#furry goes punk

[90strashpanda]

Punk opossum! Punk opossum! Causing chaos til the sun comes up.

Ginger © GingerKS_ on Twitter

[lauraluvbi]

xD

[voidcat]

– [16:52]

characters: togame jo, you

notes: use of nicknames (was gonna be pet names too, but oh well for another fic mayhaps) girl help i was possessed idk where this came from. Anywyas enjoy ;w;

Slight vibrations accompanied by a little mew, you scratch the cheeks of the cat by your side, keeping your other arm extremely still.

The cat seems content but a little too energetic to sleep just yet. “Come on now, just rest.” You try to convince the furry fellow, giving ear scratches with your rhythm decreasing to lull it to sleep.

Not the wisest place to lie with a cat on your chest; streets are one thing but Shishitoren territory is on another level by itself.

Lucky for you, this is one of the streets their members rarely walk upon— that, or they’ve just decided to leave you alone for now, embarrassment still fueling hot in the blood of novices and some wayward punks.

“I just want you to use me as a pillow.” You almost wail at the cat with a pout, the cat not caring in the slightest as to what you want, purring and playing with your fingers.

“Is the offer on the table for others?”

A voice from afar breaks the peaceful space you and the cat had crafted, footsteps beginning to make themselves heard, drawing near with each step.

“Because if the little guy won’t, I’d like to take up on it.” The owner of the voice concludes, stopping several steps away from you.

The cat jumps off of you in an instant, bothered by the sudden raise of noise, disappearing into a narrow alley as all you can do is to sit there and watch them go away.

The lack of warmth quickly takes over your body, and you still remain in the same position, same spot. You don’t need to raise your head to be met with Togame Jo’s smug face, his grin already loud in the words he spoke.

“No can do.” You let the sweetness of your tone to drop, mourning the loss of the cat and your limited amount of solitude in the process.

“Come now.” He singsongs with open arms, still keeping his distance. “Gonna turn away a stray just like that?”

He sounds amused if anything, all the more annoying— “last I checked, you weren’t a cat Togame.” You say his name slower, emphasising on it.

The arms drop and he rests one to his hip, leaning his body weight on one foot as well. The use of his name works as you hoped, even just the slightest tinge of annoyance blooming works just fine.

“Back to the pleasantries, I see.” With the last of his word, he resumes his walk toward you.

“And what could I have…” *clink clank* his sandals echo in the air, “possibly done…” *clank* the sandals come to a stop, a curtain of shade cast over you, you can tell he is standing right next to where you lay, “to have upset my doctor dearest now?”

He speaks the words like honey as he crouches down, arms resting on the surface next to you, brushing against your skin, he tilts his head to the side and with each exhale, you can feel his breath tickling your skin.

The nickname does not help once bit. He always makes it a point to remind you of your embarrassment when you’re least expecting.

So what if you were a little naive back then! Unaware just how often and intense the lot of them would fight… if it’s a crime to be concerned at the sight of a human you saw as acquaintances covered in blood and bruises, getting worried and rushing to his side for first aid— sure you’re guilty as charged, take them in officer! put on the handcuffs and lock them away while you’re at it!

“Let me think…” you hum, bringing a finger to your lips to fake thinking. Your arm aches for being still for so long but you try to hide it away.

“Disturbing the peace of citizens, getting in the way of a potential sick animal’s rescue, asking people to use them as body pillows, initiating physical contact with people unprompted… I think the list goes on, don’t you think?” You turn your head to face him as you finish.

He stands close, too close, if you were to lean forward just an inch, your noses would brush already. And worse of all, he looks more smug than anything, just staring into your eyes, uncaring of the empty look you are careying

“An interesting list of accusations.” Togame speaks up after holding your gaze long enough for both of you to grow bored. “But mostly baseless, should I add.”

You raise an eyebrow in return, bringing both your hands by your chest to clasp them.

“The cat part can be handled any time,” he says as his eyes go up, as if thinking on ways to capture the cat later on, “but someone respectable such as you, doctor dearest, shouldn’t go around, spreading rumors now.” He says as his eyes find yours again.

“And last I checked, the physical contact wasn’t unprompted.” The grin returns to his face, with each word, he goes down a volume.

The grin grows bigger and bigger, the same unnerving one on the opposite sides fear, and the same one he loves to use when he feels like he has the upper hand on you. “You enjoyed it, in fact.”

And with the drop of the ball, he waits for your response, only receiving an eye roll in return, then one hand raising from where it lay to flick him off on the forehead.

The same empty mask is nowhere on your face— too many emotions in fact, all boiling, fighting to retort, say something back, bark or shut him off. But it’s an endless battle like that, only ending with one side speechless. And if anything to come by, you know when to admit defeat.

Like now, as unfortunate as it is.

Togame is the first to break the scenery after some time passes, the sky beginning change its colors. Getting up and stretching his arms, he opens his eyes to steal a glance at the sky.

“Heard it may rain today. Dont want a repeat of last time now, do we?” He says as an invitation. Reaching out his arm to you, bent by the elbow, he watches as you repeat after him, get up, stretch your arms and get off the platform you were sitting.

With a sigh, you link your arm to his and immediately pull him to your side with little force.

“Well then Mr. Stray, lead the way.”

[you-cant-fuck-megaman]

I liked the questioning about repli beauty you brought up. So, as we go into this rabbit hole, can we attribute the appearance and preferences for own image of a repli to previous programming and the way the X program developed itself?

Like, it started with humans building the first repli series and setting human society as a parameter of likeness for non-battle/labor replis, and from there, the replis just continued the trend when building the next ones?

Also, is the operating system on the next one based on a blank template or does it come from the repli that programmed/designed them, in a kinda genetical passing manner?

a fantastic question! there's a lot of big question marks about how things work in the X world that aren't really delved into. the question of operating systems is a surprisingly straightforward one, as we know that there are at least three eras of reploids: the original line made from X's template, the improved line made by Dr. Doppler from the X3+ era, and the "New Generation" Reploids in X8+ made by an unspecified designer/developer for spaaaaaace work.

but image preferences? hooooooooooooooooooo. i can't offer a solid answer. but here's some ramblings about my thoughts.

what we DO know is that Reploids were derived from X's template and that they started off as copies of his design/aesthetic, and if we're to take the Archie series as any level of canon (probably level 2 extra-canon) we have a very clear visual as to what the early reploids looked like. and that, despite this, the X series features mostly furry robots as characters.

now, on an out-of-universe level, i want to say that i remember this decision was made because it creates more imposing silhouettes--megaman is a franchise designed for baby children first and foremost, and it's easy for child brain to correlate humanoid shapes as friends and feral beasts as enemies. however, A: i cannot find a source for this, and B: Sonic the Hedgehog

in either case, whatever the reason is, in-universe we have a very clear disparity between the originator of reploids being humanoid (the original term repliroid is even a portmanteau of "replica" [in the likeness of] and "android" [a humanoid machine]) and the majority of on-screen reploids not being humanoid. which tells me that body image is a BIG THING among reploid culture, and either chassis remodeling is a relatively easy process or a lot of reploids are willing to invest a lot into being a different person than who they started out as.

