>>5309562
> Open the door and face the persistent visitor, ignoring the thing.
Gotta' be a lingering dream, or... Or something.

>>5309562
>> Look around your room for a place to hide the slime-thing.

>>5309562
>Look around your room for a place to hide the slime-thing.

>>5309562
>>Look around your room for a place to hide the slime-thing.

>>5309562

Look around

>>5309593
>>5309611
>>5309662
>>5309733
>>5310307

You rubbed your eyes with the ends of your wrists—pushing them until you felt discomfort. You looked directly ahead. Never mind what it was, it was real. A malformed clump of jelly-like substance, unlike anything you have seen before, standing in one place, yet its contours seemed ever-shifting. It was as tall as you, with its “hair” melting like syrup yet hanging to the rest of its body, never dirtying your floor.

It was a man’s voice. “Briants, don’t make me break the door.” He knocked again.

Not even the revenuers knew, during their first visit, your name or who lived here, they had to ask. How did this zozzled bull did? There was something suspicious—something unfair—about such frequent visits. You tossed your head, looking through the dark for a spot to hide the deviant presence; if one of the prohis was here to smell through your cellar, you didn’t want another smoking gun for him to be found.

You had your bed: the bedsheets long enough to cover the living (?) being if only you would be able to push it underneath. You had a large closet, empty aside from your worn-out and ill-fit suit, shirts and a pair of two-tone shoes—a gift for the quality of your refreshments ... You could have had also tried to push it into another room, locking the door shut, away from prying eyes.

Your sister, your drinking partner, was a room away from where it would be after; would it try and move once you were no longer in its sight, and it in yours? As you contemplated, the silhouette of substance watched you: the sunken black orbs floated up, remaining parallel to each other.

> Hide the thing beneath the bed.
> Hide the thing in the large closet.
> Hide the thing in another room.
> [Write In]

>>5310395
>closet
It's the least messy option which still lets us keep anneye on our slimegirl waifu

>>5310395
>Hide the thing beneath the bed.

Rolled 1 (1d2)

>>5310399
> Hide the thing in the large closet.

>>5311054
> Hide the thing beneath the bed.

>>5310399
> It's the least messy option which still lets us keep anneye on our slimegirl waifu
> Please don't go spoling the entire premise!

File: Standing_Outside_Your_Doo(...).png (322 KB, 770x1388)

322 KB PNG

>>5310399
>>5311054

You turned to a large closet: a place with enough space to hide the eery thing and near enough to keep an eye on it behind heavy firmly shut doors. With no time to think, you reached for it with your hand only to have it bounce off the rubbery slime as if you tried to push it against a spring mattress. You stood closer to it after, and with its “eyes” staring down at you, it seemed disturbed by the way you touched it. Lashless eyelids swallowed its eyes and then freed them. This-isn’t-the-right-moment shout upset it; it made both you and it turn your heads again. You couldn’t imagine dealing with it all hangover; luckily for you, your hangover was magically absent.

You pushed your way to the closet doors, flinging both of the old-fangled doors open halfway. You pointed inside, but the cocktail of orange slime and liquid outpaced your thoughts; its gelatinous slurry formed a female form, with human-like appendages of legs and arms that it moved. Each of them was unstable like butter melted for frying. It knew to step inside in haste, and you knew to close the doors. The key was somewhere close but such did not narrow it down for you. You hoped it would not open the door in the middle of your private conversation.

You opened the door; the little door chain jittered but hung securely. Outside, past the figure, there was a car, a … Tudor sedan? Your sister knew better. The mysterious stranger stepped to block your view in full as if he was intentionally clad in black clothes. It was hard to see, or specify, but he dressed well. Despite the showering rain—trees' canopies hanging like a cracked barrel—the man was parched like his lips. He wore a black suit, a grey collared shirt, and a chalk-white tie. His leathery gloves and boots were likewise charcoal black, and so was his—crown folded to form a teardrop—fedora. He lowered two of the fingers with which he knocked; the only other white thing in his getup was the shirt's white sleeves.

“You took your time, Elmer Briant." His lips moved as if his words were whispered, but he spoke at loud.

“Yes, you woke me up.” You preferred half-truths to lying. “Are you with the Bureau of Prohibition?”

He shook his head, barely. A heavy stone slid and fell off your neck. “I hope you are not as distrustful as the Bureau says, Elmer Briant.”

You looked inside the dimness of your cottage, then back at him. “I-I’m not. … do you want me to wake up my sister as well?”

He shook his head, barely. “ … and I will also ask you to warmheartedly invite me inside some other day.”

Damn, your empty bottles were right next to the threshold. “You knocked very long and hard … ”

“Call me One Two” —Twelve?— “One Two.”

“One Two, what do you need me for?"

Like a peephole of a speakeasy, his headwear hid his eyes. “This week—yesterday and today—have you seen anything strange?”

You had not, not until a few minutes ago. You had gone to sleep plastered for entire week, yet woke up fresh without any hangover: that was strange to you.

“What do you mean by strange? Illegal?”

“You know what strange means, Elmer Briant. Unusual. Peculiar. Baffling. Out Of Place. -Alien-.”

> “I can’t say I have, One Two. This place is outside the apple, it is rather quiet. Not much happens here.”
> “I have not. Why? Is there something I should be looking out for?”
> “Alien? I don’t believe in aliens, One Tw- do you have a real name? You don’t look like a real state agent, so with that said, I ask you to breeze off.”
> [Write In]

>>5311463
>“I can’t say I have, One Two. This place is outside the apple, it is rather quiet. Not much happens here.”

>>5311463
>“I can’t say I have, One Two. This place is outside the apple, it is rather quiet. Not much happens here.”

>>5311463
"You're going to need to be more specific. I see a lot of strangeness, but most of it is right at home around here. Not exactly... Alien, you know?"

Try and fish some info out of him.

>>5312446

Support.

Also, hang over spirit?

>>5311482
>>5311956
>>5312446
>>5312559

“Alien? I can’t say I have, One Two.” Even for an alias, his was a strange one. “You're going to need to be more specific. This place is outside the apple, it is rather quiet. Not much happens here. The strangest things I’ve seen were right at home,” you hid your untimely laugh—it was a joke. “Those are not exactly alien,” you glanced away, “you will not be interested in -those- strangenesses.”

“I'll decide that,” keeping with his concealed eyes’ continuous stare, he reached with one hand into the inner pocket of his suit, briefly flashing a luminous watch. You readied for the worst: a heater; you held onto the door, ready to close it. At his leisure, he took out a pocketbook and a pencil.

“Elmer Briant, your neighbours have been very disturbed by the lights flashing through the clouds, especially when it rained the most, at night,” he turned a page, “As you know, it has been showering rain for that long.” As if the angels were actors in his play, a bolt of lightning flashed through the thick grey skies and peal thundered above your old cottage. “I wish it was lightning, but the lights reported were of unusual colours. Have you seen anything like it?”

The people living nearest to you were half an hour of drive away, the same as the people next to them. They preferred Compostela, even the streets of Ashtray, to the swamps outside it. You had no reason to be awake at night, and usually being canned at those hours, you wouldn’t had paid much attention to the colourful sky anyhow. You shook your head at the asker. “Anything else?”

He was not displeased—his face and his dry tone concealed much of his mood as if he was an alien himself. He turned another page, raising it closer to him and between you and himself like a wall. “There are reports of raindrops as big as a gasburner dropping in here. Elmer Briant, have you seen anything like that at your homestead?”

