#Monster train is my second most played game

[deskmanic]

Monster train 2 announced let's gooo

[randomshyperson]

hello!! I hope you are well. May I add a request to the “touch ask” game? Wanda-Touch-25? Please and thank you. Maybe as a continuation of Wanda and Kryptonian reader?This pairing of my new favourite and you write it so beautifully.

thanks for everything!

Wanda Maximoff x Reader - Drabbles

prompt: stroking the other's arm soothingly | words: 1123 | warnings: fluff, violence (?), previously agreed mind control, some touching but nothing inappropriate (the Avengers would disagree ofc).

challenge masterlist | general masterlist

-&- 

Kryptonians had indestructible and invulnerable bodies. They were bulletproof, heatproof, or coldproof. You could probably out-strength gods like Thor or radioactive monsters like the Hulk.

But magic? Well, that was different.

Somehow, magic could break through every biological barrier in your body and bring you to your knees.

That was precisely why Natasha Romanoff always had Wanda as your training partner.

"Come on, guys, no slacking off. I want four sequences, everyone." The widow announced with a warning clap, while the entire team groaned in unison. Even the super soldiers present had some difficulty completing the demanding exercises of a black widow. 

You were moving to grab your training gloves for the exercise circuit when Natasha called your name. "Not so fast, little alien. You and Maximoff, mat." 

Wanda smiled contentedly at the same time you sighed in discouragement, just as the team got excited and started whistling. See, you were indestructible. Watching you get your ass kicked every now and then was everyone's favorite pastime there. Ignoring Natasha's smirk as you passed her, you tried to stay positive about the whole thing. At least you were working on your humility with your favorite person in the world. 

"I'll go easy on you." Wanda assured you, already on the mat, hands in a fighting position. You chuckle, imitating her defensive stance, even though it wouldn't make any difference. 

"As if."

Truth be told, you're the one who always goes easy on her. Wanda has the magical advantage, of course, but that's it. If you wanted, you could use your speed to easily immobilize her. But the risk of hurting her small human body - a caution you don't need to take with fellow gods or augmented beings - is too high.

So the most you can guarantee to make her training difficult is to dodge her energy attacks, until she loses her patience and stops acting like a sniper, and starts acting like a real witch.

You stumble gently as you feel the familiar invasion. It's like being intoxicated. Wanda is always gentle when she does this. She's learned to hone her mind control very well, without having to reduce her opponents to babbling versions of pure panic. Now, she can enchant them like a mermaid, or perhaps, she only chooses to do it this way with you.

The gym around you becomes a little blurry, and all you see clearly is her, smiling victoriously at you.

"Ready to call it a defeat? Or do you want me to kick your ass a little longer?" She teases as she takes slow steps towards you. It's an illusion, of course, you're sure she hasn't even moved a muscle in reality, and all of this shouldn't have taken more than a second.

You chuckle weakly. This kind of thing has been getting more and more dangerous. Keeping secrets from someone who occasionally plays with your mind is very difficult. Wanda taught you to stay calm in these situations, but all you can do is remind yourself that you're keeping your feelings buried, away from her, and you start to despair.

She notices your anxiety, and the confidence disappears from her expression.

"Hey, are you alright?" She asks, maybe this time, her footsteps towards you were real. You're panicked enough that you can't tell the difference.

Freaking out during a mind control is stupid. And even worse for someone who has powers like yours. Wanda gets close enough to touch your face, and you remember last week when you accidentally saw too much skin when she changed clothes in your room. The shame and guilt return, and you pull away, terrified that she will be able to see that memory.

Your panic in that vulnerable state stimulates your powers, and Wanda exclaims in surprise when the beam of your heat vision advances and grazes near her head. Her fright interrupts the magic, and your release is immediate when Wanda hits your shoulder with a strong magical expel, which throws you about three steps back.

Natasha crosses her arms in disapproval and all the Avengers are looking at you two, while a new hole in the ceiling of the academy appears.

"What the hell you two! What did I tell you about mind tricks?" The black Widow inquires in disapproval, but Wanda is rushing to your support, concern on her features.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to-"

You interrupt her with "I'm fine, don't worry" forcing a small smile. As you try to lift your torso correctly and raise your arm to touch her, you groan in pain and Wanda's eyes widen, as does the whole team. At the feeling, you end up chuckling a little breathlessly. "Wow, that's... surprising. Looks like you set a new record here, Wands. First person to make me feel muscle pain." The team laughs at the joke, but Wanda isn't very happy about it. Natasha forgets about the scolding because she's too interested in discussing with Steve the progress of the two of you in training, and well, you get too distracted with Wanda caressing your arms in an attempt to ease the pain. 

"Is it really that bad?" She asks with a worried frown. She must be feeling guilty enough not to realize what she's doing - how she’s touching you.

You try not to be so pathetic, it's an innocent gesture, but maybe it's too gentle or too warm to ignore. She strokes your arms soothingly, trying to apologize while murmuring that she's sorry for hitting you. And it only takes a moment longer for Wanda to get distracted with what she was doing - Not that you have any way of knowing that she's starting to notice the strong Kryptonian anatomy a little too much, and how feeling strong arms was the real reason she sighed and shook her head, pushing away thoughts she definitely shouldn't be having about her best friend.

Sharing the same warm pink in her cheeks as you, her hands moved away, and Wanda cleared her throat, trying to hide her own reactions while you hid yours.

"So... do you want to get something to eat? I'm starving."

She chuckles shortly. "You're always starving, darling." She teases, and well, she's right so you can't even argue.

Distracted by each other's presence, you soon lose yourself in small talk as you head toward the kitchen, and neither of you notices Sam or Clint grimacing at the scene they've just witnessed.

"That has to be the gayest thing I've ever seen in my entire life." The falcon grumbled in disbelief.

The hawk next to him massaged his forehead in a frown. "I should have retired already. I would have been less traumatized."

They shake their heads in unison, and then go back to training.

[allmoshnobrain]

kinktober 2024 masterlist | day two

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

dean winchester x reader | gun play

✦ on this fic: NSFW!!!, +18, mxf sex, gun play, early seasons dean

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

You wanted to become a hunter. You really did.

It was hard not to want it, not after some freak disease tore through your town, turning your family and friends into monsters, leaving you the only one standing. Not after everything you knew in your life just crumbled, replaced by fear, anger and hatred — the need to get revenge, to make whoever caused all this hurt pay, or at least stop them from existing in the most painful way possible.

You wanted to become a hunter.

But damn, it was harder than you ever thought it’d be.

Putting all the emotional stuff aside, trying to get fit and strong wasn’t exactly on your radar back then. But when life flips on you, you’ve got to roll with it. Different situations, different game plans. You’d do whatever it took to get strong enough to take down as many monsters as possible, as fast as you could.

The Winchesters had your back from the moment they met you. After pulling you out of the mess you’d been through, they took you to Bobby’s place while you tried to piece your life back together. When you told them you wanted to be a hunter, Sam was the first to try and talk you out of it. But Dean — Dean got it. He knew exactly what that fire burning in your chest felt like. He knew there was no way you’d walk away from chasing your revenge.

And that’s how Dean ended up teaching you the basics. While Sam and Bobby were out of town chasing a lead on a new case, you and Dean spent whatever time you could practicing — shooting, self-defense, throwing punches, sure, but also learning about the different creatures out there, their weak spots, and how to take them down.

You were great at the book stuff. The physical part? Not so much.

“You still got a lot to learn,” Dean said, and you could hear the frustration in his voice. He’d been trying to teach you some self-defense skills for the past hour, but you hadn’t really made much progress. “You can’t go hunting if you can’t even defend yourself.”

“I’m trying,” you shot back, frowning, feeling just as frustrated. “I’m not you, okay? I haven’t been doing this my whole life!”

“I know, I know,” he sighed, running a hand through his hair, giving you a look like he was trying to figure you out. “Maybe we should just take a break. You’ll probably do better tomorrow,” he suggested, though even he didn’t sound convinced.

You ended up going back upstairs to the guest room you were crashing in, grabbing some clothes, and heading to the bathroom. Maybe a warm bath would help loosen up your sore muscles from all the intense training you’d been doing for the past few weeks.

You knew Dean was probably waiting for you to come back down eventually to study more about the creatures you’d be up against — or, realistically, he’d spend hours bragging about his past hunts as a way to teach you the ropes — but you just weren’t feeling it. The frustration from your slow progress was really starting to get to you. You wondered if he’d even bother to come looking for you if you stayed in your room until morning.

Unfortunately, you got your answer pretty quick — right after you got back from your shower, hair still damp, muscles still kinda sore. The second you opened the door to your room, someone grabbed your wrist, their grip way stronger than yours. You yelped, heart pounding with shock and fear, and you were just about to yell for Dean, thinking something broke into the house, when you felt the cold barrel of a gun press into your back.

“Surprise, honey,” Dean said, and you struggled in his grip, trying to shake loose from his hold on your wrist.

“Dean, what the hell?” you yelled, and he grunted when you tried to stomp on his foot, just pulling you in closer, his chest pressed against your back while his gun dug into your lower back.

“Gonna have to do better than that, sweetheart. Come on, you got this,” he mumbled, his breath warm against your neck. You took your shot and elbowed him in the stomach. He let out a low grunt, his grip on your wrist loosening just enough for you to break free. You turned to face him, breathing hard, your face burning with anger.

“What the fuck, Dean?” you snapped. He had the nerve to smile, like scaring you half to death was just some kind of joke. You glanced at the gun in his hands and then back at his face, your frown deepening. “Is that shit loaded?”

“Of course it isn’t loaded,” he said, digging into his pocket and pulling out the bullet cartridge to prove it. You huffed, shooting him a death glare for that stupid grin. “Come on, sweets. I just wanted to see how you’d handle some pressure. Gotta say, it was way more entertaining than our regular training.”

“That’s not funny, Dean,” you shot back, and he just laughed.

“Funny or not, you still got me to let you go, didn’t you?” He grinned, and you rolled your eyes, feeling some of your anger slip away, but not all of it. Your heart skipped a beat when he stepped in closer, using the gun to lift your chin. “You think too much. You gotta go with your gut a bit more.”

You looked up at him, your breath hitching and your cheeks warming, not missing that little smirk on his lips as he stared down at you, tension bubbling in your stomach like a wave. He leaned in closer, his breath warm against your ear:

“You’re not gonna make it as a hunter if you freeze up like prey every time you see a gun, honey.”

You grunted, trying to snatch the gun from him in one quick move, but he was quicker. He grabbed your shoulder and shoved you against the wall, putting his knee between your legs and trapping you with his body.

“You scared of this?” he asked, glancing at the gun in his hand. You didn’t reply, just shot him a glare filled with anger. He scoffed. “What’s the matter? Cat got your tongue?”

“Thought you were having enough fun yapping away by yourself,” you muttered. “Can you let me go? Please?”

He chuckled softly but finally pulled back. You let out a sigh, rubbing your wrist where he had grabbed you. It was a bit sore, and oh, how you wished you could make him pay for it.

“You're such a jerk,” you growled, and he raised an eyebrow. Oh, you caught on. He's getting annoyed.

“I was just trying to help you, dumbass,” he said, pressing the cold metal of the gun against your cheek. “That pretty face of yours isn’t gonna get you far when you’re up against someone with a gun.”

“I thought we were killing monsters,” you shot back, and he rolled his eyes.

“Don’t play dumb. Some monsters know how to use guns if they have to,” he said, his gun sliding from your cheek down to your neck, then your collarbone. You let out a shaky breath when it traced the edge of your shirt, pulling it down a bit. You felt your cheeks heat up, your nipples stiff against the fabric of your shirt, a reminder that you weren’t wearing a bra. “You keep looking at me like that, sweetheart, and I might just think you’re into this.”

“Cut it out, Dean,” you breathed, your face going red. He laughed softly, stepping closer.

“You know, maybe I deserve a little reward for being such a great teacher, don’t you think?” he whispered, slowly. “How about you take your shirt off for me?”

“Oh, so you have to hold people at gunpoint to get them to strip for you?” you shot back, a sharp smirk on your lips.

“Fuck off,” he grunted, and then his mouth was on yours, lips rough and demanding as his tongue tasted your mouth. You grabbed the front of his shirt, a mix of annoyance and desire washing over you as he pressed his body into yours. “Wait, let me just stash this,” he said, looking for a place to put his gun, but you grabbed his wrist.

“Don’t,” you whispered, your face heating up. He blinked, eyebrows shooting up as he pulled back a bit.

“Oh, so you’re a little freaky, huh?” he teased, and you rolled your eyes.

“Shut up,” you growled before pulling him in for another kiss. He grunted against your lips, his free hand tugging off your shirt. You yelped when he spun you around, shoving you toward the bed like it was no big deal. No wonder you were struggling with self-defense against someone this strong.

“Maybe you’re finding our training tough 'cause you kinda like being held like this, huh?” Dean grunted, his voice low as he bent you over the bed, your cheek pressing into the mattress. “Wrists,” he ordered, and you quickly put your hands behind your back. He chuckled, clearly surprised at how obedient you were, his big hand locking onto both your wrists with a solid grip.

You bit your lip as he set the gun down on the bed right in front of you, then used his free hand to slide your pants and panties down to your ankles. You shivered, a soft sigh escaping your lips as his fingertips circled your wetness. He let out a low hum and pushed a couple of fingers inside slowly.

“Dean,” you gasped. He grabbed his gun again, the cold metal gliding along your spine.

“Be good now,” he whispered, and you let out a whimper as he pressed the flat top of the barrel against your pussy, rubbing the cold steel against your clit. “Maybe that’s exactly what you need, huh? Just a little release? I can help with that.”

“Please,” you moaned, closing your eyes, and he chuckled softly, pushing his gun harder against your wetness. You gasped as tension started to build in your belly, your legs shaking a bit. “Dean, I—”

“Shush, honey,” he whispered, moving the gun gently. “Just let go, beautiful.”

“Don’t talk like that,” you whined, and he laughed. You moved your hips in slow circles, chasing that friction as tears threatened to spill, trying to catch your breath while Dean's teasing motions tightened the knot in your belly.

“You’re gonna cum all over my gun, huh?” he murmured, absentmindedly. You choked out a moan in reply, and he laughed. “Wow, you’re a fucked-up one, aren’t you?”

“You’re the one with a gun against my cunt,” you whined, and he snorted.

“You’re the one who asked for it,” he said softly, and you bit your lip, moaning as he pressed the cold steel against your entrance. “Damn… You’re so wet, I bet it’d slide right in.”

“Oh,” you moaned, your body reacting to his words, walls clenching around nothing as you got closer to your orgasm. “Dean…”

“Hmm, cum for me, beautiful, come on,” he whispered, his hand leaving your wrists to tangle in your hair while the other pressed the gun against your clit again. “You got this, come on.”

You moaned again, the cold, hard surface rubbing against your swollen clit, pushing you closer and closer to the edge. Tears were about to spill from your eyes as your walls clenched — softly at first, then harder and harder — until you let out a choked moan, your peak making your body shake in Dean’s grip.

“Dean,” you whined, practically begging, a sob slipping out as your whole body trembled. He let out a soft hum, whispering sweet nothings as he helped you ride out your orgasm: how you were so, so good, coming all over his hand like this.

He let go of your hair soon after, pulling back as you tried to catch your breath. You shifted on the bed, lying on your back, eyes all hazy as you looked at Dean, who was wiping your juices off his gun with your shirt. You let out a small, breathy moan at the sight, and he looked up at you, pupils dilated and face flushed, a clear bulge in his denim pants.

“Don’t you dare move,” he said softly, setting his gun on the bedside table before unbuckling his belt. You felt your swollen pussy clench when he smirked mischievously,  his eyes never leaving yours as he crawled onto the bed, positioning himself between your thighs. “I’m not done with you yet, sweetheart.”

