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duckling-duck-duck · 4 years ago

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Midnight Sun Review, Chapter 1: First Sight (Why am I doing this?)

Hello people and welcome to my side blog specifically dedicated to my thoughts, feeling and opinions on Midnight Sun by Stephenie Meyer. It’s not like I have anything better to do at the moment (studying for exams, a semester to prepare for, friendships to cultivate) so let’s get to it!

Before I get started on informing you of said thoughts, feelings and opinions, here are a few disclaimers and other things you should probably know to follow my thought process and that will likely have an influence both on my reading experience and view of this book. For my inspiration for this undertaking, you all can thank both Hannah Lee Kidder for her excellent rewrites of the first book on YouTube (she is awesome, go check her out) and Strange Aeons for her video review of Midnight Sun, which I would also highly recommend.

When I heard that Stephenie Meyer (from now on referred to as SM, yes) finally was going to publish this mysterious thing that was circulating when I was barely a teenager and just starting my Twilight phase, and still seriously interested in the books, I was both over the moon and very apprehensive. And I knew immediately that I was going to buy and read it, no matter how bad or good it was going to be.

This YA fiction series was a huge part of my early formative years. At the time when I first read it, I was still too young to thoroughly grasp some of the more problematic concepts of the story, which has since changed. It got me into vampires, to an obsessive and, frankly, unhealthy amount. I subsequently read literature that was NOT for the eyes of a thirteen-year-old at the time and at the same time much worse fanfiction.

Another probably important thing is that I did not read the original Twilight series in English, but rather in German, which means that some things I may remember differently due to translation. I included this because the way Germans translate English in books is atrocious. I have never re-read the books after I read them for the first time, only watched the movies a couple of times since, mostly to make fun of them, this time in English. When the fourth movie came out, I was already mostly over Twilight again and just went to the theatre with my best friend for the hell of it. The only characters I was invested in at this point were the side characters, like Jasper, Rosalie, Leah Clearwater and, basically, anyone and everyone that wasn’t Edward, Bella and Jacob (mostly because everyone else had a much more compelling storyline). So please bear that in mind when I rip into this book. I will also probably be biased in favour of these characters.

This brings me to my last but probably the most important point: I had no interest in Edward and Bella and mostly wanted to know what kind of mess they ended up in this time. I made fun of them a lot. The older I got, the more of the unhealthy tendencies I recognized. So, this is my official warning for everyone who is genuinely interested in this book and wants to read it for fun and came across this post by accident: It will not be nice. I will probably not be kind. I like sarcasm and am not afraid to utilize it to get across exactly how dumb, deranged or practically pointless I think something is. I like to think I can give credit where it is due, but this is probably not the blog or post for you.

I will include trigger warnings if necessary, but if I miss anything please do not hesitate to let me know and/or stop reading immediately if it makes you uncomfortable. I am open to discussion and criticism, but please remain civil. And now that introduction has gone on for far too long, so please enjoy.

Chapter Summary: What happened?

We start with Edward in class having an existential crisis which seems to be his default state. He comments on his siblings, reducing them to absolute tropes which anyone who has read the original series later knows is not at all what and/or who they are. Practically anyone is more interesting than him, though that is not a high bar. Then we have lunch period (still wild you have that) where everyone else is thinking of the new girl who is still nothing amazing to him. Edward spews some vapid comments about everyone else in school (the word “children” comes to mind and is frequently used) and is very amused that particularly the female population, except for Angela, seems to be interested in him. After that, we get the famous biology scene from a whole other point of view and boy is it enjoyable! We end the chapter with Edward going to Alaska because otherwise he may or may not break into Charlie’s house to kill the daughter of the chief of police. (I rewrote this summary like, five times and still cannot make it less sarcastic. I apologize.) (#sorrynotsorry)

Warnings: Swearing, a lot. Explicit language. Too many parentheses. Slight description of violence. A lot of talk about murder.

It took me two evenings getting through this first chapter (25 pages total) and I am not going to lie: On the first one, I barely managed to make it 5 pages in before I had to stop and lie down and mentally prepare myself for the things that were to come. And lord, did they come!

If you thought being stuck in Bella’s mind was exhausting, welcome to a new level of it. Because Edward is even more self-deprecating than she is. He literally describes his basically vegetative state as purgatory because high school is just that boring. Granted, it sometimes is, but why even is he in high school then? As mentioned later he has 2 doctorate degrees. Could you just not go to university and study something that you haven’t learned yet? If Rosalie, Emmett and Jasper can pass as seniors (and you have to excuse me, but I know practically nothing of the American school system) then I am sure you can pull some kind of ‘gifted’ scheme to put Edward in either advanced classes or have him skip a few years. And fake a High School diploma. Another question: if he has two doctorates, why doesn’t he do something with them? You could apply your mind and focus on other things, like research, furthering humanity, curing cancer! (On that note: why has Carlisle not tried to do that? Just because you need to fly under the radar? There has got to be something you can do, both with your excessive money and apparently brilliant mind, that would benefit all of humanity that you so desperately try not to hurt. And if not personally, you can damn-well fund it or nudge someone in the right direction.)

But this doesn’t just tell us that Edward is bored out of his mind, it also tells us that he is probably unhappy with his non-life as well. In the first four sentences, we have already set the tone for the entire novel and I am contemplating a descent into alcoholism. It is gonna be excruciating to follow this dude’s mind for 756 pages because that is 755 pages too long. His entire existence revolves around making Carlisle proud and proving he still retains some of his humanity. While he sometimes talks about the love he has for his siblings, that seems more of a farce he upholds for his adoptive father (read: god) and mother, which in her case is more of a ‘can’t deal with her disappointed look’ (we all know the one), because besides Alice his opinion of them is basically ‘couldn’t be bothered to give a shit’.

(I wanted to use a gif of her but this was the first thing that popped up when I searched "rosalie" and ngl, it fits his perception of her perfectly)

Rosalie, in his opinion, is shallow, self-obsessed, and superior the everyone (“her mind was a stagnant pool with few surprises”). These two do not get along whatsoever and while this may have been my initial impression of her in Twilight it changed over time. She is more than that and it is baffling that Edward thinks of her that way even after all this time. They are familiar with each other’s stories and I find it hard to believe that he would do anything nice for her based on the initial impression we are presented within this book. Or maybe she now has almost everything she wants: a loving partner, a family, a comfortable life. Why is it so bad? She seems to be comfortable and even happy. Can Edward just not accept that other people might not despise this life as much as he does?

