#I HAVE TO IMAGINE IT'S A BEAVER OR SOMETHING but i never get to see it..... new calling card ( emoji i cannot see )

[vellichorom]

I am so excited for 2023 twinkie arts,,,,i am waving a banner in support!! I have a little noise maker!! Ur art style is so lovely 🥰 ❤️🦫

BEAVER ANON YOU ARE TOO GOOD TO ME ALWAYS ;;

I GOT YOUR OTHER MESSAGE TOO ( as well as your lovely gift, thank you FOREVER ) & GOD do I understand how crazy life can get ( trust me, I'm going through it myself in my own ways, let's call it winter madness ) but I genuinely hope the year's off to a KILLER start for you or at the very least, gets better from here!

thank you, thank you, THANK you again for always being kind enough to check up on me & see what all I'm doing even if it's not necessarily up your alley & just being endlessly kind to me, I love you so much /platonically

[foone]

whats your favourite narnia book if you have one

Since I grew up as an autistic christian, I have many Narnia Opinions!

So, my favorite book for it's own reasons is probably The Magician's Nephew. I'm always a slut for worldbuilding and backstory and that novel is basically just only that. Some guy we know from another book goes on an adventure and in the process gets to be involved with the creation of one world and the destruction of another? kick-ass.

Best book to adapt? The Lion, The Witch, and the Wardrobe. 1988 BBC version, 1979 Cartoon version, 2005 theatrical? All good, in their own ways. The BBC version is just perfectly 80s and the costumes are amazing (because they are costumes! they did all the monsters by sticking a guy in a big costume and I love it), the cartoon version captures the fucking whimsy of a story where SANTA SHOWS UP AND GIVES EVERYONE PRESENTS and the first person to offer any serious lore about the situation is named MR BEAVER. And the 2005 film has the big battles and CGI and Tilda Swinton as the White Witch which is... so much. I love them all.

But the best book adaptation is the 1990 BBC The Silver Chair. Hands down. It's got Tom Baker's Puddleglum, Warwick Davis playing an owl, 0£ BBC budget greenscreened giants (MULTIPLE TIMES), a group of people discovering IT'S A COOKBOOK and one of them being offended by the cookbook saying they don't taste very good, the bad guy turning into a giant rubber snake. a witch trying to gaslight some humans into believing the sun is a myth, and the ultimate salvation of Eustace Scrubb: a boy who almost deserved being named that.

And since I can't not list basically everything Narnia ever made, BBC's 1989 Prince Caspian and The Voyage of the Dawn Treader is pretty good too. It's a fun "road movie", in that it's an odyssey into a fictional Mysterious Ocean of Here There Be Dragons.

Lotta hits in that one. It's also got a "collect the macguffins!" plot where they're trying to collect the Seven Lost Lords.

But yeah, it's like... the first Island gets them a lord and they get to end slavery. Next up, Dragon TF island (The dragon is Greed... but it's also just a literal fucking dragon). Next, Gold TF island. Gold, it turns out, makes you go insane in your lust for wealth, even if you're already a Prince of a whole country. The gold is Greed, but it will also just fucking kill you because you'll be turned into gold.

Then it's the island of the ugly invisible one-foot guys and it turns out they cast a spell to turn invisible so no one could see how they're ugly but they're not ugly, they just think they are? and then it goes "HEY LUCY COMPARE YOURSELF TO YOUR OLDER SISTER" and she's like "I'm ugly.... unlike her. Maybe I should use magic to STEAL HER BEAUTY?!" and it's like, wow. Is there maybe a theme here about self-esteem in your appearance? and Clive Officemax Lewis is over there going I'LL NEVER TELL.

Anyway it's got the good line about how the Wizard in charge of the ugly invisible one-footed pogo-idiots is that how he eagerly awaits the day that they can be ruled by wisdom, instead of magic. It's a fun approach to magic: it's something that is a shortcut, a crutch, and it's a poor replacement for Wisdom, even when used by "the good guys". Tell me, Mr. FedexKinkos-Lewis, do you have any opinions on the complicated relationship between Christianity and magic? oh, you do? I never would have guessed!

They also find The Island Where Dreams Come True. They don't land there, they just fish a screaming man out of the ocean who is trying to escape it. The sailors hear it's The Island Where Dreams Come True and are like "wow, I could have my own ship!" and he yells no, you fools, not dreams like your wishes and imaginations, your actual dreams come true on this island.

and everyone agrees: Get us the fuck away from this island and lets never return.

Anyway I'm not gonna talk about THE ENTIRE MOVIE/BOOK but it's got a great weirdness at the end where they reach the end of the world (which is flat. It's okay, this is Narnia, a completely different world with different physical rules than Earth), and it's a waterfall, but a waterfall going up?

It turns out Heaven is on the other side of it. They turn around, but the anthropomorphic mouse is like "ehh, I'll take that journey" and becomes the Elijah of Aslan's Country, their equivalent of heaven.

Narnia, won't you?

[supernovasilence]

Narnia headcanons: characters + how they take being sick

Peter: baby. Absolute needy baby. He's sick and he's miserable and everyone needs to feel sorry for him and take care of him. Will put on a good face in public because he knows the High King has to project strength and security but with family and friends he's just absolutely Suffering. The only time he's stoic is when he's seriously injured and doesn't want to scare his siblings (but then they're scared anyway because they can tell it's serious). Also so bad at not scratching scabs, bug bites, etc. All his siblings learn how to automatically say "Peter, don't scratch" whenever he has something they know he's going to pick at.

Peter: *absently starts picking at a scab*

Edmund, chucking a pillow at him from across the room without looking up from his book: peterdon'tscratch

Peter, indignantly: I wasn't!

Susan: the only one of the lot who acts halfway sensibly when sick. As long as she has a good supply of books and tea she will settle down and rest, though she does have a tendency of ignoring when she's starting to get sick. Running Narnia is a full time job; she can't afford to rest today, but tomorrow, or the day after, things will be quieter, and then ofc they never are. The others learn to watch when she starts getting extra snappy, because it means she's feeling bad and muscling through it, and they need to take some of her work off her hands so she can be convinced to go rest

Edmund: Thinks he'll enjoy the chance to lie around doing nothing but gets restless within a day, and then is grumpy and sulky. Like Susan, has a tendency to push himself when he starts getting sick, making it worse in the long run, except he's better at hiding it

Lucy: goes back to running around doing stuff the instant she starts feeling better, and then is worse again the next day. This happens every time and she never learns. Her friends/family make sure at least one of them sits with her when she's sick so they can make sure she stays in bed (imagine Mr. Tumnus playing her lullabies and telling her about all the magical sights and scenes they'll go see once she's better but that means resting first or the Beavers chattering away to her or Susan reading to her or Edmund telling her increasingly wild tales about what's supposedly going on in Narnia without her and occasionally physically sitting on her out of purest duty as an older sibling (Lucy: I can murder you without leaving this bed!) or Peter insisting he has to leave the busy everything that wants the High King's attention right this moment because he has an important matter to attend to and the important matter is cuddling his little sister and promising she can get out of bed soon or poor confused Caspian distracting Lucy by letting her teach him the rules of those hand-clapping games (a 30-second wikipedia dive also leads me to believe rock-paper-scissors would have made it to Britain by the 1940s))

Caspian: probably that one person who never gets sick. Even when a bug's going around and everyone else is hacking and snotty and miserable, he's fine and everyone hates him. The few times he does get sick, it's randomly in the middle of summer when no one else is sick and he hasn't gone out in the rain or done anything differently than usual and no one gets how he's sick now. Caspian is quietly melodramatic and just. resigns himself to death. Guilt trips people into taking care of him almost as much as Peter, except that he's not actually trying. Peter finds it very unfair people are sympathetic to Caspian and not to him

Eustace: whiny whiny baby and hypochondriac that convinces himself he's dying. Is lucky the internet has not been invented yet because he would end up on webMD, certain he has everything

[epithet-beloved]

Could we get some parental Percy and Ramsey? If not that’s fine

PARENTAL PERCY + RAMSEY HEADCANONS

synopsis… Percy and Ramsey as your parents

ft. Percival “Percy” King, Ramsey Murdoch, Howie Honeyglow (mentioned), Meryl Lockhart (mentioned), Sergeant Eros (mentioned)

tags… parental imagine, Percy and Ramsey’s relationship is unspecified, goofy family shenanigans, some anime campaign references but no spoilers, relationship study

word count… 702

a/n… I FINALLY GOT MY WRITING SPOONS BACK BAYBEYYYYYY. Apologies for the long hiatus, but I hope you all enjoy these imagines! ✧ 🦄

𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪 Even if Ramsey is your actual father, he still gets treated at least a little bit like a weird uncle that the rest of the family doesn’t want you associating with.

𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪 Despite some general banter, Percy trusts Ramsey with your care quite a lot after he helped her in Redwood Run, and is always fair and never presumptuous. She has quite a few ground rules, some of them a bit odd, but never unfair.

“Uhhh….Percy?” Ramsey’s confusion was met by the policewoman’s polite smile.

“Yes? Is there something you’d like to ask me about the rules?”

A nod. “Just one thing.” Despite the fact that she couldn’t see what he was pointing to, the Australian pointed to one of the lines with his index finger. “I think ‘no crayons of debauchery’ is a bit unnecessary.”

𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪 Your time between the two is divvied up almost perfectly evenly, as expected of Percy’s scheduling. Sometimes, Ramsey can even go somewhere with you as long as an officer (typically Percy) accompanies you.

𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪 On occasion, you’ll also get ‘babysat’ by Meryl or Sergeant Eros when both your parents are unavailable. Meryl can be a bit…jumpy, but typically well meaning. And Eros will let you ride shotgun if he takes you to work with him (given that the work is appropriate and something you can tag along for).

𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪 Ramsey makes drawings of your OCs and Percy hangs them on her fridge. It’s kind of comical to see your fursona or the like hung up in her otherwise rather plain kitchen, but it’s also a sweet reminder of how she’s invested in your interests.

“I must admit, I am curious.” You perked your head up at the sound of your mother’s voice, watching as she admired one of the papers hung up with a magnet on her fridge. When she was done examining the drawing like it was some sort of specimen, she’d stand up to her full height and look your way. “Why am I drawn as a beaver in this picture?”

“Oh,” you explained between bites of food, “I always thought if you were an animal, that’s what you’d be, because you make all kinds of buildings when you’re working.”

This answer seemed to leave her pleased, almost glowing in response to your perception of her. With a hand over her heart, she spoke in a calm voice. “Ah, the beaver. Truly an industrious creature. Nature’s architect, presiding over the flowing waters, arbiting their path….”

….Well, that probably meant she was happy about the fursona you came up for her.

𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪 I wouldn’t call Percy overprotective per se, but she is very cautious. Like if you want to ride a bike, she’ll make sure you have a helmet, knee pads, elbow pads, shoulder pads….overall, just makes sure to take all possible safety measures in a situation. She’ll never stop you from doing something you want to do within reason, she’ll just make sure she’s there to keep an eye on you.

𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪 You’ve also likely met Howie once or twice because he’s a good friend (slash business rival) of Percy’s. He gave you a honeyed snack once. It tasted good, but the texture is…..questionable.

𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪 Despite Percy being classic lawful good, Ramsey can actually be the more reasonable one, aka having more common sense in a situation. Sometimes, parent-child bonding is just being surrounded by wackiness while both expressing complete and utter exasperation.

“Hey dad, do you know what is happening right now at all?” You loved your mother to death, but her idea of a ‘fun activity’ could often be rather strange. Like now, where she was currently trying to enforce road safety laws to the Mario Kart CPUs. While losing.

All the man could do was shake his head and crack a grin. “Eh, just roll with it, kiddo. You get used to it after a while.”

𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪 They both give headpats, but Percy’s are a sort of stiff “pat pat” while Ramsey’s is more of a noogie that messes up your hair. You don’t have the heart to say either one is better than the other, though.

𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪 They’re both wonderful, really. Both a little weird, but that’s part of what makes your family so great.

[ladylooch]

Hi, can you please write a timo meier imagine about reader and timo having sex and reader fakes an orgasim at night and tells some of the wags about it next day about how she really fooled him with her acting, not knowing that timo and his teammates overheard everything, his teammates laugh at him and timo gets embarrassed and upset at reader?

Eager Beaver with Timo Meier

A/N: Sometimes I write things and I’m like lmao a man would never say this, which is why we all love it 😆 Hahahaha. Poor Timo just wanted to show you a good time after he got home! Why you gotta do him like that!? Literally!

Word Count: 1.1k

Warnings: SMUT 18+ Content, Swearing, Angst. 

Tonight, Timo is an eager beaver. He’s been on the road for a long time, bouncing around the  East coast. He came roaring into the bedroom when he got home, flipping the covers off your body and dive bombing your breasts. He spent time kissing along the swells, but then he was dipping into your pants with quick fingers that had you reeling trying to catch up to what was happening.

“Please tell me you are close.” He moans into your hair. His thrusts are sooooo slow. And you’re nowhere near there. But his breathing is picking up. And his moans are filling the air of your bedroom. And you think the right thing to do is to perform a little bit to help him out. 

“Yeah, baby. Feels so good.” You coo into his ear, tugging his ear lobe between your teeth. His jerky hips buck into you as you heighten your breathing, moaning his name and arching your back like you’re coming. Timo finishes inside of you, melting into your body afterwards. 

“I needed that.” He confesses, running his hand along your cheek. “It was too long of a trip. I hate missing you that much.” You smile, ignoring the guilt of your conscious that pokes at you for pretending.

He’s happy. You’re happy. No harm done. 

The following day, Timo is whistling as you and him walk into the Children’s hospital visit you both agreed to. A few other team members and their significant others are joining too. He is happy after being reacquainted with you and has an extra pep in his step at seeing some young fans too. The Sharks are filming the visit for a PR video, so both you and Timo get mic’d up when you enter.

“I think this is where I leave you.” He smiles, leaning down to kiss you. The boys are going to do room visits while the girls are heading to some arts and crafts time. “Thank you for coming. It means a lot to me.”

“I know. Me too.” You kiss him back with a little tongue that adds a bright glint to his eyes. 

“Last night not enough, eh?” You widen your eyes and laugh off the pinch of guilt. 

“Good night, huh?” Erik’s wife, Melinda, asks you.

“Ah, yeah I’m letting him think that.” You chuckle. You and Melinda have a good relationship and it feels silly to lie to her about something so minor. 

“Little bit of a show?”

“Eager beaver didn’t know how to wait.” You joke back. 

“Babe.” Timo calls urgently. “Your mic is hot.” You cringe, looking at Melinda who covers hers in shock too. You had completely forget. 

“Sorry.” You cringe, looking at the producer who shrugs like he doesn’t care.

“We can cut it out.”

You look over at Timo who’s cheeks are red and eyebrows pulled down in agitation over his blue eyes. Can the producers cut it out of his brain too? Shit. You open your mouth to say something and he shakes his head, walking off with the rest of the group to the elevators. You close your eyes, knowing him well enough to understand he is really upset. 

The day drags on, The kids are cute and you do your best to interact with a positive attitude. But all you want is to see Timo and explain. What you’ll say, you still haven’t figured out, but it has to be something to soothe him. 

At the end of the event, he is somehow in a worse mood than before while you’re walking to the car together.

“What the fuck was that?!” He snaps at you. “I just spent two hours being annihilated by the guys for that. In front of the PR team. And young kids.” 

“I’m sorry. I forgot about the mic.” 

“I don’t..” He trails off, hands slapping against his thighs as he keeps walking to the car. “I don’t know what to say.” He completes his thought when you’re both in the car. You try to reach for his hand and he pulls away. “No, I’m really upset. I’m going to drop you at home and leave.” His tone is final. He refuses to look at you on the speedy ride home. You get out of the car and Timo roars off behind you before you’ve even gotten into the front door.

It’s agony being at home without him. You have no idea where he is. Your heart aches for what happened this morning. You feel so awful about what you did last night too. Why didn’t you tell him to slow down? Why didn’t you show him what you needed instead of pretending everything was fine? Why didn’t you remember the mic they put on you literally two minutes before that happened?

