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forthesanityofstorytellers · 2 years ago

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Redmoon

A piece I worked on for a competition.

Fantasy Summary: The Bear Prince isn’t sure he agrees with tradition. The one arranged to be his mate is very sure she does not. WC:3314

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Hair hanging off his skeletal shoulders and hips, the old Bear king breathed in a rattling sigh. The hot air brushed his drooping whiskers, the thinning fur covering his upper and lower lips turning black like the lower mountains. He turned his fading gaze to observe his son's argument one last time.

His son, the last-born of his mother, shuffled with indecision. Unlike the king, his son's coat held the rust from the mountains, a dull red. Fat filled out his ribs and stomach, a good sign of health. The mountain tunnels were carved by magic, smoothed by thick fur constantly wearing away at the stone. Fat was a needed insulation against the rough terrain.

The young prince shifted his weight, short back legs folded under him and submerged in belly and hip fur. The king did not understand his insistence on using all four legs when the Bear's forelegs were four times the length of their back ones, when many generations before him had learned to use said forelegs to pull their way through life. The need of back legs was nearly non-existent.

Yet his son persisted. Yet he ignored it. He loved his youngest cub, peculiarities aside.

"Speak, Redmoon," the king sighed, rolling further onto his wide shoulder in order to see better. "I groan with age."

Redmoon huffed his words before saying them, large round ears swatting at the sides of his head. Building up his courage, he lifted his stubby face to meet his father's gaze.

"The marriage," he said. "I must bring it up once more.”

The king nodded. "Your protests have been heard."

"But--"

"For many revolutions, this task has been set down as such. The last Appointed son before the king succumbs to death must be the one who takes stewardship of the kingdom. It is how the kings before us proceeded, and it is what we shall do now. You are the youngest, yet to be bonded. Your mate has been selected, a strong victor in the past. This contest will be her final test. Should she prove the ability to consume the most food in the selected time, she will show her ability to maintain energy throughout the cold seasons and sustain strong cubs. Should she fail, I will be forced to find another arrangement for you next Season. Yet I am old, and my time is near. Should I die before you are mated, tradition dictates your brother will take over."

"If we can find him," Redmoon grumbled.

"Then it will continue up the line of your mated brothers until a leader is found." Shifting his weight onto one arm, long claws scraping the stone as he moved, the king leaned forward. "This is how it is. This is how it has always been. If you are not bonded before I die, you are to be Descended in the name of tradition. Cast down the mountain to live among the strangers of the forest, likely to die there. Outcast. Never to return. Does this please you?"

Redmoon wanted to scream. He wanted to demand a change in tradition. Yet he knew what tradition dictated. The weight of his bloodline pulled his neck down as he shook his head. "No," he muttered, words caught in the fur around his mouth. "It does not."

"Then we are ended." The King groaned as he reclined, stretching his neck and rolling onto his stomach. He relented in his son's silence. "I do not wish for unhappiness, but our role among the clan is strength...keeping tradition and a strong bloodline." When Redmoon did not respond, standing in defeated silence, the king realized there was nothing new he could say and closed his weary eyes. "The contest is soon. Please ensure the food is gathered."

Redmoon did as asked, bending until his stomach touched stone and reaching forward in order to crawl his way out. The tunnels were tight, but the time-worn rock was smooth and easily passable. Eventually the purple light of the sky was found, Redmoon pulling his way from the cavern entrance and pausing long enough to heave himself upright. Unconventional as it was, some days he didn't feel like rolling around on his stomach.

Just like some days he didn't feel like being married for the sole purpose of tradition.

His back legs shook with the extra weight, but he leaned heavily forward until most of it comfortably rested around his shoulders and arms. Placing one curled fist in front of the other, he lurched his way across the mountain ledge until he found a path sloping upward. Several of his Clan were either climbing up the sheer wall or lowering themselves down the dark red surface of the mountain. With a heavy sigh, he uncurled his claws and heaved his way upward, muttering and thinking as he climbed.

There was only one true way out of this arrangement; sabotage. Yet he wasn't sure he was strong enough to see it through. His father and forefather had done things this way. Would it be so bad?

He gave his head a shake. No. Don't bow to tradition without knowing why tradition stands. That's what he believed, and what he had tried to tell his father over and over again.

But his father was a king stuck in his ways, constantly lecturing on the importance of bonding to a Silver-claw female he had never met. She had heard of him, certainly, but it didn't change the fact the two were unlikely to meet before the contest.

Reaching the top, Redmoon slid his stomach over the edge and settled himself back on all fours, loping his way to the refined rock of the competition stage. The large ledge here had been cleaned and smoothed by both claw and magic, something he often heard of but had never seen. Females and males alike carried food on their backs, all manner of plant life stuffed into baskets of woven vines and giant shells.

As each gatherer moved around the mountaintop, they slid their way to several sloped holes in the mountain where another, larger basket waited at the lowest point, tipping the foot from one basket into another. There was one basket for each contestant, the tip of the slopes placed so the king could watch how the females ate and ensure no one cheated. The fruit was separated and shuffled into equal bits, as were the plant stalks, leaves, and berries. Each contestant was assured equal footing with her rivals, all females competing for the prospective males that were sure to attend.

Redmoon listlessly moved around the stage, swatting away small pebbles and watching as they danced their way off the edge of the mountain, envying their ability to flee. In a perfect world, he would be free to leave the mountain without the scorn of tradition or the weight of knowing he would never be welcome back.

A breeze blew sideways, carrying strange whisperings to his ears. In trying to determine who it was or where it came from, he found himself looking back towards the stage.

As most of the gatherers moved away, content in their mission to gather food, he spotted a single bear that had stayed behind; a silver-coated female was propped up on one arm, the other arm moving over a basket while her head was amongst the fruit. The whispers came from her. She was using magic, ancient words woven into a string of willpower and direction. The food. She was sending energy to the food. The basket's contents began to blacken and curl at the edges before snapping back to normal; he didn't know what she was doing, but clearly, it was meant to be undetectable to the eye.

He was going to turn, to let her be, when he spotted a pair of guards pulling their way along the mountain.

Shuffling up behind her, he wrapped a giant paw around her arm and tugged her off-balance. Her whisperings came to an abrupt halt as she realized she had been caught.

"Come with me," he said quietly, "unless you want to be caught."

She glanced around and spotted the guards. Staring only for a moment, ears swatting the humid air away, she huffed and turned back to him. He dropped to his stomach and began crawling away with her at his heels. They slid together towards the nearest edge, planting claws into the rough edge of the stage and swinging their stubby tails over. Gravity took hold and soon the pair were crawling down the slopes of the mountain. Redmoon didn’t stop until he found himself on a small cavern ledge, a wide cave yawning nearby. The Silver-claw landed soon after, and he nudged her until they were both hidden.

The pair sat at the edge, straining to hear of any sign her magics had been discovered. But no warning shouts came. Her tamperings had not been found. Redmoon turned to her and placed a hand on her arm, but a growl rumbled deep in her chest as she twisted away and swiped an angry blow at him.

"Why did you stop me?!?" she snarled. "It was almost done!!"

"You are lucky I caught you and not the guards," Redmoon growled. "Do you know what it is to stake the game before it is set?"

"Eviction," she barked. "And it cannot come soon enough."

"What is it to you?" he demanded. "Why sabotage this contest?"

"Because this is the one where the king shackles me to his cubling prince for the sake of tradition, and I will not have it!!"

Ah. So, this was Mistcloak, the female his father selected to mate him, should she win. His betrothed wanted as much part of the bonding contest as he did. He wondered how many others in the Clan felt this way, how many Bears participated in the bonding feast contest against their wishes.

"Not simple eviction," he snapped, shaking his head. "You are supposed to be bonded to the prince. The king would likely Descend you for such a thing."

"Better than being bonded to a cubling!!" she roared. He didn’t respond, and the silence was filled as she took a deep breath, snorting out the rest of her anger, unused to the fire it left in her belly. "Besides, I was in no danger. One of the guards is with me, a silver-claw also unliking of tradition. He allowed me to gather so I could alter my chances."

“Was he among the two above?”

She glanced back up at the mountainside. “...No. He was to be watching, to ensure I was not caught. I am...unsure why he did not call out.”

Redmoon studied her a moment more. All the anger and frustration had given way to worry and confusion, a cycle he often found himself treading. He took a breath. "What magic did you use?” he asked. “I have...not seen such a thing before."

The change in subject distracted her. She glanced at him. "You wouldn't if you were born to a hold higher up," she said, now sniffing around the cave. "We use such Language against troublesome plants; ones poisoned or invasive. It harms them little, yet sickens them enough to cease growing for a moon or so, giving us a chance to move them. I used it on the fruit because the price for such magics turns the plant inedible. Sickens those who try."

"So you would avoid winning, but not in a way to disown your last victories."

She nodded, now inspecting the cavern's insides. Something sparkled against the black walls and drew her attention. "What is this place?" she abruptly asked, tipping her head. "What is in the walls?"

He smiled, moving to answer her question with a display. "It is where the obsidian flowers bloom." Picking up a paw, he scraped at the blackened wall. A small cloud of dust and ash fell away to reveal a sharp black stone set into a fragile-looking flower. "My mother used to bring me here. We always came to watch the blooming, when the flowers free themselves and extend their roots, catching the low mountain winds and lifting into the air."

"I did not know they bloomed in such a dark place," she said, looking down further into the cave. "Our hold only sees them on the winds."

He glanced at her. “You wouldn’t if you were in the lower holds.” She snorted at him and he smiled. "My mother would tell me that even flowers bloom in the dark of the mountain...and that we should be no different." Looking back, his mother might have always believed he was different. Perhaps she even loved him for it.

Mistcloak's voice matched the stillness of the cave. "Who was she?"

"Starsing.” His voice matched hers as his gaze slid to her face. “My mother’s name was Starsing." Her eyes widened, heart leaping into her throat as she recognized the name.

"StarSing...the Queen?!"

He nodded.

"So you...?"

"I am the cubling prince," he said gently with a short smile. "And I do not approve of this bonding contest either."

Mistcloak let out a hard breath, brows furrowed in confusion. "But if..." she shook her head. "Why did you stop me?"

He hesitated. "...First, I must know…” He wanted to ask, but the words stuck between his short whiskers. Turning instead to the flowers, he reached out and plucked one from the wall, watched as the petals fluttered in the gentle breeze. "...Are you so repulsed by me?"

She shook her head, glancing down at the flower. "It is not repulsion. Not to you. I am repulsed by the contrived nature of it all.” She turned back to the wall, a finger idly trailing along the center of a flower. “Bonding myself until death to a mate I've never met? Based on a single fact of how well my stomach holds. How well I might birth the next line. Is my life so unimportant it must be lashed to a stranger who only desires my future? Can I not find a mate whom I enjoy? Who enjoys my present, however strange?"

He looked up at her with a soft smile. "My Mistcloak...I have wondered the exact same.” She glanced at him, eyes narrowing. He explained. “The simple nature of my birth brought about a burden I am unsure I want. Yet I must share this unwanted burden with someone of whom I know nothing. We are expected to hold burdens together, to sleep, to mate...all for reasons unknown."

"Then change things!" she said with a snort, slamming a free fist into the ground. "You are higher than me; can you not terminate the arrangement?!"

"I am higher in name only," he groaned, rolling back on his hips. He could see just beyond the cave’s edge, the purple sky giving way to the faint light of the red moon. The deep red light illuminated the edge of the mountain, his eyes following the tip above him all the way down to where the edges sprawled out below him like one giant paw, branching out into different sections as trees rose up to meet the mountainside. "I have tried talking to my father and gained nothing. Yet with you…” he looked back at her. “Perhaps we can both get what we desire."

She tilted her head and waited.

Rolling back up on his feet, he glanced at the flower in his hand, holding it out to her. "We will wait until after the gatherers are done. I will go to the stage and dismiss the guards for a moment. Once they leave, you are free to work such ill on more baskets than yours...that way, it will merely look as if the food was gathered from an ill place. You will not get in trouble."

She agreed, and together they waited.

The next sky-shift saw all the nine holds of the Bear clan gathered at the mountain top, each of them laying before their respective piles. Silver coats, red fur, and a mottling of black and white reflected the strong red light of the sky, while brown coats shuffled among black coats. Rusty red noses twitched at the food, while large ears flapped back and forth in anticipation. The king pulled himself onto the stage, a long slope rising to the edge of a large, hollowed-out cave from where he would watch. The edge of the king’s stage rose to a pointed peak, allowing him to pull his way to the highest vantage point in order to best watch the contest.

Redmoon slid his way behind his father, sliding into place next to the rising platform. He could not help but look for Mistcloak among the crowd of females, ears swatting feverishly in anticipation of their plan.

The king let out a thunderous roar. The contest began. The females dug their faces into their piles, eating as much as they could. Some sliced the stalks for less chewing, while others swallowed fruit whole. Bellies began to enlarge as they ate, food stretching the stomach as wide as possible.

There she was. Redmoon spotted the glint of a clean silver coat jostling among the crowd. He watched intently, waiting to see if she finished her work. As planned, a few females began to fall ill. One from the rusty mines spewed her contents onto the floor. A brown forest-hold roared in pain and smashed her pile with her claws. A small handful of pepper-print females collapsed, and soon Mistcloak herself succumbed.

Redmoon watched, silent dismay starting to creep among his insides. He did not think so many would suffer at his actions. More and more females fell ill, some crying out or casting sad looks towards a male nearby as they were pulled from the stage. He turned slightly to watch the females taken off the field and realized he didn’t know their preference on bonding. He hadn’t thought of what they wanted, hadn’t bothered to ask for what they hoped.

His stomach churned. In his efforts to free himself, he had not considered anything other than himself. No one had bothered to ask if he wanted tradition, and so he had performed exactly as he had been taught; thinking of his place in tradition, and only his place.

If he were to change tradition, perhaps he must think beyond his own skin.

His mind turned to Mistcloak. He looked for her among the crowd again, and saw her being helped off the stage. She was so much stronger than he; stronger in will, mind, and body. She had taken action while he did nothing. Had elected to choose her fate while he moaned and cried. Had worked at first so that only she would be taken from the running and others would still have a chance to perform. She had not let her disgust of tradition poison her view of those around her.

