Lucia
New Member
Only sugar... darn.
Posts: 12 
Full Name: Lucia
Species: European Pine Marten
Gender: Female
Homeworld: Earth #5062
Height: 5'7"
Weight: How rude! (120-ish pounds perhaps)
OOC Name: Jiggers
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Post by Lucia on Feb 28, 2014 15:59:42 GMT
No one knew for sure how long the three stayed like that. Some say it was months. That time itself froze, too afraid to come near. Others say it was but a second before the kinetic energy of 0's hug bounced off the recipients and blew them all apart; that there was nothing left but a slimy, greasy stain and a few stray fibers of sweater and scarf. Others say that the force of the hug created a black hole into which they were all trapped, stretched forever in its event horizon.
For Lucia, it felt like all three of those happened at once. The screaming, the pressure, the blood on her face, the feeling of all those limbs wrapped around her—every sliver of fur burst into flame, stood straight and burrowed back into her skin until she was bald and smooth and could feel everything, all over again.
She had a few fleeting thoughts:
je to, že čas už?—
sa mu len pižmo z tváre do pusy?—
takže určite nejaká jašterica?—
Ja neviem, myslím, že sa obracia ma na—
jo, môžem toku s tým—
ach môj nebeský kapusta dusené mäso—
And then she howled, a bang, a whimper, an ice-thawing moan deep in her chest, reverberating through her spine, her bones, her muscles, to the tips of her claws. Every synapse in her brain didn't just fire off; they strapped bandoliers of thermite grenades across their chests and dived into a broiling hot tub of white phosphorous with a martini in each hand.
The world burned beyond ultra-violet.
When her heart began to beat again, when her shriveled lungs exploded outward in their need for air, she pulled her mouth back from the kiss, licked her nose clean of blood.
She said, "Arašidové maslo..." and her eyes fluttered shut. She musked, and then went limp.
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Deleted
Deleted Member
Posts: 0
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Post by Deleted on Mar 4, 2014 16:56:51 GMT
Yes, well...hello-o-o--
and wrap and wrap and squeeeeeeeeze
...what am I doing again?
The tail fall backwards, as do I-- as does the weasel, apparently.
Who, now that I look at it, appears a bit different; yet, strangely familiar -- but I'd chock that up to her bein' limp an' all...and that's sort of how we first met, too!
WELL.
Part of it.
Anyhow -- I scooch forward, looking closely at the weasel as she hits the ground and simply lies there, water rushing over the both of us...yes, she DOES look different, doesn't she?
Somehow.
And it's not just the lack of clothes, either!
Despite the aforementioned lack thereof, and DESPITE the rain slicking down those pesky bodily hairs and making the weasel look like, she's actually not all that thin anymore!
"Have you gained weight?" I whisper, leaning forwards to slip the words into her ears.
My head cocks.
"Or is it muscle?"
She's darker too, but could that also be the water?
What's happened to her?
Was it bad?
Is she hurt?
Is she okay?
Why is she not moving?
Why is she not speaking?
I poke her face,
"Boop!"
then turn my eyes back on the man, what's-his-facename.
"You've got, uh-- you have, er...there's something on your face."
It's coming from your nose--!
I jump up and hurry over to him, poking him in the arm, then the nose, then at the fiwait that's not a fish.
Nor is it made of light.
...
...
Oops.
Ehe...grinning up at him, down at the weasel-- urp, I mean the MIGHT be weasel.
Then, popping up as I remember--
"'Arašidové maslo'?
"Arašidové maslo"...what is that, what language -- Russian?
Scandinavian?
No...too far -- Russian was closer, I think, but not quite right.
"'Arašidové maslo'...," I repeat, rattling the words around in my brain.
What does
it
smell like?
Sniffing, hff-hff-- oH!
OH I KNOW.
"Arašidové maslo!
Peanut butter!"
Twirling on my toes, I leap back over to the weasel and pluck her up by the tai-- no, too heavy...but I'll keep a hold on the tail.
/Just in case./
"Do you want peanut butter, weasel?
Do you like peanut butter?
Oo-- oo-- oo--!"
Bouncing around now, so excited!
It sounds so good, this idea, my stomach roars and I flip my tail out of existence-- there's a splash that sounds from the riverthing, additional water raining down on us all.
"We should have peanut butter and jelly sandwiches!
Eek!" I squeal, dropping the tail and running back over to the man.
"Can you make those?" I ask, prattling fast.
"Can you? Can you?
Eh?
