#she was a neanderthal in her past life :D

[rejamart]

her name is call

[searchingwardrobes]

Ivory Runs Red: 5/6

First off, massive thanks to the @cssns​, my beta @demisexualemmaswan​, and my artist @cocohook38​. Cocohook created this amazing cover art, and she is working on something else too to go with this story. The rough sketch made my jaw drop, so I can’t wait for ya’ll to see it!

This part  is going to be a little long, but I need to address something that I got multiple comments about. Just bear with me; this is the only way I can think to clear things up. I was really surprised to see that some people were angry at David and Mary Margaret for not doing anything to find Emma and/or "allowing" her relationship with Neal. Others simply expressed things along the lines of "I hope you explain what David and Mary Margaret did about all this." The reason this reaction surprised me so much is because I thought it was clear that they HAD done something. Why would the Golds need to get rid of police files if the Swans never reported Emma missing? Why would issues of the newspaper be missing from the library if Emma's disappearance wasn't reported on? Obviously, David and Mary Margaret did something! As for Neal, they had no idea Emma was seeing him. If you'll recall, in a previous chapter, Emma told Killian she had to sneak out at night to meet Neal. So that wasn't Snowing's fault either. Also, how would any of these characters know what David and Mary Margaret did or didn't do for their daughter? This is almost a hundred years later, and Emma's memories are dulled from being a ghost for so long. The only way I could spell out clearly how Snowing handled their daughter's disappearance would be some sort of convoluted info-dump, and I didn't want to destroy the tone and mood of the story to do that. But just so everyone knows: Yes, Emma's parents were devastated. They did everything in their power to find her, never giving up hope (which is so in character for them!). They died still believing she was either still out there or that crimes against her had gone unpunished. It broke their hearts. The Golds spread rumors that Emma was some kind of slut who ran away with a guy, and the people of Storybrooke overall thought the Swans had gone crazy. So there it is, that's the back story that I just couldn't figure out how to fit in the story, lol.

I'm not mad at the questions, to be clear. I was just surprised by them. I guess I blame the show for ruining these two as parents the last couple of seasons. Maybe that's why everyone jumped on them so fast. I was also honestly worried that ya'll would be upset with me for not addressing the topic, hence this long explanation! No one was rude by any means, so don't go trying to defend me from nonexistent trolls, lol! My feelings have NOT been hurt. I simply wanted to address the questions that were asked and the misplaced anger toward Snowing. (Not anger towards me - but fictional characters!)

Okay, now that I've cleared all THAT up, let's get on with the next chapter, shall we? And I'll go ahead and warn you: this is gonna hurt . . .

Summary: When ebony flashes gold, blood runs cold. When ivory runs red, you’ll be dead. Killian Jones had heard the old rhyme his entire life. Every child did in Storybrooke, Maine. They heard it whispered in the dark at sleepovers as children; taunted as a challenge as teenagers. Killian never believed it was actually true. Until that fateful night …

Rated M for graphic depictions of violence, abusive relationships, and major character death (I mean, it’s a ghost story ya’ll, people are dead. BUT I promise, there is a happy ending. Trust me? *peeks from around a corner*)

Length: 6 chapters, complete, updated every Friday

Chapter One | Chapter Two | Chapter Three | Chapter Four

Also on Ao3

Tagging the usuals: @snowbellewells​ @whimsicallyenchantedrose​ @kmomof4​ @xhookswenchx​ @let-it-raines​ @bethacaciakay​ @tiganasummertree​ @shireness-says​ @stahlop​ @scientificapricot​ @spartanguard​ @welllpthisishappening​ @resident-of-storybrooke​ @thislassishooked​ @ilovemesomekillianjones​ @kday426​ @ekr032-blog-blog​ @lfh1226-linda​ @ultraluckycatnd​ @nikkiemms @optomisticgirl​ @profdanglaisstuff​ @ohmakemeahercules​ @carpedzem​ @branlovestowrite​ @superchocovian​ @hollyethecurious​ @vvbooklady1256​ @winterbaby89​ @delirious-latenight-laughs​ @jennjenn615​ @snidgetsafan​ @itsfabianadocarmo​ @lassluna​ @distant-rose​ @courtorderedcake​ @winterbythesea​ @thesschesthair​ @killian-whump​ @thisonesatellite​ @batana54​ @it-meant-something​ @xsajx​ @therooksshiningknight​ @gingerchangeling​​

Chapter Five: Run

“You’ve got to tell them what you saw - what you’ve learned,” Killian pleaded. 

Graham shook his head, his curly hair falling in his eyes as he stared at the slender hands he clasped in his. His eyes were bloodshot, his jaw sported far more facial hair than it normally did, and Killian didn’t have to ask if he’d slept in the past forty-eight hours. 

“They won’t believe me.”

Killian’s jaw clenched in frustration. “But if I saw Emma, and you saw her, then maybe they’ll believe -”

“That Belle saw a ghost push Mike Gaston off the troll bridge? They’ll believe that? Really?” Graham let out a sarcastic, bitter laugh. “You really are just a naive kid if that’s what you're thinking.”

“But you’re a cop!”

“I’m still only nineteen! They’ll think we’re just over-imaginative teenagers.” Graham paused, reaching up with one hand to trace the curve of Belle’s cheek as she slept in her drug-induced prison. “That will land us in rooms just down the hall with our own IV full of an antipsychotic cocktail. How will I help her then?”

“You’ve fallen in love with her.” It wasn’t a question. 

Graham sighed. “How could I not? And how could he -” He broke off, his blue eyes flashing. “I’m not sorry he’s dead. If I’d been there and saw him hurt her -”

“Shh, I wouldn’t say things like that. Not here.”

Killian’s gaze fell to the bruises around Belle’s neck, and he didn’t blame Graham at all. It terrified him to think what could have happened if Emma hadn’t shown up.

“History repeats itself,” he murmured under his breath. 

*************************************************

Killian had scarcely arrived at the bridge when headlights blinded him. He turned away, blinking, stumbling, refusing to be stopped. 

“Emma! Emma!” he shouted. He tripped and dropped his flashlight. It broke as it hit the ground, rolling to the edge of the bridge. Now all he could see was ebony before him and radiant luminescence behind him. 

His palms scraped against the asphalt as Liam hauled him to his feet. His brother gripped his upper arms so tightly it was almost painful, and he gave him a brief shake. 

“You’ve got to stop this!”

Killian fought him. “I have to see her!”

Liam had always been broader than Killian with an unfair advantage in all their childhood tussles. Even now, Killian was no match for him as he lifted him bodily with one arm and hauled him over to his car. 

“You need help!” Liam literally tossed him into the backseat. 

“I’m not going home!” Killian tried to scramble out, but Liam just shoved him back inside. 

“Good, because I’m not taking you home.”

*******************************************************

“Why won’t you be straight with us, kid?”

Killian glared at the detective with a cynical sneer. The psychiatrist on the cop’s left frowned at Killian’s attitude. The choice of words was cruel considering he was in a literal straightjacket. His vision of the two men was obscured by the long strands of dark hair before his eyes. Haircuts were apparently seen as a luxury on the psych ward. 

“I’ve answered all your questions,” Killian finally told them wearily, “you just don’t like what I had to say.”

“Because we want the truth,” the psychiatrist, Dr. Archie Hopper, said gently. He was clearly playing the part of “good cop.” Or “good doctor.” Whatever.

“I told you the truth.”

“There’s no such thing as ghosts.”

Killian snorted a laugh. “Tell that to Mike Gaston.”

The detective’s voice took on a harsh, warning tone. “Mike Gaston was the victim of murder.”

“The victim!” Killian cried, his voice snapping up. “What about the bruises he put on Belle? Or the fact that I nearly died when he tied me to that bridge!”

The detective’s lips curled up in a lewd sneer as he lit a cigarette. “If some horny teenager likes it a bit rough, that’s none of my business.”

Killian fought his bonds, his jaw clenching at the detective’s insinuation. He was as bad as Neal Gold, maybe worse. He had to be pushing fifty at least, and a pot belly strained at his button up shirt. His eyes widened as Killian raged.

“Bothers you though, I see.” He leaned forward. “Nobody blames you for wanting her, kid. Nobody blames you for being jealous. But murder? That’s a different story.”

“I told you I had nothing to do with that!”

The detective glanced at Dr. Hopper, and the soft spoken psychiatrist took over. “Killian, start at the beginning for us. What did Belle say when she called you that night?”

“I’m telling you, she didn’t call me, she didn’t come to my house. I saw her early that afternoon at the library. That was it. Then my brother got a phone call that there had been an accident, and we came to the hospital.”

“You and Belle were at the library together a lot,” Hopper said softly, “what did you two do there?”

Killian rolled his eyes. He hated the patronizing way the man asked the question. “We studied. Did our homework. We were friends.”

The detective snorted again, and Killian wanted to scream. “Drop the act, kid. You really expect us to believe that you spent all that time with her, all that time with a hot chick, and you never fucked her?”

Dr. Hopper recoiled at the foul language, and Killian thought his own jaw might actually break. 

“You’re just as much a misogynistic, narrow-minded, neanderthal as Mike Gaston.”

The detective grinned and slapped Dr. Hopper on the knee. “You were right, shrink, this kid’s smart.” He took another puff of his cigarette as he eyed Killian. “Smart enough to plan an elaborate murder with your knocked-up girlfriend?”

“That’s the most ridiculous - wait - did you say knocked up?”

“Hm,” the detective mused, leaning back in his chair and rubbing at his five o’clock shadow. “You didn’t know?”

Killian was horrified when a laugh slipped past his lips. Another bitter laugh followed, then another, until before he knew it, he was shaking with them. He was laughing hysterically while wearing a straightjacket. That thought made him laugh even more, and if he didn’t seem like a lunatic before, he sure as hell did now. 

“What the hell is so funny?” thundered the detective.

Killian’s laughter stopped abruptly and he leveled the man with an intense stare. “History repeating itself. That’s what’s so funny.”

A smile that he knew bordered on manic curled his lips. Yes, history had repeated itself, and this time, Emma Swan had won. 

************************************************************

They didn’t have enough to charge him, or Belle, or anyone else really with Gaston’s murder. It was officially declared an accident, and theoretically, Belle French and Killian Jones were free to move on. 

Killian wouldn’t say it was easy for Belle. She had severe trauma from that terrifying night, and she ended up losing the baby because of it. Nevertheless, she had Dr. Hopper’s patient help, her father’s support, and Graham’s unwavering devotion. Soon, though it would be a long time before she was truly healed, she was able to go home. 

Killian, on the other hand, didn’t really want to go home. For one, he, unlike Belle and Graham, refused to stop talking about Emma - refused to lie and say he made it up. He didn’t fault his friends for it; didn’t take it as a betrayal. He even understood their reasoning when they begged him to do the same and just play along, damn it. He simply couldn’t do it. Emma was too real, too precious. He knew her in a way they never would. He knew the feel of her skin, the taste of her lips. He wouldn’t - couldn’t - let that go.

The psych ward wasn’t so bad. The drugs numbed him to the point that he sailed on a sea of oblivion half the time. He’d stopped fighting, so there was no more straight jacket, no more bed straps. 

And she came to him. Sometimes the drugs meant he wasn’t lucid enough to really carry on a conversation. On those nights, she curled up next to him on the bed. She ran her fingers through his hair and caressed his cheeks. She pressed kisses to his lips, and sometimes he could respond in kind. 

Other times, though admittedly rare, they would talk. About everything and nothing at all. One night, they talked about their dreams for later, after high school, and suddenly Emma began to weep. 

“I know,” he soothed, brushing her forehead with a kiss, “you fear you can never have that. But maybe we can figure it out. If we somehow get the truth out. About your murder -”

Emma silenced him with a finger to his lips. “That isn’t it, Killian. It’s you. I have no more tomorrows but you can.”

His brow furrowed, and she sighed and soothed the lines away with the pad of her thumb. 

“But not if you keep holding onto me.”

His arms instinctively pulled her closer. “I’ll never let you go.”

She sighed, and sadness filled her eyes. She slipped out of his embrace and rose from the bed. Her skin grew white, her gown floated in an ethereal way at her feet. He frowned and scrambled to a sitting position. 

“I have to say goodbye,” she told him. She said it with an edge of discovery in her voice. Her lips turned up in a soft smile even as a tear slipped down her cheek. 

He shook his head and tried to reach for her, to leave the bed, but he had just enough drugs in his system to make his movements sluggish and ineffectual. 

“I won’t let you see me again.”

“No, Emma, please! I love you!”

“And I love you. That’s why I have to do this.” 

She was already fading away. Killian made a fist and slammed it into his thigh. Tears stung his eyes. 

“Be happy,” she told him, “for me.”

Then she was gone.

[dontshootmespence]

Which Fic

I was tagged by @stusbunker and @there-must-be-a-lock!

I’ll do a mix of CM and SPN fics.

Which of your fics…

…did you think would get a bigger reaction/audience than it got?

For SPN, I think Never Saw Blue Like That Before. It’s Destiel, which is obviously a big SPN ship and I was really happy with how it came out.

For Criminal Minds, basically any series I’ve done that isn’t smut. But the three I’m happiest with are Upheaval, a season 13 ender fix it fic.

After a rollercoaster year filled with departing friends, jail time, and one of the most notorious killers the team has ever faced, the last thing anyone needs is this. A truck barrels toward a group of them, leaving their future uncertain, while others stand by unable to help in any way. What crosses their minds when their lives flash before their eyes? Even if the physical injuries don’t kill them, will they be able to recover?

Coercion - Started from a one line challenge.

You are just about to start your new job at the BAU after years of working to get there, when a man you don’t know approaches you with an evil plan and knowledge of every sordid detail of your past. What will you do? Will you give into the man’s demands? Or will you be able to find another way out?

And Caged

Years after Spencer’s wife is kidnapped, there’s a break in her case and she comes home. Or does she? Is she the same woman she was before her ordeal?

…got a better reaction than you expected?

For SPN, it’s probably The Perfect Storm, an Alpha!Sam x Omega!Reader. It has about 260 notes but it was my first ABO fic and I was so fucking nervous about posting it, so I was surprised at the success it had.

For CM, honestly there are a bunch of smuts that I’m like...okay I wrote that and they BLEW UP. Most recently was Phone Calls Be Damned. I wrote it in like 20 minutes...it has nearly 900 notes. I work for ages on some pieces that BARELY get a tenth of that.

…is your funniest?

For CM, a lot of my general CM fics involving the whole team tend to be on the funnier side. I love Prank War, Secrets of the Bullpen, Pics Or It Didn’t Happen and In The Middle of the Night.

For SPN, I don’t have a ton of funny. But I think You Win or You Die is pretty funny.

…is your darkest or angstiest?

For CM, I’d have to go with Candyfloss and Novocaine, which was a collab with the lovely @cherrybombs-and-rabbitholes. 

For SPN, I’m working on what I think will be my angstiest to date, but the current one is Salvation, a Sam x Reader. I don’t really do angst super well. IMO, it’s my worst genre.

…is your absolute favorite?

For CM, it is impossible to pick. After 6 years writing CM, I have 1,000+ fics to choose from. Anything I’ve written as a request to “help” someone or make them feel better about themselves is important to me though.

For CM, it’s a Cas x Reader fic called Beauty In Stillness.

…is your least favorite?

Again, it’s hard to choose with Criminal Minds because I have so many, But I have a couple crossovers that I wrote early on in my writing that I don’t think are that good.

For SPN, it’s probably Searching for Oblivion. It was a Dean smut and one of my first forays into SPN writing. I don’t think it’s awful, but I can do better.

…was the easiest to write?

For Criminal Minds, the easiest to write was probably Passive Aggressive Partnership. I remember that one flowing pretty quickly.

For Supernatural, it has to be Cherry Red.

…was hardest to write?

For Criminal Minds, the hardest thing to write was Article of Faith.

For SPN, the hardest was Teetering on the Edge, another ABO, but I’m SO FUCKING HAPPY with how it came out.

…has your favorite lines/exchange/paragraph? (share it!)

For Criminal Minds, I am proud of a lot, but out of all the stuff I’ve written, a section from chapter 5 of Coercion stands out.

With the floodgates open, you couldn’t stop yourself from screaming. You stood up and got right up into Spencer’s face just as he’d done to you. Hotch had gotten up from his seat, thinking you were going to attempt to hurt Spencer, but you couldn’t Of course they couldn’t believe that under the circumstances. “I’ve been beaten! I’ve had my bones broken by the men that paid for me. I’ve been raped. I’ve had knives used against my skin because the rush of torturing and raping a 15-year-old girl got my clients off. I’ve been left on the side of the road with my thighs and vagina in too much pain to walk! I’ve been used as a drug mule! My only friend on the streets was murdered in front of me because I asked for a break and she had offered to take my client to let me rest. After all that, I tried to kill myself!” Your throat was raw, but you couldn’t stop. “But I had nothing. I had no money. So the only way I could think of doing it was to swallow the half a bottle of sleeping pills I had found in the trash. The next morning, I woke up in a pool of my own vomit. I took it was a sign that I was meant to do something with my life, so I pushed myself up. I walked away from the town I grew up in. Hid in sewers and pipes and abandoned buildings to make sure my pimp wouldn’t find me and kill me, or worse, rape me too, because he liked to do that if I haven’t mentioned it already, and send me back to my old life. I clawed my way up. I begged and cried and bled to get where I am now, and then that bastard came up to me and threatened to take it all away or he’d expose my past and kill you.

For SPN, there’s a section of Teetering on the Edge that JUST...I did it, man.

“Don’t you fucking dare pull that neanderthal bullshit with me, Alpha!” You yelled your throat hoarse. Sam dipped out of the area and back toward his bedroom. It didn’t matter. Whether he was here or not, you’d be seething. “You don’t get to decide my life for me! Have you ever thought that maybe I’d rather be in danger with you than safe without you?” He readied himself to respond but you pushed against his shoulder with a force that startled even you. “Did you ever stop to think that I’ve waited my entire life to find the person I was supposed to spend the rest of my life with? And that now that I found him, I’ll be damned if I let him go?”

You were on a roll. Dean wanted to speak, but you wouldn’t let him. “No! You didn’t fucking think about what I want! Because your number one priority is to make sure you don’t have anymore blood on your hands. Well, guess what. You don’t get to do that. Not with me! When you care, you get blood on your hands. That’s just the way it is. I get to make my own damn decisions!” It all just exploded out of you. You kept screaming and crying and drinking to the point where you weren’t even sure what you were saying anymore. As you kept going, your arguments shifted from his demeanor to your own health. “You claimed me,” you said, pulling your sleeve aside to shove the mark in his face. “You know what’ll happen to me without you? I could fucking die!”

Dean waited for you to stop ranting, steadily finishing his beer. Once you were all yelled out, he chose his words wisely. “There’s medication. You’ll be fine. You’re not going to change my mind,” he said flatly, trying to keep any sense of emotion out of his voice, even though you could tell he was right on the edge of acknowledging every amazing and shit feeling he was feeling in this moment. “I need you to get out of the bunker as soon as possible. For your own good.”

Without thinking, you reeled back and slapped him, open palm to cheek, relishing in the sound of the crack that reverberated throughout the bunker. “Fuck you, Alpha! Fuck. You.”

…have you reread the most?

For CM, I tend to only re-read things rarely when other people reblog. I’ll read something that they liked from a while ago and go, hell fucking yea. I wrote that.

For SPN, I re-read a lot of my Cas stuff because he’s my fucking angel :D

…would you recommend to someone reading your work for the first time?

For Criminal Minds, read all the general fic. I think it gives a taste of how I write the entire team. Though given how much I write Spencer I think I have his characterization down most.

For SPN, I think I’d go with Beauty In Stillness for fluff, Salvation for angst and Satisfaction Comes From Sharing With Others for smutttt.

…are you most proud of?

For CM, overall, I think I’d go with Upheaval.

For SPN, it’s definitely, Beauty in Stillness, Salvation and Teetering on the Edge.

Okay, this was BALLS hard, but I enjoyed :D

I’m tagging @heycasbutt @impala-dreamer @because-imma-lady-assface @covered-byroses and @illegalcerebral 

[lana-b-bana]

31. "you haven't lost me." for Lana x Reader. thanksss ❤

A/N: There’s some pretty serious stuff in this. Homophobia, getting kicked out, mentions of guns, the d slur, the f slur, the q slur, swearing, the typical 1950s lesbian stuff. Be careful, please.

The experience of being a youth, fully enamored with the world, is like no other. You are alive every day, living your best life, and you let out a big laugh simply because you can. Sorrows hit you, and they drown you sometimes. But that’s alright because drawing and swimming is part of the human life. The best feeling in the world, though, is when you are with Lana.

The word “girlfriend” doesn’t even accurately describe what you are with Lana. She is your best friend; you can laugh into the rising hours of the day with her, but there is also fiery romance. She is your lover; there is that love, but the word “lover” suggests she is some kind of mistress, but you two are practically married in everything but law. Wife is more like it, even though you two are ridiculously young. But who cares? You don’t. She loves you, and you think her eyes are made out of stars.

One of the seven wonders of the world is her lips. You are sitting behind your house, and she is sitting on top of you. Lana can’t stop giggling, and her laugh is something Sappho dreams to write about. Her eyes are a warm brown as she says, “Keep quiet, baby, I don’t want our parents to find out.”

You tug her hair, bringing her even closer to you. “Like your bob doesn’t let everyone within a ten-mile radius know that you’re gay.”

Her roar of laughter is muffled by your playful kisses. Your hands intertwine. She is so beautiful, all you want to do is shout to the streets that she’s yours. You don’t want to hide anymore. Even then, the world cannot damper your enthusiasm for life and for Lana.

“What the fuck is this?” Your father’s loud voice makes you and Lana jump away from each other. Your heart is in your throat, or is it in your ears? All you can hear is blood pumping. It lets you know you’re alive, but you feel like you are going to die. “Y/N Y/L/N, explain to me why you’re acting like faggots with this queer! You better have a good fucking explanation!” 

