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maxwell-grant · 3 years

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What’s the difference between a pulp hero and a super hero?

There is a common sentiment when discussing pulp heroes, when compared to superheroes, that positions the two as if they were separate by entire eras, with pulp heroes being as distinct from the superheroes as the dinosaurs are to mankind. But then again, the dinosaurs never really went away, did they?

Oh sure, they endured a great extinction, they downsized and ceded their thrones to the tiny little rats that scurried in their shadow, who then grew to become just as big, and then even bigger, but they never went away. They simply adapted into new forms and formed new ecosystems. We call them birds now.

The gap between Superman and The Shadow is merely 6 years, hardly much of a generation. There are those that argue that the Marvel and DC universes still have pulp heroes, that Batman is (or was) one, that characters like The Question and Moon Knight carry on the tradition. We have characters like Hellboy, Grendel, Tom Strong and Zack Overkill as original, modern examples of pulp characters, strongly identified as such. Venture Bros had in 2016 the best modern take on the Green Hornet. Lavender Jack is still going strong. So the idea that pulp heroes are defined solely by being old and outdated isn’t exactly true, when clearly there’s still enough gas in the tank centuries later for stories with them to be told.

Is there any meaningful distinction between pulp heroes and superheroes? If not, can we identify one?

Costume is definitely a big part of it, as Grant Morrison famously argued in his own summation. Of what he considers the big difference between the two:

“What makes the superhero more current is the performance aspect. That's what The Shadow and those other guys don't really have. Their costumes are not bright, and they don't have their initials on their chest, and everything isn't out front and popping like the superheroes. I think we can relate to that about them because in the world we live in, everyone has a constant need to be a star. I think superheroes are keyed into that parallelism. They're performers. They're rock stars, and they always have been.

And he’s right, to an extent. It’s definitely tied into the central differences between The Shadow and Batman, as I’ve elaborated. While The Shadow was far, far from the only type of pulp hero, the superhero’s costume has long been defined as THE thing that sets it apart from every other type of fictional character. At least, when it comes to American superheroes.

Because the “criteria” for superheroes is nowhere near as set in stone as some would like to believe. Our basic definition of superheroes is based around comparisons and contrasts to Superman and Batman, and how they fit into what we call “the superhero genre”. The existence of a superhero genre is, in and of itself, debatable, and any working definition for superheroes is inevitably going to have too many exceptions.

Superheroes are not defined by settings, like cowboys or spacemen, or their profession, like detectives. They can’t be defined by superpowers (Batman), a mission statement, having secret identities (Fantastic Four, Tony Stark), being good people, or good at their jobs. The costume, the closest there is to a true, defining convention, still has a considerable share of exceptions like Jack Knight’s Starman, a great deal of the X-Men who do not wear uniforms, or most superheroes created outside the US. The most basic definition of superhero is of comic book characters with iconic costumes and enhanced abilities who fight villains in shared superhero universes, but even that falls short of exceptions by including characters who are not superheroes (John Constantine and other Vertigo characters, Jonah Hex, the Punisher). Some people would call Goku or Harry Potter or Lucky Luke or Monica’s Gang superheroes, Donald Duck has literally been one. “Character with a distinctive design and unusual talents who fights evil” includes virtually every fictional hero that’s ever achieved a modicum of popularity in a visual medium.

Even telling stories with super characters doesn’t mean you’re going to be writing a superhero story (Joker). Superheroes are not defined by settings and genres, but they can inhabit just about any of them you can imagine. Horror, westerns, gritty crime drama, historical reconstruction, romance, space adventure, war stories, surrealism stories. As Morrison put it, they aren’t so much a genre as they are “a special chilli pepper-like ingredient designed to energize other genres”, part of the reason why they colonized the entire blockbuster landscape.

Aviation became a thing in the war years, so they started producing en masse aviation pulps as a subgenre. Zeppelins became popular, so they had a short-lived zeppelin subgenre. Celebrities starred in their own magazines. The American pulps were different from the German pulps, or the Italian pulps, or the Canadian pulps. In China, wuxia arose at a similar time period and with similar themes and distribution. In Brazil, we have “folhetos”, short, poetic, extremely cheap prose often written about romantic heroes and “cangaçeiros”, the closest local equivalent to the American cowboys. In Japan, “light novels” began life as pulp fiction, distributed in exactly the same format and literally sold as such. Pulp fiction has long outlived any and all attempts to define it as 30s literary fiction only.

Likewise, “pulp” and “pulp heroes” are terms employed very, very loosely. Characters like The Shadow and Doc Savage arrived quite late in the history of pulp fiction. You had characters like Jimmie Dale, Bulldog Drummond, Tarzan, Conan, a billion non-descript trenchcoat guys, and before those the likes of Nick Carter and Sexton Blake, dime novel detectives who made the jump to pulp. You had your hero pulps, villain pulps, adventure pulps, romance pulps, horror pulps, weird menace pulps. Science fiction, planetary romance, roman-era adventures, lost race adventures, anything that publishers could sell was turned into pulp stories starring, what else, pulp heroes.

How do you make sense of it all?

The main difference to consider is the mediums they were made for.

Pulp heroes were made for literature, superheroes were made for comic books.

Superheroes NEED to pop out visually, to have bold and flashy and striking designs, because comic books are visual stories first and foremost, who live and die on having attractive, catching character designs and the promise of an entertaining story with them. Pulp heroes, in turn, can often just be ordinary dudes and dudettes and anything in between in trenchcoats or evening wear or furry underwear, or masters of disguise rarely identifiable, because the only thing that needs to visually striking at first glance in a pulp magazine is the cover, so your imagination can get ready to do the rest. Smoking guns, bloody daggers, a romantic embrace, monsters hunched over ladies in peril, incendiary escapes. The characters can look like and be literally anything.

Comic books are a sequential art form where art and writing come together to tell a story, and every illustration must serve the story and vice-versa. It needs to give you an incentive to keep being visually invested in whatever’s going on. Pulp literature stays dead on the page unless animated by your expectations; you may have the illusion of submitting to an experience, but really it’s you expending your imagination to otherwise inert signals. You have to provide the colors and flashy sequences and great meaning yourself, and as a trade, you get much more text to work with in novels than you do in comic books, where the dialogue and narration are fundamentally secondary to the visual, whether it’s a superhero punching stars or a monster covered in blood.

Each art form has its strengths and weaknesses, of course, which are only accentuated when each tries to be of a different kind. There's been pulp heroes that tried making the jump to comics, and comic heroes that made the jump to literature. There’s good, even great examples, of both, but even at their best, there's always some incongruity, because that's not the medium these characters were made for.

Superheroes are characters defined by being extraordinary. The pulp heroes are too, in many cases, distinguished from their literary antecessors because they were too uncanny and weird, a middleground between the folklore/fairy tale heroes and the grounded detective and adventure characters such as Sherlock, and the later far out superheroes. But they don’t necessarily have to be extraordinary. Sometimes they can very well just be completely ordinary characters, caught in bizarre circumstances and managing them as best they can, or simply using skills available to anyone who puts in effort to do good. Often enough the extraordinary comes in the form of a bizarre villain, or a tangled conspiracy, a monster from outside the world, a unique time period. The extraordinary is there, but it doesn’t have to be in the hero.

That is, I’d argue, the other big fundamental difference between the two. "Superhero” is a name we use to define a type of character who fits an extraordinary mold, a Super Hero. It’s a genre, it can be every genre, it’s a shared universe and a stand-alone epic. There are guidelines, structures at work here. Grids, page count, illustrators. The Big Two and their domain over the concept. Academic usage of the term, standards that rule the “genre”, when it is defined as a genre. Malleable and overpowering and adaptable and timeless as the superhero may be, it’s still bound by a certain set of rules and trends.

The term “pulp hero” is a term that we use to label just about any character that happens to star in something we recognize as “pulp fiction”, even if it isn’t literally written in pulp, even if it’s decades later. It’s a “metaphor with no brakes in it”. Superheroes can be pulp heroes. The most powerless, unlucky, homeless bum can be a pulp hero, there were entire subgenres of pulp stories based on homeless protagonists or talltale stories told in bars. The cruelest villain can be a pulp hero. Boris Karloff about to stab you with a knife named Ike IS a pulp hero, and so is a space slug on a warpath (look up what happened when Lovecraft and R.E Howard collaborated).

As much as I may dislike the idea of pulp heroes largely only existing in the shadow of superheroes nowadays...that is kinda appropriate, isn’t it? Of course they are going to live and make their homes in the place where the sun doesn’t shine. Where Superman and co would never go to.

Of course the 90s reboots of these characters failed. Because they tried turning these characters into superheroes, and they are not superheroes. They can visit those world, but they don’t belong in them, or anywhere else. They live in places where the light doesn’t touch, worlds much bigger and darker and more vast than you’d ever think at first glance, worlds that we still haven’t fully discovered (over 38% of American pulps no longer exist, 14% survive in less than five scattered copies, to say nothing of all pulps and pulp heroes outside of America). Not lesser, not gone, despite having every reason to. Just different, reborn time and time again. The shadow opposites.

In short: One is represented by Superman. The other is represented by The Shadow. There are worlds far beyond those two, but when you think of the concepts, those are the ones that things always seem to come back to.

#pulp heroes #pulp fiction #pulp art #pulp essays #comic rambles #superheroes #the shadow #superman

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wweassets · 2 years

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So I’ve been working on my fantasy “sexy Halloween costume contest” for the guys like they used to do with the Divas lol... Here are the entrants! You need to pick 1st, 2nd, and 3rd place winners. Everybody play along and submit your responses!

Roman Reigns as Shao Kahn in Mortal Kombat: skull helmet, shoulder pads, tiny gladiator briefs below.

LA Knight in red devil ears, pitchfork, and red jockstrap.

Johnny Gargano as Tom Cruise in “Risky Business” with his white underwear briefs and button-down shirt

Bron Breakker body-painted as Thing from Fantastic Four, in denim booty-cut shorts

Adam Cole as HBK from his Playgirl magazine cover, wet and naked in a towel strategically lowered

Hangman Page in cowboy hat, leather vest and chaps, in a thong

Drew McIntyre comes out in his kilt, but once he gets into the ring he quickly flashes the audience his bare ass to reveal that he’s not wearing anything underneath

Austin Theory painted silver and dressed like Colossus from X-Men in red briefs

Seth Rollins as Brutus “The Barber” Beefcake from the 80’s, with his see-through tights

MJF walks to the ring cutting a heel promo saying he’s too good to be a part of such a stupid contest, so instead he’s just gonna be himself, completely naked except he’s covering his dick with his Burberry scarf, his fat ass out and bouncing as he walks down the ramp.

Jinder Mahal body-painted as a tiger, wearing briefs that match his stripes

Angel Garza dressed as an angel, with a halo, wings, and white jockstrap

The Creed Brothers wearing their singlets but with the asses cut out. Chad Gable comes out immediately after with the same costume and his ass out too, and after they argue, they brawl to the back.

Bobby Lashley as Jax from Mortal Kombat, his arms painted silver and wearing purple briefs

Dolph Ziggler as a Baywatch lifeguard in a red speedo

Johnny Drip Drip comes into the ring in white boxer briefs, then asks referee Jessika Carr to spray him with the Drip Stick. She gets him soaked, and he’s proudly showing off his dick and ass in his wet underwear that’s now basically see-through

Madcap/Riddick Moss in his suspenders and tiny little khaki shorts, but his ass can barely fit in them so he ends up ripping them at one of the seams when he gets into the ring

Ilja Dragunov as a sexy vampire, black cape and black jockstrap

Mace and T-Bar dressed and painted as Demolition, with black leather jockstraps and spikes

Mustafa Ali recreates his pharaoh look from Crown Jewel, only this time in a gold briefs

Randy Orton body-painted as a viper, snake contact lenses and wearing black briefs

Bobby Roode comes out in his old blue sequin Glorious robe and when he gets in the ring, opens it to reveal a blue sequin jockstrap

Rick Boogs in his suspenders but wearing nothing underneath, loose, unbuttoned and baggy enough to reveal the upper half of his ass

Ricochet comes out to Sable’s old music and wearing a robe. When he gets into the ring, he takes it off to reveal a black jockstrap, and turns around to show black sequin handprints painted on both of his butt cheeks just like Sable did with her tits

Not to be outdone, Finn Balor comes to the ring in a black robe, and reveals that he’s only wearing bubble wrap around his waste like the Kat did in the Royal Rumble bikini contest

With all the contestants in the ring, the camera pans across to show all of the costumes again, with guys playing to the crowd to get the most applause.

Who are your 3 winners?

WAIT CUZ YOU PUT IN THE DETAILS?? omfg this is THOUGHT OUT and amazing and wow UMMm

literally they're all so FUCKING HOT IDK HOW TO PICK UMMMM

but my top 3 rn would beeeeeeee

adam cole, ricochet and mustafa (the winner yup yup)

but dear LORD theese are all so hot omfg so many choices...