Can you make them and can we eat them?
Please?
PLEASE?
/PLEASE?/"
Falling down, rolling over to the weasel, patting her on the back.
"/PPPLLLEEEAAASSSEEE???/"
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Gus
Accepted Character
Chump #1
Posts: 48 
Full Name: Augustus Dunhall
Species: Pied Crow Shifter
Gender: Male
Homeworld: Birdverse (1970's)
Height: 5'6"
Weight: 165
OOC Name: acorncap, Acorn
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Post by Gus on Mar 8, 2014 1:39:02 GMT
The howling was enough to snap him back into focus, just in time to see the otter's mouth approach his face in glorious, high-definition detail. He could have counted every individual strand of fur on her face (Instead he counted her teeth (38) without meaning to), until her mouth smushed against his so roughly his lips parted without his permission, and he felt his incisors clack against her own. He could taste her breath in his mouth and it wasn't until after she pulled away that he realized that every muscle in his body had tensed in an attempt to shift away from the situation (It failed. Of course it failed. But there was also a bizarre feeling of accomplishment- he'd always had what his mother deemed 'a bad habit' of sprouting feathers when distressed. Even though it wasn't self-control that kept them down, he could almost pretend it was.).
The otter slumped to the ground with the smell of something like excrement, and Gus stumbled backwards, horrified. Had the beast evacuated itself? No- no, it hadn't, though it certainly smelled like it had. He stared blankly as the child began chattering, and touched his lip when they mentioned something on his face. Blood. Wonderful. He pinched his nose and tilted his head up. The rain splattered into his eyes. Also wonderful. He closed them.
He did not know what the sudden obsession with peanut butter was. He wasn't going to question it. Mad children would ramble about anything, he supposed. He tilted his head back down and rubbed gently under his nose. The blood smeared across his upper lip and started streaking in watery little patterns down his face. His nose twinged (Please don't be broken.)
"I can. If I can find some, um, peanut butter. And bread. Jelly too I suppose." He debated leaving the - 'weasel', the child called it (He'd never seen a weasel, and he wasn't sure he should trust the labels of a deranged shape-shifter, but truth was up close and personal the 'otter' looked nothing like the otters at the zoo. (But then, otters at the zoo weren't this big either. Or this... "articulate".))- right there in the rain. It was obviously just as mad as the child, and Gus wasn't certain he could handle much more madness than that.
But. He couldn't. He wouldn't be able to live with himself (And he might have to do so longer than originally planned.) if he did. With a bit of a sigh he crouched down. "Are you all right?" he sounded a little less friendly this time around. A little more tired. He ran a hand through his hair. It was completely soaked. He was completely soaked. And the rain was not helping to dampen the smell of... whatever the weasel had done, farted or crapped itself or some other bizarre weasel-y habit.
They didn't respond. He shook their shoulder a bit, and they still failed to respond. "All right kiddo, help me get them up."
He slid one arm under the otter and tried to prop them up. They flopped backwards over his arm. Gus was not a weak man- he'd had to move his fair share of bodies around (Though he usually had a wheelie stretcher to help him transport them.), so with a grunt and a lot of awkward hopping, he managed to get them up off the ground without falling over backward. They weren't as heavy as they looked- but they weren't exactly light, either.
"Okay." he muttered. He could still smell them and resorted to breathing through his mouth. "Okay. We should ah. We should get out of the rain." He turned to the child. "Hold on to my elbow."
The street across from the river was lined with buildings. He wasn't sure what was in them, but they had to be drier than this.
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Jillian Doe
New Member
almost became a Jill sandwich
Posts: 15
Full Name: Jillian B. Doe
Species: Common Weasel, Mustela Nivalis Vulgaris
Gender: Female
Homeworld: Earth #5062
Height: 4'4"
Weight: 60-ish pounds
OOC Name: Jiggers
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Post by Jillian Doe on Mar 9, 2014 17:12:36 GMT
The restaurant had that old-world Italian feel: some wrought-iron outdoor seating, white and red stripes, ivy hanging down the sides of the windows, a 3-piece animatronic accordion band composed of a skunk wearing an Eskimo's parka, a beaver with a straw hat and muddy overalls, and a tiger wearing a Roman toga. The smell of garlic wafted into the street, despite the fact that no one had cooked anything in there since it was created.
There were also a disturbingly large amount of stickers on everything, of a doe-eyed purple squid with a little sailor's cap. If one looked closely, the wrought-iron chairs had little squids carved into them, and there were little squids on the wood paneling, and on the accordions, and on the umbrellas...
