#this is me being anti people who take things too far and assume they ACTUALLY know what's happening in people's lives

[beautifulpersonpeach]

Hi BPP hope you are doing great. I’m a jikooker but there’s something that’s been bothering me a little bit and i would like to get ur opinion on it. So after Jimin posted that photo of himself and Jk, i saw some people making comments about Jk’s body language and how he kept his elbow out to keep a distance between him and Jimin. I’ve also seen other instances on original content when Jk’s body language with Jimin was kinda off or negative and the barely looked relaxed around him. When u see him with literally anyone else, he looks really relaxed and does not mind sitting really close to them but with Jimin it looks like sometimes Jk wants to intentionally keep a distance. Now I don’t even for one second believe the nonsense tkkrs and antis spew about Jk hating Jimin. Anybody with eyes can see how much Jk cares for and loves Jimin. So why do you think his body language is like that? And is this something you’ve noticed too? I would really like to hear what you think.

***

Rant incoming.

Hi Anon,

I'm going to make an example of your ask to show something I keep repeating from time to time, which is that the majority of the problems, 'discourse', and source of angst in k-pop spaces, is manufactured by k-pop stans themselves and has almost nothing to do with reality or the members.

One of the biggest tells that something is fan-manufactured BS, is if the narrative is riddled with contradictions, because cognitive dissonance can only take one so far.

For reference, to be sure the whole class is all on the same page, here's the picture Anon is referring to:

*

Anon, let's pick apart your ask a little bit.

"So after Jimin posted that photo of himself and Jk, i saw some people making comments about Jk’s body language and how he kept his elbow out to keep a distance between him and Jimin."

Let's first talk about why you're listening to anybody trying to read body language from one still picture showing two Busan Bros and their backs.

The person most able and likely to fully read Jungkook's body language in this scenario, is Jimin. You know, the person who was beside Jungkook, actually with him in person, when the picture was taken. Not some random internet stranger sitting on their sofa looking at a still, pixelated image of jikook's backs.

Following that logic, if Jungkook was in any way uncomfortable with Jimin or wanted to get away from him in this instance, you'd have to first assume Jimin is inconsiderate, oblivious of Jungkook's feelings, or being something of a troll to JK, to then assume he'd go ahead and force JK to take this picture and then post it (assumed by some people to show JK was uncomfortable with Jimin in this case) on Jungkook's birthday.

Which is the end goal of that narrative. It takes an innocuous picture, and forces an end conclusion by first introducing a harmful assumption but one necessary to reach the end conclusion, in this case that assumption is of Jimin's character. So that's how a picture of Jungkook having his hands clasped in front him and likely holding something, which is obvious from the picture and which easily explains his posture, and shows JK actually leaning into Jimin - an obvious contradiction to the end-claim, then becomes fodder for the narrative of 'JK's body language around Jimin is "kinda off or negative and the barely looked relaxed around him."'

Like, that's a whole bunch of words pulled from the ether that have no bearing or relationship to the actual picture we're all looking at. All of those words came from the imagination of someone else who has nothing to do with jikook, and now I'm sitting here in my hotel room having to explain why it's bullshit.

Actually I didn't have to answer this, normally I'd delete it, but you started off your ask nicely and it's a good one to pick apart.

Because it shows the thing that really gets me about the kind of theories that drive discourse in BTS fan spaces. It's that every time, there's far more accessible and simpler explanations to explain what you're seeing, than anything you get from antis, shippers, rival shippers, akgaes, mantis - the usual suspects for this disease of a hyper-active imagination that for some reason always follows the plotline of a Fernando Gaitán telenovela. It's almost like the members are not treated as real people, but as fodder for drama and sensationalist conspiracy theories for that fan's entertainment, self-fulfillment and actualization.

It's what makes fandom such a self-sustaining system. It's that even when there are no problems or drama, you can count on some fan somewhere who will eagerly create them out of thin air, just to get a reaction from other fans who perhaps subconsciously have the primary motivations of the initial fan: treating the members first and foremost as a means to explore unresolved anxieties, insecurities, and boredom.

Now, this doesn't mean that Jungkook can never be uncomfortable around Jimin or want to keep his distance. We know it's possible because Jungkook is a person, and it's human to sometimes want your own space or to want to not always be in physical proximity with people around you, and that this can happen for a whole bunch of reasons. But what you sent me Anon, is an ask that's about a theory where the source of the theory itself (the picture), contradicts the end-claim of the theory, just to feed an underlying fan narrative that's often found in spaces that don't treat either Jimin or Jungkook as real people. The picture doesn't actually show Jungkook pulling away from Jimin. It shows Jungkook with his hands clasped in front of him, leaning into Jimin so Jimin's arm can get around his shoulder, Jimin standing with an upright posture, and both Jimin and Jungkook looking in the same direction.

The only thing possible to infer from this picture, is that jikook are jikooking.

It's possible this is a reality that makes some people so uncomfortable they'd look for any explanation to take away from that fact, including believing theories that are inherently self-contradictory, but there's no reason you need to play along with that BS. It wastes everybody's time and does nothing but dumb down the conversation in fan spaces.

[cartoonscientist]

this has probably been touched on before but so much of fionna and cake ties into the theme of self-value and self care by making references to (what is traditionally viewed as female-centered) fan culture and specifically the debate around whether fanfiction should have “some basic level of quality” or whether it should be considered an unbridled form of self expression closer to art therapy than writing a professional novel (it obviously comes down on the side of the latter)

the theme of Simon not wanting to discuss his “old stuff” that he finds embarrassing and painful because he wrote it in a very bad place mentally, what he sees as mediocre, emotionally masturbatory wish fulfillment that says way too much about his psyche, although it’s shown that other people get a lot out of the Fionna and Cake series, suggesting that it’s a versatile work of fiction which readers can interpret to fit their own emotional needs even if it’s not exactly “high art”

or Scarab’s ultimately self-destructive obsession with wiping out what he considers a “mediocre” “abomination”, even though everyone around him is telling him to chill and let it go and focus on more important things because it doesn't really matter. for years, and even today, fandom has been plagued with (usually cishet male these days, but women used to make up a far larger portion of the snark/anti-fan community) fans who don't only dislike shipping and original characters, they actively seek out creators who do enjoy these things to harass them. or, I'm sure you've seen those people on twitter who get really mad about the fact that leaving long critical notes on ao3 fics (when not prompted or specifically requested not to) is widely considered Pretty Fucking Mean

both Simon and Scarab are basically being told by the narrative to take it easy, to not care so hard about like, the ontological definitions of "art" and "quality". Simon learns to value Fionna and her world, realizing that they have a life beyond the circumstances he believed he created them under. (but when he again tries to assume control, to sacrifice his own well-being for people he feels are more deserving of love than him, his space god girlfriend basically slaps him and says "you are so special and amazing on your own simon, you don't need to hurt yourself, you don't need to try to handle everything by yourself, and actually sacrificing yourself when you don't need to is kind of a dick move, and yes I know from experience because I'm omniscient now" [which ties into what's kind of the thesis statement of the show, Simon and Fionna both feeling like they're not special and don't deserve to exist or receive care and affection because they aren't exceptional, ie don't have magical abilities/live in an adventurous fantasy world; basically, you don't NEED to be super talented and amazing and saintlike to deserve to be happy, you just need to BE, and do your best as a human])

FOOTNOTE: when Scarab told Fionna that what she did wrong was exist, it was painfully reminiscent of transphobic (and anti-ND) harassment (and ultimately added another layer of satisfaction and validation to his defeat) and tbh it's hard for me to believe the writers didn't intend that at least subconsciously

[ormymarius]

Do you consider comic!Orm (from New 52) to be an anti-hero or outright villain? Personally I think his actions attacking the surface were justified considering that, from his perspective, it seemed like an uncalled for attack on Atlantis, and the Justice League were too self-righteous about his retaliation (as if he had attacked the surface for fun instead of a valid reason.) This leads to my second question: how tf did he forgive Arthur for locking him up and not even bothering to visit him? Did they ever talk after that? I know Orm loves him, but is he That forgiving? I assume he'd see Arthur as a traitor for siding with the surface over Atlantis (in his eyes) so do you think he'd still consider Arthur fit to be king of Atlantis after that perceived betrayal?

On that same line, do you agree that Orm's motivations do not stem from desperately wanting the throne? To me he's not a ruthless power-hungry asshole willing to sell his brother in order to be king, he just wants what's best for Atlantis. Sorry for the long ask, but the whole Throne of Atlantis arc is so interesting to me!

I consider new 52 Orm to be partly an antihero because we didn’t get to see enough of him being one tbh. But to me he’s more morally gray than anything else. I also think he was justified, he was doing what a good king would and defending his people even if Vulko manipulated him into doing the whole thing. Orm is a victim just as much as anyone else was.

I think the Justice League (if they were well written) should’ve communicated with Orm more clearly instead of outright attacking him and treating him as if he were a monster and a supervillain terrorist (which is what the surface labeled him for defending his people ://)

I don’t think Orm ever forgave Arthur for locking him up on the surface and it’s the reason he’s so pissed at Arthur in the first place, that’s partly the cause of their beef — Arthur abandoned him. They didn’t really talk after that.

Also, Orm was poorly written when he appeared in an actual Aquaman comic after years as a villain. His characterization was so stupid and inconsistent in KSD’s run, I don’t even wanna talk about it lmao. + Aquamen was just as stupid. Anyway, Orm doesn’t love Arthur anymore or consider Arthur to be fit for king like he once did. Orm resents him. But as far as most sibling relationships go, deep down you’ll always care for them in some capacity even if there’s lots of resentment there. That’s the thing with family.

I agree that New 52 Orm wasn’t power hungry at all. He just wanted to protect his people and Atlantis. He’d do anything for them. That’s just who he is.

I don’t think Orm should be written as wanting the throne anymore. It’s a dumb motivation and it doesn’t go anywhere, it lacks for interesting stories and it’s overdone. I think Orm should be more of an ecoterrorist like Poison Ivy if you will (someone who will commit to extreme violence for the protection of the environment). It would make Arthur and Orm’s dynamic more interesting, as Arthur can agree with protecting the environment but he can’t agree with Orm’s violent tendencies for protecting the environment. That’s my take.

[throwawaydracula]

A funny thing about Lucy Westenra is that the idea of her 'asking for it' vis-à-vis vampirism is so heavily ingrained into popular culture that even some of her defenders come to her defense specifically by saying 'well, it's not her fault Stoker was a sexually repressed slut-shaming Victorian'. Now, I am not going to deny at all that Stoker was a sexually repressed slut-shaming Victorian. Whatever was in his heart, that's more-or-less how he comported himself publicly, because that was the social norm. "You have shaken off the shackles and your wings are free. I have the shackles on my shoulders still — but I have no wings" is going to haunt me forever, but what we feel inside doesn't matter more than what we actually say and do publicly.

What I am going to argue against is the idea that Stoker thought Lucy was deserving of some kind of punishment, that the count's attacks were a moral consequence. I am going to argue that it's far more likely he thought of her as a kind of Anti-Dracula, an embodiment of delicate goodness standing against a rapacious evil, and tragically falling before it.

Thematically, it's easy enough to call her a foil to Dracula if we assume that the three vampire women were Dracula's brides. Presumably, they all suffered the same way Lucy did-- he took their blood slowly and agonizingly, and in doing so laid a claim on them. But this claim created no bond. Mocking of Dracula as they are, it's clear that any love between them has long since guttered out, even if he insists he did love them once. Was it ever real love in the first place, or was it only desire, the selfish wanting of another person, appetite misconstrued as affection?

In contrast, Lucy has her three suitors-- men she all loves, would all marry if she could. And all of them love her; Quincey might have said it was all in the past, but love isn't something you can turn off like a switch just by willing it away. Lucy didn't ask for any of their blood-- they all gave it willingly, out of love. I know it's easy to read the transfusions as a metaphor for sex, but I think love works a little better, here. Consider that Stoker was a Christian, and the far-reaching symbolism of the blood of Christ as infused with love, as something that can bring salvation. Even before he knew of the transfusion, Arthur was willing to give every drop of his blood to save Lucy.

Dracula has to take blood by force, and in doing so brings death and misery. Lucy's taking blood from her suitors by their own volition (indeed completely by their own volition, as she was too weak to ask) all brought them a measure of comfort-- this was something they could do for her to help her, to try to win life for her. There is no selfishness on their part, nor on Lucy's part. And in the same way that Lucy is a potential fourth 'bride', Van Helsing shares the devotion to Lucy along with the three suitors.

Now, the crux of assuming Stoker thought Lucy needed to be 'punished' rests on this line:

Why can’t they let a girl marry three men, or as many as want her, and save all this trouble? But this is heresy, and I must not say it.

As some people have noted, this does come across as more risqué to the Victorians than it would to a modern audience. At the same time, it's important to remember all Lucy has done is share a furtive little wish at this point, and even condemned it herself. The Victorians were extreme moralists, and I'm sure you could find people at the time who would say Lucy deserved some kind of punishment for this thought. You could probably even find a few who wouldn't say slow death by vampire was hideously disproportionate. But Stoker's treatment of Lucy is always as a sweet, gentle, loving and lovely person who is being brutalized by a monster. When it came to imparting moral lessons, the Victorians were not subtle people, and yet Lucy is never explicitly portrayed as deserving anything that happens to her.

Note also Lucy's use of the word 'heresy', because in this specific book that doesn't come across as damning as it otherwise might. Remember, Stoker was a 19th century Church of Ireland Anglican. From his perspective (and indeed the English characters' perspective), the Roman Catholic Van Helsing is a heretic. The presumably Russian Orthodox captain of the Demeter was a heretic. Sister Agatha is a heretic. The villagers who gave Jonathan all the anti-vampire gear including the crucifix were heretics. This book is absolutely full of good, morally upstanding heretics. Bram Stoker was rather strikingly heretic-positive for his time and place.

As I said in the beginning, part of the issue here is the pop culture image of Lucy. In the 1931 version with Bela Lugosi, Lucy takes an interest in Dracula-- and dies for it. In the 1958 version with Christopher Lee, she actually hops out on her balcony and bears her throat to him, also consciously gets rid of her garlic-- and dies for it. In the 1992 version with Gary Oldman... god I don't even know where to start with that one. I do like that movie, I'm not bashing it (or not all of it) but... well, let's say it's not terribly subtle when it comes to how we're supposed to read Lucy's situation. I could go on, but there are a lot of adaptations.