Again, you were honest with him to a fault. “Raindrops as big as a car, One Two? Wouldn’t even one of them be big enough to crash through my roof? If it’s a dozen of them, were they be real, that would have had been worse.”

He tapped the pencil against the notebook’s edge, “That’s true, Elmer Briant.” He pointed it somewhere left of his car, “‘It only lasts a minute or two’ is what they say." He looked past the porch. "Once it no longer raining, in the morning, I hope to return.”

> “I’ll be more than happy to help you out, One Two, as long as it’s not -too- early.”
> “Can it be possible neighbours of mine were just out on the roof*?”
You shouldn’t be peaching**, but drinking alcohol in itself is not illegal, and he isn’t a fed.
> “Can you come another day? I have something to take care of tomorrow; I’ll be busy.”
You have nothing, aside from the mass of orange slime now stored in your closet.
> [Write In]

*Very drunk
**Informing the police

>>5312559
> No way you are hanging over spirits!

>>5312771
>“Can it be possible neighbours of mine were just out on the roof*?”
>“Can you come another day? I have something to take care of tomorrow; I’ll be busy.”

We have a busy day ahead (not that he needs to know why), and it's probably a bunch of silly drunks having a laugh, anyway! Hahaha, oh those silly neighbors...

>>5312800

Support

Rolled 57 (1d100)

Checkem (I'm drunk)

>>5312800
>>5313546
>>5313551

“Can it be possible that neighbours of mine were just out on the roof?”

He made a note. “It’s not as easy to get alcohol those days,” he said.

You had a shaking smile. “I-I guess no, you need to know the right people.”

He held the pause, lifting the pages by their edges to glance at them without turning. Unnerving.

“Can you come another day? I have something to take care of tomorrow; I’ll be busy.”

The edge of his pen scoured another note. “Elmer Briant, I don’t think you understand how important this is compared to your chores. It was as if he sighed. “Make time for me the day after.” He rid himself of the notebook, turning his head to scrutinize your house. “Keep an eye on the things I had mentioned, but, for your own safety, be silent.” He turned away from you, the rain inches away from the hat which he did not even tip to you in farewell.

You waited to see an explanation for at least one of the strangenesses—his dry clothes—but the man was more patient. You closed the door. You opened the door as soon as you closed it. The mysterious man, like a ghost, vanished. You heard the car’s engine growl like a beast: well-fed but unrested. The headlights turned on, blinding you. The two lights burned away the darkness and scorched the rain, its only respite: not staying too long in its sight. Again, you waited for the car to depart, but it was unmoving, its windows too dark to see anything inside of it.

You locked the door shut, leaning your back on its loftiness. As soon as you did, the sound of the engine died out. In the sudden silence, your heartbeat was unnecessarily loud. You hated talking to people, especially to strangers.

You needed a drink.

> Open the closet and take out the flask you have well-hidden in your hat.
> Remove one of your floorboards for a secret stash of booze … you just have to remember which one.
> Go to the family room where you drank with your sister last night. Check on her health, and check if there are any unopened—or at least unfinished—bottles of alcohol anywhere in sight.
> [Write In]

>>5313891
>> Go to the family room where you drank with your sister last night. Check on her health, and check if there are any unopened—or at least unfinished—bottles of alcohol anywhere in sight.

>>5313891
> Go to the family room where you drank with your sister last night. Check on her health, and check if there are any unopened—or at least unfinished—bottles of alcohol anywhere in sight.

>>5313891
>> Remove one of your floorboards for a secret stash of booze … you just have to remember which one.

>>5313891

> Hold up, what about the monster in the closet?

>>5313891
> Go to the family room where you drank with your sister last night. Check on her health, and check if there are any unopened—or at least unfinished—bottles of alcohol anywhere in sight.

>>5314113
>>5314118
>>5314867
>>5314974
>>5315116

You scrutinized the lock-less dresser; you had but one thought, a certain one: you were not going to face the monster inside while sober. Within it, you had a hat, and in that hat, there was a flask: hidden away and filled to the screw with a real McCoy. It was good alcohol, better than anything—almost anything—you had in bigger bottles and corked jugs, but you doubted your ability to grab the drink before that thing grabbed you. It made no sound; whether it was capable of such. You were not -that- curious.

You took one step back, and then another, fixing your gaze on rough-hewn floorboards instead, uneven as a cheaply built pier. The way those steps creaked always raised your smile, it meant each—with just enough effort from your body—was easy to pull out and hide the giggle water under. You sighed. It was a task to find the right boards when it was bright; in the darkness, it was to be wearisome.

Without the assistance of a match or a candle, you passed through the hallway and then into the family room. You walked the same way you did last night, something your sister seemed not capable of. You found Mary—like always—sleeping on an uninviting sofa unroughened by dozens of pillows and cushions. Your absent hangover had not refreshed your memory—you couldn’t remember the moment you left, had she continued drinking without you? The table on which only a few bottles were, the rest scattered across the floor, reached up to your neck. It wobbled as you picked an empty bottle to check; it was empty. You drinking partner, your sister … she was weak-hearted, sick; you had already ordered a tombstone. You knew that you couldn’t die before her—she wouldn’t had reciprocated your care.

You thoroughly checked each reservoir of hooch until you found an inch of whiskey you bothered not to taste. It refreshed you, it made you warm up … you did -not- need that. You had it join the rest of the empty bottles. Mary murmured, but more importantly, near her, you heard a splosh in the uncorked (!) bottle of wine she tightened as if she was holding an infant, though maybe not her own.

> Find a candle and some matches and light them up.
> Return and try your luck with the secret stash in your waiting room.
> Take the bottle out of Mary’s hands. If she wakes up, bring her with you after briefly explaining what happened.
> Take the bottle out of Mary’s hands. If she wakes up, try and convince her to stay here and, for the best, fall asleep.
> [Write In]

>>5315560

> Take the bottle out of Mary’s hands. If she wakes up, try and convince her to stay here and, for the best, fall asleep.

your writing was already enjoyable last quest, but it's improved!

>>5315560
> Take the bottle out of Mary’s hands. If she wakes up, try and convince her to stay here and, for the best, fall asleep.

>>5315560
>> Take the bottle out of Mary’s hands. If she wakes up, bring her with you after briefly explaining what happened.

>>5315560
> Take the bottle out of Mary’s hands. If she wakes up, bring her with you after briefly explaining what happened.

But if it comes to a tiebreaker I'll abstain.

File: Cute and slimy....jpg (41 KB, 559x558)

41 KB JPG

>>5315632
>>5316334
>>5316660
>>5317511

You walked up to your sister and the bottle she unsentiently guarded. You put your hand below the bottom of it, pulling it further by its neck. Mary snorted but didn’t wake up. Her fashioned nails scratched the foggy brown glass—the sound doing the same to your earlobes—but her fingers slid off, botching to keep you from nicking it. She grasped at naked air. The bottle, like a favourite childhood plush, had abandoned her. You looked at your sister's distressed impression. ‘Sorry Mary’.

You smelled the grape juice: not only was it homemade, but it was also flat. You sighed, lifting the warmed bottleneck to your lips. You were not a wine fella, but it was the easiest of the bootlegs to get a hold of in those depressing times, it was the easiest to make. The shops in Compostela sold concentrated grape bricks, the clearest razz of the law that the feds could do nothing about. ‘After dissolving the brick in a gallon of water, do not place the liquid in a jug away in the cupboard for twenty days’, the label said, ‘because then it would turn to wine.’ You couldn’t say whether the -real wine- was supposed to taste like vinegar or not.