The sun has set when the garage door begins to open. You set your glass of wine on the end table and turn to look over the couch at the door. Timo comes in with take out bags for dinner and a bouquet of flowers. You hide your face in the couch cushion, feeling completely unworthy of whatever romantic display he is about to do. He puts a hand on your hair, tugging your pony tail for you to look at him.

“I was really embarrassed earlier and I didn’t know how to communicate with you about why.” You rest your chin on the back of the couch while he kneels down to be eye level with you. His thumb strokes your cheek while the rest of his fingers caress your neck. “I missed you and thought I showed you how much last night. That’s why it was so upsetting. I can take the heat from the guys. Whatever. But not giving you that experience feels awful.” 

“I’m sorry. I should have told you, but you were so eager. And it was hot. I loved so much of that but I was also half asleep when you came in and…” You close your eyes, having a hard time seeing his forehead crinkle in worry. “It wasn’t enough.” You finish, not having any other words to describe it. He nods. 

“That is fair.” He leans forward to share a tender kiss with you. “Let’s make a deal to not do that again.”

“Never.” You agree, wrapping your arms around his shoulders. He lifts you over the back of the couch, standing with you in his arms. Your ankles hook together at his lower back. The hug lasts for awhile, softly stroking each other’s back, leaning heads together and sharing a few more smooches. “I love you.” You say sweetly. He smiles, the corners of his eye crinkling in joy. 

“I love you too.” He murmurs. “Come see what I got us for dinner.” 

[lepurcinus]

In more Xf ideas. Don't you find it interesting to handle a concept where animals think of/remember/miss an extinct animal? Whether it went extinct recently or in more ancient times.

And not in that sense where suddenly a wolf says "ah yes mammoths existed a long time ago but humans made them extinct bad humans". But in a context where they REALLY are confused or don't have a clear idea about that animal or why it disappeared.

Using Watership Down as an example (because it never fails). In the stories the rabbits tell throughout the book we are told about a character named King Darzin and his people, of which we are never told or given a clear idea about what species of animal they are. In these stories we see that they have a somewhat antagonistic relationship with the rabbits and get into trouble with them a couple of times.

The last time we are told of these we are told that their people were chased by the Owsla of the black rabbit and that they disappeared, causing the rabbits to eventually forget what animals they were or what they looked like.

Well, far from imagining what animal they would be. In a Reddit AMA Richard Adams said he imagined King Darzin's people as a type of beaver. Once you think about it you form the puzzle.

By the time Watership Down was written and it happens. Beavers (which were a native species in the UK) had been extinct for centuries, hunted to their end by humans.

In that sense, beavers in ancient times coexisted with rabbits and probably competed with them for terrain, food, etc. (I'm not sure how true this is in reality but in the WD universe it seems to be). Eventually the beavers went extinct, leaving the rabbits to wonder what happened to them having simply disappeared without a trace. The humans made them extinct but the rabbits have no idea about it nor should they know, so they attributed such an act to Inle and the beavers remained in their memory in the form of stories that would eventually be lost in detail until the version we heard.

And with that I thought of for example:

A story involving pronghorn, these animals evolved to have great speed and this was because in a past time they coexisted with the American Cheetah, an animal that will eventually become extinct leaving the pronghorn with an adaptation for a predator that no longer exists.

So what if the pronghorn have stored in story form the memory of the American cheetah? They don't remember it for exactly what animal it was. But if they do remember that terrible predator that made their ancestors acquire great speed, they may even attribute to it a mystical status as a kind of divine beast or monster along with that something that gave them their "gift."

Think of that potential. It could also serve for more recently existing species such as those on islands.

[pitviperofdoom]

So I decided a little while ago to do a full series reread of Redwall. I’m still early in it, I just finished Redwall and started Mossflower, and you know what? Might as well express my thoughts as I go. Blacklist “redwall reread” if you don’t want to see this, there WILL be spoilers.

So! Thoughts, on reflection, about Redwall:

Something I forgot along the way is just how competent Matthias is right from the start. Granted he lives in a society that hasn’t seen war in several generations so it’s not like he has a lot of competition, but he still goes from Bumbling Novice Who Doesn’t Quite Fit In to a martial and tactical powerhouse alongside Constance, the one who closed negotiations by picking up an entire banquet table and throwing it.

And not only that, people listen to him! As soon as negotiations break down, Matthias jumps in with a plan and all his elders listen. I watched the animated series growing up, which was... not super great, quality wise, but enjoyable enough for a kid. And one of the changes the show made was playing up Matthias’s childishness and inexperience. In the adaptation, when everyone’s panicking about the legendary warlord marching on the abbey, Matthias jumps in with this rallying speech about how they’ll fight back, and the abbot scolds him for it. “No more talk of fighting,” when Cluny the Scourge is almost at their doorstep. In the original book?

“Do? I’ll tell you what we’ll do. We’ll be ready.” The Abbot could not help shaking his head in admiration. It seemed that young Matthias had hidden depths. “Why, thank you, Matthias,” he said. “I could not have put it better myself. That’s exactly what we will do. We’ll be ready!”

(Years later, a certain wizard in a certain film adaptation would ask a question calmly.)

This book has a beaver in it. And a horse. And the mention of a dog. And Portugal.

Speaking of which, one of the many things that I think sets this book apart from the rest is that it feels like Jacques is making an attempt to write a book that takes place in a smaller Mouse World that exists within a larger world. The abbey is mouse-sized, of course, but an entire army of rats rides in on a single horse-drawn hay cart. Matthias climbs hay bales in a barn and falls into a cat’s mouth. Again, Portugal exists.

Idk what my point is, it just goes to show that BJ really was gradually building this world as he wrote it. I didn’t obsess so much over canon continuity, I just came up with my own explanations for things.

Ah, phonetic accents. I have mixed feelings about phonetic accents these days. I know logically that it’s better to avoid them, but like. I read the moles’ dialogue and try to imagine what it would look like without every word misspelled to exaggerate the dialect, and I just. Couldn’t visualize it. Moles just aren’t moles if you aren’t rereading their lines two or three times to parse what they’re saying. (Excepting Egburt the Scholar, of course, but I won’t see him for several books.)

I think my lifelong obsession with ferrets can be traced back to Killconey. I just. I know he’s a villain but I just love this guy so much. He’s adorable, he’s got a solid head on his shoulders, and he never tries to screw over his comrades, murder his comrades, bully his comrades, or flat-out lie to Cluny to get ahead, like SOME people, Cheesethief. RIP Killconey you were a good henchman and Cluny shouldn’t have thrown you at Matthias to get chopped in half.

Sela named her son Chickenhound no wonder he didn’t mourn her. Of course, his idea of a better name was “Mousedeath” so it’s not like he had room to judge.

Portugal????

[sicklyseraphnsuch]

(1) (2)

"Is that a dragon? That's a dragon! It's a dragon! You're a dragon!"

Hiccup and Toothless share a look. When facing a thousand pound, flying, fire-breathing lizard, people tend to back away at best, and at worst, they start swinging - axes, clubs, fists. In general, there's a lot of panic, sometimes screaming, involved. Hiccup was prepared for that, not whatever Jack's doing.

Clearly, if their guest was healthier - more capable of moving without risk of death, he would be running around like a madman. But, thankfully for Hiccup's sanity, Jack can barely stand, staying on his feet through sheer stubborn will.

But he laughs freely and loudly as a smile lights up his whole face. Hiccup could almost - almost - forget the corpse-like tinge of Jack's skin, the sunken shadows on his cheeks, or the bruise-like marks beneath his eyes.

"Uh yeah... So... Meet Toothless... He's a dragon, alright." Hiccup frowns. "What? Have you never seen a dragon before?"

"Of course not!" Jack replies, not taking his eyes off Toothless. "Dragons don't exist where I'm from. We only have stories, you know, myths and legends." He turns to Hiccup. "You're the weird one here."

"Me?"

"Yeah! You see dragons everyday and you're just so boring about it."

"Gee, thanks."

"Oh not like that! I was just - I don't know. I'm over here losing my mind and you're just standing there, looking at me funny."