Perhaps his father had not chosen so poorly.

The young prince drew a look of annoyance from his father, claws tapping the stone as he fidgeted. He wanted to make sure Mistcloak was well, despite her reassurances the poison would only last a short time. But it was his duty to stay put until the contest was ended. He fidgeted and fiddled with the tips of his ear-hairs when he could, resisting the core of him that sought to race to her and help her.

He recognized strength and companionship in her; for too long, he thought he was alone. Alone in his understanding of tradition and where he fit in. Alone in his distaste of doing something for the sake of the generation before...but with someone like her...someone strong enough, believing the same as himself...perhaps together, they could change tradition. Perhaps.

#Redmoon #Mabanu universe #short stories #my work #my writing

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evolutionsvoid · 2 years ago

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The Galdrhveli isn't the only strangely magical creature that is found up in those arctic oceans. From the tales and legends, it seems the Helkkja have been quite busy on their frozen islands. All sorts of mentions of weird animals and beasts altered by their magic, and crafted into something new. It seems like this is their method of gaining guards, laborers and other vital workers for their secret communities. Obviously these freezing lands don't offer a lot of species that could be easily domesticated or used, so the witches just made some for themselves. It is fascinating to hear these tales, and see drawings of the strange creatures. Learning about this certainly got me excited, as a whole new slew of species to study! Problem is, they are only found in the lands of the Helkkja, and they don't exactly accept visitors. With this, no one really has any access to these magic born animals, and thus we know very little about them. But I still want to pass on the knowledge of their existence, so I guess we are writing an entry about them regardless!

While I had heard a lot about the Galdrhveli, there was another species of theirs that often got brought up alongside them. The Staveother is a beast that walks those frozen isles, and shares a notable similarity with that magic infused whale. This species looks and sounds to be mammalian, with thick fur and a notably ungulate frame. Beneath that woolly coat appears to be thick leathery skin, no doubt bolstered by layers of fat. Their anatomy is obviously like that of a rhino's, but alterations from the witches have changed them into something more. A single look at their horn will clue you in on their biggest change, as it has been replaced by a wand-like structure. It seems these magic growths come in all different shapes and sizes, at least judging from the variety of drawings I have seen. It doesn't seem to be the only wand either, as some art has shown them with similar structures jutting from their mouths like tusks. No doubt used for smaller spells or what not. I will note the significant bulge on the neck, like an overdeveloped muscle. I suspect that it acts like the Splenius magus that humans possess, either grown from a lesser muscle or perhaps artificially grafted to this species. Perhaps this is what fuels their wand growths, and lets them cast spells to either help their masters or fight foes. I can't imagine they use it much for battle though, because it is near impossible for invaders to even set foot on the island before they are destroyed by the guard whales. Of what they eat, I have to imagine it is a herbivorous diet, grazing on what little plants grow in that arctic wasteland. Like the rumors of the Galdrhveli, I could see the Helkkja feeding the Staveothers special herbs and concoctions to further power their magical abilities. Of what they do with this magic, I don't really know. The tales say that this species is used as a beast of burden, trained to be mounts, or to....pull things or....well, whatever duties they are given. They don't really talk too much on those details. Honestly, not much is said about the Staveothers outside of the fact that they exist, can use magic and are used by the Helkkja. A real shame, because I absolutely want to know more! Why do legends always prattle on about monsters being scary and evil, or how powerful a creature is before a hero slays it, while completely ignoring all the juicy details everyone really wants to hear?! What do they eat? Where do they sleep? What part do they play in the local food chain? I couldn't care less about how the evil dragon Grimgagrackle-whatever has fire breath hotter than the pits of hell, I want to know how it plays into the rest of the ecosystem! Surely its eating habits impact local herbivore populations, and available food for other predators. Where does it make its nest, as that has to be a ripe place for scavengers and parasites! And don't get me started on the possibilities that come from that beast's dung! A creature that big has to leave some sizable droppings, which no doubt is a nutritious feast for plants, fungi and coprophages! Why don't people write about that?! I swear, I have to do everything myself around here! Right, Staveothers! Get back on track, Chlora!

Since they live on a secret island guarded by vicious whales, I cannot find much more on this species. Dang it, I get writing another paragraph and now just realize I got nothing left! Hold on, there has to be something else to mention. Ah, the Staveothers have been mentioned of being an inspiration for the unicorn-like constructs that certain mages have built! You know those metallic horned horse things? Ones used by mages to hunt down witches and keep the peace? Yeah, folks say that their design was based on this species, though mages will say it is the other way around. Hard to really say who came up with it first, as it is a classic case of each side accusing the other of copying. I just hope that the Staveothers are a lot more calm and peaceful then those constructs. Those metal ponies sure get murderous when they catch a whiff of witch in the air. Chlora Myron Dryad Natural Historian Great, now we are writing entries for animals you have never seen, heard or even know anything about. Wonderful, just wonderful. You're doing this to me on purpose, aren't you? - Eucella -

---------------------------------------------- “Staveother”

If narwhals get wand horns, then so should someone else! Spread the love!

#monster #creature #rhino #art #drawing

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boofbybella · 18 days ago

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Winter Dog Clothes: Find Comfy Dog Sweaters for Your Pet

Winter is here, and it's time to gear up with cozy layers—not just for you, but for your furry friend as well. Just as we swap out lighter clothing for warmer options, our dogs also benefit from suitable winter dog clothes that keep them snug and comfortable during the colder months. This guide will help you understand why winter clothes, such as dog sweaters and jackets, are essential and how to select the best options to keep your pup warm all season.

Why Your Dog Needs Winter Clothes

Dogs come in various shapes and sizes, and so does their ability to handle the cold. While some breeds have thick coats that provide natural insulation, others with shorter or finer fur may need extra help in staying warm. Winter dog clothes are essential for short-haired breeds, smaller dogs, and even some larger breeds with low body fat. For senior dogs and pups with health conditions, winter clothes are particularly important, offering additional warmth and reducing the risk of joint stiffness or cold-related discomfort.

By dressing your dog in winter clothes, you’re giving them the freedom to enjoy outdoor adventures, socializing, and exercise—even on chilly days. High-quality dog clothes, like jackets and dog sweaters, make it easy to protect your pet and keep them comfortable without limiting their movement or sense of fun.

Types of Winter Dog Clothes to Consider

Finding the right winter dog clothes involves considering your dog’s size, breed, and sensitivity to the cold. Here are some popular winter clothing options for dogs:

Dog SweatersDog sweaters are a staple in any pup’s winter wardrobe. They’re versatile and suitable for mild to moderate cold weather. Look for sweaters made from soft, breathable materials like wool blends or fleece, which keep warmth in while still allowing for some airflow. Sweaters can be worn indoors or outdoors and are perfect for cozy nights in or brisk walks outside.

Dog JacketsFor harsher winter weather, consider adding a dog jacket to your pet’s winter clothing collection. Dog Jackets typically provide thicker insulation than dog sweaters and often come with water-resistant or waterproof layers, which make them ideal for rainy or snowy conditions. Choose a jacket that offers adequate coverage and fits snugly, keeping in warmth without restricting movement.

Hoodies and VestsHoodies and vests are excellent winter dog clothes for lighter coverage. Hoodies protect the neck and upper body, while vests provide core warmth. These options are generally lightweight and work well for moderately cold days or indoor wear.

Dog BootsPaws are just as sensitive to the cold as any other part of your dog’s body. Invest in a pair of dog boots to keep your pet’s feet warm and protected against icy sidewalks and road salt. Choose boots with a non-slip sole and secure straps to ensure they stay in place and allow for natural movement.

AccessoriesWinter dog clothes don’t have to stop at dog jackets and dog sweaters. Accessories like scarves or hats can add a touch of fun and extra warmth. Just be sure to supervise your pet and ensure these items fit comfortably.

Tips for Getting Your Dog Comfortable in Winter Clothes

If your dog is not accustomed to wearing clothes, here are a few tips to make the transition easier:

Introduce Slowly: Let your dog sniff and explore the new clothes before putting them on. Gradually increase the time your dog wears them to build comfort.

Reward with Treats: Positive reinforcement can help your dog associate wearing clothes with rewards.

Check for Signs of Discomfort: Watch for signs like scratching or trying to remove the clothes. If your dog seems uncomfortable, adjust the fit or try a different style of winter dog clothes.

Caring for Your Dog’s Winter Clothes

Maintaining your dog’s winter clothes properly will keep them in good shape for the season. Here’s how:

Follow Washing Instructions: Check the care labels on dog sweaters and jackets to ensure you’re washing them correctly. Some winter dog clothes may require hand-washing or delicate cycles.

Dry Thoroughly: Make sure to dry winter clothes completely to prevent dampness, which could irritate your pet’s skin or attract mildew.

Inspect Regularly: Winter dog clothes may wear out over time, especially if used frequently. Inspect them for loose threads or worn areas that might cause discomfort.

The Benefits of Winter Dog Clothes for Cold Days

Winter dog clothes aren’t just about style—they play an essential role in your dog’s health and comfort. With the right sweaters, jackets, and accessories, you can keep your pet warm and happy, allowing them to fully enjoy the winter season. Whether you’re going on a winter hike or just taking a walk around the block, dressing your dog appropriately helps them stay comfortable and ready for any winter adventure.

Boof by Bella: Your Source for Stylish Winter Dog Clothes

At Boof by Bella, we specialize in cozy, functional, and stylish winter dog clothes, from dog sweaters to dog jackets designed with both warmth and fashion in mind. We believe that every dog deserves to look their best while staying warm and safe. Explore our collection and find the perfect sweaters and jackets for your pup’s winter needs.

In conclusion, preparing your dog with the right dog clothes makes a big difference in keeping them comfortable during cold weather. With the right dog sweaters and dog jackets, your dog can look great and feel even better. Don’t let the chill keep your furry friend from enjoying winter, dress them in the best winter dog clothes for a warm, cozy, and stylish season!

Important link: Warm winter dog sweaters for small dogs

#Winter Dog Clothes #Dog Jackets #Dog Sweatshirt #Dog Sweaters

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meowk9 · 2 years ago

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Barbet: Dog Breed Characteristics & Care

Are you looking for a furry friend that is friendly, intelligent, and affectionate? Meet the Barbet, a medium-sized water dog with a curly coat and charming personality. In this article, Meowk9 will explore the Barbet dog breed, its characteristics, and how to take care of them.

Introduction

The Barbet is a rare breed that has been around for centuries. They were originally bred in France as water retrievers, but they have since become a popular family pet due to their friendly and affectionate nature. They are great companions for families, individuals, and even other pets. Let's take a closer look at the Barbet dog breed and what makes them so special. Breed Overview: - GROUP: Sporting - HEIGHT: 19 to 24.5 inches from the shoulder - WEIGHT: 35 to 65 pounds - COAT: Long, dense, curly - COAT COLOR: Black, grey, brown, or fawn, and some have white markings - LIFE SPAN: 12 to 14 years - TEMPERAMENT: Calm, goofy, devoted, intelligent, obedient, joyful - HYPOALLERGENIC: Yes - ORIGIN: France

Origins and History of the Barbet

The Barbet's origins can be traced back to the 16th century, where they were used as water retrievers for hunting. They were popular among French aristocrats, who valued their abilities to retrieve waterfowl from marshy areas. The name "Barbet" comes from the French word "barbe," which means beard, and refers to their thick, curly coat. In the 19th century, the Barbet nearly became extinct due to a decline in the demand for hunting dogs. However, a few dedicated breeders worked to revive the breed, and they have since become a rare but beloved breed.

Physical Characteristics of the Barbet

The Barbet is a medium-sized dog that stands between 19 to 23 inches tall and weighs between 35 to 65 pounds. They have a distinctive curly coat that can range from black, brown, gray, or white. Their coat is waterproof, which makes them excellent swimmers. Barbets have a broad, round head with a square muzzle and a well-developed chin. They have round, dark eyes that are set wide apart and have a gentle expression. Their ears are long and hang close to their head.

Temperament and Personality Traits of the Barbet

Barbets are known for their friendly, affectionate, and intelligent nature. They love to be around people and other pets and thrive in social environments. They have a playful and curious personality and are always up for a game of fetch or a swim in the pool. Barbets are also highly trainable and excel in obedience and agility competitions. They are eager to please their owners and respond well to positive reinforcement training methods.

Training and Exercise Needs of the Barbet

Barbets are an active breed that requires regular exercise and mental stimulation. They enjoy long walks, runs, and swimming sessions. They also excel in agility training and enjoy learning new tricks. Barbets respond best to positive reinforcement training methods, such as treats, praise, and playtime. They are highly intelligent and need to be mentally stimulated to prevent boredom.

Grooming and Coat Care for the Barbet

The Barbet has a thick, curly coat that requires regular grooming to prevent matting and tangling. They should be brushed at least once a week and trimmed every three to four months. Their coat should be kept clean to prevent dirt and debris from matting in their fur. Regular bathing is also important to keep their coat looking healthy and shiny. It's important to note that the Barbet's coat should never be shaved as it provides protection from the elements and helps regulate their body temperature.

Feeding and Nutrition for the Barbet

A well-balanced diet is important to maintain the Barbet's health and energy levels. They require a diet that is high in protein and fat, and low in carbohydrates. It's important to choose a high-quality dog food that meets their nutritional needs. The amount of food the Barbet needs will depend on their age, weight, and activity level. It's important to monitor their weight and adjust their food intake accordingly to prevent obesity.

Common Health Issues of the Barbet

Like all dog breeds, the Barbet is prone to certain health issues. Some of the most common health issues include hip dysplasia, ear infections, and skin allergies. To prevent health issues, it's important to keep up with regular vet checkups, maintain a healthy diet and exercise routine, and keep up with their grooming and hygiene needs.

How to Find a Healthy Barbet Puppy

If you're interested in adding a Barbet to your family, it's important to find a reputable breeder who conducts health screenings on their breeding stock. You can also consider adopting a Barbet from a rescue organization. When choosing a Barbet puppy, look for one that is active, curious, and has a friendly personality. They should have clear eyes and a clean, healthy coat. It's also important to ask the breeder or rescue organization for any health information or history they have on the puppy and their parents.

