FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

>It was time to show your new housemate the best room in the house.

>The garage!

>You opened the door and waved her through.

>She smiled and nodded, before you followed her into your shop.

>It was rare that you ever got to properly enjoy the wonders held in this room.

>You were too busy keeping your house from being a biohazard most of the time.

>On the front wall lied your tool hangar, and workbench. There were a couple small bits and bobs lying around on it, but nothing of too much importance.

>Julie rubbed her hands together at the soot covered and oily car parts, clearly not wanting anything to do with them.

>Or maybe she wanted them clean.

>On the far side wall were your shelves.

>Not shelves of anything in particular, just whatever crap you weren't using at the moment that didn't have it's own place.

>Camping gear, spare quilts (thank you grandma), generator, old pots and pans, fishing gear.

>Julie didn't seem very excited about that, either.

>But as for the middle of the room, well.

>It was the room that housed your most beloved possesion.

>A mechanical beast so powerful it had to be run on 105 octane dragons blood.

>A vehicle that burned so much rubber it was it's own emissions scandal.

>"Cute car."

>What?

>"What?"

>"The family wagon. I like it."

>For a moment, you can do nothing but blink at the comment.

>Your rat rod just got called cute by a 5 foot tall cat robot.

>Maybe a bit shorter actually...

>What is the world coming to?

>"I prefer the term 'sinister.'"

>"Sinister? It's just painted red. Mostly."

>Okay, maybe your parent's old Model A wasn't a drag strip killer yet, but it wasn't cute. Come on.

>You feel a strong urge to protect your masculinity, and the car's wickedness.

>"Cute huh? I'll show you cute."

>You open the passenger door, Julie flashed green at the sparse and dusty interior.

>The cartoonish widening of her eyes almost made you burst out in laughter right then and there.

>"What, too gross for you?"

>"I-It's a little dusty."

>You chuckle, and walk around the hood.

>“Hop in." you say, gesturing to the passenger door.

>"W-what? Are you sure?" She asks.

>"Yep!" you grunt as you drag yourself into the low drivers seat.

>Even as you slide the key into the ignition, she just looks into the cab in confusion.

>Her eyes flash orange when the throaty growl of a high compression V8 fills the room.

>You didn't know they could even look that big, or that her ears could flatten themselves to her head like that.

>She slinks back to the hallway door, jumping with every rev as you keep the cold engine from stalling.

>The revs become shorter and lighter as the you let the choke out, and before long the car's idling all by itself.

>Now you can work on convincing the terrified kitty to take a ride.

>"C'mon, she don't bite!" You call out over the still very loud engine.

>"I think she's sinister now Anon! I think I'll stay here while you go drive that thing!" She chirps nervously, hiding her body halfway behind the door.

>You chuckle again, shaking your head at the display.

>The smell of unburnt gas and fumes starts to fill the garage as you wave her in. Time to open the door before you start getting too high.

>Her eye screens flick over to the garage door as it rolls itself open, the bright morning sun streaking from the exhaust fumes as it slowly creeps into the garage.

>"How about a tour of the town, huh?" You shout, pointing a thumb over your shoulder at the bright light of the outside world.

>She carefully plods over to the still open passenger door, looking out the garage door every couple steps, before returning her full attention to the car.

>Her footfalls are light and smooth, like she's trying not to set off the growling beast.

>Cute car my ass.

>"W-why don't we just take your other car? I'll have just as much fun!" She yells into the cab, smiling nervously, tiny hands gripping the passenger doorframe for dear life.

>"No you won't!" You say, tapping the gas.

>Julie's wide orange displays search your eyes for a moment, before she pops the door.

>You pat the bucket seat, the thick cloud of dust inviting her causing Julie to go green again.

>She materializes a feather duster, and quickly brushes out the cloth seat.

>you lean as far back into your door as you can, the tan smokescreen making your sinuses tingle without even being in the thick of it.

>She slips into the passenger seat, eye screens nervously flitting around as you strap her in.

>Before you can sit back into your own seat, she grabs the arm that pressed the buckle together.

>"If I get scared, you'll stop for me right?" She says with an adorably pitiful expression.

>You ignore it fine, you've got nieces and nephews that try pulling that stuff every time you see them.

>"You won't want to do that, trust me." You say, grunting as you tug the last strap tight before flopping back into your own seat.

>"Please?"