In short: I don't think Stoker wanting his audience to come away from this thinking "Well, that's what happens to girls who think dirty thoughts". I think he wanted us to feel all the pain of losing a kind, loving human being. I think he wanted us to hate Dracula for essentially torturing her to death. Again, with Lucy the symbolism of blood loss is completely reversed-- she is the opposite of Dracula right up until she dies. Stoker was massively sexually repressed, and shared in a cultural fear of sexuality, especially female sexuality, but I don't think in Lucy's specific case he meant for Dracula's murder of her to be read as a just or natural consequence.

If you haven't finished the book, I would advise you to please stop reading here, because there are minor spoilers incoming. Nothing specific, just vague allusions, but still, there's nothing more of value for you to read here.

BRIEF, MINOR SPOILERS WHILE I ADDRESS PEOPLE WHO HAVE ALREADY READ THE BOOK THROUGH.

Yes, I know what happens next, and I stand by all my above arguments. I'm gonna be writing more of my thoughts about that when the time comes. Possibly going to split that one into two posts, because looking back at this one yeesh it got away from me.

END OF BRIEF, MINOR SPOILERS.

[quill-is-brainstorming]

Quill reads:

The Eight Arrow

Chapter 1: Out of Depths

Part 2/2

Part 1 in case you missed it

I'm sorry Diomedes is BLOND???

"Diomedes knew when to shut the fuck up. Unfortunately for everyone however, I did not" - literally Odysseus

Damn, this'll be My Goodbye all over again, won't it?

LOOK AT ALL HIS HOPES AND DREAMS BEING UTTERLY CRUSHED BY ATHENA, GODDAMN-

Oh, alright so Athena is literally their mom, okay-

Honestly though, the "my sons" aside, this really feels like a mother telling her 9 year old children to go do something for her like taking out the trash and the kids taking it way too seriously.

"You've come to guide us out" :D

"Ah, you wish"

"But what are we supposed to do? We don't even know the way..."

"Yeah that's the point Diomedes, you absolute fucking moron."

Goddess of Wisdom? More like goddess of spitting absolute bars.

Athena, these two have been sitting in a flame for 3000 years, no need to roast them any further.

(Also watch as Athena is later on revealed to be like the Virgin Mary or something-)

Alright so this kinda confuses me.

Athena says they'll be teleported to the first circle of hell, "where the small-souled chase the wind", which I'm assuming is the actual first circle of hell, because the people there are basically forced to live in a tornado (very banal explanation of it, I know).

But then she mentions the entrance of hell...which isn't in the first circle. The first thing you see among entering Hell through the door is the Anti-Inferno, aka: the place where all the people that did neither bad nor good in life and that were forgotten stay in. Then you move down one circle and you find yourself in Limbo, the place where all good Pagan souls go. And only THEN you end up in the first circle.

Sooooo, which is it?

I mean I guess I COULD read ahead, but I'm trying to savor the experience little by little so we'll see.

I actually genuinely don't know if I want them to visit Limbo or not actually. Because on one hand, that's where all the Trojans (- Paris, he's in actual hell because Dante thought he was a pussy) are, which could be pretty interesting. On the other hand, I'm assuming this is where Penelope is (because you can't tell me she doesn't show up come on now) and I don't know if I want them reunion to happen so soon...

Again, we'll see :P

And yeah that's pretty much it for chapter 1. It was pretty short so I don't think I have a fully formed opinion on the book yet, but so far I'm having fun. As someone who's currently studying Dante's Inferno in class (and that likes it too), I am very curious to see where this goes.

[bookofmirth]

I was wondering if you would be willing to take on an analysis of Cassian and Nesta’s relationship. I’m a sucker for romance and when I first read acosf I was so excited and happy for all the nessian although there were parts I felt so angry with Cassian because I felt were extremely unnecessary, like making Nesta carry a heavy pack all while not noticing her dehydration, telling her he’s shackled and not getting a decent reconciliation, to name a few. I feel like the story has this imbalance between the two characters because everyone already sees Cassian as this funny, mistreated by society, handsome huge cuddle bear in Feyre’s pov and we see Nesta as this unnecessary asshole in her pov. That, paired with Nesta’s self loathing, is why I can see why some readers are led to believe Nesta is awful to Cassian and might even go as far as agree that she needs to be worthy of him (which is why I have feelings about Mor who is an NC leader and one of her job titles is to help abused women but that’s another topic) then to read it explicitly in Nesta’s pov at the ending of acosf is what made me abandon the ship almost completely. which is a problem because we’ve agreed in previous posts just as Nesta’s pov is subjective by that same logic so is Feyre’s.

I loved reading your thoughts about Nesta and her father since that also didn’t make sense to me. I always figured Nesta’s trauma stemmed from the matriarchal side of her family and it’s helping me come to a certain understanding. I was just hoping maybe your perspective might give nessian a fresh angle I’m missing.

Hello! I will do my best. I assume we probably won't agree 100% but I am very much in the mood to lend some nuance to Nesta's character since the fandom is either intensely anti her or pro her, and both stances distort her character (and tbh some of the takes I've seen COMPLETELY missed the point of her entire character and of acosf, not to mention they are super vitriolic and antagonistic towards other people in the fandom. Calm the fuck down, y'all. No you op, just... the fandom.)

I take nessian as being a very different type of ship than any of sjm's others. Her other ships have tension that usually stops short of cruelty, but nessian are very aggressive as a couple and that energy turns antagonistic sometimes. Their dynamic is what made sjm make them mates, because Nesta is a force to be reckoned with and Cassian is not only strong enough to be with her and give it back, but he doesn't turn away from her either, when so many people in her life have stopped trying (Amren, Elain, Feyre to an extent).

I put the rest of this under the cut because it got very long!

Honestly, it confuses me when people get mad at Cassian for being mean to Nesta because that street goes both ways. They both say horrible things to each other that they know will wound, though Nesta does it first and more often. She calls him a brute and a bastard, when we know that that's one of his major insecurities. And this starts in Wings and Embers!

Her brows flattened. “Leader of the High Lord’s armies, and yet the brute remains. You cannot cow me with words, so you seek to intimidate me through your hulking size.”

Rhys, Az, and Cassian all call each other bastards on occasion but with them it's Bastard (affectionate). When Nesta calls Cassian a bastard/brute, she does it à la Beron and Eris. I honestly can't include all the times that she insults him that way. He lets it go at first, but then we know that, in his POV, this is actually an insult that gets under his skin and something he thinks about himself - much in the same way that Nesta thinks negative things about herself:

They were all staring. Cassian rolled his tensed shoulders, stretching out his wings. He’d revealed too much. Like a stupid brute, he’d let them all see too much, learn too much.

And someone else who uses that against him is Eris:

Cassian clenched his jaw. “So you’re to be my ally whether I wish it or not?” “The brute understands at last.” Cassian ignored the barb.

“It’s the ugliness of his fucking soul that riles me. I don’t care if he calls me a mongrel bastard.” Eris had called him such things today, she realized. Rage rippled through her. “It’s just that, ally or not, I hate him. He’s so slick and unruffled and … I can’t stand him.” He set down his fork and stared toward the window behind her. “Eris and his twisted word games and politics are an enemy I don’t know how to handle. Every time I meet with him, I feel like he’s got the upper hand. Like I can only catch up to him, and he sees through my every fumbling attempt at being clever. Maybe that makes me a stupid brute after all.”

And it's ironic to me that Nesta gets angry at how Eris insulted Cassian in that way, because she has done the exact same thing. So she knows that her blows are landing. In fact, that's why she does it. Nesta has identified a weakness and exploits it in order to push Cassian away, so I'm not surprised that it worked and he snaps. That's the reaction she's going for and that's the kind of behavior she needs to change because she's constantly pushing people away and then getting angry/sad when they leave.

The reason that I am emphasizing the things that Nesta has done here is not to say any of this is her fault, but that they both dish it out, and if we read the whole scenes, it usually starts with Nesta because that's just where she's at in her life right now. I dislike the arguments that because Cassian is older, he should know better or whatever, because 1) Nesta is an adult, and 2) as an Elder Millennial lol I know that age doesn't mean anything when it comes to maturity. In fact, I've lost my fucks with increasing frequency over the past few years. I know 20 year olds who are more mature than 40 year olds. It's just not that simple!

To go back to my initial point about their relationship, I think that even once the intention to harm is gone, now that some reconciliation has happened and they accept the mating bond, they will continue to be that aggressive couple. Feysand are leaders, nessian are warriors, and in the future I see elucien as co-conspirators and gwynriel as competitors. Nesta and Cassian both fight for what they care about, in the literal fighting sense, so it seems natural that that bleeds into their relationship a bit when they are still butting heads and trying to figure out how they work.

There are a couple of things you pointed out that I've noticed other people mention, so I wanted to discuss them!

like making Nesta carry a heavy pack all while not noticing her dehydration

I personally don't have an issue with the hike as a whole (I have another ask where I'll touch on it), but I did read this thing where Nesta passed out from dehydration as being both of their faults. Cassian just isn't paying attention, he forgets that Nesta isn't a hundreds of years old Illyrian tough guy and she *had barely gotten to the bottom of the stairs at the HoW (edit because I forgot she did that just before these shenanigans). Nesta is a grown adult, he's not her babysitter, she could have said something but instead she just suffered. (I wonder if that was also in line with her self-destructive behavior in acofas?) They're basically both being dumb here.

telling her he’s shackled

While he is doing this to hurt Nesta in that scene, all of the acotar mates thus far have said that about their mate. Lucien said it about Elain and Rhys about Feyre, though theirs were in more self-deprecating ways. To me, it just goes back to the push and pull that Nesta and Cassian have. I think the conflict in that scene is that they are essentially talking about two different things - for Cassian, Nesta rejecting the mating bond is her rejecting him. But for Nesta, the mating bond has nothing to do with Cassian and everything to do with her lost humanity. Cassian is taking her reaction personally (and why wouldn't he, when she has spent so much time picking at his insecurities?) and she is thinking of how the Cauldron and being Made affected her (and why wouldn't she, when she is still grappling with her trauma?) They are basically both thinking of themselves! And not considering how the other one feels.

and not getting a decent reconciliation

I think *fingers crossed* that we will see them in a much better place in future books. SJM said that Nesta's story will continue, so I'm just going to be optimistic here. Since the narration won't follow either of their perspectives anymore (we assume) we probably won't get an in-depth exploration of it. In fact, I was surprised when I got towards the end of acosf that I only had 30 more pages because I knew that so much still needed to happen. The end was very rushed but that's a whole different issue 😂

I am curious what you think of them after this! They aren't my favorite acotar ship; that's reserved for feysand and elucien, at least in canon. But I really love Cassian's character for his combination of strength and vulnerability, and Nesta is probably the most complex and interesting thus far, so I enjoy them from that standpoint.

[petr1kov]

I just wanna thank you for your post on the Mandela Effect as a South African! I get the whole effect people are trying to describe but calling it specifically that out of all the weird collective-memory incidents is weird af because that wasn’t even a global thing like the berenstain bears seems to be (I get that ‘cause my childhood memories are berenstein too) + it wasn’t even a phenomena in the region concerned + the people who coinedthat term didn’t seem to have actual exposure/connection/proximity to the events surrounding it.

No one who was actually in or near South Africa remembers him dying because the whole movement to free him was such a big deal it was truly inescapable. You’d have to live under several rocks of wilful ignorance to not know about it. There were a few Black freedom fighters, peers of his, that did die in jail or under police custody, notably Steve Biko, that were publicised during that same time period. I honestly do wonder often if American/European people just heard news of some notable Black anti-apartheid activist in Africa dying in jail and assumed it was him because they’d mashed all those guys together in their minds? Was it a news report about events in a far away country with bad information?

it’s could very well be because of their status as Black activists that got arrested; people in the western world often talk about Mandela as a MLK-esque figure who single-handedly ended apartheid and its flattens the whole history into a narrative about a messianic figure - the sheer determination of a special individual - when in reality he worked with a collective with many Black people and ANC members who did the same acts of resistance and even went to the same prison as him. He actively did try to push back against this narrow, individualistic idea of his role in history when he was alive. Many of these freedom fighters and political figures often get written out of history when the story is told internationally because of this, and their contributions to the movements (along with possibly one of their deaths) may have been subconsciously misattributed to Mandela.

So being from here, everyone I’ve talked to thinks it’s the weirdest thing it’s called the Mandela effect because it seems more like people living far off not taking in the news properly more than a true mass misremembering or… case of collective inter-dimensional travelling.

yes, exactly! this is what truly bothers me about the mandela effect being called that. regardless of whether or not people use it to mean the silly parallel dimensions theory or simply to refer to the mass misremembering of something (as most people tend to do today), which i do find kind of fun and interesting on it's own, still keeping it named after mandela is just incredibly tone-deaf.

no matter which version you look, every definition of this term is based around the fact that those supposed changes in people's memory vs reality are always small, mundane and inconsequential enough as to go unnoticed by someone not paying attention, and like. mandela dying during the apartheid in the 80s is the absolute OPPOSITE of an inconsequential or unimportant event that nobody would pay attention to for years. it's the sort of thing that would bring massive consequences to the history of an entire country, which in turn would also affect the world at large in different ways, most obviously when it comes to black liberation movements.

seeing this term get used to refer to actual silly and inconsequential things such as the berenstain bears misspelling or pikachu's tail not having a black tip is just crazy to me. it's hard not to see it as a dismissal of mandela, as if he is some sort of fictional character from a fictional country, whose impact in real life is on-par with monopoly's mascot not wearing a monocle. and i just know that nobody would so easily accept such a ridiculous conspiracy/concept getting thrown around like this if it were about an US or european president 🤷‍♀️

[erikagaulia]

Just talk to her

Just talk to her, what’s the worst that could happen? Even if she simply laughs in my face, it would surely hurt more in the long run knowing that I never even gave it a shot. Why don’t I just do it? I keep trying to convince myself that it could actually lead to something: there is always the possibility that she’s not how she seems. But, of course, who am I kidding? What possible, tiniest, speck of a chance would I have with someone like Julianna? It’s laughable even imagining it.

