#Smilodon!Reader

[honey-minded-hivemind]

Fallen Snow AU, Chapter One, Fossilized Memories:

(Warning: This fic contains dark themes such as abuse, neglect, self-harm, mentioned/contemplated su*cide attempt, sedation, creepy fluff, and platonic yanderes. You have been warned...)

If you're being honest with yourself, you don't remember most of your childhood.

If you're being honest with yourself, you don't want to remember most of your childhood.

Everyone has their reasons to forget things or to ignore them. You have yours. Yet late at night, or early in the pre-dawn hours, it sometimes comes to haunt you.

It's not an easy ghost to be rid of. There's several you'd rather never think of again. But the nightmares... For thr last four years, those nightmares have kept you awake. They've made you scream, cry, shake, even stay awake just to avoid having to go through them again and again. It was too much. It was always too much.

They didn't happen once a month, or once a week, or every few days. It was every. Night. For months now. And you were at your rope's end.

So thats why you're here, in a small diner at the edge of town, trying to drown your sorrows and your sleepiness with coffee and eggs. Coffee burned your tongue and kept you awake; eggs fsatiated the hunger that always gnawed at your insides, that restless pain that clawed at your guts and bit at your ribs. It was just the way it was. You didn't ask to be born with the X gene, and you didn't ask to be a mutant.

Of course you're a mutant. Couldn't be something normal like a student or an assistant or a librarian or a baker. No. You just had to be the one in a thousand person who has some weird power and is universally hated by most humans.

But you'd made it work for you, these last four years. People in a small town don't trust strangers, no... but when that stranger takes any kind of pay, doesn't ask questions, and does some hunting for you and yours... well, they tend to not throw that person out, odd or young or strange as they may be. The town isn't all that bad. It's small, nestled in the snowy clearing between the endless woods and the long, thin road, but it kept its secrets and kept yours, too. The prey here was plentiful enough, the place was fairly quiet, and as far as anyone could tell, you were the only "odd one" around for miles. It was a win-win.

It wasn't hard spending most of your time alone out on errands. The woods offered quiet respite; the lake offered fish; the town offered some company; and your old cabin, nestled in deeper in the forest, offered you relief from the cold and the snow and when people were too much.

The cabin was nice enough. A few boarded windows, the rest draped over with blankets or rugs or drapes, a wooden floor that squeaked when you moved, an old fireplace that kept the place warm, and the old couch you'd found, covered in a nest of blankets and pillows, as close as you could get it to the heat of the fire. It wasn't much, but it was your home, your refuge, and it was all you had.

It was better than what was before it, and that was what mattered...

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You don't know why you decided to get involved when some strange kid wandered into town.

The people here weren't being very open or friendly, even less so to them than they were at first to you. Them being some poor kid covered in a jacket, with blue hair and odd yellow eyes, and currently trying to find anywhere to go to wait out the snowstorm approaching.

"Please... I just need a place to stay for a few hours. I v'ont be here any longer than that. Just to vait out thr storm... please..."

Maybe it's the way he's curling in on himself. Maybe it's the sad, desperate tone in his voice. Maybe you're just tired of being out here yourself.

"He can stay with me... I'll keep him out of trouble," you mutter, pushing forward to glower at the crowd, then at the kid. You sigh, but offer a hand.

You're surprised when he takes it.

You don't show it.

"Come on, my cabin isn't too far. Any broken windows are covered, and I can get a fire started so we don't freeze to death," you grumble as you both trek through the snowy forest floor. The air is clean here, the cold stinging your lungs and the wind biting at your hands and face. The kid doesn't seem quite as bothered, but considering he's a little more covered than you, maybe he's just more cold natured.

When the cabin peeks through the flurry and trees, you drag him along, being careful not trip over the wooden steps or slipping on the icy boards. The moment the door opens, he's inside, shivering and shaking like a dog to get the snow off himself. You snort, but leave him be.

Setting some dry, dead wood in the fireplace, you strike a match, then toss it in. You barely smile at the scent of fresh woodsmoke and the soothing crackle of the flames. You turn sharply when you hear your guest clear his throat.

"Um... thank you... That vas... very kind of you," he says quietly, rubbing his shoulder. You nod, not saying a word. You feel a small teinge when he sits on the cold floor, and find yourself going over to the couch. You drag off a larger pillow and a few blankets, then toss them over him. He yelps, and you can't help but smirk a little.

"Vhat? Vhy'd you do that!"

"You're cold. You need to stay warm. Sit on the cushion, and drape the blankets around you. If you stay lioe that and stay close to the fire, you'll be toasty as a marshmallow in no time," you explain. You gesture at him to move closer to fire, then flop onto the couch. You don't wrap up in your nest, but you lay there, keeping an eye on the kid and the burning wood.

He doesn't look like he's dangerous. No claws, no fangs, nothing out of the ordinary. He's certainly not bigger than you. And as far as you can tell, he's not hostile or sinister. So as far as you're concerned, he's not a problem.

It becomes a problem when he starts talking to you.

"So... are you alone here? It's very quiet," he asks. You narrow your eyes, but answer.

"Eh... it's not a problem."

"But..." He looks upset for a moment, but quickly changes his expression. "Vell... vhat is it like around here? It seems very cold."

You let out a dry laugh at that. "Yep. Cold, freezing, unfriendly. It's normal. Not any worse than anywhere else I've seen."

That doesn't reassure him. If anything, he looks more worried, like you just told him someone hurt kittens around here or had run over their grandma.

"T-that is so?"

"Yeah... but eh, it's not bad. It just takes awhile to grow on ya," you say uncomfortably. You didn't want to upset him, and now you're worried if this kid is about to cry. "The fish here is great. Plenty of trails to walk, lots of cool animals to see, clean snow and fresh air too."

He nods, looking pensive. He stays silent for a few minutes, but goes back to asking questions after a few minutes.

"Hmmm... does my host have a name?"

"Yeah... it's Reader..." It's been ages since you've said your name, or referred to yourself by it. It feels odd, as though adding a small bit of personhood back to you.

"Reader... So, Reader, vhy are you alone out here?" He means it well, you think.

You sit still for a minute. You don't really talk about what happened... It's never done you any good, and it haunts you every night. Why should you think about it in the day? But... well, a little of the truth can't hurt. (It's not because you're lonely, or hurt, is it?)

"Bad crowd. They didn't like me or want me, so I left." No names said, no blame cast. No one needs to know, no one needs to see.

"Oh..." Is it just you, or does his eyes seem to glisten in the light? "I'm very sorry... you seem very nice..."

Nice? Has anyone ever told you you were nice? Or needed? Or helpful? Or even wanted-

No, no no. Do not go there. Now is not the time.

You think your eyes are glistening a little too now.

"Thanks..." you whisper into the warmed air, falling silent after.

The rest of the evening is quiet, as you both try to stay warm and curl in the blankets. You end up going through your rations to give him some jerky, and eventually drift off after hearing him recite some kind of prayer in a different language...

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When you wake up in the early morning hours, he's gone.

The blankets he borrowed are folded neatly, and stacked on the pillow you gave him. There's no trace of his jacket either. When you exit the home to look for him, you find a few tracks... but then they disappear, as though he vanished into thin air. The scent of sulphur wrinkles your nose, but otherwise... no clue to where he went.

You try not to let it bother you, but in the end, you can't help but worry for the poor kid... maybe wherever he is, someone's watching out for him... maybe they love him, and are taking care of him now that he's not here...

With that, you decide to go to go on a walk... maybe the icy winds will keep you awake, and keeps your fears at bay...

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Kurt was happy to be back home. Of course he was! His friends had missed him, so had his pack and his mother and sister and their family. But well... he was worried for his new friend... They weren't in a good place to stay. They were in a cold, lonely town. And they had no one with them, to care for them, to help them or keep them safe or warm...

It didn't sit right with him. It didn't sit right with him at all.

But he didn't even know where to go to find them again, or how to help them.

It took a week before he discovered something odd.

He'd never noticed it before, but there was an old picture hanging in the halls underneath the mansion, the one that led to some of the old sleeping quarters and safety rooms and training halls. Except... well, he knew the faces of his family, of his friends, Scott and Jean and Rogue, Wanda and Pietro and Evan, even Storm and Logan and Victor and Mr. Lehnsherr and the Professor... but there, nestled in the photos as well, was a face he also recognized... a younger version of thr same person he'd only met a week ago... Reader...

And now, he needed to ask the adults a question.

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@hermesserpent-stuff @sugar-soda @vivid-bun @danniloversugar @thewickedweiner

[billyshakesp]

Conceptualising 10,000 Years

Yes, this is another post about how the ten-thousand-year-old primordial saints of the Resurrection are, indeed, very old. But the tricky thing about human minds is that they're really bad at comprehending massive numbers. So, in this post, I hope to give you, my dear reader, an understanding of what it means to be ten thousand years old.

Let us imagine, just for a moment, that today (28 August, 2024) marks the close of the myriadic year of our Lord–that far-off King of Necromancers, that blessed Resurrector of Saints!–and the Lyctors reach ten thousand years old today. From this premise, I believe we can better grasp just how old these people are, since we can timeline their lives based on real-world events. So, without further ado...

8000 BCE - The Great Resurrection. Earth is still experiencing the last great Ice Age. Woolly mammoths are still thriving, and, according to some estimates, the last of the smilodon and American lion species still lives. HS Sapiens are still in the Stone Age. Earliest records of ovens used for pottery.

