FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

Steam rose from his cup; a brown cup stylized with a mural-esque image of animals you could find on a savannah. Lions, tigers, but no bears, alas. The top was removed, and a beige layer of foam sat on the top.

He'd seen videos and what not of artists creating images with just that foam and that thought seemed silly to him, as he took another sip. What good was art if it was erased with a little sip?

Sam had these little thoughts pretty often. They'd sneak in during moments when he wasn't immediately preoccupied. Like those twenty seconds you have in the elevator while you near your floor, or that brief, vaguely awkward pause that happens while you wait for your cashier to return your change.

These little voids were perfect for thoughts; prolific little pockets that even littler ideas could bloom inside.

And just like that, they were gone. Transient little things. Another sip of his coffee; a blonde flat white. He'd recently tried it in his first week on campus. He was a little embarrassed when he first walked up to the counter, so many extravagant-sounds drinks and pastries and tiny, decadently-named morsels of food.

He actually jumped a little when the woman behind the counter greeted him. He stumbled briefly, before just picking one of the tamer-sounding beverages off the menu.

It worked out well, he thought. Sip. Sip.

His surroundings had begun to grow on him. Before he'd moved to the campus, he'd scoffed at anyone who liked Starbucks. “It's not even real coffee. A buttermilk rainbow Frappuccino? What?" He'd think, but between the soft music and the steady stream of strangers coming and going, the place was becoming one of his more well-traveled spots on the college grounds.

Sam was 23. Not exactly one of the fresh-from-high school whelps, wide-eyed and mystified by the grandeur of an American campus. Not quite the experienced, tired-of-these-kids mood the older students felt; parents, formerly successful individuals who had some bad luck, or matured adults looking to reinvent themselves.

He was stuck in some grey middle, as he often found himself. He gave too many shits to fit in with the younger lot and he didn't quite give enough shits to settle himself with the older crowd. Thus, he was stuck.

Sip. The cup felt light at this point. Two sips left, maybe three if they were small. That was fine, though, he was almost done with his notes.

Sam Northstill. He'd always thought his name was kind of boring. It'd be a name some moonshiners would refer to their booze-maker if it just happened to be the opposite of south. Aw, shit. They found our northstill? Gawd damnit".

Not that Sam found much about himself impressive or interesting. He had pretty average looks; he wasn't ugly by any means, but he wasn't catching free drinks at the club any time soon. A wood mouse, his fur was a creamy beige, with splats and smudges of white here and there. He had a pair of darker blue eyes that tended to dart to and fro a little shadily. All in all, just an unassuming, average looking mouse.

He wasn't a genius, either. He was a little funny, but by all and all, Sam was utterly average. At least by his own standards, which bordered on absurdly critical.

A final sip, and a little ahh that anyone who ever finished a coffee had to let out. A universal gesture, he was sure. With one last scribble, he finished the last of his terms. Another night of terms and definitions and hypotheticals and ponderings in one long, seemingly unending journey of academics that he'd only begun to experience.

Oh, well. He had tonight, at least. Tossing his notebooks and textbook, Intro to Statistics, into his backpack, the young mouse set off towards the door. Sliding himself between a pair of wolves chatting by the door with a quiet apology, he soon found himself outside.

The sky was dimming, the leaves starting to brown, and a certain crispness found itself developing in the air; fall was arriving. He loved the season. It wasn't the unforgivingly cold, bitter bite that winter brought with it, but it had just enough chill for a jacket and sweatpants to be comfortable.

So, clad in his favorite pair of grey joggers and a hoodie he bought at the campus “Spirit" store, he began the walk back to his dorm. It was a nice walk, the trees bearing their warm-colored leaves almost haphazardly, sort of a “Alright, get ready. I'm gonna drop all of these in a bit. Just you wait".

It was a Thursday night, well into the second week of the Fall semester. As the day drew closer to the weekends, students had already begun to occupy the college grounds, as if getting ready for the weekend. A dry run of the fun they'd spontaneously plan throughout the week, before springing the invites on each other.

“Yeah, of course Stacey and I are coming to your weekend party. Who are you, again? Hell yeah!"

Not that anyone here minded, of course. No one was going to need much persuading to head to one of the many house, frat, and sorority party that the campus was going to be hosting. College students loved their festivities.

Not that anyone invited me.