You risk a glance at Lana. For the first time you’ve seen her, she looks scared. Terrified. Her eyes are wide open, and you are struck with the fact that she is young, like you. “S-Sir, please—”

“Don’t talk to me!” Your dad has a vein popping out of his neck as he howls. “No dyke will talk to me!”

“Dad, please. Please don’t do this.” You’re going to cry. You’re going to start bawling in front of your dad and girlfriend. “It’s not what you think, Daddy, I swear.”

“It’s not what I think?” If you thought your father was mad before, he’s furious now. “I saw you two with your tounges down each other throats! Tell me what I thought, then!”

Things can’t get any worse. Oh, but they do. Your mother comes outside, glancing between the three of you. “What’s happening here, sweetheart?” She directs her question to you, and your breathing slows. It’ll be fine. Your mother has always loved you, even when you cut your hair short, even when you stole a necklace from the store (it was a gift to Lana), even when you went through your teenager puberty phase. She was kind and gentle and couldn’t even hurt a fly.

“Momma, I—” You glance at Lana. Are you going to just be a coward and blame it on Lana? 

You would never. She’s your world. You knew what you were getting into, but you hoped for differently. You love her, and that means sticking with her through anything. “I’m in love with Lana, Momma. Daddy caught us kissing. I hope you understand that I’m a lesbian, but that’s how it is.” You grab Lana’s hand, even though she’s gaping at you. You know she would rather take the fall, but you choose the truth. You choose her.

“We love each other, we really do. Please don’t hurt Y/N—”

“You have one minute,” your father says. He’s quiet, for some reason. This sends more shivers down your spine than his anger. “One minute.”

“Daddy?”

“Don’t call me that.” He glares at you like you’re a pest. An annoying dog that got in his way. “You’re no longer my daughter. You love this dyke? Then you can live with her.”

You turn to your mother. Your loving mother. She doesn’t meet your eyes. “Momma, please ...”

“I think you better go.” She bites her lip, but that’s about it. Your mother cannot even face you as she practically disowns you. “We raised you as a good Christian girl, and you know what the Bible says.”

You do know what the Bible says. You’ve practically memorized the paragraph she’s referring to: “and man will not lie with man, as that is an abomination”. But she’s your mother. She can’t do this. She’s supposed to love you, no matter what. 

“Momma?” You’re crying now, and you fall to your knees in front of your parents. You try to hug your mother’s knees, but she backs away like you have a disease. To her, you do. “I love you, but I love Lana, too. Please understand. I can’t ... I have nowhere to go. Please ...”

“I think we better go,” Lana whispers, tugging at your arm. You follow, but you can’t stop crying as reality hits you. Your parents love their prejudices more than their own flesh and blood. “Come on, sweetheart, let’s go.”

Your father shoves past you, and his long strides lead to one place. His rifle. “You have thirty seconds.”

What the hell? Your own dad isn’t going to shoot you, right? Still, he’s still glaring at you. “Twenty-nine. Twenty-eight. Twenty-seven.”

You run upstairs. Your hands are shaking as you think. What do you bring? There’s not enough time. One set of clothes. A photo of you all together. You wear a bracelet Lana gave you. Any spare cash you see. Your favourite book. That’s it.

“Nineteen. Eighteen.” As your dad keeps counting, you hear Lana interrupt him. She’s a genius, but you have no idea what her brilliant mind is thinking of.

“Sir, ma’am, before we leave, I’d like to say something. I don’t care if you listen but I’m going to say it anyway. Y/N and I are in love. Our love is stronger than anything else in the world, including your hate. You’re her parents, and you’re tossing her out? I hope that sometime along the line, you think about this moment and you cry. You weep because your Neanderthal minds are too dimwitted to understand that our love is pure and good. And most of all, I hope you’re ashamed. I hope you’re ashamed because you’re tossing out your daughter because she loves me. You think I’m the Devil, sent to tempt Y/N? Well, the Devil sure does look a lot like the both of you. No one has the right to judge us, not even God. He sure has a hell of a lot more sins than we do. So fuck you all to hell.”

Your Lana always has a fiery tongue.

Your parents are stunned into silence. You would laugh if you weren’t crying.

Lana spots you and her hard, nasty sneer melts as she gives you a gentle smile. “Let’s go, my love.”

“Yeah. You dykes are going to get the hell out of my house.” Your father starts to bring up his gun to his shoulder.

You look back. This is the last time you’re ever going to see them. Your father, with his gun pointed at you, a dark scowl on his face. Your mother, crying into her sleeves. Your house, already quiet and suddenly empty. You can’t muster up the energy for a speech like Lana, so all you say is: “Goodbye, Daddy. Goodbye, Momma. I love you.”

They don’t say it back.

— — — — — — — —

When you stop running, you start crying again. How could you not? Everything you’ve ever loved is left behind. Your school, your parents, your friends, your home. Nothing will ever be the same. You say something similar to Lana, and her eyes soften like chocolate on a summer day as she says, “Hey. You haven’t lost me. Not now, not ever.”

She’s right, you think. Even though this wasn’t how you wanted things to go, all you have is Lana. That sounds terrifying but exhilarating. She’ll be your home, your love, your life. And she’s left everything behind too. “I love you,” you tell her, eyes watering, but mouth in a shaky smile.

“I know. I love you too, sweetheart.” Lana smirks. That cocky asshole.

With that, you start running again, hand-in-hand. It’ll be a tough life for you two lesbians, but you’re running towards a better future. A future where your love is not forbidden. A future where you don’t have to hide. A future where you don’t have to tear down your gay flag. A future where it stands unfurled, uncaged, unclosed, standing bright and tall, just like you and Lana.

Behind your backs, the sun rises. A new day, a new life. Young love. There’s nothing like it.

[snarkysims]

I didn’t get pics of it, but Jin-Sang started this conversation with the Move-In speech bubble and a speech bubble of Shonice. I imagine he was having some reservations about moving in together, so he needed Jonathan to be a sounding board. I imagine their conversation went something like this:

(Warning: It’s long. It’s also two bros talking, so expect some mild-to-moderate cursing).

Jin-Sang: Dude, she flipped out over the TV. Can you believe that?  Maybe moving in together was a bad idea. (Jonathan looks at him pointedly, but doesn’t say anything.)  What?

Jonathan: Are you seriously going to do this right now? You’re going to pretend like you don’t know the real reason she’s upset with you?  I gotta be honest with you, bro. Ninety-nine percent of your problems with Shonice, you brought on yourself.  She’s good for you.  So, why are you hellbent on destroying your relationship with her?

Jin-Sang: You’re wrong. Shonice isn’t good for me. She’s too good for me. She’s going to make something of herself. She’ll become a lawyer and probably even Mayor someday. Eventually, she’s going to wake up and realize I’m a liability, and then she’ll kick my ass to the curb.

Jonathan: So, what, you’re trying to speed up the process? (shakes his head) Don’t be ridiculous. If Shonice thought you were a liability, do you think she would have ditched Mark for you? Mark is First Gentleman material.

Jin-Sang: I know, and I’m ex-husband material. I don’t know, man. Maybe she thought I’d be fun to hang with while we’re undergrads. But what happens next year when she starts thinking about her future seriously? Do I look like the type of dude she’ll want to take to her law office functions or political charity dinners? 

Jonathan: Okay, this pity party you’re trying to throw for yourself is not a good look. And it’s pointless. I think you’re exactly the type of dude Shonice would want. You’ve overcome the odds that were stacked against you, and you’re dedicating your life to helping kids in crisis. But that’s all beside the point. Shonice loves you, jackass, not Mark. So, cut the crap.

Jin-Sang: What the hell is your problem, man? Get off my effing dick! 

Jonathan: Not until I make sure you’re going to keep your effing dick away from Ashanti.

Jin-Sang:  Dammit, Jonathan! Why are you bringing this up again? How many times do I have to tell you I’m not sleeping with Ashanti?  I know I let things go too far with her, but I swear to Will I haven’t woohooed with her. And I don’t plan to. 

I know I won’t be earning any Boyfriend of the Year awards, but I would never hurt Shonice like that. (looks Jonathan in the eye while he speaks softly) Dude, she trusted me enough to let me be her first. And I hope to be her only...if I can manage to not eff everything up. (stares off into space, lost in his own thoughts.)

Jonathan:  (feels awkward at his friend’s uncharacteristic display of vulnerability) Okay, I believe you, man. I’m sorry for doubting you.

Jin-Sang: I was the one who pursued Shonice, remember? It wasn’t some love at first sight bullshit for me. I’m not a sappy dope like you. No offense.

Jonathan: Offense completely taken.

Jin-Sang: Sure, I thought Shonice was cute, but I wasn’t thinking about her romantically when we met. She was just a cool chick to hang with.  The more I hung out with her, the more I started feeling things for her. I told her stuff about my past, and she didn’t freak out or judge me.  She was a genuine friend, and I hadn’t had too many of those in my life. By the time I realized my feelings for her were going past friendship, she and Mark were already getting together. If she was just any chick, I would have moved on, but I couldn’t let her go.  With her, I felt like I had a home for the first time.

Jonathan: (grinning and patting Jin-Sang’s shoulder) “She felt like home?” I don’t know, Jin-Sang, that sounds pretty sappy to me.

Jin-Sang: (His vulnerability vanishes and he shrugs Jonathan off.) Man, get the eff outta here! That’s what I get for hanging around you and Eric too Will-damn much. You two sappy-ass clowns are always sitting around talking about your feelings like you’re in some effing tampon commercial.

Jonathan: Try being human for longer than a minute, Jin-Sang. You might like it.

Jin-Sang: (flips Jonathan off) Anyway, as I was saying before I was rudely interrupted, I wasn’t going to roll over and let Mark have her without a fight. I scraped up every penny I had to take her out on dates because she deserved to be treated like a queen. I don’t think that d-bag took her out at all. And what did I get for it? I had to play it cool and watch the girl I was falling in love with flirt with him while inside I was losing my shit every time I saw that Neanderthal touch her. So when she chose me, I was ecstatic. 

But I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t flattered that Ashanti came on to me. It was nice being the one pursued for a change. And Ashanti is a quality girl like Shonice, so it meant something coming from her.  Ashanti’s a sweet girl, but Shonice is home. 

Jonathan: Look, I hear you, brother, I really do.  But you need to shut it down with Ashanti before she develops real feelings for you.

Jin-Sang: You don’t think I know that? Believe me, I know how completely effed up this situation is. And I have no one to blame but myself.

But where do you get off lecturing me? I remember a time when you were juggling three chicks.

Jonathan: I’m not proud of that.  But, unlike you, I wasn’t committed to any of them at the time. Even so, it still blew up in my face, and I nearly lost Jerilene over it.

Jin-Sang: So why are you still being a dumbass?

Jonathan: What the hell are you talking about? 

Jin-Sang: I’m talking about how you were so worried about losing Jerilene before, but now you’re allowing her to live with three dudes and go on a worldwide tour without a ring on her finger. What the eff is that all about?

Jonathan: I don’t “allow” Jerilene to do anything. She’s a grown-ass woman and her own person. I’m not worried about her roommates. Tony is gay, Everson is like a brother to her, and she’s never seemed to care for Mark. 

Jin-Sang: Smart woman. Okay, but what about the tour?

Jonathan: Musical theater is Jerilene’s dream. I’d never ask her to choose between her dream and me.

Jin-Sang: I’m not saying that you should stop her from going. I’m just saying make sure you’ve got her on lock before she goes. Jerilene is smoking hot. You’re a fool if you think some other dude isn’t going to try to tap dat--.

Jonathan: (cuts him off) Jin-Sang, if you finish that sentence, I swear to Will, I’m gonna go all Mark on your ass!

Jin-Sang: Chill out, dude! Sorry, I meant no disrespect to your lady.

Jonathan: If some guy wants to go after Jerilene, a ring on her finger isn’t going to stop him.

Jin-Sang (in a quiet voice): But it might stop her. (Jonathan glares at him. Jin-Sang shrugs.) What? You can dish out advice, but you can’t take it?

Jonathan: You’re not giving advice. You’re being an asshole. And, you’re deflecting.

Jerilene knows where I stand. I told her the day we got together that she’s the one for me, and I’m not going anywhere. Nothing’s going to stop me from putting a ring on her finger when we’re both ready. 

Jin-Sang: (shaking his head) Sappy dope.

Jonathan: Offense still taken, asshole.

When Jerilene and I are ready to tie the knot, we’d love to have you and Shonice by our side, so fix things with her, and fix it fast!

Jin-Sang: (rolls his eyes) You’re not going to let up on me, are you? 

Jonathan: I wouldn’t be your best friend if I let you screw this up. 

Jin-Sang: Same. (Stands up to clear the table. As he leans down to pick up Jonathan’s plate, he sings in his friend’s ear) “Cause if you like it, then you shoulda put a ring on it.”

Jonathan: (half mutters, half laughs) Jackass.

***

Jonathan’s and Jin-Sang’s conversation bubbles inspired me to write this post. Jin-Sang was being an ass, but in his defense, Jonathan was being self-righteous as he tends to be.  I love that they are secure enough in their friendship that they pull no punches with each other. They may gave gotten heated, but they’re still bros for life. They are trying hard to replace Tony and David as my BroTP.

Just a reminder, Jin-Sang is telling the truth that he and Ashanti did not woohoo. ACR had them kiss, but that was as far as they went. He’s also telling the truth about not wanting to woohoo with her because he hasn’t rolled any wants of that nature. Believe me, if he did, you would have heard me screaming no matter where in the world you live!

I’m waiting for both Jonathan and Jin-Sang to roll the want to put a ring on their respective ladies. Jonathan has been flashing baby thought bubbles, but I haven’t seen any ring thought bubbles. I’ll give them until the time they finish Graduate School. If they haven’t rolled the want by then, I will have to “encourage” things along. 

This post was way out of my comfort zone because I don’t curse around other people (when I’m by myself is a different story). I was a Preacher’s Kid, so I feel guilty just writing the s-word. I don’t think you’ll ever see me write the f-word. That’s why I use eff and effing as a euphemism. You will absolutely never see me use the c-word or n-word. I despise those words and never say them, even if I’m alone. So, I hope this didn’t offend anyone, but I felt I had to go there to be authentic to Jin-Sang’s character. He only swears that heavily around the guys. He’s more polite with Shonice.

Finally, if you’re wondering how Jin-Sang knows the words to a song that wouldn’t be released for another five years, let’s just say Queen Bey defies time and space.

[inhumansforever]

Inhuman of The Day

August 15th - Moon Girl

Lunella Lafayette.  A young latent Inhuman who very much did not want to become an Inhuman and went to great lengths to try to prevent her going through Terrigenesis.    

Lunella is a brilliant youngster who lives with her mother and father on the lower Eat side of Manhattan.  Despite her uncanny, genius-level intellect, Lunella was denied admission to the prestigious Future Foundation school (it is likely that her application was rejected because her parents did not feel she was ready to leave home).  Instead, Lunella has been forced to endure the often-boring and unchallenging scholastic environment of PS20.  At school, Lunella has frequently been teased by her peers and has earned the nickname ‘Moon Girl’ due to her pertinacity to daydream and appear to be lost in space.  

Unknown to her parents and classmates, Lunella had built a secret laboratory in an abandoned subterranean sewer station.  In this secret lair Lunella worked on numerous experiments, creating all sorts of peculiar and ingenious inventions.  She additionally studied the history of the Kree Empire’s involvement in earthly affairs.  In so doing, Lunella discovered that she possesses the Inhuman gene that would cause her to go through Terrigenesis were she exposed to the Terrigen Cloud.  Lunella very much did not want to become an Inhuman and she became obsessed with ascertaining a means of preventing her inhuman transformation.  

To this end, Lunella built a device that allowed her to discover the location of the Kree artifact known as The Omniwave Projector.  This Omniwave Projector is a powerful weapon that can generate portals through time and space.  Lunella became convinced that the Projector could be utilized to alter her genetic composition and extract her Inhuman genes, hence eliminating her risk of being transformed via exposure to the Terrigen Cloud.

Lunella discovered the whereabouts of the Projector and found it buried near the underside of the Brooklyn Bridge.  Before she could utilize the device to attain her goals, however, one of her teachers tried to take the projector away from her believing it to be a toy.  In doing so, the teacher accidentally activated the Projector, creating a portal that connected the present with the distant past of a parallel earth (Earth 78411).  

On this parallel earth, the Projector was in the possession of the neanderthal-like tribe of raiders known as ‘The Killer Folk.’  They called the Projector the ‘Night Stone’ and used it as a weapon in their efforts to subjugate their world.   The activation of the Projector created a portal that brought these Killer Folk to Lunella’s world.  The heroic creature known as Devil Dinosaur also lived on this parallel earth and he followed the Killer Folk through the portal, seeking revenge on the villains for the apparent death of his former companion, Moon-Boy.

All matter of chaos ensued as the Lower East Side was suddenly besieged by marauding cavemen and a giant red tyrannosaurus.  The Killer Folk chased after Lunella, identifying that she possessed the Omniwave Projector.  Devil Dinosaur interceded, grabbing Lunella by the strap of her backpack and running off.   Lunella cleverly used a remote control drone she had built to lure Devil Dinosaur away from the fracas to a secluded part of the East Side.  

Although Luella was initially frightened by Devil Dinosaur, she quickly came to realize that he was not a threat and was actually a gentle-hearted creature who had protected her from the violent cavemen.

The Killer Folk continued to pursue Lunella.  Devil Dinosaur was once more successful in driving them off, yet in so doing, his tail inadvertently knocked the Omniwave Projector into the East River.  Lunella was incensed, feeling that her last, best chance to prevent her Inhuman transformation had been lost (one of the Killer Folk was knocked into the river as well and he was able to obtain the Projector).

Not long thereafter a fire broke out at Lunella’s school and Lunella was able to direct the lumbering dinosaur to help.   Working together, Lunella and Devil Dino were able to save all of the students who had been trapped by the fire.  

Devil Dinosaur’s heroics notwithstanding, The Hulk (Amadeus Cho) arrived on the scene to apprehend the monster, viewing the crimson creature as a threat to public safety.  Lunella pleaded with The Hulk, arguing that Devil Dinosaur was not a threat and that he had saved her and all of the school kids.  

The Hulk paid her no heed and, after a short battle between the two brutes, The Hulk bested Devil Dinosaur and the creature was taken away.  Lunella later discovered that Devil Dino had been incarcerated in a specialized containment cell at the American Museum of National History.  

Lunella ultimately decided that it was her responsibility to free Devil Dinosaur.  The creature had saved her life and she was indebted to returning the favor.  Donning a veritable arsenal of home-made gadgets and ingenious, non-lethal weapons, Luella snuck into the museum and successfully freed Devil Dino.  

The mayhem that followed the escape was photographed by a local journalist and ended up front page news in the next day’s newspaper.  The headline referred to Lunella as ‘Moon Girl’ (likely because she was wearing a t-shirt with a picture of the moon on it).

The local authorities may have not been able to recognize Lunella under her goggles and headgear, but Lunella’s mother was easily able to identify her and she ended up in serious trouble with her parents, grounded indefinitely.  

Some time later, Lunella’s mother was accosted by The Killer Folks who had taken over the turf of the former Yancy Street Gang and was terrorizing the neighborhood.  The Killer Folk accosted Lunella and her mother once again, this time at Lunella’s school.  It was the last straw, Lunella had had it and she used her home-made weapons to drive off their attackers.   

That evening, Lunella decided it was time to have it out once and for all with The Killer Folk.  She and Devil Dinosaur met the cavemen on a rooftop for a final battle.  The Killer Folk proved no match for the team of Moon Girl and Devil Dinosaur… the cavemen were thoroughly defeated and Lunella was able to re-obtain the Omniwave Projector.  

This victory, however, came at a great cost.  Lunella had been monitoring the movement of The Terrigen Cloud.  Her tracking allowed her to secure herself in a specialized, hermetically sealed chamber so to prevent exposure.  In her haste to finally deal with the Killer Folk, Lunella neglected to keep track on the T-cloud’s whereabouts and it just so happened that the cloud had drifting over the eastern seaborne and come to lower Manhattan.  

The cloud surrounded Lunella from all ends and there was nowhere to escape… she tried to hold he breath, but it was to no avail.  What Lunella had worked so hard to avoid had finally come to pass.

Exposed to the Terrigen, Lunella began the transformation was encased in a terrigenic cocoon.  Devil Dinosaur found the cocoon and brought it to Lunella’s secret layer, dolefully watching over it as though it were his egg.  Time passed and eventually Lunella emerged from the cocoon.  

At first, she was quite surprised that she had not changed in any physically discernible way.  Her appearance had not altered nor could she detect the presence of any supernatural powers or abilities.  Perhaps she hadn’t changed at all… but Lunella wasn’t going to rely on such luck… she saw herself as something of a time bomb: as though some terrible thing could occur at any moment.  

While some Inhumans emerge from Terrigenesis quite quickly, others can incubate within their cocoon for a very long while.  Lunella fell into the later of those two categories and she was actually within her cocoon for several days.  Not knowing where she was, Lunella’s parents were beside themselves with worry and were overjoyed and relives when she finally arrived back home.  Of course Lunella did not share in this joy, still fretting that her Inhuman powers might come into bloom at any moment, possibly endangering her family and everyone around her.  

The actually nature of Lunella’s Inhuman powers became evident a few days later when she discovered that her mind and sentience had been transported into the body of Devil Dinosaur (and his into hers).  Initially this led to some rather embarrassing events at Lunella’s school where Devil Dino (in Lunella’s body) ran amok.  

The transference of consciousness seemed to wane in and out… Over time, Lunella came to discover that the transferences were related with the lunar cycle, that they occurred with greater frequency before and after a full moon.  With practice, the Lunella and Devil D worked to attain something of a greater degree of mastery over it.  In time, it allowed the two to interact together in a greatly synchronized fashion and the tandem of her brains and his brawn made them a formidable force for super heroics.  

This led to a brief time where Lunella truly enjoyed herself.  The superhero team of Moon Girl and Devil Dinosaur was doing good all over Manhattan, preventing crimes, solving mysteries, and saving lives.  

