thismaskiwear: (BUNNY)
So one minute there'd been an attempt at actually, finally sucking it up, saying 'the hell with it,' and kissing Francine until she couldn't breathe as a prelude to other things that . . . would have a definite impact on breathing.

And then she'd been small, and fuzzy, with floppy ears, and NOT ADORABLE, DAMMIT.

Katchoo had been keeping up quite the mental rant about this in her head ever since it had happened, but being a bunny she couldn't exactly express it in her usual oh-so-charming way. Chewing on things, maybe, vented some of the frustration but she had a lot more of that built up than this tiny lapine form should have room to hold.

. . . that rant was still going, no matter how comfortable she was at the particular moment.

[OOC: For that girl. NOT YOU, RAVEN. ETA: This post might be kinda NWS now. WHAT?]
thismaskiwear: (Go Away I'm Sulking)
Look, it had been years since Katchoo had lived in Chicago. You'd think she'd be getting acclimated to Fandom weather by now, but Houston to Los Angeles to Hana, Hawaii left enough of an impression that the necessity of staying indoors in winter still chafed.

Because of course that was the only reason she'd be sitting on her bed, slouched against the wall, frustrated and slightly irritable and taking occasional breaks from wearing out pencils in her sketchbook to flick small paper balls at Clocky, right?

Or glance warily at her phone, as if daring it to beep at her with voicemail again so she could have an excuse to throw it out the window, right?

Right.

[OOC: Not so much with the open. For the roomie/BFFpersonthing, up early BECAUSE I CAN SO THERE.]
thismaskiwear: (OMFGWTFaspdfuasdfa)
Katchoo had been all but abducted from the radio station by, of all things, aggressively attacking holiday baked goods. Well, not attacking exactly, but the small army of fruitcakes had been in no way about to leave her alone, and now she got to add "frogmarched through the streets away from the radio station by a horde of that Christmas gift nobody wants" to her list of bizarre life experiences.

She got away from the fruitcakes eventually, but now she was holed up in what you could generously call a small cramped cave, fending them off with a long stick, hoping they'd just go the hell away soon. Emphasis on hoping; little bastards were persistent, and she was freezing.

By the time they finally did give up, or just disappear (frikkin' Fandom), she was so horribly cramped it took a long time to extricate herself from her hiding place, a long time to work out the cramps so she could actually walk, and a lot of creative swearing all through the process. And she had to work in -- according to the time on her watch when she checked it in the flickering firelight of her Zippo -- six hours.

Fan-frikkin'-tastic.

[OOC: Establishy. Mwahahaha.]
thismaskiwear: (Sleeping)
Katchoo didn't even wait to get out of bed, most mornings, before the smoking started. Today wasn't any different, since today more than anything she just wanted to stay there. She'd have loved to pretend the last few days hadn't happened, but she'd hit maximum denial capacity apparently.

So, denial not an option, she lay staring up at the ceiling, not giving a damn about the ashes drifting to the floor from the cigarette dangling from her hand and severely annoyed that she did still give a damn about a couple of other things. The sketchbook she'd had on Thursday lay open on the nightstand and was now completely filled up with drawings, some of them rough renderings and others more thoroughly fleshed out and shaded, all of them looking a lot like Francine.

[OOC: Post is for sooooooomebody.]

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thismaskiwear: (Default)
Katina Choovanski

November 2011

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