He thought a little bitterly, entering through his dorm hall building, the interior of the dorm center warm and a little dimly-lit. Indeed, he didn't have any plans this weekend. Not that he wasn't invited. He had a few friends on campus that'd dropped open offers on him. He wasn't a complete pariah; just a little shy. Everyone had their awkward moments, right?

He seemed to have a lot of them, though. Finally arriving on the fourth – and final – floor, the mouse walked towards his door with a little huff, his legs feeling just a little sore.

Every day is leg day on the fourth floor.

Not that he couldn't use the exercises. No one was kidding about the “Freshman Fifteen", he thought with a note of embarrassment. His cargo shorts and jeans and sweatpants were starting to get a little harder to put on; he'd really have to tighten his diet and start working out.

Finding his door and inserting his keys, the beige rodent twisted the handle and pushed himself into his room.

He saw his roommate Chauz where he normally remained, sprawled out on his bed, with a laptop and his headphones, enraptured in whatever game of football or hockey or whatever the feline was into. He was nice, enough. A little overzealous about the way the room should be kept, but Sam had had much more difficult roommates in the past.

“Sup".

“Sup".

Sam mirrored the greeting back. A slight upward nod marking the end of their little bro-ritual; a monosyllabic greeting and a jerk of the head was universal among guys.

Depositing his backpack on his bed and quickly shuffling himself out of his clothes, the fawn-dyed mouse soon found himself in his favorite state; in a pair of sweatshorts and a relaxed tee, with his laptop and a pair of headphones on his ears.

Time passed pretty swiftly this way. Often, he'd look down and find that an hour or two had smoothly swam by, sneaky and unnoticed. Like a sea otter who paid his bills by moonlighting as a footpad.

Or something. Analogies are hard.

He thought. He actually considered himself pretty good with words. In his head, anyway. He'd have little clever thoughts and puns that'd brew themselves throughout the day. When they tried to find their way out, though, his mouth would just develop this disconnect from his brain and all his funny lines and witticisms would tumble to the ground, broken.

Just another item he checked to the list of things he didn't like about himself. Before he could go any further with that line of chewing on his self-esteem, his stomach growled. Not a little growl, either. Looking back, he realized lunch consisted of a bag of starbursts he'd bought from a vending machine.

Chauz would surely have thrown a little look his way, if not for the song loudly playing through his headphones, even to Sam on the other side of the room.

The striped feline just continued to lounge however, as Sam pulled himself up and threw his necessities into his pockets. Prepared for the trip back to the food court, he soon found himself – slightly out of breath – at the bottom of the stairs and heading back out into the noticeably chillier air.

The air softly grazed his fur, the chill noticeable but not uncomfortable. On nights like these, he'd wish he was back home, where there'd be a bonfire somewhere. There'd be a cooler full of beer, some logs to sit on, and lots of drunk, happy smiles.

No such luck, though. This place wasn't too bad; he was just being dramatic. He'd had a few chances to spend the night at a party or two, and he even hit the local bar scene. That last night had been the cause for a pretty big headache, though.

“Hey, you wanna get out of here?"

Green eyes and a toothy smile. The young mouse shook his head, trying to clear that thought away. The hangover had faded over a week ago, but he still got a little ache behind his eyes when he remembered that night.

Sam pushed that regret aside, however, as he stepped into the food court. Shame was hard to feel when you were hungry and there was a $2.99 deal on a 5-chicken platter from KFC. Elation was the correct emotion there.

About ten minutes passed and Sam found himself at a table, munching on a biscuit while he parceled out his sides and chicken. Indeed, he found himself feeling better with a full stomach. Still, though. That night of lukewarm beer and poor decisions fueled by said beer was still daunting him. Chewing thoroughly over a bit of chicken skin, he remembered back.

He'd decided he'd try his luck and go to a local bar scene with some friends-of-a-friend from his class. They were a decent lot, and the beer wasn't terrible. Even terrible company could become a decent night if you threw enough beer at it.

He'd gotten pretty drunk, and the moment he started finding the bartender – a mid-60's something porcupine – pretty attractive, he'd decided he had enough. So, with a nice tip deposited slightly sloppily on the counter, the mouse pushed himself off towards the exit.

He waved merrily to the crowd he came in with, before turning towards the door and heading out.