JOIN US everyone x

#ask

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ilovedainironfoot · 3 years

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JEALOUSY PART 5

Pairing : Jedediah x Octavius

Plot summary : Octavius tells the whole truth

Warnings : slight mention of : toxic relationship, emotional blackmail, violence and abuse of power

It was a joyous chaos. Teddy, Akh, Lancelot, Larry and his son Nick were finishing setting up all the cushions/chairs/armchairs in the hall so that everyone could settle in. All the miniature figurines were set up on the reception desk, all around the video projector. Popcorn, candy, cakes, blankets were distributed. For the little Romans and cowboys, Larry gave them tiny blankets and doll cushions to make them as comfortable as possible. For that evening, Attila chose the film: Jurassic Park.

Octavius and Jedediah liked these movie nights but the cowboy was unable to stay in place and moved every 5 minutes. There was nothing he could do about it and fortunately for him Octavius didn't mind.

He always started in the same way : First he would put his head on his lover's shoulder, then finally he would lie down on his darling's thighs while the Roman stroked his blond hair. After ten minutes he would change places again and sit behind the general, sticking the Roman against his chest. Usually after an hour Octavius would wrap his arm around Jedediah's shoulder, taking the opportunity to cover his forehead with kisses, curling him against his chest, and only then the cowboy would not move, his belly full of butterflies and red cheeks.

And Jedediah was always trying to get rid of the redness in his cheeks by stuffing himself with popcorn.

But that night was different.

In the end it was Jedediah who, seeing that Octavius was not paying attention to the film or the usual cuddling, wrapped his arm around his shoulder and hugged his sweetheart against him.

But there again he could not stop moving. His arm descended gently down the Roman's flank, caressing his armor. He knew that Octavius could feel his fingers and little by little he felt his lover relax, who caressed his hand tenderly in return. Every now and then Jed would slip a kiss on his forehead, looking forward to the moment when he could question him. In spite of everything he felt that all of Octavius' concentration was on something else. He saw the two Romans from last night casting impatient glances in the corner and then suddenly fade and look away like condemned men.

Looks like Octy spotted them too.

"They came to talk to you, didn't they ? »

“Yes, they begged me to make you spill the beans about Cunus." »

“It’s Caenus.” Octavius sighed “I should have known. I haven't been very tender with them these last few nights. »

“They made it clear to me. So, are you finally going to tell me what's bothering you about this Cunus?“

Octavius smiled and tenderly kissed the cowboy's hand :“It’s Caenus. Not now, after the movie, maybe. For now I want to enjoy this moment with you.”

When the film finally ended and everyone left, leaving only the two of them on the desk, wrapped in the blanket, Jed was playing with his hat, more or less patiently waiting for Octavius' revelation, but the Roman's silence made him think that he was going to have to force it out of him.

« Octy.."

"I don't know where to start at all.” Octavius confessed, preventing the cowboy from finishing his sentence. The general disengaged from his lover's embrace and again began to play nervously with his helmet, refusing eye contact with Jed.

“If you agree with the idea, we can start with this?" suggested Jedediah and he took his boyfriend's face in his hands and kissed him gently.

He didn't know what else to do! How could he comfort Octavius if he didn't know what was going on? He could see that something was frightening him and Jed was beginning to fear that Octavius was afraid of his reaction! He didn't know how to reassure him so he hoped his kiss would. He felt his darling's tense body, his surprise so he cut the kiss short and whispered, embarrassed : "Sorry. I don't know what's happening to you, okay, I don't know what you have to say to me, I don't know why you don't want me to know what happened with the coyote...I..just..I mean...I love you and I want you to know that I'm here and I support you no matter what you have to say to me. »

Octavius smiled and they kissed again. For a long, long time. When they finally stopped, both were tomato red: "Do you feel better? » "A little. » "Should we kiss again?"

Octavius' face closed, suddenly serious and grave, anxious. He cleared his throat, coughed a little, ran a hand through his brown hair, and as best he could began to tell: “The thing you need to know, it's been since Larry told us about the newcomers, I must tell you. In fact I should have told you that night but... »

He took a deep breath before he let go: "When I told you that Caenus and I weren't friends...it wasn't a lie, but it wasn't the whole truth either. »

An ex. He is an ex. I guessed right.

"We were together."

Jed didn't wait and spoke hastily: "You know, I had guessed a little, even though I should have guessed earlier. If it's because of my jealousy you don't have to worry. I can't blame you for being handsome, smart, funny, loyal, trustworthy and everything and that someone might fall for you. Besides, I've had my share of conquests before you, too."

He had never been so honest about what he thought of Octavius and he was crawfish red.

"That's not the only thing I have to confess about him," mumbled the Roman.

"Oh. Okay, I'm listening."

“To sum up...he was...an asshole.”

Did Octy just say asshole?

“Asshole ?”

“Yes. Basically.”

“Why ?”

“At the very beginning, everything was going well between us. Sure, sometimes he could be a little possessive, but that didn't alarm me. By Jupiter it's been so many years since I've forgotten him that the fact that he's coming back doesn't bring up very good memories in my mind. »

“It’s ok ! Take your time !”

“He started to get jealous more and more often. Telling me that he didn't like one of my soldiers.That he didn't like seeing me talking with this centurion. The fights started from there. I am a general, it is difficult for me not to be in the presence of my legionnaires. He finally calmed down and then weeks later I discovered that he had threatened several of my officers.“

“Threatened? But why?“

“He was convinced that they wanted to destroy our relationship.We talked a lot about it, I'll pass on the details, but he ended up forbidding me to be in the presence of anyone without him, to go anywhere without him, to talk to anyone if he wasn't there.”

“He has the reasoning of a lizard at the end of its life!"

“It wasn't all the time! When he wasn't in his jealous episodes, he was adorable. He became again the man I had fallen in love with. Everything was going well again. I repeat, but our arguments were rare at the beginning and then little by little they happened more and more often. But I didn't realize it...well, I didn't want to realize it, mostly. Then one day he became violent."

Jed's heart, already well-packed with his boyfriend's confession, missed a beat and turned pale.

He hit Octavius? Ok I know that he knows how to fight, I faced him, we hit each other, but when it happens in couple, it's not the same thing at all !

“Not me." Octavius reassured him, smiling sadly, "He never hit me. Not even during training. I can't tell you what would have happened if he had. He was attacking my legionnaires. He took all his frustration out on them and then blamed their injuries on me...by implying it. Too many times I have had to rescue one of my men. After that, he would either calm down for several months or terrible arguments would ensue. No one could stand it anymore. We didn't know when he could explode. It was a liberation when we were transferred here.”

“How long did it last?”

“Many years. I don't really want to remember it. “

“And Lucius and Marcus ?”

“"He wasn't picking on them, he was equal to them in rank, it would have been a betrayal."

“They never intervened?“

"Yes, they did. But I stopped them, I thought it was up to me to make things right. I separated from him a few days before my departure, we didn't even know that we would be transferred here, it was a total surprise, and confusion too. “

"He didn't accept the separation very easily, did he?"

"No."

"You're afraid he's going to do it here again ? »

"I am especially afraid for you. Knowing that I have someone else and that I don't intend to go back to him...I know he's going to try to hurt you. »

"I know how to fight, honey, I've had my fill of saloon fights.. »

"I know, but believe me, he's dangerous. »

Jedediah pulled him gently towards him for another kiss: “"We will face him together, as with Kahmunrah. »

“I know. But I still fear for you.”

Octavius smiled, a real smile, and huddled again against his lover's chest.

“There is one last thing you need to know.”

“Okay.”

“You reminded me of him at the beginning of our relationship.”

“I...what ? Say that again?“

It would never have occurred to him to forbid Octavius to talk to anyone! He was certainly jealous, but he would never have tried to hurt anyone, especially Octy !

"Your jealousy towards Lancelot reminded me of his behavior and for several days I wondered...if I wasn't repeating the same stupidity with you as I did with Caenus.” He caressed Jedediah's cheek before kissing him: “"Fortunately you quickly proved me wrong."

Jed sighed with relief and hugged his boyfriend even more : “ i will protect you from him.”

“I will do the same.”

END OF PART 5 :D

Okay, then I would like to clarify that I have tried my best to describe a toxic relationship. I know that there are things that I have not described well in what Octavius experienced. If there is anything that has been misspoken, misdescribed, awkward, don't hesitate to tell me. So I could correct and not make the same mistakes anymore :)

#jedtavius #fanfic #night at the museum #my thing

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mypoisonedvine · 3 years

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What about cowboy x reader x Roman 👀👀👀 watch out for the next sleepover love I’m coming through with this

UMMM LISTEN... MAYBE

I can't write for a tiny cowboy man I can't 😭

...or can I? 🤔

no, no, I can't.

but if I did, hypothetically, the reader would also be tiny ksdjghksdjghsd

#this makes me extra glad there's no sleepover this weekend so I have time to process the possibility of this emotionally

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pixie-mage · 4 years

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I don't know if i was supposed to send two characters for the same writing prompt but i'll try this since Rexy needs some love. 9 -L !

From this NatM Writing Prompt: [ x ]

(Either way works! We all love our Puppy-saurus Rex! ^^)

Characters: Rexy Adjectives: Lonely

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

From near his usual perch in the lobby, the skeleton of a tyrannosaurus rex watched from empty sockets as the museum’s night guard came tearing out of an archway on the right, being quickly pursued by a younger teen.

“You got the keys, right Nick?” the guard asked.

“Of course I did,” the teenager replied, rolling his eyes. “The only person Dexter plays ‘keep away’ with is you, Dad.”

“A simple ‘yes’ would have been fine, Nicky.”

The guard - Larry Daley - came skidding to a stop in front of the circular desk at the lobby’s center, slipping behind it and digging through a bag he had stowed there. He pulled out a single hockey glove and a goalie blocker, shaking his head in irritation as he did so.

“I thought the Mayans were past this,” he muttered. “They were behaving so well this week. And then this–”

Rexy approached Larry and Nick with his tail wagging, his bone already held tight in his teeth. He made a little whining noise in the back of his throat and bent down, looking to all the world like he wanted to play. He dropped the bone at Nick’s feet.

“Not now, Rexy,” Larry said, sounding distracted. He barely spared Rexy half a glance as he tugged on the glove, then tossed the bag to his son Nick.

There was a whirring as a small remote-controlled car sped into view from an archway on the left, through which sat the Hall of Miniatures.

“Get gaited, Laredo!” a small southern voice piped up from inside the car. “We’ve got a hell of a hootenanny goin’ on between the two halves of the hall. Them Mayans ‘re fightin’ like kilkenny cats. We had about twenty men downed by poisoned dart last I checked.”

“Tweny-four, to be exact,” a second voice spoke up, a miniature Roman General. “My men are diligent and our shields may be strong but the Mayans are an unpredictable adversary. Much like the Americans when we first were at war.”

There was a fondness in the last phrase. Not that Rexy noticed or cared, but it was there all the same.

“Now don’t you get sappy on me, ‘Tavius,” the cowboy scolded. “Keep yer head on straight. We’ve gotta get them Mayan boys under control ‘fore all hell breaks loose.”

“It already has, Jedediah,” Octavius said. There was a muffled thump from inside the car, followed by an “Ow!” from the centurion.

“Guys!”

The two miniatures stopped bickering, staring up through the tiny windshield of the car to meet Larry’s disbelieving eyes.

“Seriously?! Mayans. Bigger problem.”

“Of course, my liege.”

“You got it Gigantor.”

“Alright.” Larry nodded. “Nick and I will try and get as many of them back into Guatemala as we can. You two just - get your people to try and push them back.”

“Am I locking them up or are you?” Nick asked, already wearing a hockey glove and a blocker like his father.

“Uh–” Larry thought for a moment. “You. Better you than me, in case Dexter decides to show up for a round two.”

Nick giggled.

The remote-controlled car whirred back into motion, and the familiar noise made Rexy’s head perk up. Oh! He knew this game! He picked up his bone again and brought it over to the tiny car, tail wagging all the while. Play? Chase?

“No can do, Rexasaurus,” Jed shook his head. “We’ve got a group o’ crazy tribesmen to wrangle.”

Rexy whimpered, head tilting to the side.

“Not now, Rexy,” Larry reaffirmed, this time looking Rexy right in the eye sockets. “Later. Okay? We’re kind of busy right now.”

Rexy whined, but the group was clearly focussed on a much more important task. Larry and Nick took off into the Hall of Miniatures with the miniature car speeding after them as quickly as it could go.

The lobby fell silent.

Rexy’s tail drooped against the ground.

The dinosaur whimpered into the empty room, nobody around to hear his lonely plea. He just wanted to play. Lately, things in the museum had been so busy that Larry was always being pulled to every corner of the building...and Nick often spent more time with the huns or Ahkmenrah than he did anywhere else. Plus Jedediah and Octavius were most often seen together rather than apart, and though this used to mean they’d be happy to spend some time driving around the museum dragging a bone while their local Tyrannosaurus chased after them, it had become rather difficult to find them as of late. It had become rather difficult to find anyone to play with as of late.

And as for the rest of the museum...well. Rexy whimpered again and put his rib back where it belonged, circling the spot he stood a few times and settling onto the ground. He tucked in his tail and let out a deep sigh.

Many of the other museum occupants were still too afraid to get close to him.

With that sad little thought, Rexy found himself dozing off into a light sleep in the center of the museum lobby, completely oblivious to the smiling faces that were watching him from a distance.

“He is asleep, I think.”

“So he is. This may be easier than we first thought, my dear.”