Still though, what better opportunity am I going to get? She’s actually here. At this party. She never comes to parties, everyone knows that. There are certainly not going to be any more opportunities for me after we graduate. I’ll probably never see her again after this. But no. Still no. Absolutely not. A woman like Julianna, making time for a short, dim-witted, chubby guy who is definitely going to be bald in a few years’ time? Please. I’m so far beneath her that she’d probably just look at me like some microscopic worm had walked up to her and opened its mouth.

In fact, I basically am all but invisible to her I think. Even though we’ve lived opposite each other in the hall since freshman year, I’m pretty sure she still doesn’t know who I am. We’ve not said a word to each other all this time. Never given me so much as a look. Not that I haven’t wanted to spark up some kind of conversation though. Many times have I fantasised about just that. I’d be happy with even a ‘hello’. I thought about transferring to some of her classes once or twice, to maximise those opportunities, but that just seemed too desperate even for me. In a way, it’s strange seeing her out like this. I’d always assumed she was the sort of person who viewed frat parties as beneath her. I guess I thought of myself as that sort of person too, but look at me now.

-

She disappeared inside the house for a while, but later in the evening, I found her again in the garden, over with a group of sorority chicks. She seems to be part of the group, but she’s not talking to any of them. It’s always amusing to see her like that because she’s so much taller than them. Definitely well over 6 feet in flats alone I’d guess, and who knows what height in heels as big as those. I watch her from the edge of the garden for a bit. She takes infrequent sips from a red cup, probably filled with the same sickly punch that I’m drinking. Occasionally she looks away from the group and scans the party. I make sure to avert my eyes toward something else whenever she does.

I feel sorry for her in a way, she looks so bored. Although come to think of it, she always looks bored. That sort of seems to be her default state. Supposedly she does have real friends, presumably hobbies and stuff too, but I don’t think I’ve ever actually seen her enjoying herself. It’s not like she comes across as annoyed or disappointed by people, more just absent—like there is nothing around that is even worth having a strong emotion about. It’s only the times I spot her in the library at all hours of the night, beavering away on whatever project it is she’s working on that day, that she actually looks like she’s fully invested in something.

Do I really know her? I like to think I do, but I guess no one really does. She seems unknowable in a way, as cliched as that sounds. She doesn’t exactly give much away. What are we supposed to think? People only know the things other people have made up about her, and most of that is just inspired by how she looks. Those who have been lucky enough to speak to her just say she’s unfriendly, aloof. I guess they’re right. The word aloof was pretty much invented to describe someone like her. But the weird thing is I’ve heard others say she’s actually just shy. I can’t believe that though. How could someone who looks and dresses like her be shy? She only gets away with being as anti-social as she is because she’s so ridiculously good-looking. Anyone else would be shunned into being an outcast behaving like her. That’s part of the reason I guess why I never felt I could go up and talk to her. It’s too obvious. How many guys must she have to reject on a daily basis?

After all this time, I still struggle to understand how someone can really, genuinely look like her. How can she be a physical human being inhabiting the same world as the rest of us, as opposed to some illusion—a figment of a horny adolescent’s imagination? Even 3 years on, she still seems as unreal to me as the first day I saw her. Whenever I pass her in the hallway, or while out walking through campus, I have to stop myself from instinctively rubbing my eyes to wipe away the mirage. She always looks like she’s stepped straight off of a computer screen, with body parts precisely curated and then sculpted into a paragon of femininity.

I almost don’t believe it. Her face is simply too exquisite to have emerged naturally. It has this unerring elegance to it while at the same time being so obscenely sexy that it overcomes me with feelings of shame to even look at her class headshot for too long. Then there’s her style, which by some miracle manages to do justice to her innate beauty. With her pristine foundation and blusher contrasted against dark lipstick on plump lips, she always applies her make-up so perfectly that it looks like it’s a part of her face. Her hair falls carelessly yet immaculately onto her shoulders, jet-black locks occasionally parting to reveal turquoise highlights that match her eyes. Her style choices seem to be the only glimpse any of us ever get inside the head of Julianna: she obviously loves colour. Tonight she’s wearing a space-themed multicoloured dress, a figure-hugging number with nebulous purple clouds interspersed by black voids, dotted with gold symbols and sparkly four-pointed stars. Admittedly, the dress covers rather little of her body, but this is on the more modest end of things for her. I am more than happy to excuse her for it though. I get it. If I were as implausibly stunning as her, I would probably want to dress up like a mystical cosmic butterfly as well.

Anyway, I like to flatter myself into thinking it’s just her mysterious personality and exuberant sense of dress that draws me to her. But if I am honest, her body has the largest part to play in that. How something like that is even possible, I have no clue. It certainly defies some biological principles, or at the very least statistical probability. The fact is, Julianna is a very tall and incredibly slender woman, so where in the hell did those enormous breasts come from? They’re each bigger than her head for God’s sake. It’s the sort of thing that pains me to think about, and I’m just a guy. I can tell the other sorority girls in that group she’s with are having the same thought: How can one person be so physically blessed with so much all at once?

I know most people still assume she must have had a boob job or several, and with them being that size I get what they’re saying. But those people don’t know what they’re talking about. I’ve spent enough time studying her now—looking at the way they wobble, how she balances her weight as she walks, how softly they compress and squish when she uses her arms—they’re the real thing. Besides, I spoke to a guy once who went to high school with her. Apparently, she always had massive boobs, even when she was much younger. Out of curiosity I also asked him if she really was always this 6-foot-plus, impossibly beautiful, yet frustratingly unknowable goddess that we see before us now, and he merely shrugged and said “pretty much”.

I get sad when I think about it though really. Not just because all of this just makes me feel like a pervert, which I am, but sad because I’m probably just one of the thousands of such characters she must have to deal with on a daily basis. If anything, her weariness with the world is understandable if the way I think about her is any good reflection of it. I take comfort in the fact that I’ve never acted on anything, and wouldn’t even think to, but I can’t deny that I do think about her a lot. And like so many others, I catch myself staring. It’s so hard not to when someone like her is nearby. Even though, like staring at the Sun, I know it’ll only lead to me hurting myself. And sure, she’s blessed, but she doesn’t deserve that. One can have too much of a good thing I suppose.

In some ways, it must be a drag looking like she does. The attention is one thing, but having a body so crazily out of proportion must be physically exhausting. Although she never lets on that she suffers from it, even imagining the back pain makes me wince. I guess she could always get a breast reduction if she wanted, so perhaps she doesn’t mind their weight and the attention they bring. She certainly doesn’t cover them up that much. And I can count on my hands the number of times I’ve seen her wearing a bra. Also, where does she even find dresses like that anyway? I can only guess that she makes them herself. Whatever the case, I am frankly losing my mind seeing her standing there in that thing.

I remember in my freshman year that, for a long time, I thought she must have been some hallucination—her beauty something only I could see. But then I realised she was simply so attractive that people felt uncomfortable even bringing it up in conversation. Eventually though the almost offensive beauty of the new freshman down the hall couldn’t go ignored. Then people got to know her—and learned of her unsettlingly aloof personality—and something about the spell seemed to break. Now everyone knows her, for better or worse. She’s sort of infamous, in a way. Julianna: the ridiculously hot and ridiculously tall senior who rarely speaks and has gigantic tits. Again, it’s only because of her looks that she even has some semblance of a social life. Despite rarely engaging with anyone, she gets invited to things constantly. I guess it’s just so people can be around her and bask in the second-hand beauty. Of course these events she'd only ever attend sparingly. Like this one, funnily enough. For some reason, that is anyone’s guess, in the final week of semester, Julianna has finally decided to grace us with her presence—at a frat party of all things.

-

As I watch a few basketball players now attempt to make conversation with her, what I can’t understand most of all is how she’s managed to remain single all this time. Why have I never heard of a boyfriend, or even a girlfriend? To be honest, I’m not entirely sure if people even try and hit on her. They must do, surely, but I’d certainly never attempt it. From the way she carries herself, I get the impression that the idea of a relationship is simply beneath her—that there is no one around who remotely matches up. Perhaps when people have tried, she just obliterates them so totally that they never mention it again, pretend like it never happened. Now that I think of it, I did hear of one guy who tried to hit on her at some college event and was even seen maintaining the conversation late into the night. But then he ended up transferring to a different college straight after that and was never seen again. Unrelated, I’m sure, but it makes me wonder how bad could it have gone if she was indeed the cause of all that.

I suppose Julianna really just has no interest in anything like that. From what I hear she’s a very driven woman, very academic. They say she works night and day, and from the handful of times I’ve been in the library late at night, she has always been there. She’s at the top of all of her classes I hear too. Everyone majoring in some math or physics electives—or whatever difficult subject it is she’s majoring in—talks about how insanely smart she is. I can barely even wrap my head around it myself, but then there’s a lot that’s hard to believe about Julianna. As improbable as it is that someone who looks like her could be some kind of super-genius as well, it sadly does seem to be the case. I know she’s on the Dean’s honours list this year, the only one from our graduating class. Someone told me recently too that she’s also made it onto some incredibly prestigious astrophysics grad program, and that schools were practically falling over themselves to offer her fellowships. I can only imagine what they’ll think when they see what she looks like.

It’s shameful really that these are the only things I know about her. I can’t claim to love her exactly, but the place she occupies in my mind is definitely adjacent to that. It worries me that living so close to Julianna was what has spoiled my own romantic exploits during my college career. What kind of person am I to think all these things and still never talk to her? Not even a word. Even after lusting over her for three years, all I know is that she loves stuff to do with space, is incredibly intelligent, and has huge boobs. I’m pathetic really. Why should I be rewarded with a conversation when that’s the end result of my three-year masturbatory obsession?

But then I think to myself: Maybe that’s exactly why I should talk to her. Strike up a conversation. Just get it over with so I can get on with my life. Rip off the bandaid as they say. Maybe I’ll find out that she’s just a huge bitch and I can get over this stupid crush. Or maybe we’d actually hit it off. The latter doesn’t seem so likely, but who knows? I’d kill to even see her smile at this point.

-

As the night wore on, the peak of the party’s activity waned and people began to disperse from the garden of the frat house, either making their way inside to collapse, or scurrying off in couples to some darkened hedgerow to fuck. I’d mostly kept to myself that night, only making light small talk with people if I had to. Drinking far too much of the punch too, which I was now aware was more potent than it tasted.

But I could feel the Dutch courage growing in me now. All that time I had kept a watch on Julianna. She was always easy to spot, such a radiant and colourful vision of a woman, and always a good head-or-so taller than those around her. At one point she drifted from the latest group of sorority girls that were boring her, and towards an empty section of the long marble balustrade that bounded the far end of the garden. I waited for a moment to see if she was planning to join a different group, but she paused. Looking out at the party, scanning it, her gaze eventually landed on me, staring right back at her. I felt in that instant her dazzling emerald eyes pierce my skull. Then, without warning, the alcohol in my veins lifted my feet on my behalf and caused me to walk toward her. I was unable to stop myself, like a magnetic force was moving my body against my will. Her face though, implacable as ever, showed no hint of emotion. No suggestion of either interest or otherwise that I was now approaching her. She merely stood there and waited.

By the time I was a few feet away I felt my face go hot, I knew I must have been turning bright red, my entire head felt as if it was about to explode. Julianna remained still, standing right before me, her breasts so large they occupied an uncomfortable amount of my vision. I realised as I neared her, that I had forgotten just how tall she was. In the heels she was wearing she towered over me at something that must have been close to 6’7’’. I looked up at her face. Oh her face. God she was just too beautiful for me, or for anyone, I thought.

Though we had been staring directly at each other for almost half a minute by now, Julianna had still not opened her mouth or even made so much as a move. In her left hand, she was still holding a red cup. For some reason I found myself lifting my own drink and offering her some kind of weird salute,

“Hey, uh, Julianna. Congrats on making the Dean’s list.” I said.

To which a single eyebrow raised slightly, her eyes looking down at me with half-interested curiosity,

“Thank you Carlos.”

Oh crap. Panic set in as I learned that she did know my name after all. Somehow I never expected that. I knew I shouldn’t have been surprised, having lived so close to each other for three years, but still.

“Uh, you’re welcome.” I continued “So, are you… enjoying the party.”

Some of my drink got caught in my throat, making me sound like a frog, but she ignored it. Instead, she just stared down at me with a blank expression for a few seconds, blinking emptily as if to confirm that really was how I was going to begin this interaction.

“It’s fine,” she replied eventually, in a serious but not unkind voice, “I told myself I’d go to at least one of these things before graduation.”

I chuckled nervously, trying to clear the stench of awkwardness and insecurity that was accumulating around me,

“Oh, heh, yeah they’re not really my thing either. What do you usually do instead?”

“What do you mean?” She asked in response.

Once again her voice was not unkind, but it was oddly stern—a manner that suggested she couldn’t quite believe my offerings of conversation were really as dull as this.

“I mean, what do you usually do in the evenings?”

“I usually just stalk the streets to find men to hypnotise and kill.” She answered without emotion.

I paused for a moment in silence, her response was so abrupt that I didn’t even know how to react.

“I’m kidding.” She continued eventually in the same deadpan, before relieving me with just the smallest of smiles out of the corner of her mouth.

“Oh! God… Right, yeah…”

I could see from the subtle roll of her eyes that she had lost hope in me already, though the smile that then followed, surprisingly, carried no element of disdain.

After some further stumbling introductions on my behalf, we did gradually settle into something more closely resembling a human conversation. We exchanged a few more lukewarm sentences about the party and our feelings on finally graduating. She told me about the PhD program she was about to embark on and I tried to stop my eyes from glazing over when she described what she was going to be researching. Something about galaxies, I think. She even asked me a few questions about what I was planning to do, to which I had to admit I had not made any plans for how to make use of the business degree I would soon be in possession of. I expected her to roll her eyes again at that, but she just stared at me blankly, as if my lack of motivation was something she found impossible to even comprehend.

A while later, and as the lingering partygoers began to behave in an increasingly wild and debauched manner, we decided to sit together on the marble balustrade and watch them, freshly topped-up cups of punch in hand. I was grateful for the new position as standing talking to a woman so much taller than I was becoming both uncomfortable and slightly embarrassing.

