- Invitation Status
- Looking for partners
- Posting Speed
- Multiple posts per day
- One post per day
- Multiple posts per week
- 1-3 posts per week
- One post per week
- Online Availability
- I work 10 hours days 4 1/2 days of the week as a vet tech. Some days I come home and just fall straight to bed after a long day, but others I'll come on. I also compete in obedience competitions with my dog, so a lot of my time is spent training with him. The weekends and Mondays are my best days to be on.
- Writing Levels
- Intermediate
- Adept
- Advanced
- Adaptable
- Preferred Character Gender
- Male
- Female
- Primarily Prefer Female
- Genres
- Modern, Slice of Life, Medieval, Romance, Action, Adventure, Animal fiction (not anthros or furries), a little bit of Fantasy
"I think it makes them more raw, or real, like you said," Hayden said as she reached out and took the scenic photo from Jackson's hands as he passed it over to her. She turned the photo over and examined it, smiling as she turned her head to look out at the actual view. The picture certainly did no justice for what she was actually looking at--with all of the yellow, green, and red lights that beaned off of buildings and illuminated the sky while billboards blinked their lights to grabbed people's attention, some even having large lights outlining into images of big breasted women and some even having men on there. The lights on the cars continued to travel down the road slowly, some a shallow blue, while others a bright white. When comparing the real sight to the photo, the picture looked dull, not nearly as clear or as bright as a phone or camera lenses could have made the sight look.
But... Maybe that was why it made the photo hanging in front of her more authentic.
"There's no editing or filters slapped onto the picture to contort the look to make it look different. But that's what I like about it."
She was grabbed out of her musings as the waiter came back to their table with a tray of food balancing in one hand. Figuring that she would create a caption for the photo later, she set it, along with the sharpie, off to the side and sat back in her chair to let her food--a plate filled with a roasted chicken topped with tarragon sauce, mushroom torchon, and sauteed fall greens--be placed in front of her. Oh, and here she thought she dishes she made herself and had seen the head chef at the restaurant she worked at made were aesthetically pleasing; they were nothing compared to this! Or, at least, that was what she believed as she stared down at the food, almost in disbelief, almost thinking to herself that she didn't want to eat the perfection that sat right in front of her.
But her stomach had other ideas in mind. Besides, she refused to let any of this food go to waste. It was a common sight to see pounds of food being wasted on a daily basis at the restaurant by people not finishing their meals and taking them home for left overs, and just by them not using all of the products that would go to waste within a day since the owner refused to use product that was over a day old for fear that the customers would be able to tell that the product wasn't 'fresh' enough for their liking. It was disgusting really; there were homeless, starving people who would be thankful for the food, yet all the owner wanted to do was throw the unused and still good food away because he didn't think any food banks would use their food anyway.
"You're tellin' me," she said, still struck with a sense of awe as the waiter walked off and wished them a good meal. Where to start? Which food should she begin with to savor and experience the flavors that would inevitably overtake her mouth and taste buds? During her thinking, however, she only half listened to the last bit of what Jackson had to say, her eyes finally veering off from her food to look at the man who was, essentially, making all of this possible for her. "Yes, but you're forgetting one thing about me: I'm not rich."
After a short snort and the shake of her head, Hayden grabbed her utensils and decided to start getting into her food before it cooled off too quickly. She decided to start with her chicken, the tenderness of the meat allowing her to cut into it with ease as the sauce pooled onto the plate, mixing with the mushroom torchon--something that she wasn't upset about. "Well, bottoms up." When she took the bite of the food, she couldn't help but close her eyes and smile, a content sigh, or near moan, grumbling from her throat. "Oh my God, this is so much better than what I had for lunch!"
But... Maybe that was why it made the photo hanging in front of her more authentic.
"There's no editing or filters slapped onto the picture to contort the look to make it look different. But that's what I like about it."
She was grabbed out of her musings as the waiter came back to their table with a tray of food balancing in one hand. Figuring that she would create a caption for the photo later, she set it, along with the sharpie, off to the side and sat back in her chair to let her food--a plate filled with a roasted chicken topped with tarragon sauce, mushroom torchon, and sauteed fall greens--be placed in front of her. Oh, and here she thought she dishes she made herself and had seen the head chef at the restaurant she worked at made were aesthetically pleasing; they were nothing compared to this! Or, at least, that was what she believed as she stared down at the food, almost in disbelief, almost thinking to herself that she didn't want to eat the perfection that sat right in front of her.
But her stomach had other ideas in mind. Besides, she refused to let any of this food go to waste. It was a common sight to see pounds of food being wasted on a daily basis at the restaurant by people not finishing their meals and taking them home for left overs, and just by them not using all of the products that would go to waste within a day since the owner refused to use product that was over a day old for fear that the customers would be able to tell that the product wasn't 'fresh' enough for their liking. It was disgusting really; there were homeless, starving people who would be thankful for the food, yet all the owner wanted to do was throw the unused and still good food away because he didn't think any food banks would use their food anyway.
"You're tellin' me," she said, still struck with a sense of awe as the waiter walked off and wished them a good meal. Where to start? Which food should she begin with to savor and experience the flavors that would inevitably overtake her mouth and taste buds? During her thinking, however, she only half listened to the last bit of what Jackson had to say, her eyes finally veering off from her food to look at the man who was, essentially, making all of this possible for her. "Yes, but you're forgetting one thing about me: I'm not rich."
After a short snort and the shake of her head, Hayden grabbed her utensils and decided to start getting into her food before it cooled off too quickly. She decided to start with her chicken, the tenderness of the meat allowing her to cut into it with ease as the sauce pooled onto the plate, mixing with the mushroom torchon--something that she wasn't upset about. "Well, bottoms up." When she took the bite of the food, she couldn't help but close her eyes and smile, a content sigh, or near moan, grumbling from her throat. "Oh my God, this is so much better than what I had for lunch!"