Socialization and Interaction with Other Pets

Barbets are social dogs that enjoy being around people and other pets. Early socialization is important to help them develop good manners and interact well with other dogs and animals. Introducing a Barbet to a new pet should be done slowly and carefully. It's important to supervise their interactions and provide positive reinforcement for good behavior.

Living Conditions Suitable for the Barbet

Barbets are adaptable dogs that can live in a variety of living conditions. They do well in homes with yards, but can also thrive in apartments as long as they get enough exercise and mental stimulation. It's important to provide a comfortable and safe environment for the Barbet, with plenty of toys and activities to keep them entertained.

Barbet Rescue and Adoption

If you're interested in adopting a Barbet, there are many rescue organizations that specialize in this breed. Adopting a Barbet is a great way to give a loving home to a dog in need. Rescue organizations will often provide information on the dog's history and temperament, and can help match you with a dog that is suitable for your lifestyle and family.

Conclusion

The Barbet is a unique and rare dog breed that makes a wonderful companion for families and individuals. They are intelligent, affectionate, and love to be around people and other pets. By providing them with regular exercise, grooming, and a well-balanced diet, you can ensure they live a healthy and happy life.

FAQs

Are Barbets good with children?Yes, Barbets are known for being great family pets and do well with children.Do Barbets shed?Yes, Barbets do shed, but their curly coat helps keep shedding to a minimum.How often should I groom my Barbet?Barbets should be groomed at least once a week and trimmed every three to four months.Do Barbets require a lot of exercise?Yes, Barbets are an active breed that require regular exercise and mental stimulation. Read the full article

#Meowk9 Dog_Breeds Barbet

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galar-ranger-magnus · 2 years ago

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Took myself a long needed break from work and coordinator stuff to get back into drawing and “documenting” variants just on the outskirts of Freezepoint where farmlands can be found

Many thanks Opal for the Crown Pass and Armor Pass. I’m certain I’m also freely able to come and go due to me being a Ranger. But when I’m off-time, I’m just a normal civilian…

And saw this wonderful Highland Tauros

Though mostly found outside of Galar, some of these wonderful cows have been transported into the Galar region supposedly by some guy who wanted it as a pet. You know how it goes with that Pikachu/Eevee situation. They breed too much and get released- anyway

These Highland Tauros shaggy coat helps it survive the cold Scottish winter. Their undercoats keep them warm, while their longer guard hairs protect them from the rain and snow. During the summer they shed most of this hair, to prevent them from overheating.

Highland cows are raised primarily for their meat, which is growing in popularity due to being lower in cholesterol than other forms of beef. These cattle are a hardy breed, designed to withstand the conditions in the Galarian Highlands.

These lovely Tauros also exist in the Isle of Armor but these one are a little more special. You may have noticed the hoops that are a darker shade. These Tauros were specifically bred to have long fur near the ears that can be braided in certain ways.

In the wild, Highland Tauros’ ear fur is naturally much shorter due to the hairs getting snagged on branches and small trees

[Clair] These fantastic beasts have a reputation for their fantastic temperament, not a moo-dy cow in sight! They are known for being a very docile animal, never showing any aggression and are very low stress to keep and manage. Within their herds they have a great understanding of their own social hierarchy and never fight

These animals have relatively docile temperament and are of good behavior. The cows are pretty good milkers, excellent mothers and very protective of their young. Milk of the cows is of good quality with a high butterfat content. Currently the breed is mainly used for meat production.

—

Unlike its normal Tauros branch, this version is Normal/Fairy with completely different abilities and a few new moves in its arsenal

Abilities: Thick Fat/Sap Sipper

Hidden Abilities: Unnerve

New Moves Discovered: Horn Leech, Play Rough, Dazzling Gleam, Moonblast, Moonlight, Crafty Shield, Glare

— Extra Notes —

-In the wild, Highland Tauros live in herds alongside Milktank and coexist with Pokémon like bird types, the happiny line, and the buneary line

-Wild Highland Tauros can often be found with flowers tied to their long furs with the help of Milktank and Chansey/Blissey to help cover up the scent of mud and dirt clumping to their long fur until they can get to the next body of water

-Highlands often rely on fellow Highlands or other nearby pokemon to groom their long coats

-Bird types can be found plucking at Highlands’ fur at the start of the spring to build their nests with

-Their extended, sedentary lifestyle of domestication, has led to them developing a close bond with nature. They're famous for their long naps, rivaling even the most slothful Snorlax. By the time they wake up, flowers have already grown on their shaggy locks, providing the tauros with a natural supply of nutrients. [Credit: @geminey]

#magnus’ little album #ranger clair #pokeblog #sketch #fakemon #Pokémon variant #highland cow

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static-fanatic-1 · 4 years ago

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Chrollo + Phantom Troupe Teaser

Word Count: 5.2k

(Teaser my ass, holy shit this is going to be a long one)

Name: (y/n) Kurta

Nen Type: Conjurer

Nen Ability: Terracotta gauntlets with a lion head on top of the hand. The lion head can detach from the clawed gauntlets and act as physics-defying grappling hooks.

Example of Ability: You can use the grappling hooks to grab and throw whatever is caught, this can include people or other large objects. It will feel fairly weightless.

| Part 2 |

~~~

You remember the day perfectly, it was humid and moist, yet just cool enough to stop you from sweating. You had on your usual Kurta garb, purple and yellow with symbols and designs in honor of your heritage. You stayed home that day, being two months pregnant with your future child made your father worry too much.

You were barely showing at this point, but he still kept you home despite your line of work. You were a protector of sorts, a guard to your clan, keeping everyone protected as well as leaving to explore the world and bring back new things. You enjoyed your job, but your sweet old man didn't want you to over exert yourself.

"When you leave again you'll have to bring your secret lover." Your father would constantly start. "I bet he's a gentleman considering what your mother taught you." A fatherly smile gleaming over his wrinkling features. "If he runs off I'll hunt him down and strap him to our dinner table." He would joke.

You would lightly scold your father, knowing he would surely follow his words. "Stop. Keep acting like that and you'll chase him away."

You sighed at the fond memories, glancing out the window of the kitchen to watch the bright sun set below the horizon line. Deep purples and rich oranges decorated the clouds in a comforting glow. Another color, rich and warm, too warm, littered the skies. Coal black smoke rose above the tree tops and covered the beautiful sky in a suffocating cloak.

A lump got caught in your throat at the sight, you knew the colors and smoke anywhere, the burning trash of Meteor City making it a familiar sight. The smell too, burning your nostrils and making you cringe further confirmed what was happening.

Fire. Burning, raging fire was engulfing the village and eating it whole. Screams and cries for help filled the air as buildings crumpled into the ground. That was your call to action, you jumped out of your window and summoned up your nen, claws outstretched and prepared to slice any unknown mother fucker you could find.

You found one, a dark silhouette in the night with a slim build and intense pink aura coming from their hands. It felt familiar, the aura, but you didn't pay it any mind before shooting out the lion head on your gauntlets.

With chattering teeth they by harshly into the figure's forearms, dragging them across the floor and above your head into a burning building behind you. You cried and quickly jumped on the figure, slicing at their chest. Large, long gashes oozed out buckets of blood, and you quickly silenced the figure's cries with a even deeper gash to the throat... their head now hanging by a thin thread of flesh.

The blood that coated your nen gauntlets were nothing compared to the crimson that flooded your eyes. You would slaughter anyone that was not a clan member, you swore on that. Looking around your red tinted gaze fell upon the horrors caused by the raiders.

Bodies, bloodied and broken beyond recognition littered the ground. You wobbled over to one of them, barely making out who it was, an elderly woman you could almost call a grandmother. Her wrinkled features were slack and littered with blood, but the empty, oozing sockets where her eyes should be haunted your nightmares. You wailed louder than the dying screams, fat tears streaming down your cheeks and landing in the empty holes.

"Papa!" You shrieked, stumbling up off the ground and rushing further into the carnage. Your legs barely kept up as you rushed past the fire ridden village. "PAPA!" You screeched into the crackling night.

You paused, breath caught in your throat making you choke on the smoke. There was a silhouette shrouded by ash and darkness and flames, a distinguishable fur coat lining its figure. You gagged at the smoke, hiding behind a broken building to listen to the mumbling figure.

"Has anyone found her?" A smooth, honey like voice echoed past the dying screams.

Chrollo? Wha-? What's going on?! You stumbled on a piece of debris, tripling and falling onto a warm, bloodied corpse. You gave out a strained whimper, almost a shriek, as you tried to collect yourself and run away.

You could hear him behind you, you could almost feel him behind you. His nen spilled from his pores and surrounded you in a suffocating hold. You quietly gagged, hand over your mouth as you held back the bile rising in your throat. Tears pricked the edges of your eyes, blurring your vision with smoke and tears.

~~~

You bit your bottom lip, whipping your hair over your shoulder and staring at the man across from you. He was large, muscles bulging through the thin black shirt he wore, yet he was no where near strong enough to take you down. Theoretically, the only person out of this year's batch of hunters that could possibly stand against you was yourself and that clown whom got his ass kicked out for attacking one of the wardens. This guy was no where near your level, you couldn't even sense any nen.

"What's wrong little girl?" He spat, crouching down and preparing to bulldoze you. "Shaking in your boots?"

You narrowed your eyes with a scowl, scoffing and looking at the chairman across the plaza. "Hardly."

The large man growled and dashed with his arms out stretched. Typical. You jumped high into the air and twisted around, your leg coming back down on his thick skull. Your foot clashed against the crown of his head and shoved his face into the ground, bringing him to a dead stop. Jumping back to the ground you inspected the damage, the floor was cracked and you could barely see his head past the new hole in the ground. The man wasn't moving, you knocked him out.

There was some clapping from the end of the plaza, shoes clacking against tile as he wondered closer. His steel grey eyes trailed down to your chest as he neared, old perv. "I'm a little disappointed." He mused, looking back up to meet your stern gaze. "I thought he would have a better chance against you. Though, it's always a treat to see a first timer beat the Hunter Exam."

You lightly smiled at the praise, a small memory of your father coming into mind. "I appreciate it."

Netero grinned at your words, but it slightly faltered when he glanced back at the designs of your clothes. "So, what hunter are you aiming to be?" He started as he shuffled through his clothes.

"Bounty Hunter, there are a few people I want to find."

"The Phantom Troupe, hm? I can't blame you, they have done some pretty horrible things."

You glanced over at the old man, your gaze being met with a knowing expression and a Hunter License. "Thanks...." You warily replied, taking hold of your new license. It should serve you well, you hoped.

A few hours later you wondered into the fancy hotel you were staying at. A few strangers glanced at you with a disgusted look, you couldn't blame them as you were still covered in dirt, leaves and a few splotches of blood. A tired sigh escaped your lips once you finally got to your room, taking the card and swiping it you entered with a delicate smile. "Kurapika! (S/n)! Where are you guys?"

A tuft of blond hair wizzes past the corner of the small living room. Dark grey eyes quickly following and staring back at you with a disgruntled expression. "Your son is a handful." Spat Kurapika.

Behind him a small, pale skinned figure peeked behind the corner, a cheeky grin plastered on his chubby face. "Momma!" He screeched, rushing over and running into your waiting arms.

You gave him a kiss on his forehead, using your hand to push away his fluffy raven hair. "Pretty sure you were the handful Kurapika, no way this little angel was was trouble."

Kurapika slightly smiled, closing his eyes and shaking his head. "Only when you are around, anyway, how did it go?"

You sighed and sat on the marble flooring. "It was really easy, but I've had the training for it to be easy. You will probably have a hard time, especially if that clown shows up again." You mumbled the last part, moving to the kitchen to grab you a snack, you were starving.

"Then teach me the "magic" you claim to know."

"I wanna see magic! Momma can you teach me too?" You took a big bite out of your snack, giving a glare to both of the kids.

"Sorry squirt, when you get older I'll teach you."

Kurapika furrowed his brows. "You keep telling me that if I pass the hunter exam you'll teach me."

"Change of plans-"

"Change of plans?! What do you mean change of plans? I still don't understand why you won't teach me this "magic" you keep talking about! I would be strong enough to fight the Phantom-"

"Kurapika." You sternly glared in his direction, the look in your eyes forcing everyone to quite down. "You know I don't want you to even get involved with this. Besides the change of plans isn't that bad, I want you to figure out this "magic" thing yourself and return when you are ready. I still want to teach you, but I don't want you to get killed in the process.

"I have a plan to find and hunt down the Troupe, but it will take time. If you aren't ready by the time I am, you will not be permitted to help. Instead you will stay somewhere safe and take care of (s/n) for me."

Kurpaika's dark grey eyes stared into the back of your head and burned holes into your skull. "Are you serious?"

"Yes, yes I am. Even if you learn this "magic" there is no telling how powerful you will become. Even with years and years of rigorous training like myself, I won't stand a chance against more than two of them at a time." You kept your stance, standing tall above the blond you called a little brother. "I don't want to see you get hurt, Kurapika. I can't see you get hurt."

Your son waddled over to your tense form and wrapped his shirt arms around your thighs. "He won't get hurt momma, I'll make sure of it!" A beaming smile did it's best to comfort you.

"I know you will, (s/n)." You turned your attention back to the blond, giving him a stern stare that told him you meant what you said. "I want to protect him too."

Kurapika growled, you knew how important finding and slaughtering the Troupe was to him, so why make it so difficult? Wouldn't it be easier to teach him and make him stronger so the both of you can fight?

You looked away from the blond as he stormed into one of the off rooms, you knew what he was thinking, but that wouldn't change your mind. You blamed yourself for your clan's slaughter and you wouldn't be able to live if he was to die too. You didn't want him to get involved in our own affairs, especially when they were so dangerous.

"Momma," You glanced down at the head of fluffy black hair still clinging to your legs. "Why do you and Uncle Kurapika argue so much? Who is this Phantom Troupe?" His chuffs cheeks puffed out, his brows furrowing in thought.

"(S/n)... it's a long story. One you aren't old enough to hear I'm afraid." You leaned down, picked him up, and rubbed your nose to his own rosy one. "Till then I'll keep you safe."

"From the Troupe?"

