#Shaw Appreciation Day

[arthistoryanimalia]

Happy #NarwhalDay!

A Narwhal (Monodon monoceros) tusk is the upper left canine tooth that grows through the lip. Sometimes, the right one does the same, resulting in a 2-tusked individual, as illustrated by English naturalist George Shaw (1751 – 1813):

George Shaw's The British Miscellany (1806)

George Shaw's Zoological Lectures (1809)

Bonus: Found a photo I took of a real double-tusked #narwhal skull that was on display at the Smithsonian NMNH :

[fallensapphires]

Holidays: Dancing Skeletons (Halloween)

If you cannot get rid of the family skeleton, you may as well make it dance.

[purplelupins]

Sugar Sugar

|The Black Phone|

Part I Part II

Albert Shaw/The Grabber x Fem!reader

Summery:

A couple months after Albert had snapped and finally gotten reader, she left for college…and all seemed to be going so well up until he pays her a visit.

Warnings: stalking, age gap, jealousy, toxic relationship, unclear intentions, unprotected sex, tummy bulge, overstimulation, pantie stealing, kidnapping, little bit of feelings, lowkey voyeurism, creampie, swearing, manipulation.

MINORS DO NOT ENGAGE WITH ANY OF MY STUFF

Notes:SURPRISE!! a year later and we have a part two!! This is dedicated to my dearest friend @wayward-persephone. Happy birthday you beautiful, talented soul. This is for you 🤍

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If there was one thing you had learned about Albert Shaw, it was that he didn’t like to share.

It had been a month since you left for College, and Albert hadnt taken the change well. He had grown accustomed to seeing you everyday when he pleased, and he had so very nearly persuaded you to stay...to forget about your dreams and any future career you thought you might have...but he hadn’t quite gotten you.

Not yet.

He had played with your hair as you sat in his lap one afternoon in his office. “Why do you need college anyway? Statistically, most people don’t even use their degrees, honey.”

But you were adamant.

It would have been so easy to just drag you into his van and make you disappear from the world, but

You were his sweet little bunny, and he had engrained that in you so well, perhaps you just didnt realize how much you belonged to him yet, and that was alright, he could wait. he was old, and he knew a thing or two about patience.

Albert pulled into the college parking lot and gripped the steering wheel until his knuckles turned white and his teeth hurt from clenching his jaw so tight. One month.

God he had missed you... needed you. Not that he hadnt seen you of course- he had indeed seen you, you just didnt know he saw you. countless nights of driving for hours just to sit outside your dorm window and watch you sleep. On more than one occasion he had attempted to sneak inside the campus but he had to appreciate the amount of security there- at least he knew that his girl was safe from anyone else trying to sneak in like him. he knew what college life was like; he had been young too. He knew all about how good girls became whores so fast without being under their parents gaze and how young men sought out any warm cunt they could to sow their seed...disgusting the lot of them. But he knew he had trained you well.

dumbed you down just right, and made you reliant on him...knew he was the one who could make you cum, and who would make you feel special. because you were. you were his, and that was very special.

Of course he wished that guard hadn’t stopped him so that he might sneak into your dorm room and slip into your bed to use your sleeping body…but alas he was denied.

It was chillier now, and Albert shrugged his cardigan on over his shirt as he strode across the parking lot.

He knew you werent expecting you, but he also knew you would be in your dorm cleaning until 3:30 that day... some study group you had joined was meeting and he knew he only had so long to see you. But regardless of if you had to go or not...he would see you.

As soon as he opened the door to the building, he swore he could smell you. Perhaps it was just his vivid memory, but as he strode to the reception, he ran his tongue over his teeth and he could even taste you. He could feel his pupils dilate at the very thought of how sweet you were when you came into his mouth. How you grabbed at him and whined and whimpered...

So fucking sweet...like sugar.

Albert asked the guard at the desk which room you were in, and it was easy enough to convince the man he was your father- Al was well aware that your family hadn’t come to see you yet- he had heard you talking to a friend one night on the phone.

Plus, the staff knew his face- he had been the one to move you there after all, not your family.

He smirked at the memory; remembering how he had knocked on your front door and your father had answered and looked so pleased.

Of course, your father knew Albert by that time- your he had come to your work numerous times to check on his baby girl, and Al had so happily greeted the man while you stood there with a blanched face. Your poor father had no idea that Al had just finished filling your young pussy with his cum and that it was now slowly dripping down your thighs under your skirt. He remembered how your father had invited him to your family's summer barbecue, and how elated he had been when Al accepted. His daughter's boss coming to their house? This was a big deal.

So when Albert showed up, van and all to move you two hours away, free of charge, you father had almost exploded with gratitude and pride for you. He had called you to the door and beamed at you- he had no idea what a fantastic impression you had made on your boss...he was so proud of you.

There was something about having your family so obliviously accepting of him that made the devil in him purr. He had loaded up the few things you had decided to take into his van, and watched as you nervously climbed into the passanger side. You had both waved to your weeping parents, but as soon as you were down the block and out of their view, Albert's warm hand was on your thigh, dragging that long skirt up you leg and bunching it around your hips so he could stroke your flesh. You had jumped and tried to push his hand away lest someone see...but he had just laughed and pulled off into a quiet parking lot. He had you in his lap before the engine was off; his hands had been in your hair, pulling you tight against his chest as his tongue licked into your soft mouth. "I’m gonna miss you, bunny." he had rasped, "Gotta make this trip count, right?" The sound of his belt unbuckling had made you shiver in his arms.

His eye twitched at the memory of it.

By the time he had your boxes in your dorm, he had made you cum three times. Albert needed you to remember who you belonged to; he didnt care if you could walk. He wouldn’t let you leave his sight without knowing very well that he could trust you…and in the back of your mind, you were aware of that.

His possessiveness worried you sometimes. You didn’t even feel comfortable going to the movies with a friend, lest he find out and torture you the next time. And Albert always found out. He knew everything; while that was charming and sweet sometimes…it was uncomfortable at times too. Al had immersed himself into your life like an infestation and if you wanted him out, you'd have to burn everything to the ground. Possibly including yourself.

He was everywhere all at once.

Al turned down the hall and found your dorm easily, his breathing came faster and faster as he got closer to your door. The anticipation was making his fingers tingle; he could hear light music playing and he smiled to himself when he recognized it. It was song that had come on the radio one night as he had driven you home from work and he had noticed you swaying to it. He had bought you the record the next day...you were thinking of him...

Of course she is.

The idea of you thinking of him was enough to make him sway on his feet.

Albert knocked on the door four times, and waited.

"One second!" He heard you call, and he felt his pulse jump.

A moment later, you were opening the door, and he watched you freeze.

You stared up at the man you knew so well and felt your eyes go wide. Your pulse quickened and your skin flushed at the sheer sight of him

"Albert." You murmured in shock.

He grinned, his canines showing off nicely.

"Surprise, kiddo." Came that voice that made a shiver chase your vertebras. Albert ate up your appearance and clenched his fists to not grab you right there. Your hair was a mess and your only had on a crewneck you had gotten from the school over your jeans.

Adorable.

"C’mere." He opened his arms and relished in you stepping into them. He felt your arms wrap around his waist, and you buried your face into his thick chest as he in turn buried his face into your hair and breathed in. Albert noted that you smelled a little different, but it was still you. He made a mental note to steal a few panties while he was there since the ones he had snatched before now smelled more of him that you.

“Miss me?" he rumbled, and he felt you nod against his chest.

"Mhm. I- I had no idea you were coming..." you mumbled as you pulled away and he tucked some hair behind your ear.

He watched your eyes go all bright and fluttery as you stared up at him.

"Yeah well...I missed my favourite girl." Albert cupped your cheek and you melted into his touch, but you jumped away when you heard some footsteps coming down the hall.

The action stabbed at Albert’s heart and jealously began to poison his head.

Was she embarassed by me?

The older man looked down the hall, and saw that it was two girls who looked to be around you age; they smiled as they saw you.

"Hey y/n! Didn't know your dad was coming to visit you." One chirped and the other nodded.

Ah.

Albert smirked internally.

You wanted to curl in on yourself. They had no idea this man had made your body do things you didnt even know were possible. You looked at Albert pleadingly and he slowly realized why you were panicking...because if they ever met your father they would question who he was…and that would rouse a plethora of questions.

Perhaps if Al was a better man he would have corrected them and told them that he was just a friend…but Albert Shaw was not a good man. And he was feeling particularly sadistic.

"Yeah, I thought I’d surprise her. Nice to meet you girls." Albert grinned and watched them pass.

They blushed and giggled when they were past and Albert’s face fell.

Whores.

You rubbed a hand over your face and sighed out a laugh.

"Come in." You stood aside, and smiled sheepishly.

Albert shared your smile, albeit more predatory, and passed you; he waited until your door was closed before he grabbed you hand and pulled you to him. At the quickness of his actions, you squeaked, but the sound was covered by his mouth as he kissed you fiercely. The other man’s tongue slipped into your mouth and smoothed against yours. He pushed you up against the door and locked it blindly- need taking over him. His huge hand wove into your hair and held you still- a low groan emitted from him when he felt your soft lips move against his.

His warm breath huffed against your cheeks, and you felt as I’ve he was consuming you through his every touch, let alone his kiss. Albert picked you up and had you wrap your legs around his waist in an effort to have you closer. He needed more. So much more. Albert ground his hardening cock into your crotch, and smirked to himself when you moaned helplessly into his mouth, small hands grabbing at his shoulders and hips moving against his like he taught you to.

"A-Al-" You gasped as he released your mouth and kissed messily down your neck. Goosebumps springing up his lips’s wake.

"I know bunny, I know… I got you.” He rasped, and pulled you away from the door before dumping you down onto your small bed.

The record you had been listening to was still playing, and Albert was everywhere, and your head was getting dizzier, and dizzier by the second. It had been a month since you saw him and while you werent a particularly needy person, he had left a gaping hole in you. He had made you addicted to him; the way he held you and spoke to you and fucked you.

He had you in the palm of his hand. all he needed to do was close his fist.

Albert shucked off his jacket and connected your mouths again; unbuckling his belt, and unzipping your jeans and tugging them down all in a flurry. When the cool air snuck up your bare legs, you shivered again. Albert took notice and pecked your lips once before nuzzling your nose with his.

"Don’t worry, I’ll warm my girl up." He rumbled and you blushed even harder at his insinuation. Albert’s rough hands collected yours in one palm and wrapped his fingers around your wrist, while the other pulled his cock out and ran the tip through your slick folds. The slow drag of the leaking tip made you whimper at the contact after so long of relying on your fingers- just like he had showed you.

Albert tsked you and hummed, "Awe I’m sorry...I know. Its been too long. I’ll take care of you, bunny. just hold still."

You were so soaked that he slipped the head in far too easily, and you choked on your breath. The sudden stretch was painful, and you felt tear prick at your ears as your body adjusted. Albert groaned and dipped his face into your neck as he pushed and pulled until he was fully sheathed inside you. There was a bulge in your tummy when he sat fully inside you, and the sight of it when you look down made you clench unconsciously. You whimpered and your body began rolling your hips, needing him to move. And he was eager to oblige. The older man quickened the slow thrusts, and began hammering into you- all need and possession.

Your body bouched under him as the three his weight into fucking you, each thrust striking your clit steadily. Albert’s hold on you almost tightened in tandem with your body and he revelled in it.

“That’s my girl, look at you…” He purred, his head spinning from your rosy cheeks and heavy eyelids, “…You still fucking blush for me…” he mused as his pace slowed for a moment to enjoy how you went even redder.

You looked away, embarrassed that you were indeed a flushed mess; you bit your lip to stay quiet, but it couldn’t hide you mewling and gasping.

Mine.

Albert could feel himself get closer and he gave into his selfishness and began rutting into you without abandon. There was only the muffled noises of your cries and the smack of his flesh on yours in the small room. He didn’t even try to hide it as people passed by outside, and the depraved side of him was hoping those girls from before would hear them and know what he’s doing to her. He hoped it would make them stay away from his bunny…he didn’t want her surrounded by sluts anyways. And if she was lonely, she was more likely to come home to him.

All mine…my bunny.

He was close. You felt Al throb inside you and his warm breath on your neck as he chased his orgasm. Albert’s thrusts grew sloppy and lost their rhythm, then he pushed forward into you, and you sobbed into his shoulder when you felt the tip of his cock press up against your cervix as he came. The bulge in your tummy grew warmer, and you felt as if you might melt into a puddle. His cum filled you, and some began to leak out past the tight seal of cock.

He growled into your hair, and ground his shaft against your g-spot, eliciting a surprised gasp from you at the intense stimulation.

“You thought I wouldn’t make you cum, bunny?” He smirked, exhausted. “You thought I forgot how to take care of you, hm?”

Your eyes went wide.

“I- I don- “ you couldn’t even keep at thought together when he lifted his shirt for his tummy to grind down onto your clit better, and he rolled his hips against you.

“Christ, you’re all dumb already, hm? I think my girl missed me.” He teased you, grinning wolfishly at your fucked-out form.

You nodded, not caring what he said; you could feel yourself tighten more and mor. You could feel a moan build in your chest. You gently grabbed the back of his neck and tried to bring him down to your lips. He resisted for a moment. “Ah ah, what do we say?” He had you hanging by a threat and he was going to soak up every moment while he could.