Hiccup tries to imagine a life where dragons had not been part of his existence since day one. He nearly gets a headache for his efforts. A life - a world without dragons? What? There's no way. That's just impossible.

"Aaaand now you just look constipated."

Hiccup rolls his eyes. "So what do you have over in the New World?"

"Horses? Bears? Sheep? Beavers?"

"What's a beaver?"

"It's kinda like a giant rat - big front teeth and a wide flat tail. They build their houses on rivers. You can make good money from their fur."

"Huh."

"Right? Totally not as cool as dragons."

"You know, most people would be afraid of dragons. You're over here acting like Snoggletog came early."

"What's Snoggletog?"

"What's - Okay, this is too much. You're breaking my brain over here."

Jack cackles, which quickly turns into hacking coughs that shake his whole body.

Hiccup frowns. "I think that's enough excitement for one day."

"What? No! We just got started! I'm literally four steps from the front door!" Jack wheezes out, gesturing at the hut sitting right at his back.

It's only been two days since Jack woke up and introduced himself. This was not nearly enough time for a full recovery, according to Gothi. But after a couple hours of sitting around, watching water boil, the guy was literally climbing up the walls. Once, Hiccup had to catch him because Jack almost fell out the window. All things considered, that was probably an escape attempt... Or maybe Jack had really intense cabin fever. If Hiccup had to spend two whole days with only Gothi for company, he would also throw himself out the window.

Since Jack was driving himself crazy (which drove Gothi crazy), Hiccup took pity on him (on them both), and offered to show him around Berk. Of course, that meant Jack would get to see all the dragons roaming around. There was a good chance that Jack would keel over at the sight of so many dragons in one place. So, not taking any risks, Hiccup figured that a quiet, one on one introduction would help their guest get... used to the way they do things around here.

Given the way Jack got so excited from meeting Toothless, Hiccup can pat himself on the back for a job well done. He can also smack himself for not thinking about the whole "Jack can barely move" problem. How's the guy supposed to see Berk if he can't even walk ten steps without collapsing? Didn't think about that, did ya Hiccup?

Hiccup and Toothless share another look. If dragons could shrug, Toothless would have done so at that exact moment. He also would have said something like, "Hey, this guy's your problem." Lazy lizard.

Sighing, Hiccup runs a hand through his hair, thinking over his options. Maybe if he...

"If we strap you to the saddle, we can show you Berk from the sky."

Jack's eyes nearly pop out of his skull. "The sky? What? You're gonna let me ride Toothless? We're gonna fly?!"

Hearing him say so, Hiccup begins to question his idea. The face that Toothless makes doesn't help. But Jack is vibrating with excitement now, his grin curling from ear to ear. Hiccup doesn't have the heart to deny him.

"Yeaaa... But just a short flight... If you die on my watch, Gothi can and will curse me."

"Fair. But I'm not gonna die." Jack rolls his eyes.

Hiccup snorts. "Well, I suppose there's really only one way to find out."

It takes some work. Hiccup asked Gothi for some spare leather, which he quickly wove into a rudimentary belt. Then he handed Jack some of his extra flight gear (kept on hand in case something breaks midair), and walked him through adjusting it for his size. Jack was vaguely annoyed, almost sulking, when he had to tighten the straps several notches. Hiccup made things worse by grinning at the size difference. After a lifetime of being the village toothpick, it's sooo nice to be bigger than someone for once.

Finally, it was the moment of truth. Hiccup was fairly confident that Toothless would allow Jack a seat on his back. But as they say, "it's never wise to count your fish before coming to shore".

With Jack watching closely, Hiccup steps forward, holding out his hand. "Just let him come to you."

Taking his cue, Toothless bumps his snout against Hiccup's palm, exactly the way he did all those years ago.

"See?" Hiccup glances at Jack as he gently pets Toothless. "As long as you're careful and slow..."

Jack meets his gaze and nods slowly. He copies Hiccup, lifting a hand up and letting it hang in the air. Unlike when Hiccup first tried this, Jack doesn't look away. Toothless stares right back. For what feels like forever, neither make a move and Hiccup starts to think that they'll never move again. Then Toothless decides to break their little staring contest, but he doesn't press his snout to Jack's hand. No, this weirdo of a lizard decides to lick Jack's palm. Their equally weird guest outright cackles with glee. Toothless appears very pleased with himself.

Hiccup shakes his head, clapping his hands. "Alright, alright. We're all good buddies now, great! Let's not waste anymore daylight."

Jack whoops and scrambles over to the saddle. After some awkward wiggling and squirming, it becomes pretty clear that Jack has never sat on a saddle in his whole life. Toothless keeps trying to look behind him, wondering what this strange new human was doing on his back.

"Need some help?" Hiccup asks, stifling a smile.

"Nah! I'm good!" Jack says cheerfully, with his booted feet planted on the saddle, and nowhere near the stirrups.

Hiccup crosses his arms. "I'm sorry to say that you've got it all wrong."

Jack takes in his crouched position. "What? No! Can't be!"

There's even odds that this guy is just messing with him. But Hiccup finds himself laughing along. It was just a bit of harmless fun.

"Right well, your feet are supposed to go here. Let me-" Hiccup reaches over to take hold of Jack's ankle.

He didn't mean anything by it. He was just going to place Jack's foot into the stirrup. But as soon as Hiccup's fingers brush against Jack's ankle, the guy flinches hard and launches himself off the saddle. Toothless lets out a loud squawk, echoed by Hiccup, as they watch Jack tumble down - head first - towards the ground.

Luckily, Toothless is not very tall so falling off his back won't cause permanent damage. But it would still hurt. From the hard thump followed by a breathless groan, it sure sounds like it hurts.

"Jack!" Hiccup hurries over.

"I'm fine! I'm fine! Just a little..." Jack waves a hand. "You... I wasn't expecting the..."

The poor guy looks shaken, breathing heavily and trembling all over. All that from one tiny touch? Hiccup frowns.

"Sorry, I didn't - I was - I should have warned you."

"No, no, no! You're good!" Jack folds his brow, keeping his eyes fixed on the ground. "It really wasn't a big deal."

"Coulda fooled me..." Hiccup murmurs under his breath. "Can you - Are you hurt?"

"Just my dignity, but who needs that, right?" Jack pushes himself up and dusts himself off.

Hiccup snorts. "I wouldn't know. I never had that myself."

Jack grins, already looking a lot steadier. Sure, he's breathing a little funny, but he's less twitchy - less ready to run. Before Hiccup could say anything more, Jack's already back by Toothless, swinging himself onto the saddle, no more messing around. But the stirrups still give him trouble and after a few failed tries, he lets out a frustrated grunt and kicks off his boots.

"There! Much better!"

Hiccup blinks. "Huh? Did those not fit?"

"Nope, those fit fine. I just don't like boots."

"Do you not wear boots in the New World?"

"Can we just go already? The sun's gonna set!"

"We're not going anywhere until you put the boots back on. It's even colder up in the air. You could get frostbite!"

Jack snorts. "Please! I'm not even cold right now! And we're only gonna be up there for what? Five minutes? Ten? I'm not gonna lose my toes after ten minutes of windchill!"

Hiccup clenches his jaw before breathing out a heavy sigh. He's spent a lifetime with hardheaded people. He knows a lost argument when he sees one. "Fine, fine. What's a few toes in the grand scheme of things?"

"That's the spirit!"

Hiccup gives Toothless a tired look. Toothless has the audacity to laugh at him. Thanks, bud. Real supportive. Grabbing hold of the saddle, Hiccup hops on as easy as one, two, three. He settles himself behind Jack, and again, the contact causes Jack to flinch. The reaction is more muted this time, undoubtedly due to the guy's admirable restraint. Yet Hiccup can pick out the way Jack draws his shoulders up, his arms pressing tight against his torso, and his hands holding onto the harness with a white-knuckled grip. Every part of him is wound up tighter than a trebuchet about to fire.

"We good?" Hiccup asks.

"Yeah," Jack squeaks out.

Taking pity on the guy, Hiccup ignores the way Jack sounded like mouse just then. "Alright, let's get you strapped in."

