- 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.
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"Every-paw-dy wants to be a cat," the soft voice came from a white, long-haired cat, "Because a cat's the only cat that knoooows where it's at."
The feline slid to one side and puffed her chest as she purred.
"Tell me, everybody's pickin' up on that feline beat," another slide, "'Cause everything else is... obsolete!"
Her tail quirked as she bobbed her kitty booty side to side. Alone and aware of nobody else around her, she indulged her musical side while she waited for the arrival of the werewolves—her targets.
And so, the cat danced a quadrupedal dance as she sang to herself. The notes came slightly off-key, but the gusto with which she sang made up for it—to a small extent.
"A square with a horn / makes you wish you weren't born / every time he plays. But with a square in the act / you can set music back / to the caveman days!" She threw her head back as she finished the chorus and struck a pose. Ready to continue, she stepped forward into the next verse.
"I've heard some corny birds who tried to sing—" she let her throat open as she got more into the song she'd begun so idly, but stopped as she tasted blood in her mouth and closed it.
Large, yellow eyes crossed, and she looked down into her blind spot. Sure enough, a single drop of blood rested there. As she backed up, she found another.
"Damn," she cursed quietly as she sniffed up the blood and licked what had dripped, then darted for cover, choking on her own nosebleed as she gagged and flailed her tongue forward against her upper teeth, trying to scrape away the gaggy sensation as she huffed out her nose now that she wasn't downwind.
Once she hunkered down, ready to watch for the arrival of the wolves, she began to clean one of her paws and chew on the long fur between the pads, as though she'd not just choked herself.
The feline slid to one side and puffed her chest as she purred.
"Tell me, everybody's pickin' up on that feline beat," another slide, "'Cause everything else is... obsolete!"
Her tail quirked as she bobbed her kitty booty side to side. Alone and aware of nobody else around her, she indulged her musical side while she waited for the arrival of the werewolves—her targets.
And so, the cat danced a quadrupedal dance as she sang to herself. The notes came slightly off-key, but the gusto with which she sang made up for it—to a small extent.
"A square with a horn / makes you wish you weren't born / every time he plays. But with a square in the act / you can set music back / to the caveman days!" She threw her head back as she finished the chorus and struck a pose. Ready to continue, she stepped forward into the next verse.
"I've heard some corny birds who tried to sing—" she let her throat open as she got more into the song she'd begun so idly, but stopped as she tasted blood in her mouth and closed it.
Large, yellow eyes crossed, and she looked down into her blind spot. Sure enough, a single drop of blood rested there. As she backed up, she found another.
"Damn," she cursed quietly as she sniffed up the blood and licked what had dripped, then darted for cover, choking on her own nosebleed as she gagged and flailed her tongue forward against her upper teeth, trying to scrape away the gaggy sensation as she huffed out her nose now that she wasn't downwind.
Once she hunkered down, ready to watch for the arrival of the wolves, she began to clean one of her paws and chew on the long fur between the pads, as though she'd not just choked herself.
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Any moment now, she'd see them.
Any... moment...
Hidden in a picker-bush, the cat's eyes narrowed, then grew wide.
Her pupils dilated to circles with anticipation.
A buttwiggle signalled eagerness to pounce. Bloodthirsty, the angora cat waited with ears pricked and tail twitching.
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Two Weeks Later
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Two Weeks Later
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A woman stumbled forward. Her white hair stood out bright in the light of the recently-full moon and the street lights.
Half-dried blood pasted her ripped shirt to her body, and she walked with a limp. She could hear howls in the distance as the wolves discovered the treachery that allowed her to get free of the pack.
"Fuck," she cursed, the word enunciated despite her distress. She hurried forward still further, checking car doors with a hand that left a smudge behind.
Locked, locked, locked, locked, and locked.
Finally, she thought to look at the buildings.
An open window.
She stared for several moments before she climbed through, into a bathroom. Carefully, she used her elbow to ease the window shut again, wondering at the lack of a screen only briefly before a wave of nausea hit her.
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Morning discovered a white cat in a blood-smudged bathroom. Her hind leg, no longer broken, remained extended. Blood, twigs, and dirt clung to her coat as she laid sprawled on her side, chin flat against the bathtub's bottom.
She remained completely still aside from the subtle movements in her chest that offered reassurance that whatever strangeness happened during the night, the cat was still alive.
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