this is something briefly touched in the Classic series, with Tundra Man (a late line Robot Master) intentionally remodeling himself into a body type that he prefers, but it's fleshed out further with the (chronologically farther) X world in the design changes to the non-animal characters--Zero, Alia, and Sigma all similarly sport different bodies as the series goes on. the only person who doesn't change much in the main series is X, ironically enough, outside of Command Mission. Alia X8 and Layer are silly designs that were designed for fanservice first and foremost, but we can reasonably surmise that (in-universe) they chose to look that way. i'm not about to tell a woman she can't wear a car hood as a bra if she wants to, but i will think that it'd look better if it was put back on the jeep because i need that to fucking drive.

meanwhile, there's a lot of obvious correlations to be made with early X Mavericks and their designs being optimized for the environment. icy area gets the penguin. aerial area gets the eagle. underwater area gets the octopus. but as the series goes on, the correlations become significantly less appropriate and it's clear that animals were chosen for their design aesthetic. the munitions factory gets.....the hornet.....? i guess, like...the hornet stinger missiles.......?

it makes more sense if you take iwamoto's X mangas as level 2 extra-canon like the archie comics, because Blast Hornet was a reploid biker-gangster punk who became a hornet for the shock factor. which ends up leaning back to the original theory that reploids ultimately end up choosing how they look--if not from the onset, then further down the line.

you could probably make a solid argument that the X series is a very trans-friendly future, and that nearly every major character is trans and nobody bats an eye about it. instead the robot police are mad about the crimes and murder. but the creed is "be gay do crimes" so this is actually oppression 🙄

[stitchwraith-stingers]

(some-what of) an analysis on patty possom(?)

inspired by this post on the PE-AZ yes this episode is my fave yes i unironically love patty yes i was a fnaf kid yes i am utterly deranged

some of these r incoherent because its midnight and i wanna post this as fast as possible before i go to bed and wake up at the crack at dawn

yayyy patty ^_^

one of the first things ive noticed post becoming alive like the next frankeinstine is that her eye wasnt fixed by the mechanics, which as ill discuss later imply a sort of negligence (? i think) to the properly, i however dgaf and like to interperate this as her having a lazy eye <3

she seems to be a genuially nice person!!!! um . i dont know how to continue this paragrapth pretend theres something here thats interesting

imagine being born into the world and already having a dreadful fear of being abandoned. crazy, mustve impacted her very hard

though this probably means it gave her fake memories or she was already sorta vaugely away of whats happening?? like psudo sentient?? if that makes sense, how the hell do you know this girl, you havent BEEN to the devils sacrament

the way she goes about it and the ending shows that she has no clue on how to socialize or their cues at all, or just cuz of the pov its intentionally shown as more creepy (which it probably is, you could hear her go "where r u going :(" in a sad tone), shes a massive werido and i love her for that

point is, shes nice but has no idea how to say "nooo dont leave me haha" normally cuz she just appeared 2 seconds ago with no idea of proper communication, does that make sense..... help

heres the thing i love about this the most, shes at the end of the ep shes seen dragging background character #47 in the same tone of voice and hes seen uncomfortable. PAN TO THE NEXT SLIDE IN WHICH THEY SEEM OK IN THEIR PRESENCE

LIKE . THE GUY JUST ACCEPTS HER HAND TO HOLD WHEN SHES SHOCKED..... THEY R BESTIES AND IM TIRED OF PPL OVERLOOKING IT, and the fact that i dont think we get to see him again (cuz they couldnt fit him anywhere in the background? i think) makes it better for me, balding old guy notices furry twice his size scared of being left alone so he decides to stay here just for her.... MANNN

the general area

lets see, were right off the bat were introduced to a good few places, the fun tunnels, the game zone, a claw machine thats rigged, the place with the signature snack which i wont go over because thats kinda of its own gag but its sticky and probably unhealthy, and the main stage

i assume the fun tunnels are made with a holograpthic effect inuniverse, and i think theres some LED lights in there to make it glow, i was going to say its polyethylene plastic but i dont think that exists google stock photos lied to me, also not related but it looks like a horrible spray paint job was done on this thing lol

also acording to the lyrics theres supposed to be 3 more members, a raccoon, cat and turtle . i dont think we see craggle in photo though rip (if theyre not a sphyinx ill be dissapointed), tyrone seems to have a 60's? aesthetic going on, rascal has a punk aesthetic going on and patty has a more modern aesthetic ? i think, the spiked collar is throwing me off

from winns dialouge in the start implying that they havent been here in a good while ("when i was little" ur in 5th grade) and the fact that their instruments are still there, then this was probably a recent desicion, or atleast long enough for a 10 y/o that hasnt been here in awhile to be upset by this and for patty to be immediatly spawned in with abandonment issues

along with a rigged claw machine and the snack i think it implies that the people over there who own this establishment are probably really cheap, and the fact that the PRAMBY snack is really sticky is definatly going to cause some health issues down the line, something something fazbear entertainment

oh and also, theres like a split second frame where this shows up, obviously its just there as a morbid joke but atleast it shows us this establishment is atleast old enough to have someones decaying body be bone by now, which after writing that makes me sound stupid because skeletonization might not take as long as i thought it would ("3 weeks to several years" depending on the surroundings)

whoever was there seemed to have been stuck for 25 days at least and has gone undetected, which means this place is linked to one unsolved missing persons case and they dont have a clue (most likely), also theres ballpit balls inside this thing i fucking guess?? theres no actual ballpit in the place idk what this kid was doing

i have tried to make up a map of how the place looks but im always bad with rooms ? and i had to take a fewwww small creative liberties with this cuz i couldnt figure out where theyd be but close enough👍👍

[punkeropercyjackson]

Making this post moreso for mutuals so they don't tag me in Batfam x Atsv posts that have Jason with Hobie as eachother's counterparts and then feel bad when i say i hate that concept but i really need to get it off my chest that i find it REALLY annoying and basic when superhero fans assume they'd be the duo.Yeah,obviously they'd be close friends,but sorry not sorry,if y'all bothered to read Jason's comics or pay any mind to Hobie as a whole instead of just the 'he's a punk dude' bits,you'd know that A)Hobie would think Jason's an absolute cringelord,not look up to him or immediately respect him and Jason'd have to proof himself to him and that B)Jason's Spiderfam bestie wouldn't be anyone other than Miles and same goes for Miles' Batfam bestie not being anyone other than Jason LMFAO.He's literally him when he was Robin so that'd be enough of a reason to instantly like him but on Miles' end Jason's basically Itsv!Peter B Parker with Aaron Davis' alignment so same logic but there's also how Jason's canonically a classical literature nerd and gamer,Miles' an artist and anime fan,they have the same taste in fast/junk food and flirting tactics and their lives both went to shit because the universe said so when they were 15.Also,Talia Al-Ghul and Rio Morales have the same vibe and you can quote me on that and i think if the comics had given Jason a 56 Gwen-adjacent love interest who was afrolatina then a lot of the problems in his writing would be fixed