All the while, Lunella was being hunted by runaway Kree youngster who thought he could prove himself to his father by capturing an Inhuman.  This would-be conquerer is named Mel-Var and he had targeted Lunella under the misconception that she is not especially powerful and would thus make for an easy catch.  Lunella had little difficulty fending off Mel-Var (or Kid Kree as he came to be know).  

During the encounter with Kid Kree, Lunella got to meet Ms. Marvel.  Ms. Marvel was a fellow Inhuman and an Avenger; Lunella admired her a great deal and found herself desperate to earn her respect.

Kid Kree continued to bedevil Lunella and the prepubescent Kree troublemaker gradually found himself falling for Lunella and developing a huge crush on her (much to Lunella annoyance).  Kid Kree sought Lunella out and declared his love and devotion to her.

Lunella wasn’t interested in all that romantic business, but she was willing to accept Kid Kree’s help in fending off the Kree Military force that had been dispatched to collect Mel-Var.  They succeeded and a heart-broken Kid Kree was sent back to his home planet (he’s since returned a few times to cause more trouble).  

Some time later, Lunella completed the Banner Box Assessment Puzzle in record time, leading Amadeus Cho to proclaim her the smartest person on the planet.  Although Lunella very much appreciated the sense of validation that being the smartest of the smart offered her, the revelation ultimately led to a good deal of trouble for her.  

A rogue DoomBot (an android duplicate that Dr. Doom had created in the past to do his bidding) had come across this proclamation of Lunella’s being the ‘world’s smartest’ and took umbrage with it.  The DoomBot’s antisocial intelligence was modeled off that of his former master and maintained the same compulsion to prove itself as superior as its master had possessed.  The DoomBot set off to conquer and best Lunella and therefor prove unequivocally that Doom is the most intelligent of them all.  

This led to a series of adventures where Moon Girl and Devil Dinosaur had to avoid the various traps and attacks of The DoomBot while investigating who or what it was that was so bedeviling her.  In the process, Moon Girl found herself teaming up with fellow heroes, including the Thing, The Totally Awesome Hulk, Iron Heart, Dr. Strange, and The Extraordinary X-Men.  

Throughout it all, Lunella came to learn that she could not rely on her intellect and ingenuity all on its own; that sometimes true strength, true smarts is knowing when to rely on one’s friends and allies.  In the end, Moon Girl brought all of her newfound comrades together and their combined might made easy work defeating the DoomBot and his automaton army; and the threat was ended with Lunella having learned an important lesson.

Some time thereafter, Moon Girl and Devil Dinosaur was recruited by Ms. Marvel to aide the Inhuman Royal Family who had been captured by The X-Men in the midst of the Inhuman/Mutant War.  Lunella and the others eventually discovered that the Terrigen Cloud was deteriorating and binding with earth’s atmosphere and the result would be that the entire planet would become deadly and inhospitable to all Mutant life.  

Working together with Forge, Lunella built a machine that would destroy the Terrigen Cloud before it could bind with the atmosphere.  Feeling uncertain that it was in her hands to destroy this pivotal source to Inhuman culture, Lunella handed over the controls to this device to Queen Medusa.  Medusa quickly engaged the machine, destroying the cloud and saving the Mutants while dooming the future of the Inhuman peoples.   

At the onset of the Secret Empire ordeal, Lunella and Devil Dinosaur found themselves aiding Quake and Ms. Marvel in rescuing Inhumans who had been captured by the forces of Hydra.  They ended up joining forces with Inferno and Karnak on a mission to locate a specific Inhuman whom Karnak had convinced the others was pivotal to overthrowing the Hydra regime.  This mysterious Inhuman turned out to be Karnak’s son, Leer... the whole matter had been a ploy to help Karnak find Leer.  The subterfuge notwithstanding, Lunella and the rest of this newfound team of ‘Secret Warriors’ participated in the freeing of New Attilan and the final defeat of Hydra.  During this adventure, Karnak showed a keen interest in Lunella.

Shortly thereafter, Lunella and the Secret Warriors reunited in order to save Inferno’s niece from the clutches of Mr. Sinister.  Through their adventure together, a complicated plot unfolded that entailed Karnak’s wish to seat Lunella as the leader of Attilan and Queen of The Inhumans.  Karnak believed Lunella possessed the intellect and pragmatism needed to guide Inhumanity into a new era, unencumbered by its old rituals, irrational customs and arcane practices.  

Well, Lunella had no interest in this whatsoever and rejected Karnak’s proposal that she lead all of Inhumanity; The Inhumans would have to work through their difficulties on its own and Lunella had bigger things to attend to… like finishing middle school.  The Secret Warriors ended up parting ways, but Lunella has remained close with her former teammate.

Some time later, Lunella came across a mysterious distress call originating from deep space.  She built and space craft powered by the OmniWave Projector and she and Devil Dinosaur have ventured out into the cosmos to investigate. 

Off in the cosmos, Lunella encounter a strange being who was essentially a sentient moon.  Moon Girl ultimately helped this ‘Girl Moon’ in reuniting with her estranged father, the being known as Ego The Living Planet.  

In her voyage back from the cosmos, the Omniwave engine malfunctioned and she and Devil Dinosaur were sent into a parallel universe.  On an alternate reality version of earth, the pair met their analogs, Devil Girl and Moon Dinosaur.

In an effort to get back to their dimension of origin, Lunella accidentally transported the two to the prehistoric alternate universe where Devil Dinosaur had first come from.  Once there, Devil Dinosaur was reunited with his old friend, Moon Boy.  

Lunella saw how happy and at-home Devil Dinosaur was in his home.  The Lower East Side of Manhattan is not an ideal place for a huge, red dinosaur to reside.  It was extremely hard on Lunella to part with her  best buddy, but she wanted what was best for him and she ultimately made the very difficult decision to leave Devil D behind and travel home without him.   

Upon returning home, Lunella was contacted by Johnny Storm and Ben Grimm, the remaining members of the The Fantastic Four.  They had a bunch of Reed Richards old scientific gear and thought Lunella might have some use for hit.  Among the various bric-a-brac, Lunella found an old, working H.E.R.B.I.E. Unit.   Son thereafter, Silver Surfer and Galactus arrived at The Lower east Side to deliver a stark warning to Lunella.  A dire threat was facing earth, the coming of The Omnipotis.  As the heir apparent to Reed Richards, The Surfer charged Lunella as being responsible to save the world, and the universe, from the danger this antimatter being posed.  

Teaming up with Ben and Johnny, Lunella ended up battling The Super Skrull and trying to preset him from opening the trans-dimensional gateway that would beckon the Omnipotis to Earth.  Although the threesome fought valiantly, they were missing a crucial x-factor, the type of cohesion that so often led the original Fantastic Four to beat the odds and always save the day.  

Lunella had brains, The Thing had guts, The Torch had passion, but they were missing part.   Lunella ultimately figured out what she needed to do and used the Omniwave projector to bring back Devil Dinosaur.  

Having Devil D on their side completed the equation and gave the team needed to defeat the Super Skrull, send back the Omnipotis and save the day.  

Afterwards, Lunella encouraged Ben and Johnny to reinvest themselves in locating their lost family members… a story that unfolded in the Marvel Two-in-One series and culminated in the new launch of The Fantastic Four book.  

More recently, Lunella has set herself on devising some scientific means to bettie control her powers and prevent herself from switching minds with Devil Dinosaur, always at the most inopportune of times.  Admit this project, Lunella has also been working on stopping her school from being shut-down by the unscrupulous new mayor, Wilson ‘The Kingpin’ Fisk and his spoiled adopted daughter, Princess.  To what extent Lunella will be successful in these endeavors remains to be seen and are unfolding in the current arc in the page of the Moon & Devil Dinosaur ongoing series. 

[imaginexmeintheuniverse]

Just a Pretty Face

Pairing: Peter Parker x Reader

Warnings: Steamy kissing? So much fluff you’ve been warned

Word Count: 12, 175

Summary: Reader is Peter Parker’s best friend and realizes they are hopelessly in love with him while sifting through all the milestones in the relationship.

Masterlist

A/N: This is my very first fic! I know it’s really long; I may or may not have gotten carried away. It’s mostly a series of memories leading to the point I guess? I read this over before posting it and cringed for my life but here goes nothing! I am a science student, not a writer so please forgive its crappiness. I hope you enjoy it!

I learned early on in life that being a female I’d have to face many more challenges than any male whether it was in a school setting, career or even buying a god-damned car. My mother told me that even something so mundane like buying car would be another challenge to face with sexist stereotypes. When a man walks into a dealership he is asked what kind of car he is looking for; the specs and all. When a woman walks into a dealership she is asked what color she’s looking for.

This being said, let it be known that I was always told how pretty I was growing up; relatives gushing over the ribbons in my hair, how I’d break a lot of hearts and assuming I’d want to be a princess when I grew up (aka implying that I would marry rich as if I didn’t have any career goals). My mother always made sure that I never let any of that get to me, hence teaching me that life will be tougher on me than any male specimen I will encounter. With all this being said, I decided to retract into my shell; throw myself into my studies and hide any evidence of outer beauty. I was tired of never being taken seriously, being told I was too pretty to be smart, teachers thought I was cheating off the kid next to me in class, but the worst was the way some people took the long way to get to class out of fear of running into my friends and I.

I knew being popular meant having an intimidating and glorified image but I didn’t realize until the beginning of sophomore how bad it was. I won’t get into the details right now but it was enough to smack me with a reality check like I should’ve had a V8. Always being the more quiet and reserved one in my group of friends it wasn’t too hard for me to alienate myself. After some much needed introspection, I realized that I lost my way and the people I called my friends didn’t really know me and everything was on the surface; shallow. I did a complete 180 on my previous reputation; from being part of the crowd who is envied and at the center of high school attention and gossip, to completely forgotten, as though I had never existed. This is exactly what I wanted.

I took drastic measures to disappear: I started by tackling that fear-of-missing-out attitude, hence the realization that my friends were all fake. The constant pressure of having to go to every party and cheerleading practice where we were the center of attention was exhausting. I missed dancing but sometimes I managed to catch the school dance studio empty and still took a few classes. Bless New York for being one of the dance capitals. The hardest was having to sacrifice my style. Not that I threw all my clothes out or stopped taking care of my hygiene, I simply just wore comfortable clothes to school. No more cute dresses or flashy outfits that are fully accessorized. I let my hair grow long, it didn’t really bother me since I always had it up in a ponytail or messy bun or covered with a hat. I never wore much makeup other than for special occasions like school dances or cheerleading purposes so it wasn’t that big of a hit to take. I hid any trace that I could be an “it” girl or cared what people thought of me.

It didn’t even take that long for me to stop being pestered to go to practices, parties or after-school mall hang outs. It’s been two years since then, it’s senior year now and I just have to stick it through so I can get out of the revolving shit hole that is high school. Macey was the only one who still talked to me from my old group, we’ve been friends since the second grade and she was the only one who really knew me. We didn’t hang out often, but when we did nothing between us ever changed.

So how does an adorable dork like Peter Parker come into all this? We were friends when we were kids and only lived a few blocks away from each other’s apartment buildings, not to mention my mother and his aunt were high school friends. We used to spend a lot of time together, almost best friends you could say, but come middle school and social hierarchies, we drifted I guess. With my transformation, came sort of a renewed friendship that awkwardly formed as we got to know each other all over again when I joined the mathletes and robotics club.

I supposed it could be classified as “going full nerd” although to be perfectly candid, I genuinely have always been interested in all that stuff and Peter and I have grown close through late nights of studying and binging on both food that was bound to one day give us heart attacks and whatever TV show we were currently into. We were both awkward at social interaction in general but our conversations had this natural flow and we’d always have something to talk about. When we didn’t there was a comfortable silence.

I am almost certain he had somewhat of a crush on me when our weird friendship started but I didn’t think much of it, since it would either disappear over time like my image of beauty or if it was real he would probably say something about it. Peter is without a doubt the cutest, however he clearly had a thing for Liz Allan. Who could blame him? She was popular, super pretty and kind; her mere existence could attract anyone.

Something did change with Peter during sophomore year, though I couldn’t quite put my finger on it, it’s as though he had this new found confidence. He probably never realized that I noticed he had grown into a more muscular stature, he was insanely strong and his reflexes were lighting fast. Whether it was our friendship reaching a certain level of comfort or the on-going internship he had with Tony Stark, it did him a lot of good. Of course he was still nervous and geeky Peter, that would never change.

“Have you been going to the gym or something?” I had playfully squeezed his arm.

“W-what are you talking about?!” he flinched away from me and all I could do was giggle at how red his cheeks got.

“I bet Liz will think that you’re a total hottie now,” I sang as I lean on him and fan at my face dramatically.

“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” he pouted.

For some reason he’d still let himself be pushed around by the Neanderthals  at school. I knew it was all an act because he didn’t hide his quick reflexes when we were alone or if some object came hurling at me he’d catch it. Like the other day, we were walking past an open basketball court on the way to his apartment and I saw the ball heading straight for my face but I froze. I would’ve probably had some sort of a minor concussion if it weren’t for Peter.

There have also been other episodes of strange behavior like bailing on me early when we’d go out, turning the volume low when we’d listen to music and always being so tired during our night hang outs. He was always the first one to fall asleep but I just assumed it was because he’s a sleepy child whereas I barely slept at all unless it was at Peter’s home, snuggled up to his side. The worst was seeing him with random bruises or scratches, which he refused to talk about. This worried me to no end. So I did my best and tried to treat his wounds whenever I caught them.

I guess he kind of was my best friend and I was his but was sort of an unspoken thing until I bluntly asked him around the summer of sophomore year when we were having our third Star Wars Marathon. I just straight up asked him around 3am while we shared a blanket. Despite it being extreme sweat-inducing temperatures during the day, that night was rather chilly and the small waste bin was filled with wrappers from junk food we had devoured. “Peter, am I your best friend?” I simply asked.

“Huh, wha- ehm I-” he said groggily. He had trouble keeping his eyes open,  and here I was wide awake shooting out this question out of nowhere. Side note: I have my bouts of insomnia which he is aware of, so it didn’t surprise him that I was talking to him even though he was clearly falling asleep.

“Because you’re my best friend,” he sat up and rubbed his eyes awake as I realized how ridiculous I must sound, “d-don’t worry about hurting my feelings or anything, I uh, just wanted you to know.” I mentally slapped myself for sounding like a complete imbecile. Surprise, surprise I’m not really one to subtly hint nor am I one to “beat around the bush”.

“Yeah,” he simply stated. I had to do a double take because I was too busy mentally scolding myself. This kind of stuff means a lot to me considering I didn’t really have any true friends other than Macey so having someone who I could mutually call a best friend is a huge deal for me. Peter is the only person I trust to know all of me, all of my quirks and insecurities. I stared at him wide-eyed, so he continued, “well, I thought you already knew. Now, shhhhh, sleep is good.” With that, Peter closed his eyes, tightened the arm that was wrapped around my shoulders and sank us down to a more comfortable position. He stroked my hair absent-mindedly with his other hand and I somehow managed to fall asleep to the sounds of the Death Star being blown up.

When I say he’s my best friend, I mean no sugar coating, we have a cute friendship with cuddles and deep talks about life but it’s way more than that; it’s real. We fight, not often though and besides we couldn’t go more than two days without talking to each other and I can actually talk to him about real problems. We tell each other everything from daily embarrassments to the kind of cereal we ate for breakfast. Or at least I thought we did. Peter is the only person I trust completely because he is good. It’s a short reason but even though I knew he was hiding something from me, I trusted he had a good reason and it was what he knew to be the right thing to do.

I definitely was not shy about letting him know when it was that time of the month and I was especially not to be messed with. I kept my dancing to myself for as long as I could, but it didn’t take long before he found out.

“Why didn’t you tell me you had a dance recital this weekend!” he had looked at me in total disbelief and I looked at him in wide-eyed shock, “Hell, why didn’t you tell me you still dance! I had to find out from Aunt May. Why. Didn’t. You. Tell. Me,” he was shaking me by my shoulders.

Oh mom, you did not…

“Because, it’s not a big deal,” I mimicked him by shaking his shoulders, “and you so don’t have to come.”

“Too late,” he said with a smirk, “your mom got us tickets.”

“I’m gonna-” as my hands were retreating into fist alongside my body, he trapped me in a bear hug before I could stomp away. He wouldn’t let me go until the frown slipped off my face and I gave into his hug.

Our friendship was slow at first, getting to know each other all over again. But once we did we got comfortable real quick. I don’t know exactly which moment specifically fast forwarded all that, it could’ve been his aunt inviting my family over for dinner when she found out he and I were friends again. The timing was really bad because it was during midterms (which we totally aced, just gonna throw that in) so Peter and I spent most of the night studying in his room, but he still took the time to play video games to entertain my little sister. Despite the dread of exams hanging over my head, the scene gave me nice warmth; my sister totally wrecking him at Mario Kart with his aunt and my mother catching up and conversing like they were still in high school.

It could’ve also been our first sleepover (not counting the ones we’d have as kids). It was my turn to choose what marathon and I chose Star Trek, much to Peter’s chagrin.

“You’ve never watched The Next Generation?”

“There’s no way will it be better than Star Wars.”

“You are ridiculous!” I utter as I slip the disc in.

A few hours in I could tell he was enjoying himself, so I nudge at his ribcage and look up to him with a pleased grin.

“Star Wars is still better,” he mutters.

Thus started a four-hour long debate with no resolution. It resulted with us on opposite ends of the couch, cross-armed and not talking to each other. That went on for a while with both of us stealing glances to check if the other was close to cracking. Over the span of an episode we ended up inching our way back, meeting each other halfway; literally but not figuratively. That debate is still not resolved to this day. We eventually fell asleep curled up together and my mom wasn’t going to wake us up to send him home that late.

From there, we slept over at each other’s homes whenever and got really close. When we’d hang out he’d always have an arm around my shoulder while marathoning and I’d curl into his side. We’ve fallen asleep countless times with my head nuzzled in the crook of his neck and his head resting on mine. Whenever we’d go places together in the outside world, I’d jump onto his back and we’d always hug each other for pictures and selfies.

All the physical affections were isolated incidents  the first few times but became natural overtime. So we never stopped and it rose exponentially from there. We were so close that I wasn’t even surprised when I’d come home from a dance class to find him already studying in my room with the books already laid out on my bed, but for some reason he was still jumpy sometimes when I’d be waiting for him in his room. It goes without saying that there was evidence of our friendship all over our rooms; his hoodie slung over the back of my desk chair, my baseball cap hanging off his lamp, his biology text book laying on my night table, the list goes on, at that point we gave up on trying to return each other’s stuff.

Eventually, we got so close that from an outside perception we could easily be mistaken as a couple. There have been a few incidents where we studied really late and mistakenly wore each other’s clothes to school.

“Hey Peter, isn’t that hoodie a little short for you?”

“Did your mathlete shirt somehow grow in the laundry?”

We stared at each other wide eyed in embarrassing realization for a few seconds before laughing at our predicament. It wasn’t super obvious since my new wardrobe was basically the same as his. Except sometimes he was better dressed like when he wore button down shirts or nice sweaters. I usually just wore cardigans or hoodies over a loose t-shirt with a pair of jeans or leggings and sneakers. There was this one time where Peter found all my old clothes, which I didn’t have the heart to throw out, and asked me why I never wore them. I told him what I was wearing was just more comfortable. This was before we got as close as we are now but the subject never came up again, so I never told him why I had my change of heart.

Aside from having the other person’s crap all over our rooms, there was the previously mentioned physical aspect to our relationship. Most of these occurrences were accidents at first but soon became habits. Definitely never doing any of this at school, but when going out and in our natural home habitats, we started holding hands, giving each other quick pecks and I started to walk with my arms enveloping one of his around the elbow while smushing my face on his shoulder.

Peter had been wanting to see the dance center I take lessons at so I took him to Manhattan where it was located. Being used to walking the streets downtown, I’m an expert jaywalker, but Peter being the good boy he is, liked to wait for the lights to give the go.

“Come on, there are six seconds left! We can make it if we sprint!” I tugged at his arm.

“Not happening, Y/N, we won’t ma- gah!”

He stumbled a bit as I grabbed his hand and dragged us across the street with oncoming traffic. He looked totally petrified, probably thinking I was going to get us both killed. He was probably about to lecture me about why I shouldn’t jaywalk when I cut him off, “See? one second to spare we’re fine!”

I continued to lead the way down the side walk when I suddenly realized we were holding hands. I became really self-conscious about it and stayed quiet the rest of the way but he didn’t let go until it was time for me to attend the class.

The second time we held hands, Peter took me to the Metropolitan Museum of Art for my seventeenth birthday because I had been dying to go ever since I missed the school field trip due to being sick, which also ruined my perfect attendance record (I’m still sour about that). We were waiting in line for the pyramid exhibit and he had gotten a call from his aunt but I was so excited when it was our turn that I caught his wrist to pull him out of his daze. When he took a step forward, my hand slid down to his hand. He stiffened at first, making me all self-conscious again and my cheeks flamed up. Thinking he was probably freaked out by it, I started to loosen my grip but he simply laced his fingers through mine and continued walking.

That day was also the first time he kissed me (don’t get the wrong idea here kids). If it were up to me I would’ve spent the entire day there till closing time but Peter insisted we had to go back to my apartment, Aunt May saying there was some sort of emergency. Little did I know, while Peter took me to the Met, my mother and May had been setting up a surprise party back at home. I didn’t see anyone when I first walked through the door, so I made my way to the kitchen with Peter in tow.

“Mom, I’m home! What’s the emerge-”

“Surprise!”

I’m not a huge fan of surprises, but this was pretty great. Being a total spazz however, my hand quickly left Peter’s and went up to rub my forehead where I had smacked it on the kitchen doorframe. The pain subsidized quickly after seeing my family, Macey and May with their hands thrown up in the air over the table that was covered with decorations and food, including a cake that my sister baked. The party wouldn’t have been complete without my sister shoving my face in the cake immediately after I blew out the candles. Macey had to leave early, thus, I opened the presents with a face full of cake and icing. Not before making sure everyone else had icing on their faces as well. When it was Peter’s turn, I side hugged him and just full on smashed the side of my face on his. After opening Macey’s gift and thanking her, I walked her to the door to say good bye. I was happily surprised that Macey and Peter got along well during the party. While we alone, she not-so-subtly asked if he and I were secretly dating.