There was purple cursive on the window, displaying the restaurant's name, but if you tried to read it, well... good luck to ya. It's in Doctor's Note Cursive. Using Sanskrit. Based off binary code. And written upside-down.
It was the shop to the left that Jill Doe was in, however. It was one of those shops that didn't really know what it wanted to sell. One aisle was power tools, one aisle was fine china, one aisle was pet supplies, one aisle was Lego, one aisle was rocket parts, one aisle was Barbies, one aisle was Andromedian-alien halloween costumes made for infants, one aisle was Civil War-era life-size voodoo dolls, one aisle was clocks, one aisle was portraits of Stalin with various pink-furred poodles in matching military regalia, and all of them were in disarray because Jill had been in there for two days and still did not know the front door was a pull, not a push.
She was getting really sick of ferret kibble.
Jill had changed her clothes as best as she knew how. Taking her nightgown off was not quite an option, but she had managed to tear off an Union sergeant's coat and get her arms into it, even if it was backwards (but that just meant she didn't have to try the buttons because she couldn't teach them.)
She pressed her face against the glass, from the top of her head to the pink of her nose, so that from the other side all one could see was a large brown V with little black dots on the sides.
Ms. Juice kept silent vigil by the front door.
As Gus and 0 passed by the shop carrying Lucia, Jill's eyes widened. She began banging on the glass and zheeping, too overwhelmed by having company to speak any coherent (or non) words.
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Deleted
Deleted Member
Posts: 0
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Post by Deleted on Mar 11, 2014 1:45:43 GMT
He is so handsome.
Look at that.
Look at him.
Walking along, just, minding his own business; smells musky, like a MAN.
...That's what it is, right?
Didn't poo himself, did he?
Would he be any less of a man if he did?
...What's a man does it taste goo-- OH RIGHT.
AND AND he has some clothes draped over his shouldersss, probably going to go do some laundry soon.
Oo, a laundromat...I'd love to ride in a washing machine, wouldn't I?
Bubbles everywhere.
Spinning all the time.
Get out, throw up a bunch of water, and then the clothes that I ate.
All clean!
Perfection.
You'll love it, you'll love it; come on, let's do it.
I know you'll love it, come ooooooon.
Oh, right--
yes, and he is also dragging along this giant slinky.
It's furry, and it smells.
Oh, sorry-- SHE.
I'm still pegging it for a weasel though, aight?
Though she still looks really different...I'm starting to think it isn't HER -- THE weasel, I mean.
From before.
In the forest.
That passed out and peed on me.
It was gross.
But it's okay.
We're friends now!
That's why she passed out in my hug -- it was so great she just couldn't physically take it!
I am the best.
You know it.
Later, gator.
Cool as ice.
Man, but I'm still hungry, aren't I?
I rub my stomach, which growls; I look at my one arm, the one that's wrapped around his elbow.
Man, we should go SKIPPING through some MEADOWS.
It would be BOSS.
We'd be the coolest cats in the cave!
Er, meadow.
Hey, you know what?
All he needs is a CAVE -- an ADVENTUROUS cave...to go SPELUNKING.
I still don't really know what spelunking is, y'know?
Oh, well.
I think it's basically just jumping from wall to wall like the best spider ever, but--
OH MY GOOOOSH
A PUPPY
A PUPPY IN A WINDOW
HOW MUCH IS THAT PUPPY IN THAT WINDOW
HIHI
OH MY GOD YOU ARE SO CUTE
Look at those big black sad eyes, that itty bitty nose, that huma-- waiit...ANOTHER weasel?
But this one is actually thin!
Could it be her?
No, no-- this one's acting too wild!
Well, tame-- no, no...petlike.
Pettish.
I wanna pet the pettish.
I watch as we start to pass the window by, as the animal suddenly pulls its face from the window (what a nice smudgy imprint, yeh?) and starts banging and banging and jumping and jumping and crying and crying and ohmygoshyouaretoocute.
I let go of the man's arms and squeal in glee, tapping on the window and barking back at her.
Two large ears flip forward out of my head, big as my head and bat-like too (DANANANANANANANANA), and twirling on their steams before orienting themselves towards the weasel; just as well, a cat tail swings out of my bottom, with two pairs of wings arranged in a nice little square near its tip, one pair like a bat's, and the other like a bird's (BATBIRD...BATBIIRD...BAATBIIRRD).