Safe to say though: I was freaking out. I had tried to keep my growing panic about these developments bottled up, but thanks to the alcohol, I was unable to gauge how much of it might have been coming across in the contortions of my face. But miraculously, Julianna had shown no desire yet to leave our conversation. She had even invited me to sit beside her after getting our refills. It was going so much better than I could have ever anticipated. Julianna of all people, perhaps the smartest and most beautiful woman in existence, actually wanted to talk to me over anyone else at this party. I was so desperately out of my depth that the only way I could focus myself was by thinking only about how to get from one sentence to the next, and by trying my best not to look at her rack.

We gradually exhausted most of the general-purpose topics of conversation students would usually share with each other upon a first meeting. She had humoured my boringness by answering everything politely, but also while sharing precious few details about herself at the same time. I could sense then that a lull in the flow of conversation was approaching. So I decided to make an unannounced attempt to go somewhere deeper.

“So, do you have any regrets?” I blurted out after a fresh silence had stewed between us for an uncomfortable few seconds. For the first time that night, she actually seemed interested in something that had left my mouth. She turned to me and stared down her nose with a look that was avuncular, if a little condescending—like she had just witnessed a small rodent perform a trick.

“Regrets? How do you mean?” She replied, that smirk returning to the corner of her mouth again.

“I mean, things you would have done differently? In college… or in life I guess.”

“No. I don’t.” She replied, turning away from me again.

Once again her reply was so matter-of-fact, and without any form of elaboration, that it took me a second to recalibrate.

“Really? So everything in your life has gone exactly how you wanted it to?”

“Yes.” She answered without a pause,

For a second it looked like I had blown yet another attempt at conversation, but this time she continued.

“Why do you ask? Are there things you wished went differently?”

And the spotlight was back on me. Unfortunately, it seemed my attempt to peel back some of the layers of Julianna had backfired, as it had done several times already now.

“Oh. Well… Yeah,” I sputtered. “Loads of things. I guess we have slightly different outlooks on life.”

Julianna paused for a moment in thought, before shifting her position so as to face me head-on. I once again had to struggle to stop my eyeballs from involuntarily pointing down towards her chest which was now being compressed together by her arms and hovering unnervingly close to my own.

“What do you regret, Carlos.”

She said, enunciating it almost as if it was not a question. Having never heard her talk at length before, I was surprised by just how formal and authoritative her manner of speech was. Her voice had an attractive sonority and depth to it, but at the same time was almost robotic. It gave me the impression that her thoughts were formulated so precisely in her brain that she merely needed to open her mouth and everything she wanted to say would emerge exactly as conceived.

“Oh, you know.” I continued, “just my whole life really. Failure to achieve what I want. Failure to even try.”

I tried to make it sound like one of the dry jokes she would have made, but I could hear the emotion catch in my throat as I spoke, undermining any attempt to come across like I didn’t wholeheartedly believe what I had just said.

“But you got into a good school, I see you have friends, what do you regret?” She asked back, surprising me with a sudden kindness in her voice.

This thread of conversation was not going how I had wanted, and I knew I needed to try and divert from it. But when I looked up at Julianna again she was still staring deep into my eyes, just like she had when I first approached her. Her expression was neither warm nor cold, it was devoid of all emotion yet was somehow incredibly intense. Her wide hazel eyes felt like they had latched onto my own, making it impossible to look away. In the light coming from the frat house in the distance, her smooth, lightly-tanned skin almost looked like it was glowing.

I blinked frantically to try and snap myself out of whatever tipsy daydream was threatening to swallow me up.

“Oh nothing.” I replied, eventually, still feeling startled by Julianna’s gaze. “I just think I’m in a rut, romantically.”

No!, I thought, and slapped my hand across my mouth in shock. I had never intended to add the word “romantically” yet it had somehow fallen unbridled out of my mouth anyway.

“I see.” Julianna continued on my behalf, a semi-smile forming again. So you wish you’d had more hookups? Gotten a girlfriend?”

“I don’t know why we’re talking about this, I wanted to know about you!” I cried, trying to laugh it off. “But yeah, I thought college was when that was all supposed to happen. I’ve just not managed to figure it out. Too much time spent holed up in my dorm I think.”

Julianna turned away from me and looked out across the party. The revelry was now dwindling, with only half the attendees who had been there when we began talking left roaming the garden in a state of undress.

“Well there’s plenty of drunk sorority girls here tonight. I’m sure they wouldn’t mind one last fling before graduation.”

There was an unmistakable note of derision in her voice now.

“I’m not interested in them.” I heard myself say—the second time in a row I had said something without meaning to.

I glanced down at my cup and saw that my punch had disappeared. It was only when I looked up again that the wooziness hit me all at once. I could see Julianna’s cup was almost empty as well, but unlike me, she appeared as calm and centred as always.

“What are you interested in then?”

She replied, eyes narrowing. Her voice was snarky and pitying, but still managing not to come across as unkind.

“Oh come on.” I guffawed at an uncomfortable volume, shaking my head in disbelief.

But Julianna shot back at me sharply,

“Humour me,” she said, taking another sip.

I could really feel my heart thumping now. The drunken courage had so far allowed me to keep up in a conversation with the most beautiful woman I had ever met, but it was obvious now that she was operating on a different level, probably one I would not be able to understand even if I was sober. Yet despite the fact I was sitting here trying to drown myself in a mire of inadequacy, she was still here by my side, egging me on. Perhaps my rambling and drunken incoherence was amusing to her in some way.

“I’m not sure what you want me to say… what were we talking about?” I asked her, my voice sounding weak and panic-stricken all of a sudden.

Julianna smiled and shook her head genially, “you were telling me about your regrets—your failure to find romance in college. I’m asking you: what is it you wish you did? Who is it you wish you did, if you prefer?”

“Well, you know,” I began cautiously, “it’s not really like I have any specific regrets. It’s more generalised regret—a feeling of wasted time.”

“That’s not good.” She replied thoughtfully.

“You don’t feel like that, at times?”

“No” was all she said in response, her reluctance to elaborate further unsurprising at this point in the conversation.

Several minutes of silence drifted past, during which time I tried to regain focus on my surroundings, and Julianna quietly sipped what remained of her drink. She seemed to be watching the party again—the wasted sorority girls in their bikinis, and the various athletes in team jackets attempting to hook up with them in as an enthusiastic but unthreatening manner as they could manage without being given the mace. Julianna seemed both curious and disinterested at once, as though she was somehow their elder, watching the children play their trivial games. Though in reality, she had said precious few words to me so far, I still found myself struck by how remarkably wise—and in a way, ageless—she seemed to be. It was even more surprising just how much this impression had made me forget the outlandish sexuality of that preposterous body of hers. That had clearly been what drew me to her in the first place, but there were just too many astounding and confusing traits about this woman to keep track of at once. It was only when she leant back to stretch her spine that the outward swell of her breasts reminded me of their existence. Each time I had to gulp and look away as they threatened to burst out of her tight, multicoloured dress.

Something caught Julianna’s interest then, and she turned to face me again,

“You know they’re all wasted,” she began, gesturing towards the scenes of animalistic lust playing out in the garden, “Those girls, all the basketball players treat them like shit. If you go to one and talk to her kindly, perhaps hold her hair while she vomits into a toilet, she might even let you fuck her.”

Her smirk suggested she was joking again, but her tone remained as deadpan as ever, to the point that it felt inappropriate to laugh.

“I don’t want that” I replied, knowing full well how she would respond to that.

“So what is it you want, Carlos?” came the inevitable question, one that she was apparently so eager to know the answer to.

I started speaking but found the words clog up like detritus in my throat and come out distasteful.

“Where are you going with all this, you want me to just describe my perfect woman or something?”

“Please.” She said, shooting me another piercing stare with almost-black eyes that I could swear had changed colours since I last looked.

“I mean, it’s not like I think I’m in a position to be picky” I began, my words slurring more than I wanted “but, you know, I’d want a nice girl, someone who wouldn’t mind just being my best friend. Someone who I wouldn’t have to try and be someone else around.”

“Uh huh?” She replied, rolling her eyes.

“What?” I spat back, “what’s wrong with wanting that?”

Julianna sighed and placed one hand on my thigh.

“Nothing, it’s just that ‘that’ was not really much of anything. I was hoping for something more. Tell me something you would usually never admit to. I took a chance on you, Carlos. You seemed like perhaps you had more going on in your head than the others.”

After she took her hand away again, a brief glint in her eye caught mine as she went in for another sip of her drink. Her black eyes seemed to have some streaks of colour appearing in them—strips of green and gold light erupted inside the irises of her left eye, and a dazzling segment of sapphire appeared in the right. I could sense them communicating something to me, silently. Broadcasting some kind of intangible information.

Julianna’s game was still impossible to determine, but the clues had mounted to the point where I was at least certain there was a game being played. She was goading me into doing something. Saying something. What, I had no clue, and was too hopelessly outmatched by her intellect to attempt to find out. But whatever it was, she had taken some hold of me, and I felt a hidden part of me open up.

“Fine… well, if I’m being totally honest… You know, I came over here originally to… sort of…”

“Uh huh?” She interrupted again, nodding at me with sarcastic encouragement.

“I mean, it’s just… I’d always… sort of… liked you…? You know?”

I'd done it. Holding my breath, I braced for impact. But Julianna did not react at first. She instead placed her cup down beside her on the ledge and shuffled her body around so her chest was pointing directly towards me again.

“Me?” She replied, pointing to herself, her voice betraying a sort of forced naivety that she wasn’t attempting to conceal,

“Yeah,” I replied quietly after a beat. I squinted as if a bomb was about to detonate.

Julianna went silent. Instead of putting me out of my misery, she decided to leave me in that state of nerve-wracking suspense, stewing over what I, for no apparent reason, had just admitted to her. I began to question why I did it. But in my state of shellshock, I couldn’t quite figure out how I was even supposed to feel. Julianna just looked down at her lap for some time. We both stared at her fingernails, which were painted black and dotted with thousands of tiny white stars that seemed to sparkle when the light struck them. Eventually, she looked up again, and returned her gaze to mine. The slow, sultry opening of her eyelids made my heartbeat thrum at an even more alarming rate than it had been.

“You don’t even know me.” She said softly, with a breathier voice than before.

“I-I know, but ever since I first saw you… I just… I thought…” I trailed off, feeling incredibly self-conscious now about the fact she had yet to return any sort of similar sentiment towards me, positive or negative.

“What did you think?”

“Just… you know, that you were attractive,” I replied, bitterly.

The words came out harder than I expected. I felt a new sense of irritation come over me. How was she was managing to get this out of me while offering nothing in return, not even a let-down?

“I see, what about me do you find attractive?” Julianna asked. Her eyelids fluttered at me again as if to try and pull me deeper into their trap.

“Well, surely you know Julianna,” I replied, the irritation building further now.

“Tell me.”

In a moment of panic, I stupidly glanced down at her breasts again and felt a sense of frustration—at myself more than anyone—bubble to the surface.

“What do you want me to say? List all the things I find attractive about you? The list of things I don’t would be far shorter. Empty, in fact.”

Her eyebrows raised in anticipation as if to suggest I was finally approaching the destination she was guiding me towards.

“I see. How interesting.” She answered.

I was stunned. Her reply was so condescending that I could scarcely believe I was still talking to the same pleasant girl I had spent the evening with. From the way she had reacted to my admission of attraction to her, anyone would think I had deigned to ask God herself if I could sleep with her. The attitude of this woman had turned in a blink from playful banter, to some kind of off-putting ego trip— one I was keen to escape from.

“Fine, Julianna. You got what you wanted I guess. Yes, it’s true: I like you. I’m sure you find it hilarious how every sorry guy in this college has got a crush on you that’s as big as your tits, but how do you think we feel having to be around some giant super-intelligent super-goddess like you all the time. Save some for the rest of us why don’t you?”

I knew even before opening my mouth that my outburst was a humungous mistake. I half expected Julianna to pick up a nearby drink and throw it in my face, but instead, she just continued to look down her nose at me with the same mirthful smirk as before.

“Huh.” She said, nodding to herself.

“What!? Tell me!” I spat, before sensing the pitiful back-pedalling that I knew was about to follow, “Fuck! Look… I’m sorry it all came out like that, I didn’t mean—”

“Do you think about my tits often, Carlos?” Julianna interrupted.

I froze, my mouth and eyes gaping wide open at her.

“It’s just that you’ve always looked at them a lot,” she continued, “I wonder if they occupy your mind when I’m not around too.”

The way she was speaking was so casual it sounded more like she was asking me for an opinion on a new haircut. Instead, it appeared I had now stumbled into a mind game that involved me being interrogated over having private thoughts about her breasts too often.

“Look, I don’t know what this is… but I’ve had enough. This conversation is making me uncomfortable. I think I’m just gonna—“

“How many times have you imagined having sex with me?” She carried on, ignorning me, before seizing my wrist with her hand to prevent my escape.

I glanced around at the party, but suddenly everyone, even the drunken girls, had disappeared—only a few jocks remained, all of whom were too incapacitated to rescue me from wherever this was headed. Julianna on the other hand was still staring at me with wide, emotionless eyes, one entirely green and the other blue.

“Look, whatever it is I’ve done to upset you… I’m sorry, okay? I’m sorry if my behaviour has ever come across as untoward, or seedy, or… I mean, I would never even think to hurt you or even go near you. Never in a million years would I have thought someone like you—”

“Would want to fuck you?” She interrupted, the smirk disappearing in an in an instant,

“No! I’m sorry, okay!? I apologise. Whatever it is, I apologise. What is your game here? Just tell me and put me out of my misery okay?”

With that, she turned away from me and released my wrist. A few seconds later a sharp pain emerged from where she had grabbed me—the skin around my wrist was stinging badly and in the darkness almost looked like it was beginning to blister. Julianna then stood up at once and wordlessly held out her hand, instructing me to take it. I did as I was told, wincing slightly at the temperature of her palm which seemed far hotter than could have been healthy for anyone's body.

Hand in hand, Julianna led me out towards the wooden gate at the far end of the white marble balustrade we had been sitting on. The back garden of the frat house that had hosted the party led out directly into a series of open fields, which seemed to be where we were going. I was once again unnerved by how frighteningly tall she was, and how much stronger she seemed to be than me, in spite of her slender build. I gulped as I watched her shapely hips and firm buttocks swerve elegantly as she walked ahead of me. Her strides were long and fast and betrayed little of the cumbersome weight she carried on her chest. I tried my best to keep up, but found myself at all times lagging several steps behind.