Participate in the kinktober writing list with my FREE SPACE dynamic. There are some free spaces for specific pairings and you can shoot me asks with suggestions for kinks and plots featuring them. I will choose one for each character featured to write! Free spaces available: Sam Winchester (SPN), Jason Newsted (Metallica), Cap. John Price (COD), Kakashi Hatake (Naruto), Cronos (Venom) 

[nipuni]

Blog time Hello! We are back from our trip! I'd say I'm feeling refreshed but coming back to sweltering dry heat shut down that feeling very quickly. Now we are even more determined to move to the seaside within the year though 🏃‍♀️ It's incredible how much of an effect on your health the weather can have. These days we have been hiking for around 8 hours a day in the mountains and coast without breaking a sweat in 17-22ºc high humidity weather. In contrast, today back home we walked to the store five streets away in a dry 33ºc sun and we felt like throwing up and never leaving the house again lmao and it only gets much worse until september aaaa I can't wait to move out of the city and start a new colder and quieter phase of life where I don't have to dread the coming of summer every year!! But at the same time I've been feeling this trepidation about settling down somewhere permanently, I realized that every 5 years or so I get the itch to move somewhere new and it worries me a bit tbh, I hope it is just my fear of commitment acting up and the fact that we just haven't found the right place yet. And the longer we spend in this place the more we feel like it will be the right one so I'm hopeful!

We have also been watching more of David's filmography! we watched Des, Single Father, Recovery, Bad Samaritan and Deadwater Fell. We enjoyed Recovery, Single father and Deadwater Fell the most, all were really good!! then Des was decent and Bad Samaritan was terrible. But as expected David steals the show every time and you end up sitting through the most ridiculous scripts just to see him give it his all and elevate the whole thing with every scene lmao the sheer range of this man!! let me gush for a second, he goes from the most charming and pitiful train wreck you would kill to protect to the most terrifying monster of a person so effortlessly you can hardly tell it's the same actor. He is so outstandingly good at every role!! Anyway I love watching our little shows of our favourite guy with Nicolas everyday, it has been the highlight of my year 🥰

I've also been meaning to get back into games but I just can't find the right one! I tried the whole cozy farming/survival/sandbox game thing and came to the conclusion that it's not for me, I don't find them engaging enough so it ends up feeling like a time sink 😞 I also thought of going back to FFXIV but the new expansion doesn't sound like something I would really enjoy and while I love RPG I'm finding it hard to commit to 40+ hours of storyline lately, BG3, Cyberpunk 2077 and Disco Elysium have been sitting in my library for ages now and I can't bring myself to play them even tho I want to!! I'm hoping DA4 will get me back into the RPG mood. I've also played Hades II but I'm all out of content until release! Maybe shooters will do the trick, something fast paced I can play for a little bit as a distraction from work. I've been meaning to check how Warframe is doing too, I love it and haven't played in ages, and every time I check it's like a completely different game so that could be fun! but I'm rambling now, if you have any game recommendations let me know! I hope you are all doing well 😊 I'll get back to drawing now and will share some sea pictures later!

[in-case-of-grace]

TTRPG Devlog: Qet and Inaccessible Names

I've been boiling a thought in the back of my mind lately, in regards to Naming Things in Fiction.

Newer folk may not know this, but my longest running creative endeavour has been Qet; a dark fantasy eldritch horror setting with inspiration from various Mesoamerican cultures and histories. It's a worldbuilding project, narrative setting, and TTRPG-- relegated to the backburner for over a year now. I needed a break.

Herein lies my problem: Qet's "common" equivalent language is a conlang inspired by Nahuatl.

English-first speakers, particularly fellow Americans, struggle a LOT with Nahuatl and anything similar to it. I'm American so my audience would...include a lot of Americans. Naturally a lot of the friends I'd want to run the game for are also American.

People struggle to read a lot of the proper nouns in Qet. An early first draft campaign took place in the deep caverns of Tchaoxlik, and the players were given Zykeutuezyl-- little light-emitting lizards-- as their primary source of light, to care for.

The bottomless lake Chluetichlon is significant in the lore, the Coulqepluex are a major ethnicity, and Qeplueoytz are shape-shifting monsters entire campaigns could center around. I've more examples, but you get the idea by now, I'm sure.

Part of Qet's inception was me noticing that US/UK fantasy overwhelmingly takes inspiration from European cultures, and That Sucks! There's so much more in the world, for one-- and this is fantasy! I want to see UNIQUE worlds that aren't just England But With Magic. Qet was my first worldbuilding project, and at the time I began, I had yet to develop the ability to just...make new stuff off the dome.

So I needed a solid inspiration from the real world as a starting point, and I chose something I thought was severely underrepresented: Mesoamerica. There is no 1:1 "this is the Maya but they're blue" or "here's the Olmec but they're birds" type stuff in Qet, rather, there's bits and bobs spread amongst original cultures and the world they live in. Corn is a staple food. The climate is hot and humid with a lot of shared flora from the real world Mesoamerican region-- but more differentiated fauna. One culture wears Aztec-inspired capes but live in Pueblo-inspired adobe homes. Polished obsidian mirrors play into eldritch magic. Some cultures sit and sleep on reed mats. One regional religion is a blend of the Aztec faith and Catholicism. Alongside these and many other bits of inspiration, the trade language of the world is Qetlec, which is inspired by Nahuatl.

I quite like a lot of the Qetlec names and words I've come up with over the years. I find several to be particularly satisfying to say! But I do have to admit that I, myself, had to train and practice to pronounce my own conlang. It may be second nature after years of working with it, but I often run into the dreaded "sbah...sbshs...uh...however you say it" or blatant word-butchering from new readers. It's an accessibility problem, after a certain point.

When I think of naming in fictional settings I return time and time again to what I believe to be a shining example of strong, accessible naming: Destiny.

Everything players need to know has a simple name that's typically just straight up English, no matter how alien. The Eliksni? Well that's a difficult name for some, so to players they're just...called "The Fallen." Other alien groups are simply titled: The Cabal, The Vex (who are actually made of radiolarian fluid-- another difficult name), and The Hive.

When they do concoct unique names for things, they do so in a way that should be easy to pronounce for their primarily English speaking audience. Fikrul. Mithrax. Oryx. Savathun is probably the most difficult one and that still seems fairly easy for players to pick up on.

Sometimes Destiny takes proper nouns from existing languages on Earth, but does so in the same manner-- sticking either to words English spakers already know or could feasibly pronounce with ease. Rasputin. Osiris. Ahamkara.

Destiny's player-facing setting is one that is crafted to be accessible. They're careful with their names. It's in the weird background lore that things may get complicated from time to time-- where it's not essential for players to be able to pronounce everything.

Qetlec isn't the only conlang in Qet, there are several others, but I'm less worried about them. It's reasonable to expect that English readers can pronounce Lhehd names like Hanviehl, Ahndel Veha, and Linnh; Tolech names like Mochog, Romtol, and Kupuch; or Auroullott names like Beuttep, Tteunor, and Auroboll.

Eldritch names are fine to be a bit difficult, I think, but I ride the line with those too-- Ul'jvot, Gaegoed, Kub-glorrha. Yaesheuhnahl is right at the edge but, it is a god made of 3 separate entities (Yaesh, Euhn, and Ahl) so I think it's not totally unreasonable.

It's Qetlec in specific that I think causes problems, which is a really big shame because I think it adds a lot to the world's flavor. But it includes a lot of sounds that aren't readily apparent, with things like "x" actually being pronounced "sh" or tight consonant/vowel pairings unfamiliar to the English reader like "ytz" "zyk" and "qeu." Hell, even beyond pairings-- the letters q, y, and z aren't super common in English! (Y is common at the *ends* of words but not at the start.)

I've tried some halfway measures here and there. I include pronunciation tooltips on every word I think folk may have difficulty with-- but that's only really doable on a webpage. In recent years, anything I added that I thought might be difficult to pronounce included an English alternative name. Gaiwej: Whispering Mouth. Asdeom: Adaptive Flesh. Zeloutihue: Lunatic of Lliaq. P'qur: The Labyrinth of Gods.

You get the idea.

I think it did work in making things more accessible, but it did bother me a little that this made the titles of each article much, much longer. It did make for names that were easier to remember, and, crucially-- look up. It was a bit of a have-your-cake-and-eat-it-too solution.

However, while this might work for a setting presented in a wiki format-- it doesn't work for a book or TTRPG. If you find yourself in a canyon and spot something in the distance you wish to warn your comrades of-- are you really going to shout "everyone look out for the Asdeom: Adaptive Flesh?" No. You're going to pick one or the other-- "Asdeom" or "Adaptive Flesh."

If your comrades have internalized only one of the two names, especially the one opposite what you called out-- they might be confused. We solved one problem only to create a new one! The easier solution is to simply have one, memorable-- and pronounceable-- name.

And that's where I'm stuck, I suppose. I'm attached to the many unpronouncible names of Qet and I know I must do away with them. I need to make new rules that limit how many syllables they may have, and cut out sounds that are difficult for English speakers.

Part of me thinks I need to start entirely from scratch on Qetlec instead of just reworking what's there. That I'm going to be too blinded by familiarity to spot all the problem areas, or too attached to change key nouns. Is "Zeloutihue" totally fine and pronounceable for the average English speaker? I can't tell! I'm lost in the sauce here!

If words like zykeutuezyl and olxlikliz are totally easy for me by now, how can I judge everything else fairly?

This is all to say, hey, think about this from the start. Don't make my mistakes and end up in this pit with me-- if you want your project to be accessible to your intended audience, consider the language(s) they might speak. What sounds are they familiar with? Could they feasibly pronounce all the important terminology in your work?

I'd love to hear folks' thoughts on this, what do you think? What would you do in my situation? What good or bad examples of accessible conlang have you come across? How have your own projects approached conlangs and names?

[dreamdragonkadia]

Daughter of Hades!Reader

To say this was bullshit would be the understatement of the century. Who the hell gets sick the day before camp? It had to be some kind of cosmic joke, right? Maybe it was your "mortal curse" for being the daughter of Hades, because breaking the Big Three Oath just wasn’t enough trouble.

“You’re so dramatic,” your mom mutters, giving you a side-eye as she checked the thermometer for what feels like the millionth time. Your mind felt fuzzy, like it was wrapped in fog, and it’s a struggle just to focus on her outline. You’re pretty sure there was some vomiting involved last night, but the memory’s hazy at best.

“101.2,” she announces, her voice final. “You’re not going to camp.”

It takes longer than a second for the words to sink in as the fever burns under your skin, but a wave of cold washed over you, leaving you shivering. You feel the bone-deep exhaustion settle in, like someone’s draped a heavy shroud over your body. Gods, if sleep claimed your mind right now, you’re not sure you’d even protest.

“Mom,” you manage to croak out, your voice barely a whisper. “I have to go. I haven’t seen Percy since—” You trail off, realizing you don’t even know how long it’s been. This was the downside to long-distance relationships, even with shadow travel practically at your fingertips. It must have been winter break, when the winter solstice rolled around, and classes went on pause. Everything since then has been a blur of school, monsters, and the daily grind of pretending you’re a normal person.

Her expression softens, and for a split second, you think you’ve gotten through to her. But then she shook her head, resolute as ever. “You need to rest. You’re not going anywhere until you’re better.”

You bite back a frustrated groan, slumping further into the mattress. It felt like you were being held captive by the Fates themselves. You can almost picture Percy’s disappointed face when he realizes you won’t be there. Some part of you wants to believe he’d shrug it off, try to play it cool—but you know him better than that. The poor guy would probably freak out, imagining the worst. He’d think something happened, that you were attacked by a monster or ambushed by a rogue demigod.

But then again, Percy’s smarter than he lets on. You’d mentioned on your late-night Iris messages that you hadn’t been feeling your best lately, and last night you told him you were going to bed early because of it. Maybe he’d put two and two together. Or at the very least, he’d mention it to Annabeth, who’d immediately make the connection and reassure him before he went full Poseidon-mode and tried to charge into the Underworld to find you.

“This isn’t fair,” you mutter, voice hoarse. “I fought monsters with worse than this.”

“Exactly,” your mom says, “You’ve pushed yourself too hard already. You need to take a break.”

“But Camp Half-Blood is my break!” you protest weakly, even as your eyelids start to droop. It’s kind of a lie. Sure, you loved seeing your friends, training with your half-brother, and joining in on the chaotic games. The strawberry fields, the walks on the beach, the bonfires—they all felt like home. But the real break, the thing you looked forward to most, was seeing Percy. Two whole months of getting to see him every day, sneaking into each other’s cabins at night for stolen moments together. It’s why you stopped visiting the Underworld as often during the summer.

She sits down on the edge of your bed, brushing a hand through your sweat-damp hair. “I know,” she says softly, almost like she was sorry. “But you have to take care of yourself too, honey.”

The familiar comfort of her hand against your head made it harder to stay mad. You close your eyes, exhaustion finally tugging at you, pulling you down like the Underworld’s currents. Maybe she’s right. Maybe you really do need a break. Your father would lecture you for shadow traveling while sick. So would Percy, Nico, and probably even Mrs. Jackson once she found out.

It didn't make it any easier to swallow, though. You’d been looking forward to this for months. You missed your friends, your cabin, but most of all—you missed your boyfriend.

The room fades into a dim blur as sleep pulls you down. You drift in and out of consciousness, fever-dreams flickering through your mind: flashes of Camp Half-Blood’s sparkling lake, the laughter of the Apollo cabin, the comforting feeling of the celestial bronze weapon at your side. And then, always, Percy. His lopsided grin, the way he looks at you like you’re the most precious thing in the world. It’s the first real summer you’ve planned to spend together without interruptions—no quests, no urgent prophecies, just you, him, and the warmth of the campfire.

The next time you open your eyes, it’s to a stuffy nose, making it impossible to catch a full breath. You let out a weak, congested groan, your head throbbing as you stare into the semi-dark room and you can just barely make out the murmur of voices in the hallway—your mom’s concerned whisper and someone else’s low, muffled response.

You think for a moment about trying to listen in, but your body feels heavy, like you’re sinking deeper into the mattress. Exhaustion pulls at you again, tugging you back under, and you let your eyes flutter shut, ready to fall back into restless sleep.

But just before you drift off, you could swear you hear the voice that’s been haunting your dreams.

“Is she okay?” it whispers, filled with worry. It sounds like Percy. Or maybe that’s just your fever messing with you, giving you a glimpse of what you wish could be real. You want to call out to him, but sleep was already wrapping its tendrils around you again, dragging you under before you can even try.

When you next wake, it’s slow, like dragging yourself through syrup. Your body feels like lead, heavy and achy, and the pounding in your head hasn’t let up. The room was dim, the sunlight filtering in through the curtains. It’s quiet—eerily so.

For a moment, you wonder if you dreamt it all: the fever, your mom’s worry, the strange sense of someone else’s presence. Maybe you’re still caught in the grip of some fever-dream, your mind playing tricks on you. But then you hear it—a voice, gentle and oh-so-familiar.

“Hey,” it says softly. “You’re awake.”

You turn your head, blinking to clear the blurriness from your eyes, and there he is, sitting by your bedside. Percy. His hair is messy, like he’s been running his hands through it, and his sea-green eyes are filled with relief and something deeper—something like worry.

“Perce?” Your voice comes out hoarse, barely more than a croak. You swallow thickly, trying to sit up, but he’s already there, a hand on your shoulder, guiding you back down.

“Easy,” he murmurs. “Don’t push yourself.”

“What… what are you doing here?” You can’t quite believe it, staring at him like he might vanish if you blink too hard. He’s supposed to be at camp, leading capture the flag, lounging by the lake—not sitting here, looking at you like you’re the most fragile thing in the world.

“You really think I’d stay at camp when I heard you were sick?” He tries for a smile, but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “Nico found out first. He came by to check on you and told me you probably wouldn’t be coming. And—well, I kind of freaked out a little.”

You can’t help it; a laugh bubbles up in your chest, raspy, but real. “You? Freak out? No way.”

His smile softens, and he takes your hand, his thumb brushing over your knuckles. “You scared me, you know,” he admits quietly. “I didn’t want to leave you alone like this.”

“Percy,” you sigh, feeling the guilt and warmth mix together in a messy knot inside you. “You didn’t have to come. I’m fine, really. It’s just a fever.”

He gives you a look, the kind that says he knows you’re lying. “You’re burning up, and you look like you’ve been run over by a chariot. Don’t try to downplay it.”

You huff, but it’s more out of fondness than annoyance. “You’re stubborn.”

“And you’re impossible,” he counters, but there’s a smile tugging at his lips now. He squeezes your hand gently, his expression turning serious. “I’d rather be here with you, anyway. We have the whole summer, remember? I’d rather spend it taking care of you than worrying about you from a hundred miles away.”

You open your mouth to protest, but the words die on your tongue. The look in his eyes, the way he’s holding your hand like he’s afraid to let go—it melts away any argument you might have had.