The D’Addario Family showed only mild interest in the squeezed wet raisins anyone made, they paid you for the hard liquor. You gulped the wine down, making do with what your sister left you with. Good. Sweet and acidy, the wine fell, caressing your throat with warm gloves. Water lacked the kick the start the day like a proper spirit. You finished the remains, returning the wine bottle into your sister’s hands. Your blood burning with ethanol, you felt ready to face whatever it was. You turned around to the room’s narrow entrance.

The thing knew how to open a door. Somehow, its black orbs were evident despite how dark the rest of the room was. It walked like a person, pacing from one foot to another. Its body resembled a poured-out orange jam, the outlines of it foaming and then falling like dawdling tides. Indeed, a human shape: an undressed and unfinished wax figure melting under the absent sun. In addition to hands and legs, it also had a bubbling feminine chest, gaudy thickened substances coasted beneath dozen layers of slime.

It stopped, noticing you. Below its eyes, formed lips, opening and closing as if the thing was mute. In one motion, the thing raised its hands and perked its fingers, tips oozing into malformed viscous appendages. Its hands were pointing at your head.

> Pick up a bottle and throw it at the orange slime, as a warning.
> Pick up several bottles and keep throwing them at the orange slime until—hopefully—it runs away.
> Pick a bottle, rush towards the orange slime and then attempt to try and smash it against its head.
> Start waving one of the empty bottles in front of yourself, warning the orange slime not to come close.
> Keep watching what the orange slime is attempting to do; watch it bravely and silently without any hostile reaction.
> [Write In]

>>5317821
> Keep watching what the orange slime is attempting to do; watch it bravely and silently without any hostile reaction.
Getting aggressive needlessly can make things worse

>>5317821
> Keep watching what the orange slime is attempting to do; watch it bravely and silently without any hostile reaction.
It watched us quietly, then let us shove it in a closet. I don't think it's here to hurt us.

>>5317821

> Keep watching what the orange slime is attempting to do; watch it bravely and silently without any hostile reaction.

If we wanted rid of it we missed our moment with the MIB.

>>5317854
>>5317974
>>5318007

What was it, and what was it doing in this house, in -your- home? You swallowed the wine’s acid-tasting curbs sticking to your throat. You stared at the -thing- as it crept towards you. A bit drunk, you felt brave enough to lunge at it with a bottle, or, at least, toss a bottle at it; to confront and fight it. Reaching for one of the hollow bottles nearby, you pulled your hand away and halted. It carried on its encroachment, the boneless ooze quietly blobbing, plashing and blubbering. You gripped the trembling edge of the table on which the bottles stood; they collapsed and fell off without shattering. If the thing was hostile, feral, or mindless, it would have had assaulted you long prior, instead of letting you obediently and quietly guide it inside the closet. Getting aggressive needlessly could’ve made things worse.

You cleared your throat, clenching your fists to watch it as it came closer and closer towards you. You thanked liquid courage, the bravery you then felt to stare unblinking—the same way it did—at the nerve-racking cryptid. It advanced-shuffled before you, the rubbery sheen of what-was-suppose-to-be its stomach casting a greasy reflection of your brown hair and greyish sides, like a serene but dirty lake surface. It was a few inches taller than you.

You flinched your eyes as its’ slimy yet secretless fingers lowered as if to squeeze your head. There was no stroke, instead, at first, it felt as if someone fleshlily exhaled above the edges of your ears. You felt dizzy, then, your mind fleetingly went blank. You tried to raise your arms, but they turned soft-unresponsive, your entire body becoming cold, heated, and then indescribable. It all elapsed.

The second you could, you shoved your arms and fists at the slime-thing, only to bounce back and collapse on your knees. Under the layers of opaque jelly within its hands was a brownish fluid, corroding like rust. Your mind felt clear as if you had not drank!

“W-what did you do to me?!”

Lowering its hands, it answered like a salmon pulled by a rod from below the seafloor, as if gasping for air instead of talking to you.

> Step forward and angrily smack your hands above its chest. “What did you do to me?”
> Step away from the thing to keep it at arms’ length. “I did not ask you to make me sober, you ... whatever you are.”
> “What the heck are you? Do you understand what I’m saying?”
> It made you sober! The damn thing! Pick a bottle and throw it at it!
> You can’t let your sister wake up and have it be the first thing she sees. Try and lead the orange slime away from this room.
> [Write In]

>>5319353
>> Step away from the thing to keep it at arms’ length. “I did not ask you to make me sober, you ... whatever you are.”
>> “What the heck are you? Do you understand what I’m saying?”

>>5319353
> You can’t let your sister wake up and have it be the first thing she sees. Try and lead the orange slime away from this room.
> Step away from the thing to keep it at arms’ length. “I did not ask you to make me sober, you ... whatever you are.”
> “What the heck are you? Do you understand what I’m saying?”

>>5319612

Support

>>5320064
Supporting this sequence

>>5320064
Supporting to break the tie

>>5319612
>>5320064
>>5320114
>>5320305
>>5320310

You stepped away from the thing to keep it at arm’s length. “I did not ask you to make me sober, you …whatever you are.”

The slime-form’s viscous semi-solid mouth opened and closed voicelessly; there was only a silent squeak. The appendages of its arms were reformed back into fingers characteristic of a swell woman, and the new brownish liquid had been withered by the solids of its unnatural oily lifeblood. It looked at you and then turned to Mary with the same engrossed gaze it meddled prior with you. You muscled in before it, grabbing onto its arm with sober strength and infirm grip. You managed to hold, a jolt, like morphine-induced electrocution, jerking your arm and shoulder. Its body reverberated like rubber, and near-slipped away like foamed soap.

“What the heck are you? Do you understand what I’m saying?”

It shifted its weight, stopping on its way. Its body was tilted frontward, with its arms raised up straight, its fingertips beginning to melt. Its neck and head were twisted like it would have usually happened with a doll. It stared you down, the eyelids blinking, emerging and vanishing the black orbs. Like a tongueless mute, it spoke one more time, curving its eyes to your sister and back.

“Leave my sister be, alright?” you said, your lips coldly pressed together. The thing had drained you of your alcohol, your courage. Despite the cumbersomeness, you wheeled towards the exit of the family room, pulling the thing along with you; it followed you.

You came to an ominous and discomfiting realization: you were dealing with an alien slime and a whole lot of potential issues! You stepped inside the windowless hallway separating the family and the waiting room. You closed the door behind you and it. It did not show any resistance, only a curious observance. It … were you supposed to give it a different name? It has flowing slime locks, a feminine chest, and a slendered body as if … was it a female, or the thing had somehow reformed itself to resemble a woman?

> Before you do anything else, what should you refer to it as?

> Continue to refer it as “It”.
> Jelly.
> Slimy.
> Virgo.
> Orange.
> [Write In]

> This is the most important choice of the quest!

>>5320364
Sippy as she sips the alcohol out of you

>>5320364
>> Jelly

>>5320364


>>5320546
Seconding 'Sippy'

>>5320364
>Sippy

Sorry, no update today. I don't mind but are you guys sure about Sippy, it is not some internet meme I don't know?

>>5322115
I personally think it sounds retarded. Of course, I didn't vote for it.

>>5322115
>>5320364
>>5320548

You know what? She actually looks more like a Cassiopeia to me, which we can shorten of course (if we don't end up naming her after a type of cup).

Changing my vote.

>>5322119
I'll support so long as it's not Sippy, which is just really dumb.

>>5322119
I'll support Cassiopeia

I would have to say no to Cassiopeia as Elmer wouldn't know of such a constellation or queen.