You sobbed quietly.

“Please!” You gasped when he ground particularly hard into you.

“Atta girl.” He praised you and dipped his head down to kiss you. You latched onto his lips eagerly and whimpered with need as he continued his ministrations. Albert hummed contently at your desperation for him, then he pulled away after a moment and spoke against your lips, “You’re almost there, cmon…” he encouraged you.

You could barely think after the kiss, and nodded. You felt yourself give in to the scorching heat inside you, and you arched your back as you came. You felt a rush of liquid down your bare thighs as you forced some of Albert’s cum out of you.

“There you go…there’s my girl. Good girl.” He rasped against you, the rumbles in his chest making your even warmer than you were. The older man’s demanding energy never ceased to envelop you- consuming you mind and body like you were his property.

Albert kissed at your neck and slowly eased himself off of you, and watched his cum spill out of you as he pulled out. “Made a mess of my bunny…” he mused under his breath and he pushed his hair back from his face. Then he looked down at you, and he paused.

You were staring up at him so serenely. So fucked out that you probably couldn’t even form a coherent thought or idea.

Mine…

As your breathing finally returned to normal, you slowly eased yourself up from your bed and looked down at your legs where Albert was kneeling and kissing at your thighs. You watched him drag his tongue up a streak of your cum; as if he felt your eyes on his, he looked up at you, and smirked devilishly.

“There’s my pretty girl.” He cooed.

“Hi...” You said shyly, while you squirmed and twitched at his touches- your skin already so sensitive.

Albert placed one last kiss to your thigh then knelt down on the floor to look at you as you sat up. “What do you say if I take you out for a bit?” He rubbed your ankle gently, knowing his touch made your brain melt.

To his pleasure, you nodded with a dazed, shy smile, “Yes please.”

“Alright…let’s get you dressed. Can’t have you catching cold can we?” He stood slowly and winced at the pain in his knees; groaning at his back.

As you righted yourself and came back from the washroom after cleaning the mess between your legs, you saw Albert perched on the edge of your bed, playing with one of your stuffed animals. It was a little childish but they made you feel safe. For a man you knew could be brutal and cunning and possessive, he looked so soft with such an innocent object in his large, calloused hands.

You suddenly wondered if he had any when he was growing up…he had divulged very little about his younger life…but a few details about the cruelty of his father slipped by. You knew he didn’t have it easy…

Your heart stung. Wordlessly, your crossed the room to him, and crawled into his lap, not caring that you were sore. Albert watched you climb onto him, and was about to make a comment, but then you nuzzled your face into his neck, and breathed in, and he kept quiet.

“I missed you, Al…” came your soft voice from his hair.

Something in his chest tugged.

“I know…I missed you too, sweetheart.” He rasped, and pet your hair.

You both sat there for a moment- the carnal need for each other out of your systems for the time being.

“How’s Samson?” You asked as you reluctantly pulled yourself away and tugged on a new pair of panties since the ones you had been wearing were missing all of a sudden.

“Howling for you.” Albert laughed. It was true. Samson knew you gave him the best treats and a month without you might have been even harder on him than on Al.

You nodded, then tried to hide your smile as you reached into one of your storage drawers and pulled out a large bag of treats. Albert barked out a laugh.

She’s incorrigible…

“I hope it’s okay…I found them in a shop here and thought of him.” You fiddled with the seal on the bag and looked down.

Albert shook his head, that signature half smirk pulling at his lips, “You’re too sweet, you know that?” And took the bag from you.

You waved him off and pulled on a skirt, and a new shirt that didn’t have cum on it. “It’ll make me happy to know he’s not howling.”

You tugged your shoes on and Albert wrapped his arms around your waist, “Is he the only one you thought of?” He rumbled, and noted that you instantly relaxed into his embrace.

Such a good girl…

“Al…” you gasped embarrassingly, and squirmed.

“What?” He chucked into your ear, “I thought of you, you know…”

You gasped when he nipped at your neck.

“I- well I just…I’m- you know I thought about you…” you felt him smirk, “And i-if you keep pushing I don’t think we’ll ever leave so…you know- just…” you tried so hard to be assertive and it failed so miserably, but Albert seemed to enjoy it as he kissed your head and was smiling as he came around you.

“Can’t blame an old man for asking.” He kissed your temple and handed you your jacket. “Now how about a milkshake and a slice of pie?” He opened the door, and let you walk out first.

You took a booth at the popular diner in town, and went to sit across from Albert, but he didn’t even give you the chance before he was tugging you into the booth beside him.

He scanned the menu, squinting at the small font, and made up his mind quickly.

You tried to hide your smile.

“Now why don’t you tell me what you’ve been learning so far?” He cooed and leaned his cheek into his hand as he watched you read.

You flushed agin. You were certain you’d never get used to his attention.

“Oh well most classes are just introductory right now…so nothing super interesting just-“

“Hi there folks, my name’s Harper I’ll be your server for today…what can I get for you?” A vibrant server came over to the two of you and you almost jumped when you saw her. You had been so used to being in the little bubble Albert seemed to make around you that someone popping it irked you.

Albert smiled at your startled form then looked up at the young woman. “A piece of cherry pie and a coffee for me, please.” He said. The young woman’s face flushed slightly, and you felt jealously rise in you. That was new…You knew Albert was handsome, and you trusted his claim that you were the apple of his eye, but that didn’t stop you from being a little possessive in your own way. You weren’t the most confident about yourself, knowing there were far more beautiful girls out there that could easily catch Albert’s eye-

“And what would your daughter like?”

The simple question made you freeze and look to Albert for help. You didn’t know what to say or if you should correct her. Evidently, Albert took a sick enjoyment from your discomfort and the perverted thoughts that swam comfortably in his head because of it.

Albert hid his wolfish grin, and covered it with a playful chuckle as he pulled you into him like a father might. “Go on then, kiddo. Dad can’t order for you forever.”

You stared down at your napkin like it might help you, but nothing happened. “J-just a strawberry milkshake please.” You murmured, still not looking up at the perfectly nice young woman.

“Sure thing- I’ll get those things out for you in a jiffy!” She chirped, and walked away with her paper in hand.

You still couldn’t look at Albert, though he seemed to have enjoyed the interaction thoroughly.

“Albert can you please make me disappear like one of your magic tricks?” You whispered, and covered your face with your hands when he laughed.

“C’mon now, sweetheart, it’s just a joke,” he kissed your hair, “You didn’t finish telling me about what you’re up to here.” He coaxed you to finally look up when he eased his hand over your thigh under the hem of your skirt.

“What’s wrong? Hm?” He teased you, and you just stared up at him helplessly as he moved his hand higher and higher until your lips dropped open; he passed the edge of your dampening panties, all the way to your very sensitive clit, and at the contact, you forgot how to breathe.

“Go on.” He prodded you.

Your lips felt dry and when you went to try speaking, you barley formed more than a few very discombobulated sentences.

You didn’t even notice Harper coming back with a smile on her face and tray in hand until Al looked past you and replaced his devilish grin with a pleasant expression.

“Here you are. Now just be careful of the pie it’s a bit hot. Oh, and I took the liberty of adding some cream to it…you strike me as the kind of man who might enjoy that.” She said as she put them down, and placed your milkshake down in front of you.

You might have made a comment to her about being more respectful and not flirt with the man she assumed was your father, but you decided against it. You would feel horrible after if you did, and she was harmless.

“Thank you so much.” Albert pulled you closer into his side and continued his petting of your clit as the young woman walked away.

“You think she knows?” He rasped in your ear, “That my cum is still dripping out of you? You think she knows I’m playing with your little pretty cunt?”

His depraved words made you shift and squirm. You gasped when he stroked over your clit- the friction from your panties over your recovering flesh making you twitch in your seat. “I don’t Um- I- ah!” You tried again, but when Al saw you about to speak he ran a finger down your slit between your puffy lips and your mind went blank.

“There she goes again…just an empty head.” he mused to himself as he watched your eyes glaze over while he toyed with your body right there in front of the half-full diner. He took a bite of his pie and groaned in his throat. “Almost as sweet as your cherry, kiddo.”

You fought with your brain to do your best to maintain your dignity and complete enough sentences to pretend that you were not being petted under the table, and seeing as no police were called, you managed.

Albert skillfully ate his pie and sipped at his coffee with one hand ; feeding you every other bite. A little red filling dropped down from your mouth onto your chin, and he couldn’t resist reaching over to you and swiping it away with his thumb before sucking it into his mouth. “Messy girl.” He hummed before returning to his coffee like nothing had happened.

Meanwhile you sipped mindlessly at your milkshake. You barely tasted it. Not when you were on the edge of another orgasm, which you pathetically fell over when he leaned over to you and kissed just below your ear.

“Come on pretty girl. Show your new town how well you cum for me.” He rasped lowly against your skin.

You bit down on your straw to hide your moan and you gripped his leg with your hand like a vice. Albert groaned deep in his chest when he felt the rush of wetness soaking your panties, and slowly took his hand away before sucking the two fingers into his mouth for a second.

“Such a good girl.” He said, and kissed your temple before giving you the last bite of pie.

The bill was brought to you and you didn’t even have time to glance at it before Albert had put down a $20 and was helping you up out of the booth onto your wobbly legs.

“Have a great afternoon!” The server’s voice called after you as Al lead you away and he sent her a wave of recognition; too busy trying to make sure you didn’t fall flat on your face. Your head felt disconnected from your body.

Albert -ever the gentleman- helped you into the van, and kissed your cheek. He climbed in beside you and pulled out with ease; you were still so boneless you didn’t even notice where you were going. He could have been driving to Canada for all you knew.

A comfortable silence enveloped you until Albert broke it.

“I was thinking, honey…why don’t you come back to Denver? You don’t seem very happy here.” He said, eyes on the road.

You blinked, and sighed; fidgeting with your hands. You had hoped he would have dropped the subject after you had officially left for college, but it seemed he was still focused on it. You hated any kind of confrontation, and sadly, he knew that.

“Well…I just…I know I probably will end up doing something else, but I guess I just want to have some kind of education…and it’s not for long.” You shrugged. It was the same conversation you had had with him months ago.

Albert gripped the wheel tight, “Don’t you miss me?” He asked, though his tone masked his rising temper.

“Of course I miss you…” You looked over at him, “So much.”

The older man pursed his lips and his eye twitched.

“Then what else do you need? Don’t you want to just wake up next to me and not have to torture yourself for years just to learn something you will probably forget?” He pushed, though his tone remained eerily gentle.

You were so focused on his words that you didn’t notice when he began to pull off the road.

It wasn’t until he parked the van that you finally looked around, and your brows scrunched up. “Al…where are we?”

There was a pause as he thought.

“Is there someone else?” He asked lowly, turning his body towards you and skipping over your question.

Your eyes went wide at the ludicrous insinuation. “Someone- No! No one…I don’t even really talk at all to anyone.” You offered honestly.

He sighed and shook his head. “So you’re staying?” His question was practically rhetorical.

“I am. At least for a year…if I hate it I’ll come back.” You nodded and smiled gently to reassure him.

Albert felt his anger start to rise and he turned away from you, running a hand through his hair.

He didn’t want “if”…he wanted you. He wanted you morning, afternoon and night and any other time after.

Albert sighed.

“Now why did you have to do that? Hm?” He turned to you.

You shook your head in confusion.

“A-Albert you’re scaring me…” there was a tremble in your voice and while Al had slowed down in his kidnappings and had truly enjoyed you…he had missed that nervousness. And hearing it in your voice was like a drug to him.

“You’re scared?” He asked. There was a lilt to his voice that you had only heard once before when he caught a spider and found out you were terrified.

Back then it was playful.

Now?…now it unsettled you. It was creepy and unnatural.

“Well…Yea…” you confessed, hands going cold all of a sudden.

There was a beat of silence, then he nodded. “Guess there’s not much use in dragging this out then.”

Everything happened so fast, but what you knew was your head stung, and your world went black and fuzzy.

You were dizzy and your temple throbbed. Your limbs all felt like lead while your neck felt like it was pumped with helium. All you felt was your limp body being moved and something rough tightening around your wrists- a tight, sticky feeling over your lips too.

Albert placed you in the back of his van, and tore a piece of duct tape over your pretty lips and bound your hands and feet. He tsked the blood dripping down your face from your head. “All you had to do was agree with me, bunny…now look at what you made me do.” He tittered.

You squirmed against him weakly as unconsciousness took you, and he chuckled at your fight. “Shh…I know you’re scared…I know you don’t loved me like I love you, bunny… but that’s okay. I did all this to get you…and I’m not going to let you leave now…I have just the place for you.”

You would learn to love him, Albert would make sure of it.

He had managed to trap this precious little bunny in his jaws, and he wasn’t about to just let her go.

Not when she was as sweet as can be.

Just like sugar.

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

@dogmatic255 @ethanhoewke @honeycovered-bandaids @dancingisdangerouss @tuttifuckinfruttifriday @theroadreader2 @lxdyred @eth1calcannibal @ebiemidnightlibrarian @katehawke @blep-bloop @ratpackash @al-shaw @darkvoidz @belladonnaaura @pecter-specter @samhainrain @turtle-boris @mandowifey

[countrymusiclover]

Battle of the Mind and Heart

Addison Shaw, as in the daughter of Sebastian Shaw. Yes, you heard me correctly... Erik Lehnsherr is on the hunt for who he calls his creator. He seeks revenge and hates him for what he did to him. Yet along the way, he can't hide that he feels something for the daughter of the man he wants to kill.