“Okay,” you whisper, your voice small. “I’m glad you’re here.”

“Me too,” he says, and for the first time since you woke up, you feel a little bit lighter. Maybe it’s the fever breaking, or maybe it’s just the way he’s looking at you, like he’s already made up his mind to stay by your side no matter what.

You squeeze his hand back, feeling the exhaustion pull at you again, but this time, it’s different. It’s softer, gentler, like the pull of a tide, and you let it take you, comforted by the warmth of his hand in yours and the soft sound of his voice as he hums a tune you can’t quite place.

When you fall back asleep, you do so knowing he’ll be there when you wake.

[chongoblog]

Weird question, I know, but do you have any recommendations for getting into roguelikes? Or at least roguelites?

Great question! As far as the genre of roguelike/lite goes, there’s a pretty wide berth. I think it depends on what kind of experience you’re looking for.

I was gonna give a breakdown of lite vs like, but honestly I’m just gonna go down the list

Hades/Hades 2: Very good if you want to experience a story, tight gameplay, and be pretty sure that you’ll make your way to the end eventually without ragequitting. A lot of its charm comes in it being easier and focusing more on progressing story than Just Being A Wall like some of the other games on this list. Probably the best entry point to roguelikes in this whole list.

Spelunky/Spelunky 2: Remember when I mentioned a wall to throw yourself at? I haven’t played nearly as much Spelunky 2, but I can tell you that I have SOOOOO much time in the first Spelunky (hell I had a lot of time in it back when it was freeware. Now THAT was an exciting time). It’s very very difficult and unforgiving. But it’s a blast once you figure out the tricks.

Slay the Spire: THE deckbuilder roguelike. A ton of roguelikes nowadays have deckbuilder elements and I feel like a lot of it comes from this game. Can’t recommend it enough. If you’re looking for other deckbuilder roguelikes, you can try Monster Train or Balatro (warning this one is crack if you like Number Go Up)

FTL Faster Than Light: You know Star Trek? Imagine if you were a ship captain and you were in control of all the ship functions and crew members. And also everything wanted you dead. And uh oh half your crew is dead. Oh god the O2 chamber is on fire. Another one of those “Throw Yourself At A Wall” type games. I honestly don’t think I’ve ever completed a run myself, but it’s a wonderful experience every time I pick it up

Skul: Definitely one of my favorites in recent memory. A fun action platformer where you get to be a lil skeleton dude, what more could you ask for? Very similar to Dead Cells, which I’ve also played, but I think I like Skul a good bit better (DC is very good though!!!)

Dicey Dungeons: Made by the same guy who did VVVVVV, Dicey Dungeons is a very fun take on the genre, basing it around dice, and allowing for a lot of creative playstyles around the mechanic.

Binding of Isaac: I feel like this one needs no introduction, but in case it does, BoI takes most of its inspiration from the original Legend of Zelda. I have a few issues with it myself which is why I don’t play it nearly as much as I used to (mostly due to it having soooooooo much stuff that trying to remember everything is a hassle, kinda like my issue with TF2 unfortunately) but it’s beloved for a reason so it might just end up being up your alley

Other games I know about but haven’t played much of, so I can’t say much are Streets of Rogue, Risk of Rain 2, Rogue Legacy (I did play a lot back in the day but never got far), Noita, Into the Breach, Darkest Dungeon, and Crypt of the Necrodancer

If anyone else has any recommendations or if you second any of these recs, feel free to put em in the replies

[safarigirlsp]

The Museum Beast

Historian Nicholas Mills x OC

Word Count: 13.8k

Warnings: NSFW. Smut. Horror. Lots of Violence. Gore. Chasing. Monster Action. This is heavily inspired by one of my favorite novels, Relic. If you like any of this, I highly encourage you to read it!

I’m willing to continue this and write more if people like it!

Note: Going forward, I'm going to write characters from now on instead of Readers just because it's really annoying trying to switch back and forth for the non-fic writing I do. However, the female characters will be totally physically vague aside from having a name, so they can still easily be read as an insert by anyone who chooses to insert themselves.

Based on two requests I combined then butchered from @iamburdened and @queeniebee

AO3 Link

Two of the world’s tallest free-standing dinosaurs were frozen mid-battle in the Theodore Roosevelt Rotunda on the second floor of the New York Museum of Natural History. In dramatic repose, a Barosaurus reared to protect its young from an attacking Allosaurus. The skeletal titans made the browsing museum patrons look like ants milling at their feet. Alice was never unable to walk past the dinosaurs without craning her neck upward to admire their towering presence. The great saurians were much more interesting to focus on than the throng of chattering primates that inhabited the museum during business hours. Walking through the past with her heels echoing on tile hallways that stretched the length of city blocks, she allowed herself to be distracted by the jungle of extinct species giving life to their dioramas. From the tiny, feathered dinosaur skeleton displayed in a dramatically lit shadow box to the gigantic open jaws of a megalodon framing the entrance to an adjoining hallway, there was always something interesting that caught her eye.

If she walked briskly it was a decent cardio session to make her way to the North American section of the museum. A special exhibit had just opened, an exhibition on the American Old West. It had all the good stuff. Cowboys, gunslingers, train robbers, mountain men, and miners. The exhibit was livelier curated than most, or maybe the subject simply lent itself to action and movement. Standing guard on either side of the entrance were the wax likenesses of Buffalo Bill, wearing his original buckskin outfit, bedazzled with fringe and conchos, and Sitting Bull, dressed in a magnificent headdress boasting a rainbow of colors in its plumage. In one corner was a round table of wax men dressed in full regalia, engaged in a heated poker game. A man with luxurious curly hair sat with his back facing the audience, displaying his hand of aces and eights, the famous Dead Man’s Hand, held by ‘Wild’ Bill Hickock when he was gunned down. The mural painted in the corner Hickock faced even showed the characteristic swinging doors of a saloon, being pushed open by a man with a gun in his hand and murder in his eyes. In another corner ‘Hanging’ Judge Parker sat at his desk, writing in his ledger, backlit by a mural of a man swinging from the gallows outside his office window.

Alice was delighted to see some of the famous men of the old west depicted in less obvious settings than gunfights. These exploits were detailed in paintings that supplemented the exhibits and dozens of informative plaques, but many characters were shown in niche exposes that spoke to the true enthusiasts among the visitors.

The most famous lawman of all, Wyatt Earp, was depicted indulging in his guilty pleasure of gambling with his notoriously beautiful actress wife playing right alongside him as she smoked a cigar. Instead of being shown in his best-known role as Wyatt Earp’s right hand in the infamous Tombstone events, Doc Holliday was portrayed as a suave gentleman, dressed in a fancy brocade vest and cravat, focused on the smiling attentions of his consort, Big-Nosed Kate. The deadliest outlaw of all and likely psychopath John Wesley Hardin was shown lounging on a dirty bunk inside a jail cell. He was intently focused on a large law book. After serving his time, he turned from gunfighting to the practice of law. The plaque detailing his exploits explained tongue-in-cheek that he had traded the illegal form of lawlessness for the legal alternative.

Ample attention was also given to women of note. From saloon owners to cut-throat madams, women’s stories were interspersed with the male narrative. There was of course a display devoted to Calamity Jane, dressed as a man and just as dangerous. Prominently featured was the lesser known but equally successful outlaw Belle Starr, shown wearing a pretty red dress while brandishing a six-gun astride her huge, coal-black horse, Venus. The most famous woman of all, and arguably one of the most iconic figures of the Old West, Annie Oakley, was given a full diorama of her own. A wax figure depicted the pint-sized sharpshooter holding a rifle as she aimed for the cigarette held between her husband’s lips.

An armory worth of firearms from the period were on display. From iconic Colt .45 revolvers and Winchester 30-30 lever action rifles to unique pieces like tiny six-barreled pepper-box derringers and huge Sharps rifles, there were enough firearms to lay siege to a small country. It was befitting for the period, when a man’s gun and his horse were the best friends he could ever have. Without either, a man’s lifespan would likely be reduced to weeks or even days.

The exhibition hall was spacious, even with a veritable herd of visitors milling through it like buffalo on the plains. School children raced through the halls and between dioramas as unchecked as packs of coyotes, while their teachers and handlers tried in vain to wrangle them under control. It was afternoon and most groups were on their final turn around the exhibits before leaving. A few pairs of surly teenagers lingered on the sidelines, looking like they were trying to find a place to whip out a cigarette to enhance their cool, and probably having escaped their own class trip from some other section of the vast museum. Despite the chaos the minors instigated, snippets of intelligent conversation also fluttered around the room.

In an attempt to avoid the class field trips, Alice moved to an adjacent room inside the sprawling exhibit. This spacious room was devoted to art of and from the period, Native American weavings and pottery, animated bronze sculptures, and vibrant oil paintings. The more sedate nature of the art exhibits appealed to a more sedate crowd, unable to hold the interest of children and teenagers. The only other people in the art room were an elderly couple, a group of three college-age people who looked like modern beatniks, and one impressively built man standing off to one side, studying the plaque of a detailed mural-size painting.

Alice couldn’t help but appraise the man discreetly as he stood quartering away from her. He was tall and broad, his robust physique apparent through his flannel shirt and jeans. Even from her angle, she could tell his features were strong and masculine. Dark hair curled around his collar and his strong stubble-covered jaw flexed as he read, his bright eyes darting quickly over the text. She wondered briefly about approaching him – men that attractive were rare to find out in the wild – but it struck her as ridiculous to approach the man like she was in a bar and ask him if he came here often. Rolling her eyes inwardly at herself, she turned her attention toward the opposite wall and a painting of a painfully skinny man riding an equally emaciated white horse on a moonlight night.

It was rewarding when out of the corner of her eye she saw the man turn and pause just to look at her. The man glanced toward the doorway leading back into the main exhibit then back at her, seeming to decide whether or not he too wanted to risk making an ass of himself with a clumsy come-on in an art exhibit. Alice fought to hide her smile when he made his decision in her favor.

The handsome man sidled up to her, his approach practiced and laissez-faire. His shoulders were squared and his stride confident, but he angled across the exhibit hall from the side, his eyes fixed on the oil paintings instead of his prize, like a lion casually strolling by a gazelle to gauge distance before an attack. There was an impulse to turn to him with an accusatorily arched eyebrow to show she was onto him. But he was attractive enough to give him the benefit of the doubt. Being pursued added a certain spice to the air, after all. With his large hands in his pockets and his posture confident but relaxed, he dripped with top notes of James Dean and undertones of Clint Eastwood.

“Frederick Remington,” the man read the artist’s name when he stopped beside her. He was a full head taller and his voice was deep and a little gravely, barely tinged with a Western drawl. “I think my dad has one of his 30.06 rifles.”

Alice hoped he was teasing, that there were a few active brain cells sparking inside that pretty head. The hint of a smirk twisting the man’s lips confirmed it. Keeping her face deadpan, she played along. “Yeah? These artists must have been starving during their lifetimes, being forced to branch out like that. I hear the guy behind Winchester Arms was really into weird avant garde architecture, too.”

The man grinned and turned to face her, fixing her with a pair of bright eyes the color of whiskey. “I think that was his wife. Leave it to a woman to spend a man’s hard-earned gun money on a house in the California hills, complete with staircases leading to ceilings and dead ends. Think she had a Remington on the walls?”

“I don’t know if Sarah Winchester was a fan of Frederick Remington, but I bet there were a few works by Eliphalet Remington somewhere inside,” Alice teased.

“I’m impressed,” the man laughed. “I couldn’t have pulled that name out of thin air.”

“I bet now you’re wondering if I’m a gun nut or just a history buff. A woman should keep an air of mystery about her.” She smiled and looked at him squarely. She decided he looked at home in the Old West exhibit, exuding a ruggedly masculine quality that was all too rare in modern society. He had a face that belonged on the streets of Dodge City, those crisp hooded eyes staring down the barrel of a Colt .45. She realized she had been staring into those eyes for a rudely long moment, and continued talking to smooth over that faux pas, “I never cared much for Remington’s paintings. They’re drab and all the subjects are in painfully sorry condition – horses and men alike.” She pointed to an incredible scene of two cowboys roping a grizzly bear, their movements frozen on canvas mid-stride, mid-lasso, and mid-snarl, painted with confident strokes in a vibrant palette. “Charlie Russell is my favorite. You can’t beat the color and the action in his paintings.”

“I wonder if that’s worse than having a tiger by the tail,” he pondered, pointing at the lassoed grizzly, snarling and swiping at the horse and rider. “What would your boyfriend say?”

“That position is currently vacant. What a brash way to inquire.” She smiled and nodded back at the snarling grizzly. “I’m sure three out of four ex-boyfriends would say they’d take their chances with the bear.”

“It’d take more than a bear or a tiger to scare me away from such a pretty face,” he teased, using those impressive eyes as tactically as a gun. “I never did have much instinct for self-preservation. Plenty of brash though, and other things synonymous.”

She laughed genuinely. “You’ve covered art, guns, tigers, and balls in three minutes flat. That’s quite an icebreaker without even introducing yourself. What else should I know?”

“Nicholas Mills.” He grinned handsomely and extended his hand, it was callused and powerful and large, easily swallowing hers in his warm grip. “I’m here consulting on this exhibition, on loan from the Old West Museum in Cheyanne.”

“Alice,” she returned, giving his hand a firm shake. “You’re a historian?” Her tone was skeptical as she pointedly eyed his flannel shirt and jeans. “Is tweed out of vogue for you types these days?”

“In the west it’s all denim and cotton.” He popped the collar of his shirt. “Linen if you want to be pretentious. Dust sticks to tweed like hell, not to mention burs.”

“What about your ten-gallon hat and dinnerplate-sized belt buckle?” The question gave her a convenient excuse to gauge the way he filled out his jeans. He wasn’t a man who skipped leg day.

“Those are only fashion accessories in Texas. Maybe Santa Fe. Where I’m from, if you’re wearing a cowboy hat, it better have a sweat ring around the headband, and if you’re wearing a belt buckle, it better be tarnished. Those are work accessories for working ranch hands, not fashion statements.” He let his eyes travel the curves of her figure under the guise of admiring her outfit of jeans and a blazer. “I suppose those duds work equally well for business or pleasure in most fields.” He smirked, but moved on before she could wonder at the double entendre. “Do I get a last name or just Alice?”

Smiling coyly, Alice replied, “I’ll give you a hint and see how well you know your stuff. It’s the name of one of my favorite songs and of a color that looks terrible on me, and I share it with a gunfighter who I’m sad to see isn’t featured in your exhibit. He had one of the best names in the business. That’s three hints, actually. So, are you posing as a historian to hit on unsuspecting women, or the real deal?”

“I’m not up on music and I can’t imagine there’s a color that could make you look terrible,” Nick frowned and pursed his lips. “I know of a couple of noteworthy Browns and even a Dunn, but their names don’t have any special ring to them. If I was a betting man, I’d put my dollar on ‘Texas’ Jack Vermillion. Alice Vermillion?”

“If you were betting, you’d have hit the jackpot,” Alice said with a genuine smile. “A man who knows Texas Jack and Charlie Russell. I’m not yet impressed, but I am intrigued.”

“If this goes the direction I’m hoping, I may yet hit that jackpot and you’ll be very impressed.” He didn’t give her the chance to address that sentiment before changing the subject. He cocked his head toward another painting depicting a man and woman seated side by side beneath an upside down canoe propped above them, taking shelter from a torrent of rain in a thick forest. Despite the weather, the couple was engaged in smiling conversation. “I’m a Goodwin man, myself. But I’m biased. Every time I look at his paintings of cowboys packing up in Alaska or canoeing in the Great North, adventurous couples fishing and hunting together, I get nostalgia for a place I’ve never been.” He smiled to himself. “Someday.”

“Isn’t New York about as far away as a man can get from canoeing up in the Great North and fighting grizzlies over your catch of the day?” she teased. “Not much chance of facing down a maneater on the mean streets of NYC. Although, I hear these days you’re more likely to get bitten by a New Yorker than a shark.”

“You must not know about the Museum Beast.” He flashed a grin that was lopsided and full of mischief.

Alice cocked a skeptical eyebrow. “It’s a little early in the day for ghost stories. Shouldn’t you invite me someplace nicer before you start trying to rattle the delicate woman into wanting to cling to your big, strong arm?”