Though my mind was awash with anxiety and fear, a submerged part of my reptilian brain still roiled with excitement. I couldn’t quite believe that I was holding hands with her after all the time I had spent imagining it. And she wanted me, although for what exactly, I was still unsure of. My emotions were conflicted. As happy as I was to be led away from the party by Julianna in that moment, I couldn’t shake the idea that it was because she meant to harm me in some way.

Following the dirt path down the hill, we found ourselves at a final stone wall. She instructed me to mount it after her and we dropped down into a dark field filled with ankle-length grass. Now with the frat house far off in the distance behind a thicket of pine trees, it was a struggle to see even a few feet in front of me. The field was illuminated only by shreds of moonlight piercing through cracks in the clouds overhead.

“Seriously, can you please just explain what it is we’re doing out here?” I called up to her, “I’m getting pretty freaked out now.”

“I just want to get to know you better. Really take you all in.” She called back, tugging my hand towards her even harder, “I got the feeling that the lack of privacy back there was inhibiting you.”

I yanked my hand free from her grip, instinctively shaking it so as to dispel the pain from where her intense heat had scalded me. Sensing me release, Julianna whipped around and stared down at me with an expression of mock surprise.

“Well fine. I guess here will do,” she announced.

Despite the fact it was almost pitch black, I was somehow still able to see all of her body in surprising detail. I could follow the outline of her curvaceous figure, identify the stars that speckled her dress. Even her skin seemed to glow in the dark, as if illuminated from somewhere deep beneath the flesh. I gazed up towards her face and her eyes like immaculate sapphires were shining down on me, reflecting an unidentified source of light. It was all too much to take. I felt the frustration building within me again.

“Just tell me what you want,” I cried out, “Everything about you is so fucking confusing. I’ve confessed about that stupid crush I had on you, but what crime is that really? I never did anything. I just left you be. If you’re torturing me just for that, then I don’t think it is really all that fair.”

Julianna sighed and smiled. “I’m not intending to torture you, Carlos. You’re doing that to yourself. All I’ve done is ask you questions.”

I looked away in desperation, but the woman quickly grabbed my jaw in her hand and forced me to stare into her eyes again.

“Now, why don’t you touch my breasts?”

I heard myself scream internally. Unable to even react at first, I paused to replay what I had just heard. But as the silent seconds dragged on it just seemed ever more like a transient aberration of my mind. Then she repeated it.

“Carlos. Touch my breasts. Come on, just do it.” She said again, more forcefully this time, before grabbing my wrists without warning and pressing my open hands into her awaiting chest.

All possible doubts as to the realness of Julianna’s breasts were dispelled in instant by the impossible softness I felt under my hands. They were so soft that it made their simultaneous shapeliness appear to defy physics. Yet they were obviously monumentally heavy too, and nor could I understand how she was able to hold them up when supported only by that thin dress. I allowed her to continue forcing me into groping her for a while, but she eventually released her hands and permitted me to play on my own. I had long since chosen to ignore the erection that had appeared in my pants, as I was too enraptured by the moment. The one thing I was clear on was that there was unlikely to be another opportunity like this.

While I continued to fondle Julianna’s breasts over her dress I began to notice that her body had become even more visible through the darkness. The dim glow that I thought I had seen emanating from her skin before seemed to grow brighter. After a few minutes spent squeezing her chest, it was unmistakable—her entire body was glowing now, lighting up a few-feet’s radius of the grass around us. When looking directly at her skin the light seemed constant, like the Sun seen through thick clouds, but when looking away and out at our surroundings, the light darted and rippled, as if refracting off the surface of a pond. I looked up at her and noticed that this light was pouring out of every section of bare skin, not just her arms and shoulders. Even her face, neck and breasts were glowing, with only the dress and her hair silhouetted against the light.

“Julianna. What the hell is going on!” I blurted out. “Am I just completely wasted, or is this real…? Y-you look like you’re glowing or something.” I made to release my hands from her breasts but she grabbed my wrists once again and forced me to press them into her even harder.

“Don’t worry. Just something my body does. Now tell me what you feel. How do you like them?”

“What do you mean? You mean your boobs? I don't know what you want me to say. I mean, they’re amazing, yes… but I-I’m more concerned about what is happening to you. Can you explain something to me for once, please!?”

Julianna breathed in deeply, arching her back as if she was absorbing something from the atmosphere. She pushed out her breasts further in my direction and I found myself clenching down on them harder, grabbing and squeezing sections of soft flesh at random. Despite not being able to even grab a decent amount of them in my palms at any one time, I did my best to give their entire volume my attention.

“All in good time.” She said finally. “Now do as I ask. Tell me what you feel. What do you think about them?”

I still couldn’t understand what she wanted out of me, but as her tone was darkening somewhat, I saw it best to try at least.

“I… I love them. They’re so big. So huge, I can’t believe they’re even real.”

“Good. More.” Julianna replied, a slight breathlessness coming over her previously calm demeanour. Her eyes were now closed.

“I’ve wanted to touch these for so long. I’ve thought about them every night, thought about you. How beautiful you are. How unbelievable you look, all the time. I never in my dreams imagined I would actually get to…”

“Go on.” She continued, now talking only in between sharp gasps of air. “Tell me more. What do you think about me?”

She was panting now, as if my mere words were causing exertion in her in some way.

“I don’t even know what to think. I can’t understand it. No one can. How you are this perfect? So beautiful, so tall, so smart. You’re like a woman from another planet. How is any of this possible? And your tits… Oh my god.”

I pressed my fingers in further.

“More.” She yelled, throwing her head backwards.

“I-I don’t know what you want!”

“Do you masturbate to the thought of me?”

“Yes! Of course, I do! You’re incredible, Julianna. A goddess. You might be the most amazing woman in the entire world.”

“Ughhhhh” she cried out with a deafening wail. The light from her body shone so brightly that I had to cover my eyes.

After concluding a long, visceral moan, Julianna finally threw her head forward again and looked down at me from above. My hands were on autopilot now, just continuing to vigorously play with her enormous soft masses, occasionally reaching down into her dress to get closer to them. She paused to inspect the way I was attempting to jiggle and toss them around in my hands, and briefly joined me to squeeze other parts of the flesh in between her own fingers.

Apparently satisfied with my attempt, she then crouched down so that her face was at a level with mine. Her skin was now gleaming so brightly that she looked more like a being made of pure light than a human woman. Her eyes had changed colours once again but were no longer even recognisable as such—her irises transformed into two iridescent portals of pure colour that changed from green to magenta to red and then blue with every blink. Although throughout all of this I had continued to fondle her breasts in an unmistakably sexual manner, she had yet to touch me in any way that could have been interpreted as anything remotely intimate. I still couldn’t understand what her game was here, but it was obviously far too late to ask questions. I was no longer even sure I knew what this woman was.

“Are you scared, Carlos?” She asked calmly.

“No.” I replied, “I mean. Sort of. I’m also very turned on. It’s a confusing feeling.”

“Good. Do you want to have sex with me then?”

“Yes,” I replied straightforwardly, not leaving even a second’s pause for any stupid rational thoughts to catch up.

Thinking that I finally knew what it was that she wanted, I instinctively stepped forward to kiss her on mouth which was only inches away from my own. But before I could reach her she brought up one glowing finger, and placed it gently over my lips, stopping me in my tracks. It was scorching hot against my skin, and far larger than I expected it to be.

“No. Tell me.” She spoke in a half-whisper.

“Tell you what?”

“What you want to do to me.”

I tried to muster some kind of thoughtful response but ended up just letting the words fall out as they came to me.

“I… I don’t know… I want to fuck you so bad. I’ve wanted nothing more than that for years. Even just to touch you. Kiss you perhaps. God, I just want to touch all of that incredible body of yours. I want to make love to you.”

“Love? Really? Doesn’t sound like love, Carlos.” She boomed all of a sudden, her voice rising in volume and lowering in pitch in an instant.

Julianna then began to stand up again. As she did, her bosom escaped from my grip and rose up far above my head and out of my reach. Only then did I realise that the breasts I had been trying my best to play with in my hands were much, much larger than the ones I remembered grabbing a hold of. In fact, it seemed all of Julianna had grown in size while she had been crouching and I had failed to notice it. When she straightened her back and erected herself to her full height again my eyes were drawn upwards to the sky, only stopping when her head came to a rest a good several feet above the height she once was. I stepped back and swallowed sharply. The woman was now in excess of eight or perhaps nine feet tall—her stomach level with my eyes. Her breasts were also substantially larger, even in comparison to her new stature, and looming just above my head. All while this was happening her body continued to exude its unnatural glow, which due to her new immense size was now bathing the field around us in an undulating light show of multicoloured beams.

“Julianna!” I cried out. “What the fuck is happening right now!? What is this? You’re not human, are you?”

The woman laughed deeply, her voice even more sonorous than before, it reverberated through the ground and up into my bones.

“Sort of. I’m a Siren, Carlos.”

“What the hell is that?” I yelled, shaking my head in disbelief, “You mean… Like a real Siren? From mythology, or whatever? That sailors find at sea?”

“Are we at sea?”

“No, but… come on, you know what I mean.”

Julianna chuckled “Yes. A bit like that.”

“But what does that even mean? This isn’t real, right? I don’t understand. Why are you so big all of a sudden? And why are you glowing like that? I feel like I’m about to go blind if I keep looking at you any longer.”

“Oh you’ll be worse than blind if you do, I’m afraid.”

Without waiting for a reply, Julianna inhaled deeply and leant backwards as far as she could, eventually crashing to the ground on her back. Though she shook the Earth around me as she landed, the grass caught her fall somehow—the short tendrils experiencing a rush of explosive growth, enough to craft a tangled nest in time for her to lie back in. Once she had come to a rest she propped herself upright, with her legs splayed open, inviting me in. Her dress, that at first had seemed to grow alongside her, was now gradually dissolving into her skin, revealing her entire body naked before me. All I saw now was an awaiting vulva watching me ominously up ahead.

Lying back on her low grassy throne in front of me, and with her feet placed flat on the ground, I could tell she had grown even further. I walked towards her cautiously, finding myself no taller than her knee now. From around one side of her legs I could also see that her breasts had also continued to outpace both the rest of her body and had now tumbled off her body. They gathered up into two heavy heaps each resting half in her lap, and half on the ground either side of her.

“Tell me what is going on!” I shouted, tugging at my hair, more out of fear than anything else, “I really feel like I’m losing it here!”

Julianna began to laugh once again and with each successive intake of breath, more beams of intense light shone out from different parts of her nude body. I could see all around her that the once lifeless grass was bursting with new growth—tiny multicoloured flowers dotted the ground at her feet and large leafy ferns were bursting forth from the perimeter where her breasts met the ground.

“It’s you, Carlos.” Julianna began, "This is all because of you. Because of your lust. I feed on it. It gives me my power. The way you people lust over me from a distance is usually enough to sustain me most days, but sometimes I just want to take it all the way with someone like you. Really drink it in. You can see what it does to me. This feels as good as it looks. Honestly, I’ve never managed to get this big before. You must really want me.”

“What do you want with me though? Please, whatever it is I’ll do it. Just don’t hurt me.”

“Don’t you listen?” Julianna boomed, leaning forward so she could look at me closer, standing meekly between her legs. “It’s not about what I want. It’s what you want. Every lustful thought you have about me just makes me bigger and stronger. And I want more. I want you to submit to your desires, Carlos. To feed me… Now, I could continue to ask you what those are, but I see there’s no point. I know how much you want me.”

Without waiting for my permission Julianna reached down and wrapped one giant glowing hand around my body. I watched my clothes turn to cinders and disintegrate away from my body due to the scorching heat radiating from her hand. Although my clothes were gone in seconds, she seemed to be able to stop herself from burning my skin if she so desired, and I was left unharmed, this time.

The next thing I felt was being lowered down towards her naked figure, my body now only half the length of her torso. She placed me in between her breasts, which had swollen to sizes exceeding double-decker buses. Even though they now spilled out across the ground on either side of her, they were so large that they comfortably engulfed most of her chest and even her lap as well. Once I was safely lying on her stomach, nestled in between the tops of her breasts, she then used her arms to compress more of them down around me. I felt myself be entirely submerged, surrounded on all sides by soft walls. But despite having been swallowed up into this fleshy prison, I could still see everything around me as clear as day, the little available space illuminated like the inside of a bulb from the light pouring out of every inch of her skin.

I squinted through the blinding light. Up close, her flesh was unlike any human’s—she had no freckles, hairs, or even veins to speak of. But when I really inspected it, I noticed that it was not completely featureless. There were blurry pockets of colour moving and shifting around a few centimetres underneath her skin. Emeralds, blues, and golds, all twisted and distorted in formless overlapping shapes, never staying still. I did not get to admire the colours for long though because I soon felt the Siren clench her flesh down around me tighter still, her giant breasts squeezing the air from my lungs as they encroached. Just as my life felt about to be squeezed from my body, they receded, only to return once more a few seconds later. In and out, she compressed and released her breasts around my feeble frame, and I felt a little more of my soul escape my body with every successive pulsation.

By the time they finally receded enough to allow me to look down at my naked and bruised body, I could see I was already in the process of ejaculating. My cum spurted out like a dart and struck some nameless section of nearby boobflesh. As the tiny white splatter landed, it caused bolts of lighting to spark out of her skin and wrap both me and the Siren in spindles of electricity. I felt my entire body shudder, causing me to lose my balance and fall backwards out of her cleavage. l landed with a thump on her hard stomach. The vast entities that were Julianna’s breasts parted and revealed her smiling face once again. It shone down on me brightly, like the full moon rising between two gleaming mountains.

From all of the light bursting from Julianna’s giant body, I could only imagine the scene this must have been creating around us. But looking across the field from my elevated position, it seemed as tranquil as when we had arrived. Julianna leant forwards again so she could look at me up close, lying naked and shrivelled on her stomach like a discarded rag. I was unable to keep track of her growth, but she seemed to have become even larger than when she first picked me up.