>You look back at the very prim and proper looking cat, about to tell her to stiffen that upper lip.

>She looked even more small and adorable with the large, rugged harness holding her into the bucket seat. Would've made you grin if not for the new look she was throwing at you.

>You didn't imagine those scanline eyes could pull off a perfect kicked puppy look, but there it is.

>Big, blue screens begging you to do what she says.

>You feel your confidence crumbling. Those kids have nothing on this damned catgirl.

>"Fine, fine! Jeez, you're gonna kill me with that look."

>Her eyes turn back to yellow, and she flashes a tiny fanged smile at a job well done.

>Damn. You'd known her for what, a day and a half..? And she could already pull your heartstrings like that?

>You would say you were getting weak in old age, but you weren't even that old yet.

>Either way, the smug look is wiped off when you let the clutch out and start backing out into the neighborhood.

>The car lurches with every revolution of the engine, fussy at low RPM's.

>You tap the hard bakelite dash playfully.

>Don't worry girl, we'll go plenty fast soon enough.

>Julie's hair shakes in time with the grumble of the engine, her bangs slowly jostling to cover her bright orange eyes.

>You cant help but chuckle every time you twist your head to see your surroundings, Julie trying to readjust her hair every time it floats onto her face.

>The tiniest embarrassed smirk lights up alongside her cheeks.

>You shift into gear and smoothly accelerate out of your neighborhood.

+------------+

>You've managed to contain yourself just enough to keep Julie from flinging herself out the window.

>But only just enough.

>You let a tiny bit more throttle out than you meant to crossing over the creek running through your neighborhood, and she practically jumped through her seatbelt when the tires chirped.

>Didn't immediately tell you to stop so she could get out and walk home, so that's already a good sign.

>Probably less that she's not terrified of the car after this little bit of driving, but just too interested in marveling at the landscape.

>Meadow Falls is a beautiful town after all, it sprung up with the logging industry years ago. It was already a beautiful town when you were born and there were only three thousand people living here.

>Your classmates and you were all pretty much destined to work in that mill until you hit sophomore year and RCA built one of it's most important industrial battery plants up by the old quarry.

>A slick haired man had strolled right into your classroom Junior year and offered anyone who'd raised their hand five bills and a new after school activity.

>Your homeroom teacher almost ripped her hair out at the intrusion, and practically beat him to death with a broom.

>Needless to say, you went to high school with almost a quarter of that factory.

>Everyone else was a bunch of out of town transplants, but it had a strong spirit, and it's nearly two thousand new residents changed to fit the town, not the other way around.

>Julie poked her head out the window to gawk at one of the ornate flowerbeds in front of a comparably quaint house.

>Vibrant blues, reds, greens, and every other natural color in between

>"You like those? Mrs. Abelson only does native plants in her garden."

>She flicked an ear in your direction, but otherwise kept her gaze glued to the flowers.

>"They're pretty." She sighed, propping her head on hands folded over the doorframe.

“They only ever had daisies and tulips back where I came from."

>"Just the two? Sounds like it could get stale after a while." You say.

>"A- a little." She admitted quietly, almost to quiet to hear over the idling engine. “They're nice, but nothing like having so many different colors."

>A calm silence falls over the car.

>Well, as close to silence as there can be with an idling engine two feet from your knees.

>Her slow breaths almost seemed wistful, like she saw an old friend in Abelson's flowerbed.

>“You see those thin red ones over there?"

>"Yeah?" Her eyes quickly snap from light blue to yellow when she turns around.

>Hm.

>"Those are Indian Paintbrushes. They used to put those in salad back before the settlers came here."

>"They're so pretty, I wouldn't want to eat them."

>"Me neither. I've always thought about putting some in but never got around to it."

>Julie instantly flipped around in her seat and got her face just a bit close for comfort.

>"I can do it!"

>Leaning back in your seat a little, you reply.

>"I'll have to figure out a way to introduce you sometime, there's nothing the towns crazy grandma would love more than talking flowers with a cat…" You stroke your chin. “She might already do that, actually."

>She giggled, and you let the clutch back out to pull onto main.

>Her bangs were once again thrown in every direction, now by the wind.

>'Course, with such a tight grip on the seat there was nothing she could do but sit and stare wide eyed at the road through the hairstorm.

>You were only going five over.

>In a twenty five.

>"Cmon Julie, ease up!" You lightly chide the seized robot. “You're missing out on the nicest part of town."