The outside of the bar was just as lively. A bohemian girl sat on a nearby wall, strumming a uke while singing some indie-sounding songs hipsters would go crazy for. Sam couldn't understand what she was saying, but it still sounded nice. Nearby, others were congregating and enjoying themselves.

Weekends were when college really happened. Everyone shed the weight that the week held, no longer constrained by deadlines and plans and requirements, even if only for a little bit. This was the time for drunken conversations in the small hours about life and love and lemons.

Beer makes everything so much simpler.

He thought, utterly convinced. Strolling towards the street, the young mouse glanced both ways. A little dazed, the mouse realized he wasn't sure how to get back to the dorm. His newly acquired friends were from a separate dorm, and he'd met them at their dorm.

Well, shit.

He considered calling one of his classmates. He had his phone; he could feel it pressing against him in his pocket. He didn't want to be a bother, though. He'd only known them for a couple of weeks, and he hated feeling like a bother.

I might be able to find some h-

“Hey, you good?".

A baritone voice spoke. Looking up, Sam found himself eye level with a blue T-shirt depicting four foxes, with the word “sake" below them. He squinted, his drunken mind working a little too hard to work out the pun, and Sam laughed out loud when he finally made the connection.

“I like your shirt.".

The words rolled off his tongue smoothly, his normally malfunctional, defective mouth and brain seemingly deciding to get their shit together, but only for a little while. He definitely considered himself a little more charming when he had some brews.

Looking up a little from the punny shirt, Sam realized a torso was attached to the clothing. A whole person, actually!

“Heh, thanks. You, uh, lost, or...?".

Sam giggled for some reason he couldn't think of. The stranger in front of him was a few inches taller than him, probably 6'2"-ish. Definitely male, the voice had given away, and a closer inspection confirmed it.

A pretty handsome male.

He thought to himself. Then he was a little confused about where that thought had come from. Still, though, the anthro in front of him was definitely on the better-looking side of things. He was a wolf, Sam thought, from the tail and the fur patterns. Streaks of charcoal and light grey clashed with the blue of his T-shirt and his eyes were a nice green color. Not dark like a leaf, more of a glinty emerald.

He had a wide smile, Sam noticed, as the ashy wolf presented a toothy grin towards the young mouse. A flush visible even under his dark fur and a general nonchalance gave away that the canine was rather inebriated himself. He had a friendly demeanor, and Sam found himself feeling comfortable.

“I'm, well, yeah. I'm a little lost".

Sam spoke a little sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck with a paw. Normally, he'd be too shy or anxious, but, fuck it. This cool dude was trying to help him.

“Oh, no worries. I was got lost plenty of times my first couple weeks, too".

Sam nodded, convinced. This place was a little hard to navigate, even more so with beer in your system.

“Yeah. I'm only on my third week, and this place still feels like a maze".

The wolf nodded affirmatively. He stuck out a paw. He had a bracelet with some band that Sam hadn't heard of on it, along with some kind of anchor or hook on a leather string. Sam thought it looked cool as he reached forward.

“I'm Kent".

“Sam".

His hand was warm and the pads on his paws a little coarse, but not uncomfortably so. As far as pawshakes went, Sam was pretty impressed. 7/10.

The two sat there for a second, and a little tendril of awkwardness crept back into Sam's thoughts. The beer had staunched most of his insidious little thoughts and fears, but he still felt a little out of place as a silence hovered between the two of them. Thankfully, the silvery fellow spoke up first.

“Uh, well. Do you know what dorm you live in?".

Sam swallowed a small hiccup he felt coming on. He always got the hiccups when he drank beer, and they always came when he was trying to talk. Never when he was sitting quietly at the bar, perusing the bowl of nuts on the counter. Damn those beer hiccups.

“Oh, O'Vaenen hall".

The wolf chuckled, seemingly surprised. Sam leaned in a little, before the wolf seemed to come to his senses.

“Sorry, it's just, we're from the same hall. Small campus, huh?".

Sam chuckled back, equally surprised at the little coincidence. He was thankful, though. As far as encounters with strangers, this had been the best thus far.

“Well, how do I get ba-“.

“Y'know, I have a ca-“.

The two spoke at once, both stifled an apologetic little laugh, and then paused. A few seconds passed as they waited for the other to speak, before they continued.

“Just, do you know th-“.