Speaking of which-Have you guys not noticed how Miles is so good at making people better without even really trying and thus not at the cost of his own arcs or real personality and is instead just an aspect of him?Or how he's been shown as enjoying hanging out with older people,with even Gwen having a year on him?Or how Miles G literally has the Red Hood Era storyline(Sunshine softboy as a kid but turned into a goth asshole to cope with trauma and additional an anti-villain/vigilante/morally gray)?To throw some shade i know for a fact he makes a more fitting best friend and younger sibling for Jason than Roy Harper,Marinette Dupain-Cheng AND Danny Fenton do,the first for reasons i've said already,the last two because he'd never fuck with Bruce Wayne in his life and just knows him as that fakeout furry rich guy his older brother figure roasts sometimes and cons money out of to buy him gifts

And Jason would have someone he can geek out with and relate to for once and have legit reasons to want to turn good again because Miles made him see the good in the world again and at the same time Miles got taught to stop feeling for failing at things he tried his best at and that he can always just try again in different ways but always his own thing and Miles makes Jason feel like a kid again and Jason treats Miles like he's still a kid since HE IS and-Man,you see what i mean?They'd have the most interesting dynamic ever and frankly i think we all deserve to see it instead of 'He was a punk,he was also a punk,can i make it anymore obvious?'BLEHGH!!!!

Also,just cause i want to be able to tag this as Punkflower:

Hobie:Your guy's really hot

Jason:WHAT?!Bruh,Miles' like my brother!

Hobie:Your brother's really hot.And now i got a scooby doo on how there's no blood relation

[catball]

my post i just spent forever typing about this just got spontaneously deleted so im not trying as hard on this one. wizard hat staple of middle school skipper’s weekend wardrobe

aging up a little we have the red and white striped shirt which i wore the shit out of in middle school and the loud ass bowling alley carpet button up i wore the shit out of high school, accompanied by of course the ever present lemon demon tee. transition from the red button up to the loud blue one represents baby skipper’s transition from being a weezer panic at the disco gorillaz villagers type guy to an oingo boingo talking heads they might be giants ska punk type of guy as he started high school. i really wish i could find better pics because i feel like the blue button up lemon demon shirt combo is so iconic in terms of baby tober fits

first outfit is definitely less ivonic in terms of skipper fits to me but it still goes crazy. super representative of me as a person at that time i think… the kitten tights paired with the rainbow skirt the furry shirt and my confetti tie… next picture is definitely an iconic skipper fit to me, complete with my beloved shirt which i gifted to @swagginess and my tie which i feel like starts showing up around our wardrobe a lot more around this point

[n7punk]

Day 12 notes (and these are actually kind of long because this dumbass fic got away from me <3):

Catra knew something happened to Shadow Weaver because it didn’t make sense for her to have Adora totally take over the ritual otherwise because it gave Adora too much of a chance of figuring out Catra was her a few years ago, but she didn’t suspect what actually happened, she figured the curse killed her or something.

The barrier Catra used was a simpler, non-light-based version she did in the night to slow Adora down from launching spells at her if she was violent on sight.

Catra’s magic isn’t as weak as Adora speculated, it was just the taint of corruption left that made her struggle with the light magic. Most people have a school they’re stronger in than the others — for Adora, it’s healing — and there are some who struggle a lot with anything outside of that school. Catra is one of those, where her general magic is on the weaker side but she’s really strong in her specific school.

Catra was really unaware while she was in the barrier. It was a little like being asleep, and then waking into a groggy daze state when the barrier weakened or something changed (Adora appearing at the bottom of the stairs giving her something to latch onto), so it was more akin to being in a coma for years than solitary confinement, but still not great.

Trans Micah is one of those headcanons I sometimes forget isn’t canon and I have truly no idea why.

Micah did try to convince Catra that feeling like she was a monster didn’t actually make her one, and sometimes he made progress, but he needed to say it Stupider for it to click for Catra, and Adora finally got her there (though Micah’s groundwork was essential because Catra did already know at that point that how she felt about herself was a big factor in how she appeared).

I do think, in a world like this, you would see inhuman people on a fairly regular basis, like everybody knows about furries at this point, but that most of that stuff is done through temporary glamors because, as discussed, once that becomes a permanent change it changes everything about how you interact with the world. The one Catra uses is actually designed to cover up tattoos and extreme hair for punks to look “respectable” at their day jobs, so it goes both in the more and less extreme direction of image manipulation. Like I said, Catra was someone who would get some looks, but she wouldn’t stop traffic or anything. She’s not a cybertruck.

[dandy-dog]

📌🌈🐶☀️

★ SOLAR - 23 YEARS OLD - QUEER - POLYAM - CLOSED - AUTISTIC - GNC TRANS GUY - ALTERHUMAN - WHITE - BRITISH - HE / IT ★

Hey there! My name's Cody, but I generally tend to go by Solar, Ray or Sunny online. That said, you can call me pretty much whatever you want. I'm not too picky. I'm a hobbyist artist, occasional writer and professional dog who's had the misfortune of being on this miserable hellsite (do people still call Tumblr that?) since 2014. I was around before then, but I didn't make an account until that point. My blog isn't strictly NSFW, but I do reblog posts with dirty humour and references to sex. So if you're a minor or someone who doesn't want to see that kind of thing? I wouldn't recommend following me. Want to know more about me or about this blog? You can find more info under the cut! ✌️

The dividers in this post were made by @chocoperrito and you can find them here! ❤

》 WHAT'S THIS BLOG ABOUT, DOG MAN?

I'm glad you asked! This is my main blog so it's generally just a mish mash of all sorts. Anything and everything pertaining to my interests goes here, it's a total free-for-all. That said, you can mostly expect reblogs about queer topics, political and social issues, different media that I like, shitposts and furry art. Lots and lots of furry art. I may occasionally post my own art here and possibly my own writing in the future if I feel confident enough.

》 WHAT ARE YOU INTERESTED IN?

I am, in fact, a human person with nuance so you can argue that no matter how many things I tell you that I like? None of this will even come close to conveying the full spectrum of who I am, so please keep that in mind. I'm more than my interests. That said, it doesn't mean I can't at least give you an idea of the things I enjoy so to name a few things offhandedly: I really enjoy art, writing, reading, poetry, photography, filmmaking, animation, cartoons, video games, RPGs, 3D platformers, visual novels, folk punk music, ska music, 80 and 90s visual aesthetics, bright colours, primary colours, breakfast foods, thrifting, kitsch, antiques, tacky button-ups, animatronics, toy restoration, early 2000s internet, xenofiction, medieval fantasy, lost media, queer history, TV history, film history, furry history (namely the funny animal era and 2000s era), cooking, horror movies, folklore, cryptids, musicals, storytelling, worldbuilding, history, psychology, archaeology, zoology, etymology and space!

》 WHAT MEDIA DO YOU LIKE?