One - The Man Who Can Control Metal

Two - We’re not Alone

Three - We Can Actually Have Trust

Four - Second Chances Can Happen

Five - Our Own Release

Six - The Day before Cuba

Seven - Cuba Beach

Eight - Cuba Beach pt 2

Nine - 50 Years From Now?

Ten - Erik and JFK

Eleven- Reunions and the Pentagon

Twelve - Intense Plane Conversations

Thirteen - My Life with Charles Xavier

Fourteen - Still On Different Sides

Fifteen - Professor X and Mystique

Sixteen - The Future War

Seventeen - Changing the Future

Eighteen - The Lehnsherr Family

Nineteen - The X Gene

Twenty - Simple Life Gone Wrong

Twenty One -

???

Comments really appreciated ❤️

Tag list - ask to be added (in my ask box please) @aintinacage @hiraethrhapsody @mostlymarvelgirl @importantgalaxyrunaway

[cellarspider]

5/?? The pseudohistory of Prometheus

(Previous) | (Index) | (Next)

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We return to a movie I wish to send on a journey down the Kola Superdeep Borehole, Prometheus.

And my insanity truly begins in this segment. We are only 1/10th of the way through the movie so far. Content warnings for discussion of racism in pseudoscience and historical anthropology, Spider getting hung up on logistics and space nerd stuff, and pictures of Yuri Knorozov, the most sour-faced man to ever live.

The cast sits down for a briefing. This is a scene with an easily identifiable narrative function: providing exposition to the theater audience. The act of doing a briefing makes sense. It is the last thing here that will.

We are introduced to a hologram of Peter Weyland, the financier of the expedition. The name means all sorts of Lore to the series, but what’s intensely distracting is that we seem to have caught Weyland halfway through applying his zombie makeup.

Weyland is played by Guy Pierce. As of the filming of this movie, he was somewhere around 45 years old. Yes, they smothered this Australian in old man drag so that he could play this character. This is a baffling decision, that only gets slightly less baffling if you know the production history of the movie, which I did not at the time.

Guy Pierce was hired to play a younger Peter Weyland. There’s a promo video out there of him giving a fictional TED Talk in the not-to-distant future of next Sunday AD 2023, there were various plans for him to appear in the movie proper. None of those scenes are actually in the movie. They refused to double-cast the role for some reason. While the practical effects in the movie are generally excellent and it does make the tiniest smidge of sense that a hypercapitalist asshole would be portrayed as a literal rubber-faced movie monster, this, like many things in Prometheus, made the movie a very weird sit. One where I was increasingly less open to going along with the movie’s fiction. You are telling me that this is an actual human man. I am not buying it. He looks far less human than David, the only non-human there.

Speaking of David, Weyland calls him “the closest thing to a son I will ever have”, and then immediately says David is an inhuman lesser being, who does not appreciate the specialness of his existence because he does not have a soul.

Which is funny, because I think you can see David’s soul leaving his body at this exact moment.

Weyland then tries to mash in some existential weight to the movie: they might finally get an answer for “why are we here?” and all that jazz! He also tries to explain why naming a ship Prometheus is totally not like calling it Titanic II: Don’t think about the part of the myth where Prometheus is chained to a rock and has his ever-regenerating liver eaten by an eagle every day! Think about the bit where he brought fire to mankind! We’re gonna bring back that bit!

And then the archaeologists take over the briefing, and this, THIS, is the bit where they entirely lost me. My suspension of disbelief had already been strained by multiple oddities up to this point. My skepticism about these characters in particular was already a bit elevated by their implied invocation of the ancient astronauts concept.

Turns out, only Vickers, Shaw, and Holloway know why they’re here. 

Two years away from Earth. On a massively expensive expedition that intends to make first contact with an alien culture, the first alien culture that humankind has ever found evidence of. Nobody has been briefed up until this point.

This is lunacy.

Explanations have been figured out by fans since then: this is a passion project by Weyland, an annoyance to the rest of the corporate structure that nobody else believes in. The movie eventually intimates this, through Vickers. 

Fans have thus speculated that Weyland was just quarantined off to do his little alien hunt, with no logistical support that would make it actually functional. He believed a crazy theory put forward by Shaw and Holloway, and everyone else wasn’t actually best-of-the-best, they were just whoever would take a big paycheck to do fuck-all for nearly five years of sleeping their way to and from their destination.

I am willing to consider that this was intentional. The movie possibly tries to confirm this with Mr. “I’m here for the money” Fifield, but none of the other characters have enough characterization to determine if this is the general trend.

How could we make a story that more clearly spells this out? Maybe Millburn the biologist could encounter more of the crew talking about the payout from taking the job, or reveal that he himself has some project he needs money for. It would also chip away at the dearth of character-building dialog for most of the cast.

As a result of those deficiencies in characterization, a lot of my discussion of plot points is going to be focused around what they do, rather than why. …Except when it is about the why, at which point the main commentary will be “WHY.”

In any case: while it makes sense, I'm still not certain the film meant for this character motivation. Prometheus is just so loudly explicit with so many of its plot points that it doesn’t seem like this is the case. The movie certainly believes in the sincerity and correctness of the archaeologists, though.

Unfortunately, it also immediately tells me that they’re a couple of wingnuts. I’m not sure if it intends to, for reasons I’ll get into after I foam at the mouth for a little while.

They present a series of artifacts to the crew: Egyptian, Mayan, Akkadian, Sumerian, Hittite, Hawaiian, and their Scottish cave painting. All of them feature “men worshiping giant beings”, who are pointing to what stargazer nerds call an asterism: a pattern of stars. Shaw and Holloway believe that these are aliens that engineered humans into their current state. Shaw literally says “it’s what I choose to believe” as the entirety of their justification for this.

Again: I knew the movie wanted me to take this as truth, within its universe. That’s the implicit deal the movie has made with the audience, this is truth. You are supposed to be contemplating the "whys" of it all. But the movie had also smacked me in the brain so many times in the past five minutes, that I, like Millburn the Biologist, was ready to call bullshit.

I appreciate him for doing so, and it shows he could have been a smart character, but sadly, he is in Prometheus.

Because he is a fictional biologist and I am an actual biologist, I will expand on his argument, as I descend into ranting for the rest of the post.

Millburn objects on the basis of evolutionary history, which the movie only partially succeeds in papering over: the implication is that evolution on Earth was directed with the deterministic outcome of creating something like humans.

This opens up a whole new can of worms that the movie doesn’t get into–when exactly did this engineering start? When great apes evolved? When mammals did? Tetrapods? Skeletons? DNA itself? After all, we know the aliens, now dubbed Engineers by the archaeologists, have DNA. Did they seed all life on Earth? How did they evolve? Our last universal common ancestor is believed to have already been using DNA 3-4 billion years ago, evolving out of a likely RNA-based genetic standard. Hominins diverged from other apes around 15-25 million years ago. What sort of culture would undertake a project that required at least 15 million years on the extreme low end?

All excellent questions! The movie is not concerned with them. I am, and that is part of why this movie still lives in a special, awful place in my head.

This isn’t actually what made me become actively hostile toward the archaeologists, though. What managed that, well! It was their archaeology. Anybody who had an Ancient Egypt Phase in their childhood should be able to articulate multiple reasons why the academic community would’ve laughed these guys out of the building.

Bigness in ancient egyptian art does not indicate literal size. It indicates importance. In fact, the artifacts the movie uses exclusively come from artistic traditions which feature hierarchical or non-literal scale. Do the Engineers turn out to actually be eight feet tall? Yes! Am I still annoyed by this? ABSOLUTELY.

You know what else is a big problem? Many of the cultures they reference here had written language! A LOT of written language! They include Egyptian, Sumerian, Babylonian, and Mayan art in their evidence, all of which not only wrote a LOT of things down, but had a habit of annotating a lot of their art with labels to tell you what was going on! You can actually see some on the props they used in this scene!

Beyond that, they had very prescribed formal styles, where you can follow the action entirely through gestures, held objects, attendant symbols, and clothing! If all these cultures, as implied, had actual, direct contact with aliens, recorded in the art presented here, we would know what they were told.

Skipping ahead of the movie for a minute: the Engineers were apparently not telling humans “we’re here in these stars, come find us”, they were telling humans “settle the fuck down or this is where the hurt’s going to come from”. 

Here's the thing. Ancient peoples weren't stupid. They wouldn't just not talk about this. If giant aliens came down from the sky and gave them a stern talking-to that contradicted their religion, that would be a big deal. And these characters specifically say the Engineers are being "worshiped" in these images! They're apparently taking onboard what's being said!

It is certainly possible for information to be lost. Over long time scales, that's unfortunately the rule, rather than the exception. But again: half the artifacts have writing on them!

I chose to believe that Shaw and Holloway simply did not attempt to read any available translations of attendant texts, and they were thus cursed for their foolishness by the ghosts of Mayan Studies pioneer Yuri Knorozov and EgyptologistJean-François Champollion, and the still-extant spirit of Assyriologist Irving Finkel.

Knorozov knows your sins against Mayan Studies. Knorozov is a vengeful god. Chapollion and Finkel are likewise very cross.

Two last things stood out to me in the theater. One of them was extremely petty but tied into some very serious issues with pseudoscience, and the other one was not.

Pettiness first: the asterism shown in the artifacts is a pattern of six stars. The movie wants you to believe that it is very spooky that the only asterism that precisely matches this pattern are six stars that are too faint to see with the naked eye. This is laughable, both because the asterism is so generic-looking that I can think of several very visible asterisms that are good matches for the pattern, but it also recapitulates a bunch of really fucking annoying shit from pseudoscientific bullshit. 

First: Pseudoscience and pseudohistory likes to make a big deal out of the fact that every culture has stories about the stars. Why? 

The sky is very important to every culture’s mythology, because every culture can see the sky. Like, that’s literally it. People can see the sky. They tell stories about it. There’s not much to do at night except look at the sky, when even keeping a fire lit can be an expensive prospect. It is not even the least bit weird when multiple cultures–all of them in the northern hemisphere in this case!–have stories about the same stars.

Second: Cultures vary in their ability to faithfully reproduce celestial landmarks in art and align their architecture is variable, and not as exact as modern techniques can manage. Pseudoscience will claim that they are exact, when it fits their pre-existing theory, or fudge the difference if they want something to fit their claims.

(This is a photoshopped image, by the way.)

Were the stone age temples of Malta secretly aligned with a particular star that foretold the doom of Atlantis, precisely tracking its location through the sky over thousands of years of Earth’s axial wobbling? No! They were roughly aligned with the sun. Sunlight is important when you don’t have electric lights. Were the Great Pyramids of Giza laid out ten thousand years ago to match the layout of the stars in Orion’s Belt, according to the designs of a legendary lost race of highly advanced non-African people? Were they tapping into the Earth’s magnetic field to generate energy? No! They were aligned with the cardinal directions, and they got them a bit wrong! 

Hell, if we want to play at that game, I found a decent match for the asterism in Stellarium's Egyptian constellation set. Just flip this 90 degrees clockwise and you'll see I'm totally right. Aliens confirmed.

I know the movie is trying to tell me that all the asterisms in the art are precise matches for each other and are thus impossible to explain without intercultural contact (or aliens!!), but it is also showing me that they are not that precise. So, it’s just showing me stars. At least in some of them. Their little charcoal lad from the Isle of Skye may be throwing fruit at his audience.

In fact, there's a further, probably unintentional link to pseudohistorical claims in the artifacts presented: the Maya artifact shown does not actually depict a "giant figure" being worshiped, in fact, it shows one instantly recognizable, known figure in Classical Maya history: It is an altered version of the ornately carved coffin lid of Kʼinich Janaab Pakal I (24 March 603 - 29 August 683), with the top quarter of the carving replaced with a star pattern that looks nothing like the ones on the other artifacts.

The carving shows Pakal in the pose of an infant, entering into death and being reborn. It is packed full of so many symbolic elements that can be easily recognized by those more familiar with the Classical Maya than I am.

Conspiracy theorist Erich von Däniken thought that it showed Pakal rocketing away on a spaceship. Däniken proposed this because he didn't understand the cultural symbolism, but he had seen pictures of astronauts before.

And on that note, 2,400 words into this rant, we get to the actually bad shit. Unfortunately, it ties into the issue I had with the premise to begin with: the real-world context of pseudoscientific claims of ancient alien contact. Specifically, the racism.

We’re going to unspool this more near the end of the movie, because there was further behind the scenes I was not aware of when I first saw Prometheus, and it just compounds this stuff. 

So, when I went on my first tangent on how unpleasant ancient alien theories are, one thing I highlighted is that the further from Western Civilization you get, the more these theories presuppose that fellow humans are incapable of building great works or imagining interesting things. No, they had to be guided, and explicitly shown things that they copied down to the best of their limited capability.

The only european example of alien contact they show is from the Upper Paleolithic, 37,000 years ago. All the examples around the Mediterranean and Mesopotamia range from 5,500-3,700 years ago. The examples from the Classical Maya and Hawaiʻi are from 620 and 680 CE. 

