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simpymf · 5 months

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𝐌𝐄𝐓𝐀𝐍𝐎𝐈𝐀 pt. 1/3

⌈ UNDERTALE HUMAN!SANS x MONSTER!OC ⌋ (n.) the journey of changing one’s mind, heart, self, or way of life

CONTENT WARNINGS: EXPLICIT LANGUAGE · RACISM · MENTIONS OF ABUSE · MENTIONS OF VIOLENCE · DISCRIMINATION · FAT SHAMING · ANGST · SLIGHT SEXUAL THEMES · ROMANCE · PLOT WITH IMPENDING PORN

Word count: 4,724 words

- - - -

Awh, shii, here we go again.

yup, i'm makin' another fic and it's similar to my previous fic AMATIVE. This fic is considered a "Canon" x OC and not an x Reader, so if yer not into that, I'd suggest skeddaddling now. If you ARE into it... nice.

This is a human!Sans x monster!OC, and the design credit for this human sans belongs to the great @htsan. i know last time i said plz ignore, but y'know what, go crazy wit it this round. maybe i'll become a whore for attention. reblog, like, comment, go ham ig.

please heed the content warnings because the people in this fic are MEAN. and, for the record, the OC does show her side of racism as well, but don't worry. we's fuckin the racism out by the end of this. I've got part 2 finished, but part 3 might take a minute...

That's all I got though! Enjoy part one. Cha cha <3

- - - -

“Bold of you to bring me to a restaurant with a bunch of fish tanks surrounding us,” grumbles a black cat, whose voice is tight and churlish.

Sitting across a plump man—whose clean-shaven head proves well to blind passing monsters and humans alike—is a feminine black cat, her radiant golden eyes squinting sharply at his dorky grin. She sits with her slender and furry arms crossed over her chest, rustling her creamy halter strap crop top.

He chuckles, “didn’t want us ta get stuck de-bait-ing where we should eat, so i thought this would be a fin place.”

“...” The black cat monster says nothing, but her acidic squinting quickly evolves into an unimpressed grimace. “...die.”

“pff- don’t be koi now—”

“Quit it.”

“you finally let me reel you out for once—”

“I said stop.”

“and you’re wearin’ a pretty dress for the occasion...”

“...”

“...” The man grins, his flabby chin resting on the flats of his palms. “it really made my jaws drop when i first craw you.”

Lune’s gold-tipped ears immediately fold back, her nose twitching. Her features instantly scrunch up, regret over saying “yes” to going out boiling deep within. The cat’s pupils shrink into slender threads as she bores her unimpressed stare on Sans’s smug face, her sleek tail swirling beside the curve of her thigh.

“...” Her expression remains sour.

Hehe...

Isn’t he just adorable?

The tightness on Lune’s face loosens on the spot, her lips almost parting to curl back in disapproval, but she stops herself. Instead of staring at the clean-shaven human with affliction written all over her face, the black-furred cat merely gawks back at him in awe, though something tells Sans it isn’t out of fondness.

...hah?

“Adorable”? Him?

Mm-hmm! He was oh-so sweet for asking you to come out for the night!

...he wouldn’t stop saying “please”.

He’s very persistent!

Agitating.

Don’t be mean! He’s trying his best!

Lune’s face becomes pointed, her point of focus veering off to the side absentmindedly. Her golden gaze narrows as she gazes at one of the luxurious fish tanks.

He should stop.

I’m sick of bein’ duped.

Hh-He isn’t duping you! He’s genuine!

With shrewd precision, Lune peers at the human sitting across from the corner of her eye, her lids squinting acutely. She watches the naturally weary human trail his cerulean eyes up to the ceiling embellished with intricate carvings—they remind him of the crashing waves on a seashore—before they fly to another group of humans wrapped in laughter and merriment. The vibrissae stretched above Lune’s squinted eyes furrow.

I don’t see what makes this human any different than the others.

She inhales slowly, the glow of her golden gaze dimming as she squeezes her lids shut. In a habitual temperament, Lune’s tail curls in on itself only to unfold before it curls again. The cat monster slightly digs her yellow-ish claws into the wood of the table, tendons threatening to bulge out from beneath her furry exterior until she releases her grip.

Lune always took June for a fool. A tall, wide-eyed fool. A voluptuous fool. Why did she have to be the one in control of their SOUL? June is as helpless as a toddler stuck in the middle of a mall—which, ironically, occurred once.

June found Sans in the middle of a road, where a car was destined to crash right into his pudgy and stunted body—perhaps it would have killed him; Lune likes to think it would have. After many laborious months of running into each other and pursuing “dates”, Sans unwittingly professed his affections for the bunny monster on a night of celebration. Supposedly, the drinks had a death grip on him, and unfortunately loosened his tongue.

Ever since then, the three two of them lived together with nothing but tranquility and love between them. At any given chance, Lune insulted the human from within the recesses of June’s mind. Never were they addressed by the bunny herself, but Lune was always there. Always nagging about the evident flaws the human possessed. Always pointing out his insecurities as attempts to change June’s mind and get rid of him.

Of course... none of it ever worked. June always looked at the bright side. June always chose to usher Lune’s words away and embrace the human. She always chose to press her amative kisses on his cheeks, his forehead, his nose, his lips, and his body whenever it offered itself. To say Lune abhorred their boundless affections would be an understatement.

She hated seeing both of them joyous. Didn’t she deserve it, too?

No, she hated seeing June joyous around a human.

What good have humans brought us?

All they do is cheat, lie, and hurt everyone.

Th-That’s just not true!

Lune gradually pivots her ears, flashing their soft pink skin. She glares at Sans.

“Why did you ask for me to go out with you? Got tired of June suckin’ up to ya?” Lune questions him, settling the lengths of her furry arms on the ragged wood of their table.

Sans blinks out of his listless stupor, cerulean eyes quick to latch onto Lune’s pointed expression. He spies the skepticism swirling in her narrowed eyes, but he refuses to draw any offense from her cynical query. Instead, the bald man—who actually decided to wear decent clothing for the night—merely cracks a grin.

“why not? you usually come out at night when e’ryone’s asleep... but you just run around the apartment for... whatever reason...” Sans’s grin slightly stretches, almost appearing thinner to the cat lady across from him. His shoulders rise and fall, lids slowly shutting themselves. “ey, i don’t judge. you do whatever makes ya happy i guess.”

Lune gives him another pointed look before turning her head, mildly irritated at his lack of a straight answer. She hates when he gets all elusive with his responses.

A small grumble reverberates within her vocal cords, “And I’m just supposed to believe you’re genuinely interested in a monster like me and June.”

Lune watches him raise a hairless brow, his hands interlacing each other as they sit on the edge of the table.

“...uh... yeah?” He plainly states.

“...”

It appears the bitter monster remains unconvinced. Slowly, her arms slide off the table and return to the height of her chest in order to weave them together. Her tail swishes at her side, brushing off meager speckles of leftover food from—assumably—the previous customers.

“You know I hate humans, right?” Lune bluntly tells him, hardly bothering with maintaining a sugar-coated disposition.

“yup.”

“...and that doesn’t concern you?”

“...should it?”

Lune’s ears veer away from each other before gradually reclining against the top of her head.

“For a long time I wondered why June would pick someone like you,” she grumbles. “You’re not extraordinary. Not conventionally attractive—”

“water y’talkin’ about? i think you should be a little more s-pacific...”

“Kck—” Lune grits her jagged teeth, whiskered brows furrowing as deep as the Mariana trench. “You’re just proving my point-! You got those annoying jokes, and you never take things seriously! How the hell does June put up with you?”

Sans chuckles, utilizing his hands to shrug.

“maybe she’s just not as crabby as you can be,” he answers, his features consumed by another wave of smugness.

“...”

A prolonged groan mixed with fatigue rolls over the cat’s golden tongue, her pupils rising to the ceiling, teasing the likelihood of rolling her eyes. She denies herself the satisfaction and merely returns her impassive gaze back to Sans.

“...tch- whatever. Just keep me out of it,” mutters the monster, who reclines into her seat.

“...”

Aimlessly kicking his feet under the table, Sans stares back at Lune—who remains persistent in not glancing his way—before he pivots his head entirely to half-heartedly admire the atmosphere. A variety of voices fill the restaurant: loud and indistinct, honeyed and brusque, high-pitched and dull. Most struggle with interlacing each other, fighting in a war of sonority within the building.

The stout human and feline monster entered the scene roughly an hour ago, one bitter and irritated while the other was indifferent to the atmosphere before them. Regardless, Sans thought it would be a great idea if he received his brother’s advice and took Lune out on an o-fish-al date, considering she rarely wanted to pop out when he and June started dating. When she first emerged from June’s subconscious, it... didn’t exactly go the way Sans expected it to.

Immediately, Lune sprung at him and pinned him on the floor, her fangs dripping with an abundance of glossy, sinewy drool. Her unrelenting stare held a malice that practically haunted him for the following nights. He didn’t know he would genuinely fear for his life when facing a monster—he hardly ever had trouble with them before—so he thought Lune wouldn’t be so different.

He regretted his words within a second.

June supposedly fought Lune for the control of the SOUL in that moment, overwhelming her with piercing headaches and numbing every imperceptible nerve in her body. Lune fought desperately to maintain her control. Clawed at her own face and wrestled with herself for the authority of her SOUL, but she inevitably lost to June’s strength and retreated to her subconscious.

“Hhaa-... hhf... hmph...”

June slowly turned to Sans. When he really thought about it... that was the first time he saw her drop her smile out of fear... she dreaded what would happen if she ever let Lune out again.

“...maybe-... maybe we should–” June worriedly lowered her eyes–“postpone... an official meeting... with Lune...” she mumbled, anxiously dropping her head between her shoulders.

Now, after enduring a year and six months of facing Lune on several occasions, the two remain seated across from each other. Lune sits with her arms crossed at her chest, wearing a cream-colored crop top with straps running up her chest, over her collarbones, and behind her neck. Situated around her waist is a dark brown flowy skirt with sunflowers sutured around the edge of the fabric. In Lune’s defense, this was the outfit June begged her to go out in...

Sans, however, unwinds in his seat whilst wearing a simple white button up—multitudes of folds practically carved in the material considering it’s been sitting at the base of his closet for an unspecified amount of time—and a plain gray jacket. His legs are dressed in black slacks that easily pass for a pair of dress pants, not that anyone called him out on them yet.

“...”

Lune’s posture slightly caves in, her glowing eyes flitting back to Sans’s ordinary expression. When the man catches her curious gaze, he allows his grin to widen. She grimaces and tears her gaze away.

...you’re not going to... say anything?

Tch- why should I? He’s just being weird and...

Again, the female monster guides her skeptical eyes to the human across from her. As she suspects, his cerulean eyes remain locked on her facial features, a look of amusement and mirth twinkling across his face.

Staring.

Blankness quickly takes over Lune’s features, her eyes boring into the fish tank just behind the counter of Sans’s head.

He’s trying to be sweet! He likes you!

Ew... I’d rather... not deal with that.

You used to be super mean when it came to humans, but you’ve gotten better at it!

It’s obvious he’s changed your mind!

Tch-

Did you forget that kids used to throw sticks and rocks at us for being us?

...

Did you forget that Caleb can’t see out of his left eye now because of humans?

I-...

Humans killed cats and rabbits for generations. Who’s to say we’re not next?

Hh-He’s different, Lune! He wouldn’t hurt a-a fly!

You’re a fool. He could become a threat just like—

scchhhhhhhhhhhhh-

Mm—

scchhhhhhhhh-

Wh-

schhhhhh-

Lune blinks out of her acrimonious trance when a distinct shuffling takes place before her, her eyes frantically searching around her as if the culprit is a neighboring table. Soon, however, Lune directs her bemused gaze to the only possible suspect. She stares him down momentarily before batting her eyes down to witness his arm gradually stretching across the table.

The space between her whisker brows decreases, her ears slouching reluctantly, a distinct look of perplexity written all over her furry features. She notices his hand remains plastered atop a square-shaped napkin, further inciting her bemusement.

“...?” Lune stays silent, but her lips momentarily part, as if she means to drop a puzzled comment, though nothing ever leaves her.

Sans’s lids squint with childish glee, eyes locked in on Lune’s twisted features, finding her bewilderment utmost amusing. Quickly, he peels his hand off of the plain white napkin only to recoil his entire posture back to his side of the table.

“...hah?” Is all that Lune manages to utter out.

Opting to ignore the evident glee written on Sans’s face, Lune hesitantly lowers her hand and clasps the napkin. Her yellow finger beans run over the floppy material of the napkin, noticing certain characters are etched into the flatness, a faint note of ink drifting across the pad of her sensitive nose. Upon observing the scent of pen ink, Lune sets her attention onto the napkin itself, creasing the fur between her vibrissae as she concentrates on the written message.

“i’d fuck you silly over this table if nobody else was here.”

“...”

Lune reads it again. Then again. Hoping she misread; skipped a few letters, perhaps.

No...

It definitely says “i’d fuck you silly over this table if nobody else was here”.

My... how bold...

Ew.

Reluctance consumes Lune’s movement as she slowly looks back at the ostensibly grinning man before her, his lids barely hanging. Lune is entirely silent, too starstruck and disturbed to come up with a snarky reply. The napkin remains flopped over the back of her twitching digits, the scribbled words gawking back at Sans although upside down—it almost makes his grin widen.

“...you don’t even have a pen on you,” Lune bluntly states. “...so how the hell did you write this?”

“guess you could say i’d be an ink-credible magician, huh?” Sans snorts, his tubby body gradually leaning forward until he can easily set his elbows on top of the table. “i thought it’d be a pretty fine point gag, y’know.”

“...” She parts her lips before sealing them shut. Seconds later, she peels them open again to speak, “You’re fuckin’ annoying, y’know that?”

“yep. my number one hobby,” he remarks, snapping his fingers before finger gunning the aggravated cat. “eyyyy... when’s our food comin’? i’m kinda hungry. you’d expect them ta bring out some bread, huh? that’s the yeast they could do.”

“Kckk—”

Shut up. Shut up. Shut up.

“didn’t you order the egg soup?”

Shut up. Shut up. Shut up. Shut up.

“i’m eggs-pectin’ it’ll be out here soon,” Sans chuckles. “if they don’t bring us some food, i’ll just keep makin’ these stupid jokes ‘til you crack up.”

“...”

Stiffness takes over Lune’s facial features, her eyes boring themselves into space while her lips are drawn thin. Her right ear flicks at the air repeatedly, as if fencing off a pesky insect attempting to land on her fur. Soon, the cat’s tail curls repeatedly, swishing and twisting at her side like a snake held in a chokehold.

He’s not a threat...

Her eyes slightly widen, wrinkles itching the subtle bridge of her nose and revealing bits of her fangs as she grimaces at the clean-shaven human.

He’s just.

Really.

A n n o y i n g.

“i’m actually enjoying myself,” he remarks, kicking his legs with a look of satisfaction across his face. “y’know... yer really not that bad to be around. sure, it’s also pretty fun makin’ you mad and watching you huff and puff like a big bad wolf. but honestly... you’re a nice change of pace. yer honest... yer pretty resolute. ‘n... y’know. yer...” Sans smiles sheepishly, finally averting his gaze for once before reeling his eyes back to Lune’s puzzled expression.

“you’re... also pretty... pretty. you and juney are pretty,” he admits, raising his shoulders. “even when you’re pipin’ mad, i think you’re pretty to look at.”

