Untitled Beastars Script

A ferocious romance set in the Beastars universe, tying themes of personal development with violence and consumption. Younger male perspective, of age, as puny and useless as you like, or not, up to you. Big cat lady, in whichever ways you like. A few authors notes required. This is a storyboard script. Some bloodshed, but no vore. Implied sex...in the dark. (!!)

Synopsis

Depressed herbivore stuck at home for fear of the dangerous meat market outside while his carnivore roommate seduces and murders others for dinner like it's just another dinner date.

One evening she decides to eat in. With plenty of time to escape, will he leave through the front door, or finally open the bedroom?

Starring BEEG snow-leopard lady and smol, useless herbivore dude, hoofs and horns, but_you_ get to pick the species. (whee!)

The Day Of

He sends the e-mail off and slouches back in the computer chair // fanning himself from the last of the heat built up through the evening. She barges through the entryway // helping a drunk date balance as it teeters and sputters nonsense. She briefly teases him about his lifestyle before shoving it (yes it, the date) into the bedroom. He turns and barks about a recent job prospect and good health exam results. For once, he adds. While she grins back on her way in, he furls his face at her // turning away to crouch his feet up in the chair. He puts a large pair of headphones on // expecting things to heat up behind that door soon.

After hearing a couple slams, roars and confused screams of agony // his face contorts just enough to betray fear // but he distracts himself again. The handle rattles as crunches and muffling are heard up against it. We catch some blood splatting under the crack. Too quickly this time, everything goes silent.

He chokes on his noodles // splatting some liquid on the desk and keyboard. He moves down on his knees // coughing to the trash bin beside the desk. His ears turn behind him // to hear the door creak ajar. She asks if everything is alright. He catches his breath and replies // a little pissed // asserting the truth of his news. Her tail swishing out the door a bit // she confirms that she believes him. Sputtering for her to close it after catching a whiff of the fresh kill // he scampers to get some water from the kitchen // and take a drink out on the balcony.

Leaning over the rail // staring hopelessly into the busy market below // he watches waves of carnivores clash through // shouting, arguing, pushing each other aside. Despite years cooped up in the high-rise // he still sees himself on the chopping block at any moment, declaring himself stranded.

Returning inside // and back to the chair // he begins cleaning up the noodle drops with a tissue, wondering, no hope for or clue how he'll ever escape. He looks to the front door // then back outside. Especially living with someone so high profile, he mutters. Leaning his head back, he figures people come and go in the Black Alley Market all the time, no shop or bar owner would take notice if she struck twice. He sighs, listening to the light buzz of the monitor in front of him // lazily beginning to droop to one side.

The power goes out.

His vision darts around the room waiting for his eyes to adjust. He notes the weather is fine // and can't recall hearing any thunder from the distance. He jumps as the bedroom door unlocks // curling tightly into the back of the seat. No way, he worries, she's done way too soon, she usually takes at least an hour. He hears her waltz out and stuff some linens into a garbage bag. All as usual he notes // but when she ties it up shut // he knows for sure it's_not_ covered in what you'd expect from a one night stand.

His head jerks back // as he hears her slump on the futon behind him. Slowly peeking around the back of the chair // his fear is momentarily forgotten. She's curled up with his bedding, her back to him. He shouts at her. She // confirms his existence with a tired reply. He shouts again, going on about blood stains // starting a short argument about who owns them. He gets up from the chair // but she growls to stave off his approach. This startles him at first // but he notices she buried the pillow against her face // and barks at her about sleeping there. She tosses the other behind her // and slyly, tells him he can sleep outside with it, remarking on his lack of hospitality // and teasing him about his size. (something like: "kiddoe, the apartment is big enough for the both of us. and!? and this pillow for the whole of you." hahahaaa, I can't wait to draw this) Pissed // but easily defeated // he reaches to grab the pillow.

Without rolling, she snatches his hand and holds it down // extending a claw to scrape down his wrist. After a yelp and a short jump // he stands stooping, panicking, not daring to move // his free arm pressed against his chest. He gasps in awe at the red on her fingertips, staining the fur all the way up her forearm. She tells him she's reconsidered, emphasizing he can sleep //anywhere he wants tonight.