I like a lot of different media and the ones I actively choose to engage with fluctuates pretty frequently, but currently the ones of note are... Pokémon, Warriors, Watership Down, Animal Crossing, The Lion King, Ginga Nagareboshi Gin, Beastars, The Legend of Zelda, Bugsnax, Banjo Kazooie, Viva Pinata, Spyro, Crash Bandicoot, Sonic The Hedgehog, Zero Escape, Ace Attorney, Another Code, Welcome To Nightvale, Little Shop Of Horrors, Ride The Cyclone, Starkid, Be More Chill, Heathers, Cats, Waitress, In The Heights, Silent Hill, Resident Evil, A Nightmare On Elm Street, Child's Play, The Gregory Horror Show, The Owl House, Steven Universe, Portal, Half Life, TF2, HLVRAI, What We Do In The Shadows, Our Flag Means Death, Interview With The Vampire, Doctor Who, Red Dwarf, Scott Pilgrim, Sam And Max, The Good Place, Gravity Falls, My Little Pony, Night In The Woods, Slay The Princess, Dragon Age, Fable and Good Omens! Hyperfixations are bolded, because like it or not I am autistic and that does affect which of these wretched things will get a stranglehold on my attention at any given time 👍

》 YOU'RE QUEER? WHAT ARE YOUR LABELS?

I'm a gender non-conforming trans man. I go by he/him and it/its pronouns and I mostly use masculine terms (man, dude, guy, etc.) or non-gendered ambiguous terms (thing, mutt, dog, etc.) to refer to myself. That said, all this does vary whenever I feel like it and I've got no intentions of trying to mirror cis men. I see myself as a man in the same way Bugs Bunny is a man, masculine in theory but pretty malleable in practice. A man but tilted a bit too much to the left so it doesn't quite fit on the "pallatable for cis people" gender shelf.

My gender is pretty intertwined with my non-human identity; All genders feel like a costume but ambiguously fruity man is the most comfortable one for me personally. I'm a vaguely man-shaped dog thing that's just trying to resemble a person above all else, if we're being entirely honest here.

I use the labels pansexual and queer pretty interchangeably. Gender doesn't really play a part in who I'm attracted to, it's pretty irrelevant and just kind of a neat bonus more than anything. That said? Overall I'm predominantly attracted to other queer people! I do class myself as acchillean because of my attraction to other men but in a non-committal handwave kind of way, considering how weird my relationship with my own gender currently is.

I consider myself as polyamorous. I can comfortably exist in both monogamous and polyamorous relationships but between the two? Up to now I've found the latter is my preference.

Also, I know I don't owe anyone an explanation about my identity. I'm talking about this because I'd like to (queer expression is fun to talk about yippeeee) and not because I feel obligated to. People aren't owed your life story, especially people on the internet ✌️

》 DO YOU HAVE A BYF / DNI?

No, I don't have a DNI. I've come to realise that the culture surrounding DNI lists in online spaces isn't healthy and I'd far rather just curate my own spaces however I feel like it! Not that I wasn't doing that before now but given that? A DNI feels like an unnecessary step that just serves to perpetuate that culture which I don't want to do. The block button exists to be used, I block people wherever I need to for the sake of my own comfort and I recommend you do the same 🤷 That said: I'm a queer neurodivergent leftist. So I have the exact kind of opinions you'd probably expect with those descriptors in mind. All good faith identities are valid, any kind of queer exclusion is bad, bigotry towards any marginalised group is bad. Fascism and capitalism are both poison, cringe culture is dead, do what you want forever so long as it's not hurting anything or anyone and everyone deserves kindness unless they themselves don't show it. Truly some never before heard takes here on Tumblr dot com.

》 WHAT ABOUT A TAGLIST?

Not yet, but I'm slowly working on it. In the meantime? Here's what you mainly need to know. You can find my talking and general shitposts under solar talks, or my art under dog draws. I do have content warning tags! I try to be conscientious and tag anything that I know is a common trigger for people (blood, gore, bones, bright colours, insects, etc) as and where I can. I format all of my content warning tags as "cw //" and then whatever the content of the post is that needs tagged. So for example, if you don't want to see insects? You can blacklist them on my blog using cw // insects and that should stop you from seeing anything with a number of legs you aren't comfortable with. This same format applies to all of my content warning tags. If there's anything more specific you need tagged? Don't be afraid to let me know. I'm happy to accommodate you wherever you need so long as it doesn't infringe upon my right to exist; If it's something that triggers you? Then it warrants being taken seriously.

》 WHO'S THE GUY IN YOUR ICON?

That would be my fursona, Circuit! He is me, I am him, I love showing him off to people so although the art may change? He's usually the face of my online pressence. Here's his current (slightly outdated, whoops) reference sheet that I made for him:

If you're curious, the art of him I have as my Tumblr icon currently (as of February 4th 2024) was a commission I got and is drawn by Pawtastic!

》 WOW, YOU TALK A LOT.

Sure do bud. Thank you for noticing! Want to hear me talk more? Then I have some sideblogs you can check out if you feel like it. fuzzypath is my Warriors sideblog (active) funky-fella is my Bugsnax sideblog (semi-active) canid-canon is my writing sideblog (WIP, inactive) I also have a NSFW sideblog dedicated to outright hornyposting, but respectfully I'm not sharing that here. If for whatever reason you'd like to see that? PM me privately to ask for it and if you're both 18+ (have your age clearly stated somewhere on your blog) and someone I trust to see it then I'll most likely give it to you!

[katyspersonal]

your mutual friend group is terrifying and i love it

PFFFFTTTTtttTttTT I am glad to hear this, anon xD Honestly my random morbid cannibalism jokes is not even our final form, usually it goes more like:

nobody:

me, hyperexcited: GUYYYS GUYS I just realised something after playing BLORBOrne for 50th time, I am such a dumbass ahaha! Turns out that there is a very hard to see detail in the data of Boris (datamined by Russian hackers: ( x ))! The shade of his right eye is kinda white-ish which lines up with theme of losing eye color upon becoming a furry, so despite boasting about his grip he has been secretly reading furry pr0n comics more than he should have! (tagged: #blorborne #boris the cocksucker #blorborne observation #as usual I notice this kind of shit too late AAAAAAAAA #listen it is 5 AM don't @ me)

someone: Katy pls I don't even know who Boris IS 😭

me: What do you mean, he is an easy to miss summon in Horse-Plinked Village!!! By the way, there is a bunch of lore that can be concluded from his items that he never uses but they are in the game files, even though he doesn't have any dialogue!

someone: 😭😭😭

my friends FANDOMette, Wow and Chicken: *reblogging* (tagged: #this is sooooo interesting #really nice observation I never thought about that #I am NOT normal about this #blorborne #boris the cocksucker #nice to finally see more ideas about boris)

fareehaandtheitalians: Girl this is incredible I HAVE NO WORDS, I feel like I am gaining Insight points when I am reading your posts

Jara that reads like 'jara' and not like 'yara' lol: *reblogging* (tagged: #yeah nobody is really safe from corruption in this setting #just like in real life xd #no wonder that I like this game so much because it is just as hopeless as reality #xd #bloorborne)

Chicken: *reblogging from Jara that reads like 'jara'* *screenshot of the tags* GIRL ARE YOU OK 💀💀💀

me: *reblogging from Chicken* NO ONE WITH AT LEAST A BASIC AMOUNT OF BRAINCELLS CAN FEEL OK IT IS NO ONE'S FAULT THAT YOU THINK LIFE IS ANYTHING BUT FARM OF SUFFERING

me and Chicken: *start fighting in the reblogs with progressively ridiculous points about meaning of life and idiotic memes*

fareehaandtheitalians: *already started doodling a meme based on this, as if to immortalize it in a tapestry*

Boom: *reblogging the showdown at its final point when me and Chicken already obliterated one another into a bloody mess* (tagged: #ehehe #stay silly you two!)

other Elden Twink mutuals: *eat popcorn*

Comic: *reblogging* WHY CAN'T YOU TWO BE LEFT WITHOUT BEING WATCHED FOR EVEN ONE DAY?!