>>5322224

Damn. Is that a firm no? Would it be a stretch if he got that off of a wine bottle (such a wine exists; there's also a cocktail named after Casseiopia)? I just feel that anything's better than 'Sippy.' Name is serious cringe.

If it's a firm no, I'll go with Virgo.

>>5322227
I like your suggestion with a wine bottle or the cocktail; hm, I can work with that.

>>5322224
What year are we in? Perhaps 'Casio' after the calculator and then lengthened to 'Casiopeia' after a bit more though?

>>5322419
Given this is the Prohibition era, Casio hasn't been founded yet and won't make (mechanical) calculators until the '50s.

>>5320546
>>5320548
>>5320604
>>5320620
>>5322116
>>5322119
>>5322139
>>5322201
>>5322227
>>5322419
>>5322995

You were unsure; if you had to, you could be able to see this mass of slime and glob as a female humanoid. Did it even want you to?

You chafed your finger into your chest—with your sister in another room, you let your voice raise.

“My name is Elmer,” you said, each word holding a stop worthy of a sentence. “Do -you- have a name?” You pointed at it.

The head of the sapient gelatin slumped as if it gave a nod; how certain you could have been it -was- a nod? Her gooey kisser puckered up to silently waste time, to no befit of either of you. This wasn’t working. You tossed a lazy, aggravated and also disturbed look away into the shadows of the room. The wine, no matter how much taste it had of vinegar, or how flat it was, was wasted! You felt no doubt that the suit-garbing visitor was sniffing out for her, you saved her life and she … this thing had made you sober-damn! If her bluenose self wasn’t going to introduce herself, it was up to you to give her one; a name. Maybe, you could have made it demeaning?

You couldn’t remember when was the last time you dealt with your problems when your tongue was dry and your mind unsoddened; you knew you were not going to begin. You pushed rudely the pseudonymous slime and walked into the waiting room towards your single bed. Visitors were infrequent, but those that paid a visit you didn't want to linger, so you boozed off every night here. She followed, her slime-flesh shifting and her slime-hair bubbling as she did. You knelled before onto the floor.

The best and easiest way was to sneak back into the family room and light up a candle to take with you but … it was not about the risk, you were lazy, and you did not wish to see the thing in all her disgusting colouration. Drinking too much left you without some, or the entirety, of the memory from the previous nights; frustratingly without it. You had the confidence to remember your hiding spots, to sniff out the moonshine you spend the better time of your day making and hiding. The slime’s knees sludged, curtsying onto the cragged floorboards to watch you. Her mouth kept emerging from her fishbowl head, opening and closing. Vain hope. She did not know how to speak like a human being, it seemed. You lifted a board to -finally- find some gin.

Homemade gin: bathtub gin; horrendous thing. You had a knack for brewing whiskey and bourbon, but those needed time and care—the things the Family was sore about. Gin’s dirt chip grain mash didn’t have to be aged, at all, but, even after supplemental juniper, it was undrinkable; even to a boozehound like you. You left it for others to suffer with, but they had a way. Once in a blue moon, you were “asked” to visit a blind pig, for a more eye-to-eye hand-to-hand shipment. The D’Addario’s men sat you down—pushed you—and made you a drink with near-identical hooch.

They called it a cocktail, with gin as a base. It made it drinkable, even enjoyable. You had not seen how it was done, but they told you the name of it: Cassiopeia. All cocktails—you learned—had brazen over-the-top names. What the fuck was a Cassiopeia? You couldn’t remember.

You look down at the bottle, then at the cryptid, the nightcrawling Specter Moose of your backyard.

“I’ll call you Cassiopeia, for now. Do you understand? You will be Cass, for short.” You shoved your finger at her chest. It ricocheted, striking the temple of your nose like a rubber bullet. Your head flicked back, showing you the stars. They quickly vanished. Cassiopeia was there, innocent-like.

> “The guy left, if you are worried about him. Do you want to leave now? I won’t stop you.”
> “Where are you from? What are you doing here? What do you plan to do now?”
> Figure out a way to explain and introduce the alien to your sister without her suffering a heart attack, or calling you crazy.
> Offer her the bottle of bathtub gin; see what she does with it.
> Take the bottle and walk to the kitchen to make a “drinkable” “cocktail” for yourself.
> [Write In]

>>5323168
>> “The guy left, if you are worried about him. Do you want to leave now? I won’t stop you.”
> Offer her the bottle of bathtub gin; see what she does with it.

>>5323187

“The guy left if you are worried about him.” You pointed at the door. “Do you want to leave now? I won’t stop you.”

She … it … God damn it! It was going to take you time to get used to. Cass raised and turned her formless head to look at the door.

Your finger was raised in the air. Her neck veered back, her sunken black eyeorbs fixating on your finger, then your head, then the bottle. She raised her overhung arms, separating them from the sides of her body like melted cheese; the outlines snapping to their build. Her hands lowered to fall and envelop your arm; she began to caress it like one does the dishes with a scrubbing brush.

You felt no body heat. You yanked your hand from her unrestrained clutch. You picked and pushed the gin into her hands.

Cass paused as if to let her mind recoil. Her hands and palms entangled the bottle the way your snoozed sister did. As if with a drunken clumsiness she nestled the bottle cap. You watched as she fiddled with it, somehow unable to twist-turn-open it.

> Continue to watch in silence and amusement.
> Take the bottle of gin from her hands and show her how to open it.
> Leave her be. Stand up and walk to the door to open it. Repeat yourself.
> [Write In]

>>5324362
> Take the bottle of gin from her hands and show her how to open it.
C-cute.

>>5324362
>> Take the bottle of gin from her hands and show her how to open it.

>>5324444
>>5324455

Several minutes after, you took pity on the struggling creature. You pulled the bottle from her unresisting hands, twisting and cap and opening the D’Addario ware. You kept the cap to yourself, returning the refreshment to Cass. Her solid fondles slipped around the bottleneck. She gripped the bottle in a way no real human ever would or could. She raised it to her rubbery lips, the bluish-white moonbrew running down her semitransparent throat. None of the alcohol lushed outside her alien mouth as it would for you.

She lowered the bottle. You struck out your hands to stop it from falling and spilling. A rusty current materialized below the bottom of her neck to submerse and then spill itself across the insides of her opaque body. The cloud of brown soon dissipated, crumbling and vanishing below the orange slime flesh. She looked down silently at you, blinking as if nothing had happened. She motioned at the bottle now in your hands. You shook your head, closing the cap and screwing it back instead: there was no way you were going to drink it unmixed.

Her lips curled as if she chewed a gun. She opened them as before, but a bubble began to form and expand in size this time. Once the bubble grew as big as your palm, it snapped off her mouth and started to float in the air between you and her. It was near-transparent, formed by the liquid of the gin. A lustrous orange symbol swam inside.

> Pop the bubble with your finger.
> Look closely to see if the symbol resembles anything you know.
> Stand up and stay away to avoid the bubble accidentally (?) touching you, or God forbid, entering your mouth.
> [Write In]

>>5325321
> Look closely to see if the symbol resembles anything you know.

>>5325321
> Look closely to see if the symbol resembles anything you know.

>>5325321
>> Look closely to see if the symbol resembles anything you know.

>>5325321
> Look closely to see if the symbol resembles anything you know.

File: Symbol within a bubble ....png (27 KB, 584x606)

27 KB PNG

>>5325341
>>5325609
>>5325617
>>5326738

> It looks like a ...?
> You have no idea what it looks like.
> [Write In]

I had no PC access yesterday.
I hope this art representation is good enough.