Somehow, Jack tenses even more but he doesn't complain as Hiccup winds the belt around them both. Then Hiccup leans forward, pressing his front to Jack's back, as he grabs onto the harness. Close together like this, Hiccup could feel Jack's ribs stretch and shrink - faster and shorter with every breath.

"Everything ok-"

"Just. Fly."

Thor save Hiccup from stupidly stubborn guys. He wasn't kidding about Gothi cursing him.

"Alright. You heard the man, Toothless."

Letting out a warbling growl, the Night Fury stretches out his wings and with a click from Hiccup's prosthetic, they leap into the air.

Jack stops breathing entirely. He stops for a single, sticky second - long enough for Hiccup to start panicking. But then Toothless levels out, prompting Hiccup to adjust his tail, and just like that, they were flying.

And Jack... Jack laughs - a noisy, clumsy, heavy sound as if he needs his whole body to laugh. Hiccup has never heard anything more joyous. Toothless must share his opinion because the dragon lets out an echoing roar before barrel-rolling across the air. Jack's laughter transforms into a throaty shriek as he lets go of the harness, opening his arms wide like he's trying to embrace the sky itself.

Hiccup thanks every god he can name that he had the foresight to strap this guy onto the saddle. Jack would have slid right off from that stunt.

"Are you crazy?!" Hiccup yells, tugging hard on the harness. "Toothless, quit it! Jack, put your hands back down!"

Toothless gets the message because he straightens out neatly. Hiccup knows that the dragon is rolling his eyes. Just for that, he is sooo not getting fresh chicken tonight.

Jack breathes out a throaty chuckle before placing his hands right back on the harness. "Man, that was fun. You get to do that every day?"

It's hard to believe this was the same scared-stiff guy from earlier. From his position, Hiccup can't quite see Jack's face but he could see a world of difference in the looseness of Jack's limbs and the soft curve of his back. Somehow, Jack seems more at ease, more at peace in mid-air than he ever did on the ground.

"Yeah... I'm pretty sure Toothless would bite my head off if I didn't take him flying at least once a day. Twice if we have time."

"Wow..."

Toothless takes them up higher and further out into the ocean until the whole island could be seen. Then, as if greeting them personally, a strong Northern wind whistles by, parting the clouds and letting the sun shine a spotlight onto the busy, messy, crazy village below. From this height, Hiccup could see the sturdy perches placed by each home, the forever full feeding stations, and the comfy, customized stables. He could watch a cacophony of colored scales wing around the vikings as they went about their day - fishing, fighting, and even frolicking when they thought no one was looking.

"Oh," Jack whispers - soft and gentle and weightless with wonder.

Hiccup allows himself to smile proudly. No one could say that they had it easy these last few years, but they made it here somehow - a long way from where they started.

"Welcome to Berk."

[verdemoun]

would any of the people who didnt timewarp (mary-beth, tilly, swanson, pearson, etc) know that the others timewarped?

nope. y'know maybe it hurts, maybe they would have liked to know they were okay, but you know what? they mourned. they ached. they learned that their whole lives could change in one second: one short walk in a pretty town, one lone horse walking into shady belle, one frantic packing of camp in the middle of the night after a failed bank robbery and one decision to leave everything they knew by a cave in beaver hollow. and they healed.

they learned not to let the pain leave them broken, sure, it destroyed them, some days it felt like nothing would be okay again and they were more ghosts than people, but they learned how to let grief consume them and know things would seem okay again one day. and it was. they found better than okay - they found a new happy. because they mourned, they regretted, they forgave themselves and let themselves look for something better than dying for dutch and they found it. mary-beth wrote her novels, tilly found a new family she would never lose again, swanson re-found his faith, and pearson had his store and his own family. on days it needed to hurt, they let themselves hurt, but they learned to accept the new happiness they found after the gang. and that was more important than knowing the others were okay too

i lied mary-beth knows. well, she suspects. one night, when she was old, far older than any of them got to be, she thought she heard voices in her house. voices she knew but hadn't heard in so long she wasn't sure it was possible to recognize them. she had imagined them so many times, actually hearing their voices sounded strange

in her nightgown, with a lantern in hand - it might have been the 50s, but she always considered herself a romantic with her candle lantern on her beside table - and followed voices through her house. squabbling. she could hear two unmistakable voices squabbling

she heard wind coming through the window in her study that she definitely closed. in the dim light of a candle lantern, she saw lenny, and sean, in clothing she had never seen before, hissing at each other as lenny asked for the umpteenth time if sean was sure that's where the photograph was sitting. sean rolled his eyes and adjusted it another fraction to sit perfectly in a space in the dust that had suddenly appeared on her desk

lenny saw her, mouth hanging open, shaking sean frantically with a noticeable tremble in his hand. sean's eyes went wide, colour draining so completely from his face even his hair looked pale. and mary-beth smiled, laughing softly to herself as the image of them suddenly faded from her study. the dust was gone from her desk. the window was closed, as she'd left it. but she knew wherever they were, they were okay - and clearly death had not changed them in the slightest.

sean and lenny refuse to discuss what they saw the night they broke into shady belle to return a photo sean had stolen for kieran, but if they ever did discuss it they refuse to tell anyone. they do go quiet on later tours when the guide remarks some day shady belle is haunted.

especially as she gets older in her beautiful old house, mary-beth gets funny feelings she isn't alone. sometimes she thinks she sees hosea with a beautiful woman she can only imagine is his long-dead wife bessie in his arms, walking the hallways and marveling at the fine crown molding she had put in. sometimes she thinks she sees arthur standing at the bookshelf, with his typical pretending he's not interested stare as his fingers run over the hardcover spines. sometimes she looks out the window and swears she can see kieran sitting in the garden, and she knows deep down they're happy

[everygame]

Alter Ego (Apple Macintosh)

Developed/Published by: Peter J. Favaro / Activision Released: 27/04/1986 Completed: 21/11/2023 Completion: Died of old age in my bed, single, but a millionaire. Little Richard’s “Thinkin’ About My Mother” was playing on the radio as I played. “I swear I'm gonna love her… Yes, until the day I die.”

Alter Ego is a dated, sexist mess that basically doesn’t work at all.

I am so fond of it.

One of those games I found in my earliest forays on the internet, digging around for “abandonware” Alter Ego was immediately interesting to my teenage self–a game that let you live an entire life! Sure, it did it in a text-only, choose-your-own-adventure style, but I was already fiddling around with Infocom games and it wasn’t that many years out from owning an Amstrad CPC; the limitations had no effect upon the promise I imagined.

The interesting thing about when I played it then is that I remember playing it into Young Adulthood and never further. Until now I couldn’t remember why. Did I get bored? Was I overwhelmed with options?

Well, here’s a hint. Alter Ego was designed in 1986 by Peter J. Favaro, a psychologist who at the time was just 28 years old (which I am forced to admit is younger than I am now.) It becomes very quickly clear that past a certain point he doesn’t know what the fuck he’s talking about.

But let’s take a step back here and discuss how Alter Ego actually works. Really it’s one of the earliest examples of a hypertext game (it actually predates Hypercard, if you can believe it.) You progress through seven stages of life from infancy to old age, and in each, you progress through a kind of… card map? choosing cards which each contain a vignette where you have to make a few decisions–if you’re a toddler, do you share your toys? If you’re a teenager, do you act sulky to your parents when they won’t let you do what you want? And then have that effect your stats and have time pass as a result.

As the game progresses, it adds several cards that you can flip over whenever you feel like it. A card that lets you try and meet people, or have experiences with your current partner, for example. A card that lets you make big purchases that you might have to pay off with a loan. 

The goal in Alter Ego is, simply, to… see what happens, and it’s here that the game’s highest pleasures and greatest mistakes are found. I decided to play this via a classic Mac emulator (as I believe that Favaro created this on a Mac) and although I originally played this on PC, the convergence of playing this via a system that I haven’t touched since I was at high school made the early sequences of this game a brush with nostalgia I haven’t felt before. The game is at its highest when you get to in some ways relive, but not quite, the past.

Like most people who play this (at least the first time) I chose to play it making the kind of decision I would make, as best I could, at the time I’d make them, and each experience was a moment of–oh, remember when something like this happened? 