Jara that reads like 'jara': Lol I made everything become cursed again xd

Chicken: No, Jara (reads like 'jara'), it is not your fault! You see, none of this would have happened if SOMEONE finally admitted that they are simping for [insert a character that either has the worst haircut in the setting or is so generic-looking that it actually embarrasses me]

robertzombie: *reblogging* She WHAT? People in this fandom have the worst taste I swear

me: You see FRIEND, we will know who ACTUALLY has a bad "taste" when I try a meal out of certain "bird" if you see what I mean.....

Fandomette: KATY NO, DON'T EAT YOUR FRIENDS... You wanted to eat Mewmecolash or something stop 😭

me: WHY ABSOLUTELY EVERY SINGLE PERSON IS SO DEADSET ON OUTING MY SECRETS FOR RANDOM PEOPLE TO READ?????? (tagged: #lmao as if anyone is going to read us after shit like this)

Chicken: THIS IS REVENGE FOR YOU MOCKING MY SON SURPHERROTH MWAHAHAHAHA

me: I AM ENDING THIS POINTLESS FIGHT HERE BECAUSE UNLIKE YOU PUNKS I HAVE SOME REALLY IMPORTANT THINGS TO DO *spends the rest of the day napping or watching cursed Elden Twink challenges letsplays*

Wow: *messaging me in Discord* Dammit what was THAT hahaha

me: Thank you for NOT having my back as usual, well, at least you are good for finishing a dumb post with lol

[90strashpanda]

Laughing all the way to the pit.

[benjam1ndrowned]

Intro post

hello everyone!

name: ben, benjamin, link 𓄻 nicknames are fine

pronouns: he/him regularly, i dont mind it/they. neo pronouns are glitch/glitches.

age: 16+ , still a minor. (never specified)

labels: omniromantic, polyamorous, agender | + more i will not label for safety, etc.

fandoms: creepypasta, slenderverse, marble hornets, everymanhybrid, fnaf, helluva boss, mandela catalog, murder drones, tadc, furries/therians, extras i currently cant think of.

music: slipknot, knocked loose, yungblug, pop goes punk, insane clown posse, falling in reverse, get scared, mindless self indulgence, pierce the veil. definently a rock & metal person lol

DNI :

t.r.a.s.h supporters

furry/therian/alterhuman haters

problematic people & supporters

over all just bad people.

[miasmaclockworks]

This also goes for Smiling critters (poppy play time aus)

Pirate au, swap/opposite au, frenzy au, beach vally au, valentines au, broken computer virus (BCV) au, house care au, real virus au, mimic au, best friend au, candyland au, light's out au, time traveler au, steam punk au, ghost au, phasmophobia au, dragon barrier au, librarian au, magical forest au, fruit au, fruit au, furry au, sailor moon au, pride au, obsessed au, ice cream au, midnight starlight au, AHIT au, star collector au, broken heart au, rejected friend au, accepted friend au, Poppy Playtime au, Five Nights At Freddys au, Warrior cats au, Midnight driver, killer au, prince of the night au, pool swimmer, Magical boy au, Critical au, Escape room au, god au, AU god au, Au hunter AU, scream au, Mii au, plane crash au, pilot au, mc donalds worker au, driver au, smile tapes au, nightmare au, night gamer au, artist au, over eater au, roblox au, creator au, caseoh au, wii au, wand au, childhood friend au, possessed au, apple core au, string worm au, drunkie au, caretaker au, love maniac au, drier au, washing machine au, Im a pretty princess au, venting au, among us au, gentle man au, Youtuber au, Actual axolotl au, you are what you eat au, mince meat butcher au, butcher au, doxxed au, sally the witch au, autistic au, ADHD au, Autistic and ADHD au, Motherborn au, alien au, Mother Mother au, soul au, dragon born au, vampire au, vampire hunter au, it was all just a dream? au, sunshine au, digital circus au, clockwork au, gymnastics au, rainbow factory au, twisted and turned au, patchworks au, unseen au, joker au, minimum wage worker au, skinwalker au, kinito darling au, forever and ever, everlasting pain, story teller au, time teller au, zoo keeper au, truth be told au, rizzler au, farmer au, anthro au, Digital pop up au, backfired au, chef au, cuphead au, BABQFTIM au, carnival au, internet explorer au, kidnapper au, robber au, parental figure au, parent au, father au, apple picker au, trans au, siren au, mermaid au, cloud critters, monster energy au, emo au, goth au, alt goth, prince au, princess au, priest au, reality au, Epic the musical au, bass voice au, prince of the sea au, stranger au, never used au, stranger things au, abandoned au, hazbin hotel au, lemon and lime au, softie au, grunge au, sugar crush au, rainbow friends au, block break friends au, sugar crush au, sweet tooth au, undertale au, heartless au, toxic au, waist au, epic au, error au, fresh au, reaper au, horror au, other sans aus, medical au

[velvetvexations]

My special interests are Science in general except for DNA/RNA/stuff on the molecular level in general and also astronomy. Within that, especially ecology, entomology, and geology. Also dragons, medieval europe, armor, cats, and clowns. Kinda have. A lot but. So it goes XD. I've only played wizardry 8, stardew valley, minecraft, and ffxiv. Oh and a handful of furry vns. I really like celtic punk and irish folk music!! Especially Gaelic Storm

I like Irish folk! Trouble by Horslips rules.

[stoatcery]

pinnnned post! huge wip, pardon the mess- this is just a draft, so expect this to change [wording/layout/etc].

desktop users are encouraged to use my custom theme! it's funky & easy on the eyes :3

achilles ✦ ⚨ ✦ it/thae/they/he ✦ 25 ✦ not human

transmasc androgyne nonhuman furry pagan thing who's trying to embrace being messy & strange & unabashedly cringe ✌️ also trying to branch out into drawing kinky art because that makes me happy!

not new to tumblr in the least bit, but i am new to drawing adult content

this is an art blog & a space for me to be kinda horny on main, though i may occasionally reblog aesthetic images [primarily for inspiration archival purposes]. i primarily draw in mspaint [old & new] & clip studio paint. i have a bunch of fursonas for self expression, and will probably have more as time goes on!

i love crunchy fantasy pixels, psx & 2007-ass graphics, ttrpgs, plushies, care bears, littlest pet shop, and weird kinks. i'm one of those anti-censorship punks with a puphood that puritans warned you about lol

navigation stuff for mobile users will go heerreee

my blog is still a huge work in progress, so nothing is [fully] set up just yet

[thiswasinevitableid]

Beware the Bear (Indruck)

The winner of the "spooky places" prompt poll was 24 Hour Arcade

Credit to Bellafarallones for initially playing in the "only nice when a werebear" super villain space on discord.