During this period, Tang Dynasty merchants were creating the first paper money as the famous female emperor Wu Zetian was on her way to the throne. The Prophet Muhammad went to al-Aqsa mosque, and we’re only eight years before the birth of Charlemagne’s grandfather. We’re no longer talking ancient, it’s just old.

I want to emphasize that the movie is presenting these not as depictions of myths that have been passed down–though there are more problems with that I’ll get into shortly–these are implied to be contemporary depictions of events witnessed by the artists, who were quite possibly instructed by the Engineers to record a precise pattern of stars. An equivalency is being drawn between stone age Europe, bronze age Africa and the Middle East, and a couple of startlingly recent Mesoamerican and Polynesian cultures. 

But let’s be generous. Maybe these aren’t supposed to be contemporary accounts in these two outlier cases: the movie’s script will certainly indicate later that they have no idea what they’ve implied here. Perhaps these are story traditions that were handed down from the Olmecs and Melanesian precursors of the first to sail to Hawaiʻi. 

Unfortunately, this just recapitulates a different racist trope: that European and more “developed” civilizations invented so much cool and comfortable material culture and philosophy that they forgot the Mystical Religious Truths of the old ways, which were preserved only in Primitive Lands and among Uneducated Peoples, where they never found anything better to do with their time. Oh, if only we had heeded the warnings from those spiritually attuned non-white people!

(Look, I only remember Devil (2010), which has 50% on Rotten Tomatoes, because M Night Shyamalan wrote and produced it, and this was two years after The Happening came out, so I watched it out of morbid curiosity. It's not as unbelievably bad as The Happening, but as shown in the clip above, the spiritually attuned latino security guard Ramirez attributes toast landing jelly side down to Satan. That is an actual thing that happens in the movie. He is proven right.)

But let's be even more generous: someone probably realized that they'd focused near-exclusively on Middle Eastern cultures, and wanted to throw in a couple from elsewhere. Sitting here, having seen the movie in full, this is the most likely option: their inclusion creates a contradiction with a later scene, and was thus probably not checked for consistency. These cultures were thrown in as a bit of background flavor. I list this last, because in the theater, there was no way to know this at the time.

That answer's still not great. Still leaves us in the same position, where Europeans are pretty much given their own agency, while other cultures need to be led.

Oh, and to anyone else who’s made it this far and knows the production history of Prometheus: don’t worry! I know what Ridley Scott told that one interviewer, about a contact between a less-ancient European power and the Engineers. I’m saving that one. I like to save that one, because strategic deployment of that quote made some of my IRL friends scream.

Next time: the Prometheus descends to an alien world, and I descend further into madness. I am going to drag you all down with me.

(Pictured: Yuri Knorozov, and my present mood.)

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(Previous) | (Index) | (Next)

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Citations for alt text ramblings:

https://www.almendron.com/artehistoria/arte/culturas/egyptian-art-in-age-of-the-pyramids/catalogue-fourth-dynasty/

[winchestergirl2]

May Reading Rec List

To show some love and appreciation to all the amazing writers here on tumblr, here are all the fantastic fics I've read this month. 💖

Many of these fics and blogs are 18+ only, and NSFW please heed the author's individual fic warnings and requests regarding no minors. I am not responsible for your media consumption.

Reading Recs Masterlist

Supernatural

Dean Winchester

Darken (Masterlist) @impala-dreamer

Authors Summary: ~You woke up in a trashed motel room covered in someone else’s blood and no memories of the past week.~

Without Her @foreverwayward

Authors Summary: Dean mourns the loss of the love of his life.

Tattooed @coffee-obsessed-writer

Authors Summary: Dean takes you to get ink

Sam Winchester

Lean On @winchester-fantasies

Authors Summary: Sam finds you years later after leaving you for Ruby. Set early in season 5. Inspired by the song “Lean On” by Major Lazer & DJ Snake.

Carry Me @welikeimagines-andfandoms

Authors Summary: Fun fluffy Drabble with the moose

You Lost Me @tattooed-on-my-wayward-soul

Authors Summary: Sam chose Ruby over the reader, now Ruby is gone and the reader and Sam are no longer together but Sam still loves her. The three go to watch the Supernatural play and Sam’s see what he really did to the reader.

Sam and Dean Winchester

Sleeping Arrangements @jinkieswouldyoulookatthis

Authors Summary: Imagine sharing a bed with Sam and Dean.  No smut, but oh how we wish…

Dawson's Creek

CJ Braxton

One Exception @zepskies

Authors Summary: Joey has invited you to a party at Pacey’s apartment, and CJ has agreed to go, despite the contentious history between him and your new friends. He doesn’t want to be the reason you miss out on a good thing, but it also means he’ll have to hide his apprehension (and his alcoholism).  

Tracker

Russell Shaw

So Close @thebiggerbear

Authors Summary: You meet Colter and Russell at the morgue to help them gain access. Had you known how this was really going to go, you might have pushed Colter's call to voicemail.

Close Enough @thebiggerbear

Authors Summary: When you'd met the Shaws at the morgue the day before, you thought that had been the end of it and you wouldn't need to see one Shaw brother in particular again. Little did you know that Colter was about to once again ask for your help and not only would you be forced to see Russell again but things were about to change drastically for the both of you.

Waiting For The Real Thing @rizlowwritessortof

Authors Summary: You can't serve in the same unit with somebody without getting pretty close. She managed to survive around him until a couple of years ago. And when she hears about their brother-in-arms troubles, she heads that way to help out. Of course, Russ beat her to it. And now she just can't make herself leave without seeing him.

A Line And A Half @zepskies

Authors Summary: When Dory’s eldest brother comes to visit her at Wyoming University, you don’t know quite what to make of Russell Shaw. But he knows exactly what he wants to make of you.

Walker

Cordell Walker

Moonlight Whiskey @idreamofplaid

Authors Summary: Cordell plans a romantic night for the reader that brings back memories from decades ago.

Ten Inch Hero

Boaz Priestly

When Broken Is Easily Fixed @deanbrainrotwritings

Authors Summary: priestly broke up with tish (yes!) uh, i mean… you watch him be pathetic and sad with his big wet green eyes.

Big Sky

Beau Arlen

Untitled drabble @anklesoverackles

[do-you-know-this-queer-character]

For reference if you're a non Warcraft fan or haven't been keeping up with WoW, Warcraft has blatantly racially coded fantasy races like the trolls have jamaican accents, wear tiki masks and grass skirts, and practice voodoo in Jungles, whilst the tauren (Minotaurs) have feather headdress, smoke peace pipes, have totem poles and tepees, ETC.

Warcraft's so called new "woke" writers have doubled down on the "PoC coded monsters are evil" stuff with the very few good characters from those races being depicted as the "good ones" because they reject the savage ways of their people and side with white humans.

They've also whitewashed any bad actions from white characters.

Around the same time, Mathias Shaw was confirmed as gay, we got 2021's Shadowlands where:

There was a story with the pure and good white colonizers vs the completely evil savage natives that deserved to be wiped out because they didn't want to share.

Confirmation that the gods that the white races worshipped were real, whilst the gods of the tauren and other PoC coded races were fake.

An afterlife where all spirits are converted to bodies resembling caucasian humans.

A POC coded character (Zul'jin) that fought against the white colonizers that stole his land and treat his people as vermin to be exterminated, being one of the only characters being sent to Hell, whilst white characters whom did far worse weren't.

Real world revered voodoo loa Dambala being depicted as a God of evil that players are sent to kill.

So I think more people should've voted negatively on Mathias Shaw because whilst the character himself isn't racist, he's closely associated with horrible racist writing that thought throwing a white gay character in to their broke ass script script would somehow make it "woke".

I encourage people to interpret the poll options in whatever way they want, whether that's the character's writing, the strength of the representation, or their overall feelings on the media. I've talked about this before, but at the end of the day I am not trying to be an arbiter of what media is good and what's not, because I am simply not qualified to be. I sincerely appreciate when people send in asks like this detailing the issues with a piece of media so that other people can be more aware in the future. All posts like this are tagged with "media critical"!

[romirola]

Headcanons for the Shaw Pack’s Favorite Weather Days

David: That first genuinely spring day, when seasonal flowers and greenery begin to pop up from the ground, animals skitter around in the forest, and days will begin to grow longer. It’s the start of a gardening season, which is something David is always ready to celebrate. Furthermore, the first day of spring holds a particular promise for rebirth and renewal for David. He likes that tangible experience of seeing nature survive, endure, and blossom into something new. 

Angel: A hot, sunny day. They thrive in the sunlight! The more scorching, the better. Angel handles heat very well, but more than that, they love how hot days seem to have that effect of slowing everyone down, including David, even just for a little while. Angel loves the way that hot sun has a way of making everyone a little bit more mindful and a little bit more comfortable wearing a little bit less clothing. 

Asher: One of those days that cycles through a variety of temperatures and precipitations. Asher has never felt strongly about any one specific weather type. He appreciates all the benefits that come with each type of weather. He enjoys walking through a rain shower. He also is ready to get a dose of Vitamin D whenever the sun shows itself. On those days that simply can’t decide what kind of weather to have, Asher feels like he gets the best of all possibilities, and he’s ready to make the most of it. 

Babe: A windy day in the beginning of autumn when the falling leaves fill the air. Babe loves to watch the bright leaves dance and sway in time with the wind. Not only that, but they love that surge of vitality they get when the wind gusts up behind them, as if the world is helping push them to wherever they are going with a definitive whoosh. 

Milo: A “just right” type of day. One where it’s not too cold, not too hot, not too humid, not too dry, not too windy, not too stale… The list goes on. Milo is not a finicky guy, no matter what Sweetheart says. Milo has high standards for himself and everything in his life, including the weather. He wants the climate to cooperate so that everyone is comfortable and happy, which leads him to want the weather to reflect that perfect type of day to bring everyone joy. Anything else? Not good enough for the people he loves. (Alright. Fine. Maybe he’s a little finicky, but only for a good cause.)

Sweetheart: A cozy, snowy day, when they don’t have anywhere to go other than right where they are. Sweetheart loves when the snow falls in big, wet flakes that make them feel like they are living in a snow-globe. They could look at snow-covered trees, streetlights, and anything else for days, moved by the glistening, majestic blanket that cloaks everything in its path. They marvel at how the snow appears so innocuous, but grows and builds up into something powerful and all-consuming. 

Darling: A still, silent, chilly night. Always a bit of a night owl, Darling likes to prowl around at night, especially when a thin layer of frost just barely forms across the ground. Darling values this weather, fleeting as it usually is, partly because it seems like the type of weather that everyone forgets happens. After all, by morning, the ground usually thaws and the evidence dissipates, not even noticed by most people in Dahlia. Darling cherishes the opportunity to notice the frost, to hear it softly crackle as they step upon it, grateful to know it’s there, even if the inherent beauty of a still, silent, chilly night is easily overlooked. 

Sam: A thunderstorm. Even before the sunlight hurt him, Sam always felt drawn to a loud, pounding thunderstorm. The pounding thump-thump of rain on the roof is the most urgent, concrete sensation that tells Sam he has a roof over his head to shield him from the elements. He likes to see the rain come down in sheets, a reminder that everything, even storms, have their place and purpose. 

[maximotts]

hey bestie,,, uhhh for those NSFW alphabet fun things,,, you know I gotta do it… leigh shaw PLS I am begging and offering french toast 😌🙏🏼

Ignore that I'm finishing this at 8pm

We all know I love Leigh endlessly and god, doing this was so so fun!! I'm excited to do the others!! Also this is a good time so post this because this is the week my Leigh fic comes out hehehe 💖 so without further ado..

NSFW Alphabet: Leigh Shaw

A = Aftercare (What they're like after sex)

Oh she's so sweet. Even if Leigh is dead tired, she'll make sure you're feeling okay and that you're both all cleaned up and settled properly. When she's too out of it to do it herself, she'll prod you to do get up, have some water, get all cozy, etc.

Above all, she's so very caring and she wants to make sure you're in your best headspace after sex. If Leigh knows you're alright, she'll feel a thousand times better.

B = Body part (Their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner's)

Leigh loves her legs, mostly because she obviously does a lot of work with them at the studio and in her classes! She doesn't mind showing them off, laying them over your lap, letting you massage her thighs while you watch movies, and she absolutely melts whenever you mark up her legs with dark hickeys.

Her favorite on you are your hands. Before she met you, she was in severe drought for a caring touch. While you were just friends, you still always met her with such love, it almost brought Leigh to tears.

C = Cum (Anything to do with cum basically)

When you first started dating, Leigh was more squeamish about it. Not in a prudish way, but she always looked away whenever you licked your soaked fingers after pulling them out of her.

Now she thinks it's hot and typically she's the one to pull you up for a kiss after you've finished eating her out.

D = Dirty Secret (Pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

It's a simple thing, something she doesn't truly need to keep secret, she just hasn't been able to figure out how to ask you for it: Leigh is fairly sure she's got a bit of a degradation kink, based off the times you've gotten more carried away and said things you apologized profusely for later.

She wishes you'd stop apologizing and call her your pretty little slut again because she's never cum harder.

E = Experience (How experienced are they? Do they know what they're doing?)