>>5327784
>Constellation
>A Constellation of a bottle spilling its contents?

>>5327784
>>Constellation
>>A Constellation of a bottle spilling its contents?

>>5327880
>>5327980

It resembled a constellation, somewhat. A constellation of a bottle spilling its contents?

You lifted the bottle above your chest. “Is this suppose to be the place you are fr—” The bubble popped.

Did she even know a nod or a shake? Cass leaned forward. Her hands touched and slid down your skin like you were digging for worms in soupy earth. Her fingers caressed the bottle’s opaque glass, rarely grazing yours.

> Open the bottle and pour the content out; is this what she wants?
> Open the bottle and take a sip despite the well-known taste of bathtub gin, and its dangers.
> Walk to the kitchen and pour yourself a cocktail drink—Cass is likely to follow you.
>[Write In]

>>5328772
> Open the bottle and take a sip despite the well-known taste of bathtub gin, and its dangers.

>>5328772
>Walk to the kitchen and make a cocktail
We need a drink, and this stuff barely qualifies as a drink.

Rolled 2 (1d2)

>>5328798
> Open the bottle and take a sip despite the well-known taste of bathtub gin, and its dangers.

>>5328904
> We need a drink, and this stuff barely qualifies as a drink.

>>5328798
>>5328904

You raised the bottle above your eyes: the juniper hooch within the glass bent the already fickle figure of Cass. You grit your teeth, gripping the bottle and picking yourself off the floor. She followed you to the cold room of your low-ceilinged basement. Despite how freezing your house was at the best of times, some things needed a place colder. Things like non-alcoholic drinks. Cass’s eyes, devoid of pupils or glares, wardened the milk you took out.

The Venetian blinds on the lone sunken window were rolled-down and shut, turning the already unlit kitchen into a funeral pit. Cass’s arm rubbed against your elbow as she failed to fit in the room’s dinkiness. By memory, you careened to the hung cupboard—Cass struggling to follow you—taking out a mug to mix gin and milk. No sugar, no nutmeg, no ice.

You wet your whistle, unsavouring the taste that you knew was only-just-tolerable. You gulped, and then finished the rest of the glass without once having it leave your lips. Sweatiness briefly concealed the strike, calming your powder-like anger towards the slimeball and stiffening your nerves at it. Cat's pajamas. You made a second serving.

Unnoticed, Cass rootstock fingers, for a second hitting you with a scent of ferment, connected with your temple. An impelling force so strong, you felt your soul evicted and your body washed with scented soap and scrubbed with an iron brush. When the soul paid back the rent and returned control of the body, you pushed away Cass with a familiar knock-back. You were sober -again-!
“Would you stop already?!” you said, walking towards her to push your chest against hers. “I just want a drink!”

The precious alcohol turned into rust was disappearing in her goo hands before your eyes. Her eyes were solid and unblinking. She looked at the cocktail inventory on the countertop, and then back at you. Her alien mouth mumbled at you in silence.

> Pour Cass a glass of water and entertain her long enough to get yourself a-tiny-little-bit-drunk.
> Give Cass the milk bottle to drink. Drink the dirty gin while she is distracted.
> Walk out of the kitchen to have Cass walk outside with you, suddenly turn and return to the kitchen to lock the door without her.
> Continue mixing the gin and milk cocktail and drinking it in resistance to Cassiopeia’s efforts to fix you of your drunkenness.
> This is not going to work. Decide on what to do with Cass on a sombre head. Damn, you wish you had some alcohol in you.
> [Write In]

>>5330030
> This is not going to work. Decide on what to do with Cass on a sombre head. Damn, you wish you had some alcohol in you.
she's just going to suck the drink out of us until we either run out or figure out if she can get full

>>5330030
>> This is not going to work. Decide on what to do with Cass on a sombre head. Damn, you wish you had some alcohol in you.

>>5330030
> This is not going to work. Decide on what to do with Cass on a sombre head. Damn, you wish you had some alcohol in you.

>>5330033
>>5330211
>>5330227

That wasn’t going to work. Damn, you wish you had some alcohol in you! You stored away both milk and gin; not too much of a secret, but away from prying-visiting eyes. She—the unintelligible humanoid slimeform—was not to get off your case. She planned to suck the drink out of you until you were emptied of all of the D’Addario family's stock. You sighed; you had to decide it all on a somber head. Compostela rested only a dozen minutes away by car, but an hour on foot, through the sunken swamplands of your home and then the outside streets refereed by most as Ashtray.

> You had no car or a driving license, but your sister had one and used to have another.

> Trick and hide the alien in the bathroom—or the basement. You’ll deal -with- her -without- her there.
> Use clothes and rags and everything else to wrap the alien and set her in the car as if she’s a delivery.
> Introduce Cass to Mary as is, a local cryptid visiting your family cottage for some God damn reason.
> [Write In]

> Walk outside of your family cottage and investigate the ground around it for any unfamiliar alien signs.
> Wake up your sister and ask her to drive you to the public telephone room to make a call. To who? You’ll figure it out later.
> Wake up your sister and ask her to drive you directly to one of the speakeasies under D’Addario’s control to talk with people you know.
> Take Mary’s car key and sit behind the wheel; she gave you a lesson, once. Drive carefully towards Compostela.
> You can’t afford to drag your sister into it, or to get her only source of income—the cab—smashed. Walk with Cass on foot.
> [Write In]

>>5331532
> Introduce Cass to Mary as is, a local cryptid visiting your family cottage for some God damn reason.
> Wake up your sister and ask her to drive you directly to one of the speakeasies under D’Addario’s control to talk with people you know.
Surely the mafia will know what to do!
(Or at elast make this not our problem anymore)

>>5331638
>>5331532

Support!

Apology for the lack of updates. I'll post one tomorrow.

>>5331638
>>5331659

The people you worked for and those who had you in their debt were one and the same. Others were the feds, their monthly—lately once a week—visits as though they were ironing their suspicions and stockpiling their dirt; or did the G-men work others the same way? With both, the circle of your acquaintances was cut off, sister and the weirdo not-included. Not much of a choice.

You put your finger down, and then again. “Stay here,” you told Cass. You stomped once. “Stay. Here.” Your eyes glared at hers.

Her head shook in retort: a cocktail mix of a nod, a shake, and a seizure. You kept pointing at the floor while taking steps back.

You shut the door yards away from her. You twist-turned the knob, knowing it would do little to stop it ... her, from opening the door.

Mary, in her plunging drowsiness, licked and bit her thirsting lips. You called out her name, stepping to approach: you knew it wouldn’t work. “Dry up, Mary.” You reached for her cheeks, slapping her awake. You rubbed them up and down until her eyes yawned and she grabbed into your wrists. You couldn’t feel the drunken grip, but her fashioned black nails, as sharp as a cat’s, ushered her displeasure. You freed your scratched hands. “God damn it, Mary!” you put your fists between your legs, not to yell.

She touched her cheeks, as if your kneading of them was comparable, especially to how soused she still was! She mumbled a question.

“I need you to drive me to Compostela, tonight. Now.” You winced.

She wallowed, drifting her head like a ship out on the sea. “Elm’, what? What time is it?” She rubbed her spit into and below her eyes, blinking and unblinking. “Darn, it’s the middle of the night. Are you boiled? You said you don’t get boiled anymore? I know I still am."

Wishing that you were you licked your aching scratches. There’s an alien cryptid standing outside the door, waiting (?) for you.