"CAN WE KEEP IT CAN WE CAN WE OH PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE
I'LL FEED IT AND I'LL PET IT AND I'LL EAT IT AND I'LL THROW IT UP AND I'LL CLEAN IT TOO
PLEASE PLEASE"
Twirling between the man and the animal in the window, I look and move towards the door, hand on the knob and ready to open it.
"HIHI WE'LL GET YOU FREE," I shout as knob squeaks turning and the door creaks open.
"FREEDOM OF THE PRESS ER TO THE PETS.
GOGOGO!"
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Gus
Accepted Character
Chump #1
Posts: 48
Full Name: Augustus Dunhall
Species: Pied Crow Shifter
Gender: Male
Homeworld: Birdverse (1970's)
Height: 5'6"
Weight: 165
OOC Name: acorncap, Acorn
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Post by Gus on Mar 14, 2014 22:52:38 GMT
Gus was peering intently into windows, looking for someplace that might 'sell' or at least store food. This seemed to be an odd part of town, as most places seemed to be selling unrelated odds and ends like inter-dimensional pawn shops. One store seemed to be dedicated solely to springs. One store looked as if it were filled with some sort of green jello- literally filled. It was seeping through the door cracks. Gus amended his search to 'someplace that stores food and is dry.'
He'd never admit it, but he was perfectly willing to pretend he did not see the other weasel (Perhaps they were natives, like the robots.) banging on the window of a store so terribly mis-matched Gus wasn't entirely sure it wasn't some sort of modern art display. But he was getting a little fed-up with the madness called other people, and on top of that he was beginning a mental countdown to their inevitable bout of pneumonia. He was going to march right past that window, yes he was, and no one was going to stop him. Maybe he'd come back for them later, but for now, he was a man on a mission, and he would not be deterred.
So of course, the child had to break from his arm and ogle the creature.
"Kid, come back- kid!" He listened a little despairingly to their prattle. "No, no you can't eat-" The child sprouted ears and winged tails, and he suddenly remembered that the could probably could do whatever it damn well pleased.
They reached for the handle. Gus raised his voice and tried again. "Please do not eat the weasel!"
A rather awful thought occurred to him as the door opened.
"Please do not eat the child!"
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Jillian Doe
New Member
almost became a Jill sandwich
Posts: 15
Full Name: Jillian B. Doe
Species: Common Weasel, Mustela Nivalis Vulgaris
Gender: Female
Homeworld: Earth #5062
Height: 4'4"
Weight: 60-ish pounds
OOC Name: Jiggers
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Post by Jillian Doe on Mar 19, 2014 15:21:06 GMT
There! There! The door—the animals...! They were...! It was...! She was...
FREE
Jill careened headlong into the wall, forgetting—that or just finding her limbs unresponsive to the request—to turn. But headlong into a wall, for a weasel, is like gently putting your hand on a guardrail, for anyone else. She scooped Ms. Juice up in her jaws and scampered—scampered so hard! The welcome mat flew off before Jill could get any forward momentum. The door! Open!
Hi, black animal! A mink! A sexy mink! No, too round. A black rat? Wrong ears, more like a mouse. Triangle-shaped, that suggested cat. Cats had wings. On their tails. Yes. So did badgers. Yes. She was pretty very sure about this. If she had to say, though, her favourite animal was the giraffe, because it could store food in its cheeks, which meant you could get a kiss and a snack at the same time.
She took 0's ears in her paws, dropped Ms. Juice out of her mouth, and gave its face a big welcome sniff and rubbed her whiskers all over. And much saliva was shared in this infodump of greetings.
"Yes," she said. "I like you. You're wet."
The rest of her information was spotty, at best. It was wet. It was a cat. It tasted good. Probably not female? Probably not male? Smelled a little like peanut butter, or was that just a residual thought she was tasting on its spit? Not the best kiss she'd ever had, no. Not the worst, either. She wouldn't know.
She turned to Gus, and politely gave his rear a good sniff as well. No tail? Not very informative back there, no musk glands or anything. Maybe male? Maybe? Chalk it up as a Could Be. Very wet, too, by the way. A+ on the wetness scale. 100% soaked.
It probably maaaaaybe had something to do with all the water coming from the sky. Jill had been watching it from the window, trying to figure out where it was going. No hypothesis formed yet.
Anyway—this animal, without any fur, without any tail. What was it? She paw-patted his cheeks, tilted her head. Giraffe, yeah. Looked like it. Could store a lot in those flabs. Weasels... weasels didn't really have cheeks. Just jaws. She showed him hers, and then focused on the thing, the thing... that she wanted to focus on.