Creeping down the stairs on soft feet, Sacagawea motioned for Teddy to stay quiet and stay where he was. She approached the snoozing dinosaur and smiled adoringly once she was close enough to see that he was, indeed, fully asleep. She nodded up toward the balcony above where Teddy stood waiting. The former president was quick to join her in the lobby.

“I will go find the others,” Sacagawea informed him. “Could you seek out Larry and Nick? The Mayans were not part of the plan tonight, but I imagine they will be finished soon.”

“Of course my dear.”

Teddy took her hand, pressed a kiss to her fingers, and swiftly followed the path their night guard had taken a few minutes prior. Sacagawea smiled softly to herself. If given the choice, she would gladly indulge herself in spending more time with her love rather than send him off on a mission...but today was significant. She had a more important task to handle. With one last glance toward the sleeping tyrannosaurus, she vanished back up the stairs and down the hall.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Rexy awoke slowly an hour or so later. His tail quivered as he stretched, huffing a breath out his nose and yawning widely, his massive teeth bared for all to see. He thought, for a moment, he might still be sleeping...because the lobby was terribly dark. It was difficult to see, and as the dino got back to his feet, he was careful not to move too much lest he trip in the dark...or worse, accidentally step on a friend. What was going on? Where was everyone? Why were the lights off? Rexy made a rumbling, questioning noise in the back of his throat, confused and curious.

“Ready?” a quiet, familiar voice whispered from somewhere to Rexy’s left. He turned his head, trying to find its owner. “Okay...3...2...1…”

“SURPRISE!”

Lights flared to life throughout the museum, the sound of switches being flipped completely drowned out by the sea of joyous voices that had filled the air. Rexy took a step back, surprised and startled, trying to understand what he was seeing.

Everyone was here. Everyone. Larry and Nick stood by the front desk, Larry with one hand still lingering near the light switches. A sea of miniatures covered the desk’s surface. The huns were grouped off to one side near the eskimos, the cavemen were all making excited noises somewhere near the back of the crowd, and vikings, statues, civil war soldiers, and more were mixed among the rest of the museum’s inhabitants. A select few animals had been let loose to join them, Dexter among them, and Sacagawea and Teddy were standing side by side near the front of the crowd. Ahkmenrah was leaning back against the desk, and when things began to settle, he murmured something in an undertone to Larry behind him.

Larry nodded. He abandoned the desk and made his way through the crowd, a paper bag in his hand, a beaming grin splitting his face.

“Happy Birthday, Rexy!” he announced, drawing another round of excited cheering from the gathered crowd. Larry’s expression was bright and warm and excited, and when he finally reached Rexy he held up a hand to pet the dinosaur’s nose. Rexy leaned into it, more than a little happy to be on the receiving end of the night guard’s affections after so long of going without it.

Not that a few weeks was that long in the grand scheme of things, but it certainly felt like ages to the puppy-like tyrannosaurus. A rumbling noise started up in the back of his nonexistent throat and he leaned down to nuzzle his skull against Larry’s chest, his tail wagging happily behind him.

“I know we don’t know your real birthday,” Larry went on, scratching along Rexy’s jaw, “but I figured the day you arrived at the museum was as close as we were gonna get. One hundred years ago today. Can you believe that?”

Rexy leaned into the scratches, making happy little noises all the while, and Larry chuckled to himself.

“Ya like that big guy?” he smiled. “Heh. Hang on, I’ve got a present for you.”

Present? Present! Rexy sniffed at the bag in Larry’s hand when the guard held it up, eager to see what was inside. Present. For him? Really?

“Yeah buddy! That’s for you!” Larry said. Rexy nipped at the bag and Larry pulled it out of his reach, chuckling. “Hang on! Hang on, Rexy. Let me get it out first!”

Larry reached into the bag and pulled out what looked like the biggest dog bone in the world. It would be huge for most dogs, but for Rexy? It was perfect. The dinosaur crouched where he stood, in full play mode, his tag wagging wildly behind him. The onlookers grinned and giggled and laughed at his antics. Larry glanced back over his shoulder at them, his eyes sparkling. He returned his focus to the overeager puppy-saur in front of him.

“I know, you’re excited,” he nodded, holding up the bone with some effort. “But here’s the thing. I can give this to you now–”

Rexy made little rumbling noises at the prospect, dancing a little on the spot.

“–or! Hang on, buddy.” Larry stifled another laugh. “Or we can see what everybody else got you. Okay? There’s more presents from everyone, not just this one.”

Rexy looked torn. Play with bone, or get more toys. Bone. More toys. Bone now. Bone later? Toys now...toys later…

It was a very difficult decision.

Until the remote-controlled car came speeding into view.

“Hey! Rexy!”

Jed was practically hanging out the window of the car, waving his hat to get the dinosaur’s attention.

“Hey there big fella!” he called, grinning ear to ear. “Guess what we’ve got!”

The car raced past, driving straight between the dino and the night guard, and it was only then that Rexy’s attention was caught by the colorful toy being dragged by the car. It wasn’t as big as the bone Larry had gotten him, nor was it even a bone at all, but it was eye-catching and made jingling noises as it was dragged along, the colorful ball rolling and bouncing slightly in the wake of the car it was attached to.

Rexy was off and on the chase before Larry knew it, and he - along with the others at the very front of the crowd - had to duck to avoid the swing of the dinosaur’s tail.

Larry grinned.

“Rexy looks exceedingly happy, Larry,” a warm voice appeared at Larry’s side. “I think this party is already a raging success and it has barely begun.”

“He does look happy,” Larry agreed. He turned to smile at Ahkmenrah, who had come to stand beside him and watch the oversized puppy play chase through the lobby and front halls of the museum. “Thanks for the idea.”

“You would have thought of it yourself eventually,” Ahk inclined his head toward the ‘guardian’, smiling all the while. “You are rather creative yourself, and you care greatly for everyone here. It would have crossed your mind at some point I’m sure.”

“Still,” Larry shrugged, pocketing his hands and turning back toward Rexy. “He’s been so down lately. Thanks for the help.”

“You are more than welcome.”

“Dad! Dad! Dad!” Nick came up behind Larry, tugging on his arm. “Can I get Rexy’s new ball out? I think the car needs to recharge soon and–”

“You don’t need to give me a reason.” Larry shook his head with a smile and pointed toward the desk. “It should be back there with the other gifts. Just - try not to let Rexy pop it on the first night. If we can get it to last a week at least I’ll be happy.”

“Sure!”

Then Nick was gone, digging through the gifts with abandon. Somewhere in the distance, a whoop and a holler rang through the air alongside a shout of “ONWARD!” as a tiny car drove whiplashing circles around the giant dinosaur looming overhead.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

The night had gone about as well as Larry and Nick had hoped. The ball Nick had sought out earlier was, surprisingly, still in one piece. The exhibits had had a fun time playing some form of “keep away” with Rexy, the ball bouncing and soaring back and forth over the crowd while Rexy tried to snatch it out of the air. Attila and his men had played tug-of-war with the dino at some point, the sturdy rope they had been using now shredded and sitting in a pile on the desk. Nick and Ahk had taken a few turns riding on the dinosaur’s back, much to the enjoyment of all involved. An oversized plush toy sat in Larry’s lap (courtesy of Sacagawea and the civil war soldiers) looking a little chewed on, but mostly still in one piece. He was leaning back against the wall at the back of the lobby, past the stairs, and Rexy was curled up nearby. He was gnawing happily on the bone from the beginning of the evening.

There was about an hour left until dawn, and some of the exhibits had already begun making their way back toward their displays. Teddy and Sacagawea were organizing a small group to help clean up the remnants of the party...and Larry would join them soon too. But first…

Larry reached over, rubbing his knuckles against Rexy’s nose. The dino leaned into the affection, a happy rumble bubbling up from somewhere near his chest.

“Did you have a fun birthday, buddy?” Larry asked. Rexy’s tail thumped loudly against the floor a few times, and Larry smiled. “I’ll take that as a yes.”

The guard sighed softly. His smile faded.

“I’m sorry I haven’t been paying attention to you,” he said quietly. “I could just say that it’s because the museum has been more...lively than usual lately, but that’s no excuse to make you sad.” Rexy lifted his head, tilting it in question. “I know you’ve been kind of lonely lately, and I’m sorry. Some of the other exhibits noticed and told me about it. I’m sorry that I didn’t see it myself. Nobody should ever feel forgotten, alright? That’s - ya know. That’s Friendship 101, and I’ve been kind of a bad friend. Haven’t I?”

Rexy whined softly and nuzzled Larry’s head as gently as he could. The night guard smiled weakly and held up a hand to pat the end of the puppy-saur’s nose.

“It’s nice of you to forgive me, but...still.” Larry was quiet for a moment. Then– “I know I can’t always have time to play with you, same with Nick. I have a job to do and he’s my backup when things get hairy. But I’m gonna try to be better. And…”

He looked thoughtful, as if trying to decide if he should say anything or not.

“...and I know we keep other dinosaurs locked away in the B-wing. I’ll talk to McPhee and see if we can’t get you a friend on display out here, so you have someone to play with. Okay?”

Rexy panted happily and his tail whipped back and forth along the floor, thwacking the walls on either side in his exuberance.

“Okay, okay!” Larry laughed. “Calm down, buddy. I said I’d talk to McPhee, but it’s up to him. No promises! But I’ll try. Alright?”

Rexy bumped his nose against Larry’s shoulder, then flopped his head down right up against the night guard’s crossed legs.

“I’ll take that as a yes.”

When the sun rose later that early morning, and when the first few guests began to filter in through the museum’s front doors, McPhee swore the sharp-toothed smile the tyrannosaurus wore was wider than it had ever been before. But surely it was a trick of the morning light...right?

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

[A/N: This was a lot of fun to write! I haven’t written much in the NatM fandom yet, so this was a really fun practice...and we all know Rexy deserves all the love. Hope you enjoyed it!]

#Night at the Museum #NatM #NatM Writing Prompt #Night at the Museum Writing Prompt #Rexy #Larry Daley #Nick Daley #Ahkmenrah #Octavius #Jedediah #Jedtavius if you squint #Tablet Guardians if you squint #Sacagawea #Teddy Roosevelt #Pixiemage Writes #Writing #This was fun #Pixiemage Answers

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aldamiriel-necrococo · 3 years

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wow wtf it only lets you put in six letters how am I supposed to type "the tiny Roman x tiny cowboy from Night At The Museum"

#this time it stands for One Time Password apparently #I need a captcha asking me about my fan theories to verify I'm real #otp

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adrenaline-roulette · 4 years

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I am flesh and I am bone

Pairing: Ahkmenrah x Read (female) Word count: 7.5k + Warnings: None for this chapter!

Chapter One: Do you walk in the valley of kings

- Hi everyone! I would like to welcome you all to my first Ahky fic! For those who know me, I normally write for Queen and BohRhap cast, now with added 6 Underground! However This idea came to me out of no where a few weeks ago. I’ve been sitting on it for a while now, and after posting to see if anyone would be interested in reading what I had, I decided that I may as well share it! There will either be 2 or 3 chapters, depending on how things go! Huge shout out to @polarcrystall @seven-seas-of-ham-on-rhye @ryeosomnia @thenewnightguard @stfuchaase for letting me know that you wanted to read this! I hope it lives up to expectations! -

Exactly two weeks ago, you had brought home a permission slip for a class field trip your science and history teacher had organised, you had waved the form around in front of your mothers face, dancing around the kitchen as you begged her to sign it.

“Please Mom, you have to let me go! It’s the Museum of Natural History! Uncle Larry is always talking about how amazing the museum is!” You plead, eyes shining up at your grinning mother. Although you were still so young, everyone knew exactly where your interests lay, you had a gift for knowing everything there was to know about historical events. At only six, you could recite the exact date and time the Titanic both set sail, and ultimately sunk, and at seven you could name every British monarch in consecutive order. Those were considered your hobby histories though, as your parents had once said. Your one true historical love was that of Ancient Egypt. Perhaps it was due to the stunningly rich colours that were used to decorate the Pharaoh’s sarcophagus’, or maybe it was the sheer amounts of sparkling gold, you were young after all, and just like a bird, you were often attracted to shiny objects. No matter the reason, for close to two years of your life, you had learnt everything your little mind could fill itself with in relation to Ancient Egypt. Every book your tiny hands found in the library on the subject, you would check out for the week, if one of the librarians were to look through your borrowing history, they would find nothing but history books that were typically checked out by college students, and not by under ten year old’s.

As your Mom read through the form, she smiled wearily, before turning to face the kitchen counter, smoothing the paper over the flat surface. “Okay Y/N, of course you can go. But remember sweetheart, there are other exhibits to look at, and not just Ahkmenrah’s tomb.”

You nod your head obediently, though her words go in one ear, then out the other. Your uncle Larry had been the nightguard at the Museum of Natural History for close to three years now, and whenever you saw him, he would tell you stories of how amazing it was to work with all of those historical figures. You always loved it when he told you stories of the young Pharaoh, of course to the rest of your family, these were just that, stories, though to you they all sounded real, and to Larry, they were.