“Am I imagining things, or were you guys holding hands when you walked in?”

“What?! No,” I panicked. She raised an eyebrow, to tell me she wasn’t buying any of the bullshit I was selling, “I mean yes, but, it’s not what you think.”

“You guys are totally dating! Why didn’t you tell me?!” she gushed.

“We-we are not!” I yell-whispered as I took her outside and close the door behind me.

A shit-eating grin spread across her face, “Oh really? So you wouldn’t mind if he took someone else to prom next year?”

“Well, that’s kind of far away to even start thinking about, isn’t it?” Peter and I usually skipped out on the school dances, but I hadn’t really thought about prom. My mom would have my head on a stake if I didn’t go to prom. I figured Peter and I would go together but not together.

“That’s interesting, because I heard that after breaking up with her douche bag boyfriend, Liz is looking for a really nice guy. One who could clean up nicely in a suit. Particularly an adorable geek who’s had his eye on her since freshman year,” she drawled on, “of course she won’t make the first move, but if you’re telling me that you are 100% fine with it, I’ll tell her to go for it. She would never go for someone’s boyfriend, she’s not a man-stealer.”

“He is not my boyfriend!” I denied, “And everyone has had their eye on her since freshman year; she’s Liz Allan!”

“Whatever you say,” she sang, “don’t worry, I won’t give Liz the green card just yet.”

There was no way I was going to convince her so I rolled my eyes and hugged her goodbye before returning inside to open the rest of the gifts and eating cake. My mother sister and May had cleaned their faces already but Peter still had some icing on the side of his cheek and my face was still a complete mess.

I went to the bathroom with Peter, handed him a facecloth and wiped myself clean. I started laughing when I noticed that he kept missing a spot under his jaw even though he was standing right in front of the mirror.

“What’s so funny?”

“You keep missing it,” I giggled. I took a step towards him and pointed at the spot, which was utterly hopeless, so he handed me the cloth. I hesitated for a moment when I realized how close we were standing. Normally it wouldn’t bother me; I was used to Ned teasing us, but for some reason Macey’s words kept running through my head. I had to do something to fend off the awkwardness in my head and licked the icing off his jaw. Clearly not having thought it through, I didn’t mean for it to be sexy or anything. He jumped back in shock and I couldn’t help but bursting out in laughter.

He open and closed his mouth a few time to protest against what I had done, but I guess he couldn’t find the words so he picked me up and swung me around. As he put me back down I knocked my head on the towel rack in the same area as earlier and winced. Peter being Peter, became a nervous wreck and apologized profusely whilst wrapping his arms around my head and rubbing the small bump that started to swell. I continued to laugh.

“Okay now you must be delirious.”

“It doesn’t hurt that bad Pete,” I mustered out in between giggles.

“Don’t be ridiculous, you need ice,” he planted a quick kiss on the bump and I freeze. Before he could start nervously rambling, I slipped  my arms around his waist and buried my face in his chest.

“Thanks for today,” I mumbled into his shirt.

“Any time,” he whispered as he rested his chin on my head. We stayed like that until my mom called us for clean up.

From there on out everything just kind of flowed.

Which brings us to present day along with the crippling realization that I had fallen for my best friend. Typical, I know. I don’t know when it happened or when I started noticing, but it just hit me like a ton of bricks as we speak.

After the rush of winter semester midterms and University applications, here we are lying on Peter’s bed listening to music. He’s sitting with his back against the headboard, bobbing his head and fiddling with my hair while my head rests on his lap and I drum my fingers on his stomach. I hate admit it as much as Peter hates to admit how much he secretly enjoys romcoms, but they weren’t kidding when they said all that crap about the love songs making sense. Maybe not “making sense” so much as having something, or someone, to relate it to.

Ever since my birthday this summer, what Macey said has been stuck in my brain. I have been repressing the hell out of it and it’s all crashing down on me now. I’m having one of those rewind moments where I’m tracing my steps back through the past few months to see where I let myself fall like a penguin trying to fly. I’m tracking how all the things we always do make me feel, for lack of a better word: different. My breath stuttered whenever he’d give me peck on my temple before running off, my heart raced whenever he took my hand, I’d get goose bumps when he traced random patterns on my back or arms. I found myself having an overall feeling of extra-lovely warmth that wasn’t there before when he was around and felt cold after he was gone.

“You okay?” as he asks this I realize that I stopped drumming and he must have noticed. Good thing he can’t hear how much my heart rate spiked, because I can hear it pounding in my ears.

“Y-yeah,” I manage to stammer out and remember what Macey said, “So, who are you taking to prom?” I see the tip of his ears turn pink.

“Well, ehm.. I haven’t really thought about it.”

This sends me into a nervous ramble, “Really? It’s in a couple of months and most people already have a date. Haven’t you noticed all the prom-posals around school?”

“Not real-”

“And most girls already have their dresses picked out.”

“Do you have your dress? Or a date?” his question stops me dead in my tracks.

“W-well no, and no, but um,” my rambling continues, “don’t wait too long to ask someone, or else someone else might ask them first,” I can’t stop my downwards spiral, “I heard from Macey that Liz doesn’t have a date yet, you should totally ask her.”

Oh my lord I’m a train wreck.

“Y-you think I should go with her? Would she even say yes to someone like me?”

“Yeah. Yes. You should. Macey also said Liz was kind of interested, in a way that I would interpret her saying yes to you. But um, you know, maybe you should talk to her first.”

It’s like I can see myself in the train wreck I’ve made of myself.

“I don’t think it’s going to happen,” he mutters.

“Oh come on, Peter, you’ve been ogling Liz forever,” I roll my eyes.

“You’re serious about this? What are you going to do for a date?” he takes a serious tone.

I sit up and face him, “Yes you are asking her. Stop being a chicken. As for the other matter, I don’t need a date.”

Can I please unsay all this?

“Oh, so you don’t need a date but I do?”

“Why are you pushing this? You’re infatuated with her, I don’t see the problem here!” my voice raises.

“The problem is,” he stops and clenches his fists.

I let out an impatient huff. I don’t know why I’m acting like this, it’s like I can’t stop it. Peter is always so patient with me and I’m usually just as patient but there’s so much going on my mind right now.

“Never mind,” he looks away.

“No, say it,” I press him.

“No! It doesn’t matter.”

I stand up and snap, “Stop lying to me! We’re not supposed to lie to each other. You always leave abruptly or cancel our plans last minute and then you look like you got the absolute crap beaten out of you the next day, and I doubt Tony Stark has you doing all those things as part of an internship,” I start packing my things into my backpack. I know I’m being unreasonable and suddenly changing the subject to be angry at something completely different, yet I can’t stop it at this point.

“Wait! I-I can explain,” he stands up frantically, placing a hand on my shoulder and turns me around to face him.

“What?”

“I, I” he opens and closes his mouth as if to say something, perhaps the truth. I guess I won’t know, because instead he looks down at his feet and says no louder than a whisper, “I can’t.”

The sound of his voice cracking paired up with the overwhelming amount of emotions, I can feel the sting of tears pricking at the back of my eyelids.

I will not cry. Not here, not now.

I swallow back the tears and coldly shrug his hand off my shoulder as I slip on the straps of my backpack. I only stop for a second to see Peter frozen, looking at me through his long eyelashes whilst his head still faces downwards. The sight makes my heart break. All I want to do is rush over to him, bury my face into his chest and tell him that I understand and forgive him, but I can’t. So I leave, closing his room door behind me.

It must have taken him a moment to process since we rarely fight. Ss I press the elevator button, I hear his front door burst open and Peter calls after me. He soon catches up, stopping right next to me to catch his breath. I plaster a stoic look on my face and stare at the unopened elevator doors, hoping he can’t hear how loud my heart is pounding.

“Look at me,” he pleads, turning me to face him with a hand on my shoulder like he did before. I refuse to meet those big brown eyes of his, knowing I’ll crack if I do. Instead I look down at the tips of our shoes that are only inches apart. “Please just trust me,” he pleads, bending down and angling his neck so his face is in front of mine. “Please.”

He’s got me trapped in his gaze and I follow it up as he straightens himself. I suddenly take notice of how our noses almost touch and how much I want to close the distance between us as the “ding” of the elevator drags me back to reality.

I shake my head, eyes closed to fight the tears and barely whisper, “I can’t,” my voice just as sad as his was when he said the same thing earlier.

I catch a glimpse of Peter through the closing elevator doors. He stands there frozen, staring at his hand as though I’d burned it. The tears spill out as soon as the doors close and I immediately wipe at them furiously so there’s no trace left when I get out.

This night will go down in the history of my life as one of the worst, my insomnia seems to be kicked into hyper drive because all I can do is replay the two seconds of the closing elevator doors. Laying on my own bed, I stare at the glowing stars on my ceiling but all I see are Peter’s soft features contorted in pain. Part of me wants to call him and tell him everything will be okay but the other part is hurt that he doesn’t care about our friendship enough to tell me what the hell is going on with him. That part of me also feels guilty. What kind of best friend am I that the kindest soul I’ve ever met can’t trust me.

Peter has been there for me throughout all of my now less frequent, but used to be almost daily anxiety attacks. It might seem out of character for him to be the calm and collected one, since in public he appears to be the awkward, bumbling geek. In reality, he was the one who made me feel safe; my rock. I can count on my hands the amount of times I’ve cried in the time that I’ve known Peter and he was there for all of them. Even a strong, independent young woman such as myself has moments of weakness. He was always able to calm me with his soft voice and soothing gestures.

The first time Peter witnessed one of my attacks was at school. We had barely started hanging out, mostly studying in the library and I had just started eating with him and Ned at their lunch table. It was the hands down one the most stressful days in my high school career with a test in every class and an oral presentation during last period was the awful cherry on the panic sundae.

I was re-reading my notes in front of Peter who was sitting with his chin resting on his fist with his elbow on the table. I was halfway through my speech and noticed he was staring right at me, or right through me. I turned around to see Liz Allen giggling wither her friends behind me and chuckled when I turned back to Peter who seemed to have snapped out of his daze, “Earth to Casanova Parker.”

He realized who I was referring to, “What?! No- It’s not-”

“You mean you weren’t just staring at Liz Allen?” I purposely said a little too loud for Peter’s comfort.

“Shhhhh! N-no-”

“Of course not,” I smirked, “now will you please time me, I was ten seconds over when I practiced last night and I am not letting that get in the way of my perfect term grade. Honestly, public speaking terrifies me and was my weakness. I did well in language classes up until it was time for presentations.

As our short break was coming to an end, the fear of speaking in front of people and the sleep-deprivation along with all the information crammed into my brain was getting to me.

"Are you okay?” Peter asked as he looked down at the index cards shaking in my hands.

“Y-yes, yeah I’ll be fine,” I stammered, “I think I just need to go to the bathroom to breathe a bit.”

I made my way to the bathroom with Peter following close behind, clearly not buying my crap about being fine. I tried to keep it together until I could get to the bathroom but I sprinted through the last hallway and flung the door open so fast it slammed against the wall. My hands started shaking uncontrollably and I felt the horrible familiar tightening around my chest that made my breaths short and ragged. Thanks to the warning bell, the bathroom was empty leaving the echoes of my unsteady breathing to be the only noise. I sank down behind the door, not caring if it hit me if someone came in, with my back against the wall and my head resting on my knees. Like most of my anxiety attacks, I felt like I was going to die. I tried to steady my breathing with no avail and started to panic more when the bell rang meaning I was late for class. My vision became blurred by tears welling up and my throat ran dry while tried to hold back a sob. Hearing everything but nothing at once, I felt like m head was going to explode so. After what could’ve been either a few minutes or an hour Peter burst in the bathroom, locking the door behind him.

“Where are you?!” he frantically looked through all the stalls before noticing my disheveled figure sitting in fetal position on the floor.

He tossed his bag and books on the floor and knelt down, placing a hand on my knee. I jolted up in surprise but relaxed a bit when I saw who it was. Up until then Peter usually got all nervous and didn’t know what he was doing, but this is when I first saw the side of him that would later become my rock. He only hesitated for a moment after seeing what a wreck I was; random hairs had been pulled out of my ponytail and my face was a mess of tears and redness.

“I want you to look at me,” he requested in the softest voice I’ve ever heard as he took my hands which were balled up into fists with my nails dug into my palms, “breathe with me okay?”

It’s like I was brought back down to Earth when I looked into his eyes and became conscious of what I must look like, which kicked it up to hyperventilation. “Slow down, just take a breath when I do,” he started to take deep breaths and I tried to follow. I started to relax, my grip loosened and my breaths only had a slight hiccup. When I became more stable he wrapped his arms around me and pulled me up to my feet. As soon as he began to pull away though, my knees wobbled and I collapsed into him. He didn’t even miss a step, wrapping his arms around my shoulders and rubbing slow circles on my shoulder with his thumb while I had my face pressed to his chest.

“I’m sorry,” I mumbled into his shirt.

He pulled away, holding me steady by my shoulders, “What was that?”

“I’m sorry, I ruined your shirt.”

“Don’t be-” he stopped and peered down, “does that hurt?”

“Does what hurt?” I followed his gaze down and saw my bloody palms with little crescent shaped gashes. “I didn’t even realize,” I started to choke up out of shame. His hands slid down my arms to cup around the backs of my hands.

“Let’s get you cleaned up,” he curled his grasp around my wrists, careful not to crush my hands and led me to the sinks.

I was still in a bit a daze, so I let him guide me around and stayed silent as he rinsed off my palms and wrapped them up. Apparently he keep bandages in his backpack but I didn’t question it. His hands lingered, keeping my hands nested in one of his as the other traced over my palm.

Reality suddenly came crashing down on me as I started ramble nervously, “My presentation! Oh no, Mr. Matthews is so not going to let me off the hook on this! I’m going to fail, I’ll be booted off the dean’s list, my-”

I was silenced by Peter gently grabbing my shoulders, “Everything is going to be okay, I’ll take care of it.”

Peter scooped up my books, ignoring my protests and explained the situation to the teacher. Mr. Matthews was surprisingly understanding, but didn’t want to shift the presentation schedule around. That’s when Peter stepped up and volunteered to switch presentation slots with me even though he had another day.

“No Peter, you can’t,” I insisted. I wasn’t going to let him go, he was probably just as scared of public speaking as I was.

“It’s only a day. Besides, I finished my speech last week,” he assured me. Before I could tell him to sit back down, he went up and gave his speech.

It was then that it dawned on me how special Peter was. He swallowed his own fear and anxious feelings to make sure that I didn’t completely break down. There was something about him; something heroic.

I’m totally exhausted and barely made it through the week. It already took a lot of energy to avoid Peter considering he’s in most of my classes and extracurricular activities. Of course the universe couldn’t let me get away in peace though.

“Hey, can I talk to you for a sec?” Liz surprises me as I’m closing my locker.

This is exactly what I need right now.

I definitely don’t hate Liz, in fact I do like her and we used to talk since we were in the same crowd, but like everyone save Macey, I haven’t spoken to her since sophomore year. “What’s up?”

She looks around to make sure the hallway is clear of any potential eavesdroppers, “Do you think Peter would want to take me to prom?” when I don’t answer she continues, “Sorry, it’s just that Macey said I should ask you since you’re best friends with him.”

“Uh, well-”

“Oh my gosh! I’m so sorry, he’s probably taking you right? I don’t want to step on anyone’s toes, I just think him and I would get along well, but if you two are-”

“No!” I cut her off, putting my hands up for emphasis, “No, were not dating or anything. In fact, I think he would love to go with you. He’s just too shy to ask.”

What the hell is wrong with me?!

“Oh, great!” her eyes brighten with excitement, “There he is right now, I’ll go talk to him. Thank you so much!”

I look back to see Peter walking towards us with an awkward wave. Naturally I bolt, but not before Liz pulls me into a quick and awkward hug.

“Peter! Just the man I was looking for,” she bounds over to him.

“Oh uh- Liz! H-hey!” I hear Peter fumble for his words in the distance. I don’t dare look back while I make my escape to the dance studio.

Despite the fact that I hadn’t slept at all last night, I know that I sure as hell won’t be able to sleep now. Much like Chandler suggested, I dance my troubles away. I’m a little sloppy and slow due to pure exhaustion, but it’s lifting a weight of my shoulders. I’m finishing off with stretches to make sure I won’t be sore later when I hear to studio doors open. Peter walks in with his hands shoved in his pockets and all I can do is stare at him as I continue stretching.

“Mind if I stretch with you?” I don’t say anything in response and go back to stretching. He sets his bag down next to mine and sits next to me, copying my movements. I’ll never understand how he became so flexible.  After a few minutes, Peter decides to break the uncomfortable silence, “Liz asked me if I was going to prom with anyone.”

“She asked you to prom?” I say nonchalantly.

“Well, sort of. She kind of asked me to ask her to prom,” he scratches his head, “like strongly suggested that if I asked her she would want to go with me.” When I don’t respond he continues, “So I guess I’m actually going to prom with Liz Allen. Unbelievable. We’re, um, also going on a date soon.”

My movements stutter only for a split second when he tells me this. It’s like I’ve been hit by a ton of bricks. I finally speak up, “A date, huh? Sounds like you’re pretty serious about her.”

“W-well, you know, were just going to- Hey wait! Where are you going?”

I can’t take it. I want Peter to be happy but right now I’m hurting and for me to be okay, and for us to go back to the way we were I can’t be around him right now. Once I’m over him everything will be okay.

Who am I kidding, I’m not getting over him.

He rushes over to where I’m pulling my sweater over my head and getting ready to go home. He picks up my bag before I can, but I’m so not in the mood for this right now, “Peter, give me my bag.”

“No.”

“Give. Me. My. Bag.” I try to sound threatening but my tone falters near the end.

“No,” he repeats softly, “not until I know you’re okay. Did you sleep at all last night?”

“I’m fine,” I reach out to snatch my bag but he moves his arm out of my reach. Damn his reflexes.

“You,” he knits his eyebrows in worry, “are not fine. Don’t even try to lie, I can see the dark circles under your eyes,” I notice the dark circles that rest under his own eyes and I know he didn’t sleep either, “and I need to know that we are okay.”

We stay there, eyes locked, breathing being the only audible sound. Until I can’t stand it anymore. I want my best friend back. I know he wouldn’t dare touch me in fear of me pushing him away again, so the call is mine to make. I crash into him so hard, practically leaping to wrap my arms around his neck. He stumbles back a bit in shock, then drops my bag to the ground to snake his arms around my waist, holding me up so that the tips of my toes barely touch the ground and buries his face in the crook of my neck.

“Gross, Peter. I’m all sweaty,” I mumble into his shoulder.

“Don’t care,” he tightens his arms, “are we still on for Friday night movie marathon at my place?”

“Duh,” I lightly shove him playfully, “don’t be silly.”

Today was Peter’s date with Liz. I spent the last week or so since Peter and I made up slowly distancing myself from him, meaning I haven’t been sleeping much. I blamed it on university applications. He is probably out with her right now, meanwhile I have an interview for a summer internship at Stark Industries. I’m hoping it will continue when I’m at NYU next year since the location is convenient being close to home and all. Peter probably forgot about it since he helped me with my application a while ago.

I dug through my old wardrobe and matched a navy summer dress with a light grey cardigan. I admire my the perfection of my neat bun in the mirror after tucking in a few flyaway strands. I wanted to look nice for the interview and enjoy the warm weather. I’m pretty sure the interview went really well, and I might end up working alongside Peter during the summer. I walk out of the building with a sense of confidence when I bump into someone.

“Peter?” he looks just as surprised to see me here.

“What are you-” an expression of realization crosses his face, “Oh right! How was the interview? I bet you did great! You look…” he looks me up and down.

“What? Is my hair messed up? Do I have something in my-”

“No! Not at all! You look,” I swear his cheeks get a little bit of a blush, “wow. I-I mean good- you look good.”

This in turn makes my cheeks turn bright pink. “Thanks Pete,” I giggle. I suddenly remember his date, “aren’t you supposed to be out with Liz right now?”

“Uh, yeah,” he runs a hand through his hair, “it was earlier, but um, it ended.”

“Oh, alright. You wanna hang out? Did Mr. Stark call you in for something important?”

“Yeah, but if you don’t mind waiting it shouldn’t be long,” he smiles.

With a smile and nod I walk over the cafe across the street. 

I’m just about finished my cup when Peter waves at me through the window. I can’t help but smile at how cute he looks in his two-toned short-sleeved button down and simple blue jeans. “We kind of match.”

Looks down at his outfit, then back to me, “Yeah we do,” he chuckles, slinging an arm around my shoulders.

“I know you’re my biggest fan and all, but you’ve got to stop copying me,” I laugh as I hand him the coffee I got him. He presses a hand to his chest in mock-hurt before taking the cup and thanking me. I hadn’t really noticed before how toned his arms had become since he usually wore sweaters or cardigans over his t-shirts.

“I forgot,” he slides his hand into his pocket as I loop my arm around his elbow, “Aunt May is out of town for the weekend so I have to go grocery shopping. It was last minute, so she didn’t have time to go.”

“Sure I’ll go with you. Maybe I should also supervise your cooking since it didn’t go so well last time,” I poke at him.

“It wasn’t that bad…”

All I do is look up at him with my eyebrows raised and an offended expression take over his face.

“The muffins didn’t turn out that bad,” he tries to reason.

“You’re lucky the fire department wasn’t called,” I smirk.

“Yeah, well,” he searches for a comeback while tossing his empty cup in a nearby trash bin. He can’t seem to find a reply so he settles on pinching my cheek with his free hand.

“Hey!” I can feel my cheeks turn red from the pinch. Possibly also from the contact.

“You,” he grins, “are adorable with a blush on those soft cheeks of yours.”