“Wh—” Lune winces, her raven-black fur tingling at the base of each follicle she possesses until suddenly... she appears poofy to the human.

Sans flits his attention to her current state, glancing up and down at her fluffiness, unable to resist the knowing grin from spreading across his lips. He rests his fleshy cheeks into the comfort of his palms, practically getting comfortable in his seat while witnessing the feline monster toil with herself after receiving his words of adoration.

“O-Oi-! I’m not... gonna fall for that. You could trick June with that kind of talk, but yy-you won’t get me,” Lune grumbles, firmly crossing her arms over her chest in the manner of a fussy toddler.

“what kinda talk?” Sans hums, gradually letting the weight of his left cheek take over his palm, leading him into cocking his head to the side. “y’mean like... if i told you i love it when your eyes sparkle like the wishing well star cluster... lookin’ at your eyes feels way better than star gazing, too.”

Lune’s SOUL twists, settling deep within the pits of her stomach (if she technically owned one), where it continues to squirm uncomfortably. She shakes slightly, grumbling curses to herself while squeezing her eyes shut and turning her head away.

“Tch-... you just... sound stupid... a-and corny...”

Sans chuckles, “and you sound a little starstruck.”

What the hell is goin’ on? Did he just turn this all on me?

“Y—”

“You-!”

Lune winces when a voice cuts through the atmosphere, her ears instinctively twisting and folding back to protect her sensitive hearing. Her posture adjusts itself while she remains seated, luminous golden eyes quickly searching the room for the source of the voice.

Pivoting her head the instant she catches movement in the corner of her eyes, Lune faces her left, where she witnesses a short-haired human woman with smooth olive skin march up to their table, her steps clearly indicating she means to address Sans. Lune sees the woman is wearing a juniper dress, the fabric hugging the woman’s body and outlining her alluring curves whilst the puffy material sewn across the bosom of her dress allows enough room for the imagination.

The woman has dark brown hair and keeps her hair styled in a soft pixie cut; a means of displaying her innate confidence and authoritative personality. Her dark eyes fall to Sans’s face, recognizing a momentary look of disbelief mixed with a hint of bewilderment.

Much like Lune, Sans flinches upon meeting eyes with the person he did not think he would ever encounter again... his ex-boss. His hairless brows briefly meet at the bridge of his nose before they part once more, discomfort flaring within the confinement of his SOUL. He was looking forward to this date night, too...

“oh...” mumbles the bald man, his lids hanging lethargically.

“You’ve got a lot of nerve showing your face to me after what you DID-!” The woman shouts, finally stepping up to Sans’s side and slamming her palm onto the surface of their table. “Do you have ANY idea what you did to me?! You and all those other brainless fucking pigeons!”

Lune blinks before she hardens her gaze, eyeing this human with restricted cynicism as she barks at her date of the night. The feline monster’s tail stills its winding movement, lying lax at her side and dangling off the edge of her chair. Now, a persistent agitation scratches at the back of Lune’s mind... likely originating from the white bunny monster grumbling defensively in her subconscious.

What is this human saying? Those aren’t very nice words!

The human woman firmly stabs the table with her finger, glaring down at Sans, whose expression remains rather composed as he gawks back up at his once-supervisor. Her bulged eyes stare at Sans, miniscule crimson filaments snaking into the whites of her eyes, nostrils flared as she angrily huffs.

“You all think you were some righteous gang of heroic icons for getting me kicked off the executive board? It’s not like that company would’ve hurt without those dollars! Ohh, but you ass-kissing saps couldn’t handle getting your feelings hurt every once in a fucking while. Knowing you, you’d have probably needed those bills just as badly as I did!”

“...i was banking on them to fire you sooner cos of that nasty “charisma” you got there. finding out you were involved in some good ol’ embezzlement, though, was actually a bonus,” Sans responds, his smile stagnant, though a devilish color flashes in his eyes.

As much as she refuses to flatter Sans for his dry yet witty remarks, Lune finds herself blinking dumbly—ears unconsciously flattening against her head—a brief urge to snicker at his words rushes through her. Her tail curls with a lively energy, stirring her raven fur on the side of her thigh.

...that was a little funny.

See!

Doesn’t-... it doesn’t mean anything!

Your SOUL did a little flutterrr...

Sh-Shut up!

“You think this is a fucking joke?! I lost everything because of you and your convoluted friends!” The woman hisses, batting her hands through the air. A disgruntled huff flies past her ear, drawing her venomous gaze to the feline monster, whose radiant golden eyes glare back with the same level of venom. “And, of course, you brought your freak of a girlfriend here. I knew only a fucking monster would wanna date an obese smart-ass like you.”

Sans spies a distinct jerk from the corner of his eye, watching Lune defensively twist her head and upper body to face the bigoted woman. Out of concern over how Lune chooses to retaliate, Sans merely lets out a dry chuckle and rests his cheek on his flattened knuckles, peeking up at his ex-boss with one eye open.

“i’m sure you get lotsa dates with that heavyset attitude of yours,” he remarks, cerulean eye twinkling with an underlying mischief.

The woman’s fair toned face evolves into a deep shade of red, streaks of her dark hair fall out from her once tidied hairstyle, framing her face. Intricate wrinkles are etched above the bridge of her nose, nostrils flaring uncontrollably, and her eyes now stretched as wide as they can be—blood vessels visibly peeping out within the whites of her eyes.

“WHY YOU PIECE OF—!”

Sans’s smug smile drops, his fist falling down onto the surface of their table. For a moment, he panics, witnessing the woman promptly turn. He expected a punch or a slap at first... having winced the second she moved. Instead, Sans’s panic magnifies when his attention is caught by the sight of her digits curling around a cool glass of water—beads of liquid garnishing the circumference of the cup. With a wall sitting directly beside Sans, the human male realizes his fate is doomed by a frigid glass of clear water mixed with hints of lemon, raising a hand to his face to brace for the shock.

Creeak—

! SPLASH !

“...”

“...?”

Keeping his eyes squeezed shut, Sans holds his breath in suspense, knowing he is bound for an impromptu shower... though not a drop of water hits him. Astounded gasps and murmurs crash over the atmosphere like a wave, further perplexing the clean-shaven human, who reluctantly guides his hand away from his face.

“hh-... huh?”

Plip...

Plop...

Plip...

Standing in front of Sans, and effectively taking the cold splash of the water, is Lune. Water seeps into the fabric of her top and skirt, gradually clinging onto her fur, which is now just as soaked. Her fur—saturated with ice-cold water—shines beneath the azure brilliancy of the restaurant, unable to cling onto the descending drops of fluid. Lune’s furry cheeks now sag with an abundance of water adhering to each strand of hair on her face.

Lune’s ears slowly unfold, turning in order to reveal their soft pink skin to the red-faced woman, the golden hue garnishing the tips dramatically dimmed along with her eyes.

Sans’s eyes widen, shock flowing through him and sending him into a state of pure silence. His lips remain parted, but no sound ever escapes him. He cannot summon a single thought. Seeing Lune standing before him, drenched in the water that was intended to hit him, stupefies Sans. He was so convinced she loathed everything about him. Loathed him.

Why take this onslaught for him?

“...” Lune blankly stares at the enraged woman, confining any signs of discomfort within her SOUL. She feels water trickle down every thread of fur on her face until every drop congregates at the apex of her chin, plummeting down to soak into her cream-colored shirt.

“Wh—” The woman stands tall, lowering the glass she tightly clasps in her hand.

Sans shimmies himself closer to the outer edge of his seat, hoping to reach his hand out to Lune. He worriedly lifts his gaze, aiming his focus onto the back of her head.

“lu... -ne...?” He tests his voice.

She slightly turns her head, glancing down at Sans from the corner of her eye.

“...still wondering why I hate humans?” Lune utters, paws now dangling at her sides.

Parting his lips, Sans promptly attempts to give Lune a response, though he quickly finds nothing comes to him at the moment. He merely gawks up at her with wide cerulean eyes, awe written all over his face and deeming him silent. His hand hovers in the air. A pitiful attempt to help Lune despite the fact he wields nothing appropriate to help dry her off.

“...i-...”

With disappointment flashing across her eyes, Lune turns away and starts treading on a path to the exit, abandoning Sans and an eerily silent crowd. Her tail dangles behind her, brushing against the rough texture of the black and blue carpet settled beneath her. Nothing the stout human male at the table says behind her breaks her pace out of the restaurant. Every desperate yell of her name or stuttered “waits” goes unheard by the time she pulls the door open and strolls out into the dark streets.

“oof-!” Sans exclaims as he stumbles out of his seat, practically shoving the culprit of this entire fiasco out of his way only to tread the same path Lune took to leave the building. “ll-lune! w-wait!”

“Wh-?! I wasn’t done-!” The woman yells, stomping her foot as she pivots her entire body on one heel. She curls her digits tightly around the glass, its contents now emptied out.

“O-Oi...”

“That was a disaster...”

“Yeah... and that woman was being totally disrespectful...”

“Hmph... honestly, I would’ve been embarrassed if I were her.”

“Ruining an innocent couple’s dinner.”

“What...” The woman hesitantly turns her head, eyeing the numerous tables of monsters and humans alike. She spies several distasteful looks from neighboring tables, unable to understand why her hands now shake at her sides. “What are you—”

“Not only did you harass them, but you practically assaulted that poor woman!”

“Sh-She’s not a woman! She’s- she’s just a-... a stupid mm-monster! Are you people serious?”

“You should be ashamed of yourself...”

“Ma’am, we’re going to have to ask you to leave the premises. You’ve been causing a disturbance and compelled our customers to leave our restaurant. Please, come with me.”

“WH-?! I didn’t do anything wrong! I was entitled to finishing my personal business! Wh-?! Hh-Hey-! Don’t fucking touch me! Wh-?!” The woman shrieks as two waiters extend their arms behind her and gently guide her to the exit of the restaurant, where she happens to match eyes with Sans, who has a gentle smile spread across his face whilst he gives the restaurant one last glance.

“YOU-! You’ll fucking pay for this! YOU’LL FUCKING PAY, I SWEAR TO YOU-!” The short-haired woman promptly shouts, hysterically thrashing between the waiters meticulously restraining her.

Sans lingers in silence for a moment, observing how furiously his ex-boss flails about between the crowd of people attempting to calm her down. He stares before allowing a smile to stretch across his lips.

“guess you got served anyway, huh?” The short man remarks, slipping his hands into the pockets of his jacket. With a suave mannerism he rarely ever possesses, Sans turns away and approaches the exit.

𝐓𝐨 𝐁𝐞 𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐮𝐞𝐝… (1/3)

#undertale fic #canon x oc #eventual smut #angst #romance #drama #undertale sans #human!sans #x oc #speciest?#ut fic #shameless simp

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wyverewings · 1 year

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Wyvere Reviews All the Monster Hunter Monsters (Fanged Beasts)

Welcome back to me reviewing all the monsters of Monster Hunter! (Well, most of them) Today, I'm reviewing the Fanged Beast class! Why so early? Well... I prefer reptiles over mammals, so I'm gonna get this over with so I can finish with my favored monsters.

Something kinda funny about Bulldrome is that its weaker counterpart, Bullfango, was originally a Herbivore class monster. With the advent of Fanged Beasts, it progressed to a more prestigious class of monster. Anyway, Bulldrome is a pretty bog standard bull monster, but those big tusks are cool. 5.5/10

A more fantastical looking monster, Blangonga is the first of three monkey monsters introducing the Fanged Beasts. And they're a pretty cool monkey monster! I like the whiskers and face spikes. 6.5/10

Congalala kinda takes a toilet humor direction, as it attacks by farting. Whether that is a boon or flaw of this monster depends on how much you like toilet humor, which for me, I think it can be funny sometimes. The design does work with the abilities, with the hippo face adding to the goofiness of the monster (also, that makes the potency of the farts worrying, considering the dangerousness of hippos). 6/10

The third of the monkey trio, Rajang is one of the most powerful monsters of Monster Hunter aside from the Elder Dragons. And they're a pretty intimidating monster! Again, I prefer the more reptilian monsters, but this is still a pretty dang cool monster, 7/10.

We have another trio, these ones being bears! Arzuros is the most bear-like of the bunch, but they've got some lovely reptilian scales for flavor! 7/10

Lagombi is supposed to be a rabbit-bear (a rabbear?), but they've got some nice armored plating as well! It's a pretty weird design, but that's what makes it shine! 6/10, no lizard elements, but still neat.

My favorite of the Bear Trio, however, is Volvidon, mainly because the bear elements are obscured by elements from other creatures, namely armadillos, crocodiles, and stag beetles! All those details make the design so interesting and fun, and I love it! 7.5/10, probably my favorite of the Fanged Beasts!

We're taking a break from bears with Gammoth, a furry armored elephant monster! It's quite a majestic beast, which of course is fitting with real world elephants! 7/10

If you've been missing the monkeys, Kecha Wacha has you covered! They're even weirder than Congalala, with a tapir-like snout and arm membranes allowing them to glide. But my favorite part are those wonderful ears. Those spikes give of such a unique vibe! 7/10, my favorite of the monkeys by far!

...and they aren't even our weirdest monkey! The wyvern-like appearance of Bishaten (which... kinda sounds like bishonen, which is kinda funny) is quite common in Monster Hunter, but not one that the Fanged Beasts has played with yet. It almost makes me wonder if this is the result of convergent evolution. Not only that, but they also have an extra arm with their tail! It's bizarre, but a good kind of bizarre. 7/10

Bombadgy is probably one of the cutest Fanged Beasts, as well as one of the least mammalian. I suppose they're heavily based on a tanuki, but they've got no fur, and also some spikes all over their body! 6/10, I wanna hug it.

We have yet another bear monster with Goss Harag! And they take that archetype in an interesting direction with an oni motif and also the ability to form their arm into an ice sword. Overall, a pretty badass monster! 7/10

Last but certainly not least, we have Garangolm, who only really appears like a Fanged Beast because of their gorilla face. The rest of them resembles a Brute Wyvern much more, which of course is a boon with my tastes in monsters. 7.5/10

#wyvere rambles #monster hunter #wyvere reviews monster hunter

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zeydaan-isabella · 1 year

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28 Zeys Later

Commission for and story by GreyHawk89 - where a favour of transformation spirals out of control.