> “Keep your arm on your heart. Take deep breaths.” Open the door and reveal the cryptid. Allow Cass to introduce herself.
> “There is a sentient human-like creature standing outside our door. I want to bootleg it off to D’Addario Family to deal with.”
> “Mary, do you know any boys who can help me? Trustworthy? Wise heads? I need to get rid of an alien gal, and quickly.”
> [Write In]

Reading literature on editing has made it much harder and slower for me to write. Questing is difficult.

>>5333251
> “Mary, do you know any boys who can help me? Trustworthy? Wise heads? I need to get rid of an alien gal, and quickly.”

>>5333257
Could do what I do: post it at once, with minimal edits, then kick yourself over word repetitions and obvious typos.

>>5333251
> “Mary, do you know any boys who can help me? Trustworthy? Wise heads? I need to get rid of an alien gal, and quickly.”

>>5333288
>>5333346

“Mary, do you know any boys who can help me? Trustworthy? Wise heads? I need to get rid of an alien gal, and quickly.”

“I know other cabbies that hate me.” Mary rubbed her eyes. “Wait, what did you just say?”
“Alien—”

“Alien gal, yes.” She raised the bottle in her hands; tough luck, the last drops of it went to your stomach, and then to sticky-fingered Cass. Mary grimaced, putting it on the ground only to knock and roll it over with her foot. She let out a grunt. “Elm’, let’s deal with your delusions in the morning.”

You rubbed your nose’s top between your fingertips. “Let me put it this way then, Mary: do you know anyone who can get rid us of a problem?”

“Us?”

“It’ll be your problem as well.”

Her eyelashes fluttered like a hand fan used to ease her hangover headache. She half-opened her eyes, peering at you underneath.

“I don’t know boys, Elm, ones I drive are dumbbells and dames, mostly. I told you how it works. Do you need wisecracking whisper sister? I know a few. Just tell me straight, brother, and it’ll be more believable than your jazz—do you need a body to hide? There’s always a ‘first’, I’m not surprised counting the people you're working for.”

> Approach the door and then reveal Cass to Mary.
> “No, but almost. Who is this person you’re thinking about?”
> “Get washed, Mary, and simply drive me and the thing—you’ll see—to the nearest speakeasy.”
> [Write In]

>>5334691
> Approach the door and then reveal Cass to Mary.
She's as braced as she's going to get. Just make sure to tell her not to scream.

>>5334691
> Approach the door and then reveal Cass to Mary.

>>5334691
>> Approach the door and then reveal Cass to Mary.

File: Larry the fish ....png (143 KB, 750x500)

143 KB PNG

>>5334695
>>5334708
>>5334809

A body to hide? That was one way to put it. You hoofed it towards the door, opening it for the reveal; or else, she simply would not believe you.

“Make sure you don’t scream.”

Her head bobbed towards the opened entrance. She wobbled as she put her weight on her knees. She stared at you unimpressed.

“Mary, there’s an al—!” You turned to look: Cass was gone.

With her eyes half-shut, Mary pushed herself to collapse on the bed. “Clean this mess up a bit, would you, Elm’?” she motioned to the empty bottles. She yawned and turned away and, within seconds, she returned to her intoxicated slumber.

You rushed out of the family room, through the hallway, and into the waiting space. You searched for the cryptid but she wasn’t in any of those. Disobedient and ungrateful bug-eye! You climbed the steps to the second floor, running through the petite corridor and then …

You stopped, slanting behind the door. On a simple wooden stand, Larry rested inside of his fish bowl. Cass’s curving slimeform stood in front of it, bending, sticking-pushing her orange face into the faintly luminous and overthickened glass. You watched, ready to strike; you would not allow some alien gal to eat your fish-friend. She did not, instead mumbling with her lips, and Larry, swimming near the glass, did the same.

> Continue watching at a distance.
> Call out for Cass and ask (or demand) that she follows you.
> Carefully approach Cass, grab her, and try and drag her back to show to Mary.
> [Write In]

>>5336230
Bump!

>>5336230
> Carefully approach Cass, grab her, and try and drag her back to show to Mary.

>>5336230
> Carefully approach Cass, grab her, and try and drag her back to show to Mary.

>>5336230
> Call out for Cass and ask (or demand) that she follows you.

>>5336230
>> Carefully approach Cass, grab her, and try and drag her back to show to Mary.

Forgot if I voted already here. Ignore if this is my 2nd.

Update tomorrow, sorry for the silence.

>>5337649
>>5337678
>>5337912
>>5337923

Larry did an amazing job distracting Cass. You lurked from the silent breadth, sneaking behind her with your breath short. You lunged your hands forward, grabbing onto Cass's rubber-like body from behind, one hand on her neck and the other around her pseudo-stomach. You did it with no force, but your hands still felt the impact with your muscles jittering like -you- were the one made out of jelly. Your hands groped around her oil-thickened skin, hampering your efforts.

You pulled Cass away from Larry. Her weight was comparable to puff, yet it … was not. You found yourself collapsing on the rough floor, with Cass on top of you. Despite the facts, despite all you could feel and touch, she was heavier. She was like soup you had to bring only using your hands, and your hands were freezing.

A deaf echo wormed through your skull as you hit the back of your head against the waxed hardwood. You raised your head only to Cass’s slushy backside slap your face and bounce it back, repeating it once more.

Maybe you shouldn’t have tried to grab her, you thought, pain pounding through your head like a bell. It did not linger too long.

Cass thrust up, outlines of her body bubbling and reforming into inhumane shapes. Below the knee, her legs softened and then turned semi-liquid, twisting into multiple roots, coating your legs with intangible slime. Her neck was unturned, instead, her orbs sunk into her gelatinous head and then reappeared from the other side, looking at you.

She hung above you, her face empty of even her monstrous eyelids, cloudy hair or empty lips. Your legs were chained by her tendrils. Despite how light she felt, you could not lift yourself. Your hands were free, for a while.

> Stay silent and watch what Cass will do next.
> Apologize to Cass and tell her that you were just trying to bring her back.
> Call Mary for help with what air remains in your lungs.
> Throw a punch to try and push Cass, or at least show her you won’t act passively.
> Point at Larry the goldfish and tell Cass that you were worried she would eat him.
> [Write In]

>>5339729

> Point at Larry the goldfish and tell Cass that you were worried she would eat him.
> Tell her that you were just trying to bring her back.

H-hey, don't make me get rough with you, doll!

>>5339729
> Apologize to Cass and tell her that you were just trying to bring her back.

> Stay silent and watch what Cass will do next.

I vote for cower in fear.

>>5339729

> Point at Larry the goldfish and tell Cass that you were worried she would eat him.
> Tell her that you were just trying to bring her back.

File: [Picture 2].png (31 KB, 584x606)

31 KB PNG

>>5339779
>>5340272
>>5340366
>>5340369

With fruitless intentions, you pushed yourself onto another trounce. You stared into her bottomless eyes, shuddering.

“I was trying to bring you back,” you said, waving your hands at the door, “My sister is going to help us: me and you!”

Features, lacking on her face seconds before, retook their form. She blinked. Her petite toothless mouth opened to little avail.

Shaking your head, and trying your darn hardest to clear yourself of Cass—no use—you gestured at the fish’s bowl. Cass’s head twisted to follow your hand, her neck coiling like a corkscrew. Larry treaded the waters of his home without fear, paddling near the wide glassy layers of the bowl. Larry waded past the decorative Statue of Liberty; watching Cass and you, he came to a stop to open and close his mouth. Cass freed you from the restraints of her weightless body, lifting herself and reshaping her tendrils into refashioned tootsies yards away from your legs.