7700 BCE - Lyctors reach 300 years old. Farmers first domesticate wheat in the area now known as Mesopotamia. Humans have yet to develop advanced agricultural technology, instead relying on very primitive methods.

7000 BCE - Lyctors are now 1000 years old. Domestication of goats in Mesopotamia.

6700 BCE- Lyctors are 1300 years old. Domestication of pigs in Mesopotamia.

6200 BCE - Lyctors are 1800 years old. The Bronze Age begins! Earliest evidence of the smelting of bronze dates back to roughly 6200 BCE in Asia Minor. With the advent of bronze, humans are able to make more effective and more durable tools.

6000 BCE - Lyctors are 2000 years old. First settlements along the Nile River

5500 BCE - Lyctors are 2500 years old. Earliest evidence of Ancient Sumer.

5000 BCE - Lyctors are 3000 years old. Major agricultural developments occurred around this time, including the first evidence for the usage of irrigation.

4000 BCE -Lyctors are 4000 years old. Extinction of the Woolly Mammoth. Humans develop the first cities around this time, and wool is first used as in textiles.

3100 BCE - Lyctors are 4900 years old. Construction on Stonehenge begins. Recorded history emerges around this time. The rise of Ancient Egypt begins. Earliest cuneiform texts date back to this time.

2334 BCE - Lyctors are 5666 years old. Sargon of Akkad is King of the Akkadian Empire.

2154 BCE - Lyctors are 5846 years old. Akkadian empire dissolves after less than 200 years wow!

2000 BCE - Lyctors are 6000 years old. Ancient Minoan civilization begins.

1341 BCE - Lyctors are 6659 years old. Birth of King Tut.

1250 BCE - Lycors are 6750 years old. Ancient Chinese and Ancient Olmec civilization begins.

800 BCE - Lyctors are 7200 years old. Start of the Classical Period.

500 CE - Lyctors are 8500 years old. End of the Classical Period. Sorry, too lazy to write all of it out. Plus, there's a billion resources on it.

900 CE - Lyctors are 8900 years old. Start of the Dark Ages.

1492 CE - Lyctors are 9492 years old. Planning of Dios Apate Major begins around here in the Locked Tomb timeline. Columbus "discovers" the Americas (and proceeds to slaughter indigenous peoples)

2000 - The myriadic year of our lord.

I hope you understand how old these people are. DISCLAIMER: Not a historian. Do not claim to be. These dates are from cursory research and could be inaccurate. Furthermore, this is nowhere near a complete account of human history, especially towards the end, when I got really bored.

Ty <3

[flurrys-creativity]

Quondam

Quondam (adj.) ~ belonging to some time long past; once but no longer

Pairing: Chwe Vernon (Seventeen) x GN!Reader; Genre: Jurassic Park AU, 90s AU, aquaintances to lovers/distant friends to lovers, Fluff, Angst; Rating: sfw, PG-15; Warnings: a boat crash, mentions of prehistorical animals, dangerous animals, mentions of possible deaths, reader falls down while running.. twice, Vernon being in moderate danger; Wordcount: 4.431; Collab: SVT 90s Collab by @mingsolo and @beomcoups

Summary: It should have been a fun weekend trip but after the boat got caught by a storm and crashed on one of the dinosaur islands, you got separated from the group. You nearly despaired until Vernon found you.

Your heart hammered inside your chest as you ran along the rocky beach. Tears streamed down your cheeks and blurred your vision, yet you didn’t slow down. The harsh wind from the open sea tousled your hair but you couldn’t care less about it. Same with the pain radiating throughout your whole body.

As you jumped over another boulder your footing slipped and you fell face first to the ground. Your whole body heaved for air, lungs burning inside your chest. A sob ripped through your throat. “I shouldn’t have joined them”, you whispered and pulled your limbs to your core, making yourself as small as possible.

Three days ago your friend Sorn dragged you on a small cruise among friends. What was supposed to be a vacation with lots of fun, turned sour the second the group had decided to head towards the Las Cinco Muertes - better known as Jurassic Park. Even though Ten, who had steered the cruise, promised to only round the archipelago without stopping to set a foot on the shore, none of the group had thought of the sudden weather changes.

None of them could have predicted the storm that turned strong enough for the yacht to go shipwreck.

You had no idea how long you had been in the freezing ocean. The current and the waves had made it nearly impossible to swim towards the nearest island you had seen from the yacht before the accident happened.

Even after those three days your clothes still hadn’t dried. You shivered involuntarily, the cold after two nights had finally seeped into your bones. You curled in on yourself even more. While you hadn’t encountered any dinosaurs yet, you had found footprints of a Smilodon - the whole reason you just ran for your life.

You inhaled shakily and gnawed on your lower lip, mind racing with thoughts. Without the others and without a chance of contacting authorities the dread and knowledge you might die here, finally settled in. You had no idea how many of your friends survived the accident and how many actually made it to the shore like you.

“Y/N?”

You blinked several times, trying to clear your vision before you turned your head to look at the person that called out to you. Despite your pain, you pushed yourself up and rubbed over your eyes with the back of your hand. “Vernon?”

He simply stared at you, without saying another word. His expression appeared stoic and unreadable to you. 

“Are you alone?” You asked and got up on your knees, ignoring the small rocks digging into your skin. The pain actually felt welcome and like an escape of this awkward silence.

“Hm.”

You hummed as well, looking down on the ground to avoid eye contact with him. Despite both of you being in the same friend group, you barely interacted with him. Vernon always seemed to be in his own world and rather closed off. Not that you were any different with your archaeology and palaeontology studies. Unless people were from the same field they rarely shared your passion.

Before the silence could stretch on, you stood up and dusted off your clothes. “We need to leave or find the others. Either way we’re not safe on this island.”

Vernon raised one eyebrow, questioning you without saying a word. 

You sighed deeply, wanting to shake your head but you focused on the issue at hand instead. You grabbed his elbow and pulled him into the direction he came from. “I found footprints of a Smilodon and-”

“A what?”

“A sabertooth tiger.”

Vernon’s face twisted in understanding, right before it turned into surprise and worry. 

Seeing his strong expressions, nearly made you giggle. If it weren’t for the situation though. “If this is the hunting ground of it, we have to leave immediately. I am pretty sure that we’re the easiest prey around here.” 

Vernon grimaced but followed you without any resistance. He quietly listened to you ramble about the prehistoric animal, fascinated by the knowledge you presented him.

“I only saw one set of footprints which indicates the researchers claiming Smilodons were no social predators are actually right. Honestly, if they wouldn’t be so dangerous, I’d love to observe or research them. There’s still so much that we don’t know!”

You stopped talking, realising you just dropped lots of information on him. You awkwardly glanced towards Vernon, trying to gauge his reaction. Usually people appeared bored or stopped listening but to your surprise he looked at you with interest. The apology you usually sputtered after a knowledge vomit about prehistoric animals got stuck in your throat.

You shook your head momentarily to clear your thoughts, deciding to go a different path instead. “We need to find a hideout.”

This time Vernon grabbed your wrist and pulled you along the foreign terrain. “I got a place.” Vernon didn’t say more afterwards, simply guiding you further and further away from the coast.

Soon enough some sort of cliff appeared in the distance, its steep edge looming into the grey sky. 

For just a second worry clouded your thoughts, fearing Vernon had found a cave that might even be the home to a prehistoric creature. Though the closer you came, you couldn’t see any opening in the stone wall.

Instead a small ledge protruded from the stone and right underneath it were parts of the ship that got washed ashore. 

“You carried all of these things here?”

Vernon glanced over his shoulder, upon your surprised question but only shrugged them and looked back ahead. He let go of your wrist after you reached the ledge.

While you stayed rooted in your place, you watched Vernon wander around and move stuff to the side. “I wasn’t able to start a fire so far. So we’re at least not a roasted meal for the tiger.” He looked up at you, his stare growing more and more intense as he waited for your response.

You made a grimace - barely able to pull off a smile at his weak joke. “I… yeah, nor a smoked meal, I guess.”

Vernon grinned at you, satisfied, and sat down on a piece of rubble. “You mentioned we needed to find the others.”

You sat down as well with a deep sigh. “I honestly don’t know if any of them even survived the crash but I mean I found you-”

“Technically I found you.”

You chuckled softly and shook your head. “So you found me and that gives me hope some of the others might be alive as well. It’s just. The more time passes the slimmer the chances of finding someone.”

Vernon frowned in thought, hiding his lower face behind his hand as he hummed.

You shivered involuntarily, the dread of being the only ones alive silently creeped through your mind. 

“How much do you know about these islands?” 

Your head snapped back up again. “Not much, to be honest. It’s some twisted version of science and research. There was Isla Nublar, several miles up north from the archipelago. That was the island to start it all, I guess. Then there’s Isla Sorna. As far as I know, it was for evolution purposes and to get more animals for the theme park. I don’t know much about the other four islands. I just assume they are for evolution too.”

“I thought they only researched dinosaurs.”

You scoffed and shook your head again. “If we were completely true to the name, they should have only researched dinosaurs from the Jurassic era. But here we are with animals from the Ice Age.”

“Do you think we’ll see a Mammoth?”

You shrugged with your shoulders, another shiver running through your whole body. “I don’t even know whether I’d wanna see any prehistoric animal.”

“Why not?” Vernon tilted his head, his eyes trained on your face. “Aren’t you studying these animals?”

“I am”, you nodded shortly before you sighed once again. “It’s just. What if everything I learned, everything I imagined them to be turns out to be wrong? I don’t want my little bubble to burst.”