Isabella's shift in the café kitchen was almost over, they carefully dried the last plate and put it away. "Ha, finally!" Blaze, at the other end of the kitchen, nodded. "Rough day." Izzy giggled a little. "Well, we're had worse. Time for me to go home and spend the rest of the night catching up on my She-Ra binge. Just lemme sign out and get 'changed' and go." The valstrax caught the emphasis on a certain word and rolled her eyes. The yellow Fey Dragon fiddled with the little computer hanging on the wall that had been designed to resemble a retro punch-clock device. "All done being Izzy for today." Isabella took a step back and closed their eyes. They concentrated, focusing on the the magic core deep within themself. The 'gathered' it, preparing it. Izzy imagined their body's original shape, the sensations that came with having it, moving in it, living with it. Then they released the power they'd built up. Somewhere within them, where magic energy and physical matter merged, a switch was flipped. All the little genetic and mystical 'codes' Isabella was composed of went from 'reading' Fey Dragon to 'reading' Werewolf. In a matter of seconds, all of the tiny velvety yellow fur coating their body coarsened and elongated, re-coloring into shades of black and grey. Their human hair on the top of their scalp remained the same length, but, except for the red tips, darkened from pink to black. Izzy's long dragon tail thinned and retracted as the growing fur turned it into a canine brush. The pink moth-like wings dispelled as the process of magic neared its completion. The nostrils moved slightly closer together as the skin around them grew black, moist, and bumpy, distinct from the rest of the snout. At the rear of the head golden horns retracted back into the skull. The little cartilage ridges covering hearing membranes lengthened and expanded greatly, growing into fuzzy wolf ears. Zeydaan stood where Isabella had been seconds ago, yawning a canine yawn. In fact, Zeydaan's jaws opened so wide as they yawned that they let out a cute little squeak in the manner of canines who yawn too wide. Despite being an armored dragon from another dimension who could shoot lasers from her wings, Blaze gave a coo of delight akin to an ordinary human woman, reached over and gently dug her clawed fingers into the fur and hair at the base of Zeydaan's eras, scritching away. Zey gave a surprised happy noise and leaned into the scritches. A random person just walking up to a furry anthro and starting petting them without consent was considered inappropriate at best and mild assault at worst, but Blaze was a friend. After a moment, Zey broke contact by pulling their had away. "Heh. nice. Probably should get going now though." They took a step and a half towards the door before spotting a curious expression on Blaze's face. "What is it?" "Oh! Uh." Despite having scales, the magic that had originally transformed Blaze from a feral dragon the size of a private plane into one of a more human size and shape both physically and mentally allowed her to blush. "What's it like?" "'It' what?" "Shapeshifting like that. Changing your body however you want. I mean, the one time it happened to me, I wasn't in a proper mental place to fully appreciate it. too busy panicking and falling out of the sky as my brain overflowed with all these new abstract thoughts of greater existence and personal identity." Blaze tapped her forefingers together nervously. "Oh, it's a-" Zeydaan paused, realizing this was going to be like trying to explain the color red to a blind person. "Hmm.." Then, Zeydaan had an idea! Zeydaan had a wonderful, awful idea! I'll dress up as Santa Claus and steal all the decorations in Whoville! No, wait, that's not it... "It's hard to use words to explain it. But if you trust me, I can show you. Err, your shift is almost over too, right?" "Oh? Yea?" Blaze's wings flickered on and off. "I'm gonna turn you into me!" "You wot now mate!?" The wolfish smile on Zeydaan's face was confident-perhaps a little too confident. "Ever since my dragon-side came out, I've been training myself extensively to help me use it better. I'm pretty sure I can infuse enough of my magical essence-pattern-thing into you to temporarily make you a copy of me." Blaze shuffled with nervous excitement. "That sounds cool, but are you sure it's safe? Just temporary?" Zeydaan's confidence wavered slightly. "I think so... my other friends have also been helping me train, so I do have some practice with this sort of stuff. Some. so far. I'll give you an extra 'charge' my energy so that you can change back to yourself at a time of your choosing, rather than just wait for the change to wear off on it's own at some random, possibly inconvenient time, okay?" The valstrax was growing slightly less nervous-excited and slightly more nervous-nervous but still nodded after a pause. It was nice to see Zeydaan so giddy about themself, so unlike the shy, almost mopey wolf who they'd first met a couple of years ago. "O-okay!" "Alright, just stand still and think about me, really, really, hard! I think it'll help!" Zeydaan reached out and placed a hand on Blaze's shoulder. They concentrated on the magic inside them, much as they had just a few minutes ago to switch between their two forms, but this time focusing on Blaze's draconic body instead of their own 'Isabella' body. They felt the little tendrils of they magic extending out of themself and into Blaze, threading itself though and into the other dragon's morphic field. When they thought it was 'enough', they 'expended' the charge. Their arm spasmed and glowed an odd blue color, black veins appearing on it. A flash of pink-grey light blinded Zey for a moment, and when they opened their eyes, they found themself looking at... themself. "Aha! success!" The new 'Zeydaan' blinked too, wolf muzzle opening and closing. "Wuzzle? Awva Wuff mouff nao?" Fuzzy hands poked a fuzzy face curiously. "Yup, you have a wolf mouth now. It worked!" Zeydaan puffed with pride. Nothing had gone wrong! "Just take a moment to focus yourself. I'm been switching between being a werewolf and dragon for awhile now, but you should probably sit down for a bit first." The newly Zeydaanified Blaze wobbled on her wolf-feet, clearly being unbalanced but her lack of wings, shorter tail, and covering of fur instead of scales. The ears twitched wildly, so far different from her old dragon-ears. "Wererf!" she agreed. "Furrfle. Ur merment." the last couple of words sounded more, well, word-like, so she was apparently getting used to her new teeth. She took unsteady steps to the closest chair and sat down awkwardly, not accustomed to doing so without adjusting for having wings and a longer tail. Zeydaan contemplated their duplicate's newfound fluffiness and grinned. "One good scritch deserves another!" They reached out and started scrtiching away behind Blaze's ears just as she'd done to them earlier. Blaze made garbled Happy Wolf Noises. Scritches Good! Amrin chose that moment to step into the kitchen. "Hey, now that we're all closed up we need to- Um, Zey, why are there two of you?" The real Zeydaan waved to identify themself. "Oh, I'm me! That one is Blaze!" They quickly noted that that was clearly not enough of an answer for their boss. "Uh, I changed after work was over, and Blaze asked me what it was like being able to be something other than a dragon, so.... I tried to show her. Manually. With her permission!" Blaze tried to stand. "Zhaysh reyght! Itsh oakey, jussh wered." Amrin was making little hand motions that indicated a strong need to commit some strangulations. She took a deep breath and let it out. "...Oh-kay then... and you're SURE everything will be back to normal in time for work tomorrow? Blue is still hibernating for a few more days. If Blaze is gonna be late for work because she still doesn't have to laser-wings to rocket herself here on time!" Zeydaan gave a very canine yelp of fear and nodded vigorously. Blaze, unfortunately, was not paying as much attention. This wasn't so bad, now that she was beginning to adjust to it. She could feel what she guessed was the 'charge' of magic Zeydaan had mentioned, like a bubble somewhere inside her that could be 'popped' with a strong enough mental 'poke'. Then, Blaze had an idea! Blaze had a wonderful, awful idea! I'll dress up as Santa Claus and- no, wait, not that. I wonder, how close a copy of Zeydaan am I now? Do I have their powers? Could I use this charge is a different way? Like, say, turning another person into yet another Zeydaan? Maybe my parkour friend Eli would be interested in what it's like to be a werewolf and all that... Fortunately or unfortunately, she chose not to vocalize her plan to the others, merely watched them. Talking was tricky right now anyway. They were also too distracted to pay her any mind at the moment. Zey licked their wolf-chops hungrily. "Saaay..." they slobbered, "is there any chance you could let me have a couple of the unsold snacks from the fridge? I could use an energy boost for the recent use of my magic." Amrin raised an eyebrow but acquiesced to her worker's request. "Sure, why not." she grumbled. "Mind you, I'll watch to make sure you don't go into another feeding frenzy like LAST time." Just as the others walked over towards the big refrigerator Amrin waved her other employee off home for the night. Blaze waved back "Rwokay! See you bothk rrater!" She warbled with her increasing mastery of her wolf-mouth. As she went out the door, she vaguely heard a shout of "Wait, stop! Not the whole chocolate cake! No, not all the pies! Just one!" In her enthusiasm, Blaze failed to consider two things- Firstly, while she did in deed have a copy of Zeydaan's powers to a small degree, she had no training in using them whatsoever. Secondly, that sometimes, when you make a copy of a copy, it's not as well, sharp, as the original... 28 ZEYS LATER... It was mid-afternoon when Sapphira Azula Cerulea 'Blue' MacGregor woke up from her long winter nap with a mighty dragon-yawn. "Has it been almost month already? Ugh, morning mouth! Bad enough after one day, but after twenty-eight or so!? ...I need mouthwash. Strong mouthwash!" The Scottish Flood dragon pulled herself out of the bed she'd been dozing in in a near-coma. Despite the name for it, she only needed to go into 'Winter Hibernation once every five or six years, during especially cold weather. Or due to sheer laziness building up to near toxic levels if she ignored it for too long. She walked into her bathroom and spend a great deal of time catching up on various toiletries and grooming that she needed for feeling and looking her best. By the time she was ready to go out in public again, it was late afternoon. Fortunately, work was not far at all, less if she flew, but she swore that local air laws had been designed for bias against winged people. Oh well! She stepped outside in her glorious French Maid style outfit and strutted her stuff. As she was walking to work, she vaguely noted that the streets of Mailor City were oddly empty today, but she put it out of her mind by humming a cute song she'd heard on the radio before going to sleep. Then, when she was still a few blocks away from the café something black, white and grey stepped out onto the sidewalk right in front of her, finally grabbing her attention. It was Zeydaan, wearing their Maiden Menagerie uniform, walking slowly and awkwardly, a spaced-out expression on their face. Blue blinked. Usually, Zey transformed into Isabella before going to work then changed back into werewolf, but there was no actual rule about what form they needed to assume while on the clock. "Hey Zey! How's it going? Is your shift over already today?" She glanced at the orange sunset sky. "Seems early." Zeydaan perked up upon realizing they'd been noticed. "Scritches?" they practically begged, tail wagging like a friendly, mundane canine "Huh..." Blue was confused. Zey was not usually a touchy-feely person. Still, they'd always looked sooo fluffy, and she'd been curious what their fur felt like. "Uh, okay?" She reached forward and stuck her claws into the soft hairs around the ears near the back of the head and began scritching away. It was very pleasant, and Zeydaan was making happy little whimpering noises. Just then, a second Zeydaan walked up to them. They were wearing a slightly torn pink t-shirt, ripped up sneakers, and the rear of their blue jeans had a tail bursting out of a hole. "Scritches?' they asked hopefully, seeing their twin on the receiving end of some. "What?" Blue said confusedly. "Why are there two of you?" "Scritches," the two Zeydaans moaned in unison. Blue yanked her hand free from the first Zeydaan's fur and backed away nervously. "What!?" Her fingers were all itchy, they flexed under their own power. She pulled them closer to her face, eyes flicking back and forth between her them and the approaching Zeydaans. Her hands spasmed, fur was sprouting out from her scales. "What's going on!?" The itchiness was spreading all over her body. Her hands, now covered with grey fur and with black claws just like the ones on the Zeys' hands. "Argh, soo itchy!" Her wings and tail flexed wildly. They no longer fully under her control, and were going slightly numb. There was a wrenching sensation at the base of her long tail like it was starting to pull into her, shrinking down. Long black hairs were sprouting from the tip. Likewise, little holes were painlessly appearing in her wing membranes, as though she was being eaten by invisible moths. The tip of her snout felt cold and wet. She furiously clawed at herself, ripping her clothes. "OH! I need, I need... SCRITCHES!"

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bacchicly · 2 years

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My kid was home sick this week and used the time to rewatch Neverbeast a couple times for research and then sketch out a few designs of the costume they envision. The most important thing this let me know was the silhouette they are going for - think... "I want a girl with a short skirt and a looooooooooong jacket"

(My kid always wants Hallowe'en to be glam - so why not? Last year the costume was a "disco sock-hop bunny" complete with a black and teal dress with a crinoline, a teal fur pompom tail, sequined ears and a green sequined jacket..the year before "a bear going to a tea party" another fancy dress, furry 4 inch heeled boots...and yes my 7 yo could walk in them...and a variety of fancy accessories.)

This year we found a grey coat and a grey dress, wings, boots, and a furry hat to serve as the base for the Neverbeast costume. We also bought armature wire for tail, ears and horns...an air-dry modelling compound... And glow in dark and metallic fabric paint to do the markings. Oh and fake iridescent nails and sun glasses to build something of a mask around. We also found a key chain Tinkerbell...now I have to figure out a small Faun too.

I am very pleased and most important the costume will have both a version for indoors (sans mask) and a warmer one for outdoors...since it regularly snows on hallowe'en and plus there is a skating lesson in costume...

There's still work to do...and facepaint to acquire ..but having the bones two weeks out is reassuring.

#parenting #personal #neverbeast #tinkerbell and the legend of the neverbeast

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ainews · 3 months

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Fiberglass is a widely used material in various industries, ranging from construction to automotive manufacturing. It is lightweight, strong, and durable, making it a popular choice for many applications. However, there is one unexpected industry that has found a unique use for fiberglass – the furry community.

Furries, individuals who have a strong interest in anthropomorphic animal characters, have been using fiberglass for their elaborate costumes and props for years. These costumes, known as fursuits, can cost thousands of dollars and require intricate designs and construction techniques. Comptrollers, or individuals responsible for managing the finances of these furry enthusiasts, have also jumped on board the fiberglass trend.

There are several reasons why comptrollers have embraced fiberglass for their furry clients. Firstly, fiberglass is a cost-effective material compared to other options such as foam or latex. It is relatively easy to work with, can be molded into different shapes and sizes, and is readily available. This makes it an ideal choice for creating large and complex fursuit parts, such as heads and tails.

Furthermore, fiberglass offers durability and longevity, making it a smart investment for both furries and their comptrollers. Fursuits can be worn for hours at a time, often in crowded and active environments such as conventions and parades. This can take a toll on the costume, but fiberglass helps to withstand wear and tear, ensuring that the costume lasts longer and requires fewer repairs.

Another reason why comptrollers prefer fiberglass is its versatility. It can be used to create a range of effects and finishes, such as a smooth and shiny surface or a more textured look. This allows furries to customize their costumes to their liking and bring their characters to life.

Fiberglass also offers practical advantages for comptrollers. It is lightweight, meaning it is easier and cheaper to transport and store. It is also relatively quick to produce, which is beneficial for comptrollers who have tight deadlines to meet for their clients.

Lastly, the use of fiberglass in fursuit construction has become a trend in the furry community. Many furries strive to have the most realistic and high-quality costumes, and the use of fiberglass helps to achieve this. As a result, comptrollers who supply fiberglass parts for fursuits are seen as providing a top-notch service, enhancing their reputation within the community.

In conclusion, comptrollers have turned to fiberglass as the material of choice for their furry clients' costumes due to its cost-effectiveness, durability, versatility, practicality, and the trend within the community. As the furry community continues to grow and become more mainstream, the demand for fiberglass parts is only likely to increase, solidifying its place as an essential material in the world of furries.

#ai generated #fake news

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acetattoos · 3 months

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Best Pet Tattoo Ideas You'll Ever See

Looking for another tattoo idea? Or is it your first one? Nevertheless, if you are thinking of getting a tattoo related to your pet, you will rarely find anybody questioning your choice! Pet tattoos are definitely an idea one might never regret getting! Dogs, cats, hamsters, or literally whatever you have at home and want a tattoo of, we are all for it! After all, our pets aren’t just animals, they are cherished members of our families. They fill our lives with love, laughter, and countless precious memories. So, it’s no wonder that many of us want to honour their special place in our hearts with pet tattoos.

In this blog, we are exploring some of the best pet tattoo ideas and designs that capture the deep emotional bond we share with our furry companions.

Pet Tattoos Idea: A Heartfelt Expression of Love

Tattoos are certainly a piece of art that we put down on our skins permanently. And for most people, they hold strong emotional meanings connected to them. When it comes to pet tattoos, they serve as an artistic and sweet way to celebrate the unique bond between humans and their animal companions. Here are some heartwarming pet tattoo ideas that embody the love we have for our pets:

Pet Portraits: A lifelike portrait of your pet can capture its essence and personality forever. It’s like having a piece of them with you always.

Paw Prints: Simple yet profound, a tattoo of your pet’s paw print is a touching way to remember their presence and the joy they brought to your life.