I tried to gauge her emotion, her face was somehow both exactly the same yet even more beautiful and impossible to read due to its cosmic size. Locks of black and turquoise hair were flailing wildly all around her head as if submerged underwater. Occasionally more bolts of lightning would spark up in random places, and sparkle across parts of her face and hair. Her eyes were now spinning kaleidoscopes. Thousands of colours spiralled around her irises, many of which I couldn’t name like interlopers from beyond the visible spectrum. Her eyes beamed even more brightly than her body and caused complicated patterns of light to flicker across her body and mine. Yet besides all this terrifying splendour, the Siren’s aura was somehow matriarchal in a way that assuaged all fear I might have had.

The enormity and incomprehensible beauty of the creature I was lying on made her impossible to resist. The only thought going through my mind was a desire to submit to her. To make love to her. To give her everything I had. I had to find a way to do it, somehow. I knew that was what I wanted, it was what I had always wanted. But ironically it was now more unattainable than it had ever been.

Seeing there were very few options available to me, I simply began to kiss her. I lay down on my front and I kissed whatever parts of the Siren’s skin I could reach. Her flesh had an intense and sweet-smelling aroma. It tasted in a way like every fruit I had ever tried all mixed into one. Yet when I touched her with my tongue, her body gave me a sharp numbing shock as if to punish me for the transgression. But still, I kissed her. Over and over again. With every successive kiss, I felt like I was leaving more of myself behind. Each time it became harder to wrench my lips from her skin again. It was like her body contained a vacuum that meant to suck my very essence inside of it through porous skin. I tried to call out to tell her how much I loved her, but the noise that left my mouth was nothing more than a rasping death rattle.

After only a few kisses I was already exhausted. All my energy and will had evaporated away, slipped like water through my fingers. Though in its place was a new feeling. I sensed myself being called elsewhere. So struggling onwards with what little remained of my strength, I turned myself 180 degrees around and crawled down her stomach towards her open legs. I could still hear her laughing in the background but time itself felt as if it had slowed. Her voice caused the surface on which I was lying to lurch up and down, but I clung on as best I could. Julianna had grown so much now that even her navel took several successive heaves of my body to reach. But I knew where to go. At last, I knew what I wanted. And I was going to take it.

Finally, I reached the edge, I crawled on my hands and knees through the foliage that had sprouted up all around her crotch. Dense patches of grass and broad-leafed plants were bursting from her skin in place of pubic hair, and growing ever larger before my eyes. There were even some blooming orchids exuding their pleasant perfume, as well as vines that crept off of the edge of her body and dangled down into the emptiness beyond. I knew what lay there. I could hear it even as I came, but could only now see it as I neared the edge. Between her legs, a powerful waterfall had emerged. A rush of water coursed out her body from a source unseen and cascaded to the ground, 15 feet below me. It kicked up a cold spray into my face, and an impressive rainbow formed when the vapour caught the eery light that burst out of the Siren’s skin. With my destination in sight, I knew that what energy remained within me might be enough to fulfil my final desire, but little else.

I tested the rushing water with my hand at first. The current was so strong that there was a chance I would not be able to fight it back, but the water felt cool and inviting. The oppressive heat coming from the giantess had caused a thick layer of sweat to form all over my body, so I was desperate for refreshment. I took one last look back at the Siren’s face and swallowed my fear. With a final sharp intake of air, I slipped off the edge. I pushed back the torrent of water roaring from her vulva, forcing my body into the source.

I fell in, and the world dissolved away. I felt myself freed at last. No pain, no anxiety. Nothing. An eternal black void with only the last rays of light from the Siren’s body reflecting off of the interior of my eyes. But then they faded too. After a while, the only sensation I could hold on to was the sound of Julianna’s voice—unintelligible cries echoing in what remained of my ears.

-

When I finally awoke I felt very different. I tried to determine if I had been hurt during the hallucination I had suffered last night, but surprisingly I felt fine. Good—energised, even. But as I lay there staring upwards at the cloudless morning sky, I realised that I could not feel anything at all. I was unable to move.

Only a few minutes later did my vision change. I sensed my eyes blink involuntarily, followed by the sensation of being pulled upright by something. I was sitting in the centre of a vast pasture, lined on all sides by dense palisades of pine trees. Only a low stone wall broke the line of the trees at one side, with a small dirt path leading up a hill towards a house behind it. The field all around me was half-flooded with water, and the grass flattened to the point of unrecognisability, as if something vast and colossally heavy had crushed it back into the Earth.

I tried to use my arms to feel around my environment, but soon realised I could not. In fact, I could not even confirm that my arms, or my body, existed. Everything that was happening seemed out of my control. But just then, I sensed myself be lifted up into a standing position. My eye level rose up from the ground and when it reached its peak, a long and satisfied sigh erupted from my mouth. The voice that I heard was not my own. It was a woman’s.

Then, my head tipped forward, and what I saw nearly made me want to cry out in horror. Instead of my familiar pudgy male body, all I could see were two enormous breasts attached to my chest. They were terrifying in size, compressed to the point of suffocation inside a tight dress that was patterned with purple nebulae and stars. I could see to my left and right that locks of black and turquoise hair were falling across my shoulders and collar bone, but the breasts were so huge that I could not see any of my body beyond them.

The entire world then began to somersault. I felt myself tip forwards, but just before I crashed head first into the ground I stopped. My hands then emerged in front of me. On their own accord, they grabbed a pair of large black stilettos that were stuck half-embedded in the sodden ground. My hands inspected the shoes for while, compared them against my feet, and then eventually tossed them aside when it was clear they were several sizes too small.

I realised then that some feeling was returning to my body, only it was nothing I recognised. I felt keenly the annoying way that the masses of boob restricted my ability to fully bend down to get the shoes. I then felt their immense weight pull on my back when I stood up again. Yet, somehow, I managed it. Despite the incredible size of the two giant sacks of flesh that I was now forced to carry in front of me, I was stable. I then felt myself begin to walk forward, swinging my slender arms to and fro casually, as if the poorly distributed weight of my body was something I knew instinctively how to manoeuvre. My alarming lack of autonomy over my actions aside, I felt comfortable. This foreign body I was in was certainly much too large, but it actually felt surprisingly light. And strong. I felt stronger, in fact, than I could ever remember being.

I was in motion now. My body walked forward against my will, with my head glancing around to check its surroundings. Someone was using my hands for me, using them to touch various parts of my body. They squished the sides of my boobs together and then tugged at my dress to ensure what little of my body it was able to conceal was still doing the job.

I then reached the far edge of the field. My long legs stepped over the high stone wall with ease, but I then ran into more trouble with the low branches that dangled over the path leading up the hill. Finally, I reached the familiar marble balustrade of the frat house, and I stepped through the gate. The garden was a mess—red cups, empty bottles, and various other pieces of unidentifiable trash were strewn all over the place. The surface of the swimming pool was peppered with items of discarded clothing too. The only soul in sight was a shirtless man still passed out on one of the deck chairs.

I could hear voices coming from inside the house, so I walked toward them. Reaching the half-open French windows, I felt myself step through. My body seemed too large for the doorway though, meaning it was forced to bend over to fit inside. Once again I sensed the colossal weight of my chest pull down on my back, but my legs and back held strong enough to take it.

Inside was a similar state of ruin. More boys lying unconscious on sofas, and some on the floor as well. Two of them were awake but looked especially haggard. They had lit up a joint and were passing it slowly between them. I watched them as their sunken eyes followed me walking in a stooped configuration across the room. In that instant, I suddenly felt a foreign but powerful aura of warmth and pleasure enter my body from their direction. I wanted to double over from the intensity of the sensation but my body kept walking forward regardless. The feeling was frightening in its unfamiliarity at first, but unquestionably pleasurable—like a glorious, satiating nectar was being beamed invisibly through the air and then absorbed through every pore of my awaiting body. I felt my lungs inflate slowly to take it in. “Was she always that tall?” One of the boys said. “Jesus, her jugs look massive today,” said the other. Somehow I could hear them from across the room, and without them needing to open their mouths.

My body craned itself through the living room door and out into a spacious hallway that I was able to stand upright in. A few sorority girls were preening themselves in the mirror beside the front door, attempting to smear the previous night’s makeup into something presentable. I felt myself approach them from behind and look into the mirror. The face of Julianna stared back at me. Her stunning visage—with its usual implacable expression, impossible to read—was where my reflection should have been. Unlike the girls down below me, somehow all of her makeup was as immaculately applied as the night prior. Her shimmering black and turquoise hair fell down in perfect clean strands across her shoulders whereas theirs was matted and dirty.

Julianna and I looked down at the girls for a moment in unison, but quickly returned to the reflection when we realised they were invisible beneath the canopy of her chest. The three girls were so short that Julianna’s ginormous bosom came close to scraping the tops of their heads, a fact they were all clearly aware of. The girls shifted around uncomfortably to try and pull away from the imposing female body that towered over them. “Fuck, I forgot how huge this bitch was,” one of them said wordlessly as she averted her eyes from the mirror. I tried, but wasn’t able to receive the same nourishing warmth from her that I had from the boys. Only one of the girls in the group gave me that sensation—the one whose gaze remained transfixed on my breasts. “Oh God, just let me touch you. Please. Just once.” she thought.

Out in the street, I found myself in a state of peacefulness as I had never experienced before. Though I was no longer in control of my actions, just a mute and inert observer of everything that was happening to me, I was nevertheless fully experiencing every thought, feeling and sensation passing through my host like they were my own. I felt the Siren’s pleasure and elation as she strode confidently down the road. The cool morning breeze on our skin, the hard pavement under our bare feet. I could feel the tight dress constricting our body and digging into the flesh, but it was not unpleasant—it only reminded me of its majestic size. Most of all though I felt at ease. My mind could think thoughts with a clarity and precision that I hadn’t imagined possible. Unclouded by worries, anxieties, or confusion, everything made sense. The inner workings of the world were apparent—obvious, even.

Soon, I found myself on a busy suburban road—the campus, and my dormitory lay off towards the far end, and all alongside me were students leaving their houses and apartments to take the same early-morning journey. They were all so small, I thought. Even the basketball players walking along in their sneakers and athletic gear were two heads shorter than I. It seemed to upset them when they saw me.

I could hear various students talking silently behind my back. Wondering why I was still in my dress at this time in the morning, if I was taking the walk of shame. They wondered how tall I was, or if I had always been this tall. Some boys would think nasty, venomous thoughts about all the things they would do to my body if they got the chance. Images of my naked breasts flickered through their mind’s eyes, occasionally with their stunted penises being swallowed up inside my cleavage. They imagined the noises I might make if I allowed them to penetrate me. If, despite my strength and stature, I might submit to them like any other girl. Oddly enough, these were the thoughts I loved the most. The sicker they were, or the more pitiful the thinker, the more excited they made me feel. That strange nourishing sensation returned every time. It filled me with some dark emotion I was unable to pinpoint exactly—activating a sense I could not name.

As I walked towards the campus I made sure to look down at all the boys having those thoughts about me. I ignored them for the most part—I was content enough to bask in the despicable things that went through their minds as they watched me stride quickly past and overtake them. But every so often, I would catch the attention of a different sort of boy, one whose desires lay buried deeper. With those boys, I would slow slightly, enough time to look down and offer a sultry flutter of my eyelids, before walking on, my hair blowing in the wind behind me.

Art by WinterWarning at DeviantArt. Read the rest of my stories at my page. I'm just experimenting posting on here to see if there is an audience. Definitely not a fan of using this interface to post long text, but I want to find other places than DA for posting my work.

[kitkatopinions]

I don't think the "ironwood was always a horrible evil dictator" crowd get that if he was then their beloved winter is literally complicit in being second in command to a cruel dictator in a fascist state but alas we all know oppressive systems are always only held up by Just One Guy, and if we just get rid of That Guy then everyone else will trust love 💕

Yep yep yep. For the sake of the argument, assuming that Ironwood was always a horrible evil dictator, Winter looks way worse than Team RWBY and co, especially because the line for what they couldn't take for them was - according to some anti-rwdes - 'abandoning thousands of poor people to die out of nothing but cowardice and classism' after they worked with him despite being a dictator crushing Mantle beneath his heel, but for Winter the line for what she couldn't take was Ironwood saying he wished he could've tortured children and threatening to bomb civilians or something, and not literally murdering anybody who said anything against him.

There are excuses for her that anti-rwde people sometimes make (that don't exist for Team RWBY and co) like 'she was groomed' and 'she was brainwashed.' But like, first of all, I think that's hard for me to believe because Winter was a very certain stubborn kickass woman who had created her own way out of an abusive situation and rose through the ranks on her own merit before the majority male writers were like 'actually what if she was a sad girl who had never done anything herself and had her actions puppeteered by a man,' and second of all... Because there's only so much excusing you can do if the thing you're trying to excuse is 'working for a dictator,' especially one that was clearly and obviously a dictator like some anti-rwdes think.

Again, I don't believe that Winter was working for a dictator until volume eight, and the whole villain arc was so rushed and badly done that I struggle to blame her as a character for it - what I actually blame her for isn't part of the conversation atm lol. But yeah, since I don't think Ironwood was a clear and obvious dictator or bad guy until shooting Oscar, I don't blame Winter for working with and for him. But for the sake of the argument, pretending that he was, there's only so much Winter can get away with under the excuse that she was brainwashed. Like, I think Kylo Ren was brainwashed too, but that doesn't mean that his actions are suddenly easily brushed aside and don't matter at all. I think Azula was brainwashed and controlled by her evil father, but that doesn't mean that she wasn't a villain who did terrible things who needed to be held at least partially accountable for her actions, and she's fourteen unlike the grown adult Winter. I think Emerald and Mercury were brainwashed and groomed by Cinder, probably, but I still think they're responsible for doing things like murdering people, and any redemption for them shouldn't be as easy as 'I'm a good guy now' 'oh really?' 'yeah,' 'cool we'll trust you and laugh alongside you and now you're part of the group and we can exchange fond looks.' Like...? So if Ironwood was really always a clear and obvious dictator, Winter is just... Completely forgiven easily? With no preamble? With no one treating her with suspicion? And while we're at it, the Ace Ops? Same category as Winter as far as I'm concerned. And Qrow and Team RWBYJNOR and Ozpin and even Pyrrha and Glynda who worked with Ironwood in the third season while he was 'strongarming Vale' and 'betrayed Ozpin' and took over as head of security for an event which was 'definitely a sure sign of him being a bad dictator' ...all of them at least fucked up and did bad for working with and having no real problem with a dictator from season two to the eleventh hour of volume seven.