You glanced away form his coal black eyes, the painful memories a bit too much to handle at the moment. "From monsters that want to hurt you." You planted a kiss on his forehead, wiping away some of the scars burned into your mind.

~~~

You were going to strangle that boy when you find him. With gritted teeth and blazing eyes, you haven't been this pissed off in years. You stomped over to the glass window of the hotel room your all too kind employer provided.

You gave him simple instructions, go off and figure out the basics of "magic", and then return for more training. It was supposed to be a test for the rebellious teen.

That's what it was supposed to be. Instead, he decided he had enough of you and left to find the Troupe on his own, leaving your precious son to be alone in a secure hotel room while you worked. You might just kill Kurapika next time you see him.

You fanned down the small wrinkles on your slim dress, straightening out the slit that trailed to your thigh. It was black and long enough to trail behind your tall heels. Around your neck was a pearl necklace and a fur scarf hanging on your shoulders. Your hair was curled and allowed to flow freely behind you. You also had some pearl earrings and a pearl bracelet.

Swiping the last of your lipstick on, pursing your lips and giving them a little smack before turning to the small child on the couch. His eyes were glued to a puzzle he decided was more interesting than the television. "(S/n), I'm going to have to go in a minute. You'll be fine right?"

Doe eyes glanced back at you, a puzzle piece tightly held in his hands. "I'll be fine!"

"You remember the rules right?"

"No leaving without you or Kurapika, don't answer the door unless it is you or Kurapika, make sure I call you if something is wrong or when I go to bed,-"

"I get it." You waved a hand in his face, a gentle smile etched onto your painted lips. "My smart little boy remembers everything."

He nodded, leaning into the backside of the couch to wrangle you into a hug. "Come back soon!"

"I will, don't worry. Love you."

"Love you too."

You were off, leaving and meeting with your employer at his hotel before making your way to a dinner with a few high end Mafia men. You quickly met up with the man, he was a son to one of the ten dons and hired you as both a body guard and a rental girlfriend. A little demeaning in your eyes but anything to get close to your targets.

"You look stunning." Mentioned the man, his arm linking with your own. He was a handsome man, that was obvious, a real charmer too. With chocolate brown hair slicked back and bright green eyes you could stare at for an eternity. He was broad shouldered and muscular underneath his crisp dark grey suit, a pale yellow under shirt and a maroon tie adding to his attractiveness. The poor flirt would be dead if you outwardly admitted that though.

"Likewise." Your hand placed itself on top his forearm, letting him guide you to the fancy limousine he had for the two of you.

You decided conversation would be the best thing at the moment, as getting to know a man you are supposed to temporarily date would be best for the illusion. "Where are we going to meet your father?"

"Ah, a nice restaurant just a few blocks uptown from the auction site." He directed his head to take your facial features in. "They have the best steak I've ever had, amazing garlic butter."

You were beyond tense, but a relaxed smile crept onto your lips. "I just might have to try that. Who else is coming?"

"My father's friends, one is another don, and my two other brothers. I wouldn't worry though, they might ask you a few questions but I would just let me do the talking." He gave you a kind smile, turning back to the driver and telling him the name of the restaurant.

"I don't mean to be rude, but if anything happens I'll have to leave and take care of it."

"Oh! I know, they know. My family actually told me to, uh, rent a girlfriend for the auction days." He ran a hand through his chocolate locks, a sigh escaping his lips and he relaxed in his chair. "Rumor has it that something bad might happen during this auction. Something about sleeping? Like death."

"If that's the case, then I might have to take an early leave."

He gave you a cocky grin. "Just tell me what's happening outside the restaurant, I'm curious about what kind of stuff a hunter gets into."

You returned his gaze, finally relaxing just a bit more. "I'll make sure to keep you posted."

"Sir," alerted the driver. "We're here."

"Good! Let's get something to eat, shall we?"

You nodded, sliding your dress to the side to exit the vehicle. "Oh! Please, don't make me look bad." He jested, quickly shuffling to your side to open the door. "I'll embarrass myself in front of my dad."

"About that, I never introduced myself did I? My name is (y/n)."

He gave a dopey grin. "Right, I'm Jason, it probably would be a good idea to know each other's names, huh? Well, let's go before my dad thinks we are doing something suggestive." He winked and held out his arm for you to take, in which you did with a small scoff.

The two of you walked into the restaurant, a grand archway with a fancy chandelier lighting up the entire entrance with a warm glow. Black marble coated the floor with a glossy reflection, and your heels clicked against them with an elegant sway of your dress.

A man stood at the enterence, another shorter version of Jason. "Ah, Jason! How've you been?" He glanced over at you and gave a devilish grin. "Wow, what a catch. Maybe she'll decide to stay?"

The new stranger sauntered over, a shoulder being wrapped around your shoulders. "If he isn't your type I'm always available. Jackson, by the way." He whispered in your ear with a raspy tone.

"Ignore him," Jason mumbled to you, his cheeks slightly flushed in embarrassment, "He's always like this with any human of the female gender."

Humor yourself, or let the poor man walk away with some of his dignity intact? Nah, if you were going to give some of your dignity with these men you might as well have some fun. "You poor thing," You began, turning with a gentle smile to the brother. "Can't keep it in his pants, hmm?" You softly patted the fluffy hair on his head and pouted, shuffling out of his grip and wrapping your arm back with Jason. "Better luck next time." You retorted with a little wave.

With his breath caught in his throat, he coughed and turned to the direction of where their table was. "The tables this way, dad's already there." His mumbling quieted down as he led the way.

Jason turned to you, kept in a laugh, and shrugged. The restaurant was warm along with the cozy glow of the chandeliers hanging from the tall roof. There were many tables, black with cushioned chairs and blazing candles.

Your eyes zeroed on the candles, the beautifully dangerous flame causing you to start sweating. You gulped down the lump in your throat and forced yourself to relax your tensing limbs. 'It's just a small flame, nothing to be afraid of.' You scolded yourself.

The two of you wondered into a private room in the back. There was a large, round, black table in the center of the room, a few couches on the walls with side tables. There were a few candles in the center along with a crystal vase filled with blood red roses. As much as you loved the roses, they reminded you of him.

To distract yourself you glanced around the room, the father and Jackson were conversing, the other son sitting and listening. Jackson pointed in your direction, a sly smirk on his face.

Jason leaned in. "That's my dad," he pointed over to one of the other walls near the couch. A man was leaning on the side, his crisp suit wrinkling with his crossed legs. He had a beard, small but neat, with deep blue eyes and tan flesh. "That is Manchile, he's the Don I was talking about."

There were a few other notable people, but when Jason and you entered the entire room lightened up. The father stood and sauntered over, a sleazy smile gracing his gruff features. "I hope Jason didn't make a move on you?" He extended his hand, slightly calloused from use, but large and warm.

You took it with a gentle smile, time to suck up your pride and be a darling. "I wouldn't worry about him, he's quite the gentleman." Your hand was in worse shape than his, more rough, and must have noticed. The father's face changed into one of surprise and respect. "I'd watch out for that one though." You pointed to Jackson, the man lightly scoffing with a grin.

"Will do." He said with a chuckle.

Manchile joined the table, a few of his men sitting down too. "I'm starved, let's eat."

"Sure thing." The father returned his attention to Jason and you. "Ladies first."

The table was filled, and you ended up being sandwiched between Jason and Manchile. Your eyes would periodically go back to the candles in front of you, and all you could do was twist a small bit of your dress skirt to calm your nerves. You all ordered, and you took your date's advice with the steak.

As you were waiting, the unknown brother, leaned in and gave you a curious smile. "So, a hunter huh? I've never met one, what's it like?"

All eyes were on you now, and you relaxed with the distraction. "It's dangerous work... but if you were trained correctly then it is worth it. Plenty of benefits as long as you hunt something."

"Who trained you?" His green eyes gleamed begins his thin glasses. "Sorry if I'm prying, just curious."

"I don't mind. I trained myself. I've always wanted to become a hunter."

"Really? Ooh, what about the test? I've heard it's impossible!"

You slightly smiled, Manchile leaning in and joining the conversation. "Some of my men are hunters, they talked about fighting each other and impossible puzzles. My best man had to find the damned test four times before he made it."

You cocked an eyebrow. "Well he's not wrong. All the tests are different but we did have to fight each other. There were some puzzles but I didn't think they were that difficult...." You locked your lipstick and took a sip of your water, keeping your posture and chin held high. "Four times huh? I got my license on my first try."

Manchile cackled in his water cup. "Really? You make my best look like babies." The waiter returned with a large bottle of red wine and began to pour it to everyone who wanted some. You declined, drinking on the job wouldn't bid well if something happened. "Next your going to say you could win against one of the beasts."

You stayed silent, doing your best to keep your smile hidden behind your glass of water. Jason peeked over and noticed your curled lips. "No way, seriously?"

"Not sure, never tried." You commented, giving him a cocky side eye. "But probably."

It was the father's turn to laugh, Jackson joining in with some bread in his hands. "Come on, no one's stronger than the beasts. You've got to be crazy."

The father butted in with a joke. "You're a bounty hunter right? You didn't come here to take us out, hmm?"

"No, no, that'd be bad for business. I'm actually after the Phantom Troupe." The table quieted down, so you continued. "Rumor has it some people will 'sleep' tonight, take that as you will, I'm just here for security purposes. More or less."

Manchile waved over a waiter and asked for another bottle before asking some more questions. "You think they will attack? What makes you think they are crazy enough to challenge the mafia?"

"Well, I will admit I don't have proof, but it would be a missed opportunity. I mean if people are going to 'sleep' then the only criminals crazy enough to try anything would be the Troupe. They are also strong enough to do so. I guess you could say it's a hunch."

A few new waiters entered with the food. They set it on the table, asked if we needed anything else, and left.

"Well, son, you found one interesting woman, huh?"

Jason gave a breathy laugh, as if he was trying to keep his nerves together. "Yeah, I guess I did."

The current conversation died out and turned into useless banter. What they wanted to get from the auctions, who they would be fighting it for, money, fame, glory, all of it. Jason leaned over and asked if you wanted something, but you declined the generous offer. You knew there would be Kurt's eyes, but buying them seemed a bit off. Almost like cheating.

You wanted to collect them through force, just like they did, only then will you be satisfied. Still, you appreciated the offer and made sure he knew you did.

Everything was calm, the food was hot and the candles became a later memory from the conversations you were listening in on. That was until a sudden ding echoed in the private room. Then another, and another, and quickly everyone's phones rang of emergency alerts and messages.

You didn't have to glance over Jason's shoulder to see the message, you already knew what happened. Still, a part of you checked to make sure you didn't have to leave the welcoming lot of individuals.

You didn't know wether to be disappointed or excited, but either way you faced your date. "I'll head over to the auction house to investigate—"

"We all will." Commanded the father. "The merchandise is missing, as well as everyone else."

"Everyone else?"

Manchile pulled himself from his seat. "Owl grabbed the stuff before shit went down. But everyone in the auction house is gone, poof, missing." There was another synchronized ding. "There's a hot air balloon heading south."

"In the direction of Meteor City?" You commented, already heading towards the door. "I'll head over there. Keep me informed, I need a list of the people missing and a list of people chasing down the balloon. Anything else of importance will help." You pointed to Jason, but he held out his hand.

"Do you think it's the Troupe?"

You turned and stared into his chocolate eyes, his brows furrowed with worry. So you smiled kindly. "I know it's the Troupe."

"Get the Shadow Beasts." The father's voice trailed off behind the door.

You were calm as you walked through the restaurant, the hectic banter of the trailing mafia men closely behind. They passed you and exited, you quickly following suit. The outside air was crisp and humid from an old rain and the clouds coated the sky like a blanket.

"Are you calling them Jared?"

"Hurry and get worm on the phone Jackson!"

"You already have the merchandise? Good, good, keep it safe and get the others. Worm, Rabid Dog, Porcupine, and Leech are already on their way."

"(Y/n)! If it's the Troupe you should wait for the other beasts and go with them. Just to be safe." Jason held your hand, finally noticing the toughness of your overworked hands. His were soft, raised with little trouble unlike yourself.

"I'll be fine, I'm strong enough to last against one, maybe two of the members if I'm lucky." You slipped your hand from his grip and tore off your expensive heels, no need for them to get ruined like your dress. "Can you hold these for me? I'd hate for them to get dirty." You handed him your pearls, leaving the earrings because they wouldn't get caught on anything. "I'll have to come back and get them."

You smiled at him again and summoned your gauntlets, dashing off to catch a hot air balloon. He stared at your disappearing form, a clear as day blush spread across his cheeks.

~~~

You made it after a while of running, but the battle had already begun. You stationed yourself on top of the plateau surrounding the battlefield, and already you scolded yourself for not trying to keep the beasts as back-up.

Their bodies littered the floors and blood soaked the dry earth. Biting your lip, you assessed the playing field. Uvogin sat alone, a hairy man you could only assume was the Porcupine character stuck to his fist. The rest of the Troupe members, not all of them, sat along the sides with cards in their hands. Machi, Nobunaga, Feitan, Franklin, Shizuku and Shalnark. You wondered if that was everyone or if someone was hiding.

Next was a few mafia men smart enough to not engage in battle, but why haven't they run off yet? You would have taken more care in who they might be, but you were quickly cut off with an ear piercing scream. You covered your ears and crouched down further, wincing at your late reaction.

Uvogin smiled and waited. Blood spurt from Porcupine's ears and not a moment later he fell to the floor with a dead eyed thud. The mafia men began to make their move, so you wondered closer to where they were stationed.

Then it happened, chains tightly wound themselves around Uvogin and tugged him into oblivion. Chains... chains! Kurapika! With your new revelation you ran towards the car everyone was piling into. But in no time Uvogin was packed in and they began their drive away.

With a low growl you sprinted faster and jumped off the cliff side and towards the first car. You tumbled onto the roof, denting it underneath the impact, and attached yourself with your gauntlets.

Your burning rage dismissed the passenger's window, and you smashed into it without care for who was on the other side. Gripping their shirt and almost pulling them out, the frightened girl screeching. "Kurapika!"

Two pairs of red eyes stared into each other's souls. He knew he was in deep shit. "(Y/n)-"

"Don't you fucking dare." You snapped, pointing your finger to the man tied up in the backseat., but your eyes stayed glued on the blond. "I swear to god if I hear any bullshit I'm going to tear a tongue out!"