Name Tattoos: Your pet’s name, elegantly inked, can serve as a constant reminder of the love and loyalty they shared with you.

Collar and Tags: A tattoo of your pet’s collar with their tags can symbolize the connection you shared and the times you spent exploring the world together.

Memorial Tattoos: If your pet has crossed the rainbow bridge, a memorial tattoo can honour their memory and the profound impact they had on your life.

Pet Tattoo Designs: From the Heart to the Skin

Pet tattoo designs are personal and meaningful. They tell stories of love, companionship, and the incredible bond we share with our pets. Imagine a simple heart-shaped tattoo with your pet’s name inside. It’s a small design, but it holds a universe of emotion. It’s a way of saying, “You’ll always be in my heart.

Or picture a tattoo of a dog’s silhouette with a wagging tail. It’s a joyful reminder of the happiness and positivity our pets bring into our lives. Regardless, whatever pet tattoo designs you are thinking of, we can ink them for you! If you are confused about it, we can help you browse through a collection of unique pet tattoo ideas and designs that you can choose from to get on your skin!

A Bond That Never Fades

Pet tattoos are about preserving the love we have for our pets in a tangible and lasting form. They are about finding solace in knowing that, even if our furry friends aren’t physically with us, they’re forever imprinted on our hearts and skin. When you look at your pet tattoo, you see the wagging tail, the purring, the late-night cuddles, and the countless moments of pure, unfiltered love.

So, whether you’re considering a pet portrait tattoo or a simple paw print, we can do it all for you! With a team of experienced professionals, Ace Tattooz makes sure that we capture the exact emotions you are feeling in the tattoos that we design and ink for you! If you have a pet tattoo idea in mind, book an appointment with our tattoo artists today!

To read full blog visit- Best Pet Tattoo Ideas You'll Ever See

#pet tattoo ideas #pet tattoo

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spines-tvo · 1 year

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So here's another story that just came to me. It might've been in a dream, even, but it was so long ago I forgot. It involves mainly science fiction and also a furry. The furry is human. They are not an animal person. Though, there are animal people in the story. You'll understand as I explain it.

So. The main character is a scientist in robotics. He's developed a robot that can reprogram itself to build or design literally anything he asks for. He once had the brilliant idea to tell it to build more of the robots, so that robot built a robot that was programmed to build more robots, and then those robots built more robots and so on, until he gets millions of robots all able to make whatever he wants. The story takes place years after this, when the robots have designed all of the solutions to humanity's problems. Thanks to these cubes in people's heads, their bodies are set at one age, and are completely immortal. The cubes analyze the host, and if anything seems off, they change the physical structure of the host's body to go back to normal. Parasite? Destroyed. Injury? Immediately fixed. Aging? Not at all. People don't even have periods anymore. These cubes do have a minor cost to them, as the host can not grow muscular and can not have kids, but they won't lose muscle, either.

Because of these cubes, the scientist is seen as a type of deity, since the average person doesn't realize that the scientist didn't make them himself. Now he has a type of imposter syndrome because he has no idea how to do anything the robots do.

This is where the furry comes in. He's an old college friend of the scientist. They were roommates, even though the furry was an art major. After all these years, with the scientist growing more and more secretive and hermit-like, the furry is more of an acquaintance than an actual friend. The scientist is now letting the furry go (after his therapist (robot) advised him to.)

So how does he let the furry go? He sends him into the universe of his dreams, of course. He comes along to say goodbye one last time, and... he accidentally ruins the device he uses to travel between universes.

The two universes are basically the same, the only real difference being the shape of the people, so he walks towards his lab to find... It's not his lab anymore. It's a public lab, with all kinds of people working on all kinds of things. So he finds a secluded place inside to try and fix the device, and meets a rat lady. Yeah. A lab rat. He enjoys the irony. He can't make heads or tails of the device, since he didn't create it, and the rat woman is no help, however, she does listen to him.

Not many people listened to him for a long time, since he was basically seen as the perfect being, with no struggles of his own, and this rat lady actually talked to him like he was an equal. So now he's met a new friend, a real friend who genuinely cares for him, and he begins to realize slowly that he really doesn't need to go home. The robots will continue to make peoples' lives better, and he doesn't need to be there for that. Even though he literally had everything, he didn't really have what he needed, which was someone who not only treated him as an equal, but thought of him as a friend. He decides of his own accord to not create any more robots, and to shut off his cube, though he does begin to help the people of the new world, himself, not relying on robots to do his work.

I promise, this was made years ago and not as a dig on AI generated content, lol.

#story #fiction #science fiction #sci fi #furry

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shnowbilicat · 2 years

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Hero of Storms

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"Hey kiddo! How have you been?"

"Oh damn, look at you! You've grown so much!"

"You HAVE to tell me everything I missed in the decade I was gone!"

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Shnowbilicat is one of my oldest- No, scratch that, she's THE oldest OC I own. She's basically my 'magical-furry girl' transformation back when I was … idk … 10 years old?? Yeah, shit, she's was due for some love, haha X'D

(As a comparison; this was the last art piece I did with her)

And since it's my 25th birthday, I think a little dive in her history is in order~

BAck when I was a kid, I was a huge fan of Pokémon, Digimon and general Anime. I also loved video games, so one day I decided to make something akin to a magical girl anime, but all heroes would fuse with a furry counterpart from another world, with the help of their respective crystals.

Shnow's design started as you see now, a humanoid furry. She was mostly based on Renamon from the design, as you could probably already guess, but with pants and hair and stuff. In the beginning I remember vividly that when the furry form wasn't used, the parts like the tail, ears and stuff would be their own creature; not being an animal, but full on a Tail with eyes, wings and ears X'D

Later on I noticed Eevee being very similar to Renamon; being fox based creatures, so I used its body as a base, slapped Renamon's head on it and that's that.

And on a true accident, the name 'Shnowbilicat' was actually the german name for Persian. As a kid I never realized that, but now here we are and I can't change something that's 15+ years old. I even asked my back then english teacher how to spell 'Snow'; with or without an 'h', and so here we are X'D

As the years flew by, smol animal Shnow grew to be more refined, more cat like, cuz I had cats and a cat companion was cuter.

Shnow was able to control both Ice and Electricity; that's why she's the Hero of Storms! And she also has a sword, based on Inuyasha's big ass sword. And she has wings, cuz wings are cool X33

But as all great things are, Shnow slowly fell into obscurity; well, this version, my smol furry kitten is still here and I draw her sometimes, but this … has been a long time coming.

Shnow has been a role model for my younger self; a big sister I never had, being braver, stronger, looking danger right into the eyes, helping everybody she encounters and never backing down from a fight.

She has returned, and she will never fade away again.

Welcome back, big sis. I hope you're proud of me <3

#shnowbilicat #art

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shirecorn · 3 years

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scuze me i wanna learn to sketch creatures like you do, how would I go about learning that?

Draw from life! Here’s my tips on drawing horses

For other creatures.. well... The one thing that isn’t a tip is just that I grew up obsessed with drawing animals. I’ve been drawing since I could hold a pencil, but only started drawing humans five years ago when I was 20 (which is a WHOLE other story)

The thing that helped the most was studying bones, so if you have access to skulls/skeletons or replicas, get some. Pictures are cool but nothing beats holding the real thing. You can also study 3d models in the calacademy skull gallery

Ok I deleted a page and a half of rambling to get to the Big Tip. There’s something that bothers me a lot in creature design, which I will call “splicing”

Splicing vs blending! Using this handy Minotaur who volunteered his time for us

This is spliced! It’s just an animal head on a human body. Sometimes I will splice things like this but only if it makes sense in the story. My manticores are spliced rather than blended because in my head they’re more of a cursed/magicked mash of creatures than something that developed on its own.

Manny here is going to get another piece spliced on

I chopped off his legs and put bull ones in their place. This adds a little more cohesion and I see it as more believable and less “magical accident.” I don’t like stopping here but I see a lot of horny furries that prefer this, so it definitely has its applications. This is still thoroughly spliced with just two cuts between the two lifeforms.

Here’s where things get less Spliced and more Blended. In a blender, everything gets mixed together and spit out in a smooth concoction. This blender gave him fur all over instead of just on the bull parts. I also changed up his hands and gave him hoof-fingers, but not just straight up bull-feet-for-hands. This is pretty good but still solidly a furry.

This is much closer to blend than splice, now. This is definitely not cow limbs grafted onto a human. The Minotaur was not a human with a bull glued to him, but he was conceived, carried, and born as a half human, half bovine child. His mother was a human and his sire was a bull and his origin was greek mythology so things tend to get Messed Up. Hybridizing animal species/breeds is generally not “Copy of one parent with the body part the other” with the exception of corgi crosses.

Shoulders are one of the last things I see people changing on the splice to blend scale, but it really adds SO much monsterness to your designs. Plus, with lower more animal shoulders, Manny can drop on all fours and sprint more comfortably than Hu-Manny.

While the minotaur is literally described as “head and tail of a bull on the body of a man” I don’t see why that has to be the end of it. Describing a creature with all the detail and care of a field guide is not terribly important when it’s trying to kill you. Bull-man is enough for a warning. Blended, this guy looks a lot more monstery and I can see it charging headfirst to impale me, which is what really counts here.

Now there’s a monster boy! I actually drew this one second after drawing splice stage 1, and can you tell which one was faster, easier, and more fun?

My process is not to slowly add creature parts like above, but to blend them up in my head and put them on the page already blended. But I have a lot of practice so that comes more easily to me!

This doesn’t only work on human + animal, but on any number of combinations with any number of ingredients. Let’s take the fabled Questing Beast, an Arthurian legend from the middle ages described as having

“the head and neck of a snake, the body of a leopard, the haunches of a lion, and the feet of a hart [deer]”

Here’s a spliced version where I cut and glued animals together

This is definitely fun but it doesn’t look like an actual animal, its very obviously a mashed creature. Trying to run with hooves AND paws? Is it predator or prey? Whats with all the clashing patterns?

So let’s turn this splice into a blend. Giving it deer hooves on all four feet because we need some dangerous hoofed animals. The head and neck is gonna be a hybrid of snake and deer with added spots. In fact let’s hybrid the spots themselves to look more like the snake pattern, but spotted and furred all over. The lion haunches are cool but we’ll just take their powerful muscles and keep the lion tail, but put some spots on it. Finally, we’ll make the legs really long so the snake neck doesn’t look out of proportion. Might as well add some little yearling antler nubs from the deer and give it a tiny mane from a juvenile lion.

Now we have a blended Questing Beast

Doesn’t that look nicer and more cohesive? You could even believe it’s a real animal if it wasn’t so absurd.

Spliced creature design is valid and has its place, but to me it always adds an element of uncanny unnaturalness, which is great as a story element!

So have fun! Splice, blend, and invent your own techniques! Try a lot of variety and you’ll eventually find a style that speaks to you.

Creature Design | Patreon | Ko-fi

#splice vs blend #creature design #monster design #minotaur #fantasy biology #questing beast #fantasy evolution #giraffe #shire screams #shire draws #ask #art tips

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whump-whump-baby · 4 years

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So your Fictional Universe has Horses in it

Alternatively: People Ride Horses in Your Fic, and you’re Not Sure What to Do About It

horse rider/owner and baby writer here, throwing you an infodump that will maybe help with the whole ‘There’s a Horse in the Background here but I Don’t Know What to Do With it’ thing I sometimes see in writing!

Inside this infodump: Horse riding, horse care, horse tack (equipment), falling off a horse (and what usually gets injured), horse lingo, and behaviour.

1. Tame that beast (aka, riding the horse)

a couple things here: Getting on the horse, getting off, steering, etc

Honestly, I’m only including this part because I find that a lot of people skip past the whole ‘getting on the horse’ bit and I find it hilarious. It’s not a weird thing but it can be weird to describe. I get it!

Getting On

Experienced riders will always mount from the left side of the horse. It's a weird tradition that doesn’t really make sense anymore, but it’s still followed because most don’t really see a reason to change it. It supposedly dates back to medieval times and has something to do with where a sword would traditionally be hung on a person’s hip- mounting (Putting your foot in the stirrup, grabbing up high on the saddle, pulling yourself up and over while using your foot in the stirrup to help yourself) from the left means you wouldn’t accidentally poke your horse with your sheath. Not sure if this story has any validity to it, but we all still follow the left rule unless we’re specifically getting a horse used to mounting from the other side for whatever reason.

Getting off

I have a bone to pick with this. Nobody gets off their horse by swinging a leg in front of themselves, over the horse’s neck in front of them, and hopping down facing away from their horse. It’s not the safest bet to attempt because 1. It actually requires a lot of hip strength to swing your leg like that without kicking your poor horse in the neck, and 2. It doesn’t give you a legitimate way to hold onto your horse after dismounting, which is inherently unsafe. Even if you are in possession of The World’s Best Behaved Horse Ever, you always want to be holding onto the reins. Riders usually dismount by leaning forward, swinging a leg behind them and over the horse’s butt, pivoting sideways on their stomach, and sliding down off the horse- keeping a hand on the rein and one on the saddle to slow their descent. That way you always have a hand on your wild beast, who may decide at any given time that the nearby grass is more important than standing still for your dismount. Plus, swinging a leg like that is basically impossible in saddles that feature a saddle horn, like a western saddle.

It’s a little hard to see in this photo, but Geralt’s saddle definitely has some kind of high pommel to it- so he’d most likely dismount the normal way. It’s just easier!

If you tried to dismount like that in this western saddle you would definitely bruise something.

In this saddle (a Dressage saddle) you could probably pull it off.. but why?? All that struggle just to slide down on your butt and land funny, sprawled away from your horse. It’s just not worth it.

Steering and Etc.

Believe it or not, most steering movement actually comes from the rider’s weight in the saddle than their grip on the reins. If we’re looking at this from the realm of something like The Witcher (which is probably going to be my go-to media example because it’s still pretty recent) a relaxed turn is going to look like Geralt isn’t doing too much with his upper body, because he’d be weighting his seat bones in the saddle. Despite his saddle looking a little bulky, Roach could definitely feel it and respond accordingly- horses are pretty sensitive little friends and can feel most of what you’re doing up there, including looking down. (Protip, if you’re learning to ride horses, don’t look down- it’ll unbalance your upper body and make you pitch forward, unbalancing your horse and making yourself more likely to fall off)

A good way to have a character look experienced with riding is to describe someone relaxed but upright, shoulders back, hands closed but relaxed on the reins. They don’t have to be bolt upright, but at ease. A good way to describe a character with little to no riding experience would be to describe them as tense, probably hunching forward a little; hands too high or low and reins too long. See the lovely photos below:

A Dressage rider: she’s looking pretty evenly balanced, is sitting tall but not bolt upright, hands are low, elbows relaxed. Wonderful!

A Beginner: Absolutely no hate to beginners! We all have to start somewhere, But there’s definitely a difference in body language between this rider and our dressage rider. (Side note: PLEASE always wear a helmet on a horse, especially if you’re a beginner, good grief)

2. Horse Care

I don’t think too much needs to be said here, but there’s a couple things that are worth noting.

Grooming

Most horses love a good brushing. They’ll even lean into it if you find an itchy spot!

If your character has a ton of experience, grooming their horse makes a lovely backdrop for conversations. Riders usually brush their horses before and after riding, to remove dirt and mud and sweat. Manes and tails are brushed if you want to be detail oriented, and feet should always be picked out (A good chance for Character B to oogle Character A’s butt, if thats the kind of story you’re writing) to remove dirt and stones.