The Halloween season is the only time Kepopolis becomes less grim. The winter holidays offer too much contrast, too much of a reminder that the world could be warm, bright, and peaceful if only somebody gave a damn. The rest of the time there’s nothing to offset the gloom, no way to ignore the tombstones of utopia clouding the skyline. Not without feeling like an ostrich whose head is in the sand while a lion runs off with its body. 

Come the end of July, the city reaches an agreement to spend three months coated in orange and purple lights and fake cobwebs, to pretend everything is a horror movie backdrop that will roll away when November comes. 

Mothman’s Arcade is no exception, though Indrid prides himself–as owner–on going above and beyond when it comes to Halloween cheer. He’s rather pleased with this year’s purchase of new, blacklight responsive skeleton banners, which flap cheerfully on the walls as he clocks out, Kirby waving to him as he comes in for his midnight to eight a.m shift. 

It’s eight blocks home, blocks he could do blindfolded, and there are even two streetlights between here and there. Maybe that’s why he lets his mind wander far enough that it’s like being yanked by the throat when someone speaks to him. 

No, wait, someone’s hand is literally on his throat. 

“Okay pal, we don’t want any trouble.” The taller of the two muggers pushes him into an alleyway, behind a dumpster where he has no chance of being seen, “wallet and anything else you’ve got.”

Indrid passes over his wallet, knowing full well there’s nothing in it to steal. The second robber opens it and frowns, “you got anything else? Maybe some cash you’re taking to the bank after emptying those machines?”

He tries not to think too hard about the fact he’s been stalked from work, nor about the fact he does have an envelope of cash he’d been planning to deposit in the morning. 

“Hey, shithead, you heard me, you got any cash?”

“No. I do not have any.” He lies. 

His back bangs into the dumpster as four hands shove and tug at his clothes, coming away with the envelope. His heart sinks; there goes payroll and his nose. 

“You lying piece of-”

Both men leave the ground at the same time, their feet kicking in the air as huge, furry paws grip their scruffs. 

“Now fellas, I’m gonna give you two options: you either give this man back his money and walk away, or I take his money back and toss you in that dumpster.”

The envelope smacks Indrid in the face, sneakers pattering away before he gets it back into his pocket. 

Were-creatures aren’t unheard of in Kepler, and there was a very nice were-cougar who used to come to the arcade after work to place Pac-Man. But he’s never been this close to a werebear, and even on all fours the monster’s snout is level with his face. 

“You okay, slim?” One blue eye and one brown one look him up and down, “they didn’t hurt you too bad?”

“My back is bruised” The adrenaline is dying and his fingers are starting to shake, “I, I’m more shaken up than anything else. And honestly feel very foolish. I know better, I just, I live here, I know here and, and do I look like the kind who has money on him??”

“Nah. But in a cool punk way, not in a bum way.” The werebear pads beside him back onto the sidewalk, “you want me to walk you home? Just in case those chuckleheads get any ideas?”

“Yes, please. It’s not far.” Indrid turns towards Oak Avenue, follows it until Pine, the werebear staying a polite distance to his right, occasionally stopping to throw litter into the nearest trash can.

When they reach Eastwood Apartments, Indrid hesitates. 

“They ain’t followin’ us, if that’s what you’re scared of. Can’t smell ‘em. Just you and” he sniffs the air, “couple of raccoons. Aww, there they are.” He smiles as the masked faces look up from the rain gutter at him. 

He’s so cute. And huge. And Indrid’s apartment is cold this time of year.

“Would you like to come up with me? I haven’t had dinner and it seems only polite given you helped me.”

“If it ain’t too much trouble, sure.”

There’s a slight amount of trouble navigating a werebear up the narrow stairs, but they manage, and his guest sniffs out the water glasses while Indrid opens the fridge. 

“I warn you, I have only the fanciest foods. Behold” he presents the boxes of pizza rolls with a flourish. 

The werebear laughs, “Hell yeah you do.”

Indrid heats the rolls as claws gently click across the fake tile, his furry protector studying the art and posters on the walls and frowning at the shaky kitchen table leg. Since the chairs are not werebear sized, Indrid perches on the arm of the couch as the werebear happily sits and leans against the wall. 

“May I know the name of my guest?” Indrid swings his legs.

“Duck. It’s a nickname.” The werebear drops half the plate of rolls into his mouth, “So, uh, Indrid, what’s it like workin’ at an arcade?”

“How did–oh, yes, my nametag–well, it has its benefits and it’s annoyances like any job. But the hours suit me and I own the place free and clear. Plus being in charge means I pick what goes in the vending machines.”

“You get free play too?”

“Yes. Also the discretion to give tokens to who I please and select the least grim plushes for the prize counter.”

“Who gets free tokens?” Duck finishes his plate.

“Anyone who saves my life, for starters.” Indrid winks at him, gets an ear wiggle in reply. 

“Wouldn't turn down a few, especially if you got old school games. Or Tony Hawk ones. Seriously though, how do you decide who to give ‘em too?”

Indrid explains and finds four more follow up questions waiting for him. Duck makes conversation like a man who hasn’t heard a human voice in ten years. Indrid doesn’t mind one bit. 

Eventually, his body reminds him he needs at least a little sleep, and he yawns. 

“Oughta let you get to bed.”

“I suppose…” Indrid bites his lip, “but I really am enjoying spending time with you. If you have somewhere to be I completely understand but, ah-”

The werebear stands, snuffling the top of Indrid’s head, “Okay slim, I’ll keep you company until you fall asleep.”

Duck covers his paws with his eyes while Indrid changes into his pajama pants and a sweater, then lays down next to the mattress. He’s big enough that his head is level with Indrid’s as they lay in the dark. 

Indrid falls asleep on his stomach, but when he wakes up during the night, he finds he’s draped an arm over a snoozing Duck. 

When he wakes up again, it’s to cursing and the sound of someone rifling through his rickety dresser. 

“Nooo” he whines playfully, “don’t go. You’re so warm and fuzzy, you should stay here.”

“Yeah, well, warm and fuzzy time is over.” A gruffer version of last night's drawl is accompanied by a shutting drawer, “I’m taking these swears and one of these tank tops.”

“Oh, of course.” Indrid sits up, putting on his glasses, “It hadn’t even occurred to me that you’d need clothes if you changed back while here.”