"Someone's in a pissy mood." A deep voice reverberated through the small confines of the black car. Finally, you glared at the man in the back seat, his entire body tied under nen chains.

"Eat lead Uvo."

"Already checked off the bucket list (y/n/n)."

God, you hated that nickname.

#yandere hunter x hunter #yandere hxh #yandere phantom troupe #yandere chrollo lucilfer #Yandere chrollo #Yandere Phantom Troupe x reader #Yandere chrollo x reader #just a teaser because this one is a long one #Kurta reader #fem reader #Yandere x reader #not even a teaser literally probably the first half #maybe the first third of the full fiction #Yandere hunter x hunter fanfic #puttin grandom tags cause it’s late #love you guys #strong reader

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feastfic · 4 years ago

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Part two of leetle baby legendary Pokemon, this time starring Gen 4! (Oh yeah baby, we're going in no particular order >:) )

Uxie, Mesprit, and Azelf (The Lake Trio): These three, no matter how far apart they may have hatched from each other, always seem to hatch at nearly the exact same time. It's been theorized that even before they emerge, their psychic abilities are linked to one another. Upon their hatching, they live purely in their respective lakes for several years, much like how some tadpoles do. As they grow, their tail splits into two, as they no longer need the strength for propulsion through water, and their psychic powers have gotten stronger. Along with their growth, their crests become more defined; the three upon immediate hatching are almost impossible to tell apart, because their crests haven't yet formed.

Manaphy and Phione: A new Manaphy born into the world is exceedingly rare, however once one is born, it lives amongst Phione until it reaches maturity. It lives among that year's brood of new Phione, intergrating into the population without any problems. Both of these Pokemon use small fins for directional turning, however Manaphy actually swims. Phione, especially as babies, use the ocean currents to guide where they will go; hence their enlarged air sac on their head.

Shaymin: The young of Shaymin are called pups by the majority of people, despite their hedgehog appearance. Born coated in thick, bushy fur, pups navigate their world through sound, taste, and smell alone for the first few months of their life. Their growth can be marked by how many "sheds" a pup has had; a shed is counted when a Shaymin loses a considerable chunk of its fur, typically coming out in clumps that can be collected and used for commercial use. After the third shed, a Shaymin pup will be able to see, and after its fifth shed leaves will begin to form along its neck. It isn't until it's fully grown will a Shaymin have budded flowers.

Heatran: Born in volcanic pits, a baby Heatran looks only vaguely like its adult form. Covered by a shield-like plate and obsidian-black, Heatran young scour the surface of both active and dormant volcanoes feeding, using their plates and coloring to defend and camouflage themselves. Eventually they outgrow their plate, until it becomes more of a crest- their growth also drives them further into volcanoes, where magma runs more actively and is hotter. It's still debated whether ingesting rocks and magma initiate a Heatran's color change, or if it changes to still blend in with its surroundings.

Cresselia: While still young, Cresselia can still utilize its arms into grabbing things; this becomes impossible once its paws fuse to its chest, making it rely on its psychic abilities to manipulate objects. Its rings are more streaked when young- this, combined with its spotted coat, makes it appear like it truly came from space. It spends much of its time at high altitudes, sometimes it is even capable of dwelling in space for a period of time. The spots on its coat serve to mimic the moon's craters, although they slowly fade away over time.

Regigigas: After so long, it is still unknown where exactly a new Regigigas is born. It remains secretive and seclusive for much of its life, and the excess shrubbery it dons while young serves a testament to its ability to hide. On the extremely rare occasions one has been found, they're typically seen constructing things from the earth around itself, or from the elements of its environment. However, at such a young and undeveloped age, it cannot bring to life its creations, nor can it move land as told in the legends surrounding it.

Darkrai: Resembling an adult from the start, young Darkrai tend to be even more secretive (but also more aggressively defend their territories, because their range is smaller.) Little has been documented on the growth/development of Darkrai, but assumptions have been made that it relies on its legs less while young, and progressively uses them more as it matures. Just like its adult counterpart, it is equally able to deal nightmares to anyone within its domain, possessing the same amount of control as it would were it fully grown.

Palkia: Born in the depths of space, a nymph will descend to Earth and live in the deepest parts of the ocean until mature. Based off of both stonefly and dragonfly nymphs, Palkia has no sign of wings until it emerges from its watery habitat. Here its fins will shrink, and fat reserves kept in its tail will be depleted whilst it lies and develops into adulthood.

Dialga: Born in only one color, the underbelly of Dialga is transparent, revealing the unnatural teal blood that courses through its body. The hard metal scales on it remain soft for several ages, and the frill on its rump doesn't stand erect until nearly a millennia passes. With age it develops tougher, thicker skin, although parts of its body remain transparent where one can still see blood pumping its veins. Extremely solitary, a young Dialga tolerates outsiders of its territory for as long as it wants; once it doesn't want someone there, it will make its desire known.

Giratina: Native to the Distortion World, the lack of gravity allows Giratina to grow with a film binding its wings to its body until it grows. During this stage, its body can appear black and shiny; this is the film reflecting light, and its wings simply encapsulating its body. There appears to be no hindrance to Giratina when the film is still present- once its shed, it is also typically eaten by Giratina for the nutritional value. Since it resides in the Distortion World even when a baby, Giratina's Altered Forme has never been documented using a hatchling as evidence.

Arceus: There's only speculation about how the Pokemon god grew up, but several assumptions have been made and universally agreed upon. Even when growing, Arceus held the power to create worlds and life; while it developed its capabilities, it used natural evolution to enhance its first lifeforms, then branched out and created more planets, more life, and everything in the universe. The framework surrounding its body may also have started off as simply a ring around its abdomen, not developing spines until it aged with the rest of the universe.

#pokemon #Arceus #dialga #Palkia #regigigas #Heatran #cresselia #Darkrai #Manaphy #Phione #uxie #azelf #Mesprit #Giratina #Shaymin

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pleathewrites · 3 years ago

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Candles in the Sun

chapter 2: child of a thousand generations

TRIGGER WARNING: IMPLIED SEXUAL ASSAULT: starts with "When soulmates are recognized, the experience is similar to sharing a body.." and ends with "... And then it was over"

Curses are molten versions of souls - given the blessing of being able to feel what bleeds through the universe, but unable to experience as would a human

When Chiyoko rises, it is next to the body of a dead woman.

‘My body,’ They recognize. Their past life is dissected grotesquely, ribcage pried open with a silver instrument, the person working over their corpse continuing to scoop out their guts as if Chiyoko isn’t even there.

Which, kind of makes sense.

In fact, Chiyoko barely feels as if they really are sitting on a cold, metal slab of an autopsy table. There's no friction, no temperature.

It clicks.

‘So this is what Sukuna meant by the life of a curse. Undetected by humans. Unfeeling.’

Chiyoko is unsure of what is going on. But there is a pull, a calling, and they know exactly where to go.

And on, they go.

However, when they got there, they expected a much less… hostile welcome.

When Chiyoko enters the ‘Tokyo Metropolitan Curse Technical College’, they are immediately surrounded by six teenagers, all pointing some form of weapon at them.

‘They can see me. Sorcerers. Like Sukuna.’

Chiyoko’s hands immediately fly up in surrender, “Wait.”

A girl with green hair and glasses tightens her grip on her sword and steps slightly closer. The slight prick of metal against Chiyoko’s breastbone is the first thing they’ve felt ever since they arose.

The girl sneers, “Who are you and what are you doing here? Fucking hell, haven’t you curses done enough!”

“Maki!” The panda - ‘A fucking panda. Animals can speak in human tongue? Sukuna failed to mention that was possible.’ - yells in warning, “This curse’s energy… I’ve never felt anything like it. It is beyond that of what we consider to be Special Grades.”

Chiyoko decides now would be a good time to talk, judging by the slight bits of fear she feels rolling off the kids, “I wish no harm. Please, I am looking for someone.”

The panda speaks, “Who?”

Chiyoko looks into the panda’s eyes and knows that they are not the soul that had brought them here. Chiyoko scans the eyes of each child until their eyes rest on dark blue oceans that hold nothing but grief and anger.

His soul glows at Chiyoko’s.

‘Aha.’

They speak to this boy, “He is called Ryomen Sukuna.”

Almost immediately, Chiyoko knows this was the worst possible thing to have said.

The boy’s soul screams.

He does something with his hands, and suddenly a large wolf stands by his side and Chiyoko feels immense hatred burn off his soul as he spits, “Who the fuck are you?”

Chiyoko is horrified. This boy’s soul is tattered.

Chiyoko’s moving before they give themselves time to think, one step in front of the other, and within a second, they are in front of the boy. Chiyoko honestly had no idea they had become so fast.

They drop to their knees, and right when each of the other five kids is about to attack, the boy’s demon dog licks a fat stripe across Chiyoko’s face - chin to temple.

The silence is almost deafening. Chiyoko continues to stroke the thick fur of the boy’s wolf, coat soft under their hands. Chiyoko quickly realizes this wolf is made of the same stuff they are - ‘curse.’

“I assume your… shadowed-familiar attacks curse-threats,” Chiyoko smiles as they give the wolf one last scratch behind the ear before they rise to face the boy. His eyes are wide and his jaw is slacked. “Somehow, your soul called to mine. I feel a connection, but it feels more… through and of you, rather than to you. May I touch your soul?”

“Get the fuck away from him,” The green-haired girl - ‘Maki, I believe?’ - snaps, threat heavy in her voice.

“Wait,” And finally, the blue-eyed boy speaks, “Maki, just wait. My demon dogs have never failed to follow through with an attack on a curse. They even attacked Sukuna,” And Chiyoko schools their expression to make sure they didn’t completely balk at that because, ‘what the hell is Sukuna doing fighting a bunch of kids?’

The black-haired swordsman to Chiyoko’s right speaks up, “And what if they have the same ability as Mahito?”

At that, the boy in question lets out a chuckle, but it’s a horrible, lackluster thing, “So? What do I have to lose?”

“Fushiguro - ”

“Go ahead,” The boy - ‘Fushiguro’ - straightens his spine and looks at Chiyoko, dead-on.

Chiyoko’s eyebrows furrow, but they place a hand upon the boy’s chest and reach in.

Bright light emits from the point of contact and grows, swallowing the entire room.

And Chiyoko sees everything: The pink-haired vessel, the achingly familiar tattooed markings of Sukuna, the entrapment of a father, the death of a friend.

By the time Chiyoko is pulling back, they feel their own heart crack for the boy in front of them, the weight of his pain crushing Chiyoko’s lungs.

With a newfound determination, completely forgoing the original reason they had come to this high school, they tell the boy, “Take me to her resting site. Kugisaki Nobara.”

(“What do you have there?”

“Gojo Satorou. Heard you don’t like him very much.”

“Give me the box.”

The vessel of Getou Suguru hands Sukuna the Prison Realm like an offering, presented prettily in two hands while his head and spine remained bowed.

Sukuna takes the box, and with a flick of his fingers, opens it.

Getou’s vessel gapes, “Wait - ”

“You have three seconds to get lost.”

The ‘or else’ is heavily implied, and the curse that occupies Getou’s body knows exactly what’ll happen to him if he disobeys.

After three seconds, the unconscious body of Gojo Satorou lies on the ground.

Sukuna crushes the Prison Realm in his palm and takes his leave. )

The body of a young girl lies on a table exactly like the one Chiyoko had risen on.

The girl’s torso had been torn to shreds, judging by the amount of stitchwork across milky skin. The left side of her skull had suffered some kind of explosion, resulting in the loss of an eye. Chiyoko knows the girl had been in agony during the last moments of her death, and despair bleeds throughout their entire body - no child should have to die in such a way.

Six pairs of eyes are watching Chiyoko’s every move, but they pay no mind as they reach for Megumi’s hand and press the other to the left of Nobara’s chest. Chiyoko concentrates on the bits of Nobara’s soul that are etched into Megmi’s and wills for the girl's energy to return back to her body - only a seedling is needed, for the soul roots itself at birth and grows with the body.

Kugisaki Nobara is going to be reborn.

Finally, blue light emits from the connection points of Chiyoko’s hands, and Chiyoko opens their body up for the two teen’s soul energies to travel through.

Blood begins to flush under deadened skin. Cells regenerate and fill missing gaps.

Warm brown eyes snap open.

CLICK TO CONTINUE READING CHAPTER ❤️‍🔥

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manychocolatefactories · 4 years ago

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CatCF Dark Chocolate: Part 1, the Kids

About this version:

This retelling was mostly inspired by the original book, as well as Dahl's first drafts for it. I wanted a more old-fashioned feeling to it: in this setting television is still only present in rich and upper-class houses, the regular people using newspaper and radios to get information. Imagine a mix of 40s and 50s with some touches of 60s thrown in.

You have here 8 Golden Tickets.

First winner: Augustus Pottle

(Based on Augustus Gloop )

Augustus Pottle is an enormously fat boy, with a head like a ball of dough and a body like a blimp. He bears an uncanny ressemblance to a pig: he has a pink and greasy skin, numerous folds of flesh and chins bulging out of his neck, small greedy eyes, and an upturned and always sniffing nose looking like a snout. All the outfits he wears are always much too tight for him or about to pop (and it doesn't help that he literaly gains weight the minute he eats something). He has two outfits during the story (inspired by the two outfits Quentin Blake drew for him): during his interview he wears a green jacket, brown pants and a turquoise shirt ; and during the tour he wears beige pants, a blue jacket and a white shirt with pink spots. Of course he can never wear his jackets and his shirts are always about to rip.

Eating is not just Augustus hobby and obsession - it is also his career. Augustus is considered a "champion" because he kept winning eating contests: the biggest eater, the fastest eater, the fattest eater... It all comes down to his mother, a thick lady wearing a lot of shiny but ugly jewelery. Mrs. Gloop always tried to find fame and attention, but when her attempts to find it at radio failed, she reported all her dreams on his son: he had inherited from his tall and bearded father a large and stout body. People were amazed at how big and gluttonous the boy was, and Mrs. Gloop thought it was an excellent way to get attention and fame. So she bred him to become the fattest and most gluttonous boy alive, so that everyone would look at him (and at her). It goes so far that Augustus is used to sleep in the dining room - being so full after meals he can't even pass the door to get up to his bedroom.