When Not Riding

Your furry partner-in-crime should be untacked and eating grass somewhere. Untacked means all gear removed and put away for the day- in stories like The Witcher, tied to a tree branch or a rest area in a halter is fine. As a horse person it wouldn’t make sense to leave their tack on all night- you’d leave it nearby, but not on them. If your characters are just pausing for a break or something, it’s totally ok- but done for the day? Nah. Let your pony be naked.

Injuries

Horses, like most prey animals, will hide injuries and illness until they physically can’t anymore. Small cuts and scrapes, dependent on where they are, will probably not give a physical response unless you manipulate them somehow (cleaning, applying antibiotics, etc). A horse may show discomfort by a number of signs, but if it really hurts your horse will probably shy away from your touch or may lash out at your hands to keep you from touching it. Signs of discomfort can be pinning their ears back against their head (aka Ow Ow OW, DON’T TOUCH IT, I’m UPSET) to straight up trying to run from you if they think you’re going to attempt to touch it (a more severe reaction for a more severe wound, like a deep cut/laceration/puncture etc). If a horse is in very dire straits you might get no reaction at all- your horse might be hanging its head low, not really responding to your voice or touch, appearing bleary eyed or dull eyed or sleepy. Generally that kind of severe behavior change is considered Very Very Bad and definitely grounds to call a vet for, especially if there’s no sign of physical injury.

3. Horse Tack (Equipment!)

Here’s a quick rundown of horse tack.

All these pieces make up the bridle, reins included.

*Side note- Bits are not cruel, and riders choosing to use them with their horses are not abusive. Bits are a tool riders use to communicate with their horses and there are hundreds of metal finishes, textures, shapes and sizes to fit a horse with a bit that makes them happy and keeps them comfortable. There are some horses who refuse to take bits, and their owners usually turn to a bitless bridle to keep them comfortable- however this is not “kinder” just because of the lack of bit. These bridles are just designed to exert gentle pressure to tell the horse to slow or stop instead of the gentle pressure on the bit. Different horses prefer different things, and none of these things are harmful to the horse if used properly and with care.

This is a diagram of a close contact or Hunter saddle, but the terminology generally applies to all different kinds of saddles. Girths are considered their own piece of tack and not as a part of the saddle.

Riders who are riding consistently usually at least wipe their tack down with a wet cloth after finishing with it for the day. Because tack is almost always leather, well cared for leather lasts a lot longer if cared for. This is also a great thing to have a character talk over in a fic- have them clean tack while having a hard conversation, or maybe show how quick and not-great of a job they do on their tack if they’re angry or trying to get away from another character closeby. Lots of opportunities! (If you really want to get detailed, cleaning usually looks like: a damp cloth to wipe dirt off and then rubbing a leather conditioner into the tack, which may smell lovely or a little weird depending on the brand)

4. Falling off

I see you, whump writers. (and I love you.)

So You Want your Character to Fall Off:

Falling off is rarely graceful. It can be caused by anything from an unexpected trip to your horse spooking at something, to a jump taken at the wrong spot/speed/angle... opportunities are endless. I have fallen off my horse at the walk because he startled at a dog and I slipped to the side, and I have fallen off over jumps, because my horse actively tried to get me off, or because I just wasn’t paying attention and Oops, how’d I get in the dirt? Generally if you’re looking for a reason for your character to fall off, they are endless. If the one at fault is the horse common reasons are the rider becoming unseated and slipping back/forward/sideways by the horse startling (at legitimately anything sometimes, depending on the horse.. let your imagination go wild!) changing speed or direction suddenly. All of these things will affect how your character comes off and how they’ll hit dirt with what body part. IE- pitching forward will probably land you on the top of your shoulders, if you’re lucky- if not, you’ll land on your head. Most people will land on the tops of their shoulders as the instinct to protect their head kicks in, but sometimes gravity is a bitch. It happens.

This is where experience comes in, too- Experienced riders will usually react quicker and will try to save themselves, either grabbing onto their horse’s mane or neck or even just keeping a death grip on the reins as adrenaline kicks in- all of which keeps your upper body higher than your lower and can lead to landing on your bum/side/feet instead of your head. Beginner or inexperienced riders might not react that quickly and end up landing roughly. This is not to say that more experienced riders will always come out less injured than beginners, but that experienced riders sense of self preservation will kick in faster frankly just because they’ve fallen off more. This is also why you see more beginners breaking arms in riding accidents- as you learn to ride you are taught (if you were taught like I was) to NEVER throw your arms out to catch yourself during a fall- it’s more likely that you will land on top of your straight arm and give yourself a wicked compound break. Your instinct changes from trying to save yourself to trying everything you can to staying in your saddle. Self preservation is a wonderful thing!

If Your Character is Sick/Already Injured:

The motion of the horse, even in walk, is going to make them feel worse- especially any injury to the lower stomach area. That’s where the body absorbs most of the motion from the horse’s gaits, especially in the hips/lower abdomen. So if Character A has a stab wound in his stomach and Character B has gotten them into the saddle to bring them to help.... Character A is gonna be in some pretty decent pain until they can dismount. For head injuries the same motion might make them dizzy or nauseous. But, good news! If your character slumps forward completely while keeping their arms on either side of the horse’s neck, they will probably manage to stay in the saddle for a decent amount of time. Their lower body and leg (hopefully still in the stirrups) will keep them in the saddle unless jostled out of it. (This, of course, only making sense if the saddle in question doesn’t have a horn, because otherwise your character won’t be able to slump forward far at all. )If they manage to slip off the horse in this position, they’re going to land head/chest/upper body first, especially if only semi-conscious due to previous injuries.

If dealing with any other injuries, getting on the horse might be nicer than walking but will definitely not keep anything still- any motion the horse makes will make the rider’s body move and jostle the injury, no matter where the injury is.

5. Wrapping it up: Horse Lingo and Behaviour

Horse terms are easy to find and but a google search away, but here’s some of the main terms:

Gaits: A horse’s movement. Walk, trot, canter and gallop with gallop being the fastest.

Aids: what riders use to communicate with the horse. This includes your hand (on the reins) your leg (squeezing to ask for gaits) and your voice.

(Riders talk to their horses! all the time. Even if just to say good boy/girl. Commonly we say things like hoooh, whoa, easy, no, etc. Sometimes just talking to your nervous horse helps calm them down)

Green horse: Inexperienced horse, usually new to being ridden, usually young.

Mare: Female Horse.

Stallion: Male horse, not neutered. Stallions can have a reputation for being hotheaded and sometimes hard to handle, but not all are like that.

Gelding: Male horse, neutered. Most people who have male horses will refer to them as geldings on paperwork.

Pony: a small horse. Not a baby horse. Just smaller.

Colt: Baby male.

Filly: Baby female.

You can probably use google for anything else without concern that you’re using a term that's unnatural.

Behaviour

My rule of thumb for writing behaviour is this: If it seems like a disney dog in a movie would do it........ it’s safe to say a horse wouldn’t. Writing a horse like a disney dog is too unnatural and will definitely make any horse people reading your story give an eye roll.

An example:

Your character has just dismounted their horse after a long ride.

A horse would: maybe sniff your pockets for treats (especially if you had some before you got on) stand next to you as you talked to someone, try to rub their head on you (scratches!! especially if they’re sweaty) maybe perk up at something in the distance if distracted enough

A horse would not: Shake their head at you, whinny at you, prance around and “smile” at you... roll their eyes at something you said... point like Lassie at something in the distance... etc.

Horses definitely have personalities! They can be affectionate and snuggly, nervous or brave, flighty or stoic... but they don’t emote the same way a cartoon character would. The best example i’ve seen of horse interaction in media would probably be the horses in Disney’s Brave. If you pay attention to the way horses interact with each other and react to events in the movie, it’s pretty spot on!

Follow your gut. You can still have a horse with a personality, but if it feels too cartoony, it probably is!

This is a great infographic that explains body language as well.

I hope this helps anyone who wants to include more horse interaction in their writing!

#writing #fiction #writeblr #writblr #whump #whumpblr #fanfiction #hopefully tagging this right!#photos are not mine

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tribbetherium · 3 years

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The Early Glaciocene: 100 million years post-establishment

From Dusk Till Dawn: Duskmice Diversity in the Early Glaciocene

Duskmice, a group of hamsters that have remained very basal throughout the Rodentocene, lived up to their name as small, crepuscular mouse-like rodents. Indeed, many species still remain small, unassuming and unremarkable. However, three of its branches have gained tremendous success as of the Glaciocene, and taken on forms far unlike their ancestral lineage-- the burrowing molemice, the aquatic pondrats, and the carnivorous hammibals.

Many other lineages aside from these three have emerged, many being basal in form, as small, stout, short-tailed rodents akin to the founding hamster. These include the hampters and their pointed-nosed cousins the nholes: in an almost comical irony, the hampter is one of the only hamsters of this world that still resembles what one would recognize as a hamster very closely-- virtually unchanged for a hundred million years. Yet despite its mundanity it is a winning formula, and the hampter thrives in the niche it has held all the while, of seed-hoarding desert rodent, while all else changes around it.

Other lineages of basal duskmice not part of the three aforementioned clades would include the arctic fluffball, polar rodents that nest and migrate in enormous numbers, the herbivorous gwinnie that lives in a wide range of habitats feeding on foliage, and the prickly heckhogs whose bristly fur has been modified into sharp defensive spines.

But it is the three lineages of the molemice, hammibals and pondrats that have reached the greatest levels of diversity, morphing into forms defying the basic shape of a rodent --or mammal, even, and are barely recognizeable as being related to the primitive hamsters they coexist with. Evolution is not a ladder with "evolutionary levels", but a complex and often chaotic process, and here on HP-02017, hamsters basically unchanged live side-by-side with their other, distant cousins who are unimaginably different in form and function.

Yet this illusion of levels is quite visible among the molemice: a group of duskmice that had evolved subterranean adaptations. Small, furry members of this clade still thrive, with different means of burrowing, such as the insectivorous shovelsnout and its spade-shaped nose, or the long-toothed molrus that excavates dirt with long incisors to search for roots and tubers.

Yet among these molemice is one very special clade: a hairless, ectothermic group called the molrocks. Adapted for living in deep, underground burrows, they evolved slower metabolisms to better cope with decreased oxygen levels in their subterranean tunnels. Their eyes had dwindled in the dark, and instead feel their way through sensitive whiskers all over their body, like the gregarious, colonial ruffrus, while its insectivorous cousin, the stellasnoot, developed fleshy tendrils on its snout that can feel, smell, and even "hear" the vibrations of small prey.

Not all molrocks had poor eyesight, however. Some molrocks, the surface molrocks, began living above ground again, in small populations along Easaterra where they lived as insectivorous ambush hunters. Their eyesight had re-emerged, with larger eyes better adapted to daylight vision, and it is this lineage that would give rise to one of the most unusual rodent species of all: the rattiles.

Rattiles became so successful on the continent of Fissor that they would end up outcompeting all the basal surface molrocks, leaving only the armadiles, large molrocks that were Fissor's top predators, and the noodnoots, which thrived on some forest habitats on the Easaterran mainland.

The rattiles would diversify to dozens of species, thanks to various adaptations. Their pangolin-like protective scales, fat-storing tails, and their r-strategist reproduction would give them an edge: bearing well-developed young that could fend for themselves at birth, they would recieve minimal care from the parent--little more than the beneficial microbiota passed to them as they exited the birth canal-- and thus saving energy, could instead invest in many self-sufficient young, where few will survive to adulthood.

These strategies allowed the rattiles to fill most of Fissor's small-animal niches, be it the herbivorous gwannas, the arboreal hameleons, the aquatic monisaurs or the burrowing sninks. Their unique anatomy allows them to fill unusual ecological roles-- but at the same time, constrains them in other ways that true reptiles weren't, and forces them to evolve in niches far removed from those of the squamates they so closely mimic.

The carnivorous hammibals, meanwhile, would become HP-02017's first predators, preying upon smaller hamsters in the days of the Early Rodentocene. Tiny predators like those still exist in the Glaciocene, filling a niche akin to small mustelids, such as the tiglets, which chase small prey down their burrows, or the social gamsters, which hunt in groups of about three to five to take down prey as big as a small hamtelope.

This clade, in the Late Rodentocene, would bring about the carnivorous hamyenas, a clade of predators that, unlike the ferrats, would adapt their upper incisor into a single stabbing point while whetstone-like lower incisors kept them sharp and lethal. The hamyenas would be devastated, however, by competition from beelzeboars and fearrets as the continents collided in the Therocene, and today a few species remain, such as the hamsanians of a few isolated islands off the Ecatorian mainland, and the vulweirines of the continent of North Ecatoria.

But one lineage of the hamyenas would survive: the zingos. Gracile, canine-like cursorial hunters, they would come to dominate most predator niches by their adaptability and greater social intelligence, more quickly pushing aside the carnohams in retaking the carnivore niches after the Glaciocene mass extinction. Today they dominate nearly all continents except Borealia and Peninsulaustra, and are found in an array of diverse and unusual forms.

Some zingos are small and fox-like, filling omnivorous mesopredator niches, such as the omnivorous fawndogs that supplement their diet with plants and fruit, the zingdings that specialize on small, bite-sized prey and sometimes carrion, and the specialized insectivorous moundhounds that feed primarily on ants, termites and the numerous grubs and beetle larvae that nest under rocks and logs.

Another clade of zingos, in the meantime, would become larger and more akin to wolves and coyotes, being large-scale predators that chase after bigger prey such as ungulopes. Some are solitary or pair-hunters like the rintins while others such as the zingerwolves hunt in bigger packs to subdue larger prey, and one genus, the nearly horse-sized marewolf, has turned to powerful jaws and brute force to tackle Easaterra's largest herbivores, the scruffalo.

And the marewolves are not the only zingos to specialize in hunting the enormous ice-age giants, as on Ecatoria and Westerna, the saber-toothed daggarats have done the same with the local megaherbivores of their continent: the hammoths. Of the basal one-fanged lineage are the slaybers, with their fang being utilized as a stabbing weapon designed to puncture vital organs for a quick kill, and the lycanines, smaller, shorter-fanged forest hunters that target smaller ungulope prey. This one-fanged lineage had long been driven from their role as slashing-toothed plains predators by their cousin the double-sabered dark mauler, which now reigns as top predator of the Westernan plains, targeting ungulopes, drundles, and small-to-medium sized hammoth species.

And last, but definitely not the least, are the aquatic pondrats: a group of semi-aquatic duskmice that, lacking tails, instead came to use their hind feet as propulsion in the water. Small diving species such as the puddlemouse and the riverat, which feed on small invertebrates at the bottom of ponds and streams and inflate their cheek pouches as flotation, are similar to the ancestral forms of the entire clade back in the Rodentocene.

From these, bigger otter-like and beaver-like species arose, such as the shrish-eating lutrons and the herbivorous capstors, which are primarily found in freshwater rivers and lakes. Some of their relatives would later head out to sea, becoming the bayvers, pinniped-analogues such as the arctic poleroles that live in the freezing northern sea, and the more tropical yurf that frequents equatorial beaches. This clade would further specialize to life in the sea, and are now very clumsy on land, the fusion of their pelvis and hind limbs facilitating better swimming, but leaving them unable to properly walk and having to awkwardly flop along on their foreflippers and stomachs.