Emmett gets away slightly better than Rosalie, but not much. The impression I got of him from reading his paragraph is that he is an overgrown, glorified child. He has no problem with Edward reading his thoughts, specifically because he carries his heart on his sleeve and if he has something to say, he will say it to your face. He seems to be Edwards second favourite of his siblings.

His absolute favourite is Alice, because “it wasn’t easy, being the freaks among those who were already freaks.” If Bella and Jasper weren’t in the picture, those two would be a couple, I swear! They are the extra special snowflakes (derogatory) among the already special snowflakes (derogatory) (So sorry!). They look out for each other; I can already tell you that they will present a united front concerning anything and everything and ask each other favours (like Alice wanting Edward to keep an eye on Jasper to make sure he doesn’t go on a murdering spree because he’s hungry).

Coincidentally, Edward is pretty mad at her for focusing on her husband/boyfriend/SO and his trip down the serial killer lane in a public high school that she, later on, doesn’t catch a glimpse of Edwards violent fantasies and his possible future with his fangs in Bella’s neck. He seems to be pretty salty about that. I get that for Edward this is probably pretty damning, especially since this is not a regular occurrence, but has the thought crossed his mind that, right now, she has other priorities? Or that this future simply will not come to pass and that is the reason she hasn’t seen it? I am not familiar with how it works in the books (like I said, ages) but in the movies sometimes she gets the visions automatically without focusing and they are dependent on a person’s intent.

Back to Jasper then. And oh, Jasper. They did my boy dirty.

Well, technically not, because he has a much harder time living among humans than the others. But SM did not have to write Edward so dismissive of his struggles. To quote: “And Jasper was … suffering. I suppressed a sigh.” If this is so hard for him, why does he have to be there at all? They can’t always count on Edward and Alice to monitor him like a toddler. It would be far more efficient to just keep him away from humans. Also, and this is something that I have snapchatted to my friends several times and no one has yet come up with a concrete answer for me: You know how half the population is female? And how there are art-classes and PE and probably a school nurse? Accidents happen (I cannot tell you how often my friend had a spontaneous nosebleed in the middle of history class) and PMS is a thing. There will be a girl on her period when Jasper hasn’t fed in a long time. He’s not gonna avoid it by any stretch of the world by being in school. Have him stay home with Esme and work more in smaller steps.

“Why flirt with disaster?” If you can say that in response to Jasper having fantasies about drinking the blood of one of his classmates which starts with what is an exhibitionist-inclined make-out, why can’t you stay away from Bella? Because let me tell you: the best scene in this chapter was Edwards’s mind working out how to best kill his entire biology class just so he can rip open the new student and afterwards he doesn’t take his advice and cannot stay the fuck away. To his credit though, he tries. For like, half a chapter.

Until that point, where he smelled her, Bella was entirely mundane and uninteresting. He’s seen her in the minds of other students and the cafeteria and the most remarkable thing about her is that he can’t read her mind. He is very dismissive of it: “Not that I would find anything worth listening to.” So yeah, she doesn’t particularly strike his fancy or frankly, his interest.

But then she steps into the airflow that full-on blows her scent into his face and I have no words, except damn! And from that on we get the seven and a half most enjoyable pages of this chapter (dare I say the whole book?), the murder fantasies. What does it say about this book that this is the best scene so far? I found it quite well written to be honest. How he changes his second plan midway through the first because there are too many instances of the others screaming for help or alerting everyone else and, most importantly, Bellas body would grow cold while he snaps about 19 necks in 5 seconds. He is, for a monster without control, very methodical in his imaginary attempts to murder his class. Him thinking he has to destroy evidence, figuring out how he could best and most efficiently go about it, ultimately not relishing the killing but seeing it as the removal of an obstacle – I am getting some serious Hannibal vibes.

Of course, the thing holding him back is Carlisle and how Edward knows that his adoptive father would forgive him for this, because “he thought I was better than I was”. Only Edward being a stubborn bitch and wanting to prove something to Carlisle keeps around 20 people alive that day.

While I think the scene is incredible, it still rubs me the wrong way in a particular aspect: Edward has a raging fang-boner (pardon my French) for Bella and has the gall to judge Jasper simply because for him that is a permanent state of being. If anything, it makes me have a lot more respect for Jasper (and we can get into the confederate army major thing another time, I am aware of that) because he hasn’t ripped open someone’s bowels. But that isn’t where I was going with this. Edward only takes an interest in Bella because she smells like ecstasy to him. Because his instincts attract him to a meal so scrumptious, he’s never gonna forget it again. What a great start for a relationship! Also, he hates her because of her scent and this somehow keeps him sane. I either do not get boys in general or Edward Cullen specifically. Probably both.

It also takes him waaay too long to stop breathing. (And I know that he uses the phrase “sinking my teeth through that fine, thin, see-through skin to the hot, wet, pulsing-” to describe her neck, but I have read too much horribly/well-written E-rated fanfics on AO3 to not think of a vagina when I read this.)

And even after he has resolved to not abduct and kill the new student, he still fantasizes about doing it. Like I said, reading his fantasies is pretty enjoyable, but why did SM have to give them to us in the first chapter? Nothing in this book is gonna compare to this description ever again and I am sad about it. I know, who’d have thought?

Then we get to the part where he thinks about following her to her house because to kill her there is “the responsible way to deal with this”. Excuse me? Oh man, still really enjoyable to read, but now I am genuinely scared for Bella!

Because this is not just very detailed, but also very thought out. I am not sure if SM decided to ramp up the fear-factor for Edward because while everyone theoretically knows that he could snap a neck with his pinkie, the thirst was very much real about a decade ago and everyone just kinda glossed over the fact that Edward is a killing-machine. Not sure if Bella wouldn’t take Jacobs concerns regarding sex with a vampire while she was still human a little more seriously if she knew that was how her husband thought about her when they met. Is this supposed to entice me or turn me on? Not that it ever could in general, because Edward, but after that description, I am very much turned off, actually, and not at all receptive to this dude and want to tell Bella to run for the hills or La Push and never come back. This is, good writing aside, disturbing!

After class, he heads out in his car and listens to calming music, which he does a lot. I’ll keep tabs on how often and keep you posted. And this is where he gets angry with Alice for focusing on Jasper instead of him. To quote: “Was she so absorbed with watching for trouble with Jasper that she’d missed this much more horrific possibility?” Well, maybe because her boyfriend has a much harder time with basically every student in the school rather than just one and is much more likely to flip his table in English and jump the teacher (and not in a fun way). And that her life doesn’t revolve around you!