The excess of greasy and sugary food made his brain fat too, clogging it with blubber, and resulting in him being quite simple-minded. He only now has two thoughts in his brain. The first is "eat, eat, eat", he is a true glutton obsessed with eating and devouring. The second is "I'm a champion, I'm the best, I need to beat everyone else", he sees others as rivals and life as a contest, and his own fatness and gluttony is for him a sign of dominance over other people.

Second winner: Elvira Salt

(Based on Veruca Salt)

I wanted here to get away from the angry, screaming, demanding Veruca Salt, so I create this character.

Just like Veruca, Elvira is a spoiled and filfthy rich girl who thinks she can get everything she wants with money or by asking. But she is not an angry, screaming, bratty child. She rather believes it is natural and normal for her to have everything, or for money to solve every problem. She seems detached from the world. She doesn't think or believe one would say "No" to her, and basically considers the entire world to be a shop with people at her service, or a field from which she can pick flowers without a care.

She looks like a glamorous movie star of old, like Marilyn Monroe, always wearing elegant silk dresses and gloves and wearing fur coats (with furs of lovely and cute animals like guinea pigs, mink, chinchilla or rabbits). In fact, Elvira enjoys only things that are cute, pleasant or elegant. For example give her the biggest pearl in the world - if said pearl is actually ugly she will throw it out without a care. She is a girl that bathes in milk and honey, that has for a snack expensive truffes, foie gras, chocolate and champaign, that doesn't walk but get carried around, and that considers it normal for a young girl to receive as gifts emeralds, rubies, diamonds and other precious jewels. To put it shortly, she lives an extravagant and excentric life. Always smiling, always happy, always content, she basically lives in a world of luxury where misery, poverty or lack of money does not exist, and as a result actually forgets that other people around hers have needs and desires too. She thinks she is the princess of some sort of fairytales, and the others are just background characters here to serve her story.

For the tour, she wears a candy-pink velvet dress and a "fur" made of clubbed baby seals. As her father... well fun fact, Elvira sepnds so much money her father actually looks like a beggar or a homeless man, because he has no money left for himself - but a beggar with plump and thick wallets in his pockets.

Third winner: Violet Beauregard

(Based on Violet Beauregarde)

The Beauregard parents (who look so similar to each other it is difficult to say who is the father and who is the mother) are competition freaks. They are obsessed with their children being the best, breaking records, being a champion, earning trophies.

However, for their misery, they got Violet. Violet isn't good at sports, neither at school. She doesn't have any talent for anything. She doesn't have any interest or dreams. She is a plain, dull girl wearing plain and dull clothes, with dim eyes and a big mop of hair of an undetermined color. The only thing that stands out is her great, thick, muscular jaw - because her parents, desperate that they were, found a way for her to be a champion. Chewing gum. She spends her time chewing gum, so that would be her talent, isn't it? Her parents worked hard to make chewing a sportive and intellectual talent, making her break unexisting records of gum-chewing, organizing uninteresting chewing contests... They now think that their little girl deserves to be with Olympic champions just for chewing-gum, forgetting how useless and stupid this is.

They also extended her "abilities" to chewing other kind of foods and candies, including chewing chocolate bars: and here she found the Golden Ticket, which was a dream come true for the Beauregard parents, a perfect mediatic exposure! Fun fact: Violet chewed a bit of her Golden Ticket.

Fourth winner(s): Wilbur Rice and Tommy Troutbeck

(Based on Wilbur Rice and Tommy Troutbeck)

I wanted to reuse the characters from the deleted "Fudge Mountain" chapter of the book. A lot of this characterization is my own invention: I based myself on the few personnality clues found in the chapter, and for their appearance I used Quentin Blake's illustrations.

Tommy and Wilbur are best friends in the world. They are neighbors, they go to school together, they always share everything (even though they may fight for it first) - this is why when they discovered the fourth Golden Ticket they shared it. However their friendship is filled with a strange sort of disdain, and they really bond over their main hobby: pranking people. They like to do pranks and jokes and to have a good laugh. Unfortunately for everyone else, they are devilish little brats and cruel children, whose definition of a good laugh involves making believe someone's house was robbed, putting someone's dress on fire or pretending their little brother is dead. The worst is hurts or distress people, the better it will be for them. Causing black outs, using dangerous chemical products, hurting their own parents, it is all just a good fun.

The Rice family are the definition of bourgeois and nouveau riche, small shop owners who became extremely wealthy thanks to their trade. As a result they are boasting their money and spending a lot of it: their small house became bloated with numerous architectural additions that don't fit with each other, and they collect cars, having so much they can't even drive them all. Mr. Rice is a tall and very thin man always dressed in expensive but ugly suits and with a thick mustache looking like a caterpillar, while Wilbur is a small dark-haired boy with a round face and a round belly, chubby and flabby. Wilbur is an arrogant, haughty, snobbish boy that is friend with Tommy only because he thinks of him as a sort of "pet" - he is so arrogant that he also disdains his own parents, but Mr. Rice merely thinks Wilbur is being a "good lad", an "energetic boy" or a "little man" and is quite proud of this unruliness.

The Troutbeck family is the opposite of the Rice. They used to be nobility, living in a great manor, but they fell on hard times. Their nobility title not worth anything, money flying by, their family fell into poverty. They still live in their manor, but it is now run-down, dirty and unkept. Mrs. Troutbeck is an obese woman always wearing faded pajamas or worn-out jumpsuits and a thick layer of makeup, and Tommy is a tall and thin boy, skinny, with an angular face covered in moles, beauty marks and freckles. He has spiky strawberry blond hair and always wears tattered ans stained clothes. The Rice parents are hoarding misers, skinflints who refuse to spend and disdain the "show-off" Rice (the same way the Rice disdain the poor and "low" Troutbeck), in fact they only had a kid so he could later work and make money for them, and they encourage him to steal rather than buy things. Tommy is also a rude, violent boy, known to punch and insult all those that displease him - something he inherited from his parents, that also raised him with insults and slaps on the head (no wonder he doesn't have any respect for them).

The two kids have another element cementing their friendship: their love for candies. Wilbur spends his time buying candies to stuff his belly, and Tommy keeps stealing candies from other children, messily devouring them. And it is during one of their sugary feasts that they found the Golden Ticket.

For the tour, Wilbur is wearing a light blue jacket with a red bow tie, and Tommy a navy-blue turtleneck.

Fifth winner:Michael Themmen-Vry

(Based on Mike Teavee)

This name was a suggestion of ArtMakerProductions, who said I could invent a name whihc would have "T-V" initials. So I created Themmen-Vry, a name based on the names of the two actors who played Mike Teavee.

The Themmen-Vry family is exceedingly rich, grossly rich. But the Themmen-Vry parents are quite pleasant people: the father friendly and affable despite looking like a pigmy hippo, and the mother being an excellent hostess despite not being very bright and quite young. However their sson... it's a different story.

Michael is the oldest of the winners, being near the end of the his teenage years and almost a man. But he stayed stuck to the mental age of a child. Michael adores television, he has several elevision sets in every room of his manor to never miss his favorite shows. And Michael always liked to play, to disguise himself as his heroes. Couple that with very wealthy and very permissive parents, and you get this brat. Michael always plays at some game when he isn't watching television. He has an impressive array of costumes and toys to play with, and when he plays, he truly plays. He forces everyone to get into his roleplay and refer to him by his fictional identities. He forces other people into playing with him - he even kidnaps children from the nearby school to play with him. And he also wants realism to go so far... well let's say he won't be afraid to use a real gun to play a hunter. His parents are so permissive, seeing this as merely "harmless childish fun", that they allowed their manor to be burned down only because Michael wanted to play a firefighter.

No need to also mention you that Michael is a self-centered and disdainful brat that is always the hero of his stories and that uses "playing" as an excuse to bully and insult other people by having them be villains, monsters or preys. Basically he is the ultimate worst RPG player you can think of.

Tall and thin, Michael has long and thick hair covering his ears and forehead like a helmet, and a face covered in acne. As for his outfits, they change all the time: one time he is dressed as a mad hunter, another time he is a monster-killing alien-king, another time he is a ninja-cowboy from the Far West, and that's when he is not a policeman-Robin Hood.

His outfit for the tour is a vividly colored cosmonaut outfit, and he is armed with a ray gun. Actually a laser gun using real, harmful lasers. He is also one of the few kids allowed to come to th tour without his parents, due to him being old enough.

Sixth winner: Marvin Prune

(Based on Marvin Prune)

In the original drafts of Roald Dahl, Marvin Prune was a conceited school-obsessed boy that embodied the "all work and no play" mentality, disdaining all childish fun and freedom and rather dedicating himself to harsh studies and strict intellect. I decided to reuse this concept for a new interpretation:

Marvin Prune and his parents (his father, a man with a face like a boiled onio, and his mother, a woman who looks a lot like a donkey) are extremely arrogant and conceited so-called intellectuals. Marvin Prune thinks of himself as superior to everyone else and more intelligent than others because he read a lot of books, learned a lot of things and is an excellent school student. As a result, he thinks that he has all the rights to disdain others, insult them, treat them as complete idiots. But the thing is that Marvin actually has a very poor knowledge of the world and his "intellect" is up to discussion. He has numerous facts wrong - for exemple he thinks sugar comes naturally as a white powder and can't exist under any other forms, or he believes all the ancient Greek artworks were entirely white and that Greeks never used colors. If he gets so many of his facts wrong, it is because he believes simply learning about something is enough to be an expert - for exemple he claims to know all about foreign countries because he read about them in books, but he actually never visited them or met people from said countries.

This arrogance and this quest for "intellectuality" leads the Prunes to worship all that is "antique" "ancient" or "proper" - which results in them only collecting ancient furnitures, putting dust and cobwebs in their house to make it look more ancient, and Marvin wearing outdated outfits, like puff ties or jabots. He also likes to wear glasses, though he doesn't need them - he just thinks wearing glasses makes him look more intelligent. With narrow shoulders and chocolate-colored curls, the most defining trait of Marvin is his nose, which is really big, really long, really pointy and sharp, compared to a shark's fin. He always uses the royal plural "we" instead of "I" because he believes himself to be the most intelligent boy of the country or perhaps the world, and this bloated ego of him actually leads to a darker side of his personnality: he disdains all that is considered childish and worthless, up to the point of destruction. For exemple, he only reads encyclopedia, scientific books and teaching manuals. As for the rest - children book, novels, comic books... he deems them irrelevant and stupid and so wishes to burn all of them. Yep, we have a little book burner here.

Marvin only searched for a Golden Ticket because he wished to learn more about the Wonka Factory and know all of its secrets, as well as to be able to "correct" Wonka - because he is that kind of kid that considers everybody else is doing things wrong, and that he knows how to fix mistakes and improve everything. And he pretends that to find his Golden Ticket he used a lot of calculations, planning and studies, comparing the weather, selling patterns, geography, trafic levels... but in truth he actually got it by pure luck.

Seventh winner: Bertie Upside

(Based on Bertie Upside)

Bertie Upside actually surprises everyone because he isn't a brat like the other kids. He is a wealthy and rich orphan, but he is kind, healthy, gentle, generous, cute, humble, decent giving money to charity and being very respectful and wise. He sees the best in people, and during the tour he prevents the other kids from breaking the rules or bullying Charlie, deeming him a true "bore". He is basically the perfect kid, that is repeatedly said to have a "heart of gold".

For his physical appearance I based him on Quentin Blake's illustration of Charlie: tall and thin, blond with blue eyes. He always has clothes that match his hair and eyes: light blue jacket and yellow tie for his interview, and golden jacket with light blue shirt for the tour.

Eighth winner: Charlie Bucket

(Based on Charlie Bucket)

This Charlie I based on the original drafts of Roald Dahl, which depicted Charlie as black.

As usual Charlie is a small malnourished boy, all skins and bones, living with his poor family in a shabby and run-down house. His father is a newspaper deliveryman, which is how the Bucket family has a newspaper every morning, and his mother works at a toothpaste factory (like in the 2005 movie). Their job doesn't bring much money, but it is enough to survive. As for the Grandparents you have Grandpa Georges (got his leg cut off after the war, and is always criticizing, insulting and being revolted by the other Golden Ticket winners), Grandma Georgina (can't walk due to the family being too poor to have her hip and knee fixed, she quells and calms her husband's wrath and fury), Grandma Josephine (has a weak heart and can't do a lot of physical activities, but has a wild an insane past, resulting in her often telling stories not suited for kids) and Grandpa Joe (bad arthritis, usually tempers or censors his wife's stories).

Charlie tries to help his family: he makes a bit of money by collecting glass bottles and metallic scraps. As for the food the Bucket family survives with, I wanted to include elements of the "soul food": as a result the daily diet of the Buckets is black-eyed peas, turnips and sweet potatoes. When they have enough money they buy a pork feet or a chicken liver to add meat to their diet, but it is quite rare. Charlie is a little angel of a kid, ever complaining, working hard at school and always sharing what he has with his family.

#charlie and the chocolate factory #catcf #retelling #dark chocolate #augustus gloop #charlie bucket #violet beauregarde #veruca salt #mike teavee #wilbur rice #tommy troutbeck #marvin prune #bertie upside

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hunters-of-the-wastes · 4 years ago

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The Great Tauros is the descendant of the feral Longhorn Cattle. Once favored for the stock’s longevity, resistance to disease, and ability to thrive on marginal pastures, they are now completely wild and evolved into its own species of bovine, setting out it's own purpose in the ecosystem.

An impressive animal, The Great Tauros stand’s almost 180 cm tall and due to its long legs and slender build is a surprisingly agile animal. Bulls are enormous black beasts with sweeping lyre-shaped horns that can punch holes through steel or upend a small car should the animal become enraged. Its long, thick horns, speed and bulk weight provides powerful means of defense, and adults could give large predators such as wolves a serious match.

Cows are normally around two-thirds the size of the bulls and often have a reddish-brown coloration that makes them difficult to pick out in large groups. Both genders have a narrow “eel stripe” of light gray fur running along their back, while calves of either gender are brown until they hit sexual maturity, at which point the males take on the deep black coloration of adult bulls. Taking the championship prize for the now largest cattle breed alive, which was once given to the Chianina, in terms of appearance, these cattle of New America are massive- It is not unusual for bulls to exceed 1,600 kg (3,500lb) in weight, with some of the largest pushing 4,200lb. It doesn’t help they are also built like tanks, with the skeleton being extremely dense, with thick, sturdy bones.