>She just barely moves her head in your direction, still trying to stare a hole in the road.

>The whole strip is nice and calm. Perfect time to get Julie used to the small town atmosphere without too much trouble.

>You sigh, lightly pumping the brakes to pull over.

>Her trance abruptly ends when the car rocks to a still.

>"Alright, let's hop out and walk."

>"Huh-wha..?"

>"You heard me, lets go for a stroll." You say, jamming your thumb into the button to pop apart your harness.

>Her screens scan your eyes as you twist your body to face her.

>"B-but won't people ask questions?" She says, idly fiddling with a shoulder strap while you try to undo the button on her harness.

>"First of all, I've never much been one to care what most people-" You grunt. “-think of me." You say, trying different angles to get the now very seized button to press free.

>The button finally clicks off and you help Julie throw the straps over.

>She looks down in disgust at the dusty strap marks covering her uniform

>"Plus, anybody worth a damn is in church right now."

>She shoots you a sharp, surprised look as you get out of the car and walk to the sidewalk.

>She steps her own way out of the car, shoes clicking on the sidewalk.

>You didn't even notice she was wearing shoes before.

>They're neat though, mint colored bow flats to match the stylish shirt-dress.

>Whoever did the clothes for these machines definitely deserved some kind of award.

>"This might be a bit strange to say, but I really like your outfit."

>She looks at you even more strangely.

>You offer her your arm, but she just shakes her head with a small, and walks ahead.

>"What? Was it something I said?"

>"Maybe." She says, still walking as you pace to catch up to her.

>"Hey, if it wasn't cool to comment on your outfit like that I'm so-"

>"No, no! Not that." She says, blushing slightly while rubbing her cheek. “I… Thank you, I got to pick the color myself."

>You exchange a friendly look, before you speak again.

>"Mint's a nice color..."

>The difficult expression returned as Julie carefully sat on a street side bench and looked up into the late morning sky.

>"...So what did I say?"

>"I think you're worth a 'damn' anon." She said, the curse stilted as though it was from a foreign language.

>"Oh, that line? I just meant that pretty much everyone would be gone." You said, sitting down next to her.

>"In my head I know that. But I can't stand to hear you talk about yourself like that."

>For a moment, you just watch the petals fall from the decorative trees lining the road.

>The airy white flecks land on the few cars dotting the street, a mellow cacophony of rustles the only thing you can hear in the sleeping street.

>It's always been a wonderful place to relax for someone who could never make it to church.

>You try not to think about what a nightmare getting all that crap off of your own car will be, and just enjoy the warm breeze.

>"I didn't mean nothing by it, don't you worry." You say.

>"I know it's stupid, it's just…" She sighed. “I had a friend, who used to talk bad about herself a lot."

>"That's not stupid. I never liked to hear people talk ill of themselves either." You say. “And hey, don't call yourself stupid." You smirk.

>She softly chuckled, as her screens shifted to an ocean blue.

>"Irma."

>"Hm?"

>"Her name. It was Irma."

>She rubbed her palm with a thumb, and watched the fur shift as it passed over.

>You couldn't help but want to feel it.

>"She liked to watch me take care of the flowers, said she was too clumsy and stupid to do it herself but thought I looked beautiful while I did something I loved."

>She looked down at her flats, and shakily sighed.

>"She didn't make it through selection." She sniffled. “They scrap an-"

>A couple soft clicks radiate from the cats chest, and she brings a palm up.

>She looks over at you with the strangest apologetic expression.

>You don't like it.

>"Sorry."

>She clears her throat, and brings her hands back together in her lap.

>"She was so nice to everyone she met." She sighed, looking deeply into the sky. “I never understood why she just couldn't be nice to herself."

>"I don't know why I'm telling you this. Or how. I shouldn't be able to even tell you as much as I have."

>You carefully grab one of her hands with your own, and look into her deep blue eyes.

>"You can tell me anything."

>Her breathing starts to pick up, and she lets a few strained whimpers out.

>“I miss her."

>You didn't realize an offhand comment would make such a bad memory surface for Julie. Let alone that she had any in the first place.

>You embrace her with one arm as she rests her head against your chest.

>It's all you can do to look down at her silken black hair as she steadies her breathing.

>You can fix this.

>You owe it to her to fix it.

>Ill give you good memories from here on out.