He hesitates after her release // but slowly continues and takes the pillow. Having to hold it with both arms from the top // he glances at the red where her hand held it // then looks toward front door // and the sliding glass again // not queuing in yet. With a start, he finally looks toward the bedroom door. From behind him looking up from a worms eye view, we see it tower over him, still half open // and with a splatter at the base. He backs off // bringing the pillow to the kitchen. After a quick, worrisome glance out the window // to the thorns and tangles he sees below // he plops it on the floor // and curls up, shaking. Compared to what's out there, somehow // he's less concerned of the carnivore just a few feet away.

Day After

A metallic pop rings and a bright ball of light pierces his eyelids from above. Staring at it confused at first, he remembers the power outage // and stretches up to flick the switch. The one in the main room had been toggled, and now the garbage bag was missing with her shoes. Midday sun shone through the glass, he had slept in as usual so she must have left. The telephone rings, speaking of the devil. She's at the market // looking at food. She decided to eat in tonight // to celebrate the good news of course. Teasing, she talks about buying meat from his species // but before he can grovel back at her // she offers a treat for him, too. She says she'll bring plenty of greens and that his favorite snack bar is on sale // it comes in apricot now. He calms himself // and appreciates her. She tells him she'll pick up some light drinks later in the evening // and they hang up.

Author's note: At this point in the comic, a montage of panels will pass to describe his lifeless days and depressed mood. After that's done he'll lay down on the upright futon // swiping away a glance at his computer // then pull a blanket over his feet // and begin staring across at the bedroom door. He'll laze around like this for hours until she returns.

Night After

Quickly, he gets up from his slump // to the bristling of thin plastic. It's coming from down the hall. Stepping through the front door // with a smile, she greets him holding up two grocery bags. As she begins emptying the snacks onto the futon, he jokingly wonders if she's fattening him up. He asks the occasion // snorting when she starts talking about last night's power outage. Clearer, he asks why she's bought all the food. She glances at him and huffs // asking about the doctor's word on his health from the visit yesterday. Flatly he confirms. She signals her delight in reply // and urges him to get his strength back. Now he's sure she's fattening him up.

As she brings the rest of the food to the kitchen she lets him know the fridge will be restocked with real food now, no bags of medical dribble anymore. Nervously, he watches her tail bouncing around as she bends to unpack supplies. His eyes dart a few times // between it // and the salad tray in his lap // before just completely looking away, to be safe.

Legs crossed, still on the corner of the futon next to the desk // he peels off the tray wrapper // and puts it in the trash bin beside him. She walks past him // and pulls a short table off the wall // to sit down on the floor with. As she begins eating we see their heads level, demonstrating their height difference. He rarely gets to see her eat, he wonders // watching her gnaw into a fish with both hands // before he takes a bite of the apricot bar. Just as his head begins to tilt // from watching her jaws at work // his thoughts break. He's impressed, remarking on the new flavor.

He halts before thanking her // staring at the fishtail halfway out her mouth. Glancing flatly at him // she plucks it out and continues chewing on the remainder. As his eyes glaze over her fangs // he chokes on his sentence // calling the flavor "fresh". Alerted of her rude behavior, she jumps to cover her mouth. Her cheerful welcome muffled by it's contents.

His hands begin to shake from that. He strains to crack a drink // but her throat pulls a loud gulp // his big ears can't help but focus on. She cleans her hands with a wipe, watching him fumble // as the can starts to fizz. Quickly gripping it over the garbage // he begins chugging to stop the liquid from pouring out. Eventually, he pulls back to gasp for air. He glances over his shoulder // watching the cat watching him. While stroking her hair, she closes her eyes and cheers sarcastically at him, joking on his eagerness to get the party started. He furls his eyebrows // but can't help smiling with her // inquiring about the strength of the drinks as he reaches out to place his on the corner of the desk. Ignoring the question, she simply grins and licks her lips.

Her one arm on the futon now, for a moment they hold a stare. Her pupils constrict, slim and piercing // while his begin to relax. Both their lips part slightly.