It's like you said, if Ironwood really was a dictator in a fascist state, then the message the show seems to be sending is 'there is only one bad guy in charge who must be taken out, everyone else is fine.' It'd be like if Snoke had died in Star Wars the Last Jedi and then everyone in the Empire was just like "Well we're all friends and we're all good and we're all fine now that Snoke is dead,' and former high ranking First Order officers and the Knights of Ren were invited into the resistance happily with nobody really questioning their morals or trying to hold them accountable. Except it'd be like that plus if Rey, Finn, Poe, and Rose had all actually been working for the First Order for two months and only started having problems when Snoke was like 'maybe let's destroy a planet,' and then they were like 'well we've done nothing wrong, we don't have to examine our own morals either.'

Again, I don't believe any of these people were willingly and happily working with and for a dictator for two months (or in Winter's case, years,) but the logic of some anti-rwdes just doesn't make anyone they like actually look good and it feels like they just ignore that because they want to have their cake (Ironwood was always a clearly bad dictator) and eat it too (the characters they like didn't do anything wrong.)

[faeymouse]

Hey, a fellow Tron fan in 2023?!

I'm glad my favorite childhood franchise is getting some love. Tron Legacy actually got me into programming and computer science as a kid, and all these years late, I'm still programming! Granted, there are a lot less light cycles and disc battles in C++ and Python than I had hoped for...

I know a lot of Tron fans are not extremely happy about the current state of a third movie, but I wanted to ask you: What would a perfect Tron sequel be like in your mind?

What characters from any part of the franchise should make a return, what kinds of new ones would you want introduced, and who would be a good hero/villain?

Assuming the grid ran on early 90s hardware and that a modern PC is thousands of times faster, do you think modern tech like the Internet should be addressed, or should the story take place in a closed-off system?

Would you want the visuals to be like Tron 1, Tron Legacy, a mix of the two, or something entirely unique?

What kinds of new light vehicles or weapons could they introduce?

And finally, should Bit make a return?

I'm sorry that my question has like 20 sub-questions, but anyway, I just wanted to say thanks for all the art and stuff you share. It's nice to look back at Tron and how it changed my life, so thanks!

Hell yes, and hello! I’m glad to have the chance to help give it some love, and to meet all the awesome, dedicated people in this fandom that make it all the more fun to enjoy. I love hearing stories like your’s; it’s such a nice reminder of the impact fandom and media can have on someone.

Thank you for your nice words about my art and stuff. The Tron fandom has been so welcoming and so inspirational, I’ve been having a blast creating stuff for it! Also, I love getting asked questions. Especially lots of questions. Thanks so much for this! I’ll go one by one under a read more:

What would a perfect Tron sequel be like in your mind?

One that incorporates Tron, for one. You can’t have a Tron movie with Tron. They can do whatever else they want, but a sequel can’t be perfect unless Tron’s there. Played by Bruce Boxleitner. He’s like the James Earl Jones of this franchise: he plays the character and no one else. 

That being said… would a continuation of Uprising be too much of a cop out? Don’t get me wrong, I’d like a legit expansion like Identity, but I’d also like for the stories we already have to come to their full conclusion. Sure, Uprising is a prequel, but it has just enough unanswered questions that it feels like an open wound. 

What characters from any part of the franchise should make a return, what kinds of new ones would you want introduced, and who would be a good hero/villain?

Kinda sorta already answered this one in the previous question, but I can keep the thoughts going! I’ll repeat Tron again because leaving him out would probably be the one thing that could possibly make me dislike Ares enough not to go see it. I’d also love for it to get the Star Wars treatment and bring some of the animated characters to the big screen. Beck? Dyson? Cyrus? Mara? How about just everyone from Uprising? I’d also love to see Yori again, or at least find out definitively what happened to her. OH AND ALAN. And I’d love to see what Sam and Quorra are up to (and if the movie will go for the low-hanging fruit and make a rollercoaster joke). Also, as far as returners go, I’d love to see Flynn again. I know he “died,” but it just won’t feel the same without him. Maybe he’s literally become part of the Grid and comes back as a big MCP-looking face. 

That being said, one of the points that got me particularly excited for Ares was the inclusion of a female human main character. The description lists her as: 

Eve- Female lead, Asian, 30-40. Human lead of the story. A tech genius, focused and full of Open heart, analytical and observant. One of the worlds best programmers. Reclusive, anti social, the way she connects with Ares isn’t romantic but sympathetic connection. Someone who has an attractiveness

I think the Tron movies are due for a non-Flynn to take the lead, and I think done right Eve could be a fantastic successor. I appreciate that she’s not a teenager or in her 20s, that she’s still described as attractive, and that she’s being set up to not be in a romance with Ares. ALSO UM… CHECK OUT THIS DESCRIPTION FOR ANOTHER CHARACTER:

Athena: Female lead, 30-50. Imposing, cold and officious, driven solely by an innate urge. Open to fulfll any directive she’s given without question, Athena is a member of an elite special forces unit and second in command. When Athena senses her superior has strayed from their assignment, she reports him without hesitation and quickly assumes his leadership role, intent on destroying him and fulfiling the directive at all costs. With incredible power and the inability to fear or doubt, Athena is a nearly unstoppable force, and a tragic figure. This role requires significant physicality, fight skills area plus…

Already shipping Eve and Athena, ngl. You can’t hand me a reclusive genius and a battle-hardened bitch and expect to not immediately want to see them bring out the best in each other. Calling it now, they’re gonna be the power couple of the Tron Ares fandom.

Last but not least, who would make a good hero/villain? Eve sounds like my perfect protagonist, so let her be the hero. As for the villain, it seems like it’s gonna be Dillinger Jr. which means it’ll probably be some form of the MCP, which… mmmmmm. Again, if they do it well I’ll be ecstatic, but it could easily turn into a “Somehow, Palpatine has returned” situation so I’ll tentatively say, sure, Dillinger and the MCP can be good villains, but on god make it interesting and worth it.

Assuming the grid ran on early 90s hardware and that a modern PC is thousands of times faster, do you think modern tech like the Internet should be addressed, or should the story take place in a closed-off system?

I think that instead of addressing the Internet, they should address the possibility of separate Grids being able to communicate and interact with one another. That’s two birds with one stone: it’s a nod to changing times, but it’s also just distant enough to keep it feeling like a different world.

Would you want the visuals to be like Tron 1, Tron Legacy, a mix of the two, or something entirely unique?

Tron Legacy, but I hope they go back to the greyscale skin. Blame that hope entirely on Uprising combining Legacy and 1982 aesthetics perfectly. I want it recreated!

What kinds of new light vehicles or weapons could they introduce?

I’d love to see a car, like the one they have in that one episode of Uprising. Some sort of skateboard-type vehicle might be cool, especially if it can go in the air. Other than that, I’m happy if they just stick with some cool light cycles. You can’t go wrong with them.

As for weapons, I’d love for them to – again – take a clue from Uprising and grab some weapons from there, like the lightstaffs or Dyson’s disk-on-a-string or Tesler’s glowing fists of death. I also wouldn’t say no to cool glowing claws! They could give them to Athena!

And finally, should Bit make a return?

110% definitely. Yes. It should even be revealed that Bit rescued Tron from the Sea of Simulation. They should release Bit plushies. I want animated shorts that are just focused on Bit. I need him to get the BB8 Grogu treatment asap.

[olderthannetfic]

I'm by no means a BNF but I am one of the most prolific authors in a very niche corner of my (apparently, as I've recently come to accept) small fandom. Like many, I keep a separate blog for just this one fandom, where people who read my works on fanfic sites can find me and chat if they're so inclined, and where I reblog prompts and games and fandom-related works and stuff.

Recently I've cut ties with a group of people who were getting way too toxic for my taste. It may not be a surprise when I say throughout my time with them I realized I was proship and they're staunchly, and ignorantly, and absolutely anti (they think a two-year age gap between two adults is pedophilia. which is certainly A Take:tm:). For my own mental health I had to leave, and I don't regret it. The only thing I mourned was the loss of camaraderie, but it had to be done. Any attempts on my end to help them be less insufferable would consistently be drowned out, or they'd humor me for a few days and go right back to being little shits like I hadn't said anything at all. And now that I think about it, I don't think they ever actually respected me. I think they just liked what I had to offer (ideas, content, and more often than not, an ear), though it definitely didn't help I felt like I needed to be the person who looked after everyone.

I stopped posting and even now I'm hesitant to post things because I know some of them still follow me and I don't want them to see I'm active again. As far as they know, I disappeared off the face of the earth forever. I blocked half of them because they keep posting negative things in places they shouldn't, with tags obvs, and the other half hasn't done anything worth blocking over (unless you count them actively being friends with the toxic ones as a reason) and I don't want to punish them for the actions of a very vocal few.

2 days ago I posted a silly little story for a Tumblr friend (a drabble exchange) and almost immediately I got an anon in my inbox from who I'm assuming is the ringleader (they used my old handle from the chat which let me know it's one of them) and I just. Deleted it. I know they don't even follow my Tumblr anymore because they've had several separate sequential accounts and they stick to one URL (with slight variations of course). I've blocked the first few and I know what the last one is, and they haven't tried to follow me yet. Surely this means they're aware it won't bode well.

As much as I want to post things again, I'm anxious as fuck and I'm tired of seeing them around. I wish they'd take the hint already so I don't have to tell them (and subsequently all the rest of the group) to fuck off and leave me be. Antis really are a cult, and I'm not keen on interacting with them if I can help it. They can say they've changed until they're blue in the face, but in terms of this group, I won't believe them until they quite literally grow up.

--

[semper-legens]

189. Salt to the Sea, by Ruta Sepetys

Owned: No, library Page count: 378 My summary: Emilia. Florian. Joana. Alfred. Four young people from different lands, all thrown together in the chaos of the Second World War. East Prussia is being evacuated. Desperate people are fleeing the country to the ships promised to take them far away. But disaster is lurking on the horizon. When it's every person for themselves, who will live and who will die? My rating: 3/5 My commentary:

I thought I'd never read this book before. And yet, when I got about 50 pages in, it started to seem familiar - strangely familiar. I've read a couple of Ruta Sepetys' books before, namely I Must Betray You and Out of the Easy, which I haven't covered here. The former I didn't like, the latter I actually enjoyed. This is one of her earlier works, though not the earliest - it's apparently something of a sequel to a book called Between Shades of Gray, which I'm 90% sure that I haven't read. To its credit, I don't think not having read the earlier book hampered my engagement with this one. But less charitably…I wasn't all too keen on this one, it has to be said. While it wasn't bad in and of itself, I found it to be sensationalist and simplistic, and overall didn't quite live up to my expectations.

This story is about the Wilhelm Gustoff, a ship that was meant to be evacuating refugees from East Prussia during World War Two, but was sunk by Russian torpedoes, killing roughly nine thousand of the ten thousand people aboard. The story follows four teenagers - pregnant Polish girl Emilia, Lithuanian nurse Joana, Prussian boy Florian, and Nazi recruit Alfred. More on them later. The story follows the refugees as they travel to the ship, and the trials they face along the way, then ends with the sinking of the Wilhelm Gustoff. There's a lot of promise here - the chaos towards the end of the Second World War, the point of view of civilians from Eastern Europe which isn't so often told, an eye on a historical tragedy which the average reader might not have heard about.

But everything here was just a little bit too simplistic. Alfred's parts of the story kept hammering in how cowardly and weaselly and pathetic he is, Emilia's chapters made her seem like a saint, Florian's angst and brooding over how he's totally gonna be killed if he gets found out really doesn't fit the crime he's committing, and Joana's past is ill-defined and her story focuses more on her relationship with Florian. It's obvious that Florian and Joana are going to be the survivors. Emilia is too innocent, and Alfred is too bad. Even factoring in the extended cast - blind Ingrid is the first to go, then rude giantess Eva, then the sympathetic Shoe Poet. The child survives, because he's an innocent in a much purer way than Emilia. It's basic storytelling, and once that who's-going-to-make-it tension is gone, there really isn't that much left in the narrative to write home about.

And the narrative style is just too overblown for me. Every chapter is screaming look I've got secrets am I not the most mysterious thing to you, to the point where it just gets annoying. And the secrets themselves aren't all that shocking. It doesn't take a genius to guess that Emilia is a fantasist and the child she's carrying was concieved after an assault, or that Alfred's apparent sweetheart Hannelore isn't actually his sweetheart, and that he turned her in to the Nazis. Florian's whole thing, that he's carrying a small part of the Amber Room in defiance of Nazi Gauleiter Erich Koch, isn't all that compelling either. I was assuming he was involved in some anti-Nazi action - while this is technically anti-Nazi, it's hardly lifesaving revolutionary work. Joana, meanwhile, the audience is expected to be familiar with, which means I couldn't get much of a read on her. It's so disappointing, this could have been really good, but I was just taken out of it at every turn.

Next, three brave girls escape captivity in Australia.

[nostalgia-tblr]

Ok, I love reading your asks and your replied to them (never thought of Sylki Darkfic before but you are so right, selflessly possessive Loki being low-key creepy would be fitting). So I want to hear your two cents about this:

Sylvie has no reason to learn how to trust or suddenly be able to trust in S2. As you said, Loki doesn't give her a reason to trust him, it's almost like he just nags her till she gives up. The TVA are still pruning the Timelines (Dox) and they are still indifferent to the Timelines being pruned (Mobius). Sylvie could have seen the chance of the TVA agents redeeming if she had any interactions with B-15, but she doesn't. After trying to hope for the best, they failed at accomplishing whatever they dragged her from her life on the Timeline for.

So, does Sylvie get any development at all, or is she there to be the hysterical anti-cop mouthpiece as the other anon said?

okay first of all my disclaimer on this one is that while i have indeed come to appreciate the male sylvie loki as a character i did first get dragged in by sylvie so i tend to take her side on things because she is the superior blorbo.