As I said, the chapter ends with him speeding off into the night, because that is the only responsible choice. If you fell you it best to remove yourself from the situation, do it. But maybe stay consistent afterwards.

Good things: The description of Edwards methodical nature when planning the murders. Very well written, as well as his portrayal as a ruthless monster compared to the amped-up teenage-heartthrob-thing we got from Bellas point of view. The danger surrounding a vampire never really came through, but now it did. I actually fear for her. Very impressive writing.

Bad things: How easily and nonchalantly he tries to manipulate his way into a higher-level science class was very disturbing. How dismissive he is of almost all of his siblings and their problems or their happiness. The fact that the first feelings he had towards Bella are ambivalence and hatred.

This is gonna be unbearable, isn’t it?

#midnight sun #bella swan #edward cullen #review #can we even call it that?

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watchilove · 6 years ago

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Today I continue my stories about SIHH 2019 with Part 2. If you skipped the first part, you can read it here. I left my story at the preparings for the first day of SIHH 2019. Let’s continue…

The first day of SIHH

Bowties, traffic and parking spaces

The first day can be tricky. You have to be there early enough to pick up your badge without queuing too long, prepare for the first meetings and so on.

So I wake up at 6:30 to get ready. The suit was prepared, the only worries in the morning being reserved for the bowtie. The bloody thing is gorgeous (I like bowties, without being one of the guys wearing one with religiosity, like some of the fellow journalists. No, I will not give names… Who knows, knows…) but so complicated to tie. Especially when you used it just a few times per year.

Preparing for the Salon 20 minutes, arranging the bowtie another 20 minutes, traffic for Monday morning another 20 minutes. Ohhh, I am so much late… But not for what one might expect!

Arriving at Palexpo it is easy, just a few kilometres away and the morning traffic. Finding an empty parking slot in which my car gets in, another story. I usually have two situations: I block one of the sides near a pillar or block both sides by parking in the middle, between two other cars blocking. Why they have so small parking slots? It’s not like they come cheap. I was lucky enough to find a slot close to an emergency exit, so my driver side should remain theoretically free. That was for just 5 minutes until a car parked on the forbidden space. But did not blocked me. I just thought: “Let’s see until the evening”.

Badges, orange juice and Lamborghini

Look OK, parking OK! Now I need to go in… A ginormous queue to get in. The security was checking every bag and every device, just like at the airport. Metal detectors included. “Great, I feel safe!” I do actually agree with the increased security. It gives me a good feeling. With the last events all over Europe, you can never know when someone decided it is the time for you to die.

After the guys have checked to my entire equipment with some untrusty look: “That is yours? Your entire equipment?”, I get to get my badge. I had to choose between the girls, which one should make my badge. I just picked the cutest one and proceed with the papers and stuff. The first badge was an error. Being registered to a later event at IWC made me appear in the system as an IWC guest. But I was an accredited journalist… After another 2 minutes, a full press badge was on my neck.

And now running to the press corner. Why? Because there are less than 200 lockers for more than 1000 journalists. But I was lucky. At around 8 o’clock there were still a few available. The same amount of lockers as of fingers on my hand. So I locked part of the equipment and asked for an orange juice. There was almost an hour to kill until the first presentation. So I have made a quick tour of SIHH and made some photos with my phone to put on Instagram.

Roger Dubuis booth held a Lambo. “Can I take it home? No! Aaaah, just for the show…”

The first conference was held in Auditorium by Roger Dubuis. People from Roger Dubuis and Lamborghini talked about their collaborations. Rather impressive.

Meetings and failures

The first real meeting was with Christophe Claret. Lovely booth, nice timepieces… The new cable fusee is something out of normality. The time display with rubies is a nice touch – I like rubies.

I have met with the Gronefeld brothers. I love those two guys. The new Principia is like an entry level for the brand – in the Gronefeld style.

Then another conference in Auditorium – “The genesis of a new complication” with Christian Selmoni and that girl from Revolution that knows about watches more than I will ever know in my lifetime. You can see the conference here:

I head it to the lockers to pick up the video lights and stands for the interview with Stephen Forsey. What can I say? Prepared everything, did a great interview only to discover after that the camera stopped after one minute. Did I prepare a B-roll? Of course not… So I died a little bit inside… Stephen stormed away from the room. Probably not to kill me ’cause he lost 30 minutes of his time. The perks of working alone.

I managed to photograph the novelties… So it was not a complete waste of time.

The dark clouds and my disappointment were fast away. I had another interview with David Bernard, from Time Aeon Foundation. Lovely time, great discussion. The interview will follow in the next days. Stay tuned for some horrible sound (noisy background) and poorly placed camera. I still have so much to learn.

I ran to the Vacheron Constantin booth to meet the girl from the German press. I promised her we meet for a drink (working drink, you know – business meeting) and I was more than half an hour late. I managed to find her, kind of pissed of. But she was right, I have made her wait in a time and place where there was no time to spare. Thank you, A-M, for understanding. I owe you…

Swiss SIM, German dinner

So after the crazy first day was over. I ran to my car. Paying the 20 CHF for the parking was painful. So again on the Genevan roads to try to get a SALT boutique to buy a SIM card. I was lucky to have one relatively close. I was there 10 minutes before the store closes. I managed to get the desired SIM. The prepay system has unlimited Internet with 2 CHF per day. Necessary to post on media and to keep in contact with my loved ones (roaming was like 5 Eur per 150MB traffic – too much for too less).

Now was the time to meet and greet the colleagues from the German press at a hotel nearby. I will be honest, it was nicer than expected. Nice people, good conversation, good food. Since I was driving, no alcohol.

After the “social duties” were over, I drove back to the hotel to get some sleep. It was already midnight.

The second day of SIHH

The second day was less stressful. A tie, easier to tie than the bowtie, no hurry to get a locker…

Meeting, people & watches

My first meeting was with the girls from Roger Dubuis. Now that I knew them from the German press dinner, everything was quite a pleasure.

The next meeting was with Hautlence. Interesting implementations / variations of an older design.

Some ice to cool a hot day

The booth also hosted the H. Moser & Cie – crazy pieces. “Go green!” sounded in my eyes and ears. I am an avid fan, not only of their watches but also of their campaigns.

Is the year of the green dials?

Is green the colour of this SIHH?

The Piaget press conference amazed me with some gorgeous ladies pieces. Again, green was present in some lady watch and in the Polo.