It’s not perfect. Designed in 1986 by a young, white American, there’s this strange sense of re-living your life by way of “Leave It To Beaver” even if, like me, you only know the reference second or third hand. Personally I looked at it as asking: what if I’d gone to an American high school and lived my John Hughes dreams? The game was developed in the same era, I watched The Breakfast Club as a teenager around the same time I was messing around with abandonware and using classic Macs at school... it all intertwines.

And really, if the game had stayed there, I think it could have worked. A kind of… growing up simulator. Add lots of different vignettes, not all which play every time, and then the player plays until they leave college and the game goes “congratulations! You became a CORN FARMER. You married ONE wife and had SIX children. Your dog is called JEFF.”

Sadly, it does not do that, and it becomes pretty clear that Favaro didn’t really have a clear plan or concept for how adulthood was going to work. Childhood and Adolescence, after all, are fairly clear cut. You have to go to school, your parents take care of most other responsibilities. From a western, middle-class perspective, you’ll mostly have the same kind of experiences. As an adult however, all kinds of things can happen at all stages of life. 

It goes wrong immediately. You can go to college, but there’s no clear pay-off, you never seem to graduate! Jobs are just… something you have. Purchases and money quickly turn out to be totally meaningless (there may be a fail-state if you run out of money with huge debts, but I didn’t see it.)

The problem is that Favaro is forced to flatten everything into the most generic experiences once he reaches adulthood as the biggest decisions we make in our lives–who to partner with, our careers–cannot really interact with the canned vignettes of the main path. The box art is like “become a baseball player or a nun!” but even if you could the actual experience is “what if you were a white collar worker in the 1980s” as your nun deals with getting chewed out by their boss and refused a promotion or whatever.

In many ways it’s simply a fault of coming so early. A modern game in even just Twine can far more easily modify its text based on the information you’ve given it, and more easily offer events that either relate to your stats and relationships. In many other ways, it’s the fault of the culture that Favaro lived in and which, sadly, he could not see beyond. I played the “Male” version, and attitudes to women are beyond poor; many later vignettes are basically Penthouse letters (actually, another American reference I only know second hand, I swear) and one vignette featuring your discovery that a friend is gay is… er… not good.

It’s made even weirder by how… judgemental the game’s “narrator” (read: Favaro) is when it comments on your decisions. He definitely has an idea how you should be living your life, and hell mend you for not following it.

All that said, however, there’s still some amusement and possibly revealing moments to be had in the later stages of the game. I for one was surprised by my complete inability to maintain a steady relationship and how borderline panicked I got as I aged about it! It seems like it might be fairly random, which makes how unforgiving it is almost hilarious: I had been living with a woman for years, we’d invested in a company and became millionaires, at least according to one vignette I got on amazing with her son from another marriage… I popped the question and she said no because I was “untrustworthy.” Relationship over.

I probably should have indulged less in those Penthouse letters vignettes… It was… research. For this article. Yeah. Not just because playing this made me feel like a teenager again and the teenager I was would have made all those decisions.

Anyway. As much as Alter Ego doesn’t work, what stands out about it is what stands out about, say, an Infocom game. The text-based nature of it draws you in as deeply as a book, and it simply engages the imagination to make the game something more than it is. I can see Floyd in Planetfall, and I can see my weird picket-fences middle-America alternate life here. For weaving that sort of magic, it does deserve some respect. Just don’t take it too seriously.

Will I ever play it again? As I expressed above, I’ve only ever played the Male version, and the Female version is supposed to have a series of bug-fixes and less instant-death situations, but far, far more sexism. I might take a look at it, but even if I don’t I can imagine noodling on this again, at least as a mirror into memory.

Final Thought: Worth noting that you don’t have to take my word on this game, it can easily be played in-browser, which is probably fine if you don’t have a dense, multi-layered nostalgia attached to it. Support Every Game I’ve Finished on ko-fi! You can pick up a digital copy of exp. 2600, a zine featuring all-exclusive writing at my shop, or join as a supporter at just $1 a month and get articles like this a week early.

[dinosaurnostalgia]

The Crazy Pachy Lady

If someone asked me what my favourite dinosaur is (...and not what my favourite prehistoric animal is, therefore forcing me to choose from just Dinosauria...), I'd have to say it's probably Pachycephalosaurus.

After taking the group shot I realized I had forgotten to include my De Agostini Pachy. She's made of such a cheap and flimsy rubber that she can't stand on her own.

Pachys weren't that popular among dino toy producers when I was a kid. Well, there were many dinosaurs that I saw plenty of pics of in my dinosaur books but saw in toy form rarely. Crested hadrosaurs (with the exception of Paras that you did see occasionally). Orhithomimids. Small noodly carnivores like Compys. And Pachys. I've always loved their dragon-like skulls, there's just something majestic about them and I find them more interesting than the Big Four that you see most often in dino toys (the Big Four being large carnivores, sauropods, Trikes and Stegos). It wasn't until the Jurassic Park sequel introduced Pachys in Lost World, that Pachy toys started to become more popular.

These two were the only Pachy toys I had as a kid. I was very disappointed with the green one, because it looked nothing like the pictures in my books, it's bald head has barely any crown of spikes around it and in general, it looked pretty awful. But for the longest time it was the only Pachy in my toy box. Then one christmas I received the brown toy on the left. I call her Patchouli.

Dino Riders were an big part of my childhood and I will be eventually writing more about them, both about the toy line and the series. But for now, I want to talk about Patchouli. I loved Dino Rider toys, with their beautiful glass eyes the animals looked more lifelike and less "monstrous" than many of the dinosaur toys in my toy box. The second series of toys introduced the Pachy and I wished it for christmas. I have forgotten about many toys I received as gifts but few stand out and I remember so vividly teh moment of opening the box with Patchouli and seeing her through the clear plastic window of her packaging.

Patchouli remains to this day my favourite Pachy toy. I love her colours, her noble-looking golden eyes, her beautiful stubby horns, I love how much she resembles the illustrations in my childhood books, the pictures that I admired but could never have in toy form until that christmas. I also like that unlike many newer Pachy toys, her feet are pretty small and she still balances just fine even when lowered into a headbutting pose. There are way too many new Pachy toys out there with enormous clown feet just to make them stand. The only thing that seems a bit odd about Patchouli is her tail, which is flat like a beaver's. I think it must be designed so in order to balance the weight so that she can stand in balance even when she's wearing her armor.

Now, after talking about the most beautiful Pachy toy I own, I must also talk about the ugliest one.

Demon Pachy will eat your soul!

I call her Glasya-Labolas, after my favourite Goetic demon. I don't usually buy large dino toys, I prefer the smaller ones that are easier to scale with one another and store. But when I saw Glasya-Labolas for sale on eBay, I had to get her.

Who designed this thing? Why are her eyes blood-red? Why is her throat covered in blood? Why does she remind my wife of E.T.? I don't know. But in all of her hideousness I can't help but like her. I imagine my Pachy herd summoning this demonic Pachy in the dark of the night, praying for protection against carnivores.

[weirdthoughtsandideas]

So I have not seen Human Resources nor Big Mouth, could you explain the creatures to me?

Sure! So, all of these creatures basically manage people in their everyday life, and in Big Mouth we focus on the human’s sides of things while in Human Resources, we see the creatures in their everyday life.

There are the hormone monsters, which are pretty much monsters that are horny 24/7. They are out for simply making people touch themselves or have sex with each other - in Big Mouth, we follow a bunch of middle school students going through puberty and the hormone monsters help them navigate that with everything that comes with it.

Then there’s love bugs, which basically are these… well, insects that just are all for love and romance. They want romantic gestures, they love the ideal love stories and just sees the world as a romcom. But they are not just for romantic love, platonic love too, and love for objects. There was also one instance where the love a person felt was for his cat and the assigned love bug was there for that reason. However, love bugs can at any point turn into

hate worms, which is worms that just run on hate. As you can imagine, if you for example get assigned a lovebug and they turn into a hateworm, you’re fucked. At the same time, if you get assigned a hateworm at a hateful time in your life, your life will be more loveful if they turn into a lovebug. Both love bugs and hate worms have their positive sides and negative sides. Love bugs for example can have too much optimism sometimes, even if they always want to make your life positive, while hate worms are careless and wants you to get rid of everyone, but they can also help you get through some tough situations.