<<ooo>>

The night before your field trip you were beyond excited, finding yourself barely able to sleep, far too thrilled with the knowledge of where you would be the very next morning. Every ten minutes you would leap out of bed, turn on your bedside lamp, and start reading through one of your history books again, this one all about life of Ancient Egyptian slaves. Each time you would switch your light on, one of your parents would walk past your room, spot the small stream of light beneath the closed door, then storm in, taking the book from you before turning the light out once more. This happened all of thirteen times, until your father had warned that if you didn’t go to sleep, he wouldn’t let you go to the Museum. Soon enough, you found yourself slowly drifting off, and your parents found themselves no longer needing to stop you from reading.

When you woke the next morning, you got yourself dressed in record speed, throwing on your freshly washed uniform. The navy blue polo shirt was free from stains once again, though your Mom knew that it wouldn’t stay that way for long, and your pleated gray skirt had been crisply ironed. All that was left were your black school shoes, though you knew better than to put those on in the house, so instead you opted for skidding around the wooden floors in your white socks. As you sat on the sofa, eating a bowl of cereal and watching morning cartoons, your Dad bumbled out into the kitchen, yawning and stretching loudly. “Good morning sweetie.” He smiled, looking at you from over the back of the sofa. “You’re up very early!”

You turn around to look at him as he set about making breakfast for himself and your Mom. “I thought if I got ready early then you could take me to school earlier!”

“I can’t do that Y/N, no one will be at school this early. You’ll have to wait.” He smiled, watching as you slumped down on the sofa, sighing dramatically. With a chuckle, he finished making breakfast, leaving you to watch cartoons and grumble.

<<ooo>>

“Alright class, this is Mister Wright, he will be showing us around the museum today. Can we all say Good morning Mister Wright?” Your teacher, Miss Clarke called, gesturing to the tall, thin man who stood before your class of thirty. He wore wire framed classes, and a tweed jacket, from the eyes down he looked like your stereotypical scholar, however on top his head sat a flaming red mohawk, which added nearly an entire foot to his overall height.

“Good morning Mister Wright.” Chorused your class, smiling at the tall, funky looking man. He looked rather unsure of himself, it was likely that he wasn’t used to leading a tour group full of children. Gazing around the foyer where you stood you grinned to yourself, the spinning globe atop the main desk shone brightly in the large room, while the massive T-Rex skeleton served as a sneak peek for what you were all going to see further in the museum.

“Psst, Y/N, come on!” You friend Hailey giggled beside you, snapping you out of your trance. You just wanted to take as much in as possible, who knew when you would next be able to visit the museum? Quickly, the two of you ran to catch up with your class, who had moved on to taking a closer look at the T-Rex, Mister Wright going into detail about the life style, size, and speed of the dinosaur.

You listen intently the whole tour, finding your way to the front of your class, so to be as close to the exhibits as possible. Most of your class found the tour interesting, whilst some found it to be boring, how they found it boring you had no idea, you simply couldn’t fathom it! Here you were, standing amongst history! Nothing about this experience was boring in your opinion! “And here we conclude today’s tour, with Theodore, or Teddy Roosevelt, who served as our twenty-sixth president, and of course his horse Little Texas.”

Outrage flooded your senses, you knew who Teddy Roosevelt was, but that wasn’t what had you so worked up. “What do you mean this is the end?” You burst out, your hands balling into fists at your sides.

Mister Wright looks down at you in surprise, clearly not having expected any protests in today’s tour. “Miss Y/L/N! Where are your manners?” Miss Clarke admonishes, walking over to you with a stern look in her eyes.

“I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to be rude!” You sniff, your lower lip trembling as you try to fight off tears. “It’s just, do we not get to look at the Ancient Egyptian exhibits?” You mumble, staring down at your feet, not daring to look your teacher or the tour guide in the eye. For two weeks, all you had wanted to do was look through the Egyptian exhibitions, and here you were, being told that the tour was over without ever stepping foot near them?!

Your teacher and the tour guide pass a look between each other, no words are spoken, though an unspoken conversation takes place none the less. “It’s alright Y/N, I understand.” Miss Clarke smiles, causing you to look up at her. “We have plenty of time to look around ourselves now. Everyone, please find a buddy, and always stay together. We will meet back here in two hours, at two o’clock!”

Not needing to be told twice, your class quickly begins to pair off, giggling schoolgirls racing off in different directions of the Museum. A group of five of you remains stood in front of the model President. Yourself, Hailey, Claire, Amber and Belinda, all looking between each other with broad grins. The five of you all got along like peas in a pod, often spending weekends at each other’s homes, playing dress ups out in the garden. So of course, when faced with the option of either trying to break off into small groups, or sticking all together, you chose the latter.

The five of you ran off back the way you came, taking turns through different corridors and into rooms which had been missed entirely on the tour. “Hey Y/N, does your uncle move these little guys around when he’s at work?” Amber grins, beckoning you over to where she was stood, looking into the miniature Roman Empire diorama.

“I don’t think he would do that… Why?” You shrug, peering over the edge of the diorama, your eyes falling on what Amber was clearly talking about. In the mini Colosseum, up on one of the balconies, there stood a tiny Roman soldier, hands reaching out and planted firmly against the back of a blonde cowboy, who was clearly from the Wild West diorama next door. The cowboy was stood precariously on the ledge of the window, and it was obvious to anyone who saw, that the Roman was attempting to push the intruder off the building. “Uncle Larry wouldn’t have done! He loves history as much as I do!” You blanch, eyeing the odd scene one final time.

Shaking your head, you move on further through the museum, leaving your friends behind as you grow nearer a section of the museum which seemed uncharacteristically quiet. Looking down the long corridor, it was dimly lit, and oddly sparse, and unlike every other area you had visited so far, this hall seemed to not see many visitors, or at least not at the moment. As you walked further into the hall, you failed to notice the yellow caution tape which had fallen down from across the archway, making your way down the corridor, the smell of wet paint assaulted your nose as you grew closer to the end of the corridor, a large gate pulled across the floor to ceiling entrance, with only a small crack of an opening. Unaware to you, your friends hadn’t realised where you had gone, figuring as it was nearing the end of your free roam time, they assumed you must’ve left to return to your teacher. The four of them packing up their things, and leaving the miniatures exhibit, and in the process leaving you behind too.

As you grew nearer the massive room, a gasp escaped your lips realising what you had discovered, hidden away at the back of the museum. Just behind the gate stood two, twenty-foot Anubis statues one on the left and the other the right side of the room. You had read about Anubis, the jackal deity of the afterlife, a shrine to Anubis was placed in the tombs of Pharaoh’s to keep guard over them as they passed into the next world. In all your reading though, coming face to face with these enormous statues, nothing could have prepared you for the sheer height of them.

Crouching down, you crawl through the small gap in the gate, squeezing your tiny body through, until you were inside the tomb. Back at the other end of the corridor, a security guard takes note of the fallen caution tape, picking it up and reattaching it to the archway. The Tomb of Ahkmenrah was in the process of being renovated, and it wouldn’t do anyone any good to go down there at the moment. Of course you knew nothing about this, though even if you did, it likely wouldn’t have stopped you from entering either way.

<<ooo>>

Miss Clarke looked over the huddle of children before her, taking a head count to ensure all students were present and accounted for. As she moved her eyes from one end of the group to the other, a student who had been at the very front moved her way to the end. Normally this wouldn’t be an issue, however this little girl stood with her back to Miss Clarke, and from the back she was sporting the exact same back pack as yours, it of course didn’t help that the two of you also had the same hair colour. To Miss Clarke, she had thirty students just as she had started with, if she had recounted her students however, she would quickly notice she was missing one. Though with the knowledge that the coach was waiting for them out the front of the museum, she thought better than to count a second time, and ushered the students outside.

<<ooo>>

Gazing around the tomb, you easily lost track of time, had you been there for five minutes or five hours? You really had no idea, but seeing as no one had come to find you yet, you assumed there was still time left to look around. After taking in every detail of the Anubis statues, you moved further inside to look over the ornate lid of the sarcophagus which sat front and centre of the tomb. Delicate navy blue lines mixed in with deep burgundy’s, before making way for vibrant turquois, all intermingled with the rich gold that covered the entire coffin. Hieroglyphs were carved down the body, from what you had read, they were designed to allow the Pharaoh safe passage into the afterlife, prayers were also commonly inscribed too.

You found yourself hypnotised by the craftsmanship of the sarcophagus, and paid no attention to the sound of the gate being dragged back across the tomb, closing it off from the entrance entirely. Slowly, you moved away to look around more, you wanted to see as much as possible, and commit it all to memory, just on the off chance that you wouldn’t be able to come back again for a while. On the wall behind the Pharaoh was a shining slab of gold, the tablet of Ahkmenrah. Your uncle Larry had told you that the tablet was magic, though when you had asked him what it did, he shook his head with a smile, promising to show you one day.

Carefully, you moved around, being sure to not touch anything, ‘Look with your eyes Y/N’, you recall your Mom telling you when she took you to an art gallery once. So you did just that, drinking in everything with your eyes. A small yawn escaped your lips, and you suddenly realise that perhaps it was time to leave the exhibit, and join your class. Stepping carefully, you stop in front of the gate, you heart beating rapidly in your chest. Where there had been a child sized gap on your way in, the gate was somehow now closed, and try as you might, you could not get it to budge. You were trapped! “Help me!” You shriek as loudly as your lungs would allow. “Somebody please help me!” Your screams mix with tears as you cry, fright settling into your bones. You paused your cries for a few moments, waiting with a bated breath on the off chance you heard someone coming your way to rescue you. No such luck, you had no other choice but to continue calling out, praying that someone was still in the museum, or perhaps that Uncle Larry would be starting work soon, then he could rescue you!

Your voice grows hoarse and your throat hurts, and you find yourself unable to call out any longer. Slumping down to the ground, you curl your knees up to your chest and rest your forehead against them, wrapping your arms around yourself to bring some comfort back to the situation. Someone would notice you missing soon, if they hadn’t already. Your parents would be expecting to see you at home when they arrived back from work tonight, of course they would look for you, and they would find you soon too. With your head buried down, you didn’t see the bright light sweep across Ahkmenrah’s tablet, a bright white shine glossing across every line in the golden tablet. You did however, feel it, a breeze seemingly coming from nowhere rushing all around you, picking your hair up before dumping it back down over your back and shoulders. For a few seconds, it was as if everything in the museum was holding its breath, before sighing deeply, allowing all the stress that had been built up, to be let go of.

At first you think nothing of the strange sensation, making it out to be your imagination, though that all changes rapidly, when you hear what sounds to be concrete grinding against itself, before you feel the room tremble, a loud rumbling moving throughout the tomb. Slowly you lift your head up, tears still streaming down your cheeks, your eyes red and puffy from your sobbing. Craning your neck, you look up and up, until you come face to face with one of the Anubis statues, though something had changed, whereas before both statues had been looking dead ahead, they now had their heads faced directly at you. You’re too scared to breathe, afraid of what may happen if you do, before you have the chance to take action, both statues take a step towards you lifting their spears. A blood curdling scream erupts from your lungs, as you leap to your feet, flinging yourself towards the back of the tomb, throwing yourself behind the sarcophagus, the ceiling was lower there you had noticed earlier, and you hoped it was low enough for the statues to not be able to reach you. You curl up into yourself once again, your back pressed against the golden coffin, your entire body trembling with both fear and sobs.

A similar sound as before echoes from behind you, though it sounds far smoother and more practiced, perhaps it was the statues again? You’re too scared to look, curling in further against yourself, trying in vain to make yourself invisible. Behind you, the lid of the sarcophagus slowly glides off, a figure sitting upright and looking around his tomb.

<<ooo>>

His guards were on edge, why was that? Had something occurred as he was waking up? Ahkemnrah slowly moved his arms out in front of him, his shoulder blades popping once, before the discomfort alleviated itself. Turning to his left, he looked at the two statues, calling out to them in his native tongue. “Put away your weapons, there is no danger here!”

The two statues did as told, though they remained positioned directly before him, rather than returning to their rightful place at the entrance of his tomb. Ahk shook his head softly, brunette curls swaying slightly against his forehead, there was an oddsound emanating from his tomb, one he was rather unfamiliar with. With great care, he lifted himself out and onto the floor, his bare feet permanently calloused, even in reanimation. The smell of chemicals assaulted he newly regained senses, he could not wait until his wing of the museum had been restored, at least then the smell of fresh paint would no longer cling to everything in his tomb. Crystal blue eyes gaze around the tomb, as his ears listen out for the odd sound he had awoken to, it seemed to have ceased, at least for the time being, perhaps it was something to do with the work that the builders had been doing in the area lately? Ahk moves over to collect his peschent from its display pedestal, fitting it to his head once again, he may no longer be in Egypt but he was still Pharaoh here at the museum.

There it was again, that noise! Ahk pivots on his heel, looking back at his empty sarcophagus, he knew for a fact that there was nothing in there that could be making any sound, however, there was a small gap between it and the wall. Surely there was nothing there that could be making such a noise? Despite his unsureness, he makes his way around the end of the sarcophagus, gazing down the side against the wall. There, curled up in on herself was a small child, trembling and crying softly. His heart ached for the child, all alone and frightened, how had she gotten in here? Larry had told him there would be no visitors this way for a few weeks, with the entrance blocked off… He pushes his questions to the back of his mind, instead, he crouches down, smiling gently across at the girl, leaving a decent amount of distance between them, to avoid startling her further. “You are safe young one, no harm shall come to you now. What has happened?”