That mother of pearl… that diamond set…

The Richard Mille was an explosion of colours. A strange thing: I was asked to send the pictures to headquarters before publishing something… To get the approval. Hmmm, forgot to send them so no pictures for you. You got to believe me, it was colourful.

The next appointment was with my close to heart JLC. Not all the pieces were available for me to photograph. But it’s ok…

That tourbillon enclosed by a translucent enamel… Gorgeous!

Audemars Piguet was an interesting stop. I had read some articles and seen some of the videos pre-SIHH and I was curious to see the C.O.D.E.11:59. The watches look much better in reality. Seen straight from above, the dials don’t breath the AP’s individuality. But I am not an expert in AP to judge that.

That sapphire though…

The Girard-Perregaux appointment ended with a tour of the booth and the presentation of the watches. There was, unfortunately, no time to photograph them. I have to tell you: the new perpetual calendar and the Girard-Perregaux Cat’s Eye Plum Blossom – gorgeous pieces.

After the photo session with Piaget (yes, first a presentation and later a photo session), I ran to Vacheron Constantin booth to catch the novelties in my hands. Here, I was again firmly convinced that, for SIHH 2019, there is a battle between green and blue. The new shade of petrol blue from VC is gorgeous.

The new Overseas in an interesting shade of blue

Singer and Krayon

After all the meetings from SIHH were over, I drove to Geneva’s centre to meet some friends. One and a half hours to cover 6 km. The traffic in Geneva is terrible. The only good thing was that I arrived after 7pm and I could park on the street, for free.

A new concept from Singer Reimagined

I got the chance to meet Rémi Maillat and his interesting Krayon. More about that in a separate review.

A white gold case, exquisitely decorated – Krayon Everywhere

My second day of SIHH ended. I was tired, kind of hungry and eager to have some proper conversation with my wife. So I head it to the hotel and tried to rest…

But was not the case. I prepared first some press releases. A lot of brands sent me the PR just after SIHH started. How was I supposed to prepare them? Even copy paste the text and upload the pictures needs at least half an hour…

But enough for today. Enjoy your weekend.

SIHH 2019 Impressions – Part 2 Today I continue my stories about SIHH 2019 with Part 2. If you skipped the first part, …

#sihh 2019

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icaruskey · 3 years ago

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All right all right all right I have finally watched this and I have Thoughts

I listed all the symbols and made notes on the ones I felt I needed to touch upon, and while overall her video is okay, between the sheer amount of symbols she was including and the speed at which she was trying to present things, she ended up coasting over a lot of relevant information and also

I just as a graphic designer inherently disagree with one or two takes. So here we go!

The first problem for me was “lavender menace.” She explains what they did and why lesbians took the term and ran but... lavender menace was used by lesbian radical feminists. The ones who led to lesbian separatism and a lot of the active man hating and transandrophobia we are seeing today.

It’s just weird that she’s willing to point out how stuff like the battle axe has been co-opted but not equally denounce the politics that came out of this group.

The lavender rhino I think I mostly take issue with how she repeatedly has aligned purple with violets (which are rightly associated with Sappho, etc) and thus it’s a sapphic symbol? But it’s not. She makes light of the meaning that blue and pink = purple and that lavender has long been a queer aligned color and it bothers me.

She has a very... strange take on why women’s sexuality was not as important (because it doesn’t have a penis in it?). It almost comes across like she... wishes? that lesbians were also given the pink triangle during the Holocaust? I have very mixed feelings about the pink triangle myself (like I really want to read an English translation of Die Männer mit dem rosa Winkel since it’s from a gay survivor). But the way she dismisses the trauma men faced because men bad?

I don’t know. I’m struggling to articulate this properly. But there’s a lot more that goes into why mlm were more maligned than wlw that stretches into history and patriarchy and I just don’t have the energy rn to really unpack why this section makes me feel like a cat rubbed the wrong way.

The pride flag reboot. This is where my graphic design hackles really rose. Because that damn flag is the bane of my existence and my spouse has had to hear about it all the time. And the way Aeons goes off on the Philly pride flag?

Listen, I may be a new transplant to Philly, but I’ve appreciated this flag for a long time.

Here’s the Philly Pride flag:

Why is this flag so fucking important?

There’s a section of the city in Philly literally called the “Gayborhood” and, in a city that is only 40~% white, it was getting called out for being racist af. So what does the queer base of Philly do? Fucking remind everyone that we gotta listen to black and brown people in the community.

Even though it went viral, this is a Philly specific flag. And it’s why until I made the choice to move to Philly in 2019, I never actually used it.

But this.

I hate this.

First off, it has destroyed the meaning of the original pride flag. By highlight trans people (and later on adding the intersex flag?) it is literally taking away from the fact the rainbow flag is supposed to be all inclusive.

But what about the black and brown stripes? You’re so gungho on the Philly Pride flag.

Yes, for Philadelphia, a primarily black and brown city. It makes sense for the city to deliberately promote black and brown voices. I don’t really care for its use outside of this very specific setting.

And like this -- the flag is confusing, it’s an ugly mess of colors (pastels with bright saturated colors) -- the inclusion of the intersex flag is even weirder since the white in the trans flag is already including them -- and by highlighting flags like intersex/trans specifically in what’s meant to be an unifying flag already...

It only divides the community further.

So, I heavily disagree with Aeons on her takes of the Philly Pride flag and Progress flag. The Philly flag was made for a specific purpose and a specific city, and the Progress flag is ugly and only divides the community.

So... yeah. I may make a video eventually regarding this, but I’m currently trying to find a place to record for Grayson’s project that’s not all echo-y so it might be a hot minute.

I don’t have the mental energy but don’t really like this thumbnail at a glance.

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themildestofwriters · 6 years ago

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Because Tumblr’s going down the shitter tomorrow, I’m going to post a chapter of the up-coming novel “short”-story I’m writing, ‘The Weird and Wonderful Sexual Awakening of Babette Melwyn’. This is chapter four, six seven and follows Babette after having her sexual reawakening and deciding to experiment a bit more. Does it spoil what happens? Well, it was already a foregone conclusion anyway and this is only one part of the story which has quite a bit more then just the smut.Quite a bit more.

Briefer:

For backstory: This is the fourth chapter of a longer series, “The Weird and Wonderful Sexual Awakening of Babette Melwyn,” there is more that isn’t much explained in this because it has been explained in previous chapters. However, all you need to know is that Babette is a immortal goddess ingénue who’s a bit socially awkward and still adjusting to an Earth she has just returned to after aeons of being absent. Her girlfriend is Josephine Williams.

Anyway, on to the story!