Moving in small herds of up to half a dozen animals, these mega-sized bovines tend to keep to themselves, living as low browsers along the edges of woodlands and pushing their way through the thick undergrowth of the jungles to feed upon bushes, low-growing leaves, and anything else that they can find. They are also predominantly grazers of grass and low-lying plant growth. They seem to be fond of maple leaves and will knock down small trees to get at them. During the winter they will resort to feeding on twigs, leaf litter, and acorns. They also tend too frequent bogs in search of reeds and fresh understory growth, which may bring them into competition with moose and other large herbivores. However, Large herds tend to dominate any landscape they enter, often forcing away animals as they bulldoze through the available forage. Smaller herbivores like deer are often left unbothered by them and may even follow them as they leave a messy trail of undergrowth in their wake.

Herds are often gender-segregated for most of the year, the sexes only coming together during the late autumn breeding season. During this time the bulls become increasingly hostile and savagely fight for access to females, sometimes maiming or even killing each other in the process. Both genders start bulk-loading on fatty foods near the start of the mating season, each group building up fat reserves in order to survive the harsh winter ahead. Calves are born in the following spring and stay with their mothers for the next three or four years, before males set off to form their own herd's. Female calves may often leave too for a while, but sometimes are known to rejoin the herd after some time.

Despite their size and strength, these massive cattle aren’t always safe. While the animals are incredibly tough, able to shrug off the teeth and claws of most smaller carnivores, put a fight with slightly larger ones and even withstand small firearms like the African Cape buffalo, there are still predators capable of taking them down, while the young are the most vulnerable to predation. In addition, Bulls also tend to make the list to America’s Big Game Five, as males during breeding season are way, way, way, WAY too aggressive for anything to be around them for any length of time in 10 meters distance, which often makes them a thrilling spectacle and wild hunt for Big Game Hunter's.

FUN FACTS

While these cattle are popularly known to show up in their normal color's, the red for the female and the deep black for the bull's, this is not the only color they can present as. Texas Longhorns were said to have many great traits, and color was one of the most noticeable and enjoyable, and as a result their descendant's are not that far off. Much like their ancestor's, Great Tauros can come in a variety of color's.

This is because all cattle basically possess one of three basic colors: black, red or white. The two genes each animal has for color can result in six possible genetic combinations. The gene for black is dominant to the gene for red, therefore cattle with one gene for black and one gene for red (heterozygous) will be black. There is an incomplete dominance between the gene for black and the gene for white, resulting in cattle with one gene for black and one gene for white being a black-roan color. There is also an incomplete dominance between the gene for red and the gene for white, resulting in cattle with one gene for red and one gene for white being a red-roan color. The gene for white is recessive, resulting in only cattle with two white genes (homozygous) being a true white color.

Another pair of genes determines if the color is diluted or not diluted. The gene for dilution is dominant to the gene for non-dilution. Cattle that have one gene for dilution and one gene for non-dilution or two genes for dilution will have a diluted color. Cattle with two genes for non-dilution will not have a diluted color. The dilution gene causes black to be diluted to gray and red to be diluted to yellow. Diluted white will still be white.

As a result, Cows and bulls are certainly unique when it comes to their color as their shading and combination of colors means that no two are exactly alike! Colors, as a result, can often include different shades from light to dark and everything in between, making it common too see brown, black, red, white, yellow and orange. There are also some which are colored Lavender or Mulberry!

Three of the most appealing ‘mixed’ colors to hunter's often include:

Brindle: This is a striped color. Usually red or brown with black stripes. Various shades of red can also be produced, ranging from very light to very dark.

Dun/Yellow: Cows and bulls can range from grey/gold, through tan, onto all shades of yellow.

Grulla: This is the Spanish word for a grey crane. This bird is colored slate-grey and much like the bird, people observing Tauros will often see a range of colors that can range from a pale, smoky silver to a dark mouse color.

Fleabit: A far more appealing color than it sounds, This color is mostly white with underlying dark specks on the skin.

However, color is not destined from birth and can change with age. For example, a light red calf may become brindle after it sheds its baby hair (first coat.) Some red calves may also turn a dark brown or have dark prints after shedding. Other's can be almost completely white when born and become speckled as they shed and age.

#Fallout World Building #Fallout 4 #Fallout AU #Fallout #Fallout 4 World Building #What is sought is most often found if it is truly sought: World Information

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a-solitary-marshmallow · 4 years ago

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Please Don’t See Me - Chapter 5

This chapter is a bit longer than the others, but I didn't want to split it up! It was written in a hurry because I was excited to get it out to y'all, so let me know if I've made any typos or mistakes. As always I adore your comments so feel free to tell me what you think.

______________________________________________________________________

“You should come down to Gravity Falls!”

Ford didn’t quite think about the words before he blurted them. His close (and only) friend from college had mentioned in their weekly phone call that he and his family were thinking about taking a holiday from his would-be small computer business, and Ford had reacted without thought.

He laughed nervously, leaning back against the kitchen counter. Rebus padded through the kitchen with the click-click-click of claws that Ford had become accustomed to over the last month.

Ford cleared his throat. “If you want to, of course. I would love to show you some of the research on anomalies I’ve been doing, and I think Tate and Emma-May would like it here. I have plenty of space in my house.”

“Well sure Stanford, if you don’t mind.” Fiddleford said cheerfully. “I’ve been meanin’ to visit for a while now. Course, I don’t wanna get in the way o’ yer research if you’re busy.”

“Not at all.” From the other room Rebus let out a bark, and Fiddleford squeaked.

“What was that?”

“Oh, just my dog. There are probably some Manotaurs passing by.”

“Ya have a dog? When did that happen?”

“A month or so ago. His name is Rebus.”

Fiddleford huffed out a laugh. “Well, at least ya got yerself some company. That dog sounded mighty fearsome; ya sure he’s safe? I don’t wanna bring Tate around if e’s gonna bite.”

“Oh, Rebus is a sweetheart.” A savage growl issued from the other room. “He’s great with kids. When he accompanies me into town he will often play with the children in the playground.”

Rebus growled again, a growl Ford was reasonably certain was aimed at him for daring to imply that the wolf had a heart. Not that Ford had been lying – the kids in town loved Rebus and he delighted in running around with them while Ford ran errands. He was a veritable gentle giant.

“Tate would love him.” Ford continued, unconcerned with the wannabe threat display. The stubborn wolf reminded him of his brother sometimes, all bark and no bite.

…except when he did bite.

“If yer sure.” There was rustling on the other end of the line. “That sounds like a mighty fine idea, Stanford. I’ll have to check with Emma-May, of course, but I’d love ta see some of these anomalies you’ve told me about. Check that yer not crazy, at least!”

“I assure you, these things are one hundred percent real. You’ll be able to see for yourself.” Ford assured him.

“Does Friday afternoon work fer ya? We figured we’d go on the weekend so Tate doesn’t miss much school.”

“Yes, that’s fine. I’ll prepare the spare room.” Ford said excitedly. “It’s been quite some time since I had company.”

“Ah – Stanford?”

“Yes?”

“Exactly how long has it been since you talked to someone?”

“A few hours.”

“Other than yer dog I mean.”

“Oh, only a week or so.”

There was a pause. “Was that ‘someone’ me?”

“Er…”

“When was the last time you talked to a human being aside from myself?”

Ford laughed nervously. “Ah, it seems the connection is breaking up I’ll call back another time-”

“Stanford-”

“Say hello to Emma-May for me bye!”

He hung up.

Stan heard the car approach first, the approaching rumble of its engine dragging him from a light doze in that ever-illusive pool of light in the hallway. His ears picked up and he let out the beginnings of a warning growl at the intruders.

That was, until he remembered that they were supposed to have visitors. He yawned and stretched, slightly annoyed at having his nap interrupted but more curious to see who it was that Ford had been expecting. Being the local canine, people didn’t usually run names and stuff by him.

All Stan had been able to tell was that whoever was coming Ford was pretty excited to see them, judging by the way he had hustled and bustled to prepare the spare room. It had been pretty nice, these past few days, to just chill and watch Ford buzz around the place. In those years apart he’d missed Ford’s relentless energy; the way he bounced on his heels when excited, and the little flapping, and the excited gleam in his eyes, the way he could never quite hold still. It was pretty hilarious to watch the nerd get all wound up.

God, Stan hoped it wasn’t a family member. If Pa walked through that door…

Maybe it was that guy Ford was always calling, Fiddlesticks or something? Seemed likely. From what Stan could tell, his brother had a maximum of two friends. And one of them was a wolf.

He padded out to watch Ford open the door for… a small family? The man shook Ford’s hand while the woman chatted and held a small child on her hip.

“It’s great to see you again, Stanford. Thank you for letting us stay in your home.”

“Oh, it’s no problem, I have plenty of space.” Ford assured her.

“And Fiddleford said you had a – oh sweet Mother Mary-”

Stan was used to the usual ‘Oh my god is that a wolf?’ song and dance. He stepped forward and wagged his tail helpfully. Scaring kids and dames was only funny when you were trying to scare them. When you weren’t, it got old pretty quick.

The strange man leaned down and hesitantly offered one hand, and Stan allowed himself to be petted. Show of goodwill, and all that. The guy was short and twiggy and he smelled of engine grease and metal and root beer and straw. Stan decided that he liked the guy. The lady, too. Her suspicious gaze had mellowed out and now Stan could see the smile lines around her eyes. The kid, however, seemed… sticky.

Aaaand the kid had fussed to be placed down and was now trying to touch Stan’s tail. He whisked it out of reach but the sticky brat was laughing and already chasing after it.

Oh, hell no. Kid wanted to get its grubby mitts all over his coat? Think again. Stan darted out of its way and weaved past the adults to try and throw it off. Ford didn’t even try to help, the smug bastard.

Alright kid. You think you got stamina? Let’s see about that.

The kid.

Would not.

Stop.

Tate, as it turned out his name was, seemed to have boundless energy. The two kept up their game of cat-and-mouse all afternoon until Stan flopped on the porch, panting for breath. Tate squealed and rushed forward to bury his hands in Stan’s thick fur.

You win this round, pipsqueak.

A part of him wanted to place the kid on a high shelf where he couldn’t get in the way, and leave him there. Another part of him… wanted to lick his face and wag his tail. C’mon, mighty hunter and all that! Stan was supposed to have more dignity than like… a Labrador or whatever.

His traitor tail wagged anyway.

Ford and the dame, Emma-May or something, stepped outside to join them, Ford glancing over his shoulder and biting his lip as he went. Stan wondered idly where his nerd friend was.

“Oh, don’t worry, Fiddles hardly ever electrocutes himself!” Emma-May said cheerfully. “He’ll be done with his tinkering in no time.”

“…I was worried for my toaster.”

Emma-May flapped her hand. “Oh, it’ll be fine. I think he said something about making it like ours.”

“How has Fiddleford improved your toaster?”

“I dunno, but it has a lot of blinky lights and sometimes it smells like burning sugar!”

“…I feel like you’re trying to be reassuring?”

Stan should probably be on the lookout for smoke. He scented the air and got a whiff of something like burning plastic from inside…

…and curdled wrongness.

He wrinkled his nose. The air smelled weird and it was vaguely familiar, like he’d smelled it before, but never this strongly. There was something oily and metallic and… squirrelly?

Stan shook Tate’s clingy hands from his coat and stood to scan the house yard. Nothing looked out of the ordinary. But it just didn’t smell right.

The faintest scrape of claws on wood made him snap around. There – clinging to a house support and evidently trying to climb up to the roof was what might have once been a squirrel. Emphasis on once. Its front limbs were bulkier than the back ones with claws like tiny steak knives buried into the wood grain. Its fur hung off in patches and it was big – more raccoon-sized than squirrel-sized. The extra weight seemed to be giving it grief because it was struggling to make headway.

Fat bastard, Stan thought petulantly.

“Err – Stanford?” Emma-May piped up. “What on god’s good earth is that?”

Stan glanced across to follow her pointing finger. Apparently he wasn’t the only one to notice the thing.

Ford squinted and stepped closer to the rodent, which started hissing around overgrown teeth like a stepped-on snake with a lisp. “It… it appears to be another mutated creature. I’ve been finding them around the place since I got here. My hypothesis is that they’ve been somehow affected by the size-changing crystals in the forest.”

“The what-nows?”

Ford’s eyes brightened. “Oh, in the forest there are natural crystal formations that, when light is shined through them, have the ability to change an object or organism’s shape. The majority of the mutant sightings have been around that area. I’ve been meaning to investigate but a freak blizzard recently ruined my plans. Now, if I can just capture this specimen here…”

“Throw a blanket over it?” Emma-May suggested.

“Perhaps. I have a number of size-appropriate cages in my shed, would you mind keeping watch over the creature while I retrieve one?”

“Sure thing.”

Ford went to walk past but the movement seemed to startle the squirrel, which launched itself wildly into the air and latched onto Ford’s sleeve, scurrying up his arm. He yelped and flailed. Fortunately Emma-May smacked it and sent it flying. Unfortunately it skidded across the ground and took off towards where Tate was playing in the grass.

Fortunately, that was also where Stan was.

He lunged forward and snapped up the rodent in one bite before it could get close to the kid. Its tiny body gave out with a single, pathetic crunch. Weird-tasting blood exploded in his mouth.

Ford coughed. “Well.”

Stan spat out the creature, wrinkling his nose. The thing tasted – wrong. Like its blood was tainted with seawater and oil slick with an added hint of burning rubber. He spluttered and swiped at his tongue to try and get rid of the rancid flavour.

Ugh, were squirrels so corrupted by the weight of their sins that it seeped into their blood?

“Is it dead?” Ford asked curiously. Emma-May walked over to scoop up her child and prod the body with her shoe.

“Depends. Can these mutant things live with a snapped spine?”

“Dead, then. Still! It’s a specimen to study. I’ll get – oh, I suppose I won’t be needing that cage anymore.”

Nothing blew up that weekend. Stan took that as a win.