“I actually just cal-“.

Sam looked at Kent, who glanced right back at him with those envy-green eyes. His mouth sat a little pursed, almost expectantly, before he started laughing in that drunk, belly-deep kind of laughter only those imbibing in adult beverages could experience.

About a tenth of a second passed before Sam found himself laughing along with the canine. The two shared their laughter, it echoing off into the night as a few passersby gave them a cursory glance, then looked away.

The wolf wiped away a tear forming at the corner of his eye as he spoke.

“Okay, okay. I'm going first. I, uh, actually have a cab if you wanna share it.".

Normally, the sandy mouse would have been a little apprehensive about an offer. Still warmed by several beers and drunk off the laughter of a stranger-turned-friend, though, he only waited three seconds before responding.

“Y-Yeah. That'd be great. Thanks, man".

The wolf smiled wide, and Sam only just noticed his canines. They looked sharp, and Sam's mind flicked back to a German Shepherd he had as a friend back in high school. He'd gone to a steakhouse with their family following a big soccer match, and he'd felt a little meek eating his filet as the group of dogs tore into their meals.

This wolf had a nice smile, though. There wasn't any menace to that smile. Just a lot of pearly-whites and a goofy grin.

“Great. Let's head back inside, though. It'll be warmer in there while we wait".

Sam felt a paw clap the back of his back, and he lurched a little. He felt like he'd been standing in place for a year, and his footpaws were a little tingly. The needles faded as he walked, though, and soon he found himself back at the entrance of the bar.

“Go ahead".

Kent said to him, opening the door and ushering him inside. Sam only just realized he'd had his paw on his back the whole time. His paw felt warm through his shirt and Sam flushed a little, suddenly a little chilled.

Thankfully, the air inside the bar was warmer. Glancing around, the mouse didn't see his friends anywhere. They'd probably crawled to another bar, or headed to a different section, or they might've just ditched him where he was.

He was a little too sloshed to be concerned, though, and he soon found himself on the same barstool he'd been prior. The bar was still pretty busy, and the matronly porcupine from earlier was on in him in just a minute or so for his order.

“I'll have a draft of Heineken, and then whatever he's getting".

Kent said smoothly, paw depositing a $20 on the counter. Sam sneered a little at the wolf before spouting his drink request to the quilled bartender.

“Draft of Blue Moon, please".

Feeling a knee brush his own, Sam looked to his right to see Kent in the stool next to him. The wolf looked comfortable, like he did this often. Sam was sure he knew his way around a bar, and he was definitely a little charming.

Easy, Sam. He's just buying you a beer and sharing a cab back to the dorm.

A cynical little thought bubbled up from Sam's mind. He shook his head softly and looked back towards the wolf, a quizzical little smile formed on his lips.

“I, uh, Heineken, huh? Gross, weed beer".

Sam concluded the jab by blowing a raspberry. The wolf laughed softly, and Sam had a little burst of warmth in his chest. It felt good to be funny, he felt. It was such a simple joy to bring some to another person.

“Hey, it's not too bad. Acquired taste, sure, but not bad".

Kent spoke neutrally, and Sam found himself nodding in agreement. By then, he had a full glass of beer in front of him, a beautiful gold color with a little tinge of orange. Sam's mouth watered.

The wolf himself raised his glass, ushering for a cheer, and Sam clinked his own with Kent's. Taking a deep drink, Sam tasted that familiar beer taste. A little note of orange snuck in the back and planted itself softly on his tongue, and Sam immediately felt a little more relaxed.

Looking over to Kent, he laughed a little as he saw the wolf lower an empty glass back to the counter, the change from his $20 already on the counter for a refill. Kent noticed his gaze and grinned towards him, a little lopsided.

“Hey, I like what I like".

The statement was innocent enough, but Sam flushed a little, and not from the cold. Taking another deep swig of his beer, he settled back onto the conversation of beer with Kent. He was very glad the wolf had taste for something other than Heineken and the two chatted over their favorite brews and IPA's and disliked craft beers.

Sam soon found another full beer in his paw, and the conversation flowed with the drinks. He and Kent talked some more, going back and forth from what Sam was doing there – just getting his basics while he figured out what he wanted to do – to what Kent's major was. The wolf proudly announced he was there for a business degree.