Babette Visits Pandora’s Box

Breath—in, out. In, out.

My skin prickled uncomfortably, suffocating heat washing all over me. Like the pounding of war drums, my heart was hammering in my chest. I knew that, if anyone saw me, they would see bright-red blush across my countenance.

I didn’t want to here.

I really didn’t want to be here.

Of course, the option to leave was there. It would be so simple. Just turn around and walk away, but I couldn’t. Wouldn’t. Indignant pride—along with incessant curiosity—kept me rooted in place. I survived hell and beyond, led armies, ruled an Empire and fought against everything from the Third Reich to the very gods themselves.

Yet… here I was, terrified. Petrified!

It infuriated me, how I felt, and it was all Josephine’s fault—or mother’s fault. It fluctuated now and then.

Weeks had passed since mother asked the question that changed everything, and it had been quite the journey. Now, here I was, standing before a building that was in no way discreet. It was only one story tall, sitting at a corner beside a few other stores—a mechanic and hardware retailer. Cement walls were painted black with a long and thick purple strip running through it, merging with a great eight-ball painted on its side; however, instead of there being an eight in the centre, there was an eighteen-plus. To finish it off, atop the flattened roof was a broad sign that read: Pandora’s Box Adult Store.

It was quite a distance from home, at least another suburb over. As sure as I was that it was far enough from school and home that I wouldn’t meet anyone I knew, the fear still lingered like a miasma. If I locked eyes with someone from school, a friend, a family member or, worse, Josephine herself, I knew I’d die from utter humiliation. That, or I’d bury myself somewhere on Pluto for the next century or two, at least until everyone who knew me was dead.

With that in mind, I took precautions. So, nobody would recognise me and hadn’t arrived as myself, per se.

Nobody walking by would see little Babette Melwyn visiting an adult store, no siree. Instead, they would see a man right out of a modern interpretation of Lord of the Rings. To put it simply, he looked like an elf—if a particularly strange elf—with a very thin and lanky frame, a strong aquiline nose that sat flush with his brow, and bright crimson eyes. His clothes were simple, a pair of plain black pants, a forest green shirt and a satchel that hung across his body. Finally, there was the black beanie that sat on his head, hiding a pair of long elfin ears.

I couldn’t remember the last time I used this form. In recent millennia, I hadn’t much use for it: No need to go undercover; no need to hide from the authorities; no songs to sing that simply sounded better with a masculine voice. I would have preferred a slightly different form from this—mostly because changing sex was a rather odd experience—but it was the only one I had that looked human enough and didn’t look a thing like me.

Taking a deep breath to calm my nerves, I adjusted my new clothes and began crossing the car park.

The streets were relatively empty, and I couldn’t see anyone out and about on a walk nearby, so my fears eased. Despite this, I still flung the entry door as open as I could and stepped inside as quick as I could. Unfortunately, in my haste, I almost slammed my face into another door a few feet away. Jerking back to save myself, I quickly noticed the large poster plastered on it—big bold letters declared a warning to minors, stating that this wasn’t the place for them.

Well, I’m certainly no minor, at least chronologically, though mentally? I mused. Completely different story.

I gave the poster a further few seconds of consideration before passing through.

The first thing I noticed was the front desk. A few advertisements and products decorated it here and there—lubricants and condoms mainly—but it wasn’t that which interested me, rather it was the human manning the desk who caught my eye.

I didn’t really know what I was expecting when I entered Pandora’s Box: A leering man with questionable stains on a rumbled spotted shirt; an Amazonian sex goddess with thighs that could crush skulls; or maybe the extravagantly dressed Madame who secretly owned a trafficking ring out back. There were many ideas and expectations I had when I first planned this trip. What I got instead was an old lady with greying hair who looked to be in her sixties or seventies. She wore modest clothes, a pale pink blouse with a short red cardigan over top.

It was… odd.

Nevertheless, what she looked like didn’t matter much at all to me. The fact that she was here, staring at me, however, was something else entirely.

She smiled, warm and welcomingly.

“Good morning,” she said, her voice as sweet as any grandmothers should.

“Hey,” I mumbled back, nerves and social ineptitude making it difficult to say much else.

I turned away quickly, wanting to forget she was even there, only to recoil in shock as the rest of the store revealed itself to me.

Just what in the Abyss had I gotten myself into?

Along the walls, hanging from hooks and on display in little island tables was an ungodly supply of dildos—some small, some so large I wondered how they’d even fit! There was more as well: lingerie, butt plugs, handcuffs, vibrators and so much more. Some of these things I couldn’t even name let alone determine their purpose.

Cheeks flared red and, much to my further embarrassment and dismay, I could feel my pants tighten. My eyes grew wide and for the next couple of seconds, all that went through my head was a steady stream of unholy screams and curses.

I had forgotten about that little fact.

I was biologically male and so I had to deal with all the aspects of being a male.

I took a deep breath and accepted that this was going to be my life for the next hour or so. Reluctantly, I began browsing, all the while attempting to reposition my newest appendage as subtly as I could. By Anu, it was uncomfortable.

As for what I was looking for, I didn’t want anything too fancy nor anything too big—just something to satisfy my curiosity—but it soon became apparent that I had absolutely no idea what I was looking for. Silicone versus rubber; double ended verses suction cup; veiny verses smooth; strap-on compatible verses that one weird dildo that looked more like featureless snowman: there were so many options to choose from that tackling size alone was its own chore, and I had no idea what any of it meant!

Oh, sure, I did spend a few weeks online researching the subject. I read a few articles about sex and masturbation, I learned that what I felt when with Josephine was “being horny” or “aroused”, and I’d seen many videos of people having sex. Yet nothing mentioned anything about the specifications of different dildos and what they meant. I didn’t even think this was going to be an issue! I just thought most of the different designs I’d seen were purely aesthetic based!

Unfortunately, it appeared my ignorance must have shown in some way as, after roughly ten minutes of staring at the shelves with confused horror etched on my face, a voice spoke.

“Would you like some help, dearie?” the old lady asked, her sweet voice unnervingly at odds with everything around her. In fact, the entire store felt off. It was quiet, casual. It was like I just walked into a convenience store but instead of lollies and Stanley knives, it sold riding crops and ball-gags.

I turned to the woman, trying my best to keep composure, and paused—at a complete loss for words. Should I ask for help? I had no idea. I didn’t want to look like some idiot, but I also didn’t want to be here any longer than necessary.

Once again, I cursed my stupidity. Of course there would be different types of dildos, each with their own pros and cons, yet all I did was get off to watching those wretched videos.

