okaywolf

To the monster person prompt by amiserablepileofwords — Monster who got lost in their own maze

Content warning: large insect, descriptions of insect physical features and sounds, implied death, skeleton

If you’d like, y’can look up Scolopendra subspinipes, the centipede I based ‘babe’ on. Kinda like a face-cast situation.


The chittering of the forty metre long glossy dark centipede reflected off of immaculate stone walls, plates of exoskeleton rubbing ridges in escalating frequency until the chittering became indiscernible from a hiss.

“Look, babe, I’m sure you’re not lost lost in the maze.”

Quick serpentine movements rose the hiss’s volume until the frustrated attempts to talk over it quit instead. When ‘babe’ quieted down, the voice emanating from a point roughly above ‘babe’s head and moving with them spoke again.

“Ahuh. Have you tried only making left turns? Or is it right turns?”

The maze is a flat plane of tunnels, large enough for ‘babe’ to move through with ease and intimidating to any intruder. ‘Babe’ reluctantly chitters as they inspect the intentionally nondescript walls.

“It doesn’t work that way? Wait, your maze is magical?”

‘Babe’ sighs out of their many body segments. The wizard that sold them the maze had convinced them into the ‘value add’ of non-Euclidean infrastructure.

“And you never told me.”

The point roughly above ‘babe’s head remains silent for a long while. ‘Babe’ spends the time failing to think of an adequate excuse.

“So every time I came to yours, I could’ve gotten so lost I’d never see the light of day again?”

‘Babe’ now wishes they had spent the time failing to think of an adequate apology. They chitter defiant at the implication they might never see the light of day again.

“You are so lucky I’m so into you, I should be way more upset right now.”

Relieved that their relationship isn’t ending over voice call, ‘babe’ wishes they could be relieved they are no longer lost in the maze that dissuades people from storming their burrow. With an experimental foray down a turn, they happen upon a set of bones they’d rather not. The person they were dating who was currently speaking from a point roughly above their head would have told them—perhaps complained about in the same exasperated manner—if there were the remains of some ‘dissuaded’ person on the very specific route taken to safely reach ‘babe’s burrow. A route ‘babe’ needed to be on and clearly wasn’t.

“Ah, so, is there a wizard you want me to look up or something?”

‘Babe’ resists the urge to skitter in a self-deprecating spiral.

“What do you mean ‘no warrantee, no customer service, DIY install’? Are you kidding me?!?”

Written to the prompt by Making Up Monsters — Monster who is starting to like the hold music

Originally posted on cohost on June 7th, 2024.


Bossa nova occupies an unfortunate place in too large of the popular consciousness. Most often experienced stripped of its energy and relegated to crummy speakers by hold services that exacerbate further abysmal distortion.

The tide has thrice flooded and left this dripping cavern beneath the idyllic shepherding green of an isle in miserably cold waters while tinny speakers by old copper wiring pipe the cheapest copyright of what would be too short a loop of music even if it hadn’t been echoing nearing two days into the stony expanse.

Between stalagmites, the hulking expanse of something unspeakable squirms on its back, kicking six sets of claws into the humid chill before turning on its side. The shuffling snare brush matches the encroaching rising tide trickling into crevices and soaking its toes as it listlessly listens to the jarring cut and loop in the track. It breathes once in, once out, and pauses for—

“Your call is important to us. Please stay on the line. Your call will be answered in the order it was received.”

—and breathes in again as truly atrocious sounding keyboard pretending to be a marimba resumes the unsatisfying final note of a lost riff.

It rolls over, toppling a stalagmite as easily as a sand castle with the awkward kicks of a hind leg vying for a comfortable resting position, and starts humming along.

Written to the prompt by Making Up Monsters — Monster who ate time

This is the last one, but somewhere I have tucked away more monster + time prompts that could continue the series someday…

Originally posted on cohost on April 2nd, 2024.


World-ending catastrophes have a way of happening eventually. Things just go that way. All the things in the world—including but not at all exclusively the sentient and sapient presences—take turns invested in and actively trying to turn away world-ending catastrophes, but one will eventually happen.

The eventual part was a concern. If She stopped time, then the world wouldn’t end. If She stopped time, the world wouldn’t be happening. It wouldn’t be collapsed on itself or on hold, it would simply stop and not be happening.

And She didn’t want to start time back at the beginning. She didn’t want to undo or redo a single moment of Her girlfriend’s existence. A girlfriend with a too long tail, saw tooth talons and spikes and teeth, a less wiry less greasy more soft more fluffy bloom of fur on its chest. A beautiful, putrid girlfriend who She loved so much.

And so She didn’t hesitate the slightest at the offer.

And in the void of world ended by catastrophe, where existence was gone, it still existed. She wasn’t a part of existence because time wasn’t a part of her the way time was a part of existence. And time—a very key part of existence—still existed inside of her. And for them nothing was different. The nothing of world ended by catastrophe was unending love in perpetuity.

Written to the prompt by Making Up Monsters — Monster who stole time

Originally posted on cohost on April 2nd, 2024.


There weren’t many places in the world it could go and not be found. She was a little too big for that. Even if she leapt from the top of the tallest mountain and landed in the middle of the thickest forest, something would eventually find it and if something could find it so could all the sentient and sapient things that were very, very upset at her.

She hadn’t meant to. It was just so, so happy to be remembered again that she had completely swept time away and instead of a world-ending catastrophe or the entirety of existence’s experience of time collapsing on itself time just put everything on hold.

It hadn’t experienced time on hold while being sentient and/or sapient but it understood the hold wasn’t affecting the sentient and sapient parts. At least not in a way that made it so those sentient and sapient presences weren’t very, very upset at her.

But time was so full of joy. Time was crying with joy and laughing and pressing it into a gentle and tender hug like nothing else could do for fear of saw tooth talons and spikes—and teeth.

And it was so, so happy. It promised she would return Her, soon. Soon. Soon.

For now She was hers and hers alone.