“I’m appalled you think I’m that easy, miss.” He flexed one of those big, strong arms in question in the sluttiest possible way. “It’s no campfire ghost story. The folks who work here believe it. They say there’s a huge beast living in the basement, roaming the halls at night.” Holding up his hands, he hummed the Twilight Zone theme. “They say it preys on researchers who embezzle grant money and curators who hit on their secretaries.”

Alice laughed, maybe snorted a little, decidedly unladylike. “So, you’re saying I’m safe then?”

“I’ll keep you safe,” he teased with faux gravity. “Just stick close to me.”

“That sounds like a pretty firm offer to help with some research to me.” She put her hands on her hips in a playful challenge.

“Would it be smart of you to trust the research skills of a man who’s not wearing a tweed jacket?” He grinned. “What kind of research? Are you a student?”

“God no!” she laughed. “I haven’t been a student in over a decade. I’m something much worse.”

Nick raised his eyebrows, inquiring.

“I’m a defense lawyer, trying desperately to find an angle to show my very guilty client has a mitigating defense.” She mirrored his expression, raising her eyebrows. “You want the facts? They’re not for the squeamish. You don’t have a full stomach, do you?”

“A pretty face with a shady job and an iron stomach to boot?” he laughed again. “You have my attention.”

“Have you ever gotten carried away and gone down some weird rabbit holes?” she asked with a self-deprecating grin.

‘Sure.” He nodded. “I’m not surprised you’re one to go chasing rabbits, Alice.”

“My client is a murder, a serial killer. A cannibal, to be precise.” She watched him for any of the silent tells she was used to seeing when a listener wanted her to stop, or to chew their arm off and escape her work stories. Seeing none, she continued. “He grew up in Centralia, Pennsylvania before the town was evacuated, then worked in mines all of his adult life. He tells me this affected him. Sadly, conventional psych evals don’t back up his claim. So, before I lay out the big bucks on an expert to say whatever I want, I wanted to do some research on the effects of heavy metal poisoning on miners and a correlation with cannibalism. I figured looking at the Old West miners before there were regulations might be a good place to start.”

“Cannibalism, huh? Romantic topic. Did you see the Donner Party exhibit?” He smirked and jerked his thumb in the direction of a diorama of several wax figures huddled around a dying campfire, clutching furs around them to fight the bitter blizzarding cold while suggestively roasting skewers of meat.

“It’s very nice.” She looked back at the macabre display. “But not what I’m looking for. They had a different defense to cannibalism. Duress, definitely. If I were representing one of them, I’d also argue self-defense, in an eat or be eaten sense. I’d win.”

Nick grinned then pursed his lips, nodding as he considered her problem. “You won’t find anything useful up here but if you want to go deeper down this rabbit hole, you’d want to have a look in the museum’s archives. This museum has the largest collection of natural history artifacts in the world. That’s one reason I’m here, frankly, is a chance to explore their collection of Old West relics. It’s better than being a kid in a candy store. It’s almost as good as an occultist getting a backstage pass to the Vatican Archives.” He fixed his intense eyes on hers. “I bet we could find some good stuff in there.”

“Are you offering to sneak me into the museum’s archives with you?” She added a seductive edge to her voice and added, “You’re going to lift up the museum’s skirt for me and show me her goods?”

“I’ll have you know skirt-lifting is a great talent of mine.” He waggled his eyebrows playfully. “Yeah, I’m offering, so long as you let me take you out afterwards. We can discuss our findings over dinner.”

“You won’t get in trouble?” she asked sincerely.

“They can’t fire me.” He shrugged. “The worst they could do is chew me out and deport me back to Cheyanne. What do you say? Dinner in exchange for a private curated tour and me risking getting a big ole ass-chewing?”

“Deal.” Alice smiled, offering her hand again and they shook on it.

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

It was creeping toward five when Nick led Alice out of an employee service elevator on one of the lower levels of the museum. They had met an exodus of employees heading the opposite direction on their way home for the day.

“Is it too late for this adventure?” Alice asked as they walked down a hallway so long she could barely see the end of it. The lights were dim and there were no windows on this lower level. They passed dozens of closed doors and multiple other hallways branching off. She thought the minotaur could get lost in this place.

“I have my all hours, all access pass.” He tapped his jeans pocket where a laminated card was stowed. It served as both an ID card and a key to most of the locked doors in the museum and the employee-only areas.

“How do you not get lost in here?” Alice asked, looking around the endless halls. Especially with no natural light or signage, it seemed impossible.

“Nah, I get lost all the time. I consider it part of the adventure,” he laughed, then saw her askance look and added sheepishly, “Sorry, I forgot I was supposed to be your intrepid guide. I won’t let on if I get lost. Just consider it exploring.”

“That’s comforting,” she laughed too. Secretly, she thought it might not be the most terrible thing to be lost for a few hours or even the night in a place with so much to explore with a handsome man.

Alice was convinced they had covered the distance of several city blocks before they arrived at a pair of heavy oak doors with a plain brass plate announcing they had reached the B Archives.

“Does that mean there’s an entire alphabet of archive rooms and collections?” she asked as Nick held the door open for her.

“Probably.” He shrugged. “I’ve only poked around in Archives A, B, and C. Those collections date from the recent past until the eighteenth century or so.”

Inside the B Archives, Alice was reminded of an enormous library that had seen better days. Or the basement of an ultra-rich hoarder. Rows of metal shelves streaked away as far as she could see in the dim lighting, seven-feet high and with another foot or two of boxes piled on top. Between rows there was enough space for two people to walk abreast if they wanted to get a little cozy with one another. At various intervals in the rows there were alcoves fitted with small tables where one could examine their find without taking it up to the front. The light added to the aged feel, the bulbs candlelight-yellow, a few of which were weak and flickering. The front of the room had a kind of sitting area with chairs and a spattering of small tables. There was a small office inside too, a door with a smoked glass window open ajar.

A hunched old man with white hair and coke bottle glasses poked his head out from the office door, squinting at Nick for several seconds before addressing him. “You’ve been bothering me a lot lately.”

“This time I brought a pretty girl who wants to bother you,” Nick said, placing his hand on the small of Alice’s back as he led her toward the old man. “She’s curious what you have on mines in the old west. Particularly mines with gruesome histories. Murders, deaths, breakouts of illness or insanity. All that good stuff. Cannibalism in particular, if you have any of that on the menu.”

“Cannibalism? On a perfectly decent Friday afternoon?” The old man scoffed, but proceeded to ponder the matter, his bushy white eyebrows drawing together in thought. After a moment, he held up a triumphant finger. “You know, there is a rather curious box of effects that might interest you. It’s some remnants of an old Colorado sheriff’s things. He led quite an illustrious life, it seems. His heirs donated most of his effects to the museum. I took a quick peek through it years ago when it came in, but I haven’t thought of it since.” He pointed a bony finger down the row of aisles. “Aisle S, box 5425, if memory serves, and it always does.”

“How in the hell do you do that?” Nick asked, shaking his head.

“Photographic memory.” The man tapped his temple. “Which also means I’ll remember you precisely if you mess up my boxes.”

“I wouldn’t dare,” Nick assured him then led the way toward aisle S.

It took them some time to locate box 5425, partially because many of the labels were faded beyond readability. When they found it, Nick had to stand on his tiptoes and stretch his arms to their full reach to nudge it off its perch on top of another box on the top shelf. He nearly dropped the box when it came free, catching it with one hand and fumbling for balance for a harrowing second. Once he held it securely in his arms, he smiled cockily at Alice and headed toward the nearest alcove in their row.

The alcove was centered in the row and seated directly under a flickering yellow light. Nick set the box down on the small table, barely large enough for a coffee date. The lights were sparsely spaced, leaving shadowy stretches between pools of yellow light. There were still several towering rows of shelving between them and the entrance, but sound carried well in the sepulcher-like room. He was spreading the contents of the box out on the table when he heard then entrance door creak open and a voice bounced down the aisle toward them.

“I’m clocking out for the day.” The old man called. “Put that box back where you found it and don’t tell anyone I left you unattended in here, and we’ll still be friends tomorrow.”

“You got it,” Nick replied, projecting his deep voice so it boomed through the archives. Then he turned to Alice with a wolfish expression, “I hope you didn’t want a chaperone.”

“All a chaperone does is keep an honest man honest,” she replied, appreciating just how close they stood at the small table. “I think you’re a man who will break as many rules as I let you, chaperone or not.”

“Maybe so.” He grinned sideways and chewed his lip as he opened the box.

It may have been a mistake, she realized, allowing herself to be shut away privately and in such close confines with this man. Her profession was dominated by men, she was used to working closely with men and attractiveness or lack thereof never entered into it. Rarely, at least. It was a foreign feeling to be dominated by hormones the way she was now. Her senses felt assaulted, a gate failing before a battering ram. The way he looked and the rich gravel in his voice were bad enough, but now in the close space, Alice couldn’t ignore the masculine scent that subtly infiltrated her nose. She didn’t know if the scent of pine and leather mingled with musk was cologne or if it belonged to him. The small table necessitated him being close to her, their bodies almost touching. He didn’t crowd her, but still the size of him was tantalizingly imposing with the minimal space between them. She felt the heat from his body on her skin when he leaned over to study the papers spread across the table next to her. It made her think of being overpowered, manhandled, taken, even – the things that modern empowered women were supposed to have evolved beyond but that the base part of them craved when they sensed a man masculine enough to give it.

Nick pulled a letter from the box, the paper brittle and yellowed with age. Protocol dictated he should be wearing gloves to handle it, but he didn’t want to leave Alice alone long enough to fetch a pair. Despite his bravado, he had always found these dark and mostly abandoned places inside the museum creepy. He never let it get to him or get in the way of anything he needed to do, of course. But it was still an unsettling sort of environment, surrounded by the dead and their effects, in a place where voices echoed and shadows creeped. It was easy to imagine wakeful spirits watching him from the corner of his eye, just at the edges of the feeble light.

Not unlike being inside a deep, dark mine, he thought as he looked at the letter. He read aloud to Alice, thinking he might have actually struck gold, at least in terms of finding something to keep their afternoon interesting.

October 13, 1882

Darlin Belle,

I’m sure missin you tonight. I don’t know if you’ll ever read this but I hope it will find its way to you. I’m gonna write you like you was here with me and I was just talkin to you over dinner. It makes me miss you less. Every time I think about bein home, all that is to me is bein with you. The men in the posse kid me for bein whipped by you but I can’t find a damn to give over it. Miserable lonely bastards, the lot of em. But I guess they didn’t leave no one behind to miss em when they died. I hope you’ll miss me and remember the things that were good about me. There aren’t many, so it shouldn’t be hard.

“That sounds romantic,” Alice said with a wistful lilt. “I’m not sure it’s useful for my purposes, but I like it.”

Nick grinned and nodded. He read ahead to himself, but decided not to share it with the woman who was now looking at him with a pretty, hopeful smile. Best not to spoil the mood. He read the next few paragraphs to himself, feeling a prickly chill drag along the length of his spine like ghostly fingernails.

It’s been snowin up here in these mountains for days and it’s up over my knees now. Sure makes me miss the warmth of your touch. There’s nothin finer than holdin you in my arms, smellin your hair like flowers and cinnamon, feelin you soft n warm. I think you might be the only thing that can thaw me out ever again. Here I gone and got myself all hot and bothered just thinkin about you. But the snow’s been a blessin for me. It made the blood trail of the one I wounded easy to follow. I found him holed up under a ledge and finished him off with my knife so as not to fire off a shot. Sound carries in these mountains. The snow got thicker after dark. Thick enough to hide my tracks from the rest who are huntin me.

They haven’t found my hideout yet, but they will. I have to beat em to the punch.

I ain’t got much time cause they know the mountains better than me. It makes hidin hard and ambushin harder.

Sorry my writins goin from bad to worse fast. My fingers are numb as hell.

Curious, Alice leaned in to look at the letter and read it along with him. Spender folded it back together with a snap, too rough for the old paper and cleared his throat. He hastily put it back in the box – in the bottom of the box, under some other more innocuous looking items. “I don’t think the rest is worth reading today.”

Instead, he reached for a pocket watch with a gold hunting case, beautifully engraved with an elk hunting scene. Holding it delicately in his hands, he popped open the cover and read the engraving aloud, “To my handsome sheriff. You carry my love for you wherever you go. Belle.”

“That’s beautiful.” Turning toward him, Alice looked into his eyes as she spoke. Though his composure remained steady on the surface, she saw the way his chest expanded, his jaw clenched, his throat bobbed. It gave her a feeling of power knowing Nick was just as affected by their proximity as she was, maybe even more. She told herself she wouldn’t completely give into hormones. But she could give a little. How long had it been since she’d made out with a man like a horny teenager during a study session? Probably not since she had been a horny teenager. She could live a little now. Resting her ass against the tale, she leaned back against it and looked up at him, intentionally giving him the image of her laying sprawled beneath him. It would be a perfectly innocuous posture if the air wasn’t so charged between them, the attraction so tangible. The way he swallowed thickly told her that it wasn’t innocuous to him either.

The next move was his, Nick realized. Smirking to mask the way his pulse thundered, he stepped closer to her, using the excuse of setting the watch down on the table near her hip resting against the table’s edge. He left his hand there on the table, and when Alice kept looking up at him rather than anywhere else, Nick knew he had her tacit approval to act bolder. With his next step, he positioned himself in front of her. His right hand still rested near the pocket watch that held less interest to Alice than the man. He flattened his right hand on the table beside her then planted his left hand on her opposite side. There was still space between their bodies, if only inches, but he now caged her against the table and loomed over her.

“Find anything that interests you down here yet, darlin?’” he asked, letting the huskiness in his voice reflect his mounting arousal.

Alice heard something that sounded like a faint scratch from somewhere inside the archives. It was hardly enough to pull her attention away from the stupidly attractive man who was doing his best to make her forget all the dating rules and run every base right here in this dusty archive.

“I don’t have enough information to know if I’m interested in anything yet,” she teased. Angling her chin up, she presented her jaw and neck in a favorable angle for kissing.

“What do I need to clear up for you?” he played along as he lowered his head, trailing his nose over her cheek and his lips over her jaw, kissing lightly and teasing her with the scratch of his beard.

A box shifted on a shelf deeper in the archive, as though something had bumped it or rubbed against it. Alice heard that too, but she didn’t care. Not when Nick’s lips had moved to her neck and were giving her goosebumps, making her breath come short and her spine tingle. Encouraged by the way her body arched toward his and the way her hands had flown to his shoulders, Nick hooked his hands behind her thighs and hoisted her up onto the table. Pushing her legs apart, he stepped between them, bringing their bodies together then letting his hands caress her thighs and back as he continued kissing her neck. Every part of his body was hard beneath her roving hands, each plane and ridge of muscle a new excitement to discover. She could feel how hard he was inside his jeans too, but she would save exploring all of him for another time. She had talked herself into a nice makeout session with a handsome stranger, but she hadn’t yet abandoned all of her morals.

Bringing his hand to the back of her neck, he cradled her head while he exerted that subtle masculine control that could make a woman want to submit to him. Nick teased the side of her neck with his teeth, also teasing her restraint. He grinned against her skin when he pulled a soft moan from her throat, beginning to lose himself in the feel of her body against his, her soft skin under his callused hands.

When she moaned, Alice heard a strange response from somewhere in the dimly lit room. Something like a wet huffed breath, or a sloppy inhale. It sounded like a large dog snuffling. It was unmistakably not something she could attribute to the old room or hear ears playing tricks on her.

“Nick,” she whispered, not from arousal but trepidation. “Did you hear that?”

“’Course, darlin,’” he muttered dismissively as he nosed and kissed along her collarbone, his fingers digging into her thigh.

“What is it?” She was starting to pull back, making him tighten his hold on her.

“Don’t worry, it’s nothing,” he spoke against her skin, trying to placate her. He hadn’t heard anything, but if there was something, it was probably a fucking rat the size of a wiener dog. They had those fuckin’ things in New York. But he sure as hell wasn’t going to tell her that. Giant rats wouldn’t do a damn thing to keep her revved up for him. Forcing the thought from his own mind, he resumed kissing her, rubbing his words in with his lips. “It’s an old place. There’s bound to be some weird noises.”

“Listen!” she whisper-yelled, grabbing a fistful of his thick hair and yanking far too harshly to be mistaken for anything sexy.

He winced and frowned at her through one eye, the other was squeezed shut from the pain in his scalp. “You could just tell me to fuckin’ stop, you know?”