After much deliberation, I decided “to hell with it” and accepted her aid.

“Yes, please,” I replied meekly.

She smiled tenderly and left the counter, soon joining my side. It was then I realised that I was an entire head taller than her, a completely useless fact that left me feeling uncomfortable for some inexplicable reason. “Do you know what you’re looking for exactly?”

“I—ah…” I wasn’t really sure how to reply to that. Should I just out and say it? Would that be socially accepted? Or would a euphemism be in order? I had no bloody idea. “I’m looking for… I’m looking for a dildo.”

“Is this your first time?” she asked, this time with a knowing.

First time? I blushed. “Is it really that obvious?”

“Don’t worry, dearie,” she said. “I’ll help you out.”

One misunderstanding and many uncomfortable questions later, I had my vibrator in hand. While I would have much preferred a normal dildo, it at least looked far less complicated than the other toys recommended. The entire vibrator verses dildo dichotomy confused me, but not being an expert left me little room to complain. Of course, getting to that point wasn’t easy nor fun. Not only did I realise how deep the well of my stupidity goes but I think I somehow convinced the old lady that I was trans. After all, how else are you supposed to explain away a man looking for a dildo to use on his vagina?

Soon after paying, I hid the vibrator away in my satchel and left the store as discreetly as possible.

Once out, I wandered around for a bit, eventually arriving at a wooded park nearby. Hiding among the trees, I made sure none were nearby before returning to my old skin.

Shapeshifting was a queer affair. Disorientation was always something to worry about if one was unaccustomed with the art or shifting into an unfamiliar body with different proportions. However, that was only a minor inconvenience for me as it was the shift itself that was more unusual. It was by no means painful or anything, it simply felt weird. It was as if my skin and bones were melting and reshaping again and again until my body fit what form I desired. The first to change was my height, becoming noticeably shorter; my shoulders narrowed; my hips widened; my chest expanded; features became less elvish and more feminine; and then finally, my eyes shifted from a red to vivid gold.

It only took a second at the most, but I was grateful that my body was mine once again. What’s more, the annoying erection was no more, yet I still felt the tingling of anticipation twisting in my gut below, aching for release.

I fought down a shiver and took a deep breath. Every thought I had went straight beck to the vibrator in my bag: what I would do with it; what it would do to me. I was eager, ready, but I couldn’t just fly home right now—I needed batteries.

After once again checking to see if the coast was clear, four great black wings burst from my back, tearing through my shirt. A few seconds, I launched into the sky, vanishing from sight moments later.

A short stop to buy an eight-pack of batteries later and I was on my way home.

I had the house all to myself, what with my family being out for the next few hours, so I had time to satiate my curiosity. There was a reason I chose today to go out to the store.

Locking the front door behind me, I silently set the alarm spell just in case anyone attempted to break in. I then retired to my room, closing and once again locking the door before flopping onto my bed.

I was home, all alone.

The strange aching sensation had tapered off during the flight, but now that I was back, all I could think about was the vibrator and what would come next.

Sitting up, I opened my satchel and removed my newly bought toy, still sitting inside the box it was sold in.

I removed the packaging and examined the purple disembodied member. It was roughly seven inches long, curved slightly, with a realistic mould of the male genitalia. Apparently, it was a high-quality product, not only being waterproof and made of silicone but also with seven different intensities to choose from. Let’s just hope it was worth every cent I spent.

I bit my lip, my legs squirming together as the tingling warmth began spreading throughout my body. I was eager—more than eager—to find out how it would feel. Fingers were one thing, but these were supposed to be ten times better.

I smirked despite myself. Everyone said masturbation was a healthy and natural thing, even my therapist, but their words still didn’t change how I felt. Masturbation was a dirty thing, so depraved and selfish in my mind; a taboo I had never considered, yet a taboo all the same. However, these thoughts only seemed to make the action all the more exciting as if to spite it all. It was a forbidden fruit, something I shamefully tasted once and was left only wanting more.

Quickly, I summoned a Shroud of Silence around my bedroom and got ready.

With the batteries placed inside, I quickly discarded my clothes—my beanie, hair tie, shoes and socks—and threw them onto the floor with everything else that wasn’t necessary.

Next came the tattered shirt. I didn’t really need it anymore and considering the fact that it was already ruined, I tore it off and threw the remains to the floor. Without a bra, I was left bare-chested, everything from my pale lavender-grey skin to my scars—some faint, some not—and my small breasts.

I looked down, I inspected myself—the dark room, a bright monochrome to my eyes. My body felt all warm and sensitive, hyper-aware of the tingling pressure below my navel begging to be attended to. My hands roved, tempted to simply forgoing the vibrator and take matters into my own hands. The slightest touch was like sparks of electricity to my skin, enticing.

I forced myself to stop, to think clearly. I crawled onto my bed. With pillows to act as a buffer, I leaned against the headboard and spread my legs. Absently, I summoned the vibrator to hand and… stopped.

This was the first time I had ever used anything aside from my fingers and pillow, and I had no idea what I was going to expect. Of course, I had seen videos of people using them but seeing and experiencing were two completely different things.

I pressed the button sitting flush with the black base of the vibrator and instantly the room was filled with a low hum.

I squirmed at the noise, the vibrations stimulating my imagination. My legs clamped shut and I could feel my body ache to feel the massaging touch of my new toy. Like tunnel vision, the vibrator was the only thing on my mind at the moment—the desire to feel it against me, inside me; the carnal pleasures it would bring. But before I began, curiosity pushed me further. I pressed the button a few more times, each rewarding me with a new and enticing setting that picked up in intensity until it was buzzing madly in hand.

My breath hitched and quickly I switched the thing off with a final press of the button.

By Anu, I would certainly not be using that setting tonight. That was far too… too potent. I smiled nevertheless, excited to see what this night would bring.

Relaxing against the headboard, I spread my legs once again.

Slowly, the fingers of my left hand ran down my body, past the tuft of silky black pubic hair before gliding over my warm mound. I wanted to ease myself in, not be overly hasty.

First, I started with my middle digit, circling my clitoris—each movement of my finger sending sparks of pleasure, some more often than not, flowing through my body. I varied myself, trying to find that right touch, that right rhythm to get the best effect. Sometimes I would slide my finger between slippery lips, delving deep into my warmth; at other times, I would use two or more fingers, playing with myself until my head became hazy.

The only constant was how deep my breathing became and how slick my fingers got. I felt as if I could go on and on, slowly building myself up and up until that bright flash of absolute paradise. It would be easy to give into temptation, but I stopped myself, huffing a deep breath as I did.