With a look of friendly concern // she turns the topic to his job prospects. As he begins to give an answer, the power goes out again. Stopping briefly to curse, he continues // averting her gaze. His eyes trail off as they adjust // but his ears remain alert, she notices, despite the news of rejection. He feels a paw // on his ankle. She asks if he has anything else to report, pushing the question a few times. He looks over at the front door for escape before // returning down to her eyes again, tensing slightly. The moonlight from the balcony cuts across her face // highlighting sharp crests and troughs in her irises.

She breathes disappointment at his reply, looking down to the floor. Trying to act like he's in the clear // he slowly turns to reach for his drink again. Behind him she declares she'll cut to the chase.

Grunting into the action, she lunges on him, grabbing between his shoulders causing him to knock the can off the desk as she pushes him off the futon. (all one action, large illustration, think big motion blur) Slamming his face on the hard floor // she pins him down between her massive legs. All he can do is flail, reminding her to wrestle someone her own size // but with his chin flat, she pulls up on his horns // straining his neck until his arms give. Shouting in retort, he starts pounding on the ground // complaining about the dark liquid spilling in front of him // not queuing in to the real danger.

Pressing her muzzle against his neck // she cuts off his sentence with a long drawn out whiff // her face contorting tothe flehmen response. Stunned, his eyes widen in amazement and his cheeks flush hard. A chill runs from the back of his skull // down his throat // to his abdomen. What is this feeling, it's less cold, more ticklish, he notes, waiting for her to finish. A few more draws of his scent // before she calms her face again and begins speaking softly.

She talks about the time he's spent living with her, recalling his condition when they met and badgering him about his lack of employment. After he stares at the liquid in silence // guilty with no response // she acknowledges his recent recovery and reiterates his options: now that he's healthy, he can leave and go anywhere // or remain here with her // pausing to press a claw against his throat. Either way, she emphasizes the good news may be his last opportunity to start a real life.

Steadying his breathing, all he can do is feel her warmth // their fur splaying between her chest and his shoulders. After some silence // she releases her grip. As she lifts her head, her sleek hair slides up from it's drape over his horns. She stands // exits to the bedroom // and closes the door behind her // leaving the lock ready from the outside.

A minute passes // before he lifts onto a shoulder and begins to contemplate his decisions. He turns to look at the front door // then the sliding glass again. From the outside, we see him peer through towards the moon, watching a strong wind shake // and teeter a potted plant on the balcony. From the corner next to the kitchen entrance, we look down at him from above, his stature made even smaller compared to the room. Accepting his fate, he stares at the floor for a bit // before getting up.

He locks his eyes toward the bedroom // and just breathes. Guilt pours over him as he recalls his mistakes. He regrets being so ungrateful. He was homeless before she took him in. He imagines himself jumping off the balcony rail // falling into the abyss // or sprinting out the front entrance // only to be consumed by the same crowd // waiting to tear him apart. From this, he decides his life isn't worth living anymore // and begins taking off his clothes. At the very least, he wonders, he could give up his body // give his remaining life force to her. His face falls // and his eyelids droop // as he tosses his outfit aside // anxiously brushing the tuft on his chest.

No hesitation, he turns the handle // and creeps in // feeling the rush of air from the wind's pressure outside. No thought for the darkness // as he clicks the lock // and closes it behind him. We see dim light from the open blinds trace thin rectangles toward the center of the room, barely shaping out one side of the bed // covering his feet as he lumbers to stand at the end, slouching unhappily. The wind dies down leaving the room completely silent. His panting becomes more noticeable.

She speaks a single word to start him off // her voice heard vaguely toward the headrest. Without glancing to his feet // he tells her he's decided to stay. He slowly stammers to admit he was lying about the missed interview // and describes the e-mail he sent to cancel it // biting his lip. She reiterates that she always believed him, then assures him, softly, specifically // that he doesn't have to_lie_ to stay here. As he walks toward the window // and begins toying with the cable for the blinds // she asks him if he'll make it up to her. He grips the beads firmly, pausing with a short huff of guilt // before pulling them down and forcing pitch black.

Author's Note: havin' fun? Great, okay, so I'm_heavily implying_ that a bunch of violent sex ensues, but the story still works without it. Maybe she just uhhh...roughs him up a bit, y'know? At this point in the comic I hope to just do four or five full page illustrations depicting some positions and stuff. I was going to leave ya'll with some ideas to help spur the imagination, but to help this fic spread easier among NSFW restricted spaces, I have redacted this part of the story and left it completely up to the reader. Due to the violence, the submission will still be marked as 'mature' on A03, but no longer contains sexual content.