“Listen,” she said again, this time her whisper was barely audible. She heard another scrape and maybe another sniffing breath. But everything was quieter now, more subtle. As if whatever was making those faint noises was trying to be stealthier.

“That could be anything,” Nick said at full volume with a laugh on his voice. His voice seemed to boom throughout the archives, sparking off Alice’s inflamed nerve endings.

She clapped a hand over his mouth, hard enough to make him flinch. Her body was bolt upright, incidentally pressing her body flush to his, her every muscle taught. She knew her system had shot into a fight or flight response, but she didn’t know why. Her consciousness hadn’t registered anything that warranted such a reaction, a few odd sounds in an old museum was hardly noteworthy. But something about what she heard struck a chord in her core, deep in her subconscious where instinct reigned. Every sense she had sparked like live electric wires, screaming at her to run away as fast as she could, but she didn’t know what she was running from or even which direction to bolt. Her eyes were wide and terrified when they met Nick’s and she whispered, “Something’s in here with us. Listen. We have to get out.”

His eyes crinkled with amusement and he kissed her palm still held over his mouth. Taking her wrist, he plucked her hand away and kissed her there on her pulse point. He did it teasingly, but he lowered his voice to a hoarse whisper, “I spooked you good with that story about the Museum Beast.” He smirked and teased further, “I thought you were a big girl who could handle some campfire tales.”

“Can you not hear anything over the sound of your hard on?” she hissed, placing a restraining hand on his chest. “Listen, and try to think with the right head for a minute.”

Nick laughed, he always had a weakness for the feisty ones. He was about to tell her as much and steal another kiss when he heard it. A kind of snuffling, like someone with a runny nose, but also different and unmistakable. Growing up in Wyoming, he had spent plenty of time outdoors around wildlife, hunting, fishing, and hiking. He’d heard that sound once before when he’d come face to face with a grizzly around a bend in a trail. Given their poor eyesight, grizzlies tended to grunt and sniff their way along, their way of assessing their environment. He didn’t believe what his mind registered. There couldn’t be a fucking bear in a New York museum. But he also couldn’t rationally attribute the sound to some wheezy curator or a congested janitor, especially not when paired with a stealthy padded footfall.

“We need to run.” Alice fisted his lapel. Her voice had dropped below a whisper to an urgent breath.

“No, darlin,’ don’t run.” He grabbed her waist and pulled her off the table, returning her feet to the floor. Taking her arm, he pulled her behind him, placing himself closest toward the strange noises and whatever creature made them. He began to back slowly away down the aisle, pushing her behind him, trying to keep his steps silent. His mind raced frantically, but he forced his body to remain in control, repeating, “Don’t run.”

“Can we fight it?” she asked, touching his back from behind, trying to calm herself by keeping contact with him

“We may have to,” Nick gritted, unsure what to do since he had no idea what was creeping toward them from a few rows away. “Just don’t run. If there’s some kind of animal in here with us, the worst thing you can do is run.”

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

That little bitch, Warren thought petulantly as he walked down the dim hallway. The hallway that stretched on for the length of a city block. It was such bullshit. He hadn’t walked this much since he got kicked off his co-ed flag football team in junior high. Fuck her, he thought again as he kicked at a piece of crumpled paper on the tile floor, missed, and stumbled sideways. At least no one was around to see him. His uppity date was nowhere to be found. She had the gall to shove him away when he tried to fondle her boobs before running away from him. The ungrateful bitch. Warren had used his lunch hour to help her sneak out of high school, had paid her admission into the museum, and wasted his afternoon leading her around the exhibits and thrilling her with his acumen. She owed him a feel. He would just tell all her friends she sucked his dick in his car and have the last laugh.

Sullenly picking at the chipped black paint on his stubby fingers, he turned down yet another pointlessly long hallway. Despite being as blonde as a California It Girl and having a dumpy potatoesque physique, he thought that his crooked guyliner and black skinny jeans that revealed a tantalizing glimpse of a sweaty plumber’s crack gave him the hot goth look the girls liked. Not so much the girls in his peerage at college – they were stuck up bitches anyway, already hounding after the guys who were studying law at Harvard – but the girls who were just about to graduate from high school, just turned eighteen, maybe a little homely and desperate for a date to prom. Those were his preferred prey. He usually had some meager success with them, before their fathers found out about him and heartlessly separated them. It enhanced his view of himself as a tragic, long-suffering Shakespearean love interest who had turned to goth rock to bemoan his existence.

Since Warren had somehow managed to get turned around inside the maze of hallways until after it closed for the day, the museum was also devoid of employees. He thought it was only a matter of time before he ran into a security guard. He had a story lined up for why he was inside after hours, a grand tale that emphasized his victimhood. Maybe he could even end up with his name in the paper over it. That would really impress the girls.

Now, Warren lumbered along a random hallway, trying to find his way to an exit. He needed to find an elevator first. He had sneaked into some kind of service elevator with the girl and gone down several floors in his search for privacy. He thought he was in some kind of storage area or basement now, every room he passed was vacant save for troves of weird antiques. He had found the door to a stairwell a few turns back down the hallway, but he wasn’t about to walk up several flights of stairs. His day had been shit enough so far without climbing stairs.

After what seemed like an eternity, he came to a pair of double doors marked B Archives. He couldn’t remember the last time he had walked so far. He must have put in over two miles inside this stupid museum already. Like, a month’s worth of walking. Maybe there was a desk inside with a chair he could rest in even if he couldn’t find an employee to lead him out of this suckhole.

Success! Inside the B Archives were rows of forgotten looking shelves that Warren couldn’t give a shit less about, but there was also an office with an open door and the promise of a desk and cushy chair. The lights were on inside, giving him the additional hope that some diligent employee still remained there after hours.

“Hey?” he called out to anyone who might answer. His voice echoed eerily down the rows and off the tile like tumbleweeds rolling down the streets of a ghost town. “Is there anyone here? I need some directions to the way out.”

Something sounded in response from far back in the archives, down one of the dim rows. It sounded like a startled step, like he had caught someone off guard and they had turned around fast.

“If you could call a guard or even just tell me how to find the exit, that would be great,” Warren shouted. He walked toward the sound, down toward the back of the archives past the ends of the phalanx of aisles. A strange feeling began to creep into his senses, like the uneasy feeling he got when he watched horror movies alone. The feeling that had made him instigate a rule that he didn’t watch scary movies after nine. He even thought he heard the sound of something breathing heavily. Maybe he needed to ration his porn intake too, now he was blending porn sound effects with horror reactions. He mumbled to himself, “Who wouldn’t be creeped out by all this stupid old shit?”

Warren hadn’t paid attention to the way his walk had slowed without him meaning to or the way his mouth had gone dry. He jumped like he had bumped into an electric fence when one of the lightbulbs overhead surged then dimmed. He was glad the girl had run off now, so she couldn’t see him sweat and his hands shake. He heard something down the aisle to his left, something like a single impatient rap of nails on a desk.

The flickering of a waning yellow bulb drew his attention down the aisle. In the flickering light, it looked like something was moving in the aisle, just beyond the reach of the light on the far side. Something crouched and hulking in the shadows. It must be a trick of the dim light. That and being a little freaked out from being stuck down here all alone for what felt like hours. Still, Warren wished he had worn his smudged glasses. He didn’t wear them when he was trying to impress a girl because they weren’t cool.

He was focusing too hard on the shadows. Focus too hard on something and it can seem like the thing is moving. It was a common optical illusion, and the flickering light didn’t help. It made the weird shape in the shadows look like an animal with its head lowered, stealthily sneaking toward him down the aisle.

“Fuck this,” Warren exclaimed, throwing his hands up like an overwrought woman. He didn’t need to be in the creepy old room in the creepy old museum basement. At least the never-ending hallways weren’t filled to the brim with weird antiques.

Down the aisle something sniffed, like someone with a runny nose. Something definitely moved just beyond the light.

“Shit’s probably haunted,” he decided. That made it easier. He was a staunch Ghost Hunters fan and he’d learned a thing or two from them. Forcing a laugh, he added, “Suck my balls, ghosts!”

Turning on his heel in a flippant insult to the ghosts, he walked briskly back the way he had come. He heard something else, seemingly misplaced inside the haunted archives. He very distinctly heard the sound of a footfall and what sounded like a muffled voice, maybe two if one was whispering, coming from deeper down one of the aisles. But it was immediately overshadowed by the sound of a heavy body rushing down the aisle with the flickering light, and nails scraping on tile. Or claws.

Looking back over his shoulder, Warren saw a huge dark body moving fast down the aisle toward him in a kind of lope. An animal, grunting and running toward him. His mind couldn’t process all the details, or it didn’t want to. What his mind hitched on were the teeth. When the creature ran through the scant pool of light, vicious exposed teeth glinted inside its snarling jaws.

Warren ran.

The beast lunged after its prey with the instinct of a predator to chase after a fleeing animal. Warren felt it when the beast gave chase, like the stale air had chilled and all the ghosts inside the archives were watching him. Claws scrambling on tile and heavy galloping echoed behind him, punctuated by grunts.

Warren could see the exit door. It wasn’t far. He could make it. Trying to make his legs pump faster, he looked back over his shoulder. The creature had rounded the end of the aisle and was charging straight at him in large bounding strides. It was bigger than a lion with terrible yellow eyes and teeth like ivory daggers. And it was close.

With a sob, Warren tried to eke out more speed from his already failing legs, but his steps were clumsy and his breathing labored. All that walking all day had done him in. Something slammed into his back, heavy and sharp at the same time, sending him careening forward face down onto the tile. His back felt like it was on fire, stinging and melting at the same time with hot fluid slicking his shirt to his skin.

Crying, Warren looked over his shoulder, expecting to see the creature’s mouth open as it came in for the killing bite. But the beast sat on its haunches, poised like a giant cat, flicking a broad reptilian tail from side to side and drumming the claws of its forepaw on the tile. It watched him with evil yellow eyes, and it waited. With another blubbering sob, Warren staggered up to his feet and tried to run again. He didn’t get as far this time, only a few steps. The beast bounded after him, swiping one of its razor-clawed paws at Warren’s legs. Warren felt his flesh tear as his feet gave out from under him and he collapsed again. He had played enough gory video games to guess the beast had clawed through his calf on one leg and severed his Achilles tendon on the other.

The creature paused again, watching its crippled prey with a curiously cocked head as the pitiful human crawled away, one foot turned the wrong direction and flopping lifelessly on the floor, leaving a wide swatch of delicious smelling blood in its wake.

Warren couldn’t stand back up this time, and he barely had enough gumption left to crawl. After a few desperate flailing attempts, he turned over and flopped onto his back. He stared at the horrendous beast, his watery eyes meeting those of fearsome yellow. With a sickening horror that churned in his bowels he realized what the beast was doing. It was playing with him. The fucking monster was toying with him like a cat with a mouse. The beast cocked its head to the other side as it gave an impatient flick of its tail. Just like a cat with a mouse, the fun was over when the mouse stopped running.

Warren swore he saw an excited gleam flash inside those eyes as the monster lunged at him one final time. He looked into its ravenous eyes, as a heavy weight landed on his chest, pinning him in place. He felt his body being ripped open from throat to crotch with a sound like tearing burlap. The pain was extraordinary, but he couldn’t close his eyes against it.

Gruesome wet smacking noises filled the archive and Warren’s body jerked, tugged from someplace deep inside. He tried to scream but couldn’t with his diaphragm slashed open. Warren was still very much alive when the monster started eating him.

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

Nick could hear it clearly now, a heavy body moving with great stealth and wet breathing. Closing in on them from a couple aisles away. There could be no doubt, no mistaking it for the noises of an old room or for scuttling vermin. He had placed his body between the approaching animal and the woman. It was a protective male instinct and gallant, but not an act that would be overly helpful if the thing attacked them. A human’s top speed was equivalent to a chicken. If an Olympic sprinter would have a hard time outrunning a rooster, Nick had no delusions that he could outrun an apex predator. All running would do would trigger it into attacking. He also didn’t think he could fight it off, not if it really wanted to attack. He didn’t have a weapon and humans were really quite feeble animals without their tools. He knew the ways a man could try to survive a predator attack – play dead with a grizzly, fight a black bear, shout at a lion to try to scare it off. None of them would work if the animal really wanted to get him. Then, a man could only hope the animal lost interest before it killed him. Balling his fists, he decided that if it came to a fight, he’d fight until his last breath. Or until he was torn apart.

“Hey! Is there anyone here? I need some directions to the way out,” an unfamiliar voice sounded through the archives.

Nick froze, every sense piqued. He reached behind him and grabbed Alice’s hand, squeezing tightly, silently willing her to stay calm and quiet. He didn’t know the woman and he hoped to hell she had enough sense to stay still and silent, not to yell back toward the stranger or to run in his direction. A mistake like that would be their death sentence. Alice squeezed his hand back, reassuring him, and placed her other hand on his back. The monstrous beast had stilled, its attention captured by the noisome intruder instead of the quieter, more boring quarry. It sniffed the air, assessing the stranger.

Each heartbeat pounded in Nick’s ears like war drums, each second an agony as they waited for the monster to decide which prey it wanted to hunt. With frightening quickness, the beast turned and vanished into the shadowy depths of the aisle.

Keeping hold of Alice’s hand, Nick turned to her and met her eyes. Very deliberately, he brought his forefinger to his lips in the universal gesture for utter silence. He tugged her with him down the aisle in the opposite direction the creature had gone. They heard the stranger’s voice asking the room if someone could tell him how to find the exit. Nick led Alice away from the stranger and away from the beast.

The unknown man was toast. There was nothing Nick could do, and he wasn’t going to waste the life of a woman trying to save a man he didn’t know. He was also smart enough or shellfish enough to value his own life over that of a foolhardy stranger. He hoped the fool would distract the monster enough for them to sneak around it and make the exit themselves. His mind raced ahead of his feet, thinking past the exit to the museum. If they made it out of the archives, they would find themselves back in a long, straight hallway with nowhere to hide and no chance of outrunning whatever the hell this animal was.

To reassure himself, he felt his pocket for the museum key card. He didn’t know if it would help them, but without it they had no chance.

The stranger’s footsteps echoed through the archives as the man started walking down along the ends of the forest of aisles. Nick gambled that the beast’s attention was fixed on that sound and that victim. Pulling Alice along beside him, he trotted down the aisle as swiftly as he could while keeping his footsteps light. For such a large man, he could move stealthily, a skill ingrained by a youth spent hunting with his father and refined by a stint in the military. He was pleased that Alice matched him in both pace and silence. He ran to the far end of the aisle, listening to the intermittent mutterings from the idiot bumbling around at the front of the vast room. The beast could no longer be heard, which worried him, but he had gambled on this hand and now he had to let it ride.

The back of the archives was notably darker than the front and even in between the aisles with the temperamental lightbulbs. An animal stink hung in the air along the back wall, as if the animal used this shady area as a trail of sorts. They moved quickly past the ends of the aisles in the direction of the exit. Nick was a step ahead, still holding Alice’s hand. Looking down each aisle they passed, the archives flashed in time with their steps, giving a visual picture of the room pieced together in morse code.

Nick stopped suddenly, causing Alice to collide with his back. He was so solid, she didn’t even knock him off balance, like running into a warm sculpture. He didn’t so much as look down at her, his wide eyes fixed down the aisle. Thirty feet away from them down the aisle, a hulking silhouette crouched in the center. It looked black in the feeble light and had no discernable features, but they could tell it faced away from them by a broad crocodilian tail flicking back and forth as it watched and waited. Nick didn’t dare move again, not even to step back behind the end of the aisle. It was blind luck the beast had been so focused on the stranger that it hadn’t seen or heard them creeping up at its back. His heart thundered so loudly in his own ears that he thought the beast must surely hear it too.

“Suck my balls, ghosts!” the fool shouted from the end of the aisle, then he started marching away back toward the exit. The beast’s tail stilled, as it watched its prey retreat.

Nick squeezed Alice’s hand, a signal to make ready. The stranger hadn’t taken three steps when the beast launched itself forward down the aisle, entirely focused on its prey. Nick whispered urgently, his voice little more than a growled breath, “Now, we run!”

Nick charged ahead, sprinting full tilt down the back of the archives, pulling Alice along with him. She gripped his hand tight, letting herself be all but dragged along, her feet barely seeming to touch the ground. There was no other way she could keep pace with his long surging stride. Their running footsteps were overshadowed by the sharp sound of claws scrambling on tile and a heavy pounding gallop, then by the sobbing screams of the stranger when the beast caught him. There was no mistaking the anguished cries that filled the archive like a whirring saw in a butcher shop.