Bringing my fingers up for inspection, I saw they were glistening, lines of wetness connecting finger to finger like a spider’s web.

I blushed. I had never been so wet before.

I knew I was enthusiastic—shamefully so—but I didn’t expect this!

I stared, almost mesmerised by the lines of fluid that coated my fingers. I had seen video after video of men and women using their mouths and tongues, tasting the viscous juices of others. I wondered how it tasted—the girls surely looked like they were enjoying themselves from what I remember.

I tilted my head and, in a fit of impulse, brought my fingers to my lips, dragging my middle finger down my tongue.

The taste… it tasted kind of… I wasn’t sure.

There wasn’t much of a taste to be honest, perhaps a bit sweet? It was underwhelming, to be honest. It wasn’t ambrosia and I certainly wouldn’t drink a glass full. But, somehow… the thought that this was what a woman tasted like?

I wondered if this is what every woman tasted like or if it was different. Did Josephine taste this way? I didn’t know but I wanted to find out—to feel my tongue running along her slick lips, tasting every inch of her. I could almost see it when I closed my eyes, her body writhing beneath me; my tongue explored every inch of her.

I brought my fingers back to my mouth, slowly lapping up the remaining nectar from each digit. This was the closest I could ever get to Josephine and I savoured every last bit, moaning as I did. My tongue grew and reformed, becoming longer and pointed, wrapping around my fingers and tasting every last drop.

Only when I was done and there was none left did I sigh, deep and content. The taste wasn’t anything special but the thought of my tongue exploring Josephine’s depths just made it so… so… delectable. My body was already hot and bothered before, but now I could barely think straight.

I turned my attention back towards my vibrator and then down towards my vagina—aching heat calling desperately to be tended to.

Readjusting my grip, I turned it on to the lowest setting and brought it down slowly. The second it brushed against me, I jerked up, stifling a small cry—a powerful jolt of pleasure, intense and sudden, shooting through me.

It… um. I— I didn’t expect that…

Suppressing a grin, I repositioned myself and pressed against me again. Just like before, pleasure shot through me, but it was more than that—a near constant assault as I pressed it between my lips. The vibrator changed pitch, and I groaned and squirmed.

I tried to be quiet, but I couldn’t help but mutter under my breath.

“Fuck…” I groaned, beginning to move the head, watching it roam around my vulva. I never let it overstay its welcome, exploring around and between soaking lips to my sensitive clitoris and everywhere else. As I did, more jolts of pleasure racked through me, soliciting moan after moan, threatening to overwhelm me.

My head lulled back, eyes closed, as my free hand moved slid up my waist and ribs, tickling my side before cupping my breast. With thumb and finger, I teased myself, pinching my hardened nipple as fresh waves drowned me in carnal delight.

My groans became louder, hungrier. I could feel that presence below my navel growing and growing as time ticked by—tense, like a spring, as if it were ready to release at any moment.

I didn’t just want more, I needed more.

I pressed the button on the base and—

“By Anu!” I cried. My body arched suddenly, an entirely new world of ecstasy taking root. I pressed the button again and again, lost in my insatiable craving for more. “Oh, fuck!”

My mind blanked, the world around me darkening as I focused purely on myself and nothing else. I felt as if I couldn’t stop, even if I wanted to. All I could think about was feeding my blind hedonism until I was left a drooling mess.

Pinching and teasing turned to rough kneading—my hand massaging and squeezing my small supple breast.

Soon, fantasies began filling my mind to tempt and stimulate. I remembered back to that particular video I watched—the one of the two women sharing in each other’s company. They would kiss deeply, their hands ever wandering, caressing, teasing. Soon, one girl began to kiss lower, down the other’s neck, past her breast and between her legs.

I couldn’t help but put myself in the other’s position, completely at the mercy to another’s masterful tongue.

But then the girl changed. No longer was she a blonde white woman taking deep pleasure in lapping up every inch of me. Instead, her skin turned a dark caramel, her hair curlier and now a deep chocolate brown. She looked at me, parting hair that obscured her face and—

My heart skipped a beat.

Josephine…

I could see her plain as day in my mind.

She crawled to me, slowly and seductively, her delicious arse swaying so tantalisingly as she did—her enthralling green eyes never wavering from mine. There was a look in those eyes, some unrestrained hunger that scared me, excited me and awoke something deep within me.

Pure bliss flooded every part of my body. I moaned her name, feeling shameful desire swirl at my desperation. That presence below my navel called out, demanding to be filled, and I obeyed.

My lips parted as I eased the vibrator in. First the head then, slowly, the rest of it began to fill me. It was unlike anything I had ever felt before. Instantly, I was intoxicated, drunk on unabashed lust. I groaned loud—loud enough that, had anyone been home, they surely would have heard.

In and out, I pumped the vibrator, building speed as I yearned to feel more. My free hand soon joined it, massaging my clitoris as the vibrator continued to send wave after wave of crushing pleasure through me again and again and again.

My fantasy continued, Josephine’s splendour still in my mind.

I soaked up every last bit of her I could remember—her eyes, her skin, those lips. Oh, how I longed to feel those luscious lips upon my own, on my neck, on my breast, teasing me with teeth and tongue.

Down, down, down, down.

How I longed for those beautiful soft lips to mark me all the way down to between my legs—to feel her tongue dance a most wicked dance around and inside me, exploring my warm depths.

Oh, how I wanted her here.

I wanted her, I so desperately wanted her here it was frustrating. I wanted her here to make me her plaything. I wanted her here to ravage me so completely that I couldn’t think straight. I wanted her here to fuck me hard and rough until I was nothing more than an incoherent babbling mess in the palm of her hands.

I gasped.

My entire body seized up, legs slamming shut onto my hands. I clenched down hard onto my vibrator. My entire body rocked. Hips bucking wildly as absolute euphoria flooded my entire body.

I felt as if I was being shattered deep into my very core—a feeling so strong and intense it almost hurt.

Muffled whine turned whimpers tried desperately to be heard as white hot bliss shot through me again and again and again and again.

Jolt after jolt of agonising pleasure ruined me, never-ending and omnipresent. I could feel it building me up and up, just as before. Every inch of me felt so sensitive, like the slightest touch could send me spiralling down all over again.

I cried out, every last moan loudly declaring my depraved deeds to the world.

I couldn’t handle it. It was just too overwhelming.

I removed the vibrator as quickly as I could, fearing that I would break. The second its ravenous touch left, I surrendered to fatigue.