It smelled so good.
It looked so good.
Definitely female.
Definitely wet.
Definitely a fruit bat. Yeah. Well four out of five wasn't bad?
"Let's go to my place," she said, to the unconscious Lucia. "Let's have dinner."
She smiled, with her whiskers and ears and eyes, and waited for someone to remind her where she lived.
Oh, Ms. Juice was getting so wet, too. Out in the rain and all.
A threesome, then.
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Deleted
Deleted Member
Posts: 0
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Post by Deleted on Apr 4, 2014 4:06:15 GMT
What a silly beast.
Hello-hello, yes, hello; I grin.
No worse for the wear, are you?
Head to wall, and yet--
...thank you for that face-full of saliva.
"SNTCH!"
I sneeze delicately as the beast states that she likes me.
Or is that an odd hiccup?
Hm.
I flick the tail, their tiny quad-wings fluttering furiously for a moment as I watch her sniff the bro's bum.
...Bro.
...
I HAVE A BROTHER?
No-- no-- NO.
Focus.
Blink.
Smile-- no, that's a creepy grin.
Try again...no, that's a sneaky smirk-- well...good enough, I suppose.
The ears flick forwards, then roll backwards, back into my head, disappearing into oblivion
-- oblivion, I say!
Next: head-tilt.
I approach the now-trio, curious; I reach forward to poke lightly at the plush animal in the fur animal's hands-- then I pull back.
It is not nice to poke things.
...But I want to anyways.
I reach again, then-- wait...words -- her words.
I remember what we were doing!
"Hey, we were just heading out for some food," I say, bouncing up in between them all, right into an obstructionist's view.
"Hopefully some peanut butter and jelly sandwiches.
But-- what would you have?"
I glance at the man, the giant marten-thing hanging limply over his body.
Would he know?
Well-- she should, right?
I nod at the new weasel.
Then I take a breath, grabbing the tail, pulling it right off, and start waving it around in the air.
"You are cool!
Where do you live?
How do you live?
Nice whiskers!
What do you eat?
Is your fur soft?
Can I touch it?"
I reach to pat at her, then again, for the third time, try to poke at her stuffed toy.
"Who is this that you're holding?
Is it edible?
It's cute!
Also awesome!
Why is your tail so small?
Your ears are too!
Are you, perchance, related to any other weasels?
Are you related to either of these two?
Do you at least know them?
Are they friends of yours?
Hey, why were you in that store?
Is there food in there?
What about drink?
Can I have some?
Oh!
Where did you say you live again?
How do we get there?
Is it a hole?
Will we even fit in it?
Are you new here?
Are you sure you don't know any of us?
Do you know where the nearest restaurant is?
I'm hungry!
Aren't you?
Really hungry.
Let's go find something to eat!"
Ah, yes...the ceremonial barrage of questions -- how I've missed thee.
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Gus
Accepted Character
Chump #1
Posts: 48
Full Name: Augustus Dunhall
Species: Pied Crow Shifter
Gender: Male
Homeworld: Birdverse (1970's)
Height: 5'6"
Weight: 165
OOC Name: acorncap, Acorn
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Post by Gus on Apr 9, 2014 2:33:06 GMT
Gus jumped a little as the giant weasel came about to sniff his rear. It left his bum feeling tingly, as if it were embarrassed for itself. "Um, uh, hello?"
He stiffly allowed the pawing of his face, hands too full of crazy to do anything to stop it. He could feel the very tips of her claws tap-tap-tapping at his skin, dragging lightly over the surface like a woman with long nails might when she wasn't paying attention. A moment of horror as one touched just below his eye, and the creature bared its teeth at him, before the creature finally became bored. Or maybe it found what it was looking for.
Definitely found what it was looking for, if what it was looking for was a good hundred or so pounds of fur and stink and mis-placed sexual urges. "They're ah, they're asleep. You understand, asleep?" He nodded. The Creature seemed excitable, and not much unlike the Child (Going to have to name them, eventually, if they don't give me names to go by.)
"You have a place?" he perked up. He hoped they didn't mean the store they'd just been released from. But the Child needed to be fed, and he needed to get out of the rain (And put the Beast down somewhere, preferably soft and flat.), and if the price was somehow coaxing the furry lump in his arms to sit still for a candle-light dinner then by golly he would prop them up and cook the meal himself. "Yes! Yes, if you could lead us there, that would be wonderful."
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