At the end of the room, Nick careened around the last aisle, his boots slipping on the tile, and pushed himself even harder down the last straight stretch along the wall toward the door. The screaming continued, now imbued with a gurgling wet quality and sickening chewing and crunching. Alice had heard sounds like that before on National Geographic shows featuring lions over a kill. A meaty abattoir smell engulfed them as they raced down the aisle, bringing them closer to both the beast and the exit.

There was open space at the front of the room, where the beast presently feasted on its dying prey. About fifteen feet worth of open floor between the ends of the aisles and the exit door. There was no option of hiding or stealth when they crossed it. Nick made a mad dash when he reached the end of the aisle, bursting out onto the open floor like a pheasant breaking cover in front of a hound.

The beast reared up from its kill, startled by the two humans erupting from the aisle. It took a second to assimilate these new targets, enough time for them to cover half the open floor. Gnashing its bloody jaws, the beast lunged after the two new fleeing morsels. It landed on forepaws slick with blood, its front legs slipping and splaying out on the tile. Its wet claws found no purchase on tile, and the beast fishtailed before getting its balance.

Nick turned loose of Alice’s hand a step before the double doors and barreled into them with his shoulder at full speed. The doors exploded open, shooting splinters of wood out into the hallway, with Nick falling through off-balance. Alice jumped through on his heels and he pushed her ahead of him as he recovered his footing and ran. Reaching into his pocket for the museum badge, he heard the beast grunting and scrambling through the broken wooden doors, very close behind them.

The nearest door down the hallway was marked obscurely Lab 754, a single door with no windows and a scanner beside it. He didn’t know what was inside, but he knew they couldn’t outrun the monster down a straight hallway. Grabbing Alice by the waistband of her jeans, Nick skidded them both to a stop at the door. His fingers felt clumsy when he articulated the badge over the scanner. A militant light flashed red and an insolent tone told him the card was declined.

“Fuck, fuck fuck,” Nick growled as Alice’s nails dug painfully into his arm. Turning the badge over so his gawky picture faced outward and the barcode on the back faced the scanner, he pressed it against the scanner again and gripped the doorknob in a blanched white fist. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the hulking creature charging down the hallway at them, eyes gleaming yellow, teeth glinting white.

A green light flashed, taking too long to approve their entry with a pleasant tone. The beast was another stride closer, close enough to see individual drops of blood slinging from its jaws. The lock slid open with a metallic click. Nick wrenched the doorknob and yanked the door open toward him. Alice rushed inside, but he shoved her ahead of him anyway as he slipped in behind her. The beast crashed into the open door, slamming it shut right behind Nick’s back with violent force. He had thrown himself inside and barreled into Alice, all but tackling her to the floor as he fell and sprawled over her. He cringed involuntarily at the sound of the beast colliding with the wooden door, hunching over Alice beneath him.

All doors opened outward in public buildings like the museum, pursuant to fire code regulations. And most of the doors in this older basement area of the museum were thick, sturdy wood. The door shuddered ominously, but it held.

Nick looked down at Alice from the position of a lover with his hands planted on either side of her head, his hips pinning her down, their chests touching and their noses nearly so. “Are you alright? We have to keep moving. That door won’t hold for long.”

“Waiting on you,” she said breathlessly, shoving on his broad chest to push him back.

The beast roared and hit the door again. This time splinters shot into the room from the dying doorframe like tiny javelins.

Nick pulled her up with him as he pushed up to his feet. They each looked around the room, trying to quickly assess their surroundings. Fluorescent light lined the ceiling instead of weak yellow bulbs. A long central table ran the length of the room piled with what looked like various artifacts and fossils, including the impressive skull of a sabretooth tiger. Chairs were pulled up to the table at intervals, demarcating different workstations. The air inside was cool and crisp and a subtle whirring indicated a local air system. A shop broom leaned in the far corner, its bristles chalky white with bone dust.

“A restoration lab, damn it to hell.” Nick slammed his hand angrily on the tabletop. “We won’t find anything useful in here.” But he began looking anyway as he made his way through the room.

Alice lingered behind him, turning on several bright lamps placed over the table and pointing them at the rapidly weakening door. She turned on one of the drills on the table, leaving it to buzz and bounce across the tabletop. Nick looked at her with a frown and she shrugged and told him, “It might buy us a few more seconds.”

The back of the room ended depressingly in a simple wall. Nick glared at it as if he could burn a hole through the plaster with his anger. He grinned sardonically at Alice, “The hallway makes a U bend. The service elevator we came down in is probably less than twenty away on the other side of this wall. You don’t happen to have a battering ram hidden in your brassier, do you?”

“That would be my other bra,” she said, looking back at the door as it took another thunderous hit, this time accompanied by the squeal of the metal hinges bending inward.

Nick leaned his head back, staring at the ceiling in frustration. His body jerked like he’d been startled and he ran to the broom standing in the corner. Grabbing it, he sprinted back to the far wall, holding it like a spear. Using the wide, bristled head, he rammed it straight up above his head and into the square air vent in the ceiling. Another hard thrust and the vent crumpled and fell out of the ventilation shaft, leaving a gaping square hole in the ceiling ten feet above their heads.

“Here!” he told Alice urgently, clapping his hands together before linking his fingers to form a stirrup with his hands. The beast struck the door again, tearing a hole through the wood. It pawed through the hole with its claws, scraping and tearing at the wood as it snarled in frustration.

“Can you get up there too?” Alice asked as she placed her foot in his hands.

“Don’t think about it,” Nick grunted as he hefted her up into the square vent like she was nothing but a doll. She hoisted her high enough to bring her chest level with the inside of the vent. Planting her elbows on the flat metal and kicking her legs, she struggled inside. Laying on her stomach, she looked back down through the square hole at Nick below.

Bending his knees, he jumped straight up into the vent opening. It was at the far reach of his vertical jump, but his fingers caught the metal lip. But there was no purchase on the slick metal and his hands slipped off almost instantly. Alice leaned down into the opening, reaching a hand down to him.

“Get out of the way!” he waved her hand away. She began to protest, but he shouted, “Can you curl two-thirty-five? Then I’ll only pull you back out with me.”

The beast crashed into the door a final time, bursting into the lab in an explosion of splinters. It halted immediately when the brilliantly bright spotlight hit its eyes, sitting back on its haunches and shaking its head.

“Give me the broom!” Alice said.

Grinning with understanding despite it all, Nick shoved the head of the broom up into her hands. The beast snarled and swiped the light out of its eyes, then turned its attention to the jumping drill and its grating, high-pitched whine. Alice maneuvered the broom so its handle spanned the square opening, wedged as tightly against the sides as she could get it. The beast crushed the drill with its teeth, shaking its head with the drill in its mouth like a dog with a squeaky toy, then throwing it aside. Fixing its ferocious yellow eyes on Nick at the far end of the room, it charged.

Nick bent his knees, looking up at the broom handle inside the vent. He would only get one shot. Swinging his arms, he jumped up with everything he had. The beast swiped at Nick’s legs as he caught the broom handle, but he jerked them up just in time. Using the broom handle like a pull-up bar, he hoisted himself up into the ventilation shaft. Alice shoved herself backward to make room for him as he lunged forward into the small space, making sure his long legs were clear of the opening.

The beast jumped up after him, slamming its head into the metal of the shaft, denting it upwards. Roaring in frustration, it jumped again, making another dent. Then it reared on its hind legs and clawed at the metal. The sound was a terrible, deafening squeal inside the shaft, ringing in their ears. There was enough space for them to crawl on their hands and knees, and Alice crawled frantically away.

“Can’t beat the view,” Nick quipped, following right behind her.

The beast tried jumping at the vent once more before apparently realizing it was futile. The silence when it stopped was much more unnerving than the banging and scratching and snarling had been.

It didn’t take long for them to come to another vent. Looking through the metal slats, Nick quickly assessed they were now over the section of hallway that housed the service elevator. He easily yanked it open and dropped down through it to the floor. Alice lowered herself down feet first until she felt him catch her legs in a reassuring bearhug and let her slide the rest of the way down his body. Holding her against him, he grinned at her and jerked his chin to the side, “Look what we found.”

The service elevator was no more than fifteen feet away. As she sighed with relief, collapsing into Nick’s arms, Alice heard the now familiar sound of clawed feet scrambling on the tile. “It guessed where we were heading!”

They sprinted to the elevator and Nick punched the Up button over and over. The arrow above the doors illuminated green and the bell dinged. But the doors were old and slow to open. The beast rounded the corner of the hallway in a fury of claws and teeth and lather, charging at them with its horrible teeth bared in a snarl. But claws for all their ferocity did not keep traction on smooth tile. When the beast rounded the tight corner, it did so in an uncontrolled skid. The beast scrambled to keep its balance, but it had charged into the corner too fast. Its shoulder slammed into the opposite side of the hallway as it slid, paws flailing haphazardly beneath it, buying its prey an extra second to live. Nick shoved Alice inside when the opening between the doors was still too narrow for him to fit. Even as the doors still opened, she was pushing the button for the upper floor. Nick slipped inside as the beast ran him down, only one good lunge away.

Nick and Alice pressed themselves to the back of the elevator, watching helplessly as death charged at them and the doors closed too slowly. Their view between the doors narrowed with terrible sluggishness until all they could see were those slitted yellow eyes and bloody frothing jaws. The beast lunged at the gap in the doors, striking the metal with a horrendous crash. Saliva and blood spewed through the opening, splattering Alice and Nick, just as the doors closed and the elevator lurched upward.

The doors opened to a main hallway on one of the upper floors, home to the biggest and most popular museum exhibits. Large windows lined this hallway admitting the moonlight and there was enough light in the individual exhibits to allow the security cameras to identify a thief if needed. Many smaller hallways branched off this main one, each leading to an exhibit. They were near the entrance to an exhibit that glowed green in the dim light, labeled Rainforest. A metal stairwell door was beside the elevator.

“Now at least I know where we are,” Nick could have laughed with relief. He ducked into Alice and stole a quick kiss from her lips.

“Freeze!” A militant voice sliced through the silence in the hall. “Put your hands up!”

They turned to see a short and corpulent museum security guard standing behind them, holding a revolver trained on Nick. He had just rounded a corner of the hallway and shuffled toward them as quickly as his pendulous gut would allow, his utility belt jingling with every labored step. Using his gun, the guard gestured from Nick to the far wall, and ordered, “Turn and face that wall right now. And I better see your hands while you’re sniffing plaster. Move!”

“There’s something in here with us,” Alice said, trying to calm the guard. “You need to take us all out before it finds us.”

“I’m sure there is, honey,” the guard sniggered and took a belligerent step toward Nick. “I gave you a command, hoss.”

The security guard held his gun on Nick, the barrel shaking in his uncertain grip. He was the most dangerous sort of person to hold a man at gunpoint – nervous and unfamiliar with a weapon or with apprehending a suspect. Those were the men likely to shoot first and ask questions later, or even shoot accidentally when they shook hard enough to spasm their trigger finger.

“Turn around now!” the guard shouted again, spittle flying from his lips, his jowls quaking.

The guard was too far away from Nick to make a grab for the gun or knock it away. So, he turned, faced the wall, and planted his hands flat on its smooth surface. He made a great effort to keep his voice calm when he spoke over this shoulder, “Look, buddy, there’s something after us. Something chasing us. Something monstrous. None of us are safe here, including you. You have to get us all out right now. Arrest me and charge me with whatever the hell you want, just get us out.”

The guard spoke into the radio clipped to his belt, “I caught someone sneaking around inside the rainforest exhibit. Looks like a pair of lovebirds who broke in to get it on. I need backup. The guy’s giving me hell. He’s a big bastard too. Threatened my safety already.”

“Ten-Four,” a voice crackled through the radio static. “Sending backup. Just cuff ‘em and keep ‘em where you have ‘em until backup gets there.”

Risking a bullet, Nick growled, “Look, you stupid bastard. You can get all the backup you want and you can arrest me. So long as you get us the fuck outta here, and you do it now! We need to move, goddamnit!”

“The big guy is making more threats,” the guard radioed.

The sound of a door being shoved open inside the stairwell echoed behind the door. It sounded like it came from a flight or two below. Alice heard claws scrambling up the stairs. She met Nick’s cool eyes and she winked.

“Excuse me, sir,” Alice said to the guard in a demure tone. “Our friend’s in the stairwell. Go see for yourself. He’s the one you want to arrest.”

“What the Christ are you all doing in here?” the guard scoffed. “Bunch of assholes ruining my night to have a goddamn orgy!”

The scrambling reached the nearest steps, the sound of a heavy body closing in on the door. The guard heard it too. Keeping his gun pointed at Nick’s back, he stepped to the stairwell door. Grabbing the doorhandle, he yelled with gusto, “Hey asshole, this is museum security. I hear you in there. I’m gonna open the door and I better see your hands!”

He didn’t need to open the door. The door exploded open with a metal screech and a monstrous creature burst from the darkness of the stairwell, aiming for the blustering guard. The guard yanked the trigger when the beast struck him with the force of a wrecking ball, sending a bullet into the wall as man and beast went careening together twenty feet across the floor. Its body had passed Alice by inches, close enough for her to smell the fresh blood and older rancid death on its scaly hide.

Nick shoved away from the wall, grabbing Alice’s arm and running with her in the opposite direction from the carnage. The guard was screaming, but it lasted only as long as a few of their running strides before it was cut off with a wet gurgle and replaced by a sound like an overfull trash bag bursting.

They ran into the thick of the rainforest exhibit, where they were surrounded by vibrant dioramas and luscious vegetation. The windows on this floor admitted silver moonlight, allowing them to see it very clearly. Birds of every color of the spectrum were frozen mid-flight, golden jaguars prowled, and ancient Amazonian architecture formed a visual feast. The highlight of the rainforest exhibit was also the centerpiece of the exhibit hall. A huge glass terrarium filled with tropical vegetation housed an army of living butterflies. Thousands of beautiful butterflies of kaleidoscopic colors flitted through the plants inside in a living whirlwind of colorful wings.

They ran past the butterflies to the far end of the exhibit where another hallway branched off. Nick pointed down it and whispered, “The old west exhibit is just down that way. The guns in there are all functional, and a few of the gunbelts still have live rounds. Maybe…”

“Will the bullets still fire after sitting for more than a century?” Alice asked skeptically.

“As long as the primers haven’t gone bad. Or gotten wet. And the cartridges have remained sealed, and the gunpowder hasn’t leaked out.” He grinned sardonically.

“So, probably not,” Alice surmised.

“Probably not,” Nick agreed. “But do you have a better idea?”

The beast entered the rainforest exhibit with its nose held high, sniffing the air. Nick pulled Alice to him and backed against the wall, hiding them as best he could behind an Amazonian monolith decorated with carvings of ancient deities. The beast froze, its eyes fixed ahead, its posture rigid. It looked as if it stared right at them through the length of the butterfly terrarium. With an excited grunt, the beast swiped at the end of the glass cage, breaking it open, and jumped inside. Thousands of butterflies came to life like confetti, fluttering around the beast that had disturbed them. The beast was captivated, cocking its head curiously at the butterflies, flicking its tail as it swiped its paws at them and tried to chomp them between its jaws. It jumped and twisted and twirled inside the terrarium like a cat confronted with a thousand laser dots. It grunted happily as it pounced on a large Monarch then snorted when another flew at its nose.

Slowly, Nick pulled Alice with him toward the hall leading to the old west exhibit. They edged along the wall at a crawling pace so as not to draw the beast’s attention while it chomped and swiped at the whirlwind of butterflies. The old west exhibit came into view at the end of the hallway, horses and cowboys and bison materializing in the dim light. Nick brought his lips to Alice’s ear and told her, “You go grab all the guns you can find. I’ll start looking through the gunbelts for live rounds. .45’s and 30-30’s are going to be our best bets for a match.”

She nodded her understanding as another sound boomed through the hall. The sound of several running footsteps and the clink of metal. Narrow beams of light bounced around inside the old west exhibit from flashlights held by running men.