If you would like to read what was here, you can message me directly.

Hope you enjoy the rest!

Epilogue

He wakes early // blinking at the fluffy arm thrown over his shoulder. Now sunlight is coming through the blinds, enough to make out the contents of the bedroom. She continues her throaty purring // while he lifts her arm // and inches his way off the side. Looking around // he expected broken furniture and bloodstains // but everything seems normal. It was hardly ever a murder scene, he wonders, but he doesn't even second guess it.

In the bathroom he inspects the marks left, not sure if they've healed or if he should bandage them, or what. Despite being on the streets he had never been injured like this // though, his expression remains dull thinking about it. We see more across different parts of his body // as he's checking for medical supplies // in the cabinet // and drawers, not finding any. He grabs a robe // and ties it // on his way out to the balcony.

This time, when he leans on the rail // the street below appears calm, no longer a black hole of messy scribbles. He doesn't count too many residents // a few passing here and there // though it's still quite early. Over his shoulder we see her step out of the bedroom in a robe // and lick her lips. We look up at her as she walks behind him and begins idle conversation. Head down, now staring into calm waters // he sees her claws brandish at the sides of his vision. Slowly, she lifts his head up // to look at the horizon instead. We see the sunrise // cast long shadows behind them // up against the apartment // and across the surrounding cityscape.

From the side we see him pulled back as she sits down against the wall // and embraces him. Now low to the ground, looking through the hand railing like jail bars, we see him relax into her body. With her mouth hovering above his face // breathing into his ears // she brushes one of the marks on it with a paw pad // then squishes blood out, making him wince as it smears on his cheek. She quickly licks it off her finger // remarking that he's been free to leave since the beginning. He tells her he never wanted to // sighs // and admits he hampered his employment just to stay. She shifts around, adjusting their robes // then leans forward to begin licking one of the larger wounds across his shoulder. As the camera pans back from the balcony // we watch him relax further // displaying the surrounding buildings // and street crowds below. Creatures pass by on the ground level, merely creatures, no longer an ocean.

The End

Afterthoughts

I actually did a pretty bad job fitting the story into the Beastars universe, and it turns out there's a nagging plot hole I discovered after submitting. I'll let you key into that yourself. Here are some changes, mostly to cat lady, I hope will make the story better. Please leave a comment if you have any additional criticism of the story's place in the Beastars universe.

• cat lady's personality is wayy too one dimensional and her murderous tenancies are almost surreal. after all, meat addicts are supposed to go crazy in the world of Beastars.

• she needs a constraint, what's exactly stopping her from eating him?

• she definitely grew up in the Black Alley, surrounded by dead things that carnivores eat, so maybe she hates the confusion he brings as a live herbivore

• perhaps in him, she saw a lack of fear, the kind only seen in creatures at their limit

• Perhaps after he gets pinned:

• "He was dying when they met. Looking down, she knew he wouldn't be tasty // but when he looked up at her // his eyes probed // and she was completely disgusted. What a sick creature, she thought. Look away, LOOK AWAY, her heart demanded. His gaze made her furious."

• "Carnivores know this feeling, they know their place. They pay attention to the who's who every day, like it's a sixth sense. (here I'll pose her real fearsome like) She's always been up there on the ladder, yet there he lay, dejected and defeated // and still kicking his heels."

• "Monsters can be made to fear. He was // something else entirely."

• "She thought if she put her trust in him...(dunno why yet)"

• Later in the bedroom, his perspective of the past:

• "She was leaving through a backdoor, surrounded by bodyguards at the time. The exposed incandescence warming the side of her face as she turned to squint. Looking up to her was like catching a lightning bolt strike the horizon, as if she flashed and broke something."

• He saw a bold, volatile carnivore, one who's instincts made her flourish. He followed her, came to her, dejected and defeated, hoping her splendor would trickle onto him if he could just stick around. Despite the mystery of her killings, unable to fathom why the cuts from a local shop wasn't enough, he always believed she held greatness, and that he may become competent following in her wake."