My heart raced. Blood thumped loudly in my ears. My breaths, long and laboured. I was utterly exhausted.

I laid there for a moment, trying to recover my lost strength. The buzzing of the vibrator continued but a quick spell later and all that could be heard was my heavy breaths.

That was unlike anything I had ever experienced.

It was just so… so… pure. So utterly all-consuming. I could barely describe it.

Slowly, my faculties returned. My mind became clearer and my breathing soon became more measured. When my body relinquished control back to me, I summoned the silenced vibrator to hand. I could still it vibrate against my hand and so I quickly cycled through the various settings and turned it off, placing it on my bedside.

I continued laying for a time, staring up at the cream ceiling as my muscles began to relax.

After a minute or so, I pulled myself up to a sitting position and quickly looked down, noticing a sudden wetness against my leg.

I frowned, cheeks flaring hot as I realised just how soaked I, and the bed, was. Not only were my thighs glossy with the clear coating of my release, but there was a large dark stain on my sheets, intermingling with the marks of sweat.

I sighed and reclined on my bed. It’d be a pain to clean up. Next time, definitely bring a towel.

Next time.

I smiled wistfully and turned to the veiny member sitting innocently on my bedside. There was no doubt that I wouldn’t be using it again.

But now? I need to clean up and probably have a bath. A nice warm bath.

#smut #oc: babette melwyn

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furynewsnetwork · 7 years ago

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It’s widely believed that the beginning of the Hippocratic Oath—history’s most famous medical document—states “First, do no harm.”

It actually doesn’t. Nevertheless, this sentiment is the driving principle behind philosophy professor David Benatar’s argument that “people should never, under any circumstance, procreate.”

Benatar—the head of the philosophy department at the University of Cape Town, South Africa—first laid out his case for “anti-natalism” in his 2006 book Better Never to Have Been, and provides a reiteration of it in a recently published essay on Aeon titled “Kids? Just say no.”

There’s a widespread assumption among “breeders” that those couples who elect not to have children today usually do so out of selfishness. After all, toddlers and trendy happy hours down the street from loft apartments tend not to mix well. But interestingly, Benatar’s anti-natalism presents opting out of procreation as the height of magnanimity.

Benatar’s case for anti-natalism boils down to two categories of arguments: “philanthropic” and “misanthropic”.

The philanthropic argument for anti-natalism is that procreation is wrong because of the harm that will be experienced by one’s children. When people procreate, they’re basically sentencing their spawn to an existence in which they will have to endure pain, illness, anxiety, desires not realized, and in one hundred percent of cases, death.

The most common objection to this point is that life is also filled with much good, which makes the pain and suffering worth enduring. Benatar’s rejoinder to this point is that the bad clearly outweighs the good; that “life is simply much worse than most people think,” and always falls short of the ideal.

The misanthropic argument is that it’s wrong to procreate because of the harm that your children will cause. “Homo sapiens is the most destructive species, and vast amounts of this destruction are wreaked on other humans,” writes Benatar.

This destruction includes not only the physical harm people cause to their fellow man, but the psychological harm, as well. And, of course, there’s also the harm that human beings do to animals and the environment.

Because of the harm that human beings both experience and cause, Benatar echoes the chorus from Sophocles’ Oedipus at Colonus: “Not to be born is, beyond all estimation, best.”

As you might suspect, there are some weak spots (or, at least, some points needing further clarification) in Benatar’s anti-natalist argument.

For one, Benatar acknowledges that people usually dismiss anti-natalism because they reject the idea of they themselves no longer existing (presumably, Benatar would include himself in this category, as he is still alive), rather than focusing on the pertinent point of never having existed. Yet, he chalks up this fact to a mere biological “life drive”, failing to consider that people’s belief in the overall good of life might be the result of a rational reflection based on experience, and thus, a justification for procreation. It’s a reductionistic leap that is unjustified.

Secondly, Benatar’s argument seems to rely upon an identification of “good” with “pleasure,” as when he tries to prove that the bad in one’s life outweighs the good through a consideration of pain:

“The worst pains, for instance, are worse than the best pleasures are good. If you doubt this, ask yourself—honestly—whether you would accept a minute of the worst tortures in exchange for a minute or two of the greatest delights.”

Yes, it’s true, most people wouldn’t undergo horrific torture or all the turmoil in life for a fleeting pleasure… but they might, and many do, for an enduring good such as love.

Benatar also clarifies that he isn’t advocating murder or the mass genocide of the entire human race. From an intellectual standpoint, I don’t know why. His argument relies on a model of utilitarianism, which holds that those actions are right that maximize the good for the greatest number. If, as Benatar holds, life’s harms outweigh its goods, why wouldn’t ending people’s lives now—so that they avoid all future harms—be a merciful and praiseworthy action?

And finally, as with all utilitarian arguments, there’s the difficulty of knowing whether one’s attempt to maximize the good will actually maximize the good. The movies It’s a Wonderful Life and Idiocracy offer fictional examples of the additional and unpredictable harms that can be inflicted on others as a result of someone’s non-existence. And then there are the predictable harms that come from not having children. Many European and Asian countries are facing a “perfect demographic storm” as a result of decades of low fertility, which has resulted in a rapidly aging population with not enough working-age people to support them.

That said, I also find Benatar’s anti-natalism strangely refreshing—not because I agree with it, but because it represents an attempt to take suffering seriously. Benatar’s realism about the human condition would find more sympathy among men of the past than the sanguine, soma-induced optimism that’s become so familiar in the first world today.

It also constitutes a shared first principle with the major world religions. One of Buddhism’s three marks of existence is dukkha, the acknowledgement that human life itself is suffering. The Bible, also, is replete with recognitions of the tragedy of human existence. As the Psalmist laments, “Our days may come to seventy years, or eighty, if our strength endures; yet the best of them are but trouble and sorrow.”

Indeed, for Christians, being able to see the Gospel as “good news” is predicated upon their ability to recognize, to feel, the tragedy of human life. To be able to rejoice in the doctrine that “Christ has conquered death,” one must first have a real sense that death is a pretty awful thing.

But Christianity, like most of the other world religions, has a belief in the afterlife. Yes, they concede, human beings have to endure harm in this life, but it gives way to an eternity without harm.

But if there is no afterlife, is Benatar right? Would it be better to not bring children into the world? Would it be better to have never existed than to be subjected to the harms that inevitably accompany human existence?

This post Philosopher: ‘Having Children is Immoral’ was originally published on Intellectual Takeout by Daniel Lattier.

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