“Bettin a lot of things don’t occur to you.” Duck pulls on the shirt. It stretches across his belly and dark hair peeks through the collar. This softens the insult severely. 

“Well, you’re welcome to them. I have a sweatshirt that might fit too, you can drop it back off at the arcade when you have a chance.”

“Got better things to do than return some kids' laundry.” 

“In that case, no sweatshirt, as I happen to like it.” Indrid stands, crossing his arms, “if you are being defensive because you are afraid I will tell people you are a werebear, you do not need to be. I know people do not always treat the unfamiliar well. Your secret is safe with me.” He tries to meet Duck’s eyes, but the shorter man keeps looking away from him. His face is round, handsome but hardened, and all Indrid wants to do is run his fingers over it. 

“That ain’t what I’m afraid of. Honestly, ain’t afraid of anything you’d do, skinny. I could break you in half. All the same, this never happened, y’hear?”

“Perfectly.” Indrid sits back down, “Is there any chance I will see you again? Perhaps in a less, ah, grumpy mood?”

Duck opens the door, pauses, then says, “doubt it” before stepping through and slamming it shut. 

—--------------------------------------------------------------

There was a time where waking up next to a cute guy would have made Duck’s day. There was a time where a lot of things would have made his day; seeing a cool plant, talking with Juno, leading a tour group. 

That was before. This is after. Now if only he could remember that four all the days of the month. 

His lunch is a protein smoothie and a sleeve of Thin Mints, which he bought two full moons ago, making one Brownie’s day.

He looks at the cookie in his hand. He bets Indrid would love cookies for lunch. 

No. That Duck doesn’t come out again. Not until next month, anyway. 

—--------------------------------------------------------------

Barclay sips his from his travel cup, emblazoned with the logo of Amnesty Lodge, as he and Indrid stand in line for the ATM in the evening light. 

“You want to go see the new Scream movie with me? Brian bailed.”

Indrid isn’t surprised, given that his friend’s boyfriend seems like he’d prefer anything to spending time with Barclay. 

“I’d love to.”  

He moves one spot forward in line, then hears Barclay groan, “guess we’re getting our cash somewhere else.”

Indrid turns to see a supervillain striding towards the line. It’s the Bear, in his beaten duster coat and black mask, boots tromping on the concrete. 

“Everybody moves aside, nobody gets hurt.” He doesn’t even have to flash the gun on his hip; Indrid and the others all move away from the ATM, giving him unimpeded access. 

He’s heard the Bear is a very physical villain. He’s still not expecting him to just walk up and punch the ATM to get at the cash. 

There’s an ease and confidence to his strength, and when he hauls his bag over his shoulder it’s like he’s daring the world to take him on, just so he can give it a black eye to keep it humble. 

Indrid’s wondering what else he could do with those arms when Barclay nudges him and says, “C’mon, let's go grab dinner. I found this new sandwich place you’re gonna love.”

As they walk towards one of the less battered sections of Old Town, Indrid does wish he could have gotten a better look at the villain. 

He regrets this wish a week and a half later when, around two in the morning, a bank alarm sounds two blocks from the arcade.  A few seconds later a masked figure comes into the view through the window and ducks inside the arcade.

The Bear scans the consoles and Indrid pretends to be very busy with his inventory of tickets and tokens. Heavy footsteps that stop at the counter tell him this has not worked. 

“You the only one here?”

“Yes.” Indrid turns, keeps his eyes on the villain’s chest or lower. Which is a bit tricky since he’s actually taller than the pistol-packing example of Kepler’s finest cottage industry. 

“You gonna say anything if they come in?”

“No, as I am much less durable than an ATM. If it is of use to you, that room there” he points to his right, “is mainly full of machines that do not work. No one would ever go in.”

The Bear gives a grunt of assent and disappears through the glow in the dark curtains. Indrid returns to his checklist, only to put it down two minutes later as three cops shove the doors open and make a beeline for him. 

“Hey kid, you alone in here?”

Like any seasoned bystander of Kepler, Indrid lies. 

“Yes. It’s a very slow time of night for us.”

“We’re gonna have a look around all the same.”

He smiles, “Of course, officers. Oh, ah, but do be careful” he points to the glowing curtain, “my repair room has a leak in the roof and there is a terrible mix of water and loose wires in there.”

The cops do a short circuit of the main room, poking their heads into the storeroom, break room, and Indrid’s office before saying, “All clear. Night, kid.”

As the bell dings at their exit, Indrid mutters, “why does everyone keep calling me that? I am thirty-three.”

He’s still musing aloud as he kneels and starts unboxing plushes for the prize shelf. Just as he decides the Bear must have snuck out the back door, weather beaten boots step from the curtain. 

“Nice hiding spot you got back there.”

“Thank you.” Indrid looks up, which means he’s staring at the Bear’s crotch. A roaring, golden grizzly sits as his belt-buckle above a tantalizing bulge in his pants.

“Appreciating the view?”

“I, ah, I” he blushes, figures there’s no harm in a flattering truth, “yes.”

A hand roughly ruffles his hair, “Consider it a thank-you.” The hand moves through his hair again, slower this time, almost gentle, “and you oughta fix up that two-player Pac Man. It’s a crowd pleaser.”

“I will keep that in mind.” He starts to look up farther, to catch a glimpse of that handsome face in the colorful lights of the machines, but the Bear lets go as he tilts his head, turning his back and sauntering out of the store. 

Indrid hopes he’ll see him again, just for the masturbation fodder, but he doesn’t. There’s no sign of him around for weeks, and so Indrid figures he left for a new neighborhood. That or something scared him away. It’s that exact thought he’s mulling over when a knock comes to his door and he opens it to find a different kind of bear altogether.

—----------------------------------------------------------------

Duck spent two weeks and change avoiding any place he might see Indrid motherfucking Cold, in spite of the fact his werebear senses, dulled as they are when he’s a human, kept picking up his scent around town. 

So what does he do the minute he transforms? He turns his useless-ass paws towards that skinny weirdo’s door. The moon wasn’t even all the way up yet. 

By the time he’s there, he’s feeling much better; there’s no harm in having a friend he sees once a month. Or maybe even more than a friend, if Indrid is into the idea. 

The human is surprised when finds Duck on his doorstep, but the resulting smile is worth every second of arguing with himself about this. 

“Thought I, uh, I’d check to see if you needed a walk to work? Or if you turned out to be at work, was gonna offer to walk you back.”

“I start at midnight this week.”

“Yeesh, don’t know how you do it.”

“I have always been a night owl of sorts. I used to stay up drawing until I passed out in my crayons.”

Duck follows Indrid inside, chuckling, “You’re like a little moth.”

“Beg pardon?”

“Y’know, all nocturnal and interesting to look at. And you got those tattoos” He tips his snout at the Luna moth on one shoulder and the Emperor Moth on his arm.

Indrid cocks his head, “Duck, have you been trying to come up with a nickname for me?”

“Maybe, uh, I mean, uh, fuck, I…yeah.” He scratches his ear sheepishly. 

“I’m flattered you’d spend so much time thinking of me.” Another smile, a touch more guarded.