I stick my tongue out at him as his fingers release their grasp and he throws his head back, laughing in triumph. Are we flirting? Peter Parker flirting with me. We’re best friends; we tease each other all the time. I’m probably over thinking it because of my feelings so I push the thought to the back of my head.

We both laugh the rest of the way to the subway station and listen to music off my phone while we wait. We sit in the same position we were walking in; his hands in his pockets with my arms loosely looped around one of his, but my head rests on his shoulder and our legs are pressed together. I find myself staring off into space. I probably wouldn’t have noticed that the subway had arrived if it weren’t for Peter sliding his hand out of his pocket and taking my hand, tugging me along.

We take our seats still connected by our hands and earphones. I lean into him to resume the way we were sitting before, this time with our intertwined hands resting on his lap. He strokes up and down my thumb with his, the soothing gesture making my eyelids feel heavy. I could be imagining things, but I swear I felt him press a soft kiss to my hair line as I doze off.

I wake up to Peter gently squeezing my hand and softly repeating my name, “Y/N. We get off on the next stop.”

I lift my head off his shoulder and blush when I realize I had fallen asleep. I look up at Peter who tucks a stray strand of hair behind my ear and turn to face an elderly woman with kind eyes beaming at me.

“This is my new friend, Ruth,” Peter gestures towards her.

I introduce myself to her and shake her hand before Peter and I stand up to exit the cart, having arrived at our stop. She bids us a lovely day on our way out.

“What was that all about?” I ask Peter as we walk through the automated doors of the local grocery store.

“Made a new friend,” he smiles, “she kept me company while you were being a sleepy head.”

“Sorry,” I chuckle, “haven’t been getting much of break from my old friend, insomnia.”

“So, where do we start?���

Face him with a big grin on my face, “Grab a cart.”

Grocery shopping with Peter is a blast. I’m surprised we didn’t get caught fooling around with the grocery cart, taking turns pushing each other and running through the aisles. His aunt left him some money and a shopping list for some food items with a bit of extra cash for some goodies of our choosing.

Once we had  calmed down a bit and actually started collecting the food, I see one of the girls I dance with is shopping with her mother. She smiles and motions for me over.

“Be right back,” I let go of Peter’s hand and make my way to go greet her.

After a quick exchange of hugs and after I’ve introduced myself to her mother, she immediately leans in closer to me and gushes, “Is that your boyfriend? You didn’t tell me you had such a cute guy in your life. You guys are so adorable!”

My face must have turned into the same color as the tomatoes her mother was picking out, “Oh, oh, Peter? He’s not my- We’re just-”

“The cutest thing ever?!” She hadn’t seen Peter yet since she was new to the group but all the other girls had talked about the pair of us, constantly teasing me. “And he’s coming over right now!”

My face somehow turns a few shades darker when I spin around to see Peter approaching with the cart. While I’m too flustered to properly process what’s going on, she sticks a hand out and introduces herself. They make small talk for a few minutes, Peter shoving his hands in and out his pockets and occasionally running a hand through his hair out of sheer awkwardness. Her mother calls her over a few aisles and she bids us goodbye, walking away giggling.

“I think we have everything,” I say, hoping my face has returned to a normal color. Peter and I stroll over to check out and walk over to his apartment.

Cooking with Peter turns into a huge mess since neither of us quite know what we’re doing. “We have two of the highest GPA’s in the area, I’m sure we can figure this out,” I try to reassure him as I nearly sliced my thumb off two seconds ago. I generally don’t spend much time in the kitchen other than eating, but I know how to bake pretty well. Which is why I decided to let Peter take care of the cooking while I bake cupcakes. Okay, well more like he laid out all the ingredients for me and would not let me near the knife again.

Peter is horrible at baking considering he nearly burned down the kitchen last time, but not a bad cook. Actually, the food he prepared is surprisingly decent.

“So your date? How was it?”

“Good,” he smiles and then quickly changes the subject, “How’s my cooking?”

“Not bad Parker,” I grin.

“You’re too kind,” he chuckles sarcastically.

Finishing that off and cleaning up, it’s time to ice the cupcakes. I’m not as great of a pastry chef as my little sister, but I still like to get artsy with the decorating. We decorate in a comfortable silence, quietly passing the tubes of different colored frosting back and forth. I finish off my fourth cupcake, add it to the plate of decorated pastries and realize that mine are the only ones there. I glance over to see Peter attempt to draw something that just ends up looking like a blob.

“Having some trouble there champ?”

“No,” his brow creases in frustration as he struggles to squeeze the icing out of the bag.

I chuckle, “You don’t need to squish the bag so hard,” I lean over and place my hands over his, “relax a little.” He hesitates for a moment before letting me loosen his grip and apply a light pressure to the bag, “See? Just go with the flow.”

I let go and watch him finish cupcake. It looks like a blob surrounded by smaller blobs. “What is that supposed to be?”

He looks at me incredulously, “It’s a heart.”

“And what are those?” I motion to the little blobs.

“They’re little hearts,” he scratches his head.

I laugh as he sets his cupcake next all my other ones with a pouty face. I grab my tube and dab some icing on his nose in an attempt to wipe the frown off his face. He looks at the pink dollop cross-eyed which only makes me laugh more. He wipes it off his nose with a finger and tries to bop it on mine. I push his hand and he ends up smearing it across my cheek instead.

“This means war, Parker,” I giggle while spattering icing of every color all over his face. He does nothing to stop me and ends up looking like a rainbow threw up on his face. “Ah yes, my greatest masterpiece,” I sigh, licking the icing off my fingers. I’m about to swab some off his cheek when he grabs my wrist and pulls me into a hug, squishing his face to my cheek. “Peter!” I yelp as try to wiggle out of his clutches.

“Oh good,” he pulls back to admire his work, “I didn’t get any on your dress.”

“Meh,” I shrug indifferently, “I have other clothes here anyways.”

“But I like your dress. You look really nice today,” I blush from the compliment which sends him into a nervous ramble, “ I remember you used to dress like that before and I know you still keep all those clothes at the back of your closet, how come you never wear any of it?” I look down remembering I never told him about any of this, “I-it’s just that I was wondering because- It’s not that you don’t always look nice- I think you always look great- I just always thought you hated wearing dresses or something-” he takes a deep breath, “Sorry I’m babbling-”

“It’s fine,” I look up to him, “I’ve ever told you about it.”

I lean back with an elbow on the counter and tell him my reasons for ditching my old friends and style. “I love wearing both my old style and whatever I wear now, but no one takes you seriously; I’m just another pretty face otherwise.” Peter stays quiet and lets me go on, “That’s why I always have my hair up and wear clothes that drown out my form, I’m tired of being cat-called in the streets or being groped at parties; I definitely don’t miss any of those,” I laugh a bit at the last part, averting my eyes in an effort to combat the awkwardness I felt in confessing all this. “I know it sounds ridiculous-”

“Not at all,” he interjects. He takes a long step towards me and I tilt my head up realizing that we stand less than a foot away from each other, “Why didn’t you ever tell me any of this?”

“I didn’t think you’d understand the first time you asked about it,” I notice that he’s slowly inching closer, “I guess it just never came up again.” He’s leaning down, our noses are barely two inches apart. He probably doesn’t even notice. “We should probably finish decorating the cupcakes and clean this up, or finals will be the least of your worries,” I awkwardly laugh and busy myself with the cupcakes. He hesitantly goes back to decorating.

After his third cupcake, Peter gives up on icing. He watches me from across the counter with both his elbows on the counter top and his face in between his hands. “If you’re just going to watch me, maybe you should clean yourself up,” I giggle, the dried frosting on my face cracking. He laughs at this and disappears to the bathroom.

Peter comes back just as I’m adding the final touches on the last cupcake with a wash cloth in one hand. I barely notice that he’s wiping my cheek, being concentrated on the marble design I’m trying to achieve. I can’t help but let out a giggle as I place the last cupcake on the platter; seeing the obvious difference between my work and Peter’s. I offer him one the cupcakes I made and he devours it almost immediately, “This is the best cupcake I’ve ever had,” he gestures to me, “you need one too.”

I take a moment to observe the options and settle on the first cupcake Peter decorated. I flash him a cheeky grin as I show him my choice before eating it.

We clean up the mess we’ve made in the kitchen and settle down on the couch with the cupcakes among other sweets covering the coffee table and a movie playing on the television.

“About earlier,” Peter breaks the silence, “you said you had to hide your beauty for people to take you seriously-”

“I didn’t say I was beautiful,” I stop him, hoping I hadn’t come off as that vain.

“No, but,” he pauses for a moment, “you shouldn’t care what people think. You have one of the highest grade point averages in the school, you’re incredibly talented and you should be able to do all that and be confident regardless of your appearance.”

All I can do is stare at him. Say something. I can feel the heat rising up to my cheeks.

He scoots closer to me, “I noticed you dressed differently, but it didn’t even occur to me that you were trying to hide your beauty because-” he stops short to take a deep breath, “Because I think you are always beautiful.”

My face feels like it’s on fire. “You’re just saying that to make me feel better,” I look away and cover my cheeks with my hands.

“No,” his hand reaches up to gently tug elastic off my head, letting my hair cascade down in loose waves created by my bun. I let my hands drop from my face to my sides and study his face as he tucks a strand of loose hair behind my ear. “Your hair’s gotten so long,” he says quietly while sliding his finger all the way down the strand of hair as though to measure how long it is.

I am totally frozen. Shit.

He raises his hand back up to push more hair that has fallen over my face. His hand slowly comes to a halt, cupping the side of my face. He scans my features, “I’m not just saying that.”

I try to resist the urge but our faces are so close I let my gaze quickly diverge to his lips and then to my shaking hand. I’m so far gone, my heart is pounding in my chest and I try to steady my shaking hand by balling it up. Peter sees this and takes my hand in his free one. My hand relaxes almost instantly. My eyes barely have time to look back up at him before I feel him press his lips on mine. It’s quick, but gentle. He pulls back and releases his hold when he sees that my eyes are wide in shock.

“I-I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to-” he turns back to face the TV and curses himself out, “Shit! I’m such an idiot,” he mutters under his breath, burying his head in his hands.

There are so many feelings circulating within me, the most prominent one being joy and I can’t contain a giggle when I acknowledge the possibility that he might feel the same way I do. Hearing me, it’s his turn to widen his eyes and become totally confused. Feeling a rush of confidence, I reach out, grab the collar of his shirt and slowly pull him back up to brush my lips over his.

He starts to ask, “What are you-” I cut him off with a kiss. A long one.

It takes him a moment to react. He kisses me back and he puts his hands on either side of my face. Shakily at first, but they steady and become firm as he deepens the kiss. I pull back to catch my breath and rest my forehead against his. I peek up to see his eyes are still closed and a slow breath escapes his slightly parted lips. “Wow,” he sighs, opening his eyes. I let out a small laugh as I snake my arms around his neck.

He slides his warm hands slide down my neck where he pauses to push my hair off my shoulders, proceeding to smooth it down until he reaches the small of my back and pulls me closer. Just as he tilts his head and closes his eyes to kiss me again, I remember that he was just out with the most sought after girl in the school earlier today. “Peter,”  I draw my face away from his a few inches, “what about Liz?”

His eyes fly open, “Oh right,” I start to pull back but he holds me firmly in place, “I told her I couldn’t date her or go to prom with her.”

“Why? You’ve had your eye on her for so long,” I ask wandering why he’d ever want me over her.

“But you’re the one I care about,” his grip loosens to give the option to back away, “a lot.” His eyes lower as if he expects me to leave. Fat chance.

I jolt forward, crashing my lips into his. He moans out of surprise at first, then tightens his arms around me. I move my legs onto his lap so that we can somehow be even closer than before, our torsos fully pressed together. I let my fingers roam through his hair and deepen the kiss. Things get heated but remain mellow and soft at the same time.

Eventually, we need to take a breather. Peter leans back into the couch, pulling me with him by my waist. I lay my head on his shoulder and plant a quick kiss on the crook of his neck before nuzzling into it. He brings a hand up to stroke my hair as he softly presses his lips to my forehead.

“I really like your hair,” he whispers, “you should leave it down more often.”

“Maybe I’ll start wearing clothes that don’t always look like pajamas as well,” I murmur into his neck, “speaking of, I want to take this dress off.”

“Uh…” I look up and see Peter’s face is beet red.

“N-not like that!” I panic, “I meant pajamas! It’s pretty late,” I point that the clock indicating that it’s almost midnight. Wow. We had been kissing for a bit over an hour. I stand up with the shade of my cheeks matching his, “Mind out of the gutter Peter Parker!”

I’d be lying if I said that I am currently not the most flustered I’ve ever been in my life. I am in love with my best friend who is the person I trust the most and am closest to, but I don’t want to rush into things. I want to take it slow; at our own pace.

He laughs nervously as he stands up to take my hand and lead me to his room where he hands me one of his t-shirts and a pair of leggings I had forgotten here. I go to the bathroom to change while he changes in his bedroom. I make my way back to his room to leave my clothes with my purse on his desk. Assuming that he would take less time than I would to get changed, I end up walking in on him with his shirt stuck and his arms in the air.

“You’re supposed to unbutton the shirt genius,” I quip as I step closer to undo the rest of the buttons and pull his shirt off.

“I got lazy,” he laughs. I become immobile when my attention is brought to the fact that Peter is toned, shirtless and right in front of me; we’re talking only a few inches separating our bodies. I can’t help but let my eyes wander over every inch of his torso, memorizing how small shadows were cast in the small dips between muscles, a few thin outlines of healing scratches and scars that never would, every angle; every detail. Just like I had done with every feature of his face over time. He flushes noticing that I’m basically checking out his half naked body, but just stands still other than lightly shivering under my slightly cold fingers that brush over some fading bruises on his abdomen.

“What the hell did you do?” I say quietly, “Who did this to you?"He puts his hand over mine and guides it up to his lips to press a kiss to my palm before swiftly throwing a t-shirt on. I approach him once again, lifting his shirt and shamelessly examining the brown and purple marks that stain his pale skin, "I’m serious, what is this?”

He sighs, recalling our last big fight, “Please, today was perfect,” he cups a hand around my jaw, looping his index behind my ear, “I don’t want us to fight; especially not now,” he plants a kiss on my forehead, “I promise I will tell you really soon, just not now. Please trust me.”

I find myself lost in his warm eyes. Peter must have a good reason for not telling me, so I decide to hold him to his promise and let it go for the time being. My arms wrap around his neck and press the side of my head to his chest. His heart beats fast but steady. His hand wind around my waist to pull me into a tight hug as he buries his face into my neck.

I figure that if he was brave enough to kiss me first I should have enough courage to tell him how I feel “Peter,” I begin.

“Hmmm?” he hums in my ear.

“I-I,” just say it, “I love you.”

“What?” he pulls back and gazes at me with an unreadable expression. I have no idea whether he feels the same or if I just freaked him out.

“I-I said,” I stutter, “I’m in love with you.”

He leans closer, “What?” he whispers with a shit-eating grin plastered on.

“Not saying it again, you heard me that time,” I frown.

He lifts me off my feet and kisses me passionately. He literally swept me off of my feet. I’m breathless when he sets me down and says, “I love you too.”

It’s like a tsunami of both joy and confusion hits me in that moment. How long has he felt this way; I thought he liked Liz since freshman year. “I thought you liked Liz; you’ve been ogling her for the longest time.”

“W-well I did,” he rubs the back of his neck, “but a long time ago, haven’t since. ”

“I caught you staring at her just the other day at lunch,” I deadpan.

“I wasn’t looking at her…” My jaw drops.

“You were- Wait- Me?” I point at myself in disbelief. Had I really missed all the signs? I knew we were really affectionate, but the more I reflect, the more I realized how blurred the lines of our friendship have been.

“Yeah,” he chuckles, “but I couldn’t very well tell you that, now could I?”

“Why didn’t you?” I pout.

“I had no way of knowing how you felt about me, and I value our friendship too much to risk it. Not to mention that you are- well you. ”

“And what’s that supposed to mean?” I raise an eyebrow, “Am I that scary?”

“Sometimes,” he grins, “I’m Peter Parker; the geek and you are- well you’re considered to be way out of my league. It took a major confidence boost to kiss you back there.”

“I’m glad you did.”

“So am I.”

I push myself onto my tip toes and smile into the kiss I press to his lips.

“What does that make us now?” I ask him as we snuggle into each other on the couch back in front of the television.

“Best friends? I guess- I don’t know,” he starts to panic a bit.

“Let’s just go with the flow,” I smile, softly repeating my words from earlier and he instantly relaxes.

“Go with the flow,” he repeats in a whisper as his lips gently kiss my temple.

[the-evolving-falcon]

hostageshipping for the ship meme ask

Send in two (or more) names and I’ll fill all this out about the ship!

General:

Rate the Ship -  Awful | Ew | No pics pls | I’m not comfortable | Alright | I like it! | Got Pics? | Let’s do it! | Why is this not getting more attention?! | The OTP to rule all other OTPs

How long will they last? - Till death do them part.

How quickly did/will they fall in love? - Rather quickly once they’ve developed a mutual understanding and realized how alike they truly are, with Reiji evolving past his huge misconceptions of Shun and completely owning up to his unjustified shitty behavior towards him and Yuuto by apologizing and putting an actual effort into making amends. Shun would follow suit after a period of mistrust, change his own attitude towards Reiji, and by the moment they are having deep and meaningful discussions, they are already way past the point of no return :D

How was their first kiss? - Electrifying. Tbh, there are various options for first Hostage kisses, all of which make sense equally. I may or may not talk about these in a separate post as I only really bring them up in private convos, but… yeah, pleasurable, warm, electrifying is what they all have in common.And please, people, neither of these two are too stupid and OMGOMGOMG awkward to kiss without messing up in a disgustingly embarrassing fashion. It’s disgraceful to portray them in such fashion.

Wedding:

Who proposed? - Either Reiji proposes to Shun or they are just having this very casual conversation of “We should get married.” - “…Yeah, we should.” at the dinner table lol

Who is the best man/men? - If he’s alive in the verse in question - Yuuto;  otherwise, it’d be Tsukikage or both lol

Who is the bridesmaid(s)? - Ruri - potentially the rest of the bracelet girls.

Who did the most planning? - Reiji

Who stressed the most? - Nakajima Neither is the type to stress over such matters

How fancy was the ceremony? - Back of a pickup truck | 2 | 3 | 4 | Normal Church Wedding | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | Kate and William wish they were this big.The former is how they’d prefer to marry; the latter is how they’d probably end up marrying due to Reiji’s responsibilities as the CEO of Leo Corp. They would, however, definitely hold a very small celebration separate from the official one, with only those they genuinely care about or at least to to some extent value - aka less than 10 people - being invited, and that’d be what they’d consider their true wedding in their memories. 

Who was specifically not invited to the wedding? - Those they’d specifically not invite are people they’ve already killed at that point tbh lol

Sex:

Who is on top? - They take turns, meaning the two of them are equals in every aspect of their relationship.

Who is the one to instigate things? - At the beginning of their relationship, it is Shun, given how he is better at adapting to new circumstances than Reiji, who is kinda prudish on top of it. As their relationship progresses, however, they are pretty much equal in regard to instigating ‘quality time’

How healthy is their sex life? - Barely touch themselves let alone each other | 2 | 3 | 4 | Once a couple weeks, nothing overboard | 6 | 7 | 7.5 | 8 | 9 | They are humping each other on the couch right nowI do believe these two’d have intercourse quite regularly, though it is important to mention that they are very much capable of going without too, with no negative impact on their relationship whatsoever, as they are attracted to one another’s minds, not bodies. And no, no intercourse in public or other ‘risky’ places either; Shun and Reiji are not neanderthals, please and thank you.

How kinky are they? - Straight missionary with the lights off | 2 | 3 | 4 | Might try some butt stuff and toys | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | Don’t go into the sex dungeon without a horse’s headNo toys, but… Reiji’d definitely want to experiment a little, with Shun acquiring a taste for trying out new things as well after some time has passed. But…yeah *cough* tying one another up with Reiji’s scarf *cough* a mild kink involving Reiji making Shun say ‘please’ *cough* a very mild and harmless foot kink because ankles without it being dirty or grossly sexual *cough*

How long do they normally last? - It depends on how much time they have at hand before they need to sleep - and on whether they want to just quickly blow off steam or explore every inch of one another’s body.

Do they make sure each person gets an equal amount of orgasms? - Always.

How rough are they in bed? - Softer than a butterfly on the back of a bunny | 2 | 3 | 4 | The bed’s shaking and squeaking every time | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | Their dirty talk is so vulgar it’d make Dwayne Johnson blush. Also, the wall’s so weak it could collapse the next time they do it.Again, anything from 2-5 could happen depending on the exact circumstances and intentions.

How much cuddling/snuggling do they do? - No touching after sex | 2 | 3 | 4 | A little spooning at night, or on the couch, but not in public | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | They snuggle and kiss more often than a teen couple on their fifth date to a pillow factory.Contrary to popular belief, I see these two as an incredibly physically affectionate couple. PDA would be very tame and limited (mostly, they just hold hands), but… yeah, these two, in particular, are very affection-starved for multiple reasons- they’d of course make use of the fact that they’ve finally found someone they adore and genuinely do want to exchange such displays of affection with.

Children:

Children and either character do not work - period.

How many children will they have naturally? -

How many children will they adopt? -

Who gets stuck with the most diapers? -

Who is the stricter parent? -

Who stops the kid(s) from doing dangerous stunts after school? -

Who remembers to pack the lunch(es)? -

Who is the more loved parent? -

Who is more likely to attend the PTA meetings?

Who cried the most at graduation? -

Who is more likely to bail the child(ren) out of trouble with the law? -

Cooking:

Who does the most cooking? - Shun. While they usually eat the meals prepared for them by the kitchen staff, there are days Reiji is craving Shun’s homemade food in particular, and as Shun himself is holding Leo and Himika in contempt for having deprived Reiji of any kinds of small meaningful gestures showing that he is being valued as a person, he’ll happily oblige him whenever it doesn’t interfere with his duties - despite how he couldn’t care any less about what he himself is eating.