The McGuckets were… a different sort of folk than he was used to. They smiled so easily. Those two dopes of parents looked at their kid like he was the moon and the sun and everything in between, like they wouldn’t kick him out onto the streets no matter what dumb mistakes he made. Damn. Imagine that.

The Sunday night before they were set to leave Emma-May retired to bed early and Fiddleford and Ford settled onto the couch to talk, with cans of beer in hand and Tate playing happily with his Legos. Stan dropped onto the carpet to keep a watchful eye on the little brat. The fire crackled softly and cast a warm light across the room, its heat pressing against his fur.

A month or so ago he would never have let himself relax like this. He would be watching the window, ears pricked for any sign of…

Huh. He couldn’t remember the name of the man chasing him. When he thought hard there was a flash of scarred hands and packets of white powder and the taste of blood in his mouth. That’s right, the guy Stan had used to run drugs for a few years back, the guy who was now after him. Why couldn’t Stan remember his name?

Ford and Fiddleford’s murmuring rose slightly above the crackle of the fire and the clinking of Legos.

“-ya mean Shermie?”

“No, my… other brother. My twin, Stanley.” Ford said quietly.

It took Stan a moment to remember that that was his name. He rested his chin on his paws and tuned into the conversation.

“Ford, ya never told me ya had a twin.”

“No, I probably didn’t. You see, Stanley and I parted on… unpleasant terms. I haven’t seen him in almost a decade.”

“A decade?” Fiddleford squawked. “Why in the blazes not?”

“It’s complicated. Fiddleford, do you remember when I told you how I was rejected from West Coast Tech?”

“When you were drunk outta yer mind and I had to drag ya back to our dorm? Yes, I do recall.” Fiddleford said dryly.

“Yes, well. It was Stanley who sabotaged my project. He insisted it was an accident, but…” Ford sighed.

“Why do you bring him up?” Fiddleford tipped his head. Ford sighed and pulled off his glasses to polish them on his sleeve.

“I was hoping to get your advice, actually. Recently he’s been coming to mind more and more. I thought that, perhaps, he might have grown up over the last decade, and it might be worth getting in contact and seeing how he’s doing. Do… do you think people can change that much?”

Change. Had Stan changed much? Except for the whole werewolf thing…

It was like trying to think through sludge. Stan hardly remembered what it was like to be human. Or… human-shaped. Jeez, how long had he been Shifted for? Time was slipping away from him in this little bubble of happiness. Stan had never been in wolf form for this long before.

A chill shivered through him. The nerds’ talking continued but it was background noise to the humming of his thoughts. He stood and padded into the hallway, ignoring Tate’s whine. Stan shouldered through the (thankfully unlocked) front door and trotted outside.

He glanced around warily before slipping into the trees. Once a quick scan showed that he was alone, he Shifted.

Or… tried to.

The change that had once been liquid and effortless now felt like trying to shove a square peg through a circular hole. His skin prickled. Stan shook himself and tried again with a small growl.

The Shift swept across him with the popping of joints and the crackle of cartilage; creaky, like a neglected machine that had acquired rust from years of disuse. Stan gritted his newly-flat teeth and waited for the agonizingly slow Shift to pass.

He ended up crouched on the damp earth, breathing hard and squinting through suddenly blurry vision at the dark, hazy world around him. His skin felt itchy and it pinched in all the wrong places, like a suit that didn’t quite fit.

Well, shit. Note to self: don’t stay in wolf form for weeks at a time.

Stan flexed his hands, trying to reacquaint himself with having fingers and opposable thumbs. Being human. Or human-shaped, at least.

Because he was still a person. No matter what he looked like he wasn’t just some – some pet. He had a life to get back to.

Except… he didn’t. Not really.

Stan chewed over that piece of information for moment. Before he could really think about it a voice called his name. With a final stretch he slipped back into an awkward Shift, easier than before, and trotted after his brother’s voice.

#werewolf stan au #werewolf!stan #my writing #gravity falls #chapter 5

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feastfic · 4 years ago

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Some hypotheticals behind "baby" Legendary Pokemon, including my process behind how I came to points I did and things I'd imagine them to do when they're young. Starting with Kalos!:

Xerneas: It and Yveltal naturally were the easiest to come up with; one would've been a fawn, the other a chick. For Xerneas I really tried getting into the frailness that a fawn has, and the caution around people. It'd still be large, even for a fawn (around the same size as your typical adult deer in the real world) but it's height wouldn't be too much a hindrance in the wild. Xerneas fawns aren't left alone- typically they follow the parent around until they're able to walk steadily, graze easily, and be able to fend for themselves. As babies, they're sensitive to human disturbance; they live in the deepest reaches of forestry- although it isn't unheard of for stray fawns to wander off and end up near a settlement, it's extremely rare to spot even then because of their nature to hide at perceived threats. The spots on their coat can both reflect light and change colors, aiding in their ability to hide from danger.

Yveltal: Based loosely off the hoatzin's chicks, a young Yveltal grows out of the claws on its wings after molting into its first adult plumage. As a chick, its down is well-suited for insulation and blending into rocky outcroppings; Yveltal are known to nest either at high altitudes or dormant volcanoes, both of which tend to be fairly undisturbed places. While young and still fledging, chicks tend to pick up a hot streak of hunting on anything they can get their talons on- while not particularly aggressive per sé, they're absolutely rambunctious and can leave injury through even thick clothing. Speaking of talons, when young, their claws are black- the keratin eventually becomes weathered and worn as they grow, becoming more grey over time.

Zygarde: A solitary Zygarde is the most common depiction of one, and for good reason. Once enough Cells and Cores coalesce, a Zygarde is "born" and is left to fend for itself. While young and still growing, it lives mainly underground, burrowing through soil and making a sizable gallery for itself to dwell upon. As it grows, over time the amount of green on it's body is replaces by more black, and also darkens once it leaves its burrow to live aboveground. The feelers on its sides serve similarly to whiskers- they detect vibrations while burrowing, and are sensitive to changes in wind or air pressure when not underground.

Diancie: "Born" most commonly around colonies of Carbink, Diancie young are soft-bodied and vulnerable. They use the Carbink to their advantage, gaining protection from threats by living among them and being raised by them until its body hardens up. Its crystals are still developing as well, and it isn't uncommon for newborn Diancie to actually have other gems on its body; it sheds them with age to be replaced by the signature pink diamonds. The same is true of the hard white sheet of rock around its shoulders- it begins soft, almost like a sheet of sorts, before growing along with the Diancie and hardening as another layer of protection.

Hoopa: When young, Hoopa has no real way of being confined. Hotheaded and boisterous, it's been known to pick fights with Pokemon much larger than itself, despite whatever power imbalance there may be. The fur on its body ces in different lengths and layers, depending on the living conditions around it. No matter the environment however, a young Hoopa will have a tail packed with fat and other nutrients to support its growth into am adult- similar to how both geckos and gila monsters will store reserves inside its tail as well. The hole in its chest is nearly completely covered by fur when young, and it is still gaining control over its legs and arms- this gives it a disadvantage in fights, due to its unwieldiness and all the learning it still has to do.

Volcanion: Based loosely off turtle hatchlings, and very similar to Zygarde, Volcanion young grow up alone. Born from small clutches, the young remain until the last egg hatches, then they all take their separate ways. Newborn Volcanion have a hefty control over the steam and water they can eject, as it is their primary defense system at this age. Dangerous, it cannot use these resources indefinitely, so it sparingly goes into the attack when defending itself. Babies are primarily non-predatory and even complacent with people, if exposed to them enough and given enough time to healthily grow. When feeling threatened, Volcanion young will make a series of dry barks and defensive postures- this includes aiming its ejective appendages at the threat and blowing a warning steam from its vents. If found and raised well as a newborn- a hard task that isn't impossible because of its voracious appetite at such an age- it's quite easy for one to become tame and a regular visitor to specific places in a town, or to a person's backyard.

#Pokemon #volcanion #Yveltal #Xerneas #Zygarde #Hoopa #Diancie

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theangrypokemaniac · 4 years ago

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Baby Vulpix are born with a solitary white tail, which reddens and splits as it grows.

Given the conversion to Ice we must forgive the lack of colour, but the ends sticking together is inexplicable.

Perhaps it's tangled with perspiration, as a furry fox embellished with fluffy pouffes is not best equipped to deal with a simmering climate.

When Fire, and thus possessed of an inner furnace, such outer decoration is easily borne, but losing his type means it's nothing but a burden for these endless summer days.

If he became Ice to cope, why not shed such bothersome apparel? What benefit is there in retaining a fur coat?

Perhaps the transformation is yet to reach fruition, and we are witnessing merely a stage midway, before it drops off.

The correct crown plumage is three tight little curls above a small fringe, but here we find a most dishevelled appearance.

It smacks of a want of propriety.

Why any creature should don a toupee of albino pubes shall remain a mystery. Clearly they are no longer of sound mind.

I blame the diabolical influence of those wicked polyps sprouting from his ears.

Polyps grow in the cavities of a cat's head like the toadstools of Satan.

If they aren't removed they bore into its brain!

Are you blind? What's that there then?

I thought Ninetales had nine tails.

A matted bush with seven straggling ends wafting in the breeze.

The lack of separation is less of a concern when one realises the billowing quality equates to having no solid form.

He's lost his bloody tail bones, man! That bastard sun butchered him!

Like Parasect, the parasitic colonisation is complete, with polyps responsible for Ninetales's degradation from vindictive lunatic to feeble-fannied pacifist.

Remember Normal Ninetales? The regal reincarnation of nine noble saints who, were he offended, delivered eternal curses upon the perpetrator?

And it wasn't just a temporary punishment? It wasn't even for your lifetime?

It doomed generation after generation of your descendants, lasting ONE THOUSAND YEARS!!!

How does Alola Ninetales compete?

He'll douse you cold water.

No! The last thing I need is a cool down!

Well, if he's annoyed, if he's really, really, thoroughly ticked off, you'll be frozen.

And instantly thaw.

He's got that skin. Or fur even.

Meowth don't brown in sunlight. He greys. What was brown bleached to white.

Last year, when Sadism and Masochism still ran, I was up to me teef in posts praising Velma's mutant pussy, because Team Rocket can do no wrong, apparently.

A creature of alien grey, with a smug, squashed mush and Betty Spaghetti limbs, carved from the rubberiest lump of Kraken ever washed up on the shores of Siberia, was treated like a treasure, a faultless jewel we are honoured to behold.

However, as the S & M sesssion finished, I discovered that approval of Alolan Meowth is an extreme minority view.

Well yer could've fooled me!

What did we learn?

A. T.A.P. is in the majority at last!

B. Tumblr gives a really skewed idea of the wider fandom.

This hot stuff's a bitch eh?

Soon as touching the innocuous cat, it dived in his back and reorganised his spinal column, bipedal abilities serving as such a fine defence against sunburn, which is why fat-headed Persian loses it again.

I hope Game Freak did remember that our Meowth is the exception, and the breed aren't meant to walk upright.

It's very sloppy record-keeping otherwise.

Forget silly notions of black felines browned by prolonged sunbathing, what really goes down is cream darkening to grey, whilst any ruby gemstones they may possess becomes royal blue, obviously.

Persian was drawn in an identical stance to the real one to assist identification. I can't say I'd know without that visual clue.

Grey and blue? Has Persian, playing by his own rules, developed hypothermia?

He's a maverick, man! Petty laws of nature are meaningless to this cool cat!

As for his unfortunate face, it has swelled to painful proportions in the sizzling environment, like a woman's lower extremities.

It shows why a certain representative of the race lashed out by beating up Litten, besides intentions to eat or mount Popplio.

His features group together under the gravitation pull of the Ultra Wormhole secreted inside his skull, caused no doubt by baleful polyps.

Yer gotta watch 'em!

Ah, and where is the ambulance service striving to cure every Persian of this double malady?

There isn't one, 'cause they don't care.

Yeah, well he'll have the last laugh. That loaf is still a-growing, and one day will explode, unleashing said cosmic damnation upon the heartless savages, atomising all before it.

Sandshrew mate, yer getting hefty.

And then they'll be sorry!

I'll have you know I'm retaining water to survive.

Retaining pies more like.

Sandshrew can't abide damp, choosing to reside in dry areas well away from any substantial precipitation.

How exactly it crossed the sea to small series of islands surrounded by more sea is a mystery, but happen it did.

A creature of such taste should head inland, far from the shore, to a dusty landscape, the sort found on Akala Island.

What did it do?

He clambered the peaks, where much moisture awaits, snow being water, and stayed until ice colonised his person.

And got ears like an igloo.

Makes total sense for a Pokémon with an aversion to anything cold and wet to rush straight for the source.

Plus, that girth suggests piling on the fat to cope with a habitat it selected.

Oh no, that's a coat of steel. Definitely not ice. It's just bluish white and shimmering, like ice.

On an Ice Pokémon. But no ice here.

Shivering in a blizzard compelled it to develop a thick metal hide? That'll be useful when Alola goes to war and needs ammunition for the cannons.

A freezing, inflexible suit of armour not only works wonders against frostbite, but Sandshrew will sweat to death should it descend to the places it used to live.

The eyes are partly on its old face, but now overlap onto the ridge, meaning his eyeballs are bent in half.

One does expect sand and sand-related features from a Sandslash, such as Ground powers.

But a pangolin's gotta avoid the Chinese somehow, and so up he went, climbing them thar hills, whereupon his spikes, previously a natural fibre, transformed into steel stalagmites, and over that came an icy epidermis.

Trap up there forever, and blind!

Roasting conditions suffice to make mischief by melting rocks, so what befalls types weak to heat?

If Sandslash goes to sea level, his back will vaporise in the first blast of said dread inferno, leaving him vulnerable, just as the wet markets like 'em.

Worse, his upper limbs are not affixed to his body. Via the flimsiest joint, they're glued to the ice thanks to its adhesive effects.

It's as one often sees when scamps, walking to school, lick a lamppost upon a winter morn.

And soon regret.

Whence comes the thaw, his arms is gonna fall off, and then what defence can be mustered against the People's Republic?

AND, given his head is also majority cone, as it breaks, his skull will crack open and his brains tip out!

No wonder they're goin' extinct!

#Pokémon #Vulpix #Ninetales #Meowth #Persian #Sandshrew #Sandslash #Alola

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