- Invitation Status
- Looking for partners
- Posting Speed
- 1-3 posts per day
- Multiple posts per week
- Online Availability
- It varies wildly.
- Writing Levels
- Advanced
- Prestige
- Preferred Character Gender
- Male
- Nonbinary
- Primarily Prefer Female
- Genres
- I'm open to a wide range of genres. Obscenely wide. It's harder for me to list all I do like than all I don't like.
My favorite settings are fantasy combined with something else, multiverse, post-apoc, historical (mixed with something else), and futuristic. I'm not limited to those, but it's a good start.
My favorite genres include mystery, adventure, action, drama, tragedy (must be mixed with something else and kept balanced), romance (again must be mixed, and more.
I'm happy to include elements of slice-of-life and romance, but doing them on their own doesn't hold my interest indefinitely.
The sun rose in the east and an old man stood behind his house. A chicken clucked quietly beside one of his feet, and he watched that distant Eastern sky. Even with the hedge and trees the surrounded his home and part of his fields, the colors of the sky shifted beautifully just above. And ran a hand through his short hair and smiled.
"Pretty morning, Paul. Warm and beautiful. Just enough clouds to make the sunrise look nice. I'm getting energetic just thinking of all that I can get done today." He rolled his shoulders, then grimaced.
The bird looked up at him with a cluck.
"Never mind it. Just my shoulder." He forced a grin despite gritted teeth, and the bird stared a few moments, then stabbed her beak against his bare foot and pinched hard. "Gods damn—! Paul, I am going to fry you!"
The bird fluffed her feathers and settled in for a nap.
"I should get a real dog. They don't punish me for enjoying my farm."
Paul clucked sleepily in response, and the old man growled and limped into the kitchen. His newly-acquired bruise would turn positively lovely by noon. The man scratched at his head with well-calloused hands and walked into the house followed by Paul, only to slam the door in the chicken's face.
The bird's next sounds scolded at him, but And simply cracked a pair of eggs into a preheated cast iron skillet and began to cook them, then added another and some milk before he began to slide his wooden spatula about, pulling the cooked egg from the bottom and scrambling it.
"You're a cannibalistic chicken and this is your punishment for getting an attitude! Just because I have one little ache is not reason to give me another one!"
He cooked quickly, then laid some egg onto a thin, white plate to cool and took a larger, matching plate to the table and ate cautiously. He blew on each bite until it stopped steaming, then popped it into his mouth. "Mm, oh, Paul, this is soooo good!"
The bird stared, as though betrayed on the deepest level: not because And was eating her eggs, but because he wasn't sharing.
When And left the house, he took the small plate and placed it on the ground. "Did you think I wouldn't feed you at all? I'm not that mean, dumb bird."
Paul began to eat contentedly.
The old man pulled on his boots as he rested on the back step, then took off to the barn. "Hurt foot and shoulder or not, I need to milk and turn the cows out. May I do that much, your majesty?"
Paul ignored him.
"Fine, then."
When And returned from tending the cows and checking the fields, which looked fine enough for now, he limped back to the house. "I suppose... a quiet day wouldn't hurt."
The bird puffed her feathers as she hopped into the house ahead of And, and he paused to pick up her plate.
"Should have plucked you with your sisters." Despite the muttering, he smiled fondly at the hen.
"Pretty morning, Paul. Warm and beautiful. Just enough clouds to make the sunrise look nice. I'm getting energetic just thinking of all that I can get done today." He rolled his shoulders, then grimaced.
The bird looked up at him with a cluck.
"Never mind it. Just my shoulder." He forced a grin despite gritted teeth, and the bird stared a few moments, then stabbed her beak against his bare foot and pinched hard. "Gods damn—! Paul, I am going to fry you!"
The bird fluffed her feathers and settled in for a nap.
"I should get a real dog. They don't punish me for enjoying my farm."
Paul clucked sleepily in response, and the old man growled and limped into the kitchen. His newly-acquired bruise would turn positively lovely by noon. The man scratched at his head with well-calloused hands and walked into the house followed by Paul, only to slam the door in the chicken's face.
The bird's next sounds scolded at him, but And simply cracked a pair of eggs into a preheated cast iron skillet and began to cook them, then added another and some milk before he began to slide his wooden spatula about, pulling the cooked egg from the bottom and scrambling it.
"You're a cannibalistic chicken and this is your punishment for getting an attitude! Just because I have one little ache is not reason to give me another one!"
He cooked quickly, then laid some egg onto a thin, white plate to cool and took a larger, matching plate to the table and ate cautiously. He blew on each bite until it stopped steaming, then popped it into his mouth. "Mm, oh, Paul, this is soooo good!"
The bird stared, as though betrayed on the deepest level: not because And was eating her eggs, but because he wasn't sharing.
When And left the house, he took the small plate and placed it on the ground. "Did you think I wouldn't feed you at all? I'm not that mean, dumb bird."
Paul began to eat contentedly.
The old man pulled on his boots as he rested on the back step, then took off to the barn. "Hurt foot and shoulder or not, I need to milk and turn the cows out. May I do that much, your majesty?"
Paul ignored him.
"Fine, then."
When And returned from tending the cows and checking the fields, which looked fine enough for now, he limped back to the house. "I suppose... a quiet day wouldn't hurt."
The bird puffed her feathers as she hopped into the house ahead of And, and he paused to pick up her plate.
"Should have plucked you with your sisters." Despite the muttering, he smiled fondly at the hen.