Who is the most picky in their food choice? - Reiji. But then again, with Shun as his competition, that really doesn’t say all that much lol

Who does the grocery shopping? - Neither. Preparing food and buying groceries is the task of the Akabas’ kitchen staff, and since the fridge is always well-stocked, Shun can just take the ingredients he needs from there. That being said, if there’s a special kind of ingredient Shun needs for his meal that is either seasonal or has to be super fresh, it can definitely occur that they just go and buy it together as some sort of mini-date.

How often do they bake desserts? - I cannot picture them doing any such thing prior to Ruri being freed - and even then, it’d take a lot of asking nicely and gentle bullying for them to join Ruri in the kitchen.

Are they more of a meat lover or a salad eater? - The kitchen staff’s meals are well-balanced and healthy, meaning far more veggies as ingredients than meat.

Who is more likely to surprise the other(s) with an anniversary dinner? - As Shun doesn’t really cook anything fancy, just… simply, homemade dishes that are remarkably tasty and Reiji’d just suggest going out, neither really qualifies for this. Ruri’d definitely cook something for the nerds, though, should she be back and aware of the exact date of the start of their relationship.

Who is more likely to suggest going out? - Reiji. He’s a bad workaholic, but even he doesn’t come close to Shun’s mustn’t-spend-a-single-second-away-from-war-duties mentality.

Who is more likely to burn the house down accidentally while cooking? - Reiji. Boy has never stepped a single foot in a kitchen before and he doesn’t really have any intention to change such habits if it isn’t for the sake of watching Shun cook.

Chores:

Who cleans the room? - The Akabas’ cleaning staff.

Who is really against chores? - Again, the Akabas have people hired for practically everything, so the question is kinda redundant.

Who cleans up after the pets? - No pets for these two.

Who is more likely to sweep everything under the rug? - Reiji by exclusion principle.as Shun just doesn’t care about trivial matters such as cleaning and maintaining appearances in front of others That being said, this’d only occur in the case of an ‘emergency’ as otherwise, Reiji’d simply notify the cleaning staff-

Who stresses the most when guests are coming over? - I wouldn’t call it ‘stressing’, but… yeaaah, Reiji’d definitely give more fucks than Shun - who gives zero lol However, what kinds of guests would these two even have other than business contacts or politicians contributing to Standard’s war effort? - because no, the Lancer children certainly don’t qualify for that.

Who found a dollar between the couch cushions while cleaning? - Probably Shun lol

Misc:

Who takes the longer showers/baths? - Reiji. When he gets Shun to join him, however, then enter and leave at the same time.

Who takes the dog out for a walk? - Again, no pets for these two.

How often do they decorate the room/house for the holidays? - Again something that’d only work with Ruri being there to nudge them into celebrating a holiday with her.

What are their goals for the relationship? -  Defeating Academia, killing Leo, and saving Ruri aside, it’d be: Bringing out the best in themselves and in one another; gaining a deeper understanding of themselves, one another, and their surroundings; nurturing something truly genuine and meaningful completely void of false appearances and pretenses.

Who is most likely to sleep till noon? - Neither. Shun’s a light sleeper and Reiji’s too responsible, though… should Shun manage to collapse in his lack of talent at resting and taking proper care of himself, it could happen to him - and gosh, would this poor boy be shocked upon seeing the time ^^’ Same applies to Reiji in the case of him getting sick.

Who plays the most pranks? - Neither of them is the type for that, though if we’re talking about romantic trolling…. in that case, Reiji is the one, though Shun most definitely knows to fight back when he actually cares to.

[scarlett-ice]

Barry, unable to use his speed (thus fast healing) for some reason, still needs to be out there as the flash. He gets stuck with Julian (and his gun) as back up but for all his whining and disapproval, Julian doesn't fail to save his life several times that day.

“Please tell me again why we can’t just wait in Star Labs?”  Julian drawls from where he and Barry are stood hiding in an alley.

“I can handle this,” Barry determinedly replies, like the idiot he is.  

“Just like you could handle it when you nearly got blasted by Detonate?  Just like you could handle it when you were seconds away from being skewered by Neanderthal?  Oh wait, I seem to remember it was me who saved your arse both of those times.  Which I wouldn’t be surprised if I do again now.”

It was just their luck that the one meta who had the ability to make other powers temporarily redundant had teamed up with a gang of other villainous metas.  Of course it had been Barry who’d been hit, leaving him without his speed his healing powers (something they’d quickly figured out when Barry’s concussion didn’t disappear within minutes).  

“We don’t know when my powers will come back,” Barry says with the same argument he’d been spouting the past few days.  “And I can’t afford to just lie back and not help when we’re spread so thin already.”

“Yes but what you seem to forget is, is you’re not indestructible right now Barry.  You’re not even that with your speed but now even less so.  And that leaves me with the job of making sure you stay out of harm’s way.”

“It’s not your responsibility,” Barry says, practically pouting.  “I can do this alone.”

Julian silently prays for patience.  Why his heart had to choose this moron of all people, he’ll never know.

“Tough Allen, you’re stuck with me until you do the sensible thing and wait safely inside until your powers come back.”

They hear a hissing noise suddenly and both of them shut up.  Of the three metas that are left of the group, Queen Cobra is the least dangerous, but that doesn’t make her an easy catch by any means.  Since she’d been working in a zoo with the reptiles at the time of the particle explosion, her DNA had fused with theirs, along with getting some upgrades.  Not only did she get their scales and forked tongue, she had an exceptional sense of smell, extremely deadly poison that could be spit up to six feet and ridiculous strength.  

“I can ssssmell you Flash.  And your friend.”

Julian sees the moment Barry decides to do something reckless and is, ironically, too slow to stop him.  Barry reveals himself from their hiding place, going to stand in front of Queen Cobra.  

“I don’t want to fight you,” Barry says, as if he could and the bluff would be decent enough if it weren’t for the fact Glutton had told all his cronies about his victory over the Flash.  Sadly Queen Cobra remembers.  

“What could you do to me now Flash?” She asks mockingly.  

“You don’t need to do this, you can learn to live with your powers,” Barry tries and Queen Cobra laughs.

“Looking like I do?  Do you understand how difficult life for me as been ssssince the explosion?  No, I tried being good and I ended up homelesssss.  Thisss iss much more rewarding.”

Julian hears the minute hitch in her breath, signaling she’s preparing to launch her poison and Julian doesn’t think before flying out of the alley and shooting out a bullet whilst shouting “Barry, look out!”

Unfortunately,  his shout also alerts Queen Cobra and at the last second, just as the bullet hits her thigh, she swivels and then the poison is suddenly coming towards him and there’s no way he can avoid it.  It’s going to hit; he never even got to tell Barry; he’s going to die; he-

Julian finds himself looking up at the sky, the wind knocked out of him and a red mass lying on his torso.  

“What a time for my powers to come back, huh?”  Barry says breathlessly and Julian’s brain tries to process what just happened, fails, and so he does the only thing that seems logical.  He draws Barry down so that he can kiss the idiot senseless.  Though initially shocked, Barry soon gets in the swing of things himself and it’s only at Queen Cobra’s cry that they part so Barry can restrain her.  He comes back instantly, offering Julian a hand up.  Julian takes it, pleased to note how plump and red Barry’s lips are.

“So, are we even?” Barry teases, grinning and Julian smirks.  

“Hardly,” he says, stepping forward so that he’s only a few centimeters away from Barry’s ear.  “But I can think of a few ways you can begin to pay me back.”

Now that his powers are back and he can take care of himself, Julian leaves a bright red Barry behind to go have some well-deserved tea.  

[i hope this was kind of what you had in mind! :D]

[gadgetsrevv]

Football fundraiser in Vega Baja * Euro Weekly News Spain

CONGRESS: Club members announced the fund taising event.Credit: Benferri CF/Facebook

SEVERAL big names from the world of Spanish football have thrown their weight behind a fund-raising scheme to repair a sports centre wrecked by the recent storms. 

Engineers have valued that damages caused to Benferri’s football pitch, sports centre and pavilion at €1 million after strong winds, torrential downpours and flooding swept the region. 

These have left the facilities unusable so that the 215 children using the sports grounds are having to travel to neighbouring municipalities in the Vega Baja to train and play. 

— Advertisement —

Now Benferri Football Club in collaboration with the local town hall has organised the First Congress of Base Football Vega Baja (Congreso de Futbol Base Vega Baja) to raise cash for repairs. 

It will take place on October 7 and will feature ex-football player Rufete, the former president of Valencia CF, Amadeo Salvo, and Spanish international Silvia Lloris. The registration fee for the congress is €10. 

The mayor, Luis Vicente Mateo, explained that the sports facilities have been razed and that the town council is already working on repairs. 

He said: “Sport gives life to people and this life that we had before in Benferri we have to recover.” 

The Benferri Football Club has put on sale a ‘solidarity t-shirt’. It features a heart with the slogan ‘Fuerza Vega Baja’ and the 27 names of the municipalities of the region. 

It can be bought via the Facebook page of Benferri CF and through email [email protected] and costs €25 with all oriceeds going to repair the facilities.  

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[milenasanchezmk]

The Carnivore Diet: Pros, Cons, and Suggestions

All-meat diets are growing in popularity. There are the cryptocurrency carnivores. There’s the daughter of the ascendant Jordan B. Peterson, Mikhaila Peterson, who’s using a carnivorous diet to stave off a severe autoimmune disease that almost killed her as a child. The most prominent carnivore these days, Dr. Shawn Baker (who appears to eat only grilled ribeyes (at home) and burger patties (on the go), recently appeared on the Joe Rogan Experience and Robb Wolf’s podcast, and is always breaking world records on the rower. Tons of other folks are eating steak and little else—and loving it. There are Facebook groups and subreddits and Twitter subcultures devoted to carnivorous dieting.

What do I think?

I’m no carnivore. I love my Big Ass Salads, my avocados, my steamed broccoli dipped in butter. My blackberries, blueberries, raspberries, and strawberries. My spoonful of coconut butter.

Yet, I get the appeal.

We’ve been eating meat for three million years. Its caloric-and-nutrient density allowed us to dispense with the large guts needed to digest fibrous plant matter and build massive, energy-hogging brains. There isn’t a traditional culture on Earth that wholly abstains or abstained from animal products. Nearly every human being who ever lived ate meat whenever he or she could get it.

Thus, meat appears to be the “baseline food” for humans. If you look past the cultural conditioning that tries to convince us that meat will give us heart disease, cancer, and diabetes, meat looks pretty damn good as a place to start.

The question is if it’s where we should stay exclusively…. 

All this said, I’m skeptical about the “steak and water” or “ground beef and water” diets of modern carnivory. Let me explain….

A Few Key Arguments For It (and My Feedback) “In its natural state, meat is relatively safe as far as toxins go.”

Animals can run and bite and claw and fly to get away from predators; most don’t need to employ any chemical warfare that causes problems when you eat the meat. Sure, allergies and intolerances can arise, like if you get bitten by the Lone Star tick and pick up a red meat allergy, but those are quite rare.

“Whereas plants’ phytonutrients are pesticides.”

This is technically true. They are toxins the plant produces to dissuade consumption by predators—toxins that the plants manufacture to maim, poison, kill, or even just make life uncomfortable for the animals who eat it.

But just as we can do with many other “harmful” inputs, we tend to treat plant phytonutrients as hormetic stressors that make us stronger, healthier, and more robust. 

There’s an upper limit, of course. And many of the phytonutrients have been primarily applied either to populations eating normal omnivorous, often downright unhealthy diets or to unhealthy subjects trying to improve a disease marker. As I’ve said before, there aren’t any real studies in healthy human carnivores, so we don’t know one way or the other whether the promising results of the extant studies apply to people eating only animal products. 

“Meat nutrients are highly bioavailable.”

The protein has all the amino acids we need to live and thrive. We readily absorb and utilize the vitamins and minerals in meat; they already come in “animal form,” requiring little to no conversion before we can start incorporating them into our physiology. Plant nutrients usually undergo a conversion process before humans can utilize them, and not every human has the same conversion capacity.

Some of those essential and/or helpful nutrients only occur in meat, like creatine, carnosine, vitamin B12. There’s literally no realistic way to obtain them without relying on supplementation, which didn’t exist until the last hundred years.

“Nutrient requirement studies don’t apply to us.”

I could see that. They haven’t tested the requirements for selenium, magnesium, and iodine on a zero-carb carnivorous diet. Do they go down? Can you therefore get by and thrive on lower intakes—the low levels found in muscle meat?

It’s a tough call.

It hasn’t been empirically tested. That’s true. It largely hasn’t undergone a series of RCTs. You can’t pull up a Cochrane meta-analysis of carnivore studies. All we really have are anecdotes.

I’m not disregarding the power or relevance of anecdotes and testimonials. Those are real. They’re not all suffering from a mass delusion. They’re not all lying. Peer-reviewed? No. Admissible in a scientific paper? Not unless you call it a case study. When you’re there in the room with someone pouring their heart out because something you wrote helped them drop 50 pounds and reclaim their lives, you don’t go “Yeah, but where are the clinical trials?” At some point, the weight of anecdotes adds up to something substantial, something suggestive. And hey, if it’s working for you, there’s no arguing that. 

But I can’t point to anything solid and totally objective in the research. Not yet anyway.

Still, any time you embark on a historically unprecedented way of eating, whether it’s pure muscle meat carnivore or vegan, you should be a little more careful about what you think you know. 

What Do We Know About Carnivory in Human History?

We don’t know if there have been any purely carnivorous human cultures. We haven’t found any yet, and you can’t prove a negative, so I won’t say “there were none.”

In all the best candidates so far, though, plants sneak into the diets. The Inuit actually utilized a wide variety of plant foods including berries, sea vegetables, lichens, and rhizomes. They made tea from pine needles, which are high in vitamin C and polyphenols.  The Sami of Finland, who primarily live off a low-carb, high-fat diet of meat, fish, and reindeer milk (I have to imagine that’s coming to Whole Foods soon), also gather wild plant foods, particularly berries and mushrooms (Finland’s forests produce 500 million kg of berries and over 2 billion kg of mushrooms each year!), sometimes even feeding their reindeer hallucinogenic mushrooms to produce psychoactive urine. The Maasai are known for their meat, milk, and blood diets, but they often traded for plant foods like bananas, yams, and taro, too, and they cooked their meat with anti-parasitic spices, drank bitter (read: tannin- and polyphenol-rich) herb tea on a regular basis, and used dozens of plants as medicines (PDF). Even Neanderthals used plants as food and medicine, we’re learning.

Even if we discover evidence of carnivory in human prehistory or in some extant group, the emerging science of genetic ancestral differences suggests that the habitual diets of our recent ancestors shapes the optimal diet for us today. If your close ancestors weren’t carnivores, you might not have the adaptations necessary to thrive on an all-meat diet.

Still, what about Vilhjamjur Stefansson, an Arctic explorer who came away very impressed with the native Inuit diet and underwent a series of studies on the effect of an all-meat diet in man? He and a colleague did great for over a year eating only meat. But Stefansson wasn’t eating ground beef. In his own words, he ate “steaks, chops, brains fried in bacon fat, boiled short-ribs, chicken, fish, liver, and bacon.” Definitely carnivorous. Definitely not just steak or ground beef, as many modern carnivores seem to be eating. All those “weird” cuts gave him critical micronutrients otherwise difficult to get from just steak.

How To Best Optimize a Carnivore Diet

While you won’t find me switching to the carnivore side, if I were to do a carnivorous diet, here’s how I’d try to optimize it (and why).

Take Magnesium

A recent paper showed that the majority of people following a “paleolithic ketogenic diet” with at least 70% of calories from animal foods and including offal had adequate serum magnesium levels. That’s a great start. But earlier studies show that serum magnesium may not be the definitive marker. A person can have normal serum levels but inadequate tissue levels—and in the tissues is where magnesium does its work. A person can have normal serum levels but still be deficient.

Eat Eggs

They’re not quite animals, but they contain everything you need to build a bird from scratch. That’s cool·—bite-sized whole animal.

Eat Liver

Liver is unabashedly animal flesh. It absolutely qualifies for a carnivorous diet. Loaded with choline, folate, vitamin A, copper, and iron, it’s nature’s most bioavailable multivitamin. There’s no reason not to include it. If you get your hands on some fish livers, you’ll get a ton of vitamin D along for the ride.

There’s frozen liver tabs, where people dice up liver into little chunks and swallow them hole.

There’s liver smoothies, where absolute savages blend raw liver and drink it. I know a guy who fixed severe iron deficiency by drinking raw chicken liver orange juice smoothies, with the vitamin C in OJ meant to enhance iron absorption.

Liver is also great sauteed with fish sauce, citrus, salt, pepper, and sesame oil. Do it quick, don’t overcook.

Eat Seafood

A few oysters, some mussels, a filet of wild sockeye salmon… You’ll get vitamin D, long-chained omega-3s (which tend to rare even in pastured ruminant flesh), selenium, iodine, copper, iron, manganese. Not every meal has to—or should— be a New York strip. 

Implement Intermittent Fasts On a Regular Basis

A constant influx of muscle meat will keep mTOR topped up. That’s great for muscle growth and general robustness. Just do something to stop the protein intake for a day or two to  lest you start fueling unwanted growths.

Treat Spices and Other Low/Non-Calorie Plant Foods As Medicinal Supplements That Don’t “Count”

All the nearly-carnivorous cultures we have good data on did similar things, using bitter herbs and barks and the like as supplements to their diets. You’re not getting calories from this stuff. You’re getting non-caloric compounds that provide health benefits.

Get the Best Quality Meat You Can Find and Afford

While I’m sure a diet of snare-caught hare, Alaskan elk, and choice sockeye salmon you wrest from the grasp of picky grizzlies poised over rivers preparing for a long winter would be ideal, it’s not necessary. Yes, grass-fed and -finished/pastured as well as organic are ideal, but do the best you can with what you have.

Use Bone Broth

It’s a great way to get collagen and the glycine it contains to balance out all the methionine you’re eating, especially if you’re doing the muscle meat-only thing and avoiding most gelatinous cuts of meat.  Make it yourself or buy. Collagen supplementation, of course, works here, too.

The carnivore diet isn’t for me. I like plants way too much. But I’m cautiously optimistic that it could work for more people than you’d expect, provided they heed as many of my suggestions as possible.

That’s it for me, folks. What about you? Have any experience eating a carnivorous diet? Interested in trying? Let me know what you know!

[fishermariawo]

The Carnivore Diet: Pros, Cons, and Suggestions

All-meat diets are growing in popularity. There are the cryptocurrency carnivores. There’s the daughter of the ascendant Jordan B. Peterson, Mikhaila Peterson, who’s using a carnivorous diet to stave off a severe autoimmune disease that almost killed her as a child. The most prominent carnivore these days, Dr. Shawn Baker (who appears to eat only grilled ribeyes (at home) and burger patties (on the go), recently appeared on the Joe Rogan Experience and Robb Wolf’s podcast, and is always breaking world records on the rower. Tons of other folks are eating steak and little else—and loving it. There are Facebook groups and subreddits and Twitter subcultures devoted to carnivorous dieting.

What do I think?

I’m no carnivore. I love my Big Ass Salads, my avocados, my steamed broccoli dipped in butter. My blackberries, blueberries, raspberries, and strawberries. My spoonful of coconut butter.

Yet, I get the appeal.

We’ve been eating meat for three million years. Its caloric-and-nutrient density allowed us to dispense with the large guts needed to digest fibrous plant matter and build massive, energy-hogging brains. There isn’t a traditional culture on Earth that wholly abstains or abstained from animal products. Nearly every human being who ever lived ate meat whenever he or she could get it.

Thus, meat appears to be the “baseline food” for humans. If you look past the cultural conditioning that tries to convince us that meat will give us heart disease, cancer, and diabetes, meat looks pretty damn good as a place to start.

The question is if it’s where we should stay exclusively…. 

All this said, I’m skeptical about the “steak and water” or “ground beef and water” diets of modern carnivory. Let me explain….

A Few Key Arguments For It (and My Feedback) “In its natural state, meat is relatively safe as far as toxins go.”

Animals can run and bite and claw and fly to get away from predators; most don’t need to employ any chemical warfare that causes problems when you eat the meat. Sure, allergies and intolerances can arise, like if you get bitten by the Lone Star tick and pick up a red meat allergy, but those are quite rare.

“Whereas plants’ phytonutrients are pesticides.”

This is technically true. They are toxins the plant produces to dissuade consumption by predators—toxins that the plants manufacture to maim, poison, kill, or even just make life uncomfortable for the animals who eat it.

But just as we can do with many other “harmful” inputs, we tend to treat plant phytonutrients as hormetic stressors that make us stronger, healthier, and more robust. 

There’s an upper limit, of course. And many of the phytonutrients have been primarily applied either to populations eating normal omnivorous, often downright unhealthy diets or to unhealthy subjects trying to improve a disease marker. As I’ve said before, there aren’t any real studies in healthy human carnivores, so we don’t know one way or the other whether the promising results of the extant studies apply to people eating only animal products. 

“Meat nutrients are highly bioavailable.”

The protein has all the amino acids we need to live and thrive. We readily absorb and utilize the vitamins and minerals in meat; they already come in “animal form,” requiring little to no conversion before we can start incorporating them into our physiology. Plant nutrients usually undergo a conversion process before humans can utilize them, and not every human has the same conversion capacity.

Some of those essential and/or helpful nutrients only occur in meat, like creatine, carnosine, vitamin B12. There’s literally no realistic way to obtain them without relying on supplementation, which didn’t exist until the last hundred years.

“Nutrient requirement studies don’t apply to us.”

I could see that. They haven’t tested the requirements for selenium, magnesium, and iodine on a zero-carb carnivorous diet. Do they go down? Can you therefore get by and thrive on lower intakes—the low levels found in muscle meat?

It’s a tough call.

It hasn’t been empirically tested. That’s true. It largely hasn’t undergone a series of RCTs. You can’t pull up a Cochrane meta-analysis of carnivore studies. All we really have are anecdotes.

