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Post by spartan general king umber. on Jun 12, 2010 22:30:34 GMT -6
A MOUTH TO MOUTH ON THE CHALKBOARD
“I love this town, Reggie. I really love this dirty town.”
I've laid down on my belly on the edge of the peak with my breakfast between my massive paws. It's so hard to find breakfast around here nowadays, and I'm set on reaping the benefits of Lady Luck's favor.
Nobody ever taught me not to play with my food.
Claws work quite well as a little prong collar you know – if a certain squirrel (I've named him Reggie) squirms too hard, just... choke him a little.
I do like it when he squirms though.
His beady little black eyes stare up at me, quaking in their sockets so fast they ripple like water struck with a stone. My brows furrow sympathetically. “Do you know what fear tastes like, Reggie?” Bah, his eyes just got a little buggier. They're going to pop out his bloody head before I can suck them out; wouldn't that be a shame. My matter-of-fact tone was supposed to be reassuring. Ah well. “I know what fear tastes like. Fear tastes like...” I lick my chops and glance to my side in thought; thick frothy saliva drips in a gleaming glorious tendril from one corner of my mouth. “Blood and piss.” I look back at Reggie and nod to him. “Blood and piss – AH, Reggie, see you're squirming too much again...” A quick tightening of his little claw collar works splendidly to subdue him. He offers a little hack as his windpipe is significantly narrowed. “You know I like the feeling of your little muscles straining for life against my paw pads, heaving and groaning under the pressure of your imminent failure and doom; but I can't let you get away now can I.” I lift his chin with a claw and tut disapprovingly. He's not shaking now; he's just... vibrating. I give him my most amused grin and laugh shortly. “I won't even have to kill you, will I. You'll just have yourself a little heart attack and be done with it.”
I wonder what Reggie has to live for. Does he have a wife, a little squirrel-broad waiting at home in a little pink-spotted apron? Maybe she's wearing that little red number he likes underneath it... or maybe she's wearing nothing at all underneath it... 'oops, sorry Reggie dear, I've dropped your hazelnut under the table, let me pick that up for you...' She's planning on having two nuts and a cucumber for dinner I can almost guarantee... I give an abrupt snort. Reggie's ears blow backward. “Sorry to deprive you, Reggie old boy. Squirrels gotta breed – wolves gotta eat.” My muzzle approaches his head and holding a squirrel becomes a rodeo; I flick him in the face and snarl. “Remember when I told you, Reggie, what fear tastes like? Do you remember?” I close my eyes press my nose to his vibrating head.
Inhale.
My tongue slowly drags over his little snout.
“Fear tastes like blood and piss.” I tighten my grip. “Fear tastes like you.”
The snap of severed squirrel neck and the sweet-and-sour taste of squirrel brains simply overload the senses.
WRITTEN IN FINGERNAIL DISTASTE
[/blockquote][/blockquote][/size]
an UMBER production
starring HYDE
est. 526 words
original score by THE MARS VOLTA
inspired by james bond marathon on g4
I love him  [/size] |
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Post by A S A R on Jun 13, 2010 15:39:46 GMT -6
LETS GET AWAY JUST FOR ONE DAY !
There was no entertainment for the blind. No stars to watch at night, no sunsets or sunrises. For most there was nothing more to look forward to than darkness, day in day out. Even on holidays like Christmas or Thanksgiving. The deformity didn’t take tea breaks. Of course the other senses were ten times sharper than the average sense. Some blind could even hear things from hundreds of miles away. Others could almost feel the world around them or see with their feet.
And then there was Death Eater.
An array of colors, shades of purple, yellow, green, red and other mixed colors all an explosion in her head. She was never technically blind, she could see…with her nose. Every single entity on the planet had a signature color; nothing had the same shade, the closer to the end of one’s life, the duller their color.
Both a curse and a blessing.
She had no idea if it was day or night, the snakes weren’t particularly helpful when it came to that. Laying down in the grass she rolled over and stretched. To a wolf like her, there really was nothing for her to do. Other than chit chat with the snakes and track random creatures just because she could. Quickly growing bored of enjoying the feel of the grass against her white fur she stood up and licked her lips realizing she was hungry. Inhaling deeply the colors flooded into her mind. It was like being at an all you can eat Chinese food buffet, so many choices, so little time. Settling on the closest and dullest one she set out.
The trail was a fading vermillion.
It was always nice to give the living another chance to breed, feed, feel fear, and happiness. Besides, a dying color generally guaranteed less of a fight and an easier meal. Dodging a tree she picked up the pace. Before she made it, the color faded away completely. Snarling in frustration she set her sights (haha) on the second closest color, a teal trail.