“H-hey, don't make me get rough with you, doll!” you said as she approached the bowl. “I was just worried that you would eat him, my fi—”

And so she did, mangling the fish bowl with her slippery hands. She raised it to her visage, her fingers bending upside down and back to hold it. From her mouth on each side emerged a pair of lips of similar tiny size and gooeyness, devouring the greyish water of the bowl with thirsting slurps. Larry was unspared, slipping from his now-empty dwelling of two years into her.

No, Larry. No!

You tossed yourself at the monstrous fish-eater: the malicious washout. You bounced back off her, this time keeping yourself standing straight. Pissed off, you lunged at her again. You stopped midway. Larry, unharmed and undigested, made his way through Cass’s gelatinous body, through her coloured head and neck and chest until he found solace below her pronounced stomach. You let out a sigh of relief, your eyes darting from her to your friend.

Like winter breath, the sparkling clouds of white half-trailed behind Larry before vanishing into the deep orange of Cass's body. As you stepped to question, your goldfish spoke first, a glutinous bubble forming from Larry's mouth and above his eyes, no bigger than each of them. The small bubble rippled from up her chest and then into one of Cass’s mouths, leaving her alien throat and narrow mouth like the one she made, with similar symbols.

> Pick the fish bowl and visit the kitchen to fill it with water. Point at it and imply that Cass returns Larry back to the fish bowl.
> Shrug your shoulders and let Larry chill out inside(!) of Cass (the damn traitor!). Wave your hand for the alien to follow you to Mary.
> Pick the fish bowl and stab it into Cass’s stomach with the top edge of it. Hopefully, you can gather the slimy liquid and Larry in one sweep! You have to rescue your friend!
> [Write In]

>>5341128
>> Pick the fish bowl and visit the kitchen to fill it with water. Point at it and imply that Cass returns Larry back to the fish bowl.

File: default_bat-warthog-man.jpg (8 KB, 210x240)

8 KB JPG

>>5341128
> Pick the fish bowl and visit the kitchen to fill it with water. Point at it and imply that Cass returns Larry back to the fish bowl.

She stole our friend! Give him back!

> Shrug your shoulders and let Larry chill out inside(!) of Cass (the damn traitor!). Wave your hand for the alien to follow you to Mary.

As long as he's happy

Update tomorrow.

>>5341142
>>5341150
>>5341237

You pushed past Cass to grab the bowl before she would stumble and shatter it. You waved the bowl down, her eyes watching it as if anchored. She hounded you from behind, her bottom half reshaped back to resemble the legs of a human gal. You walked past her and onto the kitchen floor, filling the fish bowl to the brim with water. You lowered your lips to slurp the tap water: no hair of a dog but it was at least -something- to clench the darn thirst.

Cass waddled to the enamelled sink, absent of lustre and with a distinct baked smell, and leaned her whole face to the faucet. You turned off the tap. Cass bobbed her head; she soon realized the absence of water. Her side mouths bubbled into a long thin line, staring up at you with sullenness. Her fingers wormed around the metal tap to pull and twist at it with boneless slipperiness.

“Spit out Larry back into the fish bowl,” you said. You rolled your eyes and pointed at the bowl in the sink, then at Larry inside her.

Cass struggled a while more with the faucet before she gave you a response. She stared at the filled bowl inside of the sink. Her—now singular—lips opened and closed before letting go of the tap. She swayed around and walked out of the room without a gesture.

“You creep! Wait!” you cried, rushing to catch her before she would disappear again. If Mary heard your yell … she damn better.

Cass oozed into the bathroom, not far from where Larry’s fish bowl originally was. She stopped in front of the enormous and deep cast iron bathtub, many ages ago polished in almond paint. It was troublesome to gather enough hot water the fill the damn thing, so troublesome only Mary had the time and nerves to bother once in a blue moon. You used the showerhead above it, from time to time.

“I am regretting not telling that weirdo about you.” You came to the tube: to the right side of her. She struggled with this tap too.

> Find a plug to stop the drain and then turn the tap to fill the bathtub … this is what she wants, isn’t it?
> Push Cass from behind into the bathtub and then turn on the water through the showerhead to cool her off. Who knows, perhaps this will make her less rubbery, or even easier to manhandle.
> Put the fishbowl into the bathtub and point in it. Return. Larry. Back!
> [Write in]

File: Spoiler Image (191 KB, 512x604)

191 KB PNG

Yes, that bathtub does smell of gin/alcohol.

What would you like to see in the next thread in the information section?

>>5343696

> Turn on the shower head and see how she reacts. Does she want the water itself? Or is she looking to fill the tub?

It ended badly the last time we tried to forced Cass around.

>>5343696
> Turn on the shower head and see how she reacts. Does she want the water itself? Or is she looking to fill the tub?

> Put the fishbowl into the bathtub and point in it. Return. Larry. Back!

>>5344354
> Turn on the shower head and see how she reacts. Does she want the water itself? Or is she looking to fill the tub?

> Put the fishbowl into the bathtub and point in it. Return. Larry. Back!

Seconding this pair

>>5343696
> Turn on the shower head and see how she reacts. Does she want the water itself? Or is she looking to fill the tub?

>>5343720
>>5344354
>>5344659
>>5344660

You lowered the fishbowl into the bathtub and then motioned both of your open hands to it for Cass to see. Return. Larry. Back!

Cass’s large eyeballs were formed in a kinked squint. You sighed: she probably did not even understand the meaning of an exasperated sigh. You turned on the showerhead instead of the faucet, creating a shoddy rain. It fell upon the cast iron, the thick glass, and into the water which soon overflowed the fish bowl, drumming a loud clamour. The night air began to fill with the shower’s cold moisture.

Cass was unmoving, she watched the imitative drizzle with her rubbery lips closed. You shut off the tap and switched the flow to the faucet, starting it after plugging the drain. The water was on the colder side. Once the bathtub was half-full, you stopped it.

“That should be enough,” you said, raising your head to face her. It seemed it was enough for her too: Cass lowered her palms to her stomach, waiting as Larry paddled closer to her hands, now the same part of her jellied body as her balloon chest. She cradled Larry into her blended hands and after, held them up high above the bathtub. Her hands began to moisten; with a splash, your pet fish fell into the lukewarm water below. Cass broke apart her hands only to bring them back and melt them into her hips. Larry emerges—he opened and closed his mouth to blabber, and, as if, to soundlessly converse with the cryptid beside you. Traitor.

“I don’t have a way to keep this much water clean. I can’t filter it like this, or pump it, or keep it the needed temperature, and I can’t —” You looked at Cass who was ignoring your words, preferring instead to lean on the rounded sides of the tub and watch Larry.

You ran your hand through your greying hair: the way they did in the movies. Even if, and that’s a big if, it made Larry happier, you couldn’t afford a bigger space for him. Sure, he would survive in a bathtub for a week or so, but then you’d need to return him back.

> Unplug the sink and imply to Cass it is between Larry living in her body or the fish bowl.
> You did as Cass asked, now it is her turn. Call her out to follow you into the family room to meet Mary. Leave Larry be, for now.
> Unplug the sink, pick up Larry, and then place him into the fish bowl. If Cass tried to argue, explain, and get your hands wet.
> [Write In]

>>5344754
> You did as Cass asked, now it is her turn. Call her out to follow you into the family room to meet Mary. Leave Larry be, for now.
By the time we need to get Larry back to his bowl, Sippy here will either be out of our hair or hopefully at least better able to understand us.