I’m not disregarding the power or relevance of anecdotes and testimonials. Those are real. They’re not all suffering from a mass delusion. They’re not all lying. Peer-reviewed? No. Admissible in a scientific paper? Not unless you call it a case study. When you’re there in the room with someone pouring their heart out because something you wrote helped them drop 50 pounds and reclaim their lives, you don’t go “Yeah, but where are the clinical trials?” At some point, the weight of anecdotes adds up to something substantial, something suggestive. And hey, if it’s working for you, there’s no arguing that. 

But I can’t point to anything solid and totally objective in the research. Not yet anyway.

Still, any time you embark on a historically unprecedented way of eating, whether it’s pure muscle meat carnivore or vegan, you should be a little more careful about what you think you know. 

What Do We Know About Carnivory in Human History?

We don’t know if there have been any purely carnivorous human cultures. We haven’t found any yet, and you can’t prove a negative, so I won’t say “there were none.”

In all the best candidates so far, though, plants sneak into the diets. The Inuit actually utilized a wide variety of plant foods including berries, sea vegetables, lichens, and rhizomes. They made tea from pine needles, which are high in vitamin C and polyphenols.  The Sami of Finland, who primarily live off a low-carb, high-fat diet of meat, fish, and reindeer milk (I have to imagine that’s coming to Whole Foods soon), also gather wild plant foods, particularly berries and mushrooms (Finland’s forests produce 500 million kg of berries and over 2 billion kg of mushrooms each year!), sometimes even feeding their reindeer hallucinogenic mushrooms to produce psychoactive urine. The Maasai are known for their meat, milk, and blood diets, but they often traded for plant foods like bananas, yams, and taro, too, and they cooked their meat with anti-parasitic spices, drank bitter (read: tannin- and polyphenol-rich) herb tea on a regular basis, and used dozens of plants as medicines (PDF). Even Neanderthals used plants as food and medicine, we’re learning.

Even if we discover evidence of carnivory in human prehistory or in some extant group, the emerging science of genetic ancestral differences suggests that the habitual diets of our recent ancestors shapes the optimal diet for us today. If your close ancestors weren’t carnivores, you might not have the adaptations necessary to thrive on an all-meat diet.

Still, what about Vilhjamjur Stefansson, an Arctic explorer who came away very impressed with the native Inuit diet and underwent a series of studies on the effect of an all-meat diet in man? He and a colleague did great for over a year eating only meat. But Stefansson wasn’t eating ground beef. In his own words, he ate “steaks, chops, brains fried in bacon fat, boiled short-ribs, chicken, fish, liver, and bacon.” Definitely carnivorous. Definitely not just steak or ground beef, as many modern carnivores seem to be eating. All those “weird” cuts gave him critical micronutrients otherwise difficult to get from just steak.

How To Best Optimize a Carnivore Diet

While you won’t find me switching to the carnivore side, if I were to do a carnivorous diet, here’s how I’d try to optimize it (and why).

Take Magnesium

A recent paper showed that the majority of people following a “paleolithic ketogenic diet” with at least 70% of calories from animal foods and including offal had adequate serum magnesium levels. That’s a great start. But earlier studies show that serum magnesium may not be the definitive marker. A person can have normal serum levels but inadequate tissue levels—and in the tissues is where magnesium does its work. A person can have normal serum levels but still be deficient.

Eat Eggs

They’re not quite animals, but they contain everything you need to build a bird from scratch. That’s cool·—bite-sized whole animal.

Eat Liver

Liver is unabashedly animal flesh. It absolutely qualifies for a carnivorous diet. Loaded with choline, folate, vitamin A, copper, and iron, it’s nature’s most bioavailable multivitamin. There’s no reason not to include it. If you get your hands on some fish livers, you’ll get a ton of vitamin D along for the ride.

There’s frozen liver tabs, where people dice up liver into little chunks and swallow them hole.

There’s liver smoothies, where absolute savages blend raw liver and drink it. I know a guy who fixed severe iron deficiency by drinking raw chicken liver orange juice smoothies, with the vitamin C in OJ meant to enhance iron absorption.

Liver is also great sauteed with fish sauce, citrus, salt, pepper, and sesame oil. Do it quick, don’t overcook.

Eat Seafood

A few oysters, some mussels, a filet of wild sockeye salmon… You’ll get vitamin D, long-chained omega-3s (which tend to rare even in pastured ruminant flesh), selenium, iodine, copper, iron, manganese. Not every meal has to—or should— be a New York strip. 

Implement Intermittent Fasts On a Regular Basis

A constant influx of muscle meat will keep mTOR topped up. That’s great for muscle growth and general robustness. Just do something to stop the protein intake for a day or two to  lest you start fueling unwanted growths.

Treat Spices and Other Low/Non-Calorie Plant Foods As Medicinal Supplements That Don’t “Count”

All the nearly-carnivorous cultures we have good data on did similar things, using bitter herbs and barks and the like as supplements to their diets. You’re not getting calories from this stuff. You’re getting non-caloric compounds that provide health benefits.

Get the Best Quality Meat You Can Find and Afford

While I’m sure a diet of snare-caught hare, Alaskan elk, and choice sockeye salmon you wrest from the grasp of picky grizzlies poised over rivers preparing for a long winter would be ideal, it’s not necessary. Yes, grass-fed and -finished/pastured as well as organic are ideal, but do the best you can with what you have.

Use Bone Broth

It’s a great way to get collagen and the glycine it contains to balance out all the methionine you’re eating, especially if you’re doing the muscle meat-only thing and avoiding most gelatinous cuts of meat.  Make it yourself or buy. Collagen supplementation, of course, works here, too.

The carnivore diet isn’t for me. I like plants way too much. But I’m cautiously optimistic that it could work for more people than you’d expect, provided they heed as many of my suggestions as possible.

That’s it for me, folks. What about you? Have any experience eating a carnivorous diet? Interested in trying? Let me know what you know!

[republicstandard]

A Brief Exploration Of “Fat Shaming” in Hellenic Culture

Touched by Graecophiles

I remember studying ancient Greece, though only vaguely, in several different lessons in school. We learnt about the Greek pantheon, the architecture, the philosophers, the technological innovations and my personal favourite: the warrior state, Sparta. It turns out though that in recent years we have discovered through observation of the evidence that there was so much more to them than that that we should all learn from: they were tolerant, multicultural, pacifist, kind and yes, even sexually promiscuous!

Or were they? And, if so who cares?

I’ll tell you who cares: the left. In recent years, I have noticed an increasing amount of commentary on Hellenic culture coming out of neo-Marxist magazines which has been echoed in conversations I have had with liberals during this time. Ancient Athens has become a liberal shrine, a shining star of sleaziness within the vast sky of chivalry, nobility, piety and valour that is recorded history.

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I call this new phenomenon Graecophilia.

It is, prima facie, no surprise to see why a cultural Marxist would become a Graecophile. Athens was indeed the first society to tolerate, encourage and even institutionalize homosexuality in the form of paedophilia, translated as “boy love”. Feel free to correct me if I’m wrong and the Guardian have since miraculously discovered bisexual Neanderthals; perhaps it is only a matter of time. The nudity, the aristocratic alcoholism and the hedonistic decadence of the upper classes within ancient Athens contemporary to its brightest intellectual and political achievements (which we will touch on later) have ignited within lefties a feeling of the best of both worlds: seemingly being conservative and liberal at the same time; simultaneously, in their eyes, having permission to admire tradition, as long as the tradition is sufficiently degenerative and continue being perverts with a clear conscience.

Please take a (brief) look at this article, entitled “Classics for the people – why we should all learn from the ancient Greeks” from the Guardian.

The Guardian, amongst others “news outlets” I will refrain from directly scrutinising due to wanting to write an article, not a book, have begun to print these articles lauding the Ancient Greek culture as something we “can all learn from” on a regular basis. Here’s just one more example, entitled “Laid bare: the sex life of the ancient Greeks in all its physical glory” to cringe over before we get stuck in.

Eros, the god of love and the great loosener of limbs, was many things: irresistible, tender, beautiful, excruciating, maddening, merciless and bittersweet. There was no position, no touch, no predilection too outre to pay homage to him. From the affectionate embrace to group sex, love came in many forms. "The Greeks were anything but prudes," said Nicholaos Stampolidis, director of the Museum of Cycladic Art, "Theirs was a society of great tolerance and lack of guilt."

The above articles from The Guardian point at ancient Greek culture, and state that “classics should be enjoyed by everyone, not just the privileged few.” If you can stomach the above saccharine swill, you’ll gather exactly what I’m talking about when I outline the problem of Graecophilia. According to the genius that wrote the above article, we could learn a lot from ancient Greece, as they

“often freely intermarried with other peoples; they had no sense of ethnic inequality that was biologically determined, since the concepts of distinct world “races” had not been invented.”

I think the term she was looking for was “invaded”, not “intermarried with”, but who am I, a scholar of Greek history, to disagree with Edith Hall and her ability to pervert the evidence to get her liberal readers drooling. Forget that Greece, as every other principality in history has, violently fought off foreigners in defence of their own culture, probably most famously in the Battle of Thermopylae, an effort which was ultimately unsuccessful, as the population of Helots (foreign subjugated peasants) became unsustainable and resulted in an uprising that collapsed Sparta. Here’s another gem from the article:

“They tolerated and even welcomed imported foreign gods.”

Oh yes, of course, the “cultural tolerance” card. Forget that the very reason that the philosopher Socrates was sentenced to death was his “belief in strange Gods” as can be read about in The Trial of Socrates, either by Xenophon or Plato. I thought Edith Hall, the woman who wrote this article, was all for reading the classics? So much for that… In summary, the above articles, as just a small sample of many, highlight this slippery slope of reverence for a principality that was in actuality drowned eventually by its multiculturalism, gluttony, lust diversity and indiscipline. We risk heading down a route of reverence for a culture which in of itself, whilst responsible for a number of intellectual achievements, is not in any sense a model society or indeed one we can learn very much from unless we, as I will later outline, adopt all of its philosophy as one cohesive entity rather than cherry pick. As a traditionalist, it does pain me to say it, but not all the ways of the past should again be proudly trodden as they once were, and certainly not without careful study and understanding. The issue goes far beyond the microscopic one of “fat shaming” that we will discuss now, but ties into the much broader issue of an emergence of Graecophilic liberals who, with little education in the classics, wish to praise Athens as a kind of ancient liberal microcosm.

What about physical fitness? Surely if Edith Hall’s studious reporting is anything to go by the Greeks were just as tolerant of the overweight as they were of everything else, and good on them for doing so! Unfortunately for Edith, this is not the case and the Greeks were big into what we know now to be fat shaming.

“Fat shaming”: A brief fatground and preamble

For those who are fortunate enough not to have come across the term before, I’ll provide a brief extract from the Wikipedia page on “Anti-fat bias”:

Anti-fat bias refers to the prejudicial assumption of personality characteristics based on an assessment of a person as being overweight or obese. It is also known as "fat shaming." Anti-fat bias leads people to associate individuals who are overweight or obese with negative personality traits such as "lazy", "gluttonous", "stupid", "smelly", "slow", or "unmotivated." This bias is not restricted to clinically obese individuals, but also encompasses those whose body shape is in some way found unacceptable according to society's modern standards (although still within the normal or overweight BMI range).

Well, what do you know? A fat person who is lazy? Certainly not. All the fat people I know are high-intensity career people who even fit in time after work to go for a jog, raise a family and cook a healthy, moderately sized evening meal. And I can’t for one moment imagine why people would draw a line between being fat and gluttony. How ridiculous.

Although I knew it existed, I generally laughed off the idea of “fat shaming” as another moronic, hipster idea of such triviality that it would soon fade into the liberal backwater and be forgotten about by the socialist goldfish brains. However, I’ve seen the idea or, if you can call it a movement, gradually start to expand in size like the women that read The Independent. Being exposed to the this video and the support it received for glorifying obesity was the final straw for me to write an article on this issue.

What shocked and angered me even more than a) The idea that this could be considered poetry, and b) Just how little the leviathan on the video realised it was hurting itself and setting a dangerous example for others was the lack of any criticism within the comments section. There seemed to be no one coming to aid of common sense or possessing an iota of independent thought; the comment section was quite simply a chromosomal wasteland. I knew I had to write a rebuttal and the issue of Graecophilia was also playing on my mind, so I thought I would amalgamate the two ideas into an unlikely combined article.

Already fairly well versed in the topics involved, I still knew I had to read hard if I was going to sufficiently rebut the movements: liberal Graecophilia and anti-“fat shaming” that had been imposed upon me. I picked up a copy of The Republic by Plato, some texts referencing Lycurgus, Nicomachean Ethics by Aristotle and read some supporting texts I could find on the web, including looking in depth at some important studies on obesity, all of which I hope are sufficiently referenced throughout for further reading.

I’ll first start off my rebuttal by clearly stating my argumentative position which is that firstly, it is intellectually degenerative to in of itself condemn “fat shaming” but doubly that to do so while attesting that ancient Greece is something we should all learn from, and that “all, not just the privileged few” should study the Greek classics is hypocritical and is a cherry picking of the elements within Greek society deemed worthy of learning from; and that of course to simultaneously venerate and criticise a culture is impossible. I will then finally briefly outline why cherry picking cultural elements does not work and inevitably leads to the adopter’s destruction. In the next passage I’m going to be providing mainly a body of information and evidence in support of the afore-stated logical discourse, in that Greek society was indeed “fat shaming”. Greek culture being anti-“fat shaming”: Fat chance!

Homeric Era and Prehistoric Greece:

Let us begin with the element of a society that one it holds most dear: its religion. Greek religion belonged/belongs to the proto Indo-European family of religious traditions, along with Celtic, Slavic, Iberian and Norse paganism as well as Hinduism. Gods were, of course, as is the way in more mainstream religions such as Christianity, idealized role models who served as the perfect standard towards which the common folk should strive. We know of the Greek’s religion through many pieces of evidence both archaeological and textual, but probably the best collection of texts in reference to the Gods are Theogeny, Works and Days by Hesiod and The Illiad and the Odyssey by Homer.

Within the Greek mythos was the demi-God Heracles, son of Zeus and Alcmene, a mortal woman. Heracles was venerated in every Greek city state, predominantly Sparta, where he was considered to be the ancestor of all Spartan people and the reason for their exceptional strength. I need not go into detail about the kind of figure that Heracles was, as you the reader will already surely be aware, but what I will state is that Heracles was not only respected for his strength, but worshipped, especially also in Thebes where he was said to have been in born.

Heracles was not the only “ripped” figure in Greek mythology who was a role model for the people. Pretty much all of the Gods and indeed Goddesses possessed awesome physiques. Now think for a moment, if they were tolerant of obesity and slothfulness, wouldn’t there be at least one fat God or a story about the twelve main courses of Hercules rather than a tale of tremendous physical endurance?

Spartan Society and Lycurgus’s Constitution

Particularly in Sparta, men and women alike would engage in intense exercise regardless of their prospective or future occupational pursuit. It was required of all young men to undergo physical training in a school know as the Agoge from age 7, in aid of cultivating physical virtues in connection with their believed sportive ancestry. The Spartans also advocated a eugenics program to weed out the lazy and unfit in honour of their “tolerance” towards the morbidly obese. Still feel like learning from the classics, Edith?

To confirm my point with evidence, in the 1st and 2nd centuries AD, the Greek Plutarch visited Sparta to collect since extinct sources which were significantly older to reconstruct a history of the philosophies of the Spartan people from 900BC to the erosion of Sparta in the 3rd century BC. He was particularly interested in the Spartan legal institution, brought in by the philosopher Lycurgus. In his biographical account Sayings of the Spartans, Plutarch writes:

Lycurgus, the lawgiver, wishing to recall the citizens from the mode of living then existent, and to lead them to a more sober and temperate order of life, and to render them good and honorable men (for they were living a soft life). He reared two puppies of the same litter; and one he accustomed to dainty food, and allowed it to stay in the house; the other he took afield and trained in hunting. Later he brought them into the public assembly and put down some bones and dainty food and let loose a hare. Each of the dogs made for that to which it was accustomed, and, when the one of them had overpowered the hare, he said, "You see, fellow-citizens, that these dogs belong to the same stock, but by virtue of the discipline to which they have been subjected they have turned out utterly different from each other, and you also see that training is more effective than nature for good." But some say that he did not bring in dogs which were of the same stock, but that one was of the breed of house dogs and the other of hunting dogs; then he trained the one of inferior stock for hunting, and the one of better stock he accustomed to dainty food. And afterwards, as each made for that to which it had become accustomed, he made it clear how much instruction contributes for better or worse, saying, "So also in our case, fellow-citizens, noble birth, so admired of the multitude, and our being descended from Heracles does not bestow any advantage, unless we do the sort of things for which he was manifestly the most glorious and most noble of all mankind, and unless we practice and learn what is good our whole life long."

So, in essence, what it was that Lycurgus was trying to teach was that environmental conditioning was important for developing character, and that it is possible for a person of poor initial potential to perform better than a person with a high potential given the adequate discipline and training. In this example, the unconditioned, IE the fat, are the dogs who were given “dainty food” which turned out poorly for them when they had to catch a hare, i.e., do something useful!

The Socratic School: Socrates, Xenophon, Aristotle and Plato.

Though of course of great interest to those who love to learn about European history and culture, liberals will likely turn their nose up at the examples I have used so far, so let us turn to something a little more “high brow” and look at the Socratic school of philosophy. I think this was more of what Edith of the Guardian had in mind.

An interesting fact about Socrates, and one that people often forget to mention, is that Socrates was a military veteran. Not only well versed and trained in matters of the mind, he was a well conditioned soldier in his youth and fought in at least three conflicts during the Peloponnesian War between the state of Athens and its allies and the forces of Sparta. Socrates made several points throughout the Socratic dialogues alluding to the importance of physical fitness not merely to personal excellence but to the flourishing of the state. I think the best one can be found in Plato’s The Republic, a book discussing the ideal state wherein an entire chapter is dedicated to the importance of physical exercise in a citizen’s excellence and in turn a flourishing society. I will leave you the reader to go and enjoy The Republic in your own time and briefly touch upon a passage from Memorabilia by Xenophon, a student of Socrates. In the book, Socrates is having a discussion with another one of his students, Epigenes, and notices that Epigenes is in poor condition for a young man, starting the following dialogue:

Socrates: You look as if you need exercise, Epigenes. Epigenes: Well, I’m not an athlete, Socrates. Socrates: …Why, many, thanks to their bad condition, lose their life in the perils of war or save it disgracefully: many, just for this same cause, are taken prisoners, and then either pass the rest of their days, perhaps, in slavery of the hardest kind, or, after meeting with cruel sufferings and paying, sometimes, more than they have, live on, destitute and in misery. Many, again, by their bodily weakness earn infamy, being thought cowards. Or do you despise these, the rewards of bad condition, and think that you can easily endure such things? And yet I suppose that what has to be borne by anyone who takes care to keep his body in good condition is far lighter and far pleasanter than these things. Or is it that you think bad condition healthier and generally more serviceable than good, or do you despise the effects of good condition? And yet the results of physical fitness are the direct opposite of those that follow from unfitness. The fit are healthy and strong; and many, as a consequence, save themselves decorously on the battle-field and escape all the dangers of war; many help friends and do good to their country and for this cause earn gratitude; get great glory and gain very high honors, and for this cause live henceforth a pleasanter and better life, and leave to their children better means of winning a livelihood. I tell you, because military training is not publicly recognized by the state, you must not make that an excuse for being a whit less careful in attending to it yourself. For you may rest assured that there is no kind of struggle, apart from war, and no undertaking in which you will be worse off by keeping your body in better fettle. For in everything that men do the body is useful; and in all uses of the body it is of great importance to be in as high a state of physical efficiency as possible. Why, even in the process of thinking, in which the use of the body seems to be reduced to a minimum, it is matter of common knowledge that grave mistakes may often be traced to bad health. And because the body is in a bad condition, loss of memory, depression, discontent, insanity often assail the mind so violently as to drive whatever knowledge it contains clean out of it. But a sound and healthy body is a strong protection to a man, and at least there is no danger then of such a calamity happening to him through physical weakness: on the contrary, it is likely that his sound condition will serve to produce effects the opposite of those that arise from bad condition. And surely a man of sense would submit to anything to obtain the effects that are the opposite of those mentioned in my list. Besides, it is a disgrace to grow old through sheer carelessness before seeing what manner of man you may become by developing your bodily strength and beauty to their highest limit. But you cannot see that, if you are careless; for it will not come of its own accord.

As the preceding passage outlines, physical proficiency was, and I believe for good reason, considered to be an essential element of self-mastery irrespective of the occupation, age or intention of the person exercising and it was a disservice to oneself to be in poor physical condition. Those who were in good physical fitness were of more use to their family, friends and the state and Socrates believed (correctly, as I will explain later) that a person with suboptimal physical fitness is also inevitably intellectually suboptimal. If Socrates was truly as intelligent as we can from inference assume, and if we indeed “should all learn the classics” then it would be unwise not to follow the advice of such a decorated thinker and military veteran in ignoring, ipso facto, the leftist objection to fat shaming. Either that, or we ought to disavow the Greek culture altogether.

Ok, enough with references to these high-brow authors, how do we know that they were representative of the people? The general masses may have thought differently, and been more progressive. I hardly think so. To briefly summarise the form of occupation for 90% of citizens -excluding women, children and the small minority of pensioners- was in manual labour. It can be surmised that the majority of individuals worked in agriculture with others working in mining, sculpture, craftwork and the military and were by extension in good physical condition if not underweight. Only a small minority of jobs, often up at the top of the class ladder, were sedentary enough for it to even be possible for a person to become fat even if they wanted to. It must be then stated that fat statesmen and judges were certainly not a rarity though, but were often the subject of mocking in Greek comedies and also the world’s oldest joke book, Philogelos. I suppose you could call that “institutionalized fat shaming”.

Some basic science behind the benefits of physical fitness and “fat shaming.”