Duck drops to all fours so he can meet Indrid’s eyes, “Hey I, uh, I wanted to apologize for last time. I know I was a dick the next morning, and I shouldn’t have been. In fact, that was me trying my damndest not to be, in some ways. When I get all fuzzy I get, well, fuzzy in here too” he taps his chest, “when I ain’t always the nicest the rest of the time. If that means you’d rather I scram, I can. I gotta patrol some tonight anyway.”

Indrid pets his cheek, dooming him to months of trying to recreate the touch with his own fingers, “Thank you for apologizing. And explaining. I’d very much like company on my way to work, and you’re welcome to play and, ah, shoot the breeze, as they say, once we’re there.”

“Sounds great” Duck nuzzles his forehead, “I’m gonna go patrol; when I’m like this, it’s easy to be a hero for folks, and I like to help when I can. See you at midnight, slim.”

“See you then” Indrid purrs. 

—-------------------------

Indrid takes his spot in the tour bus; the Monongahela is beautiful this time of year, and he promised himself that he’d finally get around to taking the tour up the Greenbank summit to see the view. 

As the bus putters forward, he pulls a postcard from his coat pocket. It was waiting for him this afternoon. 

There’s been one in his mail every three days for the last two weeks. 

This one is of the Kepler waterfront. On the back, in slightly sloppy writing, is this:

Hi little moth, 

You ever been on the ferris wheel here? I went as a kid. It’s how I learned I was scared of heights. Wouldn’t stand on anything taller than the front step for months. 

We should go some full moon. I know a real cool spot to see river otters. 

-Duck

The messages have all been written in the same pen. His address has not, and the writing looks like someone’s hand was being forced across the paper. All he can figure is that the reason Duck left early to “run an errand” was so he could write all these before his cranky self returned. 

Untangling his feelings about that is barely started by the time he reaches the summit. He wanders out with the rest of the group, reads the few signs and takes in the view. There’s a firewatch tower near a small, seasonal gift shop, and he looks up to see a man in a ranger uniform watching the visitors, stony-faced all the while. 

Then he sees Indrid and pulls his hat down over his eyes before crossing to another rail. 

That does explain why so many of the postcards are from the national forest.

—---------------------------------------------------------------------

In Duck’s defense, he thought Roswell crashing the governor’s civic celebration banquet would keep the cops occupied the whole night. That’s the only reason he’s now running for the one place in this neighborhood he knows he can hide. 

Indrid is behind the counter like last time, looking exasperated rather than afraid when he sees who it is. 

“Same room as last time?” 

“Damn right.” Duck slips into hiding, listens as Indrid does the same song and dance with the cops as before. 

Huh. The two-player Pac Man has definitely been tinkered with since the last time he was here. 

This time, when he steps through the curtain Indrid is waiting for him. 

“You know, I have a perfectly functional back door. You do not need to make me lie for you. You could just run out that door and into the alley or up a fire escape like a sensible villain.”

Duck is not in the mood to be lectured. Not by someone who could never understand what it’s like. 

He grabs Indrid’s shirt and shoves him against the wall, pressing close as he growls, “Let’s get on thing real clear: I can make you do any goddamn thing I want.”

Indrid’s squeak of alarm is not as alarmed as Duck needs it to be right now. 

“Heh, I get it. You’re one of those villain chasers.”

“Nono. If anyone is it’s my friend, I am certain he reads fan-fiction about villains abducting civilians and I will stop speaking now, apologies I babble when, when-”

“Nervous?”

“That’s not quite the word I’d use.” Indrid leans closer, peering at his face, and asks the worst possible question. 

“Do I know you?

“N-no, uh, fuck, you, you don’t not, fuck”

He should punch him and run. Yeah. That’ll work. 

Duck balls his fists and yanks Indrid into a kiss. The other man stiffens, then melts with a moan and cups Duck’s face, kissing him back like he knows him. Duck could break the kiss any second he wanted to, he could, if Indrid would just stop touching him, stop making pleased little sounds and hooking one ankle around Duck’s calf. 

Indrid pulls away, humming happily, and smiles, “You should consider solving more of your problems that way. You are very good at it.”

Duck’s heart sings with affection. So he snarls, shoves Indrid into a pinball machine, and runs out the door. 

—----------------------------------------------- 

It’s not Duck’s fault.

It’s not his fault that Indrid looked so sad in the early morning light, not his fault Indrid chose to wake up extra early so he could bid the werebear goodbye (because Duck had decided to spare him dealing with his grumpy human self come dawn).

It’s not his fault. Just like the dock fire wasn’t his fault. Just like it wasn’t his fault when he saw what the city was doing to Agent X and couldn’t convince them to stop. Just like it wasn’t his fault that they goaded Athena into leveling two city blocks. Just like it wasn’t his fault that when Kepler Chemical blew it’s goddamn top, he was the only member of his team to survive. 

Indrid Cold is just some guy. Duck will not be responsible for him. 

“Ahem.”

Indrid Cold is just some guy who is now standing in the door of the firewatch tower. 

“We need to talk. And please do not try to lie, that is torture beyond anything you can do as a villain.”

“I uh, I-”

“Duck.”  Indrid says more firmly. 

“What? You want a fuckin medal for putting who I am together?”

“No. I want…I wanted to talk with you as human you. Because I am not sure how much of when you are a bear you remember, but last night you begged me to be your boyfriend.”

“And you said no.” It comes out pathetic and defeated.

“Correct. Because I do not want a boyfriend who is kind to me one night a month. Who only wants to see me one night a month.”

“I do.” He bites his tongue, which does nothing.

“You do not act like it. You barely act like human-you sees me as a person, even when he’s not in his villain outfit.”

Duck takes a step closer, “Indrid, a whoooole lotta folks have tried to talk me out of the villain thing, and they offered way more than some skinny freak who’d let me fuck him now and then.”

Indrid’s face remains placid, “I’m not trying to talk you out of anything, or into being a hero again–yes I said ‘again’, anyone with any sense can work out who you used to be even if you or the city won’t confirm it–I am telling you that I am not going to be wooed one night and ignored for thirty, even if the one night makes me so very deeply happy. I think whoever you are when you are a werebear is still in there, and I want that person.”

“I ain’t sure I can give him to you. It’s…it’s complicated, little moth. I got my reasons for things and while they ain’t all noble they ain’t because I get my kicks being an asshole.” He tucks his hands in his pockets, feeling two-feet tall, “but I hear what you’re sayin. You don’t want me around, you say the word and I’m gone. Give you my goddamn word.”

“And what if?” Indrid closes the space between them, “I said I wanted you to try going out to dinner with me like this? Just once, after I get off work, as casual as you like.”

Duck meets his eyes, “I’d say The Bear ain’t one to run from a challenge.”

Indrid kisses him once, “Tomorrow at eight?”

“I’ll be there.”

Indrid turns for the door, then looks over his shoulder as he says, with a wink, “and if you come early, I might even give you some free play tokens for the pac man game I just fixed.”

“You got a deal, slim.”