Who knows, maybe there’d be a pot of gold at the end of the rainbow.
By the time she found the end she realized that there was no reward at the end of this journey. Sitting down a few feet away from the feeding wolf she swallowed as the stench of a fresh kill hit her nose, the red filling her mind, disappointment was thick in her voice,
I was really hoping to find food at the end of this trail. How unfortunate.
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Post by spartan general king umber. on Jun 16, 2010 12:21:40 GMT -6
IT'S MAN DEVOURING MAN MY DEAR
My eyes widen and my pupils dilate like a camera preparing for a candid.
Slobber pools in my lower jaw, and the taste of squirrel is quickly replaced with... My brows furrow.
Coffee. Someone tastes like raw coffee.
I roll it around on the top of my tongue as a circus elephant rolls a ball on its trunk; I slap it to the roof of my mouth and let it ruminate down into my throat, my nasal cavity, my lungs, my bloodstream... It seems I have a girlie come to call. A white (it's not bitter enough, not rancid enough; all blacks have some unpleasantry about their taste that she's not got). My ears flick back and I glance over my shoulder as the taste is paired with a voice. “Sorry darling.” I eye her over and grin subtly as I turn over with my paw what's left of dear dear Reggie (a rump and a tail, respectively) into her line of vision. “Bank's closed.”
I narrow my eyes and lick my chops as the saliva settles. 'Line of vision'... I bring myself to my paws and turn to look at her face again. Her eyes are white and cloudy with cataracts. “You must have some sense of smell, eyes like that.” I forget to use my eyes sometimes, I'm so well-acquainted with my mouth. The gleaming blue on her leg confirms her alliance; my insides grind together pushing me towards hostility – even so, my brain always wins. Might as well be cordial to the bird. Flies are easier caught with honey than vinegar (even if it hasn't quite been established what to do with the fly once it's caught). This could become very interesting very fast. I play with everything, you know. My food. My trash. My friends. My enemies. And girls. Especially girls.
I glance down at Reggie's corpse. “If you really want my garbage, it's yours. It is garbage, after all.” If she takes my offer she'll soon find that I'm not lying when I call it garbage. I've already sucked out all the innards that make the bottom half worthwhile.
I look back at her face.
“Hyde. If you care.”
AND WHO ARE WE TO DENY IT HERE
[/blockquote][/blockquote][/size]
an UMBER production
starring HYDE
est. 370 words
original score by STEPHEN SONDHEIM
inspired by sweeney todd (the stage version is the best dammet)
kinda crappy but [waves hand]
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Post by A S A R on Jun 16, 2010 13:29:02 GMT -6
LETS GET AWAY JUST FOR ONE DAY !
The wolf before her carried a suspended air of hostility- the kind that only a Black could wear. Wrinkling her nose she was ready to walk away from a potential fight and call it a day before he responded to her. Mildly interested she perked her ears forward and uninterestedly drew patterns in the dirt with her claws. She yawned and smirked when he told her the bank was closed. Perhaps he did not see that she was no longer interested.
Perhaps she was not the blind one.
He commented on her sense of smell, she laughed sorely, as if he had just hit a soft spot (though he really didn’t, she was proud of her power),
Well, how else would I survive? The world isn’t so nice to the blind. Did you know that your aura is teal?
She asked her question in a more matter of fact tone, rather than giving him life-saving information; she did not quite care whether or not he knew the color she saw him in, she just thought it’d be a nice new thing for him to learn about himself. Sniffing the air softly, the fading colors were re-newed and she got a better look at the wolf. He was rather large with thick hair. And that was as much as she got, as far as color or anything else went she did not know and assumed he was teal.
She didn’t know that teal was not a real ‘pelt’ color.
Garbage. She wrinkled her nose and bared her teeth, the bits of garbage had his color all over it,
Gross, no thank you. You’ve already wallowed on it enough, now it smells like you.
She eyed the chunks of squirrel, but decided that it would not be best to accept food from a Black aligned wolf until she knew just who she was dealing with. While she was mostly partial to the two alliances, she was still a born and bred White, he could have easily poisoned it with poison saliva or something and saw her as just another body.
What she did not expect from the male was a name.
D.E. figured he would just skirt around the subject if she asked, the past few Blacks she had come across did that. Blinking a silent greeting (or maybe it was because her useless eyes were dry) she breathed in again and said,
Death Eater. But you don’t have to call me by my full name if it seems weird to call a White Alligned wolf by such a sinister name. I’ll answer to D.E., besides. That name’s shorter to say.
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