“Ah.” Vernon nodded exaggeratingly in understanding before he turned quiet again. Yet he still stared at you. 

You shifted uncomfortably in your place, avoiding eye contact. You could still feel his eyes on you but you desperately tried thinking of something else. “Actually, I just remembered. Even though this was all some hoax research they would have needed base camps to stay updated on the population and the animals in general.”

“We could have been camping all along, huh.”

Now you simply stared at Vernon, trying to understand what was going on inside his mind. “It’s late already. We should get a good night’s rest and then search for the base camp. It’s our best chance of rescue.” 

Vernon nodded and stretched his arms above his head, groaning when his joints popped. “Sounds like a solid plan.” He lied down almost immediately and made himself comfortable.

You couldn’t take your eyes off him, stunned how easily he relaxed in such a situation. You on the other hand felt too much on edge to even think of sleeping. Once again another shiver ran through your body. You got reminded of the cold that seeped into your body and slowly but surely cooled your core temperature down.

You ignored the trembling of your body and scooted closer to the stone wall behind your back. While it wasn’t truly any warmer, it shielded you a little more from the wind and starting rain.

For the longest time you just sat there and stared ahead with distant eyes as the sky turned darker and darker. Despite the rain your ears picked up on various sounds and each one of them made you feel even more on edge.

“You should rest too”, Vernon mumbled, turning only his head to look at you.

Your attention snapped back to him, surprised he was still awake. “Someone has to stay awake in case something comes up.” You wrapped your arms even tighter around your torso, barely suppressing your shivers.

Vernon pushed himself up again and moved closer to you. He didn’t say another word but he gently pulled you against his body, sharing his warmth with you. Vernon wrapped his arms around you as well and pulled you down until you laid next to him. 

You were now between the stone wall and his body, facing away from him. You felt your muscles slowly relax with his warmth engulfing you. 

“Better?”

You hummed softly and turned around in his hold, ignoring the building embarrassment inside your stomach. “Thanks, this really helps.”