Impeded on land, the bayvers would spend more time in the ocean, and some would leave the land entirely to live their whole lives in the sea. These would include the herbivorous hamatees, which feed voraciously on the sea-dwelling grass known as coast kudzu, and the highly-unusual jousting bayver whose asymmetrical upper incisors would come to form a single forward-pointing tusk used for both self-defense and for stirring up bottom sediment to search for the seafloor invertebrates that comprise much of its diet.

But most abundant and successful of these fully-aquatic bayvers would be the cricetaceans, and in the Glaciocene would find greater levels of diversity due to the more nutrient-rich cold seas. With the formation of the land bridge Junctus the Centralic Ocean has become one giant bay of sorts: and while inside the bay small leviahams flourish as porpoise-like hunters, on the outside of the Centralic and up to the polar seas the cricetaceans would instead prosper, like the small, speedy shrish-eating blippers that travel in cooperative pods, and the more solitary, predatory phorcas that feed on other marine hamsters as well as larger shrish and floating carrion. And, to conclude the list of the duskmice's diverse and fascinating descendants, are the seavers-- giant, filter-feeding marine hamsters that, in the colder seas of the Glaciocene, have since grown into the biggest creatures ever to grace the surface of this spectacular, seeded planet.

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#speculative evolution #speculative biology #spec evo #speculative zoology #hamster's paradise

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janedoe-eyes · 3 years

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Neighbors in a Mask

This is my Secret Santa gift for @theatreandcomicfreak - I hope you like it! I had the help of a wonderful Beta who made this infinitely better😂. Merry Christmas! @maribat-secret-santa-2020 - I’m also posting it on ao3 😁

“Ok - ok, you can do this! This is just a friendly introduction, what could go wrong? New town, new place, new start.” A wet nose nudged her hand in agreement with her little self-pep talk, and she smiled at her furry companion. Marinette squared her shoulders and knocked on the apartment marked ‘655’, the mantra ‘new town, new place, new start’ ran on repeat in the back of her mind. She fidgeted listening for signs of life on the other end of the door.

She jumped when the door suddenly and silently opened to reveal a man her age - half-dressed, extremely attractive, and wearing the least welcoming glower she’d ever seen.

“Yes?” He raised an eyebrow and crossed his arms.

“I… uh… next door… chest moved in… shirtless - I mean!” She sputtered, face resembling a tomato and she barely managed to grab the plate of macaroons she’d lost her hold on while she flailed. Holy hell, I haven’t sputtered this much since…

That thought sobered her right up, and she shook her head to clear the nervous clutter. She took a big breath and started again.

“Sorry - I just moved in next door,” she jerked a thumb to her left, indicating the other condo in the pair. “I wanted to bring these over and introduce myself - I’m Marinette Dupain-Cheng, and this is my dog Squishy.” She gestured to the cream-colored Pit Bull, and he glanced down for a half a moment. “I just moved here from Paris! I’m a fashion designer and novice gardener-”

“Look, I have a lot of work to do,” He cut her off with an exasperated sigh. “I am not interested in whatever you are selling - whether it is a product, business deal, or yourself.” Her jaw dropped. “I do not socialize beyond what is forced upon me by my family - so you have wasted your time. Good day.” He nodded stiffly at her and shut the door.

What the fu…

She stared at the same spot on the forest green door until Squishy whined and nudged her hand. She looked to see the dog leaning on her leg and slowly wagging her tail.

“Squish… did you hear him say what I think he said?” She asked, looking at the door. She received another nudge, this time from her purse on her other side.

She peered down to see Tikki’s blue orbs looking at her with concern. Marinette smiled in reassurance.

“I’m fine Tik - just rebooting.” A small giggle sounded from the bag, and Mari’s smile grew. She gave the door one last look and huffed.

“Oh well,” She shrugged. “Might as well head home.”

She stepped off his stoop and strolled over to her own, her deep red door already decorated with a spring wreath - little ladybugs hidden throughout. She shut the door behind her and caught the plate for a second time when a black blur zipped right in front of her face.

“Hey Bug, I overheard your little exchange… want me to phase over and cataclysm his TV or something?”

“Plagg! What have I said about startling me? You’re gonna give me a heart attack!” He ignored her, floating in lazy circles near her ear. She continued to grumble about the cat as she continued to the kitchen - Tikki flying out of Mari’s purse to join her other half.

“No cataclysms!” The Luck God scolded him, crossing her paws. “We can’t risk anyone becoming suspicious of where the guardian is - anyone who knows the temple returned will be on the hunt!”

“Please,” Plagg scoffed. “I can pop in and out without him noticing and not leave a trace - it’d probably at least annoy the hell out of Mr-stick-up-his-”

“As much as I’d like to get him back for his rude comment - seriously, where does he get off?!” Marinette interrupted with a sigh and a small smile. “Tikki’s right, and it wouldn’t be very guardian or Ladybug-like of me besides.”

“Fine - but the offer still stands.” The little floating cat huffed, flying over to where Squishy cuddled in her bed by the window, watching her owner for signs of needing her.

It was odd how well the dog and cat god got along - Plagg refused to acknowledge he was fond of the Pit Bull, but they were found more often than not sleeping curled together on Mari’s bed at night, and Marinette suspected he snuck her treats.

“As long as we don’t see each other much beyond going in or out of our places - it shouldn’t be a problem.” She shrugged, popping a cookie from the plate in her mouth and handing one to Tikki who happily accepted. “With how ‘busy’ he alluded to being - it shouldn’t be hard.”

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

Turns out - easier said than done.

She saw him the next day in line at a coffee shop accompanied by a man a few years older than him who looked as if death had warmed over. Mr. Grouchy made eye contact with her and scowled before turning away with a tsk.

She rolled her eyes and focused back on the barista. “Hello,” she smiled as much as she could manage at the buttcrack of dawn. “It’s a longshot, but do you happen to have any ‘Black Insomnia’ or ‘High Voltage’?” The blonde behind the counter paled.

“Not another one.” She whispered, her eyes darting over to the man being tugged along by her neighbor.

Marinette tilted her head in question, and the barista seemed to shake it off.

“We are well stocked with Black Insomnia, what size will it be and how would you like it made?” She asked, her customer service smile strained.

“The largest you have - as black as you can make it.” She smiled back and took her receipt, walking over to a booth, overhearing her call out for a “Suicidal Wayne” just as another worker called out for the same drink.

The older boy, the one who looked in desperate need of a good night's sleep, leaned on Mr. Pissy as if he was the only thing keeping him upright - but at the mention of the order, his eyes snapped over to her. He gave her a small wave, and she returned it with a quirked brow. He looked close to moving over, but Sir Scowls-a-lot stopped him with a hand on his arm. He spoke in a low voice, and the tired man’s face melted into a mix of disappointment and exasperation. The man shot her an annoyed look and turned back to the front.

She wanted to go over and demand to know what he could possibly say having met her once for five minutes, but the barista called out three names - hers, ‘Tim’, and ‘Damian’. She walked up before the two could move and grabbed her cup, thanking the woman, before brushing past ‘Tim and Damian’ on her way out. She was in a rush - there was a show coming up next week and she had fittings all day, she didn’t have time to deal with her asshat of a neighbor and his friend with good taste in coffee.

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

As the days passed, they continued bumping into each other. Their dynamic well-past talking, favoring annoyed glares and eye rolls. He wanted to scare her off (the Wayne lawyer way or Robin way - he hadn’t decided yet), but his father and brothers refused - insisting she hadn’t done anything deserving of any kind of action.

Yet. His mind supplied.

There was something off about her - the sixth sense he’d acquired through his life was never wrong, and she set it off like fireworks whenever she was near. He couldn’t get a read on her intentions, but he wasn’t one to wait for the other shoe to drop - he planned to keep his eye on her.

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

He saw her again on patrol a week and a half after she first knocked on his door.

He was in costume uniform tailing a group of five men who had recently left a warehouse that belonged to the Penguin. Red Hood stationed across the street following parallel to him.

The men turned the corner on Hood’s side, and Robin signaled he would wait until they were out of earshot before grappling over. Hood nodded and continued trailing them.

Robin waited for a beat, then shot his hook out to grab the highest ledge available.

“Shit.” Hood’s voice through his comm made his hand jerk and his grappling hook missed the mark. He released his own curse and reshot as soon as the cable fully retracted.

“Report, Hood.” He snapped, flipping at the arc of his swing and sailing over the first building.

“They’re targeting a girl - she looks your age, tiny, at least partially Asian,” Hood grunted lowly.

Damian groaned.

“Acquaintance of yours, Demon Spawn?” Red Hood teased.

“No names in the field, Hood.” He hissed. “And it’s my new neighbor - she keeps popping up like a bad penny.”

“The one you said tried to butter you up with cookies, and drinks the same motor oil as Replacement?” Hood asked. Robin landed beside him, leaning over the ledge to watch the girl’s progress as she leisurely strolled down the street with several shopping bags.

“<Tt>, idiot,” Robin muttered under his breath. “That’s her.” He glanced at Hood who nodded.

“You know - I still say you might have misjudged the situation - Timmy said she didn’t seem the cozy-ing up type and seemed kinda openly pissed at you.” Red Hood mused.

“No. Names. In. The. Field. Hood.” Robin grit out, tired of this conversation - he’d had versions of it with his family ever since the coffee shop incident.

Everyone insisted the Dupain-Cheng girl was trying to be nice - but he looked through her records, and found an unprecedented amount of bullying accusations against her in high school, and she’d quit her job at ‘Agreste’ with no warning - but that was oddly heavily-guarded information. He had been locked out of many of even the simplest social media accounts and public records - especially anything to do with the Agreste brand founder. A familiar itch on the back of his neck told him he was onto something big - and his suspiciously friendly neighbor was connected.

Hood took a breath as if to continue the conversation when Robin put a hand up and signaled downward.

They both looked to see the tiny girl turn sharply across the road and into a dead-end alleyway. She’s even stupider than I assumed , Robin mentally groaned as he and Red Hood scrambled to follow.

They dropped to street-level and ran over to the alley, prepared to find the young woman in need of saving, only to see three men passed out near the entrance. A dented trash lid resting nearby. The small girl, who looked like Red Hood could lift her with one hand, flipped a fourth over her shoulder with ease.

“Holy Mother-” Hood gaped at the scene and sidestepped the flying body - it landed behind him on top of the others.

Robin didn’t flinch as the man sailed past and ruffled his cape. His eyes were fixed on the girl as she high-kicked the last man under the jaw - knocking him out immediately. He couldn’t stop the words ‘almalak almuharib[1]’ from slipping past his lips in an awed gasp. He’d never seen anything so beautiful in all his life.

He shook himself, scowling at the foolish thoughts that rose unbidden. Perhaps she is a shaman or spell caster. That is it - this must be a spell. He reasoned to himself.

He watched, still unable to move, as the girl dusted off her clothes and reached into her bag.

“Are you two gonna help, or do you plan to stand there with your mouths open like a couple of fish.” She asked as she turned around with a handful of zip ties, eyebrow quirked.

“You have one hell of a kick, kid.” Red Hood broke the silence, moving forward to grab a few of the proffered zip ties (even though he had plenty of his own).

“It was nothing.” She brushed off the complement with a wave of her hand and a light rose dusting on her cheeks.

Red Hood scoffed, “Whatever kid, that was the most badass take-down I’ve seen in a while - and I know Wonder Woman.” He extended his fist for a bump.

Her smile fell from her face as if she’d been slapped - her eyes fixated on the proffered fist and starting to water.

“Uh…” Red Hood lowered his arm, “I ain’t trying to hit you kid… you guys have fist bumps in Europe, right?” He laughed nervously and scratched the back of his neck.

“I… It’s nothing - you just... reminded me of a friend.” She whispered, taking in a shuddering breath and turning sharply to secure the last guy she knocked unconscious.

Robin shared a look with his brother (an odd thing to do through a helmet, but they knew each other well enough for it to work) and shrugged, before taking out his own zip ties and turning to the pile of three large men.

As they finished with the other four, Marinette walked past them with her bags and a quick “I’ll leave them to you, then” - and left the alleyway, disappearing from sight.

“That… was weird, right?” Hood said, staring after her. “Shouldn’t we make her stick around to give a statement?”

Robin shook his head slowly. “I think… it would be best to let her go... this time. We have both seen that look before.” In the mirror every time we lost a teammate in battle, he glared where he’d last seen her retreating figure, and puzzled over the new information.

“Wait, wait, wait, I agree she can fight and all, but are you really saying that the little pipsqueak...” He choked out in surprise, Damian could tell his eyes were bugging under his mask.

“I’m not sure, but she’s certainly no average civilian.” He cut his brother off with a shake of his head. “I suggest we keep an eye on her.”

“Hey, if you two have finished your little intrusion into the poor girl’s life and traumas, the police are a minute out.” Barbra, or rather, Oracle’s voice sounded from their earpieces.

Damian took one last look at where she’d disappeared to before turning away with narrowed eyes and a “<Tt>”.

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

Marinette withdrew following the encounter in the alley - barely acknowledging her surly neighbor, Squishy refused to leave her side, and Plagg and Tikki often needed to call her name several times before she’d respond… The Kwamii were worried.

“Tik… we only just pulled her out of the slump she was in back in Paris after…” Plagg’s normally light and expressive face fell, his tail, ears, and whiskers drooping.

“I know… It’s never easy to lose one.” She whispered with a pained wince, past memories flashing in front of her eyes. She floated over to her other half and pulled him into her, petting the back of his head as stuttering purrs overtook his shaking.

“If she continues to relive it, we’ll lose her too - remember Keket.” Tikki shuddered at the reminder of the young girl.

“No… we can’t let that happen again,” Plagg growled, the memories of the long lost kitten painful even all these years later. They couldn’t let that happen to Marinette. Tikki nodded firmly into his shoulder.

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

Marinette stretched out under a large oak tree in the city gardens, her sketchbook open on her lap and Squishy laid over her legs - keeping guard. She stared at the blank page with unfocused eyes, memories swimming in her head out of order and distorted.

“*Sniff* Mommy... Daddy…” A small voice sobbed, pulling her from her musings. She closed her book and set it aside. Squishy took that as a signal to get up and look around, her ears swiveling alertly.

“Where is it coming from, Squish?” She reached to rest her hand on the dog’s back, Marinette stood and looked around intently.

Her dog gave a soft *wuff* and tugged on the leash. Marinette turned and allowed the Pit Bull to direct her. As they neared the bushes the sound came from, Marinette stopped short at the sight of a familiar well-kept head of dark hair and moved her and Squishy to peek around them to the bench beyond.

From her position, she saw her prickly neighbor crouching next to a boy of about five or six whose cries turned into soft giggles as a Great Dane licked at his face, tail wagging wildly.

“Alright Titus, let the boy breathe.” The man grunted, tugging lightly on the large dog’s collar. “Now, have you calmed enough to tell me your name?” He asked in a surprisingly gentle voice, turning his attention to the boy. The kid nodded, sniffing and reaching out to pat the dog - who happily leaned in.

“E-Ethan… My name’s Ethan Sorensen, Mr. Wayne.” He said shyly.

“Ah, you recognize me?” The younger boy nodded, still stroking the dog.

The Wayne Heir returned the nodd. “Good - at least you didn’t talk to a complete stranger. You should be more careful though, the world - and this city especially - are dangerous places for someone young and inexperienced.” He scolded with a frown.

The boy shrunk in, and Titus nudged further into the boy, whining slightly. The temperamental man sighed and hesitantly put a hand on the boy’s shoulder.

“I do not mean to be harsh - I am merely glad I found you first.” He gave the boy a strained smile and it received a laugh from the kid. His eye twitched in annoyance.