>>5344754
>> You did as Cass asked, now it is her turn. Call her out to follow you into the family room to meet Mary. Leave Larry be, for now.

>>5344802
>>5344853

Larry is a strong one, he’d be able to survive for a few days in there. By the time you would need to get Larry back to his bowl, Cass here would be out of your hair. You did as Cass asked, now it was her turn. You opened the door and, licking your lips, you whistled out loud, startling the alien and maybe your sister awake as well. You motioned your head, you waved your arm. “Follow me, you non’looker.”

Cold moisture stuck to Cass’s skin like morning dew. She floundered on her two gams—sleek and long and faux—to approach you. From her kisser surfaced a shiny bubble, but it popped before you could take a good look at it. She drank a lot.

You entered the family room and, this time, you persuaded Cass to come along. She took notice of the tree log that was Mary’s pie-eyed body and the bottles of clashing waters; dear mother told you not to mix whiskey with gin or with beer, but she never got to live during Prohibition. Amid your brown study, Cass moved at the side of you. She tossed off, clanged, and rolled the bottles with movements as flaccid as a wet shoelace.

Mary tightly shut her eyes, mumbling your name with annoyance. She opened them soon, and discovered Cass in all her alien beauty, with the cryptid’s hands hovering above her head. Mary’s turned pale. As if an experienced boxer, she lifted her hands to cover her head, retaliating against and confusing the alien visitor. Within a short breath, she threw her elbows and her head at Cass. She got tossed back, her body smashing the couch and tumbling it onto the ground with her with a loud crash. Cass stood bewildered.

“Calm down, Mary. That thing -is- the alien gal I told you about!”

“Elm’, what in the world? Are you trying to spook me? Tell her not to approach me like that!”

“Like what?”

“With a mask!”

“It’s not a mask, Mary.” You shook your head at Cass. Do not do anything more, you implied. “She’s not a human.”

“I thought you meant an illegal immigrant or something,” she said, “ … Is she gone yet?”

“Of course she’s not, I need you to help me do that: get rid of her, and also, watch your heart.”

“Maybe you can bring the pills.” You heard her voice, but Mary still hid behind the tossed-over couch. “Elm’, real, what the heck is it?”

> Approach to help your sister stand up.
> Make sure to keep Cass away from Mary.
> Stand away and let Cass and Mary handle it between them.
> [Write In]

> “She appeared an hour ago in my room, and a strange man in a suit was looking for her.”
> “Don’t worry about what she is, or where she comes from, just tell me what you think we should do.”
> “You said you know someone who can hide a body, let’s do that. We can’t keep her in our house.”
> [Write In]

>>5345655
> Make sure to keep Cass away from Mary.
> “Don’t worry about what she is, or where she comes from, just tell me what you think we should do.”

>>5345655
>> Make sure to keep Cass away from Mary.
>> “Don’t worry about what she is, or where she comes from, just tell me what you think we should do.”

>>5345655
> Stand away and let Cass and Mary handle it between them.
> “Don’t worry about what she is, or where she comes from, just tell me what you think we should do.”

>>5345655
> Stand away and let Cass and Mary handle it between them.
> “Don’t worry about what she is, or where she comes from, just tell me what you think we should do.

Rolled 2 (1d2)

>>5345861
>>5345863
> Make sure to keep Cass away from Mary.

>>5346062
>>5346189
> Stand away and let Cass and Mary handle it between them.

>>5345861
>>5345863
>>5346062
>>5346189

You kept both Mary and Cass at a safe distance; you trusted your sister to be as capable as you to deal with the creepy acquaintance.

“You ran out of your pills weeks ago,” you answered. You approached a large cabinet with units both closed under lock and exposed openly. You searched for the key. Damn, where had you put it? You could not remember. “Don’t worry about what she is, or where she comes from, Mary," you said.

Mary nudged her head from the couch’s wall-like guard. Cass hadn’t bothered at all to lower her hands. Mary rocked herself back, rolling like a malformed ball—not in the bee’s knees way she imagined. She tossed herself up, her hands tightened into fists and her body wobbling. With gruff, she said, “Don’t worry? You kidding? What was it trying to do to me, Elm’? Eat my head? Eat my brain?”

“Not your brain for sure.” You knelt, moving your hand on the dusty floor underneath the cabinet: the key was not there either. “She somehow sobers you up, that’s what she did to me, more than once.” You glared at Cass, “It’s not lovely when she does it.”

“She?” Mary’s fists lowered to have her eyes, grey like yours but with present flecks of blue, gaze into Cass’s abyss of deep black. “You are right, she -does- look like a woman, barely. How come?” Mary’s glance crept to you but flung back to Cass.

“I did not, she did it on her own, probably to fit in,” you said. “Just tell me what you think we should do?”

Mary, as drunk as she was, sidestepped from the unmoving alien. “Just toss her out of the house? Not out problem.”

“Well, it’s easy to ‘toss her out', and then there’s that fella who would get suspicious about our house if he spots her here.”

After a rough and tiring minute, Mary sighed. “I might know a dame who can help us get rid of her, and be happy about it.”

You thanked God for, sometimes, very rarely, once in twenty years, helping you out. “And who is she?”

Mary circled the guest-of-dishonour, “Don’t ask that. I don’t ask about your friends, you don’t ask about mine.” When Cass made a step, Mary backtracked, “You might want to dress her up a bit, having a yellow blob as large as you Elm’ sitting in the back of the car will look hinky.” She looked at Cass, her gaze was dark and delayed. “I am going to doll up myself, too. I’ll let you handle it, as it looks like you know how to handle the thing.”

“Doll up?" Then why was she going to the bathroom?” Her hair was shorter than yours and cropped to emphasise such shortness. She was brown-haired and the greyness spared her. You drank and cheered the whole evening, but it did little to harm the thick glossy layer of pricey Brilliantine.

“And brush up your hair,” she yelled from another room, “it’s not often I go out with you into the city.”

“Mary, it’s the middle of the night! Nobody is going to see us.”

Her tongue clicked like a gun. “Compostela is like a star, Elm’: it burns whether you are there to see it or not.”

> Why in the world should you gift clothes to Cass? Let her be naked, and simply drop down if anyone approaches.
> Pick up clothes for Cass from your wardrobe.
> Pick clothes for Cass from Mary’s wardrobe; it was her idea after all.
> [Write In]

> Pick a bottle of aged whiskey of your own making in case you’ll need it. Hide it in the car well.
> Pick a bottle of real McCoy, not a bootleg but a real one, a real whiskey transited from the borders of Canada.
> Pick a gun, a revolver, model who&knowns, in case you’ll need it. Or should you? You only have one, and you need one at home.
> [Write In]

>>5346865
> Pick up clothes for Cass from your wardrobe.
> Pick a gun, a revolver, model who&knowns, in case you’ll need it. Or should you? You only have one, and you need one at home.

Bigger clothes will probably work better, and it's not like we're going to throw away the gun.

>>5346865
> Pick clothes for Cass from Mary’s wardrobe; it was her idea after all.
> Pick a bottle of real McCoy, not a bootleg but a real one, a real whiskey transited from the borders of Canada.
> Pick a gun, a revolver, model who&knowns, in case you’ll need it. Or should you? You only have one, and you need one at home.

Rolled 2 (1d2)

>>5346967
> Pick up clothes for Cass from your wardrobe.

>>5347021
> Pick clothes for Cass from Mary’s wardrobe; it was her idea after all.

>>5346967
>>5347021

>>5348054
New Thread, thanks for playing so far.