Vernon only hummed in return and closed his eyes again. “Relax now, tomorrow will be another long day.”

~~~

Once the first rays of sunshine appeared at the horizon the next morning, both Vernon and you headed back towards the coast. You assumed a base camp would be near the sea and convinced Vernon to walk along the shoreline. You also hoped to limit your chances of meeting any of the creatures roaming across the island.

It took everything within you to suppress yet another sigh. While you thought you got somehow closer to Vernon during the freezing night, the journey towards the base camp turned out to be just as awkwardly silent.

The terrain changed the further you two walked. At first it had been forests connected to the shore but those cleared out for wide fields of grass. “This would be the perfect habitat for mammoth or other horse-like prehistoric animals.”

“So there is a chance to see mammoths!” 

You chuckled softly. “Technically. I’m not certain it would be that safe to meet them though.” You glanced at Vernon, who shortly appeared quite disappointed before he nodded in resignation.

“Maybe from afar.”

A sad smile played over your lips as you focused back on your surroundings, still searching for the base camp even after being out for so long already. You nearly wanted to give up and suggest finding a place to stay for yet another night, when Vernon tapped your arm.

“Isn’t that a path for cars?” He pointed towards an overgrown passageway, barely visible if you weren’t actively searching for it. The path crossed the wide fields and vanished into another forest like area. 

You gasped in surprise, your heart thumping loudly within your chest as new hope bloomed inside. “Should we follow it?” You glanced at Vernon, sudden nervousness creeping up your spine.

“It will be alright.” Vernon grabbed your hand and pulled you along, steadily walking along the path without a worry in the world.

You on the other hand looked around, unable to shake off the feeling being watched. It only increased the minute you two entered the forest. 

Since the forest wasn’t as dense as the last one, you easily noticed how the sky darkened - the weather changing rapidly yet again. 

“I heard that the weather is unpredictable on Isla Pena.”

Vernon looked up at the sky for a second. “So you’re telling me we’re on Isla Pena due to the sudden changes?”

“Well, I only assume it could be that. I mean it’s definitely not Isla Nublar, which is not part of the Los Cinco Muertes and it’s not Isla Sorna since we saw hints of mammals living on this island instead of dinosaurs. Also I don’t think it’s Isla Tacano, because I haven’t noticed a sign of an active volcano.”

“Lucky us”, Vernon grunted with a soft chuckle as he pulled you further along the overgrown path. He tried to appear unbothered but even he felt like he was being watched and it made the hair on his neck stand up. “You’re like an expert, right? What kind of animal could live in a forest like this?”

You saw how Vernon glanced over his shoulder, uncertainty and worry mirroring in his expression. You bit on your lower lip, letting your gaze wander around one more time. “A light forest connected to a wide plain of grass. It honestly sounds like the perfect habitat for Terror Birds.”

Vernon sighed deeply, shaking his head. “I hope you’re wrong about this.”

“I hope so too”, you whispered.

As if on cue though you noticed a large nest a little to your right, half hidden behind the large roots of a tree.

You silently cursed under your breath and picked up your pace, tugging at Vernon’s hand to indicate he should move faster as well.

A huge weight got lifted from your chest when Vernon quietly pointed towards the outlines of a building, new hope making your steps lighter than before.

By now both of you nearly ran towards the base camp, trying to escape the sense of trepidation behind you. Safety was just at an arm’s length, when you heard the loud cries of something behind you.

Like a mechanical doll you turned your head around, eyes widening in horror when you saw a gigantic bird standing in the middle of the road behind you. Two more birds rushed to its side, tilting their heads in curiosity as they stared at your retreating forms.

Just as you wanted to inform Vernon about the Terror Birds behind you two, you tripped and fell to the ground. Due to the rain your hand slipped out of Vernon’s grasp and with a dull thud combined with a surprised yelp you found yourself flat on the ground.

Vernon immediately stopped in his tracks. He turned around, ready to help you when he saw the birds slowly approaching. “Fuck.” Not only did these birds appear to be twice as tall as a human, no they had incredibly strong legs with sharp claws at their feet. 

If someone thought the emus in Australia were scary, they truly hadn’t seen this terror. 

You groaned when Vernon helped you up, feeling a stinging pain shooting up from your ankle and through your whole leg. Yet, you tried to fight the pain, biting down on your lip and pushing through.

Vernon half dragged and half carried you towards the building, constantly looking behind him at the birds that came closer and closer.

You felt your heart pounding within your chest, louder than the thunder above your heads. It didn’t calm down either after Vernon pushed a metal door with a small window panel open. He helped you through and slipped inside right behind you, before he slammed the door shut again.

Vernon glanced through the small window, flinching when he saw and felt one of the Terror Birds running against the door. He pushed his whole weight against the metal, silently praying it would survive the onslaught. 

When the banging subsided, Vernon looked through the mirror again. He saw one bird marching from side to side, patiently eyeing the closed door as the other two birds rushed away to each side - probably searching for another entrance.

You leaned against the wall next to the door, trying to keep the weight off of your foot. You narrowed your eyes and tried to identify your surroundings. “I think this is some kind of hallway that leads to the centre of the base camp.”

“Then we should follow that. Those birds seem more intelligent than I had hoped for.” Vernon came to your side and slung one of your arms around his shoulder, snaking his own around your waist and steadying you as he pulled you along the hall.

“If those birds live around the area of the base camp, we’re lucky we got inside”, you mumbled, eyes cast down. “I’m not sure any of the others would have been just as lucky.”

Vernon stayed silent, understanding what you were trying to say but just like you he didn’t want to think about that possibility. So far he easily ignored the thought his group of friends might have been killed or died another way on this island already.

Soon enough you two reached an abandoned laboratory. Vernon helped you to sit down on a chair, before he roamed around the room, checking for possible light sources and other useful things.

You looked around, picturing how people in white lab coats rushed through the room, typing quickly on keyboards, analysing data from a large computer or scribbling down notes. You assumed this site got abandoned right after the Isla Nublar or Sorna incident, leaving all the animals to fend for themselves. You wondered how much changed since the controlled growth stopped.

Vernon stepped next to you again, presenting you a dusty emergency bag. “There’s a first aid kit, some energy bars and a satellite phone in it.”

You smiled up at him. “Everything we need.” You held out your hand, waiting for Vernon to give you the bag. You then opened it immediately and pulled out the satellite phone, hoping it was still able to operate. 

Meanwhile Vernon grabbed the first aid kit and crouched down before you, gently grabbing your leg and placing it on his thigh so he could secure your swollen ankle.

The phone cracked a few times before you finally got through and heard the voice of another person. Static interrupted their words from time to time, making it incredibly hard to understand what they were saying.

You assumed your voice would be just as broken off like theirs and therefore decided to simply repeat the same words over and over again until you heard some form of confirmation. “S.O.S. Isla Pena. Need rescue. Base camp.”

Both Vernon and you held your breaths for a moment, trying to understand their reply through all the white noise.

“Chopper after storm?” Vernon mouthed silently, raising an eyebrow questioningly as if he wanted to confirm you heard the same.

You nodded vigorously and thanked the person gleefully before cutting the call again. A relieved laugh escaped your lips as you slumped down on the chair. “We’re actually getting rescued. I can’t believe it.” Before you could hold it back, tears streamed down your cheeks and your laughter turned into quiet sobs.

Vernon stared at you with wide eyes, feeling somewhat awkward witnessing your vulnerable side.

“Can you hold me?” 

Your voice was barely above a whisper but Vernon immediately scooted closer and pulled you against his chest, gently rubbing over your back in a soothing manner. “It’s going to be alright. We just need to stay here and wait until the rescuers come and get us.”

You slowly shook your head. “There must be a landing place. We should find it and stay near it, so when the helicopter arrives we’re able to leave immediately before the next storm starts.”

After you had calmed down, Vernon helped you walk around the base camp. Thankfully there were signs everywhere and the constant lightning illuminated your paths enough for you two to walk freely and find the heli-port rather easily.

“I don’t think they’ll be able to land on here”, Vernon mumbled as you two stared out of the window, seeing fallen trees and broken things scattered all over the port. “Is there another place where they could land on?”

“Maybe the roof but I don’t know whether it’s strong enough to hold the weight of a helicopter.”

“That only leaves the option of climbing a ladder.” Vernon sighed and rubbed over his face. “Will you be able to do that?”

You nudged his shoulder with yours and grinned reassuringly. “I probably won’t be fast but yes, I got that.” You turned back to look outside, watching the strings of raindrops falling to the ground and the trees bending in the wind. You easily pretended that everything would be just fine but the nervousness still had a tight grip around your thoughts.

Vernon and you rested next to the door leading outside to the port. Any unusual sound made you tense up, worrying you missed something and would be stuck on this island until your last breath. 

You slightly turned your head, looking at Vernon. He had his eyes closed and brows furrowed, appearing tense and stern. You leaned over and cupped his cheek, smoothing down his features with a soft smile. “Don’t worry, we’ll get out of here unhar- we’ll get out of here.”

As if some benevolent god heard your voice, the storm subsided. The rain got reduced to a soft pitter-patter against the window and the dark clouds dissipated. Only minutes later you heard the distinct sound of an engine and the chopping sound the rotor blades of a helicopter made.

Vernon jumped up, pulling you with him as he pushed the door open and hurried out into the open - forgetting about his surroundings completely.

Both of you stared up at the sky. You shielded your eyes when the helicopter halted right above you, the strong wind whirling up puddles and small leaves.

Just like Vernon predicted they threw a ladder out of the open side of the chopper, motioning to the both of you to climb up.

Vernon grabbed the lower end of the ladder and kept it steady as he turned towards you. “You’re going up first.”

“But I told you I’m slower-”

“Which is why I’m holding onto this to make it easier for you.” 

You sighed, sensing he wouldn’t budge. Carefully, you climbed the first few steps. The higher you got, the more thankful you felt for Vernon holding the ladder as still as possible. You already made it halfway up the ladder when the rescuers yelled at you. Confused, you looked back down.

One of the Terror Birds appeared at the edge of the heli-port. While it eyed the helicopter warily and kept as low as possible, it didn’t seem phased enough to flee. No, instead its focus turned towards Vernon, who still stood on the ground holding the ladder.

“Vernon!” Your voice sounded borderline hysteric. He didn’t react, your voice probably drowning out by the noise from the helicopter. You knew he wouldn’t start climbing before you made it up. You bit on your lower lip and pushed yourself to climb up faster, ignoring the stinging pain that flared up inside of your ankle again.

The second the rescuer pulled you into the chopper, you turned around and screamed at Vernon. 

He already climbed a quarter of the way, when the Terror Bird decided to charge. 

Your mind got filled with white noise as you stared at the scene unfolding underneath you. You barely registered the yelling of the rescuers, nor that the helicopter suddenly pulled up. You could only see how the Terror Bird had its beak around the ladder, right underneath Vernon’s foot. 