Nick stopped short, his hold on her arm keeping Alice beside him. He pulled her down with him when he dropped to his knees, raising his hands above his head in a clear posture of supplication, just as several armed security guards ran into the hallway from the old west exhibit. The light hit Nick’s face, momentarily blinding him, as the men rushed them, guns drawn. Alice looked behind them and saw a huge shadow looming in the entrance to the rainforest exhibit, watching them with gleaming eyes. The guard’s light didn’t reach it and they were too focused on Nick to notice the real threat. The shadow seemed to disintegrate back into the darkness like a receding nightmare. The beast must be intelligent enough to avoid confronting so many drawn firearms. Or it was simply biding its time for the right moment.

“You’re under arrest!” the lead guard shouted as he rushed Nick. Turning him bodily around, he shoved him to his stomach with his face pressed into the tile and yanked his arms behind his back.

“We didn’t do anything, you idiot!” Alice said futility. “There’s something in here with us.”

“Save it, lady,” the guard said gruffly. “You both have the right to remain silent and I suggest you fucking use it.” He prodded his gun rudely into Nick’s back and cuffed his hands. “I heard all about you on the radio. Some big bastard resisting arrest after breaking in. And I saw some of your handiwork already.”

“You have to listen, it wasn’t me,” Nick gritted. “There’s some kind of animal in here with us.”

“Yeah, get started on that insanity defense right off the bat, you murdering sonofabitch,” the guard hissed. “Just keep talking so I can testify to all your bullshit.”

Two guards came and hefted Nick up by his arms, yanking them painfully back and straining his shoulders. Alice looked at him when he stood, giving him her steadiest and most reassuring gaze. “Don’t tell them anything. It won’t do you any good. Let your lawyer do the talking for you.” She winked at him for the second time that night. “I promise you have a good one.”

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

 © safarigirlsp 2024

Tagging some buddies!

@babbushka @in-silks-and-flesh-and-leather @mrs-gucci @mrs-zimmerman @iamburdened @gabesprincess @rynwritesstuff @candycanes19 @caillea @cas-backwards-tie @queeniebee @mythrielofsolitude @ghoulian13 @icarusinthesea @reyloaddict55 @reylokisses @heartlight-starlight @richbrittstein @thepalaceofmelanie @reveluving @fax4life27 @vedavan @queen-of-elves @srorgana1 @kyloremus @lumberjack00fantasies

[mafuluzx]

Hello! Idk if it still doing requests but I just needed to get this idea out there: any of the ninja x magician reader where the reader just has the most riskiest performances ever and has people on the edge of their seats (idk it's just been in my head all day for some reason

Of course! I'm not very fast at writing and have a lot of oneshots at work, but I'll try to write this as best as I can. I really liked the magician idea, but mixing it with some 'dangerous' acts would have made this a bit boring. So I toned it down a bit, and took a more comedic approach to the act.

Also, I just couldn't get myself into the idea of having romance in this, because I liked it as just a platonic thingy, but I tried my best! I also chose Kai for the main focus of this thing, so I guess it kinda counts as a Kai x reader??? But mainly it's just a platonic thingy.

Kai x male! reader.

Set in very early season 1, You'll see why.

Better than magic

So here they were, all five of them. Kai, Cole, Jay, Zane, and of course Little Lloyd Garmadon himself. He was the one who thought of this idea to begin with.

Right next to Mega Monster amusement park was now a huge circus tent and countless of stands were set all around it. There was something for everyone. It went from unfair and way too expensive carnival games to booths with shadow plays and even meet-and-greets with puppeteers and their puppets.

The little boy dressed in his favorite skeleton hoodie jumped up and down and led Zane, the one who decided to actually try to watch over the boy, by the hand all around the carnival.

Meanwhile the three others wondered why their Sensei even allowed them to come here in the first place. Oh well, if they're already at a carnival, might as well take it easy.

Jay and Cole for one were having fun.

"Oh my gosh!!! It's a Fritz Donnegan meet and greet!!" "And check out all these games! Hey, Jay, wanna go throw darts?" "Later, maybe. Wait for me, I have to go shake his hand!!" "Jay, look! A cotton candy stall!!There are so many flavors! Cherry, Blueberry, Popcorn-"

"Popcorn? Is that really a good flavor?" Kai wasn't really that excited. He had wanted to take the time to train, make sure he was in good shape. In the end he was still, against his will, dragged here.

"What? If you don't like popcorn, how about the chili flavor?" Cole asked, as Kai scrunched up his face in disgust.

"No thanks."

"Cole, Kai, look at this!!" An excited yell rang out as Jay ran back to the the two ninja. He lifted his hands up and shoved a picture of Cliff Gordon's face with the words 'For Jay Walker', written in fancy cursive letters.

"I got this from him! And guess what? I actually got to shake his hand!" The blue ninja acted like a kid with a sugar high.

"Nice..." Kai didn't even try to sound excited for Jay. Jay's happy smile turned into a pout, but before he could start whining, Cole spoke up.

"Hey, look at that." Cole said as he pointed to a crowd, a small crowd, but a crowd no less, surrounding a small show stage. It wasn't really much.

Jay immediately hopped over to the stage, as Cole walked after him. Kai let out a sigh before following after them, although reluctantly.

The three actually got to the very front, because there weren't many people around the stage. Some only stayed to watch for a second, before moving onto something else.

"Hey, you three!" A sudden voice called out to them from above, and the three ninja all looked up. Even Kai's eyes widened as he saw a boy, wearing a short cape and a top hat hanging upside down on a tightrope.

"Welcome, welcome! Enjoy the show!" The boy took his hat, which surprisingly didn't fall of his head on it's own, and lifted it off his head as a greeting.

The boy didn't stop to chat, as he noticed someone else joined the crowd, and called out to them, giving another greeting to them as well.

Right after that the boy lifted his hands onto the tightrope and pulled himself up and onto his feet on top of it. Standing up, he lifted his hat, before giving a bow to the few people watching.

"It's an honor performing here today! I've always wanted to perform with a tightrope, although my main strengths are, ah... are- Ah, Achoo!" The boy started off with a speech, before sneezing mid way, 'accidentally' making a dove appear on his hand. Some adults laughed while kids stared in awe.

"Sneezing doves, apparently." The comment just added onto the laughter, before the boy covered his hand with his top hat, and upon removing it, there was no dove in sight!

The boy did many generic magic tricks while walking left and right on the tight rope, nothing special. Well, that's what Kai thought, and his displeased face showed it.

Of course ordinary person could walk a thin tightrope just like that, especially while sneezing out doves and occasionally pulling bunnies out their shoes... I really wish I was kidding.

But it seemed like the boy had noticed Kai's boredom, and he smirked. Suddenly the boy stepped past the tightrope, falling off. A few kids gasped, but the boy caught onto the tightrope with one of his hands at the last second.

Although he was still much higher than the crowd, he was a bit closer to them, and his target, Mr. frowning-at-a-magic-show.

"You, wearing red." The boy pointed to Kai with his free hand, as Kai flinched in surprise.

"Me?" He asked as the boy nodded.

"Yeah, you. Wanna play a little game?" The boy asked, this time using his free hand to dig out a single coin from his pocket.

"No thanks, I'm not really into all this magic things-" Kai wanted to refuse, but his two friends quickly caught him off.

"Whoa, really? Kai, this kinda chance doesn't some often!" "Let's play! Let's play, Kai!" Cole and Jay pressured Kai until he ultimately had to agree.

"Fine."

"Great! It's easy, just guess which hand the coin is in." The boy showed Kai the coin, twisting it around to show there was nothing attached to it.

The boy's hold on the tightrope didn't loosen for a second as he threw the coin up, and caught it with the same hand as he had thrown it. Lastly, he blew gently onto his own clenched fist, before speaking up.

"So, which hand?" The crowd was confused, he had thrown the coin up, the caught it. His other hand hadn't moved an inch. It was impossible to get this one wrong.

"Your free hand, obviously?" Kai held in a scoff, as the boy smiled, and opened his hand.

"Correct!" The crowd was even more silent. But not because the magic trick sucked, but because there was no coin in his hand.

"Uh, where's the coin?" Jay spoke up, as the boy blinked, before turning his hand towards himself, before reacting like he didn't know what was going on.

"Ah! Where did it go? Did I drop it? Did you see where it went?" The questions he showed to the little kids in the audience, who shook their heads, not having seen the boy drop anything.

"Hold, on, I'll find it." The boy quickly spoke, before changing his position to instead hang upside down again, but only by his ankles. He even removed one foot and hung with only one foot as he checked his socks and shoes.

It brought a smile on people's faces, and adults and kids both chuckled before the boy's eyes suddenly fixated on Kai.

"Oh, hey, check behind your left ear, would you?" The boy said, changing back to holding on with both feet.

"My ear?" Kai let out, confused, but still raised his left hand to his ear, when he suddenly felt something cold behind it.

Kai stopped for a second, before pulling out a coin from behind his ear. He hadn't even noticed it was there. When had it gotten there?!

"Ah, thanks!" The boy took the coin from the shocked Kai as kids laughed at the red ninja, while an applause rang out for the boy.

"That was awesome!" "Totally! Too bad Lloyd missed that!" Jay and Cole laughed together as Kai finally broke free of his state of shock, and scoffed.

"It's just a magic trick, nothing special." But the boy had heard Kai's complaint loud and clear.

"Oh? Wanna see something better?" The boy spoke, having once again stood up on the rope. But Kai just scoffed again.

"Unless you can do a handstand up there, I don't think you can do any-" Kai was cut off as the boy jumped, grabbed the tightrope, and pulled himself up into a handstand using the slight momentum it gave.

"-better." Kai finished once the boy was in a completely still handstand on the tightrope. The crowd all clapped before (y/n) suddenly swung, and did an actual flip before landing on the stage, before bowing.

"I'll be here all day, so no need to worry! But I'll have to take a ten minute break now! I hope you enjoyed!" He spoke to the large crowd, who all gave an applause once more before they scattered, leaving to do something else.

"Oh, Kai, was it?" The boy asked when the three ninja were about to leave.

"Yeah. I really underestimated you, didn't I?" Kai finally admitted, as the boy gave a small laugh and a nod.

"It's fine, Magician don't usually walk on tightropes to begin with." The boy commented on his own performance as Kai noticed Jay and Cole take off to somewhere else. Probably the weird cotton candy stall.

"But thank you for co-operation, how about I do one more, just for you?" The boy offered, and took his hat off, before offering it to Kai, the bottom facing up.

"Put your hand in." Kai was skeptical, but the boy had been nice to him all this time, although he himself had been rolling his eyes and scoffing at his tricks.

Kai put his hand in, when he felt something, and grabbed it. Pulling his hand out, he saw the thing he had grabbed was rose.

"What's thi-?" Kai couldn't get to ask anything about it though, for he heard Jay and Cole calling his name from further away. The boy smiled, pulling the hat away from Kai and stepping off of the stage.

"My name's (y/n), by the way." The boy also put his hand into the top hat, digging out a business card, and shoving it in Kai's hands.

"Also, your friends are a good audience." (y/n) said, giving Kai's shoulder a pat before the boy left to go on his break.

Kai smirked, before running to his friends with a rose and a business card in his hands.

[amechyofsorts]

Oh shit, I beat Etrian Odyssey. Pretty damn suddenly too, as I feltthat the final dungeon was dragging, and then I was suddenly at the final boss, who wasn't very difficult either.

There's definitely like a bonus dungeon of some kind, right? There's way too many undiscovered monsters in the bestiary still, so im not totally done yet im pretty sure.

The game was really fun! I can see why this is regarded so highly among dungeon crawler fans, as the combat challenge is very tightly designed and dungeon exploration is a lot of fun, with varying challenges related to it. That said, I do have some issues:

The travel time I mentioned before. There is just way too many parts in the game where you have to track across multiple floors in order to get where you want to be, unless you abuse the quicksave. Especially annoying when the game has parts with smartly placed shortcuts that cut down on the said travel time, but far more often there's just trecking through the same floors over and over.

A lot of monsters are just recolors of earlier ones. A common thing in rpgs, but for a game that has some really cool monster design, it was definitely a bummer.

Once again, my big first introduction to dungeon crawlers was Labyrinth of Refrain, and there were just some things in that game which were a big draw for me that don't seem to much be around in other games, even here in EO, which is considered by many some of the best of the genre. Your party members dont really have any personality or ways they assert themselves into the gameworld beyond a portrait. And while im fine with the overarching plot being very simple, certainly wasn't waiting for a full visual novel ala Lor, but most of the dungeons themselves have little to no fun npc's or other events to give them some character. It's a real shame, cause it definitely makes it less interesting to explore them

But overall, still really enjoyed the game. Got the other three HD rerelease games, so I'll be play them all, though definitely not in a row. Realy interested to see how the series evolved from here. And I'll be finishing up any extra content from this game so long as it doesn't start grating me.

WAIT, I should do epilogues for our heroes.

Lester would go on to very happily bask in the glory of being the guild leader of the Scrapers: the heroes who solved the labyrinths secret. He would however in time horrible bungle up attempting to franchise the guild out into a bigger business venture, resulting into him going on the run and changing his identity to avoid the horrid debts. In a farway town you may find a guy that looks remarkably similar to the man, just with a shaved head and more bent nose, working washing dishes in a tavern, strongly denying having any relation the missing guild leader.

Sir Herc would go on to live to be 106 years old, before dying of a stroke while on the commode cranking out a real big one. It was how he always had said he wanted to go out.

Sunny would go on to open the first public plastic surgery parlor in the world.

Witnessing the truth of humanity's past in the Labyrinth, Literala would go on to have serious second thoughts about the immensly powerful, and dangerous energy source they had dedicated their life to designing. They would hide the knowledge of it away, and instead put their scientific knowhow into designing a wildly successful new invention, self driving board with wheels and handles, get around town as fast as on a horse carriage for only a few coins a trip!

Tad'Hah would go back to dancing at taverns, as she realized that taking her clothes off for a live audience was actually a preferable job to her then putting her life in danger repeatedly in an underground forest. She would go on to be wrapped up in a racy scandal with the next town chieftain.

The Scrapers auxiliaries would go on to keep the guild alive after the main five left the scene, performing requests for the townsfolk and training up a next generation of adventurers. The real heroes here frankly.

[corvus-ix]

Survive

WC: 4.6k

Warning: Cussing, Blood, Gore

Imagine, You were watching tiktok and a video show up with these along the lines

"You have to survive in the last show you watch but you will be hunt down by monster/enemies from the last game you play every month and the enemies will spaw 200 miles away from you but will away find you no matter what"

You comment bet and the next thing you knew is that you are now in a ruined place which you instantly recognize as the ruin of Seireitei after the devetation of the first Quincy Invasion during the Thousand Year Blood War arc with a Tacet Mark in your hands similar to Rover and a terminal in the other

"I'm so gonna die"

You chuckle bitterly to yourself and then Soldat appear and saw you

"Fuck, it was during not after!"

You cuss out as you got up and make a run for it

The Soldat chase after you, surprisedly that you manage to make a distance and loose them. You collapse on your knees, tired from all the running when a Soldat appear behind you, before you could react, the terminal you were carrying shake violently and an echo of the TC Dreamless appear and mercilessly tore through all the Soldats behind you before it disappear. A hologram appears from the terminal showing you a 20 seconds cooldown

You'd play around the terminal for a while to understand it, so far you saw your current Havoc Rover build, which it has very high crit.damage but with a low crit.rate

At least you know you could probably(?) use any abilities Havoc Rover has in-game and their build is your build which is quite the problem

"Damn it!... At least everything is max out, skill... sword ... level... echoes with an embarrassing sub stats..."

You cuss again just looking at the sub stats of your echoes

Everytime a Soldat appear you press a button on your terminal and it will summon the Dreamless which do the job for you, until all the Soldats return to the shadows and disappear

One thing to another happen and the next thing you know is that your inside one of balls things Senjumaru is handling along side Rukia, Renji, Byakuya, and Ichigo's Zanpakuto

"Hey... umm—"

Seeing the commotion you decided to stop yourself but

"As for this human, they doesn't possess a shred of spiritual pressure but does emits a strange frequency from the tattoo on their hand and this gourd-shaped device"

Ichibē explain as he hold your terminal out

"Ah! My terminal!"

You exclaim as your try to get out of the ball but fail and Ichibē was saying something more but your slowly growing more tired than earlier before completely loosing consciousness

~ ~ ~ ~

The next time you woke up, you are partly naked but most of your body is wrapped in bandaids thankfully

"Ehhhhh!!!!"