Sam agreed he could see it. From there, several more beers were shared, and even a shot of some foreign-named liqueur that Kent promised tasted great with Beer. Sam wasn't very convinced.

Some hour or so later, Sam found himself in a taxi with Kent. A bored, late-30's-something otter sat in the front. He briefly looked back to get their destination and spared them from his attention for the rest of the drive.

The two continued talking. Sam discovered Kent shared his affinity for terrible jokes, and after a certain pun involving a blind man and a nudist beach, the two males were belly-laughing in the back of the cab. The driver was unperturbed; he'd been at the college for years, Sam assumed. He's seen it all.

The rest of the conversation was pleasant, and it seemed to come to an end too quickly. Pretty soon, Kent was ushering Sam out of the car, insisting that he pay, but Sam beat him to it. The young mouse handed the driver a bundle of cash that he hoped was close to what they owed. When the driver didn't step out and start screaming, however, Sam relaxed.

Stumbling a little, Sam soon found a paw on his hip. It was warm, just like the one on his back earlier at the bar. He found himself blushing, always a little sensitive of when he started getting sloppy.

“S-Sorry. I didn't realize I had so much".

Kent shook off his concern with a wave of his other paw, his right placed softly around the mouse's back. Sam felt steady, and he leaned a little into the larger male next to him. Kent smelled like some kind of wood. His brother back home would have known; Zachary was always out in the woods with his dad, so he'd rattle off that it was a cedar or a teak or what have you.

Either way, he liked it. The walk to the dorm was easier with the wolf supporting him, and the through the dorm interior and the stairs was smooth.

“I'm on the third floor, but I didn't catch your room".

Kent felt a hiccup roll through his throat. It tasted a little like almonds.

“The fourth".

The wolf nodded and continued the assisted journey of getting Sam up the stairs. It seemed he was in much better control of his faculties than Sam was, and the mouse felt himself flustered again.

About thirty seconds later, the two found themselves at Sam's room on the fourth floor. The wolf gently leaned him against the wall, seemingly a little hesitant to let the mouse be. Sam slouched against the wall and the wolf relaxed a little, still unconvinced.

A few seconds of silence passed before Sam felt the need to look up. For the first time, Kent looked a little uncertain. A little unsure. It didn't look familiar on the wolf. When he spoke, though, he sounded confident.

“Hey, so, it was really good to meet you, Sam".

The wolf affirmed the declaration with a gentle punch on his arm. Gentle for the wolf perhaps, but Sam felt himself buckle a little, which prompted the wolf to reach out and steady him once more. Sam thought he looked nice when he was worried. His charcoaled ears would perk up a little, pert and fluffy. He had a sudden desire to touch them.

The mouse realized he was a little lost in thought and pulled himself back to the present.

“..so if you just need that, it'd be fine. No worries".

The wolf smiled gently. Sam found himself smiling back and the two shared a friendly little moment before the wolf patted him again on the shoulder, a little more softly this time, and started towards the staircase.

Do it, you idiot.

Sam reached out and felt the wolf by his forearm. Kent glanced back with a curious tilt of his head, and Sam – fueled with drunken courage – found his lips pressed a little sloppily against the wolf's own.

The first thought Sam had was of how much he fucking hated Heineken. He could taste the beer on the wolf's lips, and Kent returned the motion after a moment of indecision. Sam found a set of arms wrap themselves around his back, and he leaned into the broad chest of the male he was enjoying.

Coming up for air, Sam broke off. The two leaned back, Kent's eyes a little lidded and Sam breathing a little heavier. He found himself wondering how sharp Kent's teeth were. A little flush of warmth formed in his chest, and Kent's voice was a little husky when he spoke.

“My roommate's out of town for the weekend".

Sam didn't need him to say it twice.

Back to the present, Sam polished off the rest of his chicken. He licked the grease from his fingers before depositing everything into a wastebin near the entrance.

He felt much better, even after going over everything that had happened the previous weekend. Brushing himself off and slinging his backpack over his shoulders, the mouse set off towards the entrance.

I'll have to come back here again. This food was gr-

“Hey, Sam".

A voice called to him from his left. It was familiar, and Sam suddenly tasted almonds and oranges. That night crept back into his thoughts, and he turned to whoever called him. Smoky fur and a pair of bright green eyes found themselves in his vision.

His stomach lurched.