While she's very much not a virgin, Leigh had never been with a woman before she met you. That meant she often felt really out of place/unexperienced whenever she was with you, but you never looked down on her for it.

Leigh's a smart woman, hates feeling out of the loop tbh, so let's just say she was very intent on not being inexperienced for long. There was a lot of reassurances because as much as you'll never say no to Leigh wanting to take control, you didn't want to pressure her, but nowadays she is very knowledgeable and very good at what she does.

F = Favorite Position (This goes without saying. Will probably include a visual)

She loves being on top, even if you're the one calling the shots. Especially if you're using a strap. There's nothing better than that deep, full feeling when she gets to ride you until she's fully spent.

G = Goofy (Are they more serious in the moment, or are they humorous, etc)

It's very easy for Leigh to fall into her head and that's when she'll get more serious about it, or when she wants you to fuck her for a distraction. Either way, she loves that you always try and bring levity in- if you tickle her sides, she'll giggle; if you blow raspberries on her tummy, she'll poke at you for being silly.

Some days it can be hard for her to truly let go, but she appreciates it so much when she can. Leigh loves to laugh and have fun during sex, it's more satisfying for her that way!

H = Hair (How well groomed are they, does the carpet match the drapes, etc.)

The girl is so Type A I feel like she's always well groomed. Not that she waxes necessarily, I don't see her doing that all the time, maybe more for vacations or beach days. On the daily, I'd say she's trimmed and neat about it!

I = Intimacy (How are they during the moment, romantic aspect...)

She likes intimacy, but she doesn't need it to be romantic to enjoy sex. The first few times you fucked certainly were nooot intimate at all; they were quick and had no strings attached... but then she started having feelings for you.

As soon as she did, Leigh needed that intimacy, needed you to know how much she felt... her demeanor changed, her kisses lingered, she wanted sex to last longer.

If she's in a relationship, she expects some sort of intimacy even if it's just a quick wellness check in before you fuck her into the mattress.

J = Jack Off (Masturbation headcanon) 

Leigh splurged and bought herself a lovense lush toy, fully thinking it was gonna be super overhyped, but when she got it, she found out it really was just as good as it seemed. For a while she just loved the discreet nature of it, how she could put it in while she was on FaceTime with you and if she was sneaky enough, she could get herself off even while you were busy working.

Eventually she let you connect to her toy control's though and you made up for all of those times you missed out on her orgasms.

K = Kink (One or more of their kinks)

We already talked about the semi-hidden degradation kink, but on the whole, Leigh is unapologetic in asking for what she wants. This kind of goes in hand with the degradation, but she absolutely loves dirty talk.

Talking in general is a big yes from her because it helps her stay present, but talk her through her orgasm well enough- "fuck, you're taking my fingers so well, already clenching around me and everything... I want to watch you cum for me" and you'll find her eyes rolling back to her head, nails scraping down your back, etc.

L = Location (Favorite places to do the do)

Her favorite of all is bed; sometimes she thinks that makes her boring, but she doesn't care. She likes being comfortable and she can go longest by herself or with a partner sprawled out in bed.

Also it's perfect for falling asleep right after you're done and she doesn't have to worry about anything past changing her sheets after particularly messy nights.

M = Motivation (What turns them on, gets them going)

Leigh adores feeling wanted. Nothing turns her on more than watching your face light up when she wears a nice set of lingerie for your enjoyment or honestly, something as simple as telling her what a good job she's done planning a new event as work.

During sex, whispering about how good she feels, how pretty she looks, etc. can make her cum on the spot

N = NO (Something they wouldn't do, turn offs)

Any hard kinks, specifically anything that involves pain. The last thing she wants to do is hurt you or mark you permanently nor would she want you to do it to her either.

O = Oral (Preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc)

She ends up receiving most often, but doesn't have any problems giving. It's partially due to Leigh's inexperience (as we mentioned before) with going down on a woman prior to meeting you; you never want to push or overwhelm her and typically fall into making your way down her body and staying until her brain is too fuzzy to function.

That being said, Leigh isn't bad at oral by any means! She's great, you taught her well.

P = Pace (Are they fast and rough? Slow and sensual? etc.)

100% a fan of slow and sensual if she's in charge. She wants to see you, needs to know you're real and present and not going anywhere. She loves holding onto you, scratching her nails down your back, burying her face in your shoulder, really surrounding herself in all of you.

She's not opposed to rough though, loves it too, but she doesn't ask for it that often. Usually you're the one who'll manhandle her or set the tone for some fast sex that she'll fall into it. Which works because some nights the poor girl just doesn't want to think and she needs you to force it all away.

Q = Quickie (Their opinions on quickies rather than proper sex, how often, etc.)

For Leigh, they're a means to an end. She prefers proper sex, but she won't say no to a romp in the car or even in the park if you promise to be quick about it.

Occasionally she'll say no because the location embarrasses her (i.e. a store fitting room or the locker rooms at the gym), but if you get your hands on her fast enough, it's not too hard to weaken her willpower.

R = Risk (Are they game to experiment, do they take risks, etc.)

It's rare she initiates an experimental thing, mainly because she wouldn't know the first place to go looking for things to try. But if you bring something up to her and it's clear you really want to give it a go, usually you can persuade her into doing anything at least once.

Even if she complains about it.

S = Stamina (How many rounds can they go for, how long do they last...)

Ohhh when you first met her, you thought she'd tap out after just one, but you were pleasantly surprised Leigh can go all night if you pace her out enough.

She wants to hate when you do... the edging, the overly-sensitive orgasms, how sleepy she gets only to be met with your smug little grin inches away from her face... but she can't; you make her feel too good.

T = Toy (Do they own toys? Do they use them? On a partner or themselves?)

I'd say Leigh owns a few vibrators, definitely at least one dildo. She uses them on herself mostly, but there have been times where she uses them on you. She doesn't admit it often, but she loves to watch you squirm and shake, especially when she can take credit for it.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

She'll tease if she's feeling up to it, like if it's a special day or if she wants your attention. She can be very persuasive when she feels neglected!

In general, Leigh's a cute tease above anything, examples are: bending over in shorts she knows you can see her ass in, going in for a sweet kiss only to blindside you with her tongue in your mouth, sliding past you in tight spaces to wiggle against you.

V = Volume (How loud they are, what sounds they make)

Leigh tends to be fairly quiet; not because she's necessarily ashamed, but she worries that if she's too loud you'll tell her to hush.

Further into your relationship, you start noticing how she bites her lip or finger to hold herself back and you're quick to stop her, forcing her jaw open or pulling her hand away from her face. Now she knows you like to hear her... but she still makes you work for it.

W = Wild Card (Get a random headcanon for the character of your choice)

Early in your relationship, Leigh was still learning your schedule, assumed you were at bored at work, and sent you a... quite suggestive picture of herself in her post-class outfit half out of it really.

Turns out you were at home and, living pretty close to the studio, you rushed down there and fucked her in the same room you found her in. Thankfully she was between classes, but every time Leigh looks at the mirror panel in the far corner and remembers how you'd stretched out her shirt and nearly ripped her leggings with how frantically you needed to get your hands on her, she shivers.

X = X-Ray (Let's see what's going on in those pants, picture or words)

For lack of a better word, Leigh is just... beautiful. The first time you were allowed to go down on her, you stared until she closed her legs out of nerves, but as soon as you could coax her to part them again, you dove straight in.

Y = Yearning (How high is their sex drive?)

It ebbs and flows really. Some weeks she'll be on you every time you turn a corner, pulling you to some secluded area for a quick fuck, or anything she can get out of you in the limited time she bought.

Other times, when Leigh isn't having a great brain time, she's just more shy and reserved. If she asks for something, it most likely comes in the form of her arms around your waist and gentle kisses until you catch on to what she's after.

Z = ZZZ ( how quickly they fall asleep after sex)

If she's not too in her head, Leigh will snuggle up and sleep so easily, it startles you. Truly she can be mid-sentence and then you'll hear silence and after, light snoring.

Sometimes, she'll beg you to fuck her to sleep which of course, you oblige happily.

[autisticempathydaemon]

Greetings, I was referred to try these matchups by a friend of mine who had roped the rest of our house into their shenanigans so here I am: 1. Currently, it's Whose Honey Are You by Fats Waller, particularly:

"Please tell me, Have you really made your mind up Who it's gonna be? Don't you think, before we wind up, We're terrific, you and me!" it reminds me of an old club I met my spouse in and it's been coming back to my mind recently. 2. My enneagram type is Type Eight, the challenger. 3. Not truly, I enjoy documentaries but those kinds of videos ain't my cup of tea. I'm more inclined towards music. 4. I did not have an imaginary childhood friend, not that one I can remember anyways, it's been some time since I was a child. 5. Typically I don't sleep as much but I do like to do so after reading for a bit. 6. I would change it to Leopold. I don't have much of reason, I just like the name 7. I happen to like Aaron's "Your Tsundere Boss Boyfriend wants to talk" audio, it feels real in a sense and shows a lot of maturity in handling a relationship that I appreciate seeing. 8. I don't seem to get the appeal behind David Shaw, he just seems too much like a tough head and needs to get his ass beat 9. Despite their quality, I do like the Hallmark drama movies, not because I enjoy them but they're just fun to mock as I watch them. One that I know is "Til Death Do Us Part: An Aurora Teagarden Mystery" on account of how much a friend of mine watched it while I was around. 10. I do like Aaron, he's has a good head on his shoulders, I can see myself having a good talking with him over dinner. 11. I usually talk about history when I ramble, I've learned enough where I can speak on it and if I'm caught in a mood then I would be caught rambling for too long 12. I don't much indulge in that kinda food, I'm more inclined to a home-cooked meal. Something like Jambalaya would do well for me. 13. My favorite playlist would have to be one my spouse set up for me with my favorite Jazz musicians in there, I listen to it here and there. 14. I suppose the answer to this would be the same to number eight, which is hallmark movies. 15. Something else that I feel could help you to know about me is that...I like having people in my life, I don't act like it much but I do appreciate them all. I also play the Cello and I run my own shop for charms and occult items.

Hmmm… actually, let’s be real. That “hmmm…” is not real, because it’s so obvious who your match would be. How could I pair you with anyone but Camelopardalis?

Like, you like to talk about history? Awesome, Cam was there for the history (because I will believe he’s old as hell until god tells me otherwise.) You like maturity, honesty, and transparency in your relationships? Cam’s literally a therapist; I would hope he’s got all those on lock. I think your personalities and your lifestyles would be instantly compatible, and you two would connect queerplatonically or romantically with ease.

Oh, and what an easy, lovely life it would be, Cam being a perfect fit in your household. He’d get along so well with your spouse, as he strikes me as an amicable person to get along with. He loves jazz and the sound of your cello; perhaps you two even play together. (I could see Camelopardalis having picked up the piano in all of his years.) He’s an avid reader with a huge collection, so he frequently shares with you, giving you good recommendations for things to read before bed. He loves to loiter around the shop and watch you work, maybe watching the till while you’re in the back or knitting behind the counter on slower days. (Really, the only point of disagreement I could think of is that he genuinely, unironically loves Hallmark movies.)

Song:

Like a song of love that clings to me/ How the thought of you does things to me/ Never before has someone been more/ Unforgettable/ In every way/ And forevermore/ That's how you'll stay

One, it’s a jazz love song classic- the jazz love song classic, if you will. It’s also sweet, singable, and a little somber, perfect for slow dancing in the shop while the rain keeps the customers and bad things away. Two. I couldn’t resist, given Cam’s job in memory modification; it was too punny.

Runner-ups:

Hmm, so James was a pretty compelling option for you. I like his vibes as a match, but he strikes me as more of a platonic, social companion than a romantic one. Vega is a runner-up, because imagining him in your occult shop is really funny and charming. Like, that’s a sitcom right there.

note: @mr-laveau come get yo juice

Read this post and send me an ask if you’d like a match-up of your own! 💌

[chazzielynx]

Good morning, Starlight, this hell says 'hello'.

eyo, intro post (cause I never did one lol)

🪡 name is Alex or Chazzie

🪡 all pronouns except she/her

🪡 I appreciate the use of tone tags :)

🪡 this is teeeechnically my main but I treat it as a side blog and I use @creature-demon-mountain as my main blog.

🪡 meaning, this is the blog I use for redacted audio content

🪡 personal tag is chazzielynx although I'm really bad at remembering to tag my posts like that lmao

🪡 fav Bois (in no particular order... except for Avior bc I love him so god damn much, so he's number one) = Avior, Guy, Milo, Aaron, James, Ollie, Damien, Gavin, um honestly I love so many of them, I'm terrible at picking favourites help

🪡 If you ship Caelum with anyone or sexualise him in any way, I ask you to not follow me, thank you.

🪡 Given the dumpster fire that is the attack of the queerphobes lately: I am queer as fuck, and this fandom is queer as fuck and redacted audio is a safe space for all and quite frankly it's queer as fuck in and of itself so kindly fuck off if you have a problem with that.

🪡 aaaand to finish this on a funny note: favourite quote = "this is omega shit, I'm not built for this." ~ David mf Shaw

Have a nice day!

[aleburton]

xii. what now?