“<Tt>,” He groused, pulling back and taking out his phone. He tapped a few times before placing the phone against his ear. “Gordon, I have a boy named Ethan Sorensen alone in the Southeast end of Robinson Park, have there been any missing child reports?” He nodded at whatever response he received. “Good, let your father know we will wait for them on a bench... Yes, of course I plan to remain with him! He is no older than six!... Yes, yes, I will stay behind to issue a statement to the officer… Goodbye Gordon.” He hung up the phone and returned it to his pocket before turning back to the boy.

“Your parents are on their way, would you like to play fetch with Titus until they arrive?” He received a shy nodd in return and handed over a yellow batman-themed ball which was enthusiastically chased once thrown.

Marinette watched a few more throws before retreating to the tree where she had left her bag and packed up.

“So he can be sweet,” she mused to Tikki under her breath.

The Kwamii poked her head out of Mari’s pocket and giggled. “Though he didn’t seem super comfortable with the situation, he went out of his way to be kind to the boy. He stepped up when needed.”

“Yeah, I guess our grumpy-goose next door can act like a human - now and then.” Marinette laughed, turning toward the park’s exit, a light flutter in her chest after watching her awkward frenemy do something kind.

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

That night, Marinette seriously considered donning her mask for the first time in over a year.

She couldn’t explain why, but watching Damian’s secretly sweet nature peek through had lifted her spirits. She felt more like her old self than she had in a long time.

The dark and handsome man was obviously out of his comfort zone in interacting with the boy, but his desire to help another person outweighed his own discomfort. Mari’s guardian senses could see the effort it took to overcome the deep-seated parasitic darkness that latched onto his being. .

Her bones buzzed with an energy that had been absent for a year. She didn't call for a transformation though - her Guardian duties came first, and she needed to understand the city as a healer before she could take on an active protector role.

Using the recovered energy, she took back up a project she'd been working on - knitting hats, gloves, and scarves with needles Wayzz helped her infuse with a warming charm. She planned to give them away at the shelter she volunteered at on weekends when the weather turned in a few months.

She had four sets of mittens done and adjusted the needles to start on a fifth when a loud crash sounded from the other end of the wall. She jumped up and grabbed the retractable baton she stored in her crafting room, sliding into a crouching position. Tikki and Plagg flew over from the cushion they were lounging on to hover next to her.

They waited in suspense - listening for clues as to what was going on beyond the wall.

After a few moments, a pained groan sounded along with another, smaller crash.

Was it… her surly Wayne neighbor?

She shared a glance with Tikki and Plagg, and the three nodded. Plagg phased through the wall, and Tikki flew to Mari’s shoulder. An anxious minute later, Plagg returned, stifling laughter with his paws.

“Oh yeah - he’s gonna need some help,” He snorted. “And what is it with you attracting all the weirdos?” He cackled, flying over to the mini-fridge she kept stocked with Kwamii food and phasing through.

“You’ll want to bring the first aid kit,” he continued, exiting the fridge with a small wheel of cheese and taking a large bite before continuing. “Probably keep the baton with you in case there’s trouble - the kid may not be much help watching your back.”

That snapped her to attention, and she rushed off to her bathroom to grab the enormous first aid kit she collected over years of hero work. She pulled on a coat - Tikki slipping into a pocket - and shoved her feet into her deep red combat boots, quickly tying them before rushing out her front door and over to the stoop she’d glared at in passing for weeks.

Marinette took a deep breath to calm herself before testing the door - which was of course locked. She huffed and pulled out the lock-pick set she stored in the inner lining of her boots. She unlocked the door after two frustrating minutes - it seemed her neighbor wasn’t satisfied with the standard locks that came with the condos and installed his own.

Once inside, she closed the door behind her and re-locked it - noticing a blinking red light on a small black box along the side of the door.

Probably a silent alarm, she mused, No matter - I’m here to help and have no intention of harming… Oh geez, I don’t even know his name - what will the police think when they arrive here?! What names did the barista say at the coffee house? - Tim and… Damian? Gah! It doesn’t matter - he still needs help! She shook herself and continued along the hallway with the first aid kit in her left hand and the baton in her right - raised and ready for trouble.

“Um… Hello?” She called out, deciding it was better to alert any robbers than to scare her injured neighbor. “It’s Marinette Dupain-Cheng - your neighbor next door? I heard a crash and someone in pain, so I let myself in…” Having cleared the first floor, she turned to the stairs at the back of the house past the kitchen. “Mr. Wayne?”

A pained grunt sounded from the top of the stairs and she tensed further, not foolish enough to rush ahead after the warning Plagg gave - even if it wasn’t bad enough to insist on coming himself.

“Is that you, Mr. Wayne?” She called, narrowing her eyes as she reached the top of the stairs.

“I...in here...” A deep male voice coughed from the last room to her right, and she heard a low growling as she entered the room.

“I’m going to turn on the light.” She called a moment before she did.

Muttered cursing sounded at the light and drew her eyes to the floor under the window where the young Wayne lay on his side, clutching a gash over his chest, and surrounded by glass. The man was dressed in a ripped Robin uniform she’d become familiar with due to all the merch that littered the city.

“Oh…” Marinette whispered, Plagg’s comment on attracting weirdos now making sense. She heaved a deep sigh.

“His name is Titus, right?” The dog twitched at his name, and his master nodded stiffly. “Will he let me take a look at your injuries?” She retracted the baton and set it on the ground slowly with the kit, keeping her movements slow, and returning to a standing position with her palms empty and up.

“Titus, hda[2].” The dog slowly relaxed his tense position and looked back at the boy on the ground behind him. “Rahab[3].” The man said, nodding toward her, wincing as it pulled at one of his many injuries.

Though she didn’t understand the language of the commands, their meanings were obvious - she sank to the floor again and turned to her side, slowly offering her hand for the great black beast to sniff. He cautiously approached her and watched her body language intently as he snuffled at her hand - leaving a cool trail behind, which would have made her giggle in another situation.

Finally deciding to trust her , he licked her cheek and released a whine - tugging her jacket sleeve over to his injured master. She reached back to grab her kit and allowed the dog to pull her forward.

“Where are you hurt most severely?” She asked, kneeling beside him, ignoring the few pricks of glass in her legs as she did so.

“The gash on my chest is the only one that needs looked at immediately... the others are superficial.” He wheezed lightly, his voice strained.

“Was your head or spine injured to your knowledge?” At the slight shake of his head, she carefully slid her arms under him and gently lifted him into a princess carry. He let out an indignant and surprised manly squeak and she tried to hide her smile.

“Your partners, do you want me to contact them?” She asked, entering the connected bathroom and flipping the switch with her shoulder.

“My communicator and tracker are busted - though if you came through the front door, they were alerted and will send someone to check when I do not respond.”

She nodded and set him into the tub as gently as she could, shooing Titus away from sticking his head in as close as he could get it to the man. She set her kit on the floor and pulled out a pair of scissors. He snorted at the sight.

“Those will not even make a scratch in -” She grinned at his stunned silence as she nearly glided through the material, snagging a few times on previously patched parts.

“...” He stared at the scissors as she shifted to cut the sleeves. “This is the highest grade kevlar… how in the…” He turned to meet her laughing eyes and quirked an eyebrow.

“I have my secrets,” She gestured to the suit she was tearing into. “And you have your’s.” He pinned her with a look, but she raised her own brow as if to ask ‘you don’t actually expect me to tell you, do you?’

He scoffed and turned to the wall.

She laughed and moved the last of the material out of the way - turning back to her kit to gather her supplies.

“I don’t suppose you’d let me give you any Lidocaine?” He gave her a ‘what do you think?’ look. “That’s what I thought - want something to bite on?”

“I’ll be fine.” He grumbled, turning away again.

“Alright tough guy, I’m gonna just dive in - if you need a break or want to change your mind, let me know.” He nodded, and she threaded the hooked needle, glancing at him once more before starting in.

She was amazed at how little he reacted - a few face twitches at most - and she made sure to get through it as quickly as possible. After tying it off, she cleaned around the wound and taped gauze over it, and nodded to herself in satisfaction.

She turned to grab more alcohol swabs, only to find the injured hero unsteadily climbing to his feet.

“Just what do you think you’re doing?” She asked, exasperated.

“The rest is livable - I will be fine. Thank you for-”

“Thank me when I’m done patching you up, you stubborn fool.” She rolled her eyes, pushing him back down.

“How are you so strong?!” He huffed. “I don’t know of many civilians who could lift a grown man without an issue…” He left the statement trailing like a question, and she laughed.

“I grew up in a bakery - I’ve been lifting bags of flour my whole life.” She shrugged, taping up his finished arm and moving onto another gash.

“Sure…” He scoffed, not believing for a second that was all there was to it. She shrugged in response.

They sat in silence until she finished , tapping on the last square of gauze.

“Alright,” She helped him to his feet and over to his bed. “Is there anything else you need?”

He shook his head, giving a soft ‘Thank you’ - reaching out to catch her hand as she began walking over to retrieve the baton she’d left by his door.

“Truly - I… I would have been in trouble if you had not found me when you did. The others are in the middle of a fight and my beacon was broken before I could activate it… there might still be time before they worry.”

“Happy to help.” She smiled, patting his arm. He nodded, breaking eye contact again and patting Titus who jumped on the bed to snuggle the man.

“By the way…” She started. “What is your name? I know your last name is Wayne - that’s what the boy at the park said anyway, and I think it’s either ‘Damian’ or ‘Tim’ - because those were the names the barista gave at the coffee shop…”

“Wait,” He stopped her. “You… don’t know who I am?”

“Um… should I? The way the boy said it made it sound as if you’re well known here - but I’m only familiar with Parisian celebrities.”

“Oh, then… I believe I may owe you an apology.” He scratched the back of his head, still avoiding eye contact.

“Yes, yes you do - but what are you referring to?” She started with a irked look, and he had the decency to look abashed.

“When you first came to my door… I thought it another instance of someone trying to get in my good graces because I’m a Wayne. My father and brothers have warned me against social climbers, and I find it best to avoid encouraging them by making my disinterest known right away.” He still refused to meet her eyes and she reached out to touch his shoulder.

She waited until he met her eyes before speaking. “I appreciate and accept your apology, and I understand. ” He raised a disbelieving brow.

“No,” she chuckled, “Really. Back in Paris, I had a few friends who suffered from the same problem - an Olympic fencer, a model, a rock singer…” She shrugged. “I get it… but I’d also like to start again if you’re up for it?”

He stared at her for a moment, taking in her sincerity, before he slowly nodded and extended his hand.

“Hello… I am Damian Wayne.” She grinned and grasped his hand.

“Marinette Dupain-Cheng.”

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

Dick burst into the apartment moments after Marinette returned to her own home - leaving her phone number behind with strict instructions to call if he needed anything. He explained what happened - causing Dick check for a concussion when he openly admitted to misjudging her - and was taken to the cave.

Alfred was impressed with Marinette’s stitch job, and only needed to re-bandage the wounds he’d checked. His father had interrogated him for several hours when he found out a near-stranger knew at least Robin’s identity. He was talked down from all-out kidnapping the girl for answers only because Damian insisted on it - and he rarely stood up for his family, let alone strangers. So, they decided to keep a close eye on her when she went out (Damian living directly next door kept them from over-bugging the outside of her home).

They discovered she worked in a small boutique in the Fashion District, and volunteered at a shelter. When she wasn’t at either of those places or running errands, she wandered the city for places to sit and sketch. They had the sneaking suspicion she knew of their presence , but hadn’t caught her looking directly at them yet.

They were all wary of her but eventually eased up on their suspicions the more they were around the little - but strangely strong - ball of sunshine.

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

A few nights later, Damian awoke to the sounds of muffled cries. He instinctively jolted out of bed and reached for the sword next to his nightstand. Listening, he found the sounds came from Marinette’s apartment. He popped open the door to his balcony located on the same wall as hers.

Leaping over - narrowly avoiding knocking over one of the many pots strewn on every surface - he slunk over to her door and peeked inside, expecting a struggle and looking for the best opening to intervene.

What he saw was his small neighbor (friend?) curled on her bed, tangled in her blankets, with tears streaming down her face. She thrashed, a whimper loud enough for him to hear through the glass slipping through her lips.

He sighed and set his shoulders - he’d seen enough night terrors from his brothers, the Titans, and even members of his grandfather’s League to know he wouldn’t leave her to suffer, but not looking forward to explaining how he entered .

Working on the simple lock, he slid the door open silently, and closed it behind him, leaning his sword against it where she wouldn’t notice it unless she paid attention. .

A whine halted his approach, and he paused, noticing the butter-colored Pit Bull at the foot of the bed - having obviously knocked off in her mistress’ movement - and reached a hand out. The dog sniffed hesitantly, her tail stuck firmly between her legs, and her ears flat against her head in worry.

“It’s alright, girl, I am here to help.” He soothed, rubbing at her ears until her tail uncurled and began to half-heartedly wag.

“NON!... CHAT!” The girl on the bed sobbed, her arms flailing as if reaching for something.

He was at her side in an instant, grabbing her arms and readying himself in case she fought him.

“Mari!” He called, shaking her none too gently, “Mari! It is a dream! You need to wake up!”

It took several tries, but soon her eyes shot open.

She sat up, latching onto the first thing she found, and as he still held her wrists, (and her dog was on the floor) he found his arms full of a sobbing Marinette. She gasped, muttering in French how sorry she was, how she should have been stronger, how it was her fault…

He held her, as his brothers did for him for months after he came back from the pits and awoke from his own nightmares. He started to rock back and forth - smoothing her hair, and she cuddled in closer, her cries pittering out.

The city’s ambience filled the room - interspersed with the slight creaking of the bed at Damian’s continued rocking motion.

“Do you wish to talk about it?” He asked after what felt like both a moment and an eternity.

She hesitated, before starting in a small, frail voice.

He learned what transpired in France with the villain the League had been forbidden from interfering with. She told him of the emotional trauma - having to police your own emotions, watching loved ones be used, watching them die horribly, only to have them come back with no memory of the fact.

And then - she told him about Ladybug.

She didn’t swear him to secrecy or threaten him if he told anyone - it spilled out with everything else.

She had been alone.

As a civilian, she was isolated, and as a hero - she had no one to lean on, especially once entrusted with the Guardian title. She had only her Kwamii (whatever that was - she made it seem like some all-powerful sprite) who knew her identity, and she couldn’t properly vent for fear of becoming ‘akumatized’.

She told him about the final battle. How it turned out to be the father of a friend who terrorized everyone, how her partner had nearly fallen apart in grief - as it was his father - and how her partner, her friend, had died saving her from his father’s blade. The blow caused his own power, a "cataclysm" to defensively implode, destroying everything in the vicinity - even the bearer of the ring. Marinette's saving grace was her own power, the ultimate balance to destruction, which shielded her from the blast.

She sobbed into his shoulder after the tale was done until she eventually fell into a deep sleep.

He set her back into the bed gently and covered her with the blankets. Moving to the chair in the corner he slumped down, head in his hands, absorbing the emotion and information her story had left him with.

A wet nose nudged his arm, and he looked down to see her dog slowly wagging her tail and giving him sad puppy-eyes. He gave her a small smile.

“It’ll be alright…” He shifted to search for a tag to find her name - not remembering it from Marinette’s initial introduction.

“It’s Squishy.” A small, high voice called. He jerked his head up to watch a red fairy-bug…thing float down to rest on the dog’s head. “Mari found her rooting through some trash in an alley a week after the final battle - they’ve been inseparable ever since.”