Your head flies up, turning to look directly at the man who had spoken, coming face to face with someone you had only ever seen artist impressions of in your books. Surely this was impossible, you couldn’t possibly be talking to Ahkmenrah? “I – I was here with school… The gate, I crawled through it to look around, but someone closed it! I can’t get out.”

Ahk nods softly, standing up slowly from his crouched position, extending his hand to you. He watches you carefully, a look of fear and adoration flickering across your eyes as you seem to contemplate whether you should take his hand or not. Gently, you reach up, your small hand clasping around his larger warm one. With ease, he pulls you to your feet, your clothes covered in dust from where you had been resting on the ground. “I am Ahkmenrah, Fourth King of the Fourth King, what is your name young one?”

Your words catch in your throat as you listen to the man before you introduce himself, he truly was the Pharaoh you had read about all of these years, the fourth Pharaoh of Egypt was holding your hand, waiting for your reply. Stuttering with nerves, you bow your head. “I’m Y/N Y/L/N, I’m ah…. I’m a student at Rose Hill elementary.”

“Ah, you are a scholar then Y/N?” Ahk asks softly, leading you out from your hiding place, and out into the main entrance of his tomb.

You shake your head wildly, the tears slowly drying from your cheeks, with no more threatening to spill either. “No, I mean not yet. I’m only seven.” Ahkmenrah stops suddenly, and you worry you had said something wrong, though you realise quickly that that is not the case. In a language you have never heard before, his voice echoes up to the Anubis statues, who continued to watch you intently. “Open the gate immediately, I must find Larry so he may return the young one to her family.”

The statues bow before their King, the ground shaking as they march over to the gate, arriving in only four paces, where it had taken you far longer. The metal gate shrieks in protest as the Anubis’ peel it away from its hinges, a loud snap echoing around the tomb and hall when the metal is yanked free from the wall. The statues take a step backwards, one holding the gate at its side, as if it would attempt to replace it on its hinges. Ahk moves forwards, his cape billowing behind him as he moves at a fast pace, his mind racing, trying to think of where Larry would be this early in his shift. What Ahk failed to realise, was that he was perhaps walking too quickly, his long legs carrying him down the corridor with ease, it wasn’t however, until he looked back to ensure that you were following, that he recognised the quick jog you had adopted in order to keep up. “My apologies Y/N, I did not mean to cause you to rush. Please, forgive me.”

You catch up quickly, though you’re glad to no longer be running, walking a much more pleasant mode of transport in your opinion. “It’s alright, I have little legs, it happens.” You shrug lightly, following once again as Ahkmenrah leads, this time at a slower meandering walk. You couldn’t help but find it unusual, surely a Pharaoh would never normally apologise to someone beneath him, even if you were a child. And dead or no, Ahkmenrah was still a Pharaoh…

As you reach the end of the long, paint filled corridor, you come across caution tape which had certainly not been there when you had entered earlier in the day. “I do not mean to pass judgment young one, but did you not notice this? It seems to be a rather vibrant colour, surely it would be difficult to miss.”

“It wasn’t there when I came down here! If it had been, then I wouldn’t have entered! I’m not stupid you know.” You may be young, but you weren’t dumb, you knew what caution tape meant, and you would never normally do something so reckless.

Ahk can’t help but grin, turning away from you before you can see his expression, for someone so young, you sure were quick with your words. He found it rather refreshing, to have someone speak so candidly with him, not caring that he was King. In his time, when he ruled, no one would dare accuse him of thinking they were stupid. Yet here was this child, a meagre girl of seven, who had no issue with calling him out. “Of course you are not stupid, I am glad you were unharmed in your expedition down here however.” Ahk offered in a gentle tone, moving through the museum.

Your eyes grow wide as you enter the miniature diorama room you had looked through with your friends earlier, people shouting could be heard from inside each diorama, along with a train puffing along its track. “They – They’re alive?” You gasp, head swimming with what you had always considered to be impossible.

Ahk looks back at you once again, his head tilted to the side gently, he was unused to people being surprised by the exhibits coming to life at dusk. Larry was of course aware of the late-night happenings of the Museum, as were his son Nick, and the docent Rebecca, who despite having finished her latest piece on Sacajawea often found her way back to the museum to spend her evening’s with Larry. You however had never experienced this before, and your shock was understandable. “Yes young one, from dusk till dawn with the magic of my Tablet, everything in this museum comes alive. Despite most being made of wax, they all behave just as they would if they were the real thing.”

Something that would likely to have had you killed for back in Ahkmenrah’s time, you interrupt his explanation, instead opting to race over to the ancient Roman diorama. “My friends and I were looking at this one today. Up on the Colosseum there was a Roman Soldier trying to push a cowboy off. My friend thought someone had set it up as a joke. But, they did that themselves?” You gasp out, looking over the diorama where the Roman soldiers were busy, seemingly forming an attack plan.

“Yes, I imagine that would have been Jedediah and Octavius. Mostly the two are able to put aside their differences and are close friends, however I believe there had been a misunderstanding between the two last night, it must not have been resolved before dawn rose.” Ahk explains, watching you carefully as you peer down into the diorama, your eyes shining like stars in amazement. He had not expected you to take to this as well as you were, from what Larry had told him, he had spent days attempting to wrap his head around the situation. Yet here you were, drinking it all in. “Come along Y/N, we must get you home. It is late, and I am positive your family will be frightened for your welfare.”

<<ooo>>

As you round yet another corner, you are stopped by none other than President Roosevelt and his steed. Ahkmenrah stands in front of you, obscuring you partially from him. “Good evening Ahk, I hope all is well? Who have we here, surely she isn’t a new exhibit?” Teddy grins, waving at you softly.

Ahkmenrah steps to the side, allowing you to be seen fully by the President now. “This is Y/L Y/L/N, she was separated from her school group today, and found her way into my tomb, we are on our way to get her home.”

“Miss Y/L/N, it is a pleasure to meet you I’m Theodore Roosevelt, though most call me Teddy. It is wonderful to make your acquaintance.” Teddy smiles down at you, his eyes twinkling with mirth. Little Texas whinnies , stamping one leg impatiently. “I had best continue on my patrol. Have a wonderful evening both of you, I hope we will see you again Miss Y/L/N.” He tips his hat, before riding off, the clop of horse shoes could be heard for quite some time after wards, the tiled floor doing nothing to muffle the sound.

After one final corridor, you find yourself back in the foyer of the museum, where your day had started. It felt so long ago now, but it really was only a few hours ago that you had arrived. The platform where the T-Rex had stood in the morning was now vacant, despite all you had seen during your walk with Ahkmenrah, you hadn’t expected even the dinosaur skeleton to come alive! You wondered where it could’ve run off to? “No, I haven’t seen her. I’m looking don’t worry, I promise if I see any sign of her I’ll call you immediately.” A familiar voice says from the reception desk, his back is facing you, but you would recognise him anywhere.

Just as he hangs up the phone, your voice calls from across the foyer. “Uncle Larry!” You shout, sprinting away from the Pharaoh, and living him in the dust. Larry does a 180° on the spot, his eyes blown wide as he sees you racing toward him, followed closely by a surprised looking Ahk.

“Y/N? My God, everyone’s worried sick about you!” Larry exclaims, bending down to his knees and wrapping his arms around you tightly.

You throw your arms around his neck, grinning from ear to ear, releasing a sigh you hadn’t known you were holding. Despite how kind Ahkmenrah had been to you, along with all those you had met throughout the museum, there was a wave of relief that washed over you as you found someone you knew. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to get lost, I’m sorry!” You whisper against his shoulder, feeling a shadow cast over the two of you now that Ahkmenrah had arrived.

Larry looks up, smiling at the Pharaoh. “How did you find her Ahk?”

“It seems as if the caution tape leading to my wing of the museum had fallen down. Y/N found the gate to my tomb slightly opened and entered. I would dare say while she was in there, one of the end of day guards came around to ensure everything was in its rightful place, and in doing so they closed the gate to my tomb, locking her in there with me until I awoke.” Ahk looked down at you, your check resting against Larry’s shoulder, the crease between your eyebrows disappearing as you once again felt safe. “How do you know Y/N, Larry?”

Larry carefully stands, picking you up and placing you on the black leather desk chair, where you quickly make yourself comfortable. “She’s my niece.” He smiles fondly, to which Ahk nods. “Thank you for keeping her safe. I knew she’d find her way to your exhibit one way or another, she’s rather obsessed with Ancient Egypt.” Larry chuckles, lowering his voice so only Ahk could hear him.

“That would certainly explain all of the questions she asked me. Though she found questions to ask the others also.”

“Oh God, the others! She’ll need therapy after tonight! She’s too young to have to understand all of this!” Larry gasps, a coughing fit taking him over as he sucks in too much air.

Ahk places his hand on the night guards’ shoulder, comforting him until he can once again breathe properly. “I do not think that will be necessary. Y/N did not seem to be afraid at all, perhaps from the Anubis in my tomb there was some slight fear, but aside from that, she got along rather well with everyone, and they all seemed quite fond of her too.”

Larry lifts his eyebrows in surprise, turning to look back at you over his shoulder. You were sitting cross legged on the large chair, your hand gripping the desk in front of you, and using it to propel yourself around in circles. “Really? That’s – Well that’s rather surprising…. Are you sure, maybe she’s in shock? This is a lot to take in.”

“I do not know for sure Larry, though I do know that she promised at least twelve different people that she would be back soon.” Ahk smiles, watching as you spin yourself too fast, the chair finally coming to a stop as your face grows pale. Slowly you take your hand away from the desk, deciding to take a break from spinning.

“Thank you Ahk, I’ll talk to her after all of this is over, see if she’s as okay as she seems to be. Would you mind just keeping an eye on her for a little bit longer? I need to call her parents back, let them know that we’ve found her.” Ahk smiles as he makes his way back to you, lifting himself up onto the desk beside you, as you spin in your chair to face him, your entire face lighting up with joy as you look at him.

As Larry calls your parents, reassuring them that you’re safe, you pick up your conversation with the Pharaoh once more. “Can I ask how old you are?” You grin, causing him the chuckle. He had grown fond of you over his short time with you, the inquisitive mind of a child had often intrigued him, and he found himself answering questions he would never usually.

“At the time of my passing, I was nineteen. Though if you count my age by the years I have experienced, then I am a few thousand years old.” He offers, allowing you to take your pick of which age you would rather associate him with.

You squint your eyes, counting on your fingers for a few moments, before beaming up at him. “So that means in twelve years, I’ll be the same age as you!”

Ahk can’t help but laugh, noticing Larry send you both a curious glance as he continues to speak with your family. “Technically you are correct. There will come a day where we are both nineteen.”

<<ooo>>

It didn’t take long before your Mom and Dad had arrived at the museum, Larry ushering you outside when he saw their car pull up out the front on the street. You waved goodbye to those who had gathered in the foyer to meet you, before turning to grin at Ahk. “Thank you Ahkmenrah.” It was plain and simple, but it was enough to cause the Pharaoh to grin widely at you. Larry followed you outside, opening the back door of the car for you, where you were instantly met with your parents gushing over how happy they were to see you, and that you were safe.

Moving away from the car as it drove off, Larry made his way back into the museum, locking the door behind him once again. Teddy rides up beside him, peering down at the exhausted expression on the night guards face. “Lawrence my friend, what’s that matter? Miss Y/L/N is on her way home now, surely that is good news?”

Larry nods his head yes, before it turns into a shake of no. “I think it’s going to be very hard to keep her away from here from now on.”

<<ooo>>

Just as Larry had predicted, it had been near impossible to keep you away from the Museum of Natural History. Since your first night there, all you could think about was returning, day in and day out you begged your parents to let you go back, though after the way your last trip there had gone, they were concerned about allowing you to return. This however didn’t stop you from pleading with them, coming up with every reason you could think of as to why you should be allowed to go back. Although you spoke about your time in the museum at night, you always said that it was just you, looking around at all of the exhibits, until you had found Uncle Larry. No one would believe you if you told them the truth about the museum, and you worried that if you did say something about what truly happened that night, that your parents would forbid you from returning there, and perhaps from speaking with Uncle Larry, he was after all, the one who always encouraged your love of history and fantastical stories at family gatherings.

After months of begging, pleading and bargaining your parents finally relented, allowing you to spend the weekend with Uncle Larry, under the pretext that you would be visiting the Museum during the day with Rebecca, and not while Larry was at work in the evenings. That of course, was not the case, not that your parent’s ever need know.

It soon became tradition, that you would spend one weekend a month with Larry and Rebecca, sometimes with Nicky too, depending if it was Larry’s week on or off with him. And for two nights each month, you would spend dusk to dawn with the museum exhibits, learning as much as was humanly possible from them, swapping stories, though yours were never as interesting as theirs, at least in your opinion.

