- 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.
Morgan lived a quiet life in a quiet apartment, with a quiet job in a quiet cubicle, until her grandfather passed away after a long fight with cancer. He left her some farmland and a little money, but she thought nothing of it until she began to notice things around her becoming strange. Doors came unlocked that she'd locked while going to get groceries. Her purse was moved to the wrong end of the bed. Her mail was sorted alphabetically by sender. Even her furniture seemed off when she went to sit, but her rear end landed on the arm of the chair instead of the chair itself.
She became nervous, and then she became scared, and then she began to see unfamiliar faces following her that nobody else seemed to notice. Everything came to a head when she saw those same people at her grandfather's funeral, watching her.
That night, she packed up and went to the land her grandfather left her, desperately seeking peace, and there she found... a run-down farmhouse and overgrown fields.
Over the next few weeks, she worked hard on the house and fields, and by the time May came, she had the house in working order, moved into it, cobbled together a chicken coop, and managed to get a few seeds growing in part of a reclaimed field, but every night, she fell onto her bed and slept in her clothes.
The day began under great protest from the young woman who recently moved into the decrepit farmhouse. The alarm clock was horrible. Breakfast was horrible. Watering the 'crops' before dawn was horrible. Chopping a tree was horrible. Painstakingly digging up the roots was similarly horrible. The only thing that went easily was feeding the chickens and stealing their eggs away from them.
Finally, the sun began to sink, and Morgan gave the field a small shower from the hose before she walked into her house and slipped out of her boots at the door. As she walked to the bedroom, she glanced briefly at the mini-fridge and microwave across from the bed, then grimaced as she flicked on a light and reached for a book as she fell onto the bed.
Her overalls dug into her freckled and sore back. She lifted the book over her head and stared at it, and the words began to swim before her eyes as her arms trembled.
[BCOLOR=#808080]| Potato plants do best in soil with...[/BCOLOR]
A number, and then... Ascorbancy? Was that even a word? She leaned her head forward and stared at the page until the word 'acidity' became clear.
A creak woke her long before she wanted to rise, and she grunted as she pushed herself up onto hands and knees from her usual sleeping position on her belly.
"Nnhuh?" She scowled down at her pillow as her mind tried to catch up to what she'd heard before she started to lay back down, too tired to care if she ended up murdered during the night.
She became nervous, and then she became scared, and then she began to see unfamiliar faces following her that nobody else seemed to notice. Everything came to a head when she saw those same people at her grandfather's funeral, watching her.
That night, she packed up and went to the land her grandfather left her, desperately seeking peace, and there she found... a run-down farmhouse and overgrown fields.
Over the next few weeks, she worked hard on the house and fields, and by the time May came, she had the house in working order, moved into it, cobbled together a chicken coop, and managed to get a few seeds growing in part of a reclaimed field, but every night, she fell onto her bed and slept in her clothes.
⋯﴾⛧﴿⋯
The day began under great protest from the young woman who recently moved into the decrepit farmhouse. The alarm clock was horrible. Breakfast was horrible. Watering the 'crops' before dawn was horrible. Chopping a tree was horrible. Painstakingly digging up the roots was similarly horrible. The only thing that went easily was feeding the chickens and stealing their eggs away from them.
Finally, the sun began to sink, and Morgan gave the field a small shower from the hose before she walked into her house and slipped out of her boots at the door. As she walked to the bedroom, she glanced briefly at the mini-fridge and microwave across from the bed, then grimaced as she flicked on a light and reached for a book as she fell onto the bed.
Her overalls dug into her freckled and sore back. She lifted the book over her head and stared at it, and the words began to swim before her eyes as her arms trembled.
[BCOLOR=#808080]| Potato plants do best in soil with...[/BCOLOR]
A number, and then... Ascorbancy? Was that even a word? She leaned her head forward and stared at the page until the word 'acidity' became clear.
⋯﴾⛧﴿⋯
A creak woke her long before she wanted to rise, and she grunted as she pushed herself up onto hands and knees from her usual sleeping position on her belly.
"Nnhuh?" She scowled down at her pillow as her mind tried to catch up to what she'd heard before she started to lay back down, too tired to care if she ended up murdered during the night.