Alex peered beyond the tinted glass of her Range Rover, once again appreciating the scale of Zach’s multi-million-dollar home. She’d been here almost every day since his departure from the hospital, keeping him under her close observation. Not too close, however. It had taken her only a little over an hour to overstep a boundary she created by crawling into the bed with him in the middle of the night. She pretended that they had wound back the hands of the clock, delivering them to a simpler time. When things were not so complicated, so dangerous. As she tip-toed out of his bedroom the following morning, she acknowledged how harmful it was. Neither she nor Zach were masters of self-control. They had demonstrated this helplessness time and time again – from the beginning of their relationship and to the very end. In their Las Vegas suite, the beach château, the coat closet. Two frightfully charged beings who could not help but to set fire to the other.

He asked for her to remain in his life, to not abandon him like others had. She demanded he refrain from using. In order for them to honor this pact, there could be no quarrels or dramatic spectacles. They needed to be platonic. It was the only way. As such, Alex returned to her apartment each night, hoping to use the distance between them as an instrument to their success. Her feelings were still ever present, and she didn’t trust herself not to act on them whether their display be big or small. It was far too risky. They never spoke about that night. She wondered if he even remembered; couldn’t even be sure if he was awake when she entered. Whatever the case, she couldn’t allow it to happen again. Within three weeks, Zach had reclaimed his strength and seemed to be well enough to consider acquiring new management. Alex helped to field phone calls between the record label and potential hires, as they were eager for him to return to his promotional tour. Millions of dollars had been spent and number of obligations remained unfulfilled. They agreed to allow him to ease back into his role, but he needed to move.  

This morning, they agreed to meet with Amanda Shaw. She came highly recommended, productively managing another well-known artist. Some considered him to be Zach’s musical rival. Amanda had been debriefed on the current situation, as well as his rather volatile history. Somehow, she didn’t bat a single eyelash. Had she heard worse? She had been forging a plan for his return, manufacturing stories of her own to combat the rumors that swirled following Peter’s betrayal. She considered suing him but realized out of all the non-disclosure agreements that had been signed for Zach’s protection, he was not one of them. Perhaps he knew this day would come and all of the wild exploits and behaviors would make for one hell of a tell-all. Alex climbed down the car, an iced coffee in hand and approached the front door. She could hear Amanda’s trademark laugh from the other side. That was a good sign. She entered the house, ambling quietly into the living room to join them. Her eyes promptly found Zach’s and her smile stretched from one diamond-adorned ear to the other, “Morning, Superstar.”

[sylvia-forest]

[CN] Shaw's 6th Anniversary event - Day 1

⚡ Warning: This post contains detailed spoilers for an Event which hasn't been released in EN yet!⚡

[Day 1]

MC: Shaw, Shaw!! I'm now a walking koi, the ultimate lucky charm. Why don't you come and give me a big hug and share the joy?

There was no response in the room, only the clear and intense sound of buttons being pressed was heard.

From a distance, I saw Shaw in the living room, holding a controller and dominating the game world. This guy really...!

Just as I was about to rush over to "interrogate" him, the BOSS on the TV screen dramatically falls, spewing out a pile of coins and treasure chests.

Shaw: Nice! Shaw: Why is the rabbit not hopping on land and diving into the water now? The ultimate lucky charm?

Shaw, still picking up the spoils while talking, looks at me with a relaxed demeanor, showing no signs of stopping his gaming spree. I took a bold step forward and stood in front of the screen.

MC: Make sure you won't regret this attitude. Are you sure you don't want some of this good luck?

Shaw raises an eyebrow and extends his hand towards me.

MC: Alright, you know how to appreciate good luck.

I smile, opening my arms, but to my surprise, he firmly clasps my hand and pulls me to sit beside him.

Shaw: I happen to be unlocking a new weapon. Let's test out 20% of the luck first, and then I'll consider if I want to continue. MC: Okay, you're quite thorough.

He shrugs, presses a button with his other hand, and the treasure chest on the screen immediately starts shaking, revealing a dazzling golden dagger.

Shaw: ……….!

The next moment, Shaw pulls me into his arms and, without saying a word, starts manipulating the controller left and right.

With such an obvious "answer," I can't help but feel a sense of accomplishment.

MC: See, my lucky streak is truly well-deserved. Shaw: Don't show off. Are you here specifically to showcase your luck? MC: Of course not! MC: Do you remember the "Love Expedition" activity launched by the municipal hall these past few days? Shaw: Yeah, I got a text saying I won some shopping vouchers or something, but it's nothing interesting.

He pauses, raising his eyebrows as he sizes me up.

Shaw [sudden realization]: You wouldn't...? MC: Well, I actually...

I smirked and took out a brand-new set of car keys from my pocket, dangling them in front of him.

MC: Shaw, I won the grand prize—a RV!

The character on the screen suddenly halts, kicking up a cloud of dust.

Shaw [super duper shocked]: You became an island owner just this summer, and now you're pulling another stunt at the end of the year?

Shaw: ...Tsk, are you playing a prank on me using official events? MC: Hehe, open your eyes and see for yourself.

I pull out my phone to show him the lottery results page, witnessing a flash of astonishment in his eyes, which greatly satisfies my inner mischief.

MC: Moreover, the organizers offer fantastic "after-sales service" with multiple sweet travel routes for citizens to choose from.

MC: How about taking advantage of this and embarking on a nationwide RV tour?

Shaw: Sure, when do we leave? MC: Next week, of course. I've deliberately cleared an extra-long vacation for this.

I glanced at him with a hidden agenda, hoping he won't spoil the fun for himself.

Shaw: Next week? The old man asked me to join him for a field investigation. MC: Oh? Did you agree?

Seemingly surprised by my response, Shaw raises an eyebrow.

Shaw [elongates his tone]: Of course not. Shaw: You really didn't fall for it. MC: Your routine of feigned reluctance followed by agreement is too familiar. Come up with something new, Master Shaw~

I sit cross-legged, smiling, and open my phone's memo app—

MC: After all, it's our first "nationwide RV tour," so there's quite a bit to prepare. I've listed some tasks; take a look.

Shaw: ... Shaw: Tsk, you're bringing quite a lot of stuff. MC: We're visiting so many cities; we need to be well-prepared.

Shaw quickly scans through the list, his gaze stopping at the final note—

"PS: Travel guide section to be completed; will add after MC and Shaw find relevant guides."

Shaw: What does this mean? MC: Hehe, it means that for the next week, we'll each look for guides. I'll handle the food guide, and you take care of the sightseeing guide. MC: This way, we can ensure our travel experience is maximized! Shaw: Isn't that just repeating what others have done? It's not very exciting. MC: Well...

Seeing his disapproval, I quickly change the subject.

MC: Let's leave the travel plans entirely to you. MC: With you as our "folklore expert" leading the way, the journey will surely be more thrilling. What do you say?

He pauses for a moment, as if scheming something.

Shaw: Well, that's not a bad idea. But if I plan the itinerary, what will you be responsible for? MC: As for me, I'll take care of adding a touch of elegance to your itinerary. But the condition is that your "arrangements" need to be exciting enough.

Shaw lifts his chin slightly, and a glint of interest sparkles in his eyes with the afternoon sun.

Shaw [extremely happy]: Alright, let's have a trip where one plus one is greater than two.

—

Shaw: You're right; the official prize is quite generous. They really sent you a legitimate motorhome. MC: →→ What did you expect, a scale model? MC: But on a serious note, there's one thing I want to "declare" in advance— MC: Since we'll be spending the next week here, we need to decorate it nicely. Shaw: I have no objections. The car seems quite spacious. Shaw: I can bring my bass and skateboard along. MC: Great! Let's also get some flowers and plants, and set up some memories that belong to us! Shaw: (⌐■_■) It sounds like this little motorhome is going to "carry a heavy load" ahead.

—

MC: The first stop chosen by the organizers is quite nice; the scenery is fantastic! MC: But it's just too rich; I'm starting to feel overwhelmed. Shaw: (⌐■_■) Greedy people want everything, but they might miss out on great opportunities. MC: Well, you try then. I want to see how you choose from so many options. Shaw: Don't you love local delicacies? Let's fill your stomach first. MC: Good point. Let's go, let's go. I want a serving of every delicious dish!

—

Winter in the water town did little to dampen the enthusiasm of tourists. The narrow alleyways were bustling with crowds and the scent of cooking.

Briskly, Shaw led me away from the bustling area to an undeveloped ancient town. The cobblestone roads here were not as smooth as before, and the ancient houses built along the water showed signs of peeling paint and the passage of time.

MC: Wow, it's so peaceful here. Looks like someone made serious arrangements.

Shaw: Of course, I didn't drive for over ten hours to see the same old tourist spots.

As we spoke, we passed over a stone bridge, and several awning-covered boats moored along the river caught our eyes. Next to them was a wooden sign that read "Boat Ticket Office."

He glanced at it and quickened our pace.

MC: Huh? Are we going on a boat? Shaw: Of course, we're in a water town. Boss, ready for some business.

The boat, covered with woven rattan canopies, smelled of wood and freedom. Though the interior was dimly lit, sunlight streamed in through the side windows, creating a unique atmosphere.

As the boat gently swayed with the flow of the water, I curiously leaned against the window and peered outside.

Shaw: Look around all you want, but make sure to sit tight. I'm only responsible for rowing the boat, not for fishing people out.

He grasped the oar and began to paddle forward, causing ripples on the river surface as we moved slowly ahead.

The view was different from the stroll we had just taken; now, the panorama of the ancient town unfolded like a scroll painting.

A few pastoral dogs wagged their tails, weaving through the alleys, while an elderly woman sat by the river repeatedly washing clothes.

Most residents sitting in front of their houses sunbathing were looking at their phones, and faintly, the abrupt words "Little Beauty, Little Handsome" drifted into our ears.

MC: Haha, this short video is really breaking the atmosphere of antiquity. I thought we might hear some traditional folk songs by the river... Shaw: Who says we can't hear them?

He pulled out his phone and swiped a few times. At the same time, he neatly arranged the headphone cord and handed it to me.

In an instant, a melodious flute and a female voice intertwined, flowing like a mountain spring, drowning out all the modern clamor.

I lifted my head in astonishment, meeting those eyes filled with a smiling gaze.

Shaw: Don't look at me, look at the scenery.

His voice was somewhat indistinct, and I smiled as I turned my head, gazing at the "world" he had brought me to.

The willow trees on both banks swayed with the wind, and the ripples on the water reflected the fragmented waves of sunlight.

A serene and contented mood quietly surged within me, and I gently leaned on his shoulder.

MC: I didn't expect you to have such elegance. MC: I thought in a place with flowing water and small bridges like this, you would take me to do something thrilling.

Shaw: Thrilling? Like this?

With a slight tilt of his body outward, the boat immediately leaned with the motion, frightening me into holding onto him tightly.

MC [screaming]: Ahhhh—stop, stop, stop messing around! Shaw: Weren't you implying that I'm not thrilling enough? MC: That's not what I meant...! Shaw: Then what? Can't I have moments of leisure? MC: Haha, of course you can. When you're doing calligraphy or watching archaeological documentaries, you seem quite at leisure...

I blinked and smiled, and he, unusually, didn't press further, continuing to row the boat.

In the midst of the tranquility, a shout came from the shore—

?.?: Darling, come help me collect the laundry.

In response, raindrops began to fall from the boat's awning, creating ripples on the water's surface.

As if urging pedestrians to quicken their pace, the rain gradually intensified, forming a faint mist before our eyes.

MC: Why did it suddenly start raining? Could it be... Shaw : It's not my concern; this world also experiences natural precipitation.

He complained while averting his gaze, casually adding another remark.

Shaw [in a low voice]: It's just that the weather forecast was unreliable, making us late.

At this moment, a thin mist quietly descended, as if placed in an ink painting. We glimpsed at its most original appearance.

No pedestrians, no clamor, just a quiet city.

"Spring water is greener than the sky, painting boats listening to the rain and sleeping." Those verses passed down for a thousand years finally became tangible in this moment.

I stole a glance at Shaw and found him, for once, gazing earnestly at the scenery, with a subtle curve on his lips.

Could it be that he had been waiting for this moment?

Understanding his thoughts vaguely, a sweet feeling bloomed freely in my heart. I casually moved closer to him.

MC: The scenery now is even more beautiful than before, thanks to this rain.

Shaw: Do you like it? MC: I really like it. Shaw: Then, is that exciting enough? MC: Mm, Eek…

Just as I realized there was more to his words, Shaw suddenly leaned closer to me, with the boat swaying, and he smiled even more.

Shaw [clears his throat]: Now, it's your turn. What about the "finishing touch" you promised? MC [panicked]: Now?

Seeing the teasing look in his eyes, I quickly spoke up.

MC: Now is fine, but I need to think about how to add this flower to make it beautiful.

He made a meaningful "hmm" and casually rested his chin on his hand, looking at me without saying a word.

I pursed my lips, turning my gaze back to the beautiful scenery in front of us.

How could I make this moment even better...

At the very least, I wanted to make everything brighter, like the clear sky after the rain.

I contemplated until the melodious flute sounds in my ear became continuous and uplifting. A thought struck me, and I called out softly.

MC: Shaw, close your eyes.

He raised an intrigued eyebrow and willingly complied. However, when I put the other earphone on him, the noise in his ear increased a bit.

Shaw[irritatingly]: Is this your "flower"? MC: Yes, don't you like it? MC: A small boat flowing in the rain with melodious flute music... it creates a perfect atmosphere.