There’s the anxiety mosquito that I legit wonder is just one and the same mosquito multiplying. Basically self explanatory. Is there to make you anxious asf

The shame wizards are there to give you shame for your actions. Basically is there to make you feel bad, though at the same time can help you from going too far in some situations.

Logic rocks are there to basically talk sense into people. However, they can sometimes be stiff and can crash with other creatures, particularly lovebugs and hormone monsters who act on feelings, while logic rocks act on thinking and, well, logic.

Ambition gremlins help you to achieve your goals in life. They make you work hard, you have to earn it. They help everyone from business people to suceed in their careers, to helping teenagers choose the right college for their futures, and in one instance, an ambition gremlin helped a 4 year old nonverbal child to communicate that he really wanted a toy truck (with the help with hope… oh, speaking of!)

Hope is… well this creature that gives hope to people. She’s very cool, she has discoballs as boobs.

Depression kitties are these violet cats that manage you under depression. They can be milder, and they can be quite heavy. One cat for example sits on top of you so that you can’t get out of bed. Depression can also grow and shrink depending on the human’s actions and their overall mental health.

Addiction angels are there when you have an addiction to something. This ofc includes drugs, but the only person we’ve seen been addicted has been a dude who was addicted to pop tarts.

Need demons are demons that exaggerate human people’s needs and goes on rampages until the needs are fullfilled. We’ve seen this creature assigned to a newborn baby, a pregnant woman and, while we never saw him in action then, we also saw a need demon assigned to the nonverbal 4 year old, which makes sense. Also, with the pregnant woman, once she gave birth to her baby, her need demon shrinks to a little straw basically, because as a new mother she has to put her own needs at the side to fullfill the needs of her baby.

Then there’s the grief sweater, that’s a sweater that helps you during grief. Keith from Grief is awesome.

There’s also creatures mentioned that we never see, like a bladder beaver and a self harm walrus (very glad they have not included the latter).

There’s also the DNApe that is just this ape explaining DNA in humans. I am not sure about his function other than that. There was also an ambition armadillo they showed, but I have not seen them since. Idk if they replaced it with an ambition gremlin or if it was just an armadillo that also was working in ambition. Oh, and there’s this frog in big mouth that goes around showing gratitude, so that’s another creature.

I’ve definitely forgotten a creature lol. But that’s a majority of them.

[leavesfromthesametree]

9. Jonni Price Visitor experience manager, RSPB Conwy Photographed by Matt Horwood

Tell us something about yourself that nobody else knows. Um. I can lick my elbow? Which most people think is impossible… so it’s a great way of winning free drinks!

What do you enjoy doing in your own time?  I’m a keen birder with a love for invertebrates too, so if I’m not at RSPB Conwy, I’m usually on another reserve somewhere birdwatching, chasing butterflies or diving in ponds! I’m mad about football too, and also enjoy running, camping, fishing and gardening.

Tell us a bit about your work as a visitor expperience manager? What do you love most about it? I’m involved in all aspects of visitor experience at RSPB Conwy. From events planning and social media, to signage, interpretation and more! I’m passionate about making sure that the reserve is a place for both wildlife and people; creating opportunities for our visitors to connect with nature, and inspiring the next generation to care for wildlife and the environment too.

If you had to pick one thing, what are you most passionate about? My last point above is one which I feel particularly strongly about, and is probably the aspect I enjoy the most about my job too. Inspiring people (especially young people) about nature, through hands-on experiences… and science! I began my career with the RSPB at Conwy as a volunteer education intern (AKA professional pond-dipper!) back in 2016, helping to lead school visits on the reserve. I lead similar activities with families and youth groups etc. in my current role, but I will still never tire of seeing the eyes of a child light up at their first sight of a dragonfly nymph, or their first stroke of a smooth newt!

What makes you angry?  In the middle of a nature climate emergency, where should I start? I suppose the sheer ignorance of the natural world, and absence of care which many people seem to be capable of these days. Particularly when those people are in power, and are in control of what state the environment will be for generations to come.

If you could change one thing about the world, what would it be? Hm. Just ‘one thing’ feels a bit limited! Could I change the decade we’re in instead? That way we could see a lot of the changes I feel that we now need, already in place. And we could (hopefully) avoid ending up in the mess that we are today! Without certain technological and industrial advances, people simply had to be more connected to their environment and in tune with the natural world. And with wildlife like wild boars, beavers and wolves roaming our woodlands, the world was a little bit wilder too! Do you feel connected to nature and/or wildlife and if so, tell us a bit about when you first found an interest or felt connected. Absolutely. I feel that I always have been, from a young age anyway. Since sitting on the banks of fishing lakes with my grandad watching dragonflies dance, and tending to the allotment with my grandma collecting caterpillars and creating ponds. I used to catch bugs in the garden and nearby fields for hours on end, pot them all up and sit for hours with a book identifying as many as possible. Some would then get transferred to tanks and jars in my ‘museum’ (bedroom), where I would charge entrance fees to see them! As you can imagine, my mum and dad weren’t always amused by this, and I my arachnophobic sister wasn’t too fond either. Despite this though, they never stopped me being a bug nerd and encouraged me in all I did… even if it did result in the occasional escaped insect emergency! *** 9. Jonni Price Rheolwr ymweliadau, RSPB Conwy Llun gan Matt Horwood

Dywedwch rywbeth amdanoch eich hun nad oes neb arall yn ei wybod. Um. Gallaf lyfu fy mhenelin? Pa un sy’n amhosib ym marn y rhan fwyaf o bobl… felly mae’n ffordd wych o ennill diodydd am ddim!

Beth ydych chi'n mwynhau ei wneud yn eich amser eich hun? Rydw i’n adarwr brwd gyda chariad at infertebratau hefyd, felly os nad ydw i yn RSPB Conwy, rydw i fel arfer ar warchodfa arall yn rhywle yn gwylio adar, yn erlid glöynnod byw neu’n deifio mewn pyllau! Dw i’n wallgof am bêl-droed hefyd, a hefyd yn mwynhau rhedeg, gwersylla, pysgota a garddio.

Dywedwch ychydig wrthym am eich gwaith fel rheolwr ymweliadau? Beth ydych chi'n ei garu fwyaf amdano? Rwy’n ymwneud â phob agwedd ar brofiad ymwelwyr yn RSPB Conwy. O gynllunio digwyddiadau a chyfryngau cymdeithasol, i arwyddion, dehongli a mwy! Rwy’n frwd dros sicrhau bod y warchodfa yn lle i fywyd gwyllt a phobl; creu cyfleoedd i’n hymwelwyr gysylltu â byd natur, ac ysbrydoli’r genhedlaeth nesaf i ofalu am fywyd gwyllt a’r amgylchedd hefyd.

Pe bai'n rhaid i chi ddewis un peth, beth ydych chi'n angerddol amdano fwyaf? Mae fy mhwynt olaf uchod yn un yr wyf yn teimlo'n arbennig o gryf yn ei gylch, ac mae'n debyg mai dyma'r agwedd rwy'n ei mwynhau fwyaf am fy swydd hefyd. Ysbrydoli pobl (yn enwedig pobl ifanc) am fyd natur, trwy brofiadau ymarferol… a gwyddoniaeth! Dechreuais fy ngyrfa gyda’r RSPB yng Nghonwy fel intern addysg wirfoddol (AKA trochwr pwll proffesiynol!) nôl yn 2016, gan helpu i arwain ymweliadau ysgol â’r warchodfa. Rwy'n arwain gweithgareddau tebyg gyda theuluoedd a grwpiau ieuenctid ac ati yn fy rôl bresennol, ond ni fyddaf byth yn blino o hyd o weld llygaid plentyn yn goleuo ar eu golwg cyntaf o was y neidr, neu eu strôc gyntaf o fadfall lefn!

Beth sy'n eich gwylltio? Yng nghanol argyfwng hinsawdd natur, ble ddylwn i ddechrau? Tybiwn yr anwybodaeth pur am y byd naturiol, a'r diffyg gofal y mae llawer o bobl yn ymddangos yn alluog i'w wneud y dyddiau hyn. Yn enwedig pan fydd y bobl hynny mewn grym, ac yn rheoli pa gyflwr fydd yr amgylchedd am genedlaethau i ddod.