However there was always one exhibit you spent the most time with, you’re not sure when it had started, but at some stage during one of your weekends there, you had found yourself waiting patiently inside Ahkmenrah’s tomb, drumming your fingers against your thighs as you sat cross legged in the middle of the room, just waiting for dusk to fall, and for the tablet to work its magic. The thrill of magic filling the air and the breeze flowing around you, as the soft glow of light worked its tendrils into the fabric of every being in the museum, was incredible, and something you found utterly amazing. From that day on, that was where you would always be found in the minutes before dusk, you would then spend plenty of time speaking with the Pharaoh, mostly about his life, as you learned what you could about Ancient Egypt. After a while, you moved on to others, never playing favourites with who you spent your time with, it was someone different each visit. When Larry and Teddy would come around, giving the call that there was one hour left until dawn, you would return to Ahkmenrah, and spend that final hour together, this time however, it was him asking the questions.

Ahk would never admit this aloud, but he found joy in waking up each night to you eagerly awaiting him, you grinning face being the first he saw on the days you were visiting. There was something comforting in having a familiar face to greet him when he woke, each morning he returned to nothing, there was no afterlife for him, at least not one he could recall. Each morning, as he fell asleep, there were no dreams to be had, no memories, there was nothing but an endless void for him to float through, desperately awaiting the night so he could awake. Each night felt like an eternity, though on the days where he knew he would wake to see you, the void seemed just that bit shorter. He found it difficult to track how many months had passed of your visits, each time he spoke with you he had an enjoyable time. You asked in depth questions, even sometimes things that surprised him! He often forgot how young you were when you spoke, the amount of thought you put into each and every question, not just posed to him, but to others as well, they were all well researched, and it was clear for anyone to see, that you cared about what you were doing. Which made you seem far older than you were. Ahk also took pleasure in asking about your life, hearing about your time at school, your family, hobbies, and the fun things your friend got up to, he loved hearing it all! Knowing that you were living a full life, while doing what you loved made him exceptionally happy.

He had no need to keep track of time as the living do, though he noticed the passage of time in other ways, in watching Nicky and you grow up before his very eyes, and in watching Larry and Rebecca’s relationship change. It was obvious that time was getting away from him, as it almost felt as if when Larry had announced his engagement to Rebecca that only a week had passed before he was showing everyone photographs from the wedding. Ahk knew that you only visited two days per month, though with no other guests coming into the museum on the nights between, they all began to bleed together, into one long night. Which is why it came as such a shock when he awoke one night, to find yourself, Larry, Rebecca, Nicky, Teddy Sacajawea, Octavius, Jed, and a few Huns all gathered in his tomb.

“Sorry for the intrusion my boy, but Y/N suggested we do this here so that you would be involved. And also so we could keep it away from Rexy.” Teddy grinned, as Ahk climbed out of the Sarcophagus, padding over to the small congregation, the two Anubis statues keeping a close eye on everyone, ready to pounce if they felt there was any threat to their king.

“Happy birthday Y/N!” Your family called, the three of them wrapping you tightly in a hug. “Double digits, that’s exciting!”

Ahk frowned for a moment, taking in the scene before him, had he known it was your birthday? He could not recall you ever telling him when it was, and he was positive he would remember such important information. He watched as Nicky darted off to the side of the room, collecting a white box and carrying it over to you. Lifting the lid, his eyes darted between the cake and the grin on your lips. He was having a difficult time wrapping his head around what had been said, double digits Larry had said. That would mean you were ten years old today? Surely it had not been three years since he had met you. He felt as if he had found you locked in this very room only a few months ago, and not years. Though looking at you now, it was clear as day that you were older, there was no use trying to deny it. As napkins filled with cake were passed around, you walked over to him, a grin still pasted across your lips. “Happy birthday young one.” He smiled, causing you to laugh softly. He was unsure of how much longer he would be able to call you that, if things were still as they had been when he was alive, there came a point where one no longer liked to be referred to as young. Though you would always be young compared to him, he understood that to others, you were aging correctly, and that he himself was the anomaly here.

“Thank you Ahkmenrah, sorry for bringing everyone in here. Despite what teddy says, it wasn’t actually my idea.” Ahk cuts you off with a quirk of his eyebrow. “He asked where I was headed when he awoke, and I said that I was coming here. He took that as an invitation for everyone to join.”

Ahk can’t help but laugh, his eyes sparkling as they lock with yours. “You, and the others are always more than welcome in here Y/N. And please, you may call me Ahk, we have known each other long enough now for you to use my, how do you call it, nickname”

You nod your head yes, taking a bite of your slice of cake, savouring the flavour as the icing melted on your tongue. “Alright, Ahk it is then.”

So there we have it, chapter one of two or three! Fingers crossed you all liked this, I would love to hear what you think! And if you would like to be tagged in the future chapter(s) let me know! Also, the title of the story, and all chapters are from the song Glitter and Gold by Barns Courtney, I would recommend checking it out here!

And on the off chance you’re at all interested in my other writings, here is my MASTERLIST

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fantasticwolfpenguin · 5 years

Text

Thanks to @crowleyraejepsen for the insp.

“NATM X Az Cro” by fantasticwolfpenguin

“Remember when we took Warlock here when he was younger?” Aziraphale asked Crowley as they were walking up the steps of the Natural History Museum in New York in the United States of America. Aziraphale was dressed in some touristy clothes: some plaid shirt and with a camera over the chest which he did not know how it worked. While Crowley kept his usual outfit of a grey shirt with a black suit and of course, sunglasses. “Well I sensed some supernatural abnormality and that’s what I’m here to study. Now is the perfect time to visit.”

Crowley squinted through his sunglasses, “What do you want me to do about it?” The Ineffable Husbands waltzed through the doors of the museum where they were greeted by a large T-Rex skeleton. Aziraphale motioned to the right, “Well, there is a short running exhibition on Christian mythology and the Bible, if you follow me here...”

The center-piece of the display was of Adam and Eve with a very familiar snake hanging from a tree.

Crowley gritted his teeth, “No, you don’t want me to...”

“Yes, that’s exactly what you’re going to do. And when the guard isn’t watching, you can open some door in the back to let me in. Now.” Aziraphale faced the crowd of people around them and whispered, “look away”. He blew a cloud of dust into the others in the hall. Aziraphale turned around and was hit with a thick rubber snake. He picked it up and waved to a smirking Crowley, “See you later!”

Crowley tried to stay awake and failed ultimately, but not after he hissed and bared his fangs at an American man who commented:

“I can’t believe they made the models of Adam and Eve black. Now even museum displays have to be so PC, freakin’ liberals.” The man ran out screaming “the displays come alive” with other patrons laughing.

Crowley had a nice nap by curling up and covering his see-through eyelids. When he finally came to, he realized something was off. There was a bow and arrow pointed straight at him. And the wax models of Adam and Eve were gone.

“Don’t move you vile snake,” spat a scruffy man wearing nomad’s clothes. Crowley squinted, it seemed like at his feet were tiny people, some wearing Roman legion clothes and others in cowboy hats?

“Wait I think you have the wrong snake,” he awkwardly suggested and slithered down as fast as he could. The arrow narrowly missed him and instead stuck to the tree. Crowley quickly morphed back to humanoid form. The nomad which Crowley soon realized was some sort of Hun whispered, “Demon!”

“You are correct sir, and can you call off the little people so I can grab my angel?”

Atila the Hun grunted and the little people at his feet receded, making a small path for Crowley. Crowley casually sauntered down the halls of museum realizing that everything that represented human or animal form was alive and they were all watching him. There was even the T-Rex skeleton running down the halls which he noted not to run into later. He took a couple turns to reach the back door where Aziraphale said he would be.

Aziraphale was waiting for him and wondered what took him so long, he already got a couple of corn dogs to pass the time. But soon realized Crowley must have fallen asleep and wouldn’t be on time. Suddenly, the door swung open and out came Crowley.

“Angel-You-Won’t-Believe-This-”

“Crowely the door! I don’t want to be left out here for another day, the rats here are pretty vicious...”

“Oh yes...” Crowley stuck his fingers before in the gap between the closing door and the frame, and without skipping a beat continued, “Okay you were right, but it’s weirder than you think, angel.”

Aziraphale and Crowley both got into the hallway of the back entrance and were met by the Hun again as well as some others. At the front was human mortal stood front with his night guard outfit, and to his side a young pharaoh. Along with a wax man in a 19th century, tan U.S. military uniform with a tiny cowboy and Roman commander on his shoulder. The wax man was also holding hands with a young Native American woman.

“My goodness...” Aziraphale managed after some time staring and closing his open mouth. The wax man in the U.S military uniform spoke first.

“Hello! My name is Theodore Roosevelt 26th President of the United States of America at your service! I am pleased to meet you...”

“Aziraphale, and it seems like Crowley surprised you,” Aziraphale shook the President’s hand quite tightly and with vigor. The President resumed holding hands with the young Native American woman whom he called Sacajwea.

“On my shoulder here is Octavius and Jedediah” gesturing to the Roman commander and cowboy. “This is our night guard, Lawrence Daley, and the venerable pharaoh, Ankhmenra. Oh I can’t forget the one you first met, Atila the Hun, the warrior from the East.”

“We have a lot of questions...” Crowley muttered leaning against the wall.

“But you have all night to answer them!” added Aziraphale overjoyed to see magic working at such great strength.

Mr. Daley awkwardly shook both of their hands. “Angels and Demons like on the ones straight out of the Bible. What’s God like? How do I process this uh first before you answer that--”

“And the antichrist is real too... For some reason I felt like I’ve been through this before,” mentioned Crowley to Aziraphale.

“Ah, more magical men, there seems to be an endless supply of those,” Sacajwea rolled her eyes.

Crowley changed form again lengthening her hair and relaxing her face, “I could prove you wrong, sister...”

Sacagwea laughed, “I like you! Teddy, can demons usually do tricks like this one? I don’t think I read that on the plaques in the display.”

“If it’s really a demon, I don’t trust it...” the little cowboy, squinted at Crowley. “Don’t get too close! I got bullets in my revolver and I’m not afraid to shoot it.” After some silence, the pharaoh stepped forward.

“They only come here to learn, I see no real threat, come follow me you too, Mr. Daley you can go on your way. I got this. Octavius and Jedediah come with me.” The two little people came down from the shoulders of the President and followed. Ankhmenra motioned to Aziraphale who shrugged tugged the hand of Crowley. Who was caught off guard and almost slipped on the lioninim floor. Aziraphale tried holding up Crowley so they wouldn’t fall, “Careful, dear.”

“Lovers as well, I see,” the pharaoh chuckled, eyeing the couples behind him, “I know a thing or two about that around here, I personally think it’s a side effect of the tablet...”

“Sorry what tablet?” Aziraphale dropping Crowley’s hand to fish out a notebook and a pen from his suit pocket. Crowley, annoyed, started to look elsewhere and at all the displays with masks, fossils, carvings, hopping and writhing. It sent chills down Crowley’s back. They turned into the Egypt hall, where there were two large statues of Anubis standing guard while the pharaoh casually told them to step aside. Then a little monkey approached them and it chittered at the pharaoh.

“I apologize for leaving mid-game, we had some visitors, an angel and a demon, their names Aziraphale and Crowley,” the pharaoh answered.

“Monkeys! I quite like them, what’s this kind young lad’s name?” Aziraphale bent down to shake the monkey’s hand. Aziraphale then took out a coin and started their magic trick. Crowley rolled his eyes, he wondered by the end of the night if the two of them would be trapped here indefinitely. His eyes landed on the Roman and the Cowboy. And the Cowboy motioned that he was watching him closely... very closely. The Roman on the other hand was whispering to the Cowboy, that since the angel and demon hasn’t attacked them yet, why would they do anything now.

“Ah! Where was I... the tablet! It’s right here, above where I lay. My mother and father made it so it could bring my soul back from the Field of Reeds and inhabit this body once more. Yet it only works as soon as the sun sets. It also has a distance limiter.” The pharaoh invited Aziraphale to sit with him on the center sarcophagus.

“OOO Ancient magic, with such power, it must have surprised you that it brought other objects to life as well.” Aziraphale was gleaming at the golden object. “I have read many books and never thought they would ever finish something like this. I read mummies were preserved so you can keep living the life on Earth with your own mortal body renewed. I thought coming back to life was impossible. God and her many mysteries!”

“Yes, everyone else around me can come to life, but none were brave enough to free me from my wrappings until Mr. Daley.”

Down the hall, Crowley was getting more annoyed by the two small figures who seemed to act like he wasn’t there. They were now discussing the Bible and how obviously Crowley was the real original demon that tempted Eve. That maybe they should gather their armies to make them leave. So Crowley crouched down and picked the Cowboy up with two fingers.

“Hey, I don’t understand what your problem with me is, tiny cowboy.”

“I’m not talking to some hip-sunglassed-British man like you...”the little cowboy pulled his hat further down his face and crossed his arms.

Octavius piped in sounding a bit tired,“He just doesn’t like new people, and don’t hold him like that, place him on your palm. Also don’t mention that he’s small, ever. Jed, I’m going back, the boys have to do some training and I don’t want to waste precious moonlight.” The cowboy blew a kiss after, the little Roman commander walked off. Without turning back the Octavius “caught” the kiss.

Crowley placed the cowboy on their palm. The cowboy still facing away from the demon. Crowley took off his sunglasses and his eyes widened, glowing to lighting up the cowboy.