Shaw: So, replicating mine isn't exactly original—

In the gradually intensifying rain, I didn't respond to him anymore and gently kissed him.

The cool rain fell diagonally on our bodies, only to be quickly melted away by the warmth in our hearts.

Almost imperceptibly, Shaw chuckled softly between our lingering breaths.

Shaw [very pleased]: Hey, isn't this considered cheating? MC: Not entirely. Don't tell me you don't like it?

Shaw lowered his gaze and, seeing me approaching with anticipation, a hint of meaning suddenly appeared in his eyes.

Shaw: Your lines are too naive. MC: Whatever, if you don't want to answer. Shaw: I didn't say I won't answer, just… not now. Shaw: If you want to know the answer, remember every minute and second of the upcoming days. MC: You're keeping me in suspense again! Fine, I won't ask.

Shaw: Oh? Then you've lost more than just an answer. MC: You're just playing mysterious games; I won't fall for it.

Shaw: I'm not lying. In this trip, I've hidden something.

Amidst the misty rain, I couldn't see the color in his eyes clearly, but I noticed as he leaned a bit closer.

MC: Huh? What is it?

Shaw smiled, released his grip on me, and took hold of the oar, steering the boat forward leisurely.

Shaw: It wouldn't be fun if I told you directly. Figure it out yourself. Shaw: See if you can find it before the end of the journey.

—

🚐 Day 2

[shuxiii]

The End.

Hanni Pham x reader pt1, pt2, pt3, pt4, pt5, pt6, pt7, pt8, pt9, pt10, pt11, pt12, pt13, pt14, pt15, pt16, pt17, pt18, pt19, pt20

A/n So this is it, the verdict. I had a lot fun converting this novel, and I appreciate everyone who read it and took their time reading it. Mwa mwa credits "every day" by david levithan.

Day 6033

I wake up the next morning as Jang wonyoung. Her alarm goes off, playing a song I really like. This makes waking up much easier.

I also like her room. Plenty of books on the shelves, some of their spines worn down from rereading. There are three guitars in the corner, one electric, the amp still plugged in from the night before. In another corner, there’s a lime-green couch, and I know immediately this is a place where friends come to crash, this is their home away from home. She has Post-its all over the place with random quotes on them. On top of her computer is something from George Bernard Shaw: Dance is the perpendicular expression of a horizontal desire. Some of the Post-its are in her handwriting, but others have been written by friends. I am the walrus. I’m nobody—who are you? Let all the dreamers wake the nation.

Even before I’ve gotten to know her, Jang Wonyoung has made me smile.

Her parents are happy to see her. I have a sense that they’re always happy to see her.

“Are you sure you’re going to be okay for the weekend?” her mother asks. Then she opens the refrigerator, which looks like it’s been stocked for at least a month. “I think there’s enough here, but if you need anything, just use the money in the envelope.”

I feel something is missing here; there is something I should be doing. I access and discover it’s the Jangs’ anniversary tomorrow. They are going on an anniversary trip. And Wonyoung’s gift for them is up in her room.

“One second,” I say. I run upstairs and find it in her closet—a bag festooned with Post-its, each of them filled in with something her parents have said to her over the years, from A is for Apple to Always remember to check your blind spot. And this is just the wrapping. When I bring the bag down to Mr. and Mrs. Jang, they open it to find ten hours of music for their ten-hour drive, as well as cookies Wongyoung has baked for them.

Wonyoung’s father wraps her in a thankful hug, and Wonyoung's mother joins in.

For a moment, I forget who I really am.

Wonyoung’s locker is also covered in Post-it quotes, in a rainbow of handwritings. Her best friend, Yuri, comes by and offers her half a muffin—the bottom half, because Yuri only likes the tops.

Yuri starts telling me about Yena, a girl she’s apparently had a crush on for ages—ages meaning at least three weeks. I feel the perverse desire to tell Yuri about Hanni, who is only two towns away. I access and find that Wonyoung doesn’t have any crushes herself at the moment. Yuri doesn’t pry too much about this. And quickly other friends find them, and the talk turns to an upcoming Battle of the Bands. Apparently, Wonyoung is playing in at least three of the entrants, including Yuri’s band. She’s that kind of girl, always willing to chip in with some music.

As the day progresses, I can’t help but feel that Wonyoung is the kind of person I try to be. But part of what makes her personality work is her ability to stick around, to be there day in and day out for people. Her friends rely on her, and she relies on them—the simple balance on which so many lives are built.

I decide to make sure that this is true. I zone out of math class and tune in instead to Wonyoung’s memories. The way I access her, it’s like turning on a hundred televisions at the same time, I’m seeing so many parts of her at once. The good memories. The hard memories.

Her father doesn’t want her to spend so much time on the guitar, tells her music is a dead-end calling. She drinks her third can of Red Bull, trying to finish a paper at four in the morning because she was out with friends until one. She is climbing the ladder of a tree house. She is failing her driver’s test and fighting back tears when the instructor tells her. She is alone in her room, playing the same tune over and over again on an acoustic guitar, trying to figure out what it means. She is on a swing set, six years old, going higher and higher until she is convinced this is it, this is the time she will fly. She is slipping money into Yuri’s wallet while Yuri isn’t looking, so later on Yuri will be able to pay her share of the check. She is dressed as the Tin Man on Halloween. Her mother has burned her hand on the stove and she doesn’t know what to do. The first morning she has her license, she drives to the ocean to watch the sunrise. She is the only one there.

I stop there. I stop at this. I lurch back into myself. I don’t know if I can do this.

I can’t block out the temptation that Poole offered: If I could stay in this life, would I? Every time I pose the question to myself, I get knocked back into my own life from Wonyoung’s. I get ideas, and once they take hold, I can’t stop them.

What if there really was a way to stay?

Every person is a possibility. The hopeless romantics feel it most acutely, but even for others, the only way to keep going is to see every person as a possibility. The more I see the Wonyoung that the world reflects back at her, the more of a possibility she seems. Her possibility is grounded in the things that mean the most to me. Kindness. Creativity. Engagement in the world. Engagement in the possibilities of the people around her.

The day is nearly half over. I only have a short time to figure out what to do with Wonyoung’s possibilities.

The clock always ticks. There are times you don’t hear it, and there are times that you do.

I email Haruto and ask him for Poole’s email address. I get a quick response. I email Poole a few simple questions.

I get another quick response.

I email Hanni and tell her I’m going to come by this afternoon.

I say it’s important.

She tells me she’ll be there.

Wonyoung has to tell Yuri that she can’t make their band practice after school.

“Hot date?” Yuri asks, joking.

Wonyoung smiles mischievously and leaves it at that.

Hanni is waiting for me at the bookstore. It’s become our place.

She knows me when I walk through the door. Her eyes follow me as I come closer. She doesn’t smile, but I do. I am so grateful to see her.

“Hey,” I say.

“Hey,” she says.

She wants to be here, but she doesn’t think it’s a good idea. She is also grateful, but she is sure this gratitude will turn into regret.

“I have an idea,” I tell her.

“What?”

“Let’s pretend this is the first time we’ve ever met. Let’s pretend you were here to get a book, and I happened to bump into you. We struck up a conversation. I like you. You like me. Now we’re sitting down to coffee. It feels right. You don’t know that I switch bodies every day. I don’t know about your ex or anything else. We’re just two people meeting for the first time.”

“But why?”

“So we don’t have to talk about everything else. So we can just be with each other. Enjoy it.”

“I don’t see the point—”

“No past. No future. Just present. Give it a chance.”

She looks torn. She leans her chin on her fist and looks at me. Finally, she decides.

“It’s very nice to meet you,” she says. She doesn’t understand it yet, but she’s going to go with it.

I smile. “It’s very nice to meet you, as well. Where should we go?”

“You decide,” she says. “What’s your favorite place?”

I access Wonyoung, and the answer is right there. As if she’s handing it to me.

My smile grows wider.

“I know just the place,” I say. “But first we’ll need groceries.”

Because this is the first time we’ve met, I don’t have to tell her about Haruto or Poole or anything else that’s happened or about to happen. The past and future are what’s complicated. It’s the present that’s simple. And that simplicity is the sensation of it being just her and me.

Even though there are only a few things we need, we get a shopping cart and go down every aisle of the grocery store. It doesn’t take long before Hanni is standing on the front of it, I’m standing on the back of it, and we are riding as fast as we can.

We set down a rule: Every aisle has to have a story. So in the pet-food aisle, I learn more about Swizzle, the malevolent bunny rabbit. In the produce aisle, I tell her about the day I went to summer camp and had to be part of a greased-watermelon pull, and how I ended up with three stitches after the watermelon shot out of everyone’s arms and landed in my eye—the first case of watermelon abuse the hospital had ever seen. In the cereal aisle, we offer autobiographies in the form of the cereals we’ve eaten over the years, trying to pinpoint the year that the cereal turning the milk blue stopped being cool and started being gross.

Finally, we have enough food for a vegetarian feast.

“I should call my mom and tell her I’m eating at Yeeun’s,” Hanni says, taking out her phone.

“Tell her you’re staying over,” I suggest.

She pauses. “Really?”

“Really.”

But she doesn’t make a move to call.

“I’m not sure that’s a good idea.”

“Trust me,” I say. “I know what I’m doing.”

“You know how I feel.”

“I do. But still, I want you to trust me. I’m not going to hurt you. I will never hurt you.”

She calls her mother, tells her she’s at Yeeun’s. Then she calls Yeeun and makes sure the cover story will be intact. Yeeun asks her what’s going on. Hanni says she’ll tell her later.

“You’ll tell her you met a girl,” I say once she’s hung up.

“A girl I just met?”

“Yeah,” I say. “A girl you’ve just met.”

We go back to Wonyoung’s house. There’s barely enough room in the refrigerator for the groceries we’ve bought.

“Why did we bother?” Hanni asks.

“Because I didn’t notice what was in here this morning. And I wanted to make sure we had exactly what we desired.”

“Do you know how to cook?”

“Not really. You?”

“Not really.”

“I guess we’ll figure it out. But first, there’s something I want to show you.”

She likes Wonyoung’s bedroom as much as I do. I can tell. She loses herself in reading the Post-it notes, then runs her finger over the spines of the books. Her face is a picture of delight.

Then she turns to me, and the fact can’t be denied: We’re in a bedroom, and there’s a bed. But that’s not why I brought her here.

“Time for dinner,” I say. Then I take her hand and we walk away together.

We fill the air with music as we cook. We move in unison, move in tandem. We’ve never done this together before, but we establish our rhythm, our division of labor. I can’t help but think this is the way it could always be—the easygoing sharing of space, the enjoyable silence of knowing each other. My parents are away, and my girlfriend has come over to help cook dinner. There she is, chopping vegetables, unaware of her posture, unaware of the wildness of her hair, even unaware that I am staring at her with so much love. Outside our kitchen-size bubble, the nighttime sings. I can see it through the window, and also see her reflection mapped out on top of it. Everything is in its right place, and my heart wants to believe this can always be true. My heart wants to make it true, even as something darker tugs it away.

It’s past nine by the time we’re finished.

“Should I set the table?” Hanni asks, gesturing to the dining room.

“No. I’m taking you to my favorite place, remember?”

I find two trays and arrange our meals on them. I even find a dozen candlesticks to take along. Then I lead Hanni out the back door.

“Where are we going?” she asks once we’re in the yard.

“Look up,” I tell her.

At first she doesn’t see it—the only light is coming from the kitchen, drifting out to us like the afterglow from another world. Then, as our eyes adjust, it becomes visible to her.

“Nice,” she says, walking over so that Wonyoung’s tree house looms over us, the ladder at our fingertips.

“There’s a pulley system,” I say, “for the trays. I’ll go up and drop it down.”

I grab two of the candles and scurry up the ladder. The inside of the tree house matches Wonyoung’s memories pretty well. It’s as much a rehearsal space as a tree house, with another guitar in the corner, as well as notebooks full of lyrics and music. Even though there’s an overhead light that could be turned on, I rely on candles. Then I send down the dumbwaiter and raise the trays one by one. As soon as the second tray is safely inside, Hanni joins me.

“Pretty cool, isn’t it?” I ask as she looks around.

“Yeah.”

“It’s all her. Her parents don’t come up here.”

“I love it.”

There isn’t any table and there aren’t any chairs, so we sit cross-legged on the floor and eat, facing each other in the candlelight. We don’t rush it—we let the taste of the moment sink in. I light more candles, and revel in the sight of her. We don’t need the moon or the sun in here. She is beautiful in our own light.

“What?” she asks.

I lean over and kiss her. Just once.

“That,” I say.

She is my first and only love. Most people know that their first love will not be their only love. But for me, she is both. This will be the only chance I give myself. This will never happen again.

There are no clocks in here, but I am aware of the minutes, aware of the hours. Even the candles conspire, getting shorter as time grows shorter. Reminding me and reminding me and reminding me.

I want this to be the first time we’ve met. I want this to be two teenagers on a first date. I want to already be planning the second date in my head. And the third.

But there are other things I have to say, other things I have to do.

When we’re finished, she pushes the trays aside. She closes the distance between us. I think she’s going to kiss me, but instead she reaches into her pocket. She pulls out one of Wonyoung’s pads of Post-it notes. She pulls out a pen. Then she draws a heart on the top Post-it, peels it off, and places it on my heart.