Now we have briefly explored fat shaming in ancient Greece, and we have learnt that the heffalumps over at the Guardian are the ones who think there is so much to learn from ancient Greece, let us examine Socrates’ main argument alongside some contemporary studies and see if they still stand (fat pun not intended):

Socrates: … it is matter of common knowledge that grave mistakes may often be traced to bad health. And because the body is in a bad condition, loss of memory, depression, discontent, insanity often assail the mind so violently as to drive whatever knowledge it contains clean out of it.

Socrates drew a parallel between bad health and a poor intellect, as does this study from the University of Gothenburg, Sweden. from the University of Gothenburg, Sweden:

The study, which including 1.2 million young adults, noted an increase in cognitive performance amongst the group who regularly exercised. I am not a biologist, but I would hypothesis that this link is likely as a result of a) An increase in the release of stimulating endorphins and b) the ability to supply the brain with adequate oxygen due to better cardiovascular fitness.

This study from Allergan Inc., a gastric band company, also supports Socrates’ argument. According to the study, obesity has a hindering effect on the US economy to the tune of $73.1 billion per year as a result of absenteeism.

Just doing a small amount of cursory research and applying common sense, it is easy to determine that Socrates was right: fat people are a drain on the economy, they have lower IQs than people who exercise, have a higher rate of unemployment in the West (likely as a result of the only obese people in the third world being drug barons) and are five times more likely to be diagnosed with depression. No doubt though that as usual the left will make up unscientific excuses for all of these phenomena.

They can come up with all the excuses they want, but this article by Milo Yiannopolous, entitled “Science proves it: Fat-shaming works” has elegantly checkmated them all:

"[I]f people feel shit about themselves, they’re more likely to change. A landmark study by obesity experts in 2014 found that a “desire to improve self-worth” was one of the most important motivating factors encouraging people to lose weight. What does this tell us? That encouraging fatties to “love themselves,” as the fat acceptance movement does, is the worst possible message you could send people if you want them to lose weight."

We would all, of course, wish for a society that is as intelligent as possible, so why, then, as the Socrates noticed, should we advocated a society in which the body is malnourished (or “overnourished”) and in turn so is the brain? If we conservatives choose to be derogatory to the very cause of that which left and right alike consider to be negative, IE suboptimal intelligence, then where is the issue? Where is the logic in sparing an individual’s feelings in exchange for a long term illness? Not telling an overweight person they are doing themselves harm is akin to encouraging someone not telling a to go and get their cough checked out. Though at least for most smokers this will only be precaution, whilst a fat person risks death at every moment.

I hope you can take away a number of facts, both historical and scientific, with you to wage war against cellulite and liberal Graecohiles. As we have determined, the Greeks did not think very highly of obesity at all, and were not as tolerant as Edith Hall from The Guardian would like to deceive you into believing.

We’ve also taught another valuable lesson: you cannot have your cake and eat it too. Either “the classics are for all to learn from” or they’re not. Edith may as well write an article now entitled “Greeks were bigots; shove your classics up your arse”.

It is, of course, intellectually bankrupt to unquestionably revere, accept or even revile aspects of a culture without an understanding of the cultural and political diaspora that surrounds them and ergo the reasons why such a custom was an aspect of the culture in the first place. This is the dangerous route down which students of Greek history are beginning to descend down as fragments of culture ought not to be analysed without a perception of the whole. The irony is that it is more often than not conservatives who are accused of employing a “pick and choose” mentality on issues such as immigration or Islam, in which we are “picking on specific cases”. Well, perhaps it is time that the left pick and choose. Pick and choose what your stance is on Hellenic culture! As conservatives, we would do will to carefully study and value the wisdom bestowed upon us by those who came before, as long as we are firstly always aware of the context within which behaviours existed and hence gain a full understanding of a philosophy within is context, and even more importantly remain vigilant in adopting elements of culture independently of the context within which they originated as this inevitably results in incompatibility and cultural dissonance, like trying to run a new piece of software on a computer that’s hardware was never built to run it in the first place.

We need to dispel the idea that we can cherry pick different aspects of different cultures and ideas and blend them together to create an amazing modern concoction of philosophy. Well, by that logic, the city of London should be a paradise by now, should it not? Oh dear.

This issue goes far deeper than the regressive left’s new-found and hypocritical reverence of Hellenic culture, despite their rejection of aspects of this culture such as fat shaming where it feels convenient, this issue permeates all current affairs -and in actuality perennial thought- as the concept of cherry picking aspects of a culture is dangerously wide-spread.

A subject for another day, I will briefly touch upon the example of democracy in order to prove my point: there are very few people in the modern West that would disagree with the idea of democracy, but in actuality it is plain to see that democracy often does not adequately function as an electoral system because it was taken out of its original context: ancient Athenian morality and theology. Within this context, democracy functioned more efficiently due to the moral education of Athenian citizens and the theological values imbued within the system that made it possible for the masses to make objectively “correct” electoral decisions. Democracy has been taken out of this context and implemented into an intellectually and morally bankrupt society and hence cannot function efficiently.

If you can’t accept Greek philosophy on fat shaming, you quite simply can’t praise Athens for its tolerance of homosexuality, its politics or its theology, because they belong within the same self-contained cultural Jenga tower. You take one piece out, the entire thing falls apart into nonsense. It is nigh on impossible to symbiose ideas and mannerisms from different geopolitical, religious and cultural contexts without producing psychological dissonance, as globalisation has taught us and in turn informed us of the pattern generally. Ergo, to take, for example, some Athenian ideas irrespective of their context would be doomed to failure; in many ways, ironically, this was one of the things which caused Athens’ eventual downfall!

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I will leave with this final remark, I believed fittingly, from the Greek poet Hesiod’s Works and Days:

“I mean you well, Perses, you great idiot, and I will tell you. Look, badness is easy to have; you can take it by handfuls without effort. The road that way is smooth and starts here beside you. But between us and virtue the immortals have put what will make us sweat. The road to virtue is long and goes steep up hill, hard climbing at first, but the last of it, when you get to the summit (if you get there) is easy going after the hard part.”

Do not ever be afraid of causing offense, ,making jokes or living your life on the side of truth. Tell a person that they are doing harm to themselves with a clear conscience as long as you do it for the right reason: the encouragement of health and wellbeing.

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[thepassivewitness]

Who Am I? (I’m Jean Valjean!) ... sorry .... another earworm.

Subtitle: “Where’s my dinner? One of the great master’s indeed” (aka: I am not a Master or a Dominant. I am submissive, weak, disconnected and hollow … clearly.)

I have spent the past few days sifting in reflection in some of the thoughts and questions I had posed to me both recently and over the past few months.

“How do you identify?”

I have myself listed as ‘Master’ and with that comes a presumption by many of an equally many different envisionments of what that is supposed to be like.

I have compromised and adjusted my expectations, wants, desires and needs in past in favour of ensuring my partner is able, healthy and the relationship itself with the human I have been with was paramount, even above my own self at times. For me during those times the person I have chosen to commit myself to and the relationship we have had has been far greater a priority than roles or black and white lines of expectation defined by one title or another.

The living of my life with my partner and my partner herself were the priority. The rest can be added or taken away. I have lived in both vanilla and non-vanilla relationships alike, with both older and younger partners.

I have thrown out the expectations or demands of my place replacing it with the basic core fact … I was in a relationship with the person I was committed to. What and where she was, could be, was going to and trying to keep us healthy, safe, secure and together were the priorities, not the power dynamic, the kink, any games or roles. The PERSON was the priority.

Through all of that, however, there have been some basics of the who and the what that I am, regardless of title.

As I have reflected deeply over the past several days, these are my thoughts. I take my responsibility of taking care of my partner to heart.

I am both complex and bewilderingly simple, so the job of trying to understand me is equally complex and bewilderingly simple.

The fact that I don’t ‘demand’ without compromise that my partner be exactly as and how I want her to be clearly makes me powerless … at least to those who lose sight of some of the basics.

First … if I have a partner and I am with my partner - I am WITH my PARTNER!  SHE is my world, and my everything. That is ultimately what I expect of her where I am in her life, so for me that is nothing short of paramount for my investment in kind.

With the presumption that anyone in my position is Neanderthal like and the disconnection from reality that the person with whom I share myself is ‘nothing’ is beyond nauseating to me.

For me, it is a power exchange but also for me it is a partnership. It is a completion of two parts meshing and becoming ‘the consummate couple’ … that couple that everyone wants to be and to have. The ideal.

I open doors for my partner. I pull out the chair for her to sit in.  I walk between her and the road or between potential hurt or harm.  I hold her close. I seat belt my partner in and I make sure she is safe and secure before we drive away. I tend to ‘order for the lady’. I adore her being my lady as well as my partner, or the other many titles that may apply to her if anyone were to capture here in a snapshot of a second’s view, be it sub, slave, little, lady, woman, slut, whore, snob, bitch … whatever it may be at that second, we are never any one specific thing exclusively, though the overall package of a person tends to allow us to be primarily something more than another thing. It is not because I am submitting to her, nor is it because she is incapable of doing these things for herself. I am not, and she is. I do it because I am a bit old school and because of my role in her life and hers in mine.

I am not poly. I don’t have the heart for it. I have been the other man too many times and I have been deemed ‘disposable’ in those past triads. I do not judge nor hold ill vision or will toward those who do live that life, I just know I do not have the strength or depth to be able to endure that environment. I am far too greedy for my partner to be able to do that. That is not to say I don’t date, but once the commitment is made … that’s it.

I know my own self worth and my value. I know that I have to offer and give and I know it is worthy of the right person to share that with, where I am not a substandard priority or a mere option, but where I am *THE* priority in her life and where we are the nucleus to our lives and in the midst of the world around us.

I have heard bewilderment at the thought that, being a dominant person, I should be single and looking. That I should be able to have anyone I so desire and should not be single. Like it is a presumption of failure of the very title “Dominant” in EVERY way that makes it such that I am single and unpartnered.

I have suffered the affliction of the ‘kid in a candy store’, seeing everything, wanting to grab everything and stuffing myself in an ignorance of gluttony that would make the most steadfast person sick at the sight, certainly as I reflect back on my earliest phases of this life I know that *I* feel ill at the reflection, and thankful for the development of self.

We have a planet with several BILLION people on it, pretty much equal in its division of the genders … so the adage of ‘plenty of fish in the sea’ would seem to hold accurate, but the fact is that there is a filtering system that we all have and use. We have checklists and wants, needs and desires that sift and strain the masses down to select few.

That is just the general living of life filters, though far from inconsequential given the need to actually LIVE life with the person you are with after the few seconds, minutes or hours of passion and desire have passed. The fact is, again … for ME … the whole package is an imperative.

I am intense … so much so that it is one of my weaknesses as much as it is a strength. It is overpowering and my ability to overwhelm is notable. It has been the cost of some potential matches over the years gone by.

I am a control freak. I have a need to know everything about my partner, have my hand in her life in some way, even if only to be present from afar and have her checking in with me. It is not because she is unable or incompetent. It is because of the want to have that power exchange to have our places to and for one another regardless of where we are geographically. With that said, I am also compromising. I listen and feel, I take in and consider her thoughts, views, feelings and experiences.

This is probably the most accurate area to question the designation of ‘Master’ vs. ‘Dominant’ vs. ‘Top’.

I adore having the absolutes of a TPE in a 24/7 living of this life with a partner that fits, meshes, matches and with whom both are invested exclusively in one another. There is the first designator. BUT … yes that ugly word that should be four letters instead of three … I am also realistic. I am not weak, but rather aware, cautious, dare I say even possessing wisdom. I am flexible on those demands where a partner is concerned because I am aware of the fact that the person I am with …. IS A HUMAN!

She may not be able to be in places from one time to another, or her stage of development may not be anywhere near the various levels of the abyss that I am able to descend to. And if someone is not wanting, willing or able to go to a place, I am NOT going to force someone to be in a place they don’t want to be … especially including being by my side.

I don’t want someone who doesn’t want to be with me and who doesn’t want me. Why would I want to have something so toxic filling our lives with broken acid of distain?

So as I allow flexibility in the relationship to take on it’s own life and form, supposedly I diminish myself in the designation and the definition. The world we live in today is far from anything like we have seen in past. In past should someone complain or make accusation, it carried a punch and in rare cases it held devastating results – with good reason as typically only the ugliest of actions and disregard for humans was deemed criminal.

Today, even just the complaint is sufficient to destroy a life, founded or not. Any whisper of ill will or harassing action is sufficient to remove employment, ostracize a person from family, friends and community, and has a power infused such as we have not seen, potentially ever. That is both good and bad. So to keep a very solid eye on the reality bubble and to recognize that you are dealing with actual human beings in this, actual people, is an essential part to my being. I am keenly aware of this in today’s world and society, and even more I work exceptionally hard to keep in tune with the person whom I would have as my partner.

I still have my expectations, I still have my wants and needs and I still drive toward those. I still have my tolerances and limits where ‘enough is enough’, where the sacrifice of self for the well being of my partner becomes simply …. Too much. Where the self sacrifice and destruction is valueless and the worth of me is so diminished that the only option is to walk away. That is not to say that there is not a lot that goes on between the points of the summit of “IT” and the base of “good luck to you”, but the ability to recognize that my partner is in a different place and deciding if the path she is on is close enough to me and if we value each other is one of the cornerstones to my foundation …. And protection of both the person I am taking responsibility for … and myself!

That is obviously weak and giving up my power. After all, ME BIG D (or M) you little puny s (or …. still s).

Clearly.

Building on that, I am constantly needing to know her thoughts, feelings, insights, views, spirit and body. If I am not in tune with her, then how can I know where WE are and how to manage the lives we have chosen to live together.

It is suffocating for many and difficult at times, but the connection and bond that comes from that when it is right … that is beyond measure.

I am a romantic. I am a HOPELESS romantic. I have a love and a passion for the partner whom I invest myself into to the depths and heights far beyond what can be measured. I love to sing to her (sometimes badly). I love to dance with her, at home, on a dance floor or in the middle of Walmart, Safeway, McDonalds … it doesn’t matter … without apology. I love the connection of dancing with my partner and who cares who thinks what. I do not live my life for others. I live my life for myself and the partner in my life.

I am very, VERY tactile and PDA is simply a part of life if you were to get stuck with me as my partner. I have NO issue and make absolutely NO APOLOGY for kissing and loving the woman who would be by my side and sharing my life. As private a man as I may be, I will love letting the entire Universe know what an amazing find I have and how spectacular we are together at every moment I can. With tact, with refinement, with total abandon at times, but never with apology.

That is not to say that I don’t maintain a respect for those who are around myself and my partner, those who have chosen a life very different from that which we would share together. That is not to say that we give up our dynamic nor our life choice. We just adjust it … we tailor how we present that with one another.

“I am going to head over to the bathroom for a few minutes if that’s okay’ vs. ‘Sir, may I please go to the bathroom’ …. The dynamic is still present, we are still in touch with where one another is, I know where she is and that she is safe, she knows I am there waiting for her and we are still intact. Small gestures, small movements, small phraseologies … and we are still U/us. But that is an US thing …. Exclusive to US.

That is intimate.

I don’t have all the answers all the time. There are times when I don’t know. I am not omnipotent and I do NOT know it all or know everything. Anyone who says they do … they would be someone I would be extremely wary of and likely try and avoid.

There are times when in all my demands for control and TPE, I WILL GET IT WRONG! I *WILL* make mistakes. I can guarantee that I will rip myself apart for any error far more than anyone or anything else ever could should those things happen.

There are times when I am weak and collapsed. There are times when I sob uncontrollably. When I am near complete and utter destruction or when all my strength and resolve have been ripped from me.

I am human. I am not super human and I am not an automaton. I have learned over the years that being male means that I am expected to not show weakness, not show emotions, not be human, so I keep those things to myself or if I have a partner, then I trust them.

I, like anyone else, love to be held during those times, to have someone watching my back when I am collapsed in a heap on the ground and unable to move, fighting to regain my strength to stand once again. Is it any wonder I am selective as to whom I allow to come that close to me, let alone to stay? I am rough, sadistic and primal. In this lifestyle or life choice, it is deemed abuse to the outside eye. For me and with my partner, it is not pain for pain sake. I find arousal in having that with the RIGHT woman. I do not do casual. It is not part of my DNA. I need to have the trust, the bond and the connection to go down those roads with a person. It is a very, VERY intimate thing that I share and I don’t do open, casual or NSA. As part of the paradox I am also gentle, tender, kind and giving. It is a mix. I am a mix. Neither complex nor simple, yet both inclusive with all the spectrum in between.

I can appreciate having and sharing the delights of rope or bindings, wax or floggers, crops or clothespins just to name a few … and were I may find some erotic, dare I say perverse, delights in these and the sadomasochistic realms, hurting my partner may be something we share … but I would never HARM my partner if I were able to ever avoid that.

As one lesson of past stated … ‘you lose your partner, you lose yourself!’ and that is a lesson that has stayed with me for decades.

I come from a once upon a time when the community was singular and whole. Where we were not as fractured as we are now. Where we had and held to the understanding that whatever aspects of this life choice or lifestyle may be appealing to another person, if it was not for us as individuals then that was fine. Where it may turn me pale at the thought or leave me unable to even conceive of living a life the way the other person or people do, that … was … FINE! If it made that person and/or the people they were with happy, and it was not causing actual harm … then who the HELL am *I* to judge someone else? I have neither the right nor would I … DO I want it.

As fractured and multi-celled as our communities are now, I still hold to that basic tenant and it saddens me to see some of the posturing, infighting or conflict where none existed before. On the other hand one of the benefits is that there is increased selection and opportunity to enjoy company of others on a fairly regular basis.

I have an undeniable draw toward a younger partner. It is not a profound prerequisite, but I know myself to know the draw exists given the right woman and it is powerful. I love living my life with someone younger than myself. I still have many things I love doing and things I still want to do. As much as I LOVE curling up in bed for prolonged periods of time, watching Netflix or a movie marathon or a TV series binge watch, playing chess, crib, board games or enjoying cooking in the kitchen or enjoying the fireplace with the right person, I still love jogging, I want to ski, a want to travel, fly, climb some mountain summits (with or without the help of a tram between base and that summit), skating, and sharing adventures of all kinds. I love the enjoyment of sharing firsts, be it mutual or exclusive to either one of us.  I love enjoying the delights of her joys and taking on her sorrows.

Those things clearly compromise my position of dominance and power.

I am tactile beyond measure. I ache for my partner’s touch constantly. I have had moments of pure wonder, non-sexual, where the mere touch of my partner has been universe defining and soul moving. The weakness of this is obvious in the erosion of the very strength that makes or defines me as a dominant person, certainly it destroys any semblance of the title “Master”.

I once read a quote saying something like “A submissive needs to be wanted. A Dominant needs to be NEEDED!”, and that is certainly part of my core being as well.

I typically refer back to a basic checklist for being involved or in a place. Am I wanted, Am I needed, Am I loved, Am I valued, Am I doing any good? If the answer is no to all of those things, I will be out of there as best as I am able as soon as I am capable. It is a fairly good checklist that can help guide me in potential relationships as well as life.

I am a militant non-smoker and an absolute drug free zone. I have allergies to cats, some to horses and a little less to feathers but I love the critters very much despite those limitations.

I have scars, inside and out. I have suffered losses as anyone who lives long enough will have to suffer through. These are my own and I try to wear them internally and privately, though with my partner there are no secrets, no walls, no barriers … not between us.

I am staunch, stubborn and unmoving in many areas, yet open minded, flexible and fluid where able, often looking to see what others may see and often debate and try and consider the devil’s advocate’s position. I want things my way but I also want to make sure my partner is healthy and happy, fulfilled by me and with me as much as the life that surrounds us as best as we are able.

I adjust myself to what and where my partner is, where she is able to be and where her growth takes her. At times that has taken her on a path away from me, obviously, as I am single.

I am fiercely private, possessive, greedy, and territorial, especially where my partner is concerned.

I am refined to a degree, even snob like at times, yet am aware of the times I have been living in poverty, homeless and recognize I am only existing now through the graces of others kindnesses and support in decades past. I am not particularly religious, but I am spiritual. I am reserved and careful yet with the right people and/or partner I am wide open.

I am unshockable and can see different aspects, even arousal, to some very dark places, while still plunging with absolute delight and relishing the lightest of places as well.

You add all these to the filters and suddenly it changes from plenty of fish in the sea to needle in a haystack.

I am that I am that I am. I exist. I struggle, I feel, I cry, I smile, I laugh, scream, fear, breathe …. Live.

Yet another series of confirming qualities that clearly delineate me as being unworthy of the title “Dominant”, let alone “Master”. So with all that, clearly my definition of self is horrifically erroneous.

So. Who I am: - Sadist - Daddy - Top - Dominant - Predator - Stuck up - Asshole - Weak - Submissive - A pushover - Undefined - Master? ….. pfft.

Every person will have their own take on who I am, what I am and how I am made depending on what aspect they look at me from and what facets they are allowed to see.

A master of none is no master indeed. Counterpoint, however, is in the definition by itself.

The mastery of self, of keeping an even eye and as best as possible of heart and the life inclusive of those of importance and value, of working and meshing with a partner, of guiding and living up to the responsibilities of the job and role I have signed up for, of considering and working with my partner …. That, one could argue, IS the definition of Mastery.

I chose that definition knowing the overall self of me. I am not overt in my declaration, with exception to a select few, but it is there and exists none the less.

This is MY definition of self. This does NOT apply to ANYONE else. Anyone else’s definitions still apply for themselves as they so see fit. It is their right and their life. It is not my place to judge nor would I want it.

I am me, and for that I protect myself and those dearest to me, while at the same time not apologizing.

The definition of self continues, but the place I note fits in a select place with select persons.

Oh … and I am verbose (at times).

This is a glimpse of who I am. Certainly it is not the whole, but it is a snapshot. And I am far from perfect.

I am a paradox incarnate. I am a mix.

I know that I am not an easy man to live with, let alone be partnered with. At least if it is the wrong person, but that I suspect applies to anyone and everyone who may be mismatched. But still, it is not as easy as it could be, for certain. So where does the definition fit and work and where does it not?

To each their own.

All I can say is that this is some of how I am defined in, of, and by myself. And for each of us that is ultimately the only thing we can be ... defined by ourselves.