As the bird struggled and sent tremors through the ladder, Vernon was barely able to ascend further. 

Your eyes met with his, before you watched in horrible silence how Vernon climbed the few steps back down, kicking against the beak of the Terror Bird.

Another scream got stuck in your throat when the helicopter shook from another tremble. This time because a Sabertooth Tiger jumped from the roof of the base camp and attacked the bird. 

As both fell to the ground, the ladder got pulled back into the helicopter by the rescuers. They pushed you aside, obstructing your view and sudden fear immobilised you. 

Only after Vernon got pulled into the chopper as well, did you feel like you were able to breathe again. You scrambled over to his side, basically falling into his form. You wrapped your arms around his neck, mumbling your thanks for him being unharmed over and over again.

Vernon wrapped his arms around your torso and pulled you into a tight embrace, the adrenaline still coursing through his veins. He nosed along your temple, placing soft kisses on your skin.

You didn’t pull back. Instead you ever so slowly turned your head until the tips of your noses met and your breaths mingled. 

Vernon closed the gap, being just as careful as before. He gave you enough time to pull away but you only leaned more into him. 

The second your lips met, all your worries, the dread and fear melted away, leaving a soft fluttering and tingling that spread throughout your body.

You actually made it out alive and with the help of the authorities you could also find your missing friends. Most importantly you found something else during this experience. 

Vernon broke the kiss, leaning his forehead against yours as he chuckled softly. “Next time I’ll try a simple museum date to get closer to you.”

“Or library.” You giggled and shook your head, surprised you found love within this rollercoaster ride.

[sagemonsters]

interest check for new project

Would anyone be interested in a CYOA digital zine? I’m thinking something that’s Stone Age fantasy in the same vein as Fire and Ice (1983) and the Planegea setting for D&D 5e—basically something that involves dinosaurs, mammoths, magic, undead, and an untamed landscape full of wonder and danger all at the same time in one glorious, anachronistic stew.

(I have a weakness for stonepunk fantasy settings, okay?)

The reader steps into the role of a shaman’s apprentice who is tasked with retrieving a ceremonial artifact from a dangerous location. Along the way, you will meet some enemies of your clan—do you attempt to parlay and make peace, do you sneak around them, or do you try to fight?

Likewise, you’ll also find a portal to a strange, poisonous jungle full of the ruins of a past civilization more technologically advanced than your own—do you stop to gather artifacts for further study, do you hurry past as fast as you can toward your goal, or do you begin a spell or ritual attempting to communicate with the spirits of those who once lived here?

I could go on. The point, though, is monster romance. The reader will meet three nonhuman love interests and get to travel with one of them + earn (or potentially lose!) their affection during this quest. There will be a plethora of endings to achieve.

Realistically speaking this is more of an RPG Maker project (or a visual novel) than anything else and I feel like I’m biting off a great deal more than I can chew for a first CYOA story—but aiming high is how you learn, right? So, I’m going to do it.

Love Interests

First of all, I want to make love interests that are (mostly) original and not just creatures that are copy/pasted from extant modern cultures. Example: harpies come from Greek mythology, so I’m not really a big fan of them for this particular project, but I think a pterasaur-based monster person would be really fun.

Actually, you know what, I’m going to use that.

Tekka Stoneclaws (they/them) is a brightly colored, pterasaur-esque person who is a great seer and wielder of magic. They call upon the power of Sky, the mercurial deity of all celestial objects.

Meithe Half-Tooth (she/her) is a smilodon-esque person who has one broken front fang and fights her enemies through means of physical strength. She calls on the power of Stone, the stalwart deity of the earth.

Khirs One-Eye (he/him) is a theropod-esque person with a (potentially cursed) obsidian knife that he obtained through unkind means. He fights, lies, and betrays to make his way through the world, and calls on the power of Shade, the ever-hungry deity of midnight.

That’s all I’ve got for now. Ofc it needs waaaayyyyy more work than this, but I’m really excited! I’ve never written a CYOA story before, so it will be a long time in the making, but I’d love to share the process and finished product here on tumblr. Please do let me know your thoughts!

[echo-of-sounds]

MORE RANTS ABOUT BEARS!!!!! MORE RANTS ABOUT BEARS!!!!! MORE RANTS ABOUT BEARS!!!!! MORE RANTS ABOUT BEARS!!!!!

i also love bears.... 🐻

They’re honestly perfect! Fluffy. Adorable ears. Chubby. Can easily kill someone. Those combine for a top-notch animal! Although alligators and crocodiles are also top-notch, but for different reasons.

Look at the difference in the humeri alone! The left is of a spectacled bear (Tremarctos ornatus), the only extant member in the subfamily Tremarctinae. Arctotherium, Arctodus, and the Florida spectacle bear are three of the four extinct species of the subfamily.

The middle bone is of an average-sized American black bear (Ursus americanus). They’re a medium-sized bear, only standing around 6 foot when on their hind legs. Though some of the larger males can be sizes around a grizzly bear, maybe larger, but never as big as a brown or polar bear.

The right humerus is of an Arctotherium angustidens (the largest species of Arctotherium). Because of their size, it’s believed their diet mostly relied on meat (but they were still omnivorous), unlike A. wingei, the smallest of the species, who we’re mostly herbivorous. 

They’re reliance on meat was also their downfall because after the Great American Biotic Interchange, there was in increase of large carnivores in South America. Before it was just Arctotherium and Smilodon. The niche Arctotherium filled, wasn’t so small anymore. Competition and a downfall of herbivores led them towards a mostly herbivorous diet.

When the went extinct, Smilodon populator may have been able to fill the mega-carnivore niche. They lacked other competition and could have grown larger than Smilodon fatalis. 

(Toshi's 7'2, Arctotherium on four legs is 6", 14" on two -- just imagine the female figures are bear shaped)

In anxiety bear, I like picturing All Might (and really any other Heroes) meeting reader and her brother for the first time and seeing their bear form. At first, he thinks they’re a little tall for a bear, but being tall/large isn’t unusual in their world. It’s actually quite common. Then they stand up and tower to nearly twice his height- they’re back legs alone are about his size!

----

Source for image and info: “The Largest Known Bear, Arctotherium angustidens, from the Early Pleistocene Pampean Region of Argentina: With a Discussion of Size and Diet Trends in Bears” by Leopoldo H. Soibelzon and Blaine W. Schubert

[aion-rsa]

Insults, World-Building, and Blind Cats: An Interview with The Blacktongue Thief’s Christopher Buehlman

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It only takes a small, insignificant moment to completely change the course of a life. It’s that premise from which The Blacktongue Thief starts. Kinch Na Shannack, working thief, is spared when a banditry gig goes south. The Spanth warrior who spares him, Galva, is on a quest—and the Taker’s Guild, for which Kinch works, assigns him to accompany her, gain her trust, and wait for further instruction. As he travels with Galva, and, soon after, a witch companion Norrigal, he begins to question just where his allegiance lies, and what he owes his newfound friends—and the world.

From the first pages of The Blacktongue Thief, this Den of Geek reviewer was hooked, in no small part because the narrative voice is quite simply a delight. Kinch welcomes readers straight into a world where humanity was nearly destroyed by goblins, and where giants are encroaching on the northern border. But besides all that, a person’s got to make a living, and Kinch has a debt to the Takers Guild he’s bound to pay off. Kinch tells the story like he’s sitting next to you at a table in the pub, sharing the worst and best moments with a lingering delight at the sheer telling of the tale. He exaggerates and lies, but lets you know he’s doing so with a wink and a nudge.

This fantasy novel invites readers to share a pint of whatever’s good, learn some colorful language from a variety of nations, and maybe even join in a song or two. If the atmosphere I just described feels a bit like a renaissance festival, it should come as no surprise. Author Christopher Buehlman, previously best known for his poetry and his horror novels (and shortly to become known as a rising star in fantasy, as well), is also Christophe the Insultor, Verbal Mercenary, a regular comedic performer at renaissance festivals.

“My career as a professional insultor on the renaissance festival circuit definitely informed Kinch’s language,” Buehlman explains. “He’s always ready to trade barbs, and he isn’t afraid to work blue.” Blue language is absolutely a highlight of the book; Kinch’s swearing is utterly inventive, and because he speaks a number of languages, the different curses reveal a lot about the cultures that created them. Kinch presents the Spanths, particularly Galva, as overly honorable and a bit uptight, something that’s not only revealed in her lack of patience for Kinch conversing with a cat he rescues, but also in the way she argues the proper conjugation of a particularly colorful swear. (You can read some dictionary-style definitions of Kinch’s curse words over at the Tor/Forge blog.)

There are linguistic connections between the curse words (and other vocabulary) in the novel and the real-world counterparts that provided inspiration. “The Galts are not unlike the Celts; I thought of them not as a direct analog to the Welsh or the Scots or the Irish, but as a lost tribe,” Buehlman shares. “There is something of the gaelic in Kinch’s poetic, artistically gifted, externally governed homeland, and his language, storytelling, and, yes, insults and doggerel, come from that. As for chodadu, it is based on Spanish jodido, and operates similarly. Jilnaedu, on the other hand, is a more original Spanth term, meaning ‘vicious idiot.’ As with Galtia and Ireland, Ispanthia is not Spain, but it and its language would snuggle in nicely between Spain, Portugal, and Catalonia. I think Spaniards will recognize Galva but also find lots of new things to discover about her and her country.”

One of the most fascinating aspects of Kinch’s world is the impact the Goblin Wars have had on the human population. The goblins came and fought in three waves; the first two were fought by men, but soon there weren’t enough men left to fight. “Women had to go under arms,” Buehlman describes. “More, they had to win. And they did. For now. The Daughters’ War wasn’t about fame or glory, or even power and wealth—it was a raw, muddy, no-holds-barred struggle for survival between two competing species, one of whom regards the other as a food source.” The win came, but at a great cost. Humans have taken a huge hit, and the majority of humans are now women, putting women in positions of power throughout all of the human territories. 

In fact, the book is populated with women who hold their own against Kinch’s narrative voice. While we get Kinch’s introspection and his assessment of his own character, we see him against a company of strong female characters. Galva is a warrior, honorable, devoted, the kind of knight Don Quixote dreamed of being. Norrigal isn’t an accomplished witch yet—this is her first assignment outside her apprenticeship—but her raw power is astonishing, and her willingness to do the dirty work as needed gives her a wonderfully practical edge. Sesta, one of Kinch’s contacts with the Taker’s Guild, is a ruthless Assassin-Adept, skilled at both magic and murder, so confident that she treats Kinch more like a pest than a tool, even when insisting he follow the terms of his assignment. While there’s a bit of romance, none of the women feel put into the narrative just for the sake of being Kinch’s love interest—in fact, they all feel as though they’d do just fine without him, if it came down to it, and he’s lucky they’ve let him stick around to tell the story.

The desire to depict so many women in control of the world and the narrative came from one of Buehlman’s world-building ideas: “I wanted to present a world that would show the reader how artificial the idea of patriarchy is,” he says, “and how it could be turned on its head with a big enough catalyst.”