“There,” she says.

I look down at it. I look up at her.

“I have to tell you something,” I say.

I mean I have to tell her everything.

I tell her about Haruto I tell her about Poole. I tell her I might not be the only one. I tell her there might be a way to stay in a body longer. There might be a way not to leave.

The candles are burning down. I am taking too much time. It’s almost eleven when I’m done.

“So you can stay?” she asks when I’m finished. “Are you saying you can stay?”

“Yes,” I answer. “And no.”

When first love ends, most people eventually know there will be more to come. They are not through with love. Love is not through with them. It will never be the same as the first, but it will be better in different ways.

I have no such consolation. This is why I cling so hard. This is why this is so hard.

“There might be a way to stay,” I tell her. “But I can’t. I’ll never be able to stay.”

Murder. When it all comes down to it, it would be murder to stay. No love can outbalance that.

Hanni pulls away from me. Stands up. Turns on me.

“You can’t do this!” she yells. “You can’t swoop in, bring me here, give me all this—and then say it can’t work. That’s cruel, Yn. Cruel.”

“I know,” I say. “That’s why this is a first date. That’s why this is the first time we’ve ever met.”

“How can you say that? How can you erase everything else?”

I stand up. Walk over. Wrap my arms around her. At first she resists, wants to pull away. But then she gives in.

“She’s a good person,” I say, my voice a broken whisper. I don’t want to do this, but I have to do this. “She might even be a great girl. And today’s the day you first met. Today’s your first date. She’s going to remember being in the bookstore. She’s going to remember the first time she saw you, and how she was drawn to you, not just because you’re beautiful, but because she could see your strength. She could see how much you want to be a part of the world. She’ll remember talking with you, how easy it was, how engaging. She’ll remember not wanting it to end, and asking you if you wanted to do something else. She’ll remember you asking her, her favorite place, and she’ll remember thinking about here, and wanting to show it to you. The grocery store, the stories in the aisles, the first time you saw her room—that will all be there, and I won’t have to change a single thing. Her pulse is my heartbeat. The pulse is the same. I know she will understand you. You have the same kind of heart.”

“But what about you?” Hanni asks, her voice breaking, too.

“You’ll find the things in her that you find in me,” I tell her. “Without the complications.”

“I can’t just switch like that.”

“I know. She’ll have to prove it to you. Every day, she’ll have to prove she’s worthy of you. And if she doesn’t, that’s it. But I think she will.”

“Why are you doing this?”

“Because I have to go, Hanni. For real this time. I have to go far away. There are things I need to find out. And I can’t keep stepping into your life. You need something more than that.”

“So this is goodbye?”

“It’s goodbye to some things. And hello to others.”

I want her to remember how it feels to hold her. I want her to remember how it feels to share the world with her. I want her, somewhere inside, to remember how much I love her. And I want her to learn to love her in her own way, having nothing to do with me.

I had to ask Poole if it was really possible. I had to ask him if he could really teach me.

He promised he could. He told me we could work together.

There was no hesitation. No warning. No acknowledgment of the lives we’d be destroying.

That’s when I knew for sure I had to run away.

She holds me. She holds me so hard there’s no thought in it of letting go.

“I love you,” I tell her. “Like I’ve never loved anyone before.”

“You always say that,” she says. “But don’t you realize it’s the same for me? I’ve never loved anyone like this, either.”

“But you will,” I say. “You will again.”

If you stare at the center of the universe, there is a coldness there. A blankness. Ultimately, the universe doesn’t care about us. Time doesn’t care about us.

That’s why we have to care about each other.

The minutes are passing. Midnight is approaching.

“I want to fall asleep next to you,” I whisper.

This is my last wish.

She nods, agrees.

We leave the tree house, run quickly through the night to get back to the light of the house, the music we’ve left behind. 11:13. 11:14. We go to the bedroom and take off our shoes. 11:15. 11:16. She gets in the bed and I turn off the lights. I join her there.

I lie on my back and she curls into me. I am reminded of a beach, an ocean.

There is so much to say, but there’s no point in saying it. We already know.

She reaches up to my cheek, turns my head. Kisses me. Minute after minute after minute, we kiss.

“I want you to remember that tomorrow,” she says.

Then we return to breathing. We return to lying there. Sleep approaches.

“I’ll remember everything,” I tell her.

“So will I,” she promises.

I will never have a photograph of her to carry around in my pocket. I will never have a letter in her handwriting, or a scrap-book of everything we’ve done. I will never share an apartment with her in the city. I will never know if we are listening to the same song at the same time. We will not grow old together. I will not be the person she calls when she’s in trouble. She will not be the person I call when I have stories to tell. I will never be able to keep anything she’s given to me.

I watch her as she falls asleep next to me. I watch her as she breathes. I watch her as the dreams take hold.

This memory.

I will only have this.

I will always have this.

She will remember this, too. She will feel this. She will know it’s been a perfect afternoon, a perfect evening.

She will wake up next to her, and she will feel lucky.

Times moves on. The universe stretches out. I take a Post-it of a heart and move it from my body to hers. I see it sitting there.

I close my eyes. I say goodbye. I fall asleep.

Day 6034

I wake up two hours away, in the body of a girl named Lee Hyein.

Hyein doesn’t know it, but today she’s going far away from here. It will be a total disruption to her routine, a complete twist in the way her life is supposed to go. But she has the luxury of time to smooth it out. Over the course of her life, this day will be a slight, barely noticeable aberration.

But for me, it is the change of the tide. For me, it is the start of a present that has both a past and a future.

For the first time in my life, I run.

[cellarspider]

18/?? Alexa, play Despacito

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And now, we return to Prometheus, which is trying to redeem the last two fifths of itself through blood sacrifice. Content warning for discussion of eyeball nastiness and death by immolation, Holloway.

Taking things slightly out of chronology this time, because there’s an excellent, quiet scene sandwiched in between lots of screaming: I'm sure they meant to put it in juxtaposition with this to heighten the emotion, but I refuse. We'll save that one for later. As a treat for me. And now, as a treat for me, Holloway is dying! Hurray!

So, turns out we’re spinning the wheel of Inconsistent, Ominous Black Goo effects again, and landed on “hangovers aren’t supposed to make your eyes grow tentacles”.

Holloway, apparently in denial, does not recall this fact until he’s gone out with what could generously be called a rescue party, to try and locate Millburn and Fifield. Janek belatedly and unwisely goes along to help, while David appears to go on a pleasant Sunday drive in his golf cart. He’s heading to a better scene, the lucky scamp.

Millburn is very dead–a rubber snake jumps out of his mouth, so you know he’s toast. Fifield’s body is nowhere to be found, and it will make an underwhelming return later.

Holloway collapses, covered in creeping black veins. Shaw finds this distressing. I would be fascinated to know if anybody in the audience agreed with her. I usually would, if only because certain kinds of screaming can kick me into sensory overload, but apparently there’s a psychological component to that response. And so I placidly watched Vickers meet them at the Prometheus vehicle bay with a flamethrower.

I appreciate her belated interest in quarantine and sanitation, but frankly, it’s a little late for that. I already had my rant on that earlier. At this point, things have gotten so bad that even Holloway realizes that the only solution is to go 40k on his ass.

[Video description: A 40k meme clipped from TheRussianBadger’s review of the game Space Hulk: Deathwing: A player says “BROTHER. GET THE FLAMER. THE HEAVY. FLAMER.” Sudden cut to almost incomprehensibly fiery gameplay, with a dramatic choral soundtrack and in-game voice lines “WE ARE THE ANGELS OF DEATH!” “MY FURY IS MADE MANIFEST!”, and ends right before a player yells “I WOULD LIKE TO REGISTER A COMPLAINT” and spins wildly around, spraying flames everywhere.]

Yes, Holloway burns to a crisp! I don’t know what the movie wants me to feel here, but whatever it is, I did not feel it. Did it want me to feel sad about this, because Shaw doesn’t want this to happen? Does it intend to raise the tension by having things spiral further out of control, demonstrating that a drop of the Ominous Black Goo is enough to kill a man in under a day? Am I supposed to take sick satisfaction in watching him die? All these are possible in bog standard horror movies.

However, this is a movie that wants to speak to something thematically. Holloway is positioned as a character we are not necessarily supposed to find sympathetic. As previously mentioned, the Engineers did not invite humanity to this planet. They were warning humans that if they continued to stray in their behavior, they would be killed by something that would come from here. 

Perhaps we are thus supposed to be asking questions about this: why would the Engineers do this? Why create humanity and then threaten to destroy their creations? What was their justification? David has turned this weapon on Holloway, making the choice that at least one man deserves the fate the Engineers planned for all humanity. Does he deserve that? Does anyone?

I was not thinking any of those things in the theater. Because what I actually felt was a desire to return to the scene interwoven with this one, which we will get to next time. This is the danger of creating an unlikeable, expendable character: the audience may feel no pathos when they die, nor question the death’s necessity. If they’re not along for the ride, then they may simply shrug.

Particularly when the rest of the movie is such a mess. This is only their second day on the planet, does anyone else remember that? I mean, I’ve been here for what feels like eternity, but they behaved so stupid, so fast, that this feels less like the inevitable falling apart of dozens of smaller mistakes, and more like one gigantic katamari of mistakes that will not stop rolling until it has collected every mistake in the world, and is thus deemed worthy of becoming a star all on its own, to forever shine out how badly they fucked it all up.

Next time: one of the two good scenes people tend to remember.

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⛬

Citations for alt-text rambles:

https://www.swtor.com/ 

https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCSpFnDQr88xCZ80N-X7t0nQ 

https://youtu.be/vy5fgDvb9-c HYEEh-HAA!

Overflow Ramble, because tumblr lets you put in more alt-text than it will actually display in-browser:

A wide shot of Holloway with his arms outstretched, walking toward the vehicle bay ramp. Is this pose supposed to be a crucifixion allusion? I hope not! That would be baffling. Though as these posts have proven, something being baffling doesn’t rule out Prometheus doing it. Shaw is on the ground behind them, restrained by Janek. 

I’m trying to figure out if this was done on a studio stage, or on location. You’d think the latter wouldn’t be possible, but I’ve seen behind the scenes shots of them filming in the volcanic desert of Iceland, they definitely were in places that looked similar. But the background may still be fake after a certain point–outdoor green screens are a thing. 

The lighting on Janek and Shaw doesn’t quite feel right. Part of it’s the shadows: they’re darker on the people than in the background, which is a common problem for CG elements.The visual fidelity of the gravel behind them kind of has a sudden shift about halfway up Shaw’s head, and I’m not sure if that’s just focus or what.

If it is a composite of real and CG, it makes sense that it looks a bit off, though: these are background elements that are not supposed to be your main focus, on a shot that’s not held for too long. There’s always been trade-offs like that in visual effects, they’ve just shifted over the years. Anyway, back to Charlize Theron with a flamethrower.

⛬

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[awkward-clone]

Ok think I’ve finally got my thoughts together on the bright situation and im just gonna say it.

Its not gonna work.

It basically is just slapping on a new name on dr bright and calling it a day. Like. No matter what u do its the same character, it does nothing. Djkaktus said it himself that he was “always writing elias shaw.” That “any similarities are just a coincidence.”

So its funny seeing some of the ppl thats on board with this claim that “u cant separate the art from the artist” and yet that’s exactly what they're trying to achieve. Except, u know, the community had already done that a long time ago, ripping bright out of the hands of admin bright. So really, no change is actually being made.

Anyway with that out of the way I do want to address some concerns about djkaktus.

I’ve been looking around and have seen people mentioning that the dude:

1. Was quiet about the admin bright thing when it was happening along with actually being one of the people trying to cover it up

2. Had been banning people simply cuz they didn’t like his works

3. he’s an alleged predator

Now I havent personally found much relating to this other than people's words on it on tumblr. Tho someone on insta has told me that djkaktus was extremely quiet during the bright situation. Which yea it took an entire year after admin bright was banned to only now bring up this elias shaw bs.

Now if anyone has sources on any of this, links, screenshots, anything, it’d be a great help if ya can send it to me via replying to this post or dm-ing me. It would better help spread this awareness around.

Also regarding articles that had brights name replaced w/ SA jokes that haven’t been edited out which is something else that also has been mentioned to me, would appreciate it to get more scps/tales listed regarding that. Only got 4498 so far which has a really bad um…”butt stabbing” joke...I mostly did skim read it so I’ll have a proper read at some point.

Tldr:

- Elias Shaw is pointless and does nothing.

- People who are saying u can't separate art from artists are tryna separate bright from author.

- Djkaktus was quiet during the admin bright situation and potentially was tryna cover it up, has been banning ppl for not liking his stuff, is an alleged predator and hasnt edited out sa jokes in articles where he changed bright’s name.

Correct me if I’m wrong on anything or anything like that.

Edit: reminder to take the djkaktus stuff as a grain of salt (especially the predator allegations) as it did come from pixelated harmony who did in fact doxxed someone

Source:

Still I stand by that he was quiet about admin bright though and of course I still don’t believe the elias shaw thing is gonna work

edit edit edit: things are messy. u can look in the comments for more info I don't rlly know what to say beyond this point.