(i put this behind a read-more thingy cos it got a bit long)

my feels on sylvie this season are that she's been demoted from 'her quest for revenge is the main driver of the plot' to 'isn't it awful that she makes the man upset by understandably-yet- foolishly disagreeing with him?' she's not had a pivotal moment with B-15 because sylvie in s2 is (so far) primarily there to make loki feel sad. she had that lovely end-credits bit of discovering the McDonalds Burgermatic Universe but then we didn't see that after all, we just skipped to her working on a till apparently established in her new life. there's two episodes left so this could all change but the first half has not been that great on the sylvie front :'(

even the fact that (someone correct me if i'm wrong pls as it is very possible) loki shows up at mcdonalds mostly because he saw her in a lift in the previous episode and assumes this means she will know about... her own future? somehow? or possibly because he knows she's one of the main characters and so she needs to be brought into this new plotline. or for emotional reasons but he obviously can't so much as hint at that to her in case they resolve their relationship issues too early. (how can sylvie expect him to tell her the truth about these things? it was only the second episode and that's far too early! what a daft bint she is!)

people get mad at sylvie for not being nice enough to loki but she's got a normal-seeming life now that she appears to enjoy, and him turning up (in a TVA uniform with his cop buddy AND THEIR PRISONER) demanding answers she doesn't have and telling her to just accept that The Cops Are Good Now Actually, Apart From All The Ones Who Aren't so like... why would she go out of her way to be polite and helpful about keeping the TVA running?

i don't think she's intended to seem like a hysterical rebel, but we're not being shown things from her perspective as much as before and we assume (we could be wrong about this but we do assume) that as the main character loki is going to turn out to be right about most of these things and we don't really get a balanced set of arguments, which seems to be partly because we need to hold off on these characters actually discussing anything so that we can ensure that loki stays sad about her until such time as he can be rewarded for his work on the time loom by the lifting of that sadness (or whatever).

there's still two episodes left though, which is enough time to turn this around a bit, perhaps by showing us a bit of sylvie's new life or by having some proper discussions/arguments about whatever the fuck the TVA are supposed to be doing now. so my feelings are currently mixed. could turn out fine, could end up crap. OH THE TENSION D: D: D:

[josiebelladonna]

okay, pro-ai people, what you got for me.

do your worst-

mmmkay, keep going

true, and you know, this was something that i believed would happen with merely the natural progression of technology and everything, as a building off digital art. but that’s not what’s happening, though—it’s also not “replicating” human-made art, it’s straight-up taking the data around it and storing it in algorithms. biggest missed opportunity i’ve seen… ever. in my whole life.

that’s beside the point, though—something tells me this guy has never done a speed drawing or speed paint before. but again, beside the point. what’s happening is typing into the algorithm to make whatever and then boom, done. absolutely zero effort.

let’s be real: i don’t care about engagement. sometime last year i decided i just wasn’t going to give a shit about it anymore because it doesn’t mean anything when you think about it. but my instagram likes have steadily fallen off a cliff since september: my reach has been phenomenal, though, i get at least 1000 people looking at me on a monthly basis and that’s on a weak month like december, too; but likes have been utterly abysmal lately. things i thought would be huge like my erotic drawings and yet people hardly bat an eye at them. it’d be easy to assume that “huh, there’s no place for this girl, especially since her art doesn’t look like anything else i’ve seen before. where do you place her?”

it’s something that has nagged at me for years, my place in the art world that is. it’s not anime because a.) it just isn’t—greatly influenced by it, but that’s not what it is, though; b.) that’s incorrect terminology anyway: anime is animation, manga is printed work; and c.) it just isn’t. i don’t fit in manga/anime circles for this reason, and i also don’t fit into cartoonist circles for this reason, too—cartoonists have gotten alarmingly cutthroat as of late, too, going on about their politics instead of making stuff that moves me. it’s really weird, and tragic, too, like you can only talk about that stuff before it gets exhausting and you’re wishing for your own alex skolnick.

i’m also seeing things like “it’s being framed as a crypto grift when it’s being done by actual artists” to which i say you’re probably looking at straight digital art for all we know—which tells me we’ve passed the point of no return there.

apparently, this guy started out as a traditional artist (account was started in 2017) and then switched to ai and—  you’re going to buy into an illusion because it’s the latest thing at the expense of your own roots and call it “ludditism”. god, that’s upsetting.

wait, wait, wait… did you miss something here? i feel like that above tweet should’ve led into something.

also, “there’s no need to hate something simply because it’s different.” there you go again with the “anti-ai is ableist” horseshit. i read about this when it started coming forth into the foray, and i always do, too: as an artist and someone who reads and has an extensive scientific background so i literally think like a scientist, this shit should sound off alarm bells everywhere.

i love how this guy just says “don’t be afraid because you’re wrong” and then does fuck all to back it up. paramount signs of blind leading the blind—it’s really weird because once you sift through the playground insults and the sense of entitlement, that’s really all what the pro-ai argument boils down to. seriously, go on twitter or the ai tag here on tumblr right now and see the pro-arguments that are meant to be mediating: they all have that air of “because i said so” and they don’t tell you anything—or they’re like mike portnoy and they’re like “but it’s so cool though!!”

worse, these people are so far gone in it that there’s no convincing them otherwise, even if you back it up and follow the research and show them the truth. they’re quickly reaching the level of trumpers and pro-lifers. they are just so convinced that they’re the ones telling the truth that they get all misty-eyed about it and yet you get absolutely nothing from them when you approach them logically. you learn nothing… except how they are as people, of course, and you find that it was nothing more than emotionally manipulative propaganda.

abortion is healthcare, not ~murder of babies~ (and being anti-abortion has roots in antisemitism and rape apology, too, so pro-life feminists can stop lying to us) trump is hitler 2.0 and magats (idk what they’re called, there’s about 12 different names for them) are the new nazis and ai is an existential threat whether you want to believe it or not.

too bad. IT’S NOT ART. IT’S THEFT AND ANTIHUMAN.

you didn’t say anything??

also, fuck twitter for making the most-replied tweets the most visible now, god, i’m glad i don’t have an account on there anymore.

by the way, i checked the replies under that thread, and—

did no one learn from 2016? i mean, jesus christ, it wasn’t even that long ago. “oh, the pandemic! the pandemic has warped my perception of time! wah wah wah!”  listen, when you close yourself off to a vacuum like this, you only receive feedback that backs you up and kisses your ass rather than challenge you and help you grow and learn and bust down your own pretenses… god forbid. fake news was actually a thing (until it wasn’t), and there still is hordes upon hordes of misinformation about covid and the vaccines, and it all comes down to not questioning and going, “maybe this isn’t the truth, maybe the truth is somewhere else or maybe it’s inside me. maybe the vaccine does work after all. maybe there is something that does resonate with me from the other side of the aisle. maybe this cool thing really is pernicious and i’m only believing my own bullshit because i’m the one who’s actually afraid.” also, hot take: memes contribute to propaganda because they’re based on punchlines and specific context rather than tell you something you should know. i can’t say how many times i see a meme anywhere and i have no idea what the hell it’s supposed to mean.

i like how that top tweet—nice touch with the “nft” in the username, too. yeah, people still take crypto seriously after the bottom dropped out on the market and i haven’t seen a commercial for it since last march—just reinforces the doom mindset that i’m seeing a lot of legit artists resign to (please don’t, i’m begging you, you are letting them win by undertaking this mindset)… as if there’s no such thing as legislation or artists banning together against this. they think no one can write petitions or get the ball rolling and make someone in a position of authority really look at the ethical implications of ai.

really, i want someone to look into starting a petition, do something to get the ball rolling to their congressman or whoever to really look at the ethics behind ai to expose the truth about it and maybe do something about it because it’s only a matter of time before the hollow propaganda wins. yeah, congress is what it is, but it’s something, though. it’s called making use of the tools that you have at your disposal, even if they don’t function at the ideal level, something that’s been with us from the first time our ancestors created fire. unlike h.r. puff n stuff here^, i actually want art to go places. and not because i said so.

[theultracharmingladynoire]

Hi there ❤️ So, after being in denial about Sentiadrien since forever (just the mere idea was too painful for me and I thought it’d never happen anyway) the other day the clues hit me all at once and I’ve been depressed and anxious ever since. Not because I see him as any less of a human (he’s a human to me) but because of him not being free. I saw you’re a pro sentiadrien who also used to be anti-sentiadrien so, how did you cope with this? Any tips?

Also, asking just to make sure I’m understanding the theory correctly: even when Gabriel tells Adrien to do something, he still has a mind and feelings of his own. So far (I think) we’ve only seen behaviour commands (you have to do this, you can’t do that) but not thought or emotion commands (you have to think or feel this) and considering how heartless Gabriel has been so far, it’s safe to assume that it’d be much easier for him to *make* Adrien feel or think whatever he wants him to (like making him hate Marinette or fall out of love with her in Chat Blanc instead of blackmailing Mari to break up with him for instance). Which takes me to: I think either the peacock commands have limits and can only be behaviour based (just like the Wish has limits to make it ethical and fair) or (unlikely scenario) Gabriel still has some humanity left in him and is seeing his son as his son and refuses to make him feel or think whatever he wants him to. I personally think the peacock orders having limits makes a lot more sense, because if there weren’t limits to that to make it ethical, by that logic the Wish shouldn’t have limits either (so you could get back someone you love and choose someone you hate as the sacrifice, double win for you then, no consequences yay). What are your thoughts on this?

Hi anon!🤍

First of all, I understand the anxiety surrounding sentiadrien. I... don't quite remember how I accepted the theory myself, but I remember reading a lot of meta and posts from people who were open to and liked the theory so I understood different views about it ? I highly recommend @sentisugar which has a lot of posts I read back then (when the discourse was at its peak I am so glad it's over fjdj) and @gentil-minou's metas on the topic (which was actually the first ones I read about sentiadrien I think?) But overall, I don't really think there's a definite method for the theory to grow on you, you know? It just took time.

You might be onto something about the limits on the miraculous though, that's interesting! I am still kind of confused about the lore surrounding it in canon so I am. Not able to talk about it more xjshdh

Gabriel actively choosing not to control Adrien's emotions just seems like the last thing after seeing all the shitty things he's capable of doing as we've seen so far lol

[esther-dot]

Apparently Sansa is 'most classist and most white character' in asoiaf. Add ableist and abusive also. If it's not good enough add a murderer to it. Sansa antis are so blind in their hatred for Sansa that they always over-exaggerate her flaws or twist them to make her sounds worst then actual criminals. If they can't take criticism of their faves then they should left Sansa alone.

I’m finally responding to asks again, anon. Sorry it’s taken me so long!

Discussion of Sansa’s flaws has caused some discord in the Sansa fandom because there are a lot of different takes on specific lines, however, I agree with you that antis have taken things ludicrously far in their efforts to prove she’s a baddie. There is a double standard in which The Hound slaughtering one child and intimidating, threatening, and intending to rape another child (Sansa), doesn’t mean he’s a monster, but Sansa saying a mean thing to her sister makes her evil. Make that make sense. 😂

Broadly speaking, I think the difference between anti Sansa takes and anti [insert fandom fav] is that usually we point to an action and say it’s so bad it indicates a specific role for them. Like, “You know, murdering your ex lover and wanting to rape your sister makes you a bad person, Tyrion” or “Hey, burning a person alive and profiting off of slavery feels like non-hero-y actions, Dany” whereas anti Sansa people can’t really argue that fighting with your sister makes you a villain so they’re forced to push it and argue, “no, she DOES know that they’re poisoning sweetrobin...” We don’t have the confirmation, there are no objective “this is wrong” signs, but they know deep down Sansa is evil so they insert into the story knowledge and intent to argue that she is. They’re free to do that, and I happily block them because if we’re expected to ignore what is explicitly stated while they get to write things into the text that don’t exist...well, we actually are reading different books!

So (again, broadly, there are instances of disagreement between well-intentioned readers), criticism of one character is based in what the text presents and the other is based in the readers feelings and there isn’t really a common ground to engage on because I don’t share their feelings. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ 

I have no idea what they might mean by Sansa being the “most white” when I would assume that would have to apply to all Stark kids equally? And if we mean that in a non literal way, but a broader “she is privileged in her world and benefits from that privilege”…well, again, so do the other Starks. We’re even shown that Jon, in spite of how he has suffered for being a bastard led a privileged life too, so I don’t buy that this is a valid complain against Sansa specifically.

A lot of fans have addressed the classist issue and I think the fandom overall does a bad job of accepting certain aspects of the world. It matters to Jon that his mother is a lady. Why? Because he’s in a classist society and he accepts the terms of his world even though he as an individual is a good person who does challenge some norms. He’s still a product of his world though. Being a bastard eats him alive for a reason. Trying to act like Sansa is particularly heinous in that regard is silly. Arya is a standout in rejecting certain norms and I think that’s great, but the contrast is part of the representation of two different types of women who both suffer in their world. The idea isn’t that Sansa should be Arya or that Arya should be Sansa. The author is talking about much bigger and less sexist ideas there. And while Arya will ultimately be free from the burdens of society, I think Sansa’s position within society will allow her to make changes that benefit others. As for their accusations that Sansa is ableist, a while ago I wrote this about Sansa and Willas:

She goes from asking if he’s a knight as her first reaction to saying it doesn’t matter about his leg. She chooses to not be fixated on it and reshapes her daydreams to accommodate him.

[...]

and sure, it’s a romanticized version of her life with him, but that’s just who Sansa is, and who she isn’t is someone who would hate a person or be cruel because she is ableist. She is cold to Tyrion because his family murdered hers and she was forced to marry him. I’d even say this whole section is a glimpse of her attempting to reprogram herself in-spite of the ableism of their world. (link)

She wanted to marry Willas, and in spite of being forced to marry Tyrion she felt sympathy for him. In spite of her own discomfort with certain aspects of sweetrobin’s behavior, she tries to comfort him and improve his life. People do not need to like her, but their hatred really has made them distort her beyond all recognition. Reading the books, Sansa seemed particularity compassionate to me and there were lots of moments that pointed to this, but perhaps the most significant is her knowing she should fall into the norms of her world and hate the entire family of those who have killed hers, but she can’t, instead she helps

I think any honest reader can see what the author is saying here. Sansa isn’t soft, weak, or stupid. Sansa is kind, compassionate, and brave. She is the kind of person we should want to influence their world because she would make it a better place. Refusing to see that and creating other accusations to lob at her means misunderstanding not only Sansa, but a huge part of the story.