"Your awake, good. NOW GET OUT OF THE BATH BEFORE IT KILLS YOU!"

You did as Tenjirou say as you complain about it which ended up a yelling match between the two of you with an awkward but ticked off Ichigo

"WILL THE TWO OF YOU STOP IT!!!"

You mostly follow along silently along side Ichigo and Renji from Kirio place where you manage to get your terminal back and mess around it more while you eat, at Ōetsu place you learn to summon Rover's... or Your sword, Emerald of Genesis

"This sword is so unique oh yeah! Of one the kind—"

You start to tune out his voice as it start to overwhelm you

~ ~ ~ ~

For the whole night you went through a gruelling sword training, Ōetsu training you on how to use a sword after he send Ichigo back to the human world and Renji proceed to go to Ichibē place

Ōetsu didn't even bother to go easy on you as he say something along the lines of 'Having a unique and strong sword and needing to prove your worth to be it's wielder' bs

You went back and forth between Tenjirou hot spring and Ōetsu open ground for blade testing, which where your sword training take place

It was tiring and goresome as the training get out of hand throughout the night which almost results to a missing limb or some crush bones and crush organs. But there was a nagging voice in your mind— Why? Why are their training you instead of being warry and restricting you, but you ignore those voices and continue on as you take advantage of the situation

You remember that every month mobs from the last game you play will hunt you down, that's means that there's 29 days left before a Tacet Discord appear and hunt you and either you like it or not, you're now involved in this war and the Soldats who saw the Crownless definitely report about you or maybe Yhwach foresaw you. Who knows, all your sure about is that the Quincy now see you as their enemy so you have to worry about them first before any Tacet Discord

Inspired by this video

[jmdbjk]

Domodachi

Had some stuff going on these past few days but I finally got to watch the most recent RPWP MV: "Domodachi". The symbolism was too literal for me to just let it pass without commenting.

Young person, living his young person life, two innocent boys riding bikes. The Boy on Bike perhaps represents our Namjoon or a version of his journey.

It's dusk. Maybe a little late for young ones to be out. Where are they going?

Drummer dude is not drumming until Boy is even with him, then commences to bang away. The ever-present drumbeat going on in life.

The road turns from a gravel road to a paved road. Gravel road=rural, less sophisticated, simpler life. Paved road=urban, complicated, faster life.

An adult enters the scene and allows Boy to proceed. Younger boy is held back. Coming of age when not ready, immature mind getting swept away into adult spaces and places.

Boy on Bike continues on willingly.

Lyric: "I be slippin thru all kinda bullshit"

Boy rides through some sketchy dark place looking for something familiar and encounters other young people playing a ball and cup game, pass the ball to the other, but the image begins upside down, not really what it seems.

When I saw the cups I thought it was adults drinking until the images turned upright and I saw it was kids.

Lyric: "Ima lead ya to the heaven, play the pipe All my friends wanna get around in 0's (I interpret that as zeros as in lots of zeros behind a dollar sign) All my friends wanna take another pose (I interpret that as "posing" as something they are not)

Kids who might not be who they seem, young people perhaps looking for something more, something they might not be ready for. He is swept away with them.

Boy is thrust into a swirling confusion of adults pointing in all different directions. Boy is confused, doesn't know what to do.

A hand comes out of nowhere and snatches him out of the confusion.

A benign guide. Someone of similar age that guides Boy past the chaotic and slightly violent version of the world he finds himself in. Shows him the way to safety through a tunnel.

Lyrics: "We're all friends, let's dance here (I'll dance right now)"

But then Boy's world turns into some rat-race train-wreck nightmare. He's overwhelmed amongst the adults putting pressure on him from all sides.

Lyrics (Little Simz rap): "Watch I'ma go all out for my hitta I already told them I'm a gorilla Simz and RM, man it don't get bigger"

All those lines COULD rhyme with the obvious word instead of "hitta" if it was a western rapper's song. But a deliberate choice was made here. That's my take on that.

The train enters a tunnel and it gets dark, slam on the brakes, time to slow this train down and try to get control but it all crashes.

I did snort-laugh when I saw this train driver/person, Namjoon said "fuck you mothafuckin asshole Korail dipshit who shared personal info."

The train crashes and the eye of the lurking monster is there searching for its next victim.

The friend appears again to guide him away.

I think the benign friend of same age is himself. His wits, his will, his mind. He climbs the fence, not a difficult barrier to overcome. He's still able to be on both sides.

He exits the dark place, back to his previous life. His young friend is waiting. But when he gets there, Boy realizes he cannot go back.

He has lived too much, seen too much. He can't go back to where he was before. Sad but true. Innocence stripped away. He stops just short of the gravel road and turns around and leaves behind his youth and innocence.

That's what I got out of it from the second watch of this MV. After that second time, I also realized how prescient this is because of all the bullshit going on over at the Hybe building: "Mothafuckas wanna bigger growl, motherfuckas wanna take control... "

Anyway.

FESTA!!!!! BEAR HUGS FROM JIN!!!!! Oh wait, sorry, "light" hugs from Jin. He doesn't want to accidentally crush any ARMYs with his gigantic arms.

[cxlrose]

want to tell me more abt xavier 🤔 i dont know a thing abt him

he is my POOKIE WOOKIE he’s so gorgeous it’s insane

he’s from mlbb <3 basic info he’s a mage etc etc etc big pp dmg & and also the holder of the gojo skin

his backstory i…….. i’ll try to explain as simply as i can . he is half light-elf and half human (elf is his mum) and bc of that he was blessed w intelligence and gorgeous blue eyes. his family basically had like a merchant business thing going on but he didn’t care abt it, he joined the Monastery of Light (basically a dedicated religious grp who somehow houses orphans to train em to kill demons or become monastery servants if not it’s complicated but yes)

i rmb the way he like awakened his magic stuff is when he was playing w his cats but one was missing so he looked for it but found it being attacked by dogs and BANGG magic awakened and it somehow like an Ultra Powerful kind of magic (rare kind of magic that few in history hav only rlly possessed) so yeah he trained that magic using books and shebang he’s now in possession of incredibly powerful explosive magic dmg lmao

so the bishop of the monastery saw his talent and was like “oh ima recruit this kid into the knight of light” which is a grp composed of only the most devoted followers of the King of Light (the being they worship) and since then Xavier has js been going on missions until he received the title of Arbiter of Light (belonging to the most powerful person in believe)

but then the more he went on missions and eliminating “heretics” he realizes that wow the monastery is so fucking corrupt when he and an assassin grp of the monastery breached a fortress and was met w lots of people’s sufferings, specifically saw a mother killed protecting her baby :) so then he ordered the assassin gro to flee fbdnndjx

the bishops heard of the issue and saw it as if xavier is siding with the “heretics” which led them to send xavier to the border of the empire to like do dangerous missions against the abyss (think: abyssal monsters from genshin) and he grew really bitter there that i think he’d half ass his tasks and bad mouth his colleagues out in the open yeah he was an asshole

but the archbishop gave him a second chance and made him go back to the monastery which he took the chance in a heartbeat and for a second he was happy abt it but he saw thru their corruption that he started shit talking his colleagues again and doing bare minimum to complete tasks. at this point he’s having a crisis whether he shld leave but he made a vow to fight for Light his whole life that holds him back

and then boom he was assigned a task to patrol around to eleminate “heretics” but then stumbled upon two youngsters getting chased by demons lol they were deemed heretics by the church

^ the kids in question wwww but xavier had enough bc eliminating these heretics means killing these two kids so instead of doing his task he goes full on rogue / working against his duties and protecting them from the demons

he’s a part of a group in the actual game itself hehe it’s called Forsaken Light composed of the two kids he found, him ofc, and the baby from when he breached the fortress (Julian) :)

LOOK AT THEMMM CUTIES. he basically adopted them + oh yeah he’s not part of the monastery anymore he’s completely against them now wwww <33 i love him sm SO SORRY FOR THE RAMBLE THIS WAS NOT VERY SIMPLE UHMMMSMSMS

[eldritch-spouse]

So uh. I may end up doing this ask for several characters in the future but the main few that have been burning in my mind, the Icons Vesper and Zizz, I've been really curious as to how they would react to a deaf/Hard of Hearing s/o?

Their s/o has a Hearing service dog and have an uncanny ability to somehow sense when someone is approaching, watching, or standing near. The hearing service dog would also alert the s/o if unfamiliar figures or concerning noises such as screaming, gun shots, and other loud noises; also when someone is approaching or trying to get the attention of the s/o.

Would they try to figure out a way to communicate with the deafness or just use magic to circumvent the disability? Would they allow their s/o to continue keeping their service animal or force them to get rid of it?

Also, a bit more on the NSFW and/or dark side, would any of them use the deafness to their advantage? Say things they normally wouldn't say around their s/o, such as their deepest or darkest desires towards their s/o?

I'll probably think of more stuff later on but this had been burning in my mind cause of my own deafness and I can't help but imagine a thousand different scenarios of what would happen with each Icon. I love your writing, Pinnie!! I found you through Ao3 by the way. :)

-ZN

Most of them are lazy/selfish. And you've seen that through several asks in the past, wherein even if their Queen had a disability or two, they would sooner resort to expensive magics than deal with the workload of said disability the common way.

Many of them will use enchanted jewelry in your day to day outfits to circumvent deafness. The thing is, said jewelry usually can only establish an understanding between two people, those who wear the pair (like a set of rings). For everyone else, you'll have to do things normally, which is something the Icons will realize very soon as well...

Here's where it gets tricky though- Can your dog adapt to Hell? Is your service animal trained to be able to work in the presence of imposing being such as demonlords and other high-rankers? Can it withstand the heat of some Rings? It could be beneficial to get a second service animal born in Ring you'll be ruling over. Or, alternatively, you could get an imp of your own... Eitherway, if your dog happens to not adapt well enough, you can, with enough bothering and whining, demand proof that it has been sent to a loving home or is staying with relatives.

It's not too weird for them to see you be attentive to vibrations or other minuscule shifts. They've seen a plethora of monsters who rely on other senses to survive, but they can admire that you have more awareness than the average human. Icons like Livius and Vesper will make it a game to try to sneak up on you, Cero, Rinx and Vorticia are polite enough to find ways to announce their arrival, Kalymir will deliberately try to startle you and sulk when it fails (because you can likely feel the thunder of his walking) and Zizz will sometimes throw his blob around you to alert you of his presence.

Your dog can be accepted by all of the Icons with enough work, but you should be careful in some instances. Some of Vorticia's kids may be tempted to just eat it. Kalymir's lizards play too hard with other people's pets, so there's a chance they can hurt your service dog unintentionally. Cero will fuss and throw a fit if there's drool on the house or he gets licked. Rinx wants certain collections hidden from the dog, but also gets carried away buying things for it. Zizz will have a horrifying fit if your dog ruins any of the plushies/pillows in his room. Vesper would prefer you get an imp instead of a service animal because of the hyper-sexualized nature of his home...

[awakened-omen-art]

Okay so... I've gotten into a little thing called "Clan Gen" which is a warrior cats generator game and a modded version of it called "Life Gen" which is basically the same but lets you follow a specific cat as a main character of sorts.

Long ass ramble under the cut:

I have quite a few Clan Gens and a few Life Gens but none of them have stuck with me quite as hard as Wolfpaw of Spiderclan has.

He's my second Life Gen, the first one I was doing a project on in obsidian and decided to make a side one for fun.

This save file is so beautifully cursed and I'm only on Moon 13

Wolfkit's story starts out on Moon 1 as a newborn orphaned kit on the side of a road. His parents were tragically killed by a monster and then he was found and taken into Spiderclan by the deputy Blotchminnow and her mate Rookpelt alongside their adopted daughter Condorkit

Condorkit doesn't really like to share the spotlight with Wolfkit and is often mean to him and it sucks but his new parents are wonderful to him. Literally, Rookpelt and Blotchminnow take care of him so well. Whenever Blotchminnow is too busy, Rookpelt steps in, but she always tries to make time for her kits. A very sweet working mom.

As he grows up he finds a fascination with the three medicine cats Icicledart, Robinpelt, and Spotfade. Especially when one of the patrols brings home a poisoned rabbit and many cats get VERY sick, including both Icicledart and Spotfade AND Rookpelt.

Wolfkit is constantly underfoot trying to help Robinpelt and he promises his dad that when he's old enough he'll train to be a medicine cat and make him all better.

Rookpelt gets worse. He starts coughing up blood and is asleep more than he's awake. Wolfkit is anxiously awaiting his apprentice ceremony and when the day finally comes he races to the medicine den to tell his dad only to find him completely unresponsive. The others seem to be getting better but his dad won't wake up.

Wolfpaw was too late. He was too late and he blames himself.

Completely overcome with grief Wolfpaw shuts down for several moons, unable to leave his nest to train or learn. At one point he starts getting near constant nightmares and can't sleep.

On moon 10, at 9 moons old, Wolfpaw looks to silverpelt and finally comes to terms with the fact that Rookpelt is gone. The morning after on patrol he senses a presence nearby and is overwhelmed by the scent of his dad. If he concentrates hard enough he can almost see a starry outline.

Things are finally okay.

Until the next moon when he climbs onto a branch of a tree to help Robinpelt collect some leaves, he slips on a patch of ice and plummets, breaking his jaw in the process and leaving him nestbound... AGAIN

Even though he can't go out on patrol to train, Wolfpaw tries his hardest. He's exhausted and in pain but he doesn't want to lose any more time.

He works himself to the bone, so much in fact that Icicledart comments on his tiredness and offers him sleeping herbs, and one of the kits begs him to take a break and play with them.

Even though he has so many cats looking out for him, Wolfpaw still struggles.

On moon 13 he's 12 moons old now, an adult, the age most cats earn their full name. His sister has been a full warrior for several moons since she even got her name earlier than expected at only 10 moons old.

A part of him wonders why his life has panned out this way, worried about what will happen if his jaw doesn't heal properly. He wants to prove himself, he doesn't want to let anyone else down.

Another part wonders if the darkness in his life has something to do with the dark forest. If someone is messing with him, making him miserable for some unknown reason.

All he hopes for in the future is for him to get his full name one day, he doesn't want to remain a 'paw forever.

...

So yeah that's his story so far. He's my tragic little guy and i love him so much.

There is a ton more I left out like the whole war thing that was going on between Spiderclan and Oddclan but that's a tale for another time <3

[theasterous09]

So

I forgot I made some hcs for Randy Cunningham last year on a Discord server and I just found it now. I don't actually know if I've posted it here already, but I'll post it anyway... (But I'm changing some stuff to match my prev hcs)

• Randy can dance well. He's not better than Morgan and co., but he can learn and do a dance shown to him with just a few, (unnoticeable to those who don't actually dance) flaws.

• My guy is very passionate about music. He has learned A LOT of instruments in his life. He can play all kinds of string instruments (heck, ukulele is canon), the piano, the keytar (canon), a little bit of drums (Howard taught him), and so much more.

• He has been to both Japan and the Philippines (his parents are rich like that). Usually during summers or holidays.

• Randy knows how to speak a little bit of Japanese and Filipino because his mother likes to show her culture to him. That, and he really likes both countries (especially the food).

• He can be smart. He just doesn't try in school or in his Ninja lessons. His stupid also knows no bounds.

• Randy is a rich kid, despite being unpopular (and sometimes known as the weird kid due to his and Howard's shenanigans), he just doesn't like to boast about it because he was taught by his parents to be humble. He pays for most of Howard's stuff though (canon).

• My boy can sing GRACEFULLY (somewhat canon, but it wasn't shown much in the show). That's it.

• He has ADHD and cannot stay in one place. He uses training in the Ninjanomicon to release some excess energy that he couldn't rid himself of even after robot/monster fights.

• Randy had tried basketball in middle school because of his height. But after a month, he quit because it felt more like a chore to him than a fun sport. Plus, he barely had time to hang out with Howard and he prefers volleyball more.

• Randy has more games than just the Grave Puncher series in his room. Heck, he even owns a few awesome games such as GTA (all of the ones in his time), FNAF (same as GTA), and so much MORE.

• Some of his favorite bands are 30 Seconds to Mars, Fall Out Boy, and Shinedown. But the band he listens most to is Skillet. (self-indulgent hc, I love this rock band the most)

• Before becoming the Ninja, Randy and Howard did plan on making a successful band in highschool (they still went along with it too even after Randy became the Ninja, his duties are just got in the way).