Buehlman’s world is both beautiful and terrible—the consequences of the Goblin Wars are present in every aspect of the book, including in the appearance of actual goblins. That looming sense of dread, that humans might not win the next time if it came down to it, lend an intensity to the world, and may remind readers that Buehlman’s previous novels fell into the horror category. “Writing horror is a bit like writing form poetry,” he describes. “With a sonnet, a villanelle, or a pantoum, you have to respect a rhyme scheme, or a repetition pattern, and/or a syllable count. With horror, you have to establish a certain tone, and you have to check in with the reader’s amygdala every so often. This isn’t exact or formulaic, as it can be in poetry, but it needs to have its own internal rhythm. You can have a long build up, but you must bake in a sense of dread–the reader will feel betrayed, and rightly so, if your premise advertises one kind of story, and they get something else entirely for 70% of the read. Horror, like comedy, is binary. It succeeds or fails viscerally.”

Making the switch to fantasy meant making some changes. “Fantasy… is much more forgiving. The reader primarily expects a sense of wonder, a sense of going someplace new. It’s more like free verse. You can do anything you like, as long as you tell a good story and fascinate,” Buehlman shares. He also identifies a few common traits between the genres: “If I took anything with me from horror to fantasy–aside from, hopefully, the universally necessary elements of character, pacing, and clear language–it was that sense of dread. We see the goblin ship coming, and there’s no way off the island. We feel the footsteps of the approaching giants, and hear their horns, but this is a strange city and we don’t know where to run. Too late—the humans on chains that they use to flush us out of our warrens have already seen us.” 

The horror elements are well balanced by companionship (particularly in the form of one furry feline) and song. “Kinch has an inexhaustible supply of songs to sing or quote, and singing is of course quite popular in a world without electronic media,” Buehlman muses. “Songs are how people once got their  entertainment, expressed emotions, even got their news.” The prominence of music also harkens back to Buehlman’s renaissance festival roots: “Renaissance festivals put a high standard on songs, both as stage entertainment and as something patrons can participate in. And so does Kinch’s world.”

As for that furry feline: Bully Boy appears early on in the narrative and becomes increasingly important as the story goes on. (Buehlman frequently seeds world-information so nonchalantly that when they become relevant as plot elements, this reviewer was impressed at how cleverly the book was structured to hide the significance of those details until they mattered.) When Kinch first meets Bully Boy, a blind cat, the poor creature is about to be captured by some local ruffians, who will, we’re led to believe, put the cat to death. Kinch takes pity and saves the cat—getting arrested in the process—and the two soon become fast friends. But despite what readers might assume, Buehlman was not always a cat lover. The acknowledgements at the end of the book reveal that Bully Boy was inspired by a real cat.

“Bully Boy never would have been had not a blind tabby showed up on my doorstep in  2015, as I was finishing up The Suicide Motor Club,” says Buehlman. “The antagonist of that book is a sumbitch vampire named Luther, and this poor, blind, sick street cat had the biggest fangs I’d seen on a feline outside of a smilodon exhibit. So Luther he became. But you couldn’t find two more different critters than vampire Luther and cat Luther. The latter was one of the most loving, most trusting beings I ever  had the pleasure to know. I was decidedly not a cat person before he came raoing at my door—I was a dog man from way back. But when a creature delivers its life  into your hands and starts to follow you everywhere you go, clearly loving you  and wanting nothing as much as to live purring in your lap or on your chest, it  wears you down. If you’ve got feelings, I mean. And I had some. I now recognize  canines and felines as equally deserving of our love and companionship, even if  we don’t always deserve theirs.”

While The Blacktongue Thief completes a story, the ending leaves several loose threads that readers will be glad to know Buehlman is working on tying up in the sequel. “I’m still in planning and world-building, which is a massive part of  writing a fantasy novel with sufficient layers to feel credible,” he reveals. “Let’s just say we’ve got  mountains to cross, more and different giants to meet, and one very nasty book to drag  secrets out of. Also, look for a more comprehensive telling of Galva’s experiences as a young  soldier in the Daughters’ War.”

In the meantime, Buehlman is also digging into the rules for the card game Kinch plays (sometimes with good luck and sometimes bad): Towers. “I wanted a game that would showcase Kinch’s luck-gift, and to occupy the same place  in this world as poker does in ours,” Buehlman says of its development. “There are definitely elements of poker in Towers; but  you’ll also find traces of Stratego, that simple kids’ card game War, chess, and Magic. I and  others have found it to be addictive, but also delightfully complex. There are lots of ways to  win, and lose, and strategy is a huge component–nearly as important as luck. And yes, I  believe lots of blood would be drawn over this game if it were played for money in rougher  parts of town.”

cnx.cmd.push(function() { cnx({ playerId: "106e33c0-3911-473c-b599-b1426db57530", }).render("0270c398a82f44f49c23c16122516796"); });

Whether sitting over a game or sitting around a table, sharing a drink and a song and exchanging insults, Kinch and Buehlman both use storytelling flare to keep readers deeply engaged in the story and the world. And the swearing, songs, and story will stick with readers long after they turn the last page.

The Blacktongue Thief hits bookshelves on May 25th, 2021. Find out more here.

The post Insults, World-Building, and Blind Cats: An Interview with The Blacktongue Thief’s Christopher Buehlman appeared first on Den of Geek.

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[honey-minded-hivemind]

If Claws of the Smilodon was an Omegaverse or A/B/O AU, I imagine Creed Reader has never felt like a pup, so therefore, they have no pup instincts and have neglected and possibly almost non-existent scent glands. The teens can hardly pick up their scent and can't tell what their gender is or who their pack is, while the adults smell hardly anything about them, no friends, no parents, nothing.

After the Incident, the X-Teens are trying to take care of Reader, asking questions like "when is your Urge period coming up?" and "do you need anything to help for your heat?" and "will you need someone to stay with you?", only to be met by a confused, suspicious, and upset Reader:

"What the f*ck do you mean my Urge period?! What the h*ll is THAT?!" "My HEAT?! I BEG your PARDON? Are you insane?!" "Ehy would I want ANY OF YOU to stay with me?! YOU are the reason I'm stuck here!"

Eventually, after doing a few small tests on Creed Reader, the platonic yandere X-Men discover that they have... no pup instincts. None. Nothing.

And it suddenly makes them all feel a horror at how they've been treating Reader, who, according to their newest discovery and what they know about them, is essentially a pup who has no idea what is healthy for them or their instincts, because they have next to none. They don't purr or nuzzle anyone even when under drugs or sedation, they recoil from soft words or any signs of guilt, they sleep by themself, they have no ones scent on them to claim them as family or friend, and they're living on their own in some shoddy cabin in the middle of the woods-

Suffice to say, the adults freak out over this.

Okay, okay. Reader is a pup who's been severely neglected by them, by their own dad, by both groups, and who has no clue that them not having any instincts or a scent is unhealthy. This is Very Much Not Good. At All.

So now they have to try and approach the topic of pup behavior with them, which Reader finds "weird", "creepy", and "in poor taste".

Yeah. This is NOT going to be easy.

[honey-minded-hivemind]

Claws of the Smilodon Omegaverse Skits and Headcanons:

Creed Reader: What is this? holds up a stuffed animal

Hank: This is a toy. You hug it and play with it and love on it

Creed Reader: Okay. But why did you give it to me?

Hank: To hug and play with, my dear

Creed Reader: Um... I'm not five. Or even ten. And I'm your enemy. Why would I need this?

Hank: Most pups find items such as this very comforting. Is it working?

Creed Reader: ... I'm concerned about what you all think I am... you realize I'm not a pup or cub or kit or animal, right?

Hank, pulling out blankets and pillows: Oh, we know, dear. This is just the basics for young pups such as yourself who need an "extra push", as one would say

Creed Reader, trying to eat grits in peace: their jaw is still sore from the Incident

Logan: Kid, I think we need to give you something... easier... to eat

Reader: glares at him What food do you have in mind?

Logan: ... I think we need to discuss the possibility of, ehrm... nursing...

Five minutes later-

Reader: WHAT THE F-?!

The X-Teens: Erm... hi, Reader! We, um, got you some gifts!

The X-Teens: present a few stuffed animals, teething toys, blankets, and scented sweaters and pillows

Creed Reader: ... why...?

The X-Teens: Well, you're in need of help! So we're helping you!

Creed Reader: ... Please get out...

The X-Teens: 🥺

• Creed Reader actually does have a stuffed animal! It's an old, scruffy sabretooth tiger plush from when they were little (that is the one item they actually have emotional attachment to)

• Creed Reader collects feathers, rocks, bones, flowers, and leaves, pressing them into books and keeps them in different boxes and handmade books

• Creed Reader does NOT like people being anywhere near their home, viewing it as their only safe haven

• Creed Reader likes to eat raspberries

• Creed Reader fears both their dad and their uncle, trying to run or hide whenever they're in the same area

• Creed Reader likes the rain and likes to play in the puddles and mud

[honey-minded-hivemind]

Ooooooo

I have come, with something!

So, imagine reader is a young adult instead of the teen. They already gone through the system, was never adopted, so they have a lot of resentment to parents and such. And they actually work in the school as an assistant teacher. The team thing happens and when reader realizes they were being used, they quit, and after, cut out anything showing they’re a mutant. Maybe filling the claws way down to look like normal nails, or if it’s like wolverine’s, they use a rock to break it.

How would everyone react to seeing reader after that, either fresh from their self mutilation, or some days after?

Thanks for reading my rant!

🌂

Oooooo... Okay, okay, that's interesting! I still plan to have Reader as a teen in the main au, but Reader as a young adult? Not bad, if I say so. I'm going to count this as an au of the Smilodon AU, because I have an idea for how Reader finding all of this out goes, but... I really like this ask. So good job! Let's do it-

If the others, the X-Men and Brotherhood, saw Reader like that... I think they'd feel nauseous. Light-headed. Sick. Because their... whatever Reader is to them, is missing parts of their mutation, the parts that were part of them. Their claws... they're filed down, hardly there anymore.. Their fangs... not near as long or sharp as they used to be. And the small bits of fur or fluff that used to dot their arms and legs... they're gone, leaving the skin underneath. This isn't what they wanted. They wanted Reader as their, well... okay, they had used Reader. They didn't want to, in the end, and the teens wanted to stop it, but- They just couldn't. They tried. The adults... they feel remorse. A bit scared. Because now they know Reader can and will harm themself (and likely had before). When Xavier looks deeper into Reader's thoughts, he sees their inner-self, and it isn't a monster or a beast or an evil person... it's a scared, lonely, hurt child, who wants love, but has been denied it so long that they don't trust anyone. And after what all they've done... Reader doesn't even trust them anymore...

Xavier, Scott, and Jean would try to speak rationally with Reader (their version of rational). It goes out the window real quick when Reader's thoughts turn darker, sadder, spiraling. Scott wants to know why Reader did what they did, because he's sorry, and wants them to know they care. He wants them to see it their way. But he mostly wants to make things better between them. Jean wants to help Reader, and comfort them, but now there's a literal mental wall between them, full of bitterness. She wants to reach them,, to stop them from doing this to themself... Xavier wants to convince Reader they meant no harm, and to give them and the X-Men a proper chance to make it up to them. He knows that Reader will be hard to convince. But they have to hold out hope. If worse came to worse... they can try and move Reader in with them, albeit unwillingly. It might be the only way to keep an eye on them and their health...