“Look, I see we have a lot in common. We put our walls up to strangers because we have a lot we care about especially, one being or one whatever reanimated plastic person in particular...” Crowley started.

The cowboy turned around and adjusted his hat.

“And it seems like your other half really understands how you truly felt even at a shorter time than my angel did. Aziraphale took 6000 years to realize... and it think he’s still trying to process... I think we’re both miracles,”Crowley tried to sound a bit kinder. “How could a cowboy ever hang out with a roman soldier? Or an angel be with a demon?”

“You’re right, partner,” the little cowboy was tearing up, “Name’s Jedediah, but you can call me ‘Jed.’”

“Anthony J. Crowley, lover of an angel and Queen.”

“Funny, I thought you just said you only had eyes for that angel.”

“No, it a band, you know music---” Crowley gritted his teeth and tilted his head in interjection not knowing how to explain things to a plastic figure who thinks it’s from the 1800’s.

“Anthony, I am truly sorry for thinking you were going to steal us. Let me take you to my favorite place in this museum.”

“It’s Crowley, and lead the way... Jed...” Crowley totally did not feel weird at all following a reanimated piece of plastic in a halls of a museum in the United States.

They walked to the glass dome where a lot of tables were being placed for an event. Jed asked Crowley to help him press some buttons. Projections of stars started to form and they moved across, dancing and enjoying themselves. Crowley went and got a bottle of bourbon and poured some in the cap for the cowboy. Crowley pushed all the plates off the center table, so they could lay down.

“You know, I helped to create them,” sighed Crowley taking a drink, humans loved re-creating God’s things when they couldn’t see it for themselves anymore.

“The stars? You still look pretty young to me.”

“The humans here can’t see them anymore. I was thinking about Aziraphale even back then when placing them, you know?”

“Wow, that’s a long time, how did you fall? You couldn’t see each other for awhile. I always got to see Octavius, we started out as enemies fighting for some territory until one day, the Gigantor made us talk. Then I realized Octavius wasn’t half bad.”

Crowley motioned to the stars. “I always hung around the wrong group of people. I asked too many questions at the wrong time. God wasn’t too happy back then. Lots of people causing lots of problems.” Crowley sat up and sipped some more bourbon. He watched as two constellations joined in an embrace. “But I always found my way back beside Aziraphale.”

“And the angel still doesn’t understand?”

“Yeah I think he only brought me here so I could get him in. He says sometimes that I go too fast as well.”

“But he brought you anyway, you got to appreciate every moment you’re together, compadre. And it’s okay to slow down if that’s what the angel wants.”

“Thanks for the advice.”

“Thanks for sticking out with me, demon. I got to know you a little more, at least try to show your real side more often. You’re not what I thought you were at all,” the little cowboy shook Crowley’s finger. The cowboy held up his cap,“To lovers who need to see the stars.”

Crowley tapped his bottle to the cap, “To lovers.”

In the distance there was a shout from the President: “Sun comes up in 10 minutes!”

“Well the sun’s coming up, so we gotta get back to our positions.”

“What does that mean? Just hop on to my shoulder and we’ll head back to the miniatures hall.”

Crowley let Jed get down from back into the Wild West. Crowley rejoined Aziraphale in the hall with the night guard.

“How did it go, angel?”

“The poor chap was clueless as I was on how it worked said ‘Heka’ which just means ‘magic’. That’s why I wasn’t surprised, he was assassinated by his older brother, but he said he already exacted revenge on him. Just more politics, so we went back to playing the board game he and the monkey had already started. Then I heard the announcement, did you know they fade to dust if too much sunlight hits them? And right before I left, Anhkmenra said ‘May Hethret bless you and the demon’.”

“What the hell does that mean?” Crowley placed his sunglasses back on his face.

“I don’t know, I’m not Egyptian,”the angel quickly replied hoping the demon had no knowledge of ancient deities.

The night guard approached them. “Please don’t ever come back here. I know the both of you had your fun, but this is just more trouble than it is. Hopefully, none of you decided to take any souvenirs, you know what happens and I will have to deal with the director asking about missing pieces.” Aziraphale and Crowley both shook their heads. Then he lead them out and before closing the door, Aziraphale blew some more dust, so the guard could forget that they were ever there.

“Where to next?” Aziraphale wondered.

“Anywhere, you are,” Crowley replied, and they both turned red.

😘Thanks for reading, I know there’s a lot of GO fan fics out there, please be kind/civil in the comments if you want to ask anything. Maybe even share your own head cannon. I try my best with grammar, but some things slip up so please don’t comment on that; it’s for fun. Have a nice day.😘

#fanfiction #good omens fanfiction #night at the museum #good omens #I would personally place this happening before the 3rd movie #natm fanfiction #but you can think whatever you want #aziraphale x crowley #Aziraphale #Crowley #ineffable husbands #NATM X AZ CRO

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opportunity-rover · 4 years

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who me? reading night at the museum tiny cowboy x tiny roman meta at 3:37am? perhaps even getting emotional about it? hahaha that would be so weird

this is a cry for help

#roverrants

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generallynerdy · 5 years

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Tiny (Bucky Barnes X Male!Reader)

Summary: Tony Stark and Bruce Banner have one rule-- well, one rule that everyone actually tries to listen to-- in the compound. And that’s not to mess around in their lab. But when the cat’s away, the mice will play. Then, one of the mice will get hit with a shrink ray and actually become mouse-sized.

Requested by HauntRavensong (AO3): I had a prompt in mind. Only if you don't mind and I know you're busy. The prompt is that male reader (again, only if you don't mind) and Bucky are playing with the electronics in the lab and reader gets shrunk so Bucky takes up the mantle of watching out for him until it gets reversed. Maybe some snark and teasing from any of the others about the situation :3

Key: (Y/N) - your name

Warnings: Cursing probably, what’s an infinity wade

Word Count: 1,470

Note: i used this thing called Fighter’s Block (google it) and wrote this in like 20 minutes??? holy shit. also babe i will write whatever pronouns reader u want, i am physically incapable of being consistent anyway lmao

Tony had exactly one rule in the compound. Well, admittedly, he had a lot of rules. But there was only one that the team actually paid attention to. Tony and Bruce were very touchy about their labs and their rule was that no one-- no one-- was allowed to mess with stuff in the lab. Of course, it's the Avengers, so one would think they have the sense to listen to each other, at least on occasion.

You are an Avenger and you know this to be false.

If there is one team in the world that won't listen to orders, it's them.

One day, you and one of your best friends of the team, Bucky, were bored. You were bored out of your minds, because no bad guys decided to come out of hiding for the day and none of your teammates were around to entertain you. Bucky wasn't allowed out of the compound since the whole Civil War incident, so there wasn't much to do otherwise. That said, you probably shouldn't have agreed to his idea of sneaking into Tony and Bruce's lab, no matter how bored you were. But you agreed anyway.

Most of the lab's toys were pretty standard, but once you figured out Tony's passcode to the back part of the lab-- it was Morgan, of course-- things got way more fun.

"What does this look like to you?" Bucky hummed, holding up a box painted in Cap's signature colours.

You shrugged. "Something for Cap probably."

"Well, yeah, but what does he have in mind for the punk?" He teased.

Weapons were plentiful in the lab, but so were suits of armour. You found a few updated War Machine sets, a few bow and arrow upgrades for Clint, and even an anesthetic meant for the Hulk. A label warned that it hadn't been tested yet, though.

"Woah," Bucky breathed out, holding up a ray-gun looking thing. "What's this?"

"Freeze ray?" You asked.

He laughed. "Wouldn't put it past Stark. It doesn't really look like one, though, does it?"

You walked over to him and plucked the gun from his hands, turning it around with curiosity. "Weird," you muttered to yourself.

Upon later consideration, you decided you should've been safer when handling a gun. Alas, present you had the genius idea to look down the barrel directly, trying to get an idea of what powered it.

Then, it shot you straight in the face and you blacked out.

When you came to, presumably hours later, you could hear nothing but Bucky freaking out. He was talking to himself and pacing, from what you could hear, but when you opened your eyes…

You weren't sure where you were. You were on metal ground and something akin to a giant stapler was beside you, but it was all you could see before you looked up. Holy. Shit.

Bucky was a lot taller than you remembered. In fact, you didn't remember anyone ever being that tall.

"Uh...Buck?" You asked, looking down at your hands.

He turned to you in a sort of slow-motion movement. "Oh thank God, you're awake. Are you okay? Except for the tiny thing, I mean..."

"Tiny...?" You looked down at yourself and suddenly it all made sense. "A SHRINK RAY!?"

"It's okay! It's okay!" Bucky instantly said. "Don't freak out. I'm gonna go find Stark and we'll figure everything out. Let's get going."

"Oh no," you whined as he held out his hand for you to climb onto. "The others are never gonna let this one go."

"What do you MEAN (Y/N) shrunk himself?" Tony raved over the phone.

Bucky sighed. "Just what I said. He pointed the gun at his face--"

Bruce, who was standing beside Tony from what you could see on the screen, sighed and rubbed his face. "We have one rule, you guys. One, single rule."

"Sorry!" You squeaked, having to shout for them to hear you. "We were really bored and, well, Tony's passcode is like the easiest thing ever."

"I'll kill you," he hissed. "I'll kill both of you."

"Whatever," Bucky said, diverting the conversation. "Just come back here and fix him already."

"That's gonna be a problem, guys."

"Uh oh," you said as soon as the words left his mouth.

Bucky clenched his free fist, seeing as his left was holding you up for them to see. "What kind of problem are we talking?"

"We just got called to a situation out here," Tony explained. "HYDRA is all over this stinking place."

Bruce chimed in. "We won't be free to go until it's cleared up. We don't know how long it'll take."

Bucky facepalmed. "Great. Just...great."

For the next few days, it was you and Bucky against the world. And it wasn't a pretty world to say the least.

Being tiny was much more difficult than people gave it credit for and not 5'2" kind of tiny, but more like a few inches kind of tiny. How Scott Lang ever managed it, you have no idea. Everything you wanted to do required help, because everything you needed was made for big people.

Even making a cup of coffee just to feel life in your veins in the morning was a pain.

Everyone thought it was pretty hilarious, too, except for Bucky. Sam would burst into laughter at the sight of you jumping up and down on the TV remote just to get to the channel you wanted. Thor thought you putting PopTarts in the toaster was pretty great, too. Bucky was the only one who took your frustration seriously.

In fact, he was the one to come up with a solution.

"Now, I'm not saying it's ideal..." He started.

"Please," you interrupted, "I just need to not have to ask someone to do everything for me anytime I need something."

Okay, so his plan did include that, but it was a specific person: him.

He wore shirts with pockets. It was a miraculous little thing, but it made your whole life terrifyingly simple. He carried you everywhere and anywhere, all over the compound.

After talking to Scott, he even had a few more ideas. There was a little makeshift bed for you on his nightstand, just in case of midnight emergencies, that was made out of a shoe. Scott gave you a few of his shrinking disks to shrink down some silverware and other necessities, so eating became impossibly easier. Admittedly, you had gone swimming in a cup of coffee more than once. Nobody thought that was funny. They either thought it was relatable, like Peter and Shuri, or kind of disgusting.

But Buck stayed with you the whole time.

Four days into it, you were sleeping peacefully when he poked at your shoe-bed.

"Leave me alone," you muttered into the blankets. "I don't wanna get up."

"C'mon, (Y/N)," he said. "You've made it this far. Just give it a few more days."

You groaned. "If this has to go on for a few more days, I will die. If Sam has Redwing chase me around anymore I'm just gonna jump off the roof."

"Hey, don't talk like that." He huffed at your silence. "(Y/N), you're not dying."

"Really?" You asked drowsily. "Because it feels like it."

Bucky sighed and, despite your protests, grabbed your PJ shirt between his index finger and his thumb, pulling you from the bed. He held you up in front of his face. "(Y/N)," he chided.

"I don't like being manhandled," you muttered mutinously, crossing your arms.

The soldier gave a devilish grin. "Speaking of being manhandled...I know how to cheer you up."

Bucky knew the way to your heart. A good movie and great snacks was an instant win. Of course, it helped that the movie was Night at the Museum, then the second one, then the third one after it. He just knew all the ways to get you to like him and, to be honest, you liked him a lot more than you would like to admit.

Anyway, you really related to the tiny cowboy and his Roman boyfriend. Being tiny sucked.

Nobody understood the struggle like they did. Maybe it was why Bucky wanted to watch the movie with you. That was sweet of him.

You were just finishing up the third movie when FRIDAY spoke over the PA system.

"Sergeant Barnes, Agent (Y/N)," she said. "Boss said to tell you he's home."

"OH THANK GOD!" You exclaimed. You leapt from the edge of the popcorn bowl by instinct and landed on Bucky's hand, which was outstretched for you already.

Okay, so maybe you had gotten used to the tiny thing. And maybe you had gotten used to being with Bucky 24/7. But your point still stood. Being tiny sucked.

Masterlist

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maggotmouth · 5 years

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hi i’m nora ( 23. gmt. she/her ) and it turns out i really miss playing bridget ! i wasn’t feeling frida bt i wanted to explore som of her backstory more so ive kind of fused bits of her into bridget..... sue me.... for those of u who didn’t know her before i dropped her, bridget grew up in a trailer park in texas, she’s an angsty socialist leftie who gets fucked at the pub and goes off on one about capitalism. film nerd. got in on a partially subsidised scholarship and works in a bar and a fast food place to pay for her accomodation. here’s a pinboard !! everythin else is below this cut, like this post n i’ll (probably forget to) smash that im button for plots x

application template.