Pe gallech chi newid un peth am y byd, beth fyddai hwnnw? Hm. Dim ond ‘un peth’ sy’n teimlo braidd yn gyfyngedig! A gaf i newid y degawd yr ydym ynddo yn lle hynny? Y ffordd honno gallem weld llawer o'r newidiadau yr wyf yn teimlo sydd eu hangen arnom yn awr, sydd eisoes ar waith. Ac fe allen ni (gobeithio) osgoi diweddu yn y llanast yr ydym ni heddiw! Heb rai datblygiadau technolegol a diwydiannol penodol, yn syml iawn roedd yn rhaid i bobl fod yn fwy cysylltiedig â'u hamgylchedd ac yn unol â'r byd naturiol. A chyda bywyd gwyllt fel baeddod gwyllt, afancod a bleiddiaid yn crwydro ein coetiroedd, roedd y byd ychydig yn fwy gwyllt hefyd!

Ydych chi'n teimlo'n gysylltiedig â natur a/neu fywyd gwyllt ac os felly, dywedwch ychydig wrthym am pryd y daethoch o hyd i ddiddordeb gyntaf neu pan wnaethoch deimlo cysylltiad. Yn hollol. Teimlaf fy mod wedi bod erioed, o oedran ifanc beth bynnag. Ers eistedd ar lan llynnoedd pysgota gyda fy nhaid yn gwylio gweision y neidr yn dawnsio, a gofalu am y rhandir gyda fy mam-gu yn hel lindys a chreu pyllau. Roeddwn i'n arfer dal trychfilod yn yr ardd a'r caeau cyfagos am oriau o'r diwedd, eu potio nhw i gyd ac eistedd am oriau gyda llyfr yn adnabod cymaint â phosib. Byddai rhai wedyn yn cael eu trosglwyddo i danciau a jariau yn fy ‘amgueddfa’ (ystafell wely), lle byddwn yn codi tâl mynediad i’w gweld! Fel y gallwch ddychmygu, nid oedd fy mam a dad bob amser yn cael eu difyrru gan hyn, a doeddwn i ddim yn fy chwaer arachnoffobig yn rhy hoff chwaith. Serch hynny, nid oeddent byth yn fy atal rhag bod yn nerd pryfaid ac yn fy annog ym mhopeth a wnes … hyd yn oed pe bai'n arwain at ambell argyfwng pryfed a ddihangodd!

[promiseiwillwrite]

Start where you are at

In my mind's eye, I imagined a small clearing in a tall dense stand of Douglas Fir trees, not unlike the one behind my house. I imagined finding a place with a carpet of moss, and I took a shovel, and I dug a hole, twice as wide as it was deep. I filled the hole with Gravel, and I lined the circle with rocks.

I built a platform and laid a fire, and lit it. Once it no longer needed tending, I imagined a red door, standing on the edge of the clearing. The door was like the door to my imagined safe place, wreathed with stones and Ivy, and rounded at the top.

Then I imagined a small door in my own chest, and I took it out of my chest and it sprang to full size, across the fire from the other door, and made of birch bark.

I set my intent. I wanted to call to entities that could help me learn, know, and understand my desires.

And by entities, I mean everything. Great and small, Animal Vegetable, concept, element, god, man, dead or alive, flora, fauna fungi or bacterium, friend, foe or neither. From out in the world, or from within myself, hence the two doors.

I was ready for whatever came.

I put a cylindrical log on the other side of the fire from me, as a seat.

And then I called.

And the Red Door came open a little. I saw a flash of damp brown fur, and then it was gone. And a little field mouse came through the crack made by the other creature. I think it was a beaver.

The field mouse I have worked with before. And they told me that they had been important to my grandmother, and my inner child. They once came to me, to warn me that something I had started wasn't actually finished, but I didn't know what the word "perfunctory" meant at the time, so the message didn't get through.

And after this moment of reminisce, I asked what the mouse had come to help me to understand.

"Fear." it said.

"Not every fear in your mind comes at you like a lion. Some fears can be very small, but very powerful, and they drive you, just the same. Your Fears interfere with your desires, insisting some desires are Okay while others are Not."

These words made a lot of sense. And seemed like something that a mouse would know a great deal about. Fear would be absolutely indispensable for the survival of such a creature. But Perhaps it should not play such a role for a human.

Perhaps I have placed too much importance on some fears, and perhaps I should step back from those fears to see what shows up.

The first thing that came up for me was my sexuality. Because I've essentially walled it off. There are so many conflicting desires I have that are completely unreasonable given the constraints of my current relationship and what I am and am not willing to do with my time. I wanted the desires to just go away. Because I know I don't have to feel them. But I have recently seen that this is just denial. It doesn't feel right because it isn't. Yes, there is less inner conflict, but cutting off this part of myself and never touching it again probably isn't the right answer when I have imaginative capacities I can use to fill those needs in a positive and quality way.

I think I also need to talk about this stuff with my partner. I've NOT talked about it with my partner because there is literally Nothing actionable in it for them. But I shouldn't be afraid to talk about it. It's not like I will be punished for it.

Not a bad start, I wasn't expecting to get right to something so important on the first day.

Thank you, mouse.

[mirekat]

Okay all right since you asked here’s why I think it is not inherently insane to enjoy “Move Along Home”: 

First off, it’s ridiculous. Let’s get that out of the way right now. I happen to like ridiculousness in my Star Trek, so an episode being fundamentally dumb as hell in no way puts me off.

What I DO care about, to an obnoxious degree, is an episode’s politics. Politics in the capacious sense: how is this episode situated within the world of the franchise and within our world, what social narratives is it challenging or reifying, deliberately or inadvertently? And on that front? “Move Along Home” interests me. 

See, a lot of the standard snark about it--even from the showrunners--boils down to “they weren’t in any danger, so what was the point?” And my take is, the fact that they weren’t in any danger is the point. Falow never claims that losing pieces in the game means losing players in real life. That’s entirely Quark’s and Odo’s assumption, based on the ridiculous violence they’ve been subjected to on a regular basis since Starfleet moved in and, I would imagine, the pattern of random, spectacular, gratuitous terror the Cardassians deployed as a display of sovereignty. And we as viewers assume that Quark’s and Odo’s perception is accurate because we, too, regard ridiculous violence as part of the Star Trek status quo. We’ve internalized that narrative, that expectation of tension and release-when-it-all-works-out. So if we’re disappointed when it doesn’t resolve the way we expect it to, that IS, in fact, a point.   

And I think the episode sets this up with the cold open of Sisko fussing over his “official” First Contact ceremony. He’s still early in his command here, and shouldering a level of responsibility Starfleet brass made perfectly clear they never wanted him to have, so the fussing makes sense. And the Wadi prove totally uninterested in what the command staff (and we viewers) of as momentous. We expect “Darmok and Jalad at Tanagra” and we get “where are the games?” 

Then, too, there’s one of my favorite early-season Kira lines: “I’m a Bajoran administrator. This is NOT what I signed up for!” In substance, it deeply informs the way I read Kira’s character. Even more than Odo and Quark, her life has been shaped by violence--grinding, everyday, inescapable violence--and there’s no thrill in it for her. She’s actually passionate about things like docking schedules, because that’s what Bajoran sovereignty looks like. And I love that. I love it when someone says something fetishistic about her martial prowess and she looks them in the eye and is just like, yes, but I chose to be a bureaucrat (see also: “Return to Grace.”) So I love the way she serves as Sisko’s foil this episode, first in the first-contact scenario, then, later, as they work to get Dax out of the cave.

Anyway, look, I will never suggest that “Move Along Home” is An Good Episode. Yes the premise is wild and yes the dialogue is leaden and yes the main cast chews their way through the incongruously expensive-looking sets like a bunch of beavers with an Adderall habit but. BUT. Season 1′s Good Episodes are good because they unpick assumptions about what the Federation is, and what Star Trek is. And “Move Along Home” is a meaningful contribution to that project, space mullets and all.  

[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.