Kurt, Kitty, Ororo, and Beast regret getting Reader's hopes up, only for the truth to come out about why they started trying to befriend them in the first place. Seeing Reader remove parts of their mutation, leaving them almost defenseless... Kurt feels scared. He has a visible mutation as well, and while he hid his with the holo watch, Reader didn't have something like that. And they got rid of parts of themself! It's... it's so hard to look at... Kitty wants to hug Reader, wants forgiveness. She's so sorry about what happened, she wants them to know that! But... why would Reader hurt themself? Are they hiding any other wounds? What If they hurt themself again?... Storm is doing her best to stay calm and motherly, which sadly doesn't get her very far. She knows they've hurt Reader, and it doesn't feel good, for Reader or for them. But they need to own up to it. The best they can do is apologize, and hope Reader forgives them, or at least doesn't hurt themself further. Perhaps getting Hank to talk with them would be better... Hank would try and help them, would try to talk with Reader. He wants to provide therapy, or at least get them to have a medical exam. He needs to know how bad they hurt themself. But they're not budging. He doesn't want Charles to force Reader. No. But if they want to help them, they need them under their care. And sadly, Reader does not want to be under their care or protection after everything...

Rogue, Evan, and Logan feel guilty. They know they didn't trust Reader at first. That they didn't want to give them the benefit of the doubt. But seeing how bad it's hurt them, that they'd rather hurt themself than them... It's a tough pill to swallow. Reader already had trust issues. They already didn't have a high opinion of themself. And they just made those a whole lot worse. Rogue is truly sorry, wanting to have Reader stay with them so they don't hurt themself or disappear. She's scared that if they look away from them, they'll be gone. That Reader will leave, or worse, be dead. Evan wants to apologize, but he also wants Reader to give them a second chance. Even his aunt is in on it, and maybe Reader would believe two of them over just one? He really wants them to not give up on them... Logan knows he hasn't handled knowing Reader very well. He knew about some of their past, and wrote them off as a bad influence. And they weren't. They're the cub of his "brother" (he doesn't know if that fuzzy maniac is his brother or not), but they've never even met the guy, let alone know who he was. It wasn't fair of him to get mad with them, to treat them as a potential threat. Seeing them harm themself though... It makes him realize that they had every chance to go after all of them, but instead they turned on themself. And for that... he realizes he shouldn't have been been hard. So cold.

The Brotherhood teens want to throw up. Their favorite assistant teacher, the one who tended to see the best in them, is missing parts of themself, or has cut them down. And it scares the cr*p out of them. This is their favorite teacher! Their go-to adult in school when things go wrong or people won't leave them alone! And they've. Hurt. Themself. They didn't want to use them! They swear! But... they're not sure this is an easy fix. This isn't as simple as saying sorry. This had consequences, and they've (mostly) learned that one has to own up to them, no matter what they be. Lance doesn't want to imagine Reader leaving them. They're the one adult he trusts. And now they're scared, or at least wary, of all of them. The X-Teens are in the same boat, so while he hates to say it, he might have to work with them to get Reader to stay, and hopefully heal and regrow their claws and fangs and fuzz. Todd feels sick. He didn't realize they could do that. They could actually remove parts of their mutation? Just like that? Thinking about it gives him shivers. Who would give their powers up? Who'd willingly hurt themself? He understands why they'd do it, he just wishes they hadn't. Fred wants to hug Reader and cry. His favorite adult (who's only a few years older than all of them) just hurt themself. And is upset with them. And is sad. He doesn't want them to be upset! Or hurt! He's trying to apologize, and is on the same boat as Lance to get the X-Teens help in apologizing, if it means Reader might forgive them. Pietro knows what they did. He knows it was wrong. Is he sorry?... Yes. But he still wants Reader with them. Seeing them they way they are... he still thinks they should be with them, even more now. They need help. His dad can get help, okay? H*ck, if they have to, they can pull Sabretooth in, okay?! He just... he doesn't want Reader to hurt themself even more. They're nice, and pay attention to him and his sister, good attention. How can they let them hurt? Wanda is asking Reader why they did it. She wants to know Reader's perspective on this, on why they did it, how they feel about them all. She doesn't want to hurt them, and she won't, but Reader needs help. She will not have her favorite adult die on her or hurt themself, so they'd better hurry up and go to her father or Xavier and get them involved, otherwise, they're going to have a problem. Mystique feels for Reader. Being distrusted by everyone. Having mutations that single them out. It hurts. It hurts her even more knowing she has hurt Reader with her actions. But this proves to her Reader needs a team. A group. She's grateful Reader hasn't taken their anger or hurt out on them, like their father might have. She knows they deserve it. But... she isn't sure if they should turn to... the X-Men... blegh... or to Magneto... who she's mad with... And unfortunately, those are her two options. The joys of being an adult, being responsible... Hopefully they can reach Reader before it could be too late...

[honey-minded-hivemind]

🌓Meet Me In The Woods🪶 Post/Opening:

(Warning: Platonic yandere themes, mentioned neglect and abuse, something bad happened to Reader that led to themending up in the future, and some creepiness/discomfort... You have been warned...)

• Was it always this cold?

• The chill seeps into your bones, kisses your cheeks, sinks behind your eyes and into your brain. The sky is gray, clouds covering it in a thick blanket of wooly silver. There is snow drifting down softly, dusting the area in a light powder, smelling of frost and rain. Yet you don't understand it. Why... why are you here? Weren't you somewhere else?

• Hauling yourself up, you take to dusting off the ice and pine needles stuck to your clothes, shivering at the feeling of air on your wet skin. Last you checked, you hadn't been in the snow... right? You can feel the dead leaves and pine needles underfoot, hear the crackle of ice breaking, see the dark trees surrounding you, smell the scent of fresh dew and rotting litter and sweet pine sap. Where exactly are you?

• With little thought besides finding shelter, you stumble through the woods, looking for any signs of civilization or shelter. You just don't get it. What was going on? This wasn't making sense... You hum a little, your teeth clicking together sharply, and hone in on the scent of smoke and gasoline. Huh... That's good. You come across a road, wet and black and slippery, and on the other side, a bar of some kind... Well. Looks like it's your lucky day.

• It doesn't take long to hurry across, careful not to fall or faceplant into the freezing dirt and mud, but you're able to drag yourself to the door, creeping in. A groan escapes you at the feeling of warm air coating your chilled body, and shuffle l inside to sit on a barstool. The smell of alcohol amd sweat and grease is strong, gross, but you ignore it as best you can, trying to listen to the tv that crackles with news and voices.

• "- and in other related news, the president has spoken of plans to celebrate the anniversary of the Great Act, with some saying the mutant peacekeepers will be there. So far, no terrorists have tried to attack as preparations are made to celebrate the peace between humans and mutants, and the New Year will soon be around the corner. Back to you-"

• ... What?... You stare at the screen, confused. You're not sure what the h*ll the news anchor just said, but it can't be what you heard. Last you checked, humans and mutants did not coexist peacefully. And what was a Great Act? You hummed softly to yourself, eyes squinting. You heard the rustle of papers, and turn to see someone flipping through a newspaper, a cup of coffee next to them. But when you saw the date, you startled.

• No. No no no. No. It can't be.

• But nothing magically disappeared and you didn't wake up. Whatever was going on... it seemed you were ahead a few years in the future... You tap the counter underneath your hands, claws clicking lightly against the surface. You... you don't know what to do... You feel a sense of unease, and notice that there are people now watching you, a few looking shocked while others look confused.

• You decide to leave then, quick to slip into the darker shadows and hurry out the door. You're going to need to be careful...

• You find yourself drifting from place to place. After being able to find a hooded coat and some gloves, you take to wandering, always on the move, never staying too long in one place. You aren't sure what all has happened while you've been gone, but you aren't eager to rush back to Bayville or go seek the others out. Look... You didn't want to stir something up, or get in trouble for something, or be yelled at. H*ll, you're not even sure where they are! But... you want to enjoy yourself, just a little. This isn't peace, and it isn't happiness, but it's the closest you've been to it in a d*mn long time. So for now, you just want to savor the quiet of being alone.

• You're in a small bar again, somewhere in the middle of cold, wintery nowhere, sipping lightly at a soda as you warm up. The weather is getting harsher, the roads are gaining ice, the snow is falling more each week... Winter is in full sway, and you have to stop every few days in a little diner or bar or shop to warm up, get something to drink, take a rest, and then it's back to the road and the snow and the silence. You're not eager to talk with anyone. There have been a few who have asked what a kid is doing on their own, but a simple lie or omitted truth keeps them from suspecting anything. You've met a few nicer folk, ones who only see a stranger to talk to or someone to ask for the weather or time, but you don't go deeper than that. There's no point. Maybe everyone is caught up in peace or acting decent, but... You've lived through the hate. You saw it firsthand in both humans amd mutants. Just because someone shares a kind word or a bit of change doesn't mean they won't turn on you the first chance they get. It's the nature of living. It's what everyone's shown you.

• The soft static of a radio playing is almost a lullaby to your ears, the smell of old leather and fresh food a balm to your senses, the heat in the air refreshing for your frost-chilled skin. You wouldn't mind dozing for a bit, to soak in the bit of peace this moment brings... But you're back to watching in a few minutes, tiredly alert. You like to savor each new place, but, well, old habits die hard. You take another drink from your cup, swallowing the fizzling liquid-

• And then you hear a shuffle outside, and someone else wanders in.

• You sigh, a feeling of annoyance settling in when they sit next to you. You don't want to converse with anyone today... But they don't say anything, simply sitting beside you, not sparing you a glance. They're wrapped in their own jacket, and you can't make out much of their features... So you turn back to your drink, listening to the snowstorm outside...

• They hadn't meant to wander into this place.

• It was cold, wet, miserable, each sting of the wind and each bite of the frost reminding them why they hated being out for too long into this weather. Nothing good was out here... But someone had to come out this far, make sure nothing was brewing to cause trouble, no uprisings or riots or some hidden enemy waiting to pounce later on. It was best to be cautious, careful, yadda yadaa yadaa...

• Honestly... this weather only reminds them of someone who's been gone for awhile now. They miss them. It's hard, thinking about them, knowing they won't be waiting for them back with the others, having to go each year without hearing them talk or seeing them... And even now that they've helped make things better, have the peace they and their friends have fought for, are no longer afraid to exist... they just wish that other person was here... But they can't freeze over or wait for the snow to swallow them up. They have family waiting for them back home, and they can't leave them to deal with it all alone. So here they are, wandering into a dimly lit bar, sitting down next to someone small and quiet and hidden in their own coat...