( cis-female ) haven’t seen BRIDGET MATUSIAK around in a while. the MARGARET QUALLEY lookalike has been known to be GARRULOUS & CANDID, but SHE can also be FICKLE & ERRATIC. The 21 year old is a JUNIOR majoring in FILM. I believe they’re living in AUDAX but I popped by earlier and no one answered the door.

aesthetics.

thumb holes poked through the cuffs of your sleeves, roller blades, grazed knees, not eating your greens, smiling with a mouthful of blood, sleeping in a cherry lip balm and scrunchies to keep the wild locks from your eyes. piercing your own ears with a safety pin when your dad wouldn’t take you.

connection to tatiana & did they choose her name during the watershed?

knew each other from the cheer team in bridgets freshman year and tatiana’s sophomore year. had a competitive friendship to start with but then they got into a discussion about politics at a party one night, and maybe hooked up a few times after tatiana had jst broken up w someone. they were sort of seeing each other very casually for a bit, but…. they came from vastly different circles n it didn’t really work. they were in a bad partch at the time of the reaping so to speak, and bridget picked her name For A Giggle but now regrets it big time obviously

tw drugs, teen pregnancy

BACKSTORY TIME.. her mother was from the wrong side of the tracks, was chucked out of home pretty young after a teenage pregnancy, wanted 2 go to art school and started working as an erotic dancer to pay for college but then jst…. ended up staying there. one of those girls u see in the documentaries who had Big Plans but ultimately never got to pursue them n jst got…. sucked in by the money

her mom n dad met in high school at a parents evening. alice was fourteen, toby was thirty-one. bridget’s mom alice was a roman catholic – uneducated in matters of safe sex, mother mary around her neck, bras hanging over wooden crucifixes – and willing to give it to the first boy who seemed interested enough, gift-wrapped or not. toby was the father to a girl down the road who alice knew nothing of besides her name and the few encounters in the corridors facing a stoney stare that screamed homewrecker. it only happened once, but once was enough. alice was out of the house as soon as her parents knew a child was growing in her womb.

bridget n her mum alice were more like sisters growing up, probably because of the closeness in age. alice should’ve known that you couldn’t have a thirteen-year-old-daughter at 27 without everyone knowing you’d been one of those girls who gave it away fast as a hot potato, and maybe bridget should have known that she’d inherit more than her mother’s wide eyes, that things have a way of circling back to us --- that at fourteen she too would lose it on the floor of a swimming pool changing room, soggy back, polka-dot nylon of a swimsuit pulled down to her ankles.

she grew up in a trailer park just outside of orlando resort, but she was raised in dressing rooms surrounded by sparkly costumes and nipple pasties and leotards and the like. as a kid she’d try to trot about in her moms heels n yearned for the day she’d be able to be on stage.

if you’ve seen the florida project its a bit like tht.... just kids left to do their own shit.... mother’s a bit all over the place... made money by stealing wristbands off orlando theme park visitors, and bridget was p much raised by the community, to be honest. most of her youth was spent scurrying about half naked in cowboy boots and glasses too big for her face. a smol feral child

gilly (referred to as junior) was born four years after bridget, the son of a carpenter and sculpture artist named gilbert “gilly” senior, her moms latest squeeze. whenever she wasn’t at school bridget would be in gilly’s workshop doin her homework surrounded by parts of furniture or hanging out with the kids who were visiting disneyland but couldn’t afford the hotels on the resort

like her mother, bridget fell pregnant barely out of her gingham print dresses, hair in two plaits down her back, teddies still lining her bed. unlike her mum, she was not box-shipped out to a home for fallen women but rather booked into a clinic, given a pill, just like taking your vitamins.

her mother flaked out when bridget was around fifteen and junior was eleven. they were in the system for a while, before gilly was finally granted custody as legal guardian. the three of them moved to marfa, texas so that gilly could run classes in sculpture and woodworking at the art institute. they’re not sure where their mother went. some say she rededicated herself as a virgin and joined the convent in penance for her sins. some say she works in a las vegas strip club and sells pills to minors. bridget likes to believe that she’s an actress, her name in newspapers and her face in a star-spangled dressing mirror.

bridget used to do sponsored silences and hunger strikes for kids in developing countries. was that kid in school who was always raising money something. i mean its kinda cute but also she just wanted the acclaim and attention so…. and most of the time it didn’t even make it to the disadvantaged kids she was raising it for cos her mom needed rent money or to buy the kids new shoes n they could barely afford much themselves

she’s a strident feminist, an activist for human rights and animal rights, a vocal vegetarian and an all-round soapbox sadie. catch her in the quad shouting about human rights through a megaphone. will most definitely have quizzed your character on institutionalised racism whilst inhaling nos at a party and snacking on a big bowl of cheesy wotsits

aesthetic: big military or leather jackets over tiny little sundresses. always in docs or creepers and a beret with an anarchist symbol painted on it. wears a long green trench coat covered in badges for alt punk rock bands or a red denim jacket that she hacked into a crop jacket with a pair of kitchen scissors. cuffed jeans, thrifted or stolen. white converse, more grey tbh through years of wear. crop tops and plaid shirts tied round her waist. smudged mascara. glitter smeared over cheekbones from the previous night. cigarette smoke shrouding you like a veil, the red string of a thong peaking out purposely from jeans, piercing your own ears with a safety pin when your dad wouldn’t take you, kate moss posters lining the walls of a teenage bedroom, thumb holes poked through the cuffs of your sleeves, feet pounding the earth until your soles bleed crimson.

an aspiring screenwriter. she has a very image-based view of memory and experience. always doing a screenplay or shooting film. her style has a lot of catholic iconography (think virgin suicides style or baz luhrmann’s romeo + juliet if it was done on a super 8 camera) bcos catholicism is one of the few things she remembers about her mother. she’s never actually tried to find her mum / find out about her, jst…. occasionally channels that energy into her work.

struggles with self-image and the need to be Loved By All a lot. uses sex as an affirmation of her worth and also kinda manic-depressive (though not officially diagnosed) bcos her upbringing was a bit unstable, she was a looked after child for a while when the adoption papers were still going through… struggles a lot with feeling unwanted, especially since her grandparents refuse to acknowledge her existence cos she was born outside of marriage….. so she craves feeling wanted,, like despite being a real women’s rights activist and hating objectification, at the same time to bridge there’s nothing better than someone sizing you up with hunger in their eyes

she’s queer, but i guess she favours women, and is incredibly vocal in her support of the lgbt+ movement. often at rallies. has done a face-sitting protest. really is that bitch

there’s a degree of anger for anger’s sake in bridget. she likes passionate, angry music – particularly garage rock, punk and riot grrrl. she loves the slits and skinny girl diet. viv albertine inspired her to take up bass guitar.

back at lockwood she was working two jobs to pay for uni !! at the bowling alley polishing the shoes and fixing the bowling lanes, and also as a burger flipper at mcdonalds. in amsterdam she’s managed to secure a part-time bar job at one of the hendrix university bars

massive film buff. is majoring in film at uni also spends a lot of time at the movie theatre n probably has like a season ticket. is one of those pretentious film nerds who’re like “what do u think of goddard’s work?” but also just really into shitty horror movies

she spends her evenings in downtown bars willing away her boredom, trying to find something that’ll jerk her out of apathetic lethargy. she toys with the idea of becoming a stripper — it certainly pays better than flipping burgers — but she lacks the energy to dance for several hours a night.

she loves b movies and slasher flicks. at parties, she’ll occasionally try to make a horror of her own, on a super 8 camera in someone’s basement, very paranormal activity, but she’ll inevitably get bored, or too drunk and give up, like she does with most things in her life. she lacks drive and motivation. she’s bright but there’s no hunger in her.

she’s fickle and enigmatic. one moment she could be your best friend, the next, she’ll behave like a total stranger. bridget’s unpredictable because she’s still unsure of her own identity, frequently flitting between different characters, like snake skins, before she grows bored of being bubbly and eager and becomes spiteful again. her core personality traits are probably forthright, impulsive, restless, thrill-seeking, selfish, gregarious, easily bored, childish.

SOME ?MILDLY AMUSING? FACTS

writes shitty poems on the back of napkins and quotes dead philosophers she’s never read. romanticises herself a lot. like will be standing there in a ripped t-shirt and her undies smoking a cig like “hmmm… i bet someone is falling in love with me right now”

is vegetarian for environmental reasons but snorts coke at parties like that isn’t shit for the environment ?? sis, it don’t add up

loves dirt. ate a worm once because someone dared her too. shamelessly disgusting.

she’s slightly obsessed with true crime, up late watching documentaries on the manson family murders.

favourite drink is cherry coke

a lot of her time is spent in the record store, plugged into a set of headphones, head-banging in the corner to a scratched record. music, for birdie, is a form of escapism. that and dropping acid in parking lots lmao.

sells nudes on twitter. whenever she gets low on cash she contacts one of the seedy old men who used to visit her mom’s club to venmo her $500 in return for pictures

that girl who’s always harping on about body positivity on instagram while wearing cute underwear and looking absolutely bomb

really good at rodeo bull riding. the club in marfa had one so as a youth she got really good at it bcos she was constantly tryin to outdo her friends on who could stay on for the longest. a video of her staying on one for like 4 minutes after downing several jager bombs went viral once.

micro-doses acid for mild depression bcos she didn’t believe in “that CBT bullshit”, thought that therapists, like her, were jst con artists so always a bit spaced out

volunteers at one of the local galleries but mostly just rants to old white dutch men about how cis white men have dominated art for years :/ is one of those SJW-types , like.... have a day off, jameela jamil......

has a pet rat called popeye

takes photographs of dead animals to use in her art and often posts them side-by-side with stills of women in porn to show the shelf-life of female sex workers in a patriarchal-dominated industry or some bullshit idk

big into spoken word poetry, even if its shit. likes savage depictions of femininity

wrote a thesis on art as an act of masturbation that got published

this bitch HATES capitalism and LOVES karl marx

time isn’t real. nothing exists. the self is a social construct. finger guns.

an awful person, really

plots i want that i mostly stole from the tags

muse a tries to stand up for muse b in a bar but unfortunately cannot fight for shit.

muse a (prob bridget cos works in a bar) works somewhere that’s open late and muse b comes in to take shelter from the storm.

‘I got in my car and you were sleeping in the backseat who the hell are you and how did you get into my car’

umm a wlw plot isnpired by san junipero ! esp this post. could have been a former fling that ended sourly !! cos i dont like ship forcing but still?? give me wlw stuff

“i just decked you in the face because i’m drunk and you were pissing me off but ow my hand really fucking hurts i think i might have broke it and oh look your nose is bleeding and now we’re both sitting awkwardly in the hospital while i glare at you from across the room. but wait are you giving me sex eyes?? stop that i’m supposed to mad at you??”

“platonically sharing a bed until i wake up and you’re curled round me and my nose is buried in your hair so i’ll pretend to stay asleep to keep this for a little while longer” plots

“highkey want a ‘someone wrote your phone number on the wall of a bathroom in my dorm with ‘call for a good time’ and i just texted you to let you know that i scribbled it out and oh wait you’re actually funny and easy to talk to and now we’re talking every day and i might have a tiny little crush on you even tho i don’t even know your name’ plot”

goddamn its another shippy wlw plot apparently that’s all my tag is but this post

“known for being rebels without cause, MUSE A and MUSE B are synonymous to their fast cars, nights out beneath the stars, empty bottles of alcohol, and loud music. they meet by chance one night and immediately click, and embark on a careless adventure after it despite not knowing each other. it’s them against the world: after all, what could go wrong ?”

any of these sad sour unrequited love plots

‘we take the same elevator every day and due to a misunderstanding I assumed you didn’t speak english and I’ve been talking to my friend about how hot you are for three weeks and apparently my friend has known from the start but you agreed not to tell me bc you both think its hilarious what the fuck’ au

‘I accidentally dropped you while you were crowd surfing and you broke your ankle and now I feel responsible so I’m carrying you out of the moshpit’ au

walked in on my roommate and you screwing except i know you from class and i freaked out a little

i was hustling you in pool for money but you were hustling me for free drinks so who’s the real winner here?

bridgot goes to strip clubs n peep shows like every day, cos she’s writing about the history of pornographic film n its basically research for her, so if ur characters would be into strip clubs they might see her there

i feel like she’d be on student council if they had one of those. shes that kind of bitch, turning up like elle woods with a big feather pen or a light-up heart marker, slamming down some truths before upping and leaving to go for her 11am chai latte break

som1 who attended the art institute in marfa for a summer n maybe knew her when she was a bit younger ??? idk

drama. angst. horror. also nice bike rides in amsterdam please

feel free to im me if u wanna plot, or, like this post and i’ll hit u with a message!

#i have literally just slapped bridget n frida in a blender.#sorry if u had plots with frida. pls feel free 2 discuss w me n we could just do them w one of my other characters instead if it fits.#xxxx plot with me my goblin children xxx #water:intro

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