They eyed each other for a moment before he broke the silence.

“...Tikki… right?” That was the name from Marinette’s story. She nodded, her big sky-blue eyes analyzing his soul.

“I am Tikki, Kwamii of Creation and good luck. Thank you for helping my chosen tonight - Plagg and I couldn’t wake her.” She drooped. “This one was particularly bad.” He nodded, and another sprite floated over, this one pitch black with a tail, small pointed ears, and ancient, acid green eyes.

“I’m Plagg - Kwamii of Destruction and bad luck - and I won’t hesitate to cataclysm you into oblivion if you hurt my Bug with the info she trusted you with tonight - or at all, for that matter.” It should have been impossible, with all of his experience, to be frightened of such a tiny being, but Damian found himself shuddering at the fierce protectiveness all the same.

“Understood.” Damian nodded.

“Good.” And just like that, the eyes were half-lidded and looked bored. “Do you have any fancy cheese at your place? The Bug cut me off from the good stuff after I tangled her expensive yarn or whatever.” He rolled his eyes and crossed his ‘arms’.

“Plagg! Can you not think of your stomach for once?!” The red sprite cried, exasperated.

“I spent the whole night watching Spots and trying to wake her when the dream started, then I threatened the birdboy - that’s a long time!” He pouted, and Damian huffed in amusement at how much the tiny cat reminded him of Todd’s bottomless pit of a stomach.

“There’s blue cheese and brie in the fridge.” He pointed down and to the side where his kitchen lay, and was shocked as the cat passed directly through the wall without a word.

“Sorry about him ,” Tikki said with a fond sigh. “He’s worried about Mari, and pretending he doesn't care is how he copes.” She took on a serious look and pinned him with it.

“I know you’re a hero and used to keeping secrets, but the miraculous are the most powerful artifacts in the world. We existed before the dawn of man, and we will far out-live your kind.” He stared at her, the ancient power from the cat now pulsed from her, telling him she wasn’t to be trifled with.

“Mari is all alone in this, and we planned to convince her to seek help from your “league of heroes” soon, so this is not entirely inconvenient - but she trusted you. She is gifted with excellent instincts - both as a Ladybug and a Guardian - I don’t oppose her choice, but I warn you - should you cause any harm to befall her, you will answer to me.” Damian shuddered for the second time that night - the second time in years - and nodded solemnly.

“I understand.” She searched his eyes for another minute before her own softened.

“I see you do. You’ve endured your own trials.” He looked at the lump on the bed to avoid her stare. “I think you will be good for each other.” She mused, rising from Squishy’s head and floating over to the wall connecting his home to Marinettes’.

“I’m going to make sure Plagg hasn’t eaten everything you own.” She giggled, and phased through the wall.

He released a shuddering breath and slumped down from his stiff position - reaching over to pet Squishy’s head as she leaned in and began to thump her tail against the floor. He smiled softly at the sight and sunk further back into the chair with a deep sigh.

He leaned back, staring at the ceiling, trying to sort through how to help the neighbor he’d assumed was after his money and name. He winced at his previous misconceptions. He needed more practice at learning to accurately read people - perhaps he could convince Cass to coach him in nonverbal cues.

He shook his head, helping Marinette build a support system was top priority. He’d always bemoaned his family getting in his way - but at least he’d never been left alone. From her story, it seemed like she’d run the entire Paris operation on her own the four years Hawkmoth had been at large.

The first step was to involve his Father and siblings - they’d know how to execute a plan - but he felt it had to come at her own pace. From what she said, she’d had no choice but to play catch-up during her entire battle - since she was twelve.

He continued to chase his thoughts in a dizzying dance until he eventually succumbed to sleep, not noticing when the kwamii crept back and snuggled in alongside Marinette.

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

Three months later - a tiny girl in a dark red and black ensemble was spotted running on rooftops alongside Robin, Red Hood, and Nightwing, her light, bell-like laughter ringing out into the Gotham night.

The local media pages blew up - the people of Gotham fell in love with their ‘Ladybird’ and her sweet nature which opposed the stoic and gruff bats. It was interesting for them to see her banter and fight alongside the other members of the team - especially Robin, who became her shadow, rarely leaving her side.

She had several blogs dedicated to her feats and theories about the miraculously healed injuries and repaired battle sites. It didn’t take long for people from France to find the numerous articles, and start the rumor she was once their ‘Ladybug’, but there was no solid evidence. The two looked and acted completely differently.

Ladybird was free-spirited and light of heart, whereas Ladybug was serious and professional. Many speculated the Ladybug miraculous traded hands, but, as there was no supernatural Cat seen, it remained an unlikely theory.

Unfortunately for the bloggers, it was hard to snag a good look at the bats, as they thrived in the darkness. Others commented on Robin’s costume change, but Ladybird’s appearance took the spotlight.

If they had caught a closer look, they would have found Robin’s red and yellow colors gone , and the forest green was replaced with a more muted-toxic tone. Thankfully, his hood hid the most significant changes as he now sported two small velvet ears that reacted to sound and emotion, and his usual katakana now had a pitch-black blade with green detailing on the hilt.

In completely unrelated news, the youngest son of Gotham’s resident billionaire was in the news frequently as he’d taken to hanging around a petite Asian-French girl who was rumored to be a famous designer from France. She was photographed numerous times on outings with Damian and both their dogs - who got along even better than their owners.

Due to her kind nature and enchanting smile, she quickly gained the nickname ‘Sunshine of Gotham’ and the tag trended frequently on Twitter.

During an interview with a fashion magazine, she was asked if she’d ever leave the city of crime, and the answer she’d given was proudly displayed in the Gotham Gazette the next day.

“The people of Gotham have heart and spunk which can’t be matched - I was welcomed here after a difficult time in France, and I don’t see myself growing tired of being challenged and cared for in the way only Gotham can.”

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

[1] Almalak almuharib - ‘Warrior Angel’ in Arabic [2] Hda - ‘calm’ in arabic [3] Rahab - ‘greet’ in arabic

#maribat-secret-santa-2020

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writingstarling · 3 years

Text

Comfort in You

Adrien needed to get out. He curled deeper into himself as the walls chased down to cage him like a determined hunter.

It was a trick of the mind, he knew. He knew his room was spacious enough to support a relatively large apartment. That it would be impossible for him to be closed in.

He knew. But his brain couldn’t process that.

Today wasn’t what Adrien would call a good day—and he certainly had better. Just thinking of it sent him into a spiral of his own thoughts.

The air in his room were lego blocks he's forced to inhale. Smothering his nostrils in full force. And was it just him or was the ground starting to sway?

“Breathe,” a voice brought him back to reality. Adrien didn’t even notice he was holding his breath.

He had to calm down. Gain his head back.

Breathe, Agreste. Just like the article said, 4 7 8. Inhale through the nose for 4. Hold it for 7. Exhale through the mouth for 8, Adrien did as so.

You’re alright, you’re okay. Just calm down and you can get out of here!

Somehow he had managed. His surroundings were clearing up. The walls didn’t look like they were about to collapse on him anymore. The air filtering through his nostrils lightened in weight.

He was fine.

“Fine” was an overstatement really. He was far from it as it is.

But in his situation and for argument’s sake, “fine” would fit in nicely.

Exhaling one last shaky breath, Adrien fixed eye contact with his furry companion and smiled.

“Thanks, Plagg. I needed that.”

The black cat rubbed his cheek against his chosen’s. Not for long though. Despite appearances, Plagg had a reputation to keep. He couldn’t let Tikki make fun of him!

Plagg did loops in the air before favouring a spot in front of his chosen. His flipper like hands poised on his waist and a sly smirk played on his lips.

“So, you ready to break out of this place?”

Adrien mirrored his smirk with a fresh new glint in his eyes, “Plagg, claws out!”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Life had been considerably unpredictable for Marinette. With her secret life as a superhero and the sudden debut of a supposed supervillain—or magical terrorist with the ability to grant people magical powers through the aid of butterflies, Marinette had thought that she was beginning to gain the capability to be unfazed by the unexpected. That with all the bizzare events in her life she became acquainted with it.

Apparently she was wrong.

Never had she expected for a certain cat—or perhaps Chat to be perched on her veranda. It rattled her at first. Chat’s last visit had been... interesting, to put it nicely. It wasn’t his fault per se, nevertheless the escalating events left a bad taste in her father regarding the cat themed hero. The bad blood died down, but finding the very person that broke your daughter’s heart on your balcony would certainly summon a very irresistible impulse to jettison him; and Marinette really didn’t want to explain to Paris why one of their heroes managed to become roadkill near her bakery (the suit would probably protect him, but Marinette did not want to take that chance).

That put aside, Marinette shuffled under her sole protector from peering—or in this case, Chat Noir’s eyes. A hand stationed at her trapdoor as her eyes spied on her partner.

His back faced her as he surveyed the city; his cat ears were flat on his tousled gold locks while he hummed a song Marinette became familliar with as “Little Cat on The Roof”. Her lips twitched into a knowing frown.

Being partners for so long they were bound to notice habits the other owned. At the moment, it was Chat’s occasional croons. Marinette recognised the song as Chat's solace. A safe haven achieved by focusing on the assortment of melodies the song offered. She came to the conclusion that her kitty was distressed; presumably due to family circumstances.

Marinette weighted her odds. It didn’t seem like Chat had noticed her yet—which was good. She hadn’t known what action to take. On the one hand, it would be wise to not nose around and let him solve it in his own time. But on the other hand, seeing him lack his usual jubilant and bright attitude sent a jab to her heart.

She wanted to help. To be of service to him like the terrible jokes and over the top shenanigans he did for her. No matter how stubborn she was to clung to her sour mood, he would do almost everything that came to mind to alleviate her spirits. She wanted to do the same for him.

“Marinette?”

The mentioned girl tensed before sighing internally. She knew she was bound to be spotted (HA!) somehow, though she did wish it would be from her own volition rather than a slip aided by Chat’s observation skills. Marinette didn’t loiter on that thought longer and pulled herself up. Red bloomed on her cheeks as the crisp autumn air caressed her skin while embarrassment added an even darker shade of red.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to spy,” she found great interest in the floor as her fingers busied themselves by connecting and disconnecting themselves, stealing peeks as she did.

She expected, hoped, for him to take the chance to chaff her of having an infatuation on him or alleging her of being stunted by his self-proclaimed dashing looks (Marinette has thrown herself into a spiral of denial), albeit begrudgingly. She had, because if he did—there lied a glimmer of hope that it would be easier to buoy her partner. Chat, however, had other plans in mind.

Chat offered her a smile. Impeccably centered and hollow like a well crafted porcelain doll, “It’s okay, it was rude of me to steal your balcony.”

Internally Marinette cringed at the sight. Her stomach wrapped itself in knots of discomfort. It reminded her of the smile Adrien would plaster whenever Chloe or Lila claimed possession of him. That night Marinette vowed that she would never let that smile abide on either boys ever again.

“It’s all right,” she spoke as her feet planted herself next to him.

A pregnant pause held them hostage. Both fearful of breaking the fragile semblance of peace between them despite the mutually felt inquietude.

“So,” Marinette threaded with rightfully earned prudence. Voice soft and light like footsteps on thin ice.

“...So...”

“I have some croissants.”

Finally a piece of her kitty came to light in the form of a grin on his lips and a glint in his eyes.

“You would indulge this poor stray to the finest pastries in the world? Truly, you are the most a-meow-zing purr-incess in the world!”

Marinette fought the giggle bubbling in her throat with no success before sending him a playful glare coupled by a smirk that flourished nothing but friskiness, “Careful now, those awful puns might just cost you.”

Chat’s hand sought his heart above the magical leather suit as an overly inflated gasp found freedom from his peach pink lips.

“How could you Purr-incess! My puns are widely ad-mew-tted to be fur-ry paw-esome,” he retaliated, voice brimmed with feigned smugness.

Snacks and chagrins were soon forgotten as they fell into an easy rhythm of banter. Jabs aimed to Chat’s puns would immediately be reciprocated with a flimsy defense along with an additional pun. Each one personally designed to perturb her further into submission. But despite it, Marinette couldn’t brush away the warmth buzzing through her entire body as they went back and forth. The once brisk air nipping at her skin replaced by a fervour akin to a hug from a dear friend.

After a particularly long laughter from both parties as Chat had finally managed to delivered a humorous pun - “EXCUSE mew Purr-incess, my puns are always funny!” - they settled in another lapse of silence. Consisted of feather lightness and melodic sweetness.

The city was exceptionally beautiful, they had agreed. Perhaps it was due to the occurrence of a full moon, offering the city a better lighting to its beauty; perhaps it was the fiery orange lining the streets with its playful gradient; or perhaps the most immediately discarded thought in their heads, the company they had.

It was a territory they never dared to venture. A land littered with minefields yet to be discovered, yet to explode with much more uncertainty and a set of emotions they were far too fearful to label. Because trying to label the unknown might shatter the bits of understanding of their emotions they barely possessed. Putting the hesitantly glued pieces into shambles; and as a teenager finding their place in the world, it was a risk they were walking eggshells on.

Neither allowed themselves to loiter on the thought longer than a second.

“I, I should get going.” Perhaps it was her imagination, perhaps it was reality how Chat’s ears drooped as he spoke.

“Uh, yeah, it's getting late...”

Chat took the initiative to climb the rails of her balcony, hunched and ready to set off. Baton in hand and his leather-covered thumb hovering over the button to extend it the moment he leaps.

Swivelling his head to face the pig-tailed girl, he gave her a smile, genuine and sincere. “Thanks Marinette, I’ll see you next time.”

For reasons unkown to Marinette herself, a giggle burst forth from her throat. Tickling the air around them with her bubbly laughter. All at once, the air felt warmer to Chat Noir.

“Sure thing, you silly cat.”

Marinette had expected for Chat Noir to make his way. However, still he was in his previous position, unmoving. Marinette was one breath away from uttering her worries when Chat Noir’s voice cut through the air in slight whispers timid and uncharacteristic.

“Can I,” he paused for a minute, but persevered nonetheless, “can I come here again?”

The question sounded child-like in Marinette’s ears. Like a shy little kid trying to make friends while shouldering a large fear of rejection. He sounded so small, so vulnerable.

Marinette took a breath to ease the tenseness she felt from Chat’s question. She needed to deliver an answer appropriate from her words down to her tone in order to fully put Chat at ease.

Gentle and fluffy, sweeter than all the candies in the world with a tone of loveliness, she spoke. “You’re always welcomed here, Chat.”

A weight could visibly be seen lifted off Chat’s shoulders. Shoulders once guarded and fearful of rejection came to relax for the first time that night. With a nod, Chat finally made his way back to his house.

The journey was something he didn’t desire, but he can’t impose Marinette with his overdue stay. At the very least, he came back with a new feeling better than anything he had in a long time. A feeling of warmth buzzing in his heart. Perhaps, he’s finally starting to remember the feeling of home again.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

HAHAHAHA SO-

I uh, I forgot about this thing’s existence and neglected it for 2 years...

Well so that’s also why the writing style is a bit screwed up but I tried and honestly I was too lazy to rewrite the whole thing so you can have this mess instead ❤️.

#miraculous chat noir #miraculous ladybug #miraculous #miraculous marinette #marinette dupain cheng #adrien x marinette #ml marinette #mlb #ml adrien #marichat #fanfic #fanfiction #chat noir #adrien agreste #miraculous adrien #mlb fanfic

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