• Huh... They don't show any outward sign of hesitance or curiosity, but they take note of the way the kid next to them has their hands covered, as well as the hood casting part of their face in shadow. Dramatic, or in need of help? They hum, making sure to order their own drink, and close their eyes for a minute. Their senses seem to buzz lightly, and they breath in deep. Huh-

• Wait a minute...

• No... It can't be...

• Their eyes open, shifting over to glance at the kid, who's sipping lightly at their glass, their shoulders hunched. They turn to face them a little, pulling back their own jacket to get a better look at them.

• "Reader...?"

• And the kid freezes, slowly turning to stare up, up, up, until their eyes lock with their's. And then those little eyes, eyes they thought they'd never see again, widen...

[honey-minded-hivemind]

The beans are on a roadtrip, to find themselves, their sanity, and to have a moment's peace from their platonic yans and universes...

[honey-minded-hivemind]

I imagine Gambit with a reader in one hand and a snakelet Rogue in the other. Poor guy probably has such conflicted feelings in regards to Rogue rn. On one hand, it's Rogue! On the other hand, snake... Like I don't think Gambit is afraid afraid, but you do not mess with snakes in the bayou. You wanna get bit? That's how you get bit, plus you have a solid chance of getting bit by something venomous. So Gambit has a healthy but distant respect for snakes.

The un-animalified adults are probably doing a roll call to make sure everyone else is accounted for. Keeping all the baby animals in sight so no one wanders off and gets mistaken for an actual animal by someone who wasn't present for the villain fight. OG Creed Reader has been the most vocal in their dislike of being stuck with the yans. Smilodon has the most escape attempts on record. And unexpectedly Cave Bear is causing the most mess. You ever see those videos of the Panda Keeper constantly trying to keep baby pandas out of mischief? That is Cave Bear right now. As for the villain...well they disappeared in the aftermath. But there have been sightings of a very small weasel in the mansion and people are trying to find out who they missed getting hit by the beam. Attempts to catch the lil guy have been unsuccessful so far.

Ahaha!

So cute!!

Gambit is being very gentle and very safety-minded holding and handling his beloved Rogue as a snake, especially since she is a venomous one, and he very much would like to keep his fingers and his life. Holding a Reader in one hand is hard, since they keep squirming and growling and crying, and even if he cuddles them and holds up treats or a bottle they won't bite.

The adults, seeing the chaos caused by their teens turned into animals, are trying to figure out how to change everyone back, while in the meantime they keep their kids safe, away from the outdoors, and somewhere that they can play and eat and nap and do whatever baby animals do.

(Watch Logan amd Storm take pictures, just watch them-)

The Readers make a very large mess, mostly because Cave Bear Cub Creed Reader is looking for snacks, napping in dangerous spots, amd trying to hide in places too big for bear cubs. Smilodon Cub Creer Reader is yowling and scratching and biting and being a menace, and Logan amd Hqnk have to try and sedate them, just so they can eat and take a nap and get a bath to rinse off any dirt or blood. And Lynx or Bobcat Kitten Creed Reader is trying to outrun the other baby animal teens, who are busy following them like a cuddly, eager pack of wolves or love-hungry amd cuddle-hungry beasts, who want to drag them into their new room (a spare room hastily turned into an enclosure for baby animals with the rambunctious chaos of teenagers).

Yeah. The Readers are in for it now...

[honey-minded-hivemind]

What if we do a Dark Claws of the Smilodon/Smilodon AU/Creed Reader AU? Where Creed Reader ends up dying or hurt or committing suicide, leaving the others behind and ending up giving them the push to try and take control, or become more fierce, more dangerous, protecting mutants and setting up the Mansion as a paradise/safe haven, except young mutants can't leave...

Yet, somehow, Creed Reader ends up in the future where this has happened, and is so confused and tired... They remember a few things, but they just feel so... blurred. Tired. Like their mind is still processing what happened, and where they are now, and why the world is suddenly under control of mutants...

So they're off on their own, in the snowy outer cities, trying to piece together what happened to them, what caused them to end up in such an odd future, and why they feel uneasy when people stare a little too long at them...

(They end up wearing a hooded cloak/jacket, trying to hide their face and scars, and sticks to more quiet, isolated areas, so as not to run into trouble or be outed too early, since they have no clue where the X-Men or Brotherhood or teens are, let alone their dad and uncle...)

(Yep... Let's go even darker with them... Any questions?)

[honey-minded-hivemind]

Idk why but lately I've been thinking a lot about a reader who is some flavor of trans/didn't vibe with their assigned gender at birth. Maybe in a scenario where they were kinda neglected with the X-men they were worried being different like that would only make them more isolated/get reader in trouble. So in a scenario like in fallen snow au where they are separated from the yans for an extended period of time and find themselves free and living on their own, reader just goes all out with dressing and presenting themselves in a way that they feel like they couldn't before. Like, they look completely different from when they left/ran away from the mansion.

When the yans do find reader? Reader has gone all out, they realized theyre transfem? Reader is wearing all the girly clothes she always wanted to but was too scared to try. Reader realized theyre transmasc? He's cut his hair, has a binder and models his look after like- Ryan Reynolds or something. Reader realized theyre nonbinary? They be rocking the most slaying fit that reassures them of their androgenous identity.

Idk just- the x-men finally finding reader after a long time only to realize just how little they all really knew reader. The yans realizing just how badly they messed up bc only when reader was alone and away from the mansion did reader feel confident/comfortable enough to come out. Heck, maybe reader DID try to come out but the yans were just that neglectful.

The real question is if the yans overcorrect themselves and slather trans!reader with affection or just act like reader always presented as their preferred gender and the yans try to pretend they didnt mess up as badly as they did.

I was thinking about this as well-

If Creed Reader (or any Reader) was trans (transfem/transmasc/transenby), they'd feel like they could breath, could just be, foe the first time they're alone amd on their own. They have no one to please, no reason to pretend, nothing to hide or standards to reach or anything holding them back. So they get creative. Go all out.

They're transfem? Good bye nether region, hello lipstick and sleek dresses and skirts and appearing more feminine! They adore feeling this way, and enjoy becoming more of themself each day!

They're transmasc? Good bye chest, and welcome extra hair everywhere and wearing only shorts and trying different suits on and appearing more masculine! They appreciate the warmth they feel, and accept their new changes with open arms!

They're transenby? Well, they're doing whatever they want! Don't want a chest? It's gone! Don't like their lower regions? They're changing them! They want to wear tank tops and shorts and not be too curvy or muscular? Ha! It's no problem! They like being them, not necessarily a male or female, just them, scars and flesh and soul and all!

The platonic yans, upon seeing Reader for the first time in awhile, are shocked.

Reader is... a guy/woman/envy?

They know even less about them then they thought!

The platonic yans are bending over backwards to try and get their pronouns right, trying to appeal to their preferred wants and likes, calling them pretty or beautiful or handsome or gorgeous or cute or stunning, whatever makes them smile or feels good, they'll do it, just tell them! Reader likes skirts or shorts or pants? Oh, look, a whole closet full, each in varying lengths and styles and colors! Reader likes certain body sprays or perfumes or scents? Here's a new one to try each day of the year, in enough scents that any body or beauty store woukd be jealous! Reader wants to appear a certain way? Let them help! Be it braiding their hair or trimming it or shaving it off or growing it out or whatever they want, let them know, amd they'll accommodate it!

They're all so, so eager, and very, very overzealous in their efforts. They will NOT fail this time. And if anyone gets Reader's gender wrong?

That person will find a very p*ssed-off Sabretooth, Wolverine, Charles Xavier, Morph, and a whole herd of unhappy teens about to beat their *ss.

Reader is THEIR little sunshine, so they better treat them with respect!!!

[honey-minded-hivemind]

It's really no secret that I'm a big fan of Creed!Reader. But like I've been thinking about this for a while now. I feel like there are a lot of smaller mutant feral readers (which I adore, don't get me wrong)...but honestly? I picture any child/clone of Sabertooth as absolutely MASSIVE. Just a big ol' gentle giant of a Reader. I'm a fan of the nicer characterization of Creed Reader and I think it'd be really fitting if they were just like...too big to be mean.

They kinda learn early on that their size means they don't have to try to hurt someone, but they have to be careful in order to protect things and be gentle. They really take it to heart and do their best to not be too rough with the others, while also giving a legitimate reason for the adult mutants to be harsher on them...because they can cause a lot more harm and thus are under more speculation. Even if they really don't want to hurt anyone... I've nicknamed them Cave Bear Reader, as kind of a nod to the prehistoric ties that Sabertooth's name has.

AaaaaawwwwwwwwW!!!!! I LOVE THEM!!!!

Gentle giant Creed Reader is one of my favorite flavors of Creed Reader!!!! (Who doesn't love a Reader who's tall and is hard to fight, but is sweet as pie?)

They're absolutely massive, only smaller than their dad (or maybe even bigger than him-), they have long, sharp claws, big strong hands, their hair is long amd fluffy and wild, their fangs are sharp and look cute when they smile, and their eyes are big and wide and full of emotion.

(When their dad/uncle/the X-Men and Brotherhood get their hands on them in the aus (think Meet Me In The Woods AU or Fallen Snow AU) they're trying to get Reader to go with them-

Except Creed Reader towers over the teens and Logan and possibly their dad, and is looking like a scared cub or kitten who's about to run or cry)

(It leaves a bad taste in the platonic yans mouths knowing their cub/student/friend fears them, and is likely to run from them the first chance chance get. Please... Please don't run... They just want to talk, okay? So just sit down, have a drink, and let's talk...)

(Ask questions for that AU if you want, now I'm craving gentle giant and large teddy bear/cuddly tiger Creed Reader, @vivid-bun -) (Just watch as their dad tries to hug them and poor Reader just so confused and slightly scared, because their dad - er, biological parent- never, ever hugged them before...)

[honey-minded-hivemind]

Ngl I was thinking the mystery figure in the Meet Me in the Woods opener was Kurt. The shuffle outside before the bar door opened reminded me of the noise his teleportation made. Plus, if anyone could relate to Smilodon Reader being judged about their appearance/family connections it would be Kurt, so it makes sense they allow themself to be swayed by him.

Hmmmm... good guess, very good guess!

If it was Kurt, poor guy is having a heart attack when he realizes the teen next to him is Reader. He just freezes up- then is asking where they've been, what's happened to them, did they get hurt, why are they still the same size and age, have they been eating anything-?! He's trying to hug them or wrap his tail around them, but Reader is having none of it.

Reader, on the other hand, is trying to leave, saying they've got to go, and trying to push this hyper guy who looks like Kurt (he's older now?) away from them, they're trying to go out the door- But they can't escape him. So all they can do is agree to go somewhere for food, and to talk (amd hopefully avoid alerting the X-Men or any other mutants...)

( @vivid-bun Good guess! I liked it! @sugar-soda and @thewickedweiner Good guess, right? Who did y'all want to guess? And in the end, which characters makes the most sense or is the one you hope to be there?)