Euphony
Let It Be
Let’s make wishes by the well
Hello, how are you? I hope you’re doing well. Like many others, I’m here looking for some writing partners. Long-term or short-term, everyone is welcome!
Call me Euphony. I’m a student and a part-time worker. September back-to-school blues have me procrastinating so here I am.
I have a lot of passions revolving around art - writing, painting, photography, and music - just to name a few. I think story-telling is such a fulfilling endeavour so I came to role-playing. Outside of this, I casually play some video games and experiment with cooking and baking. There’s just something about food just brings people together!
But that’s enough about me, how about you? What sort of things do you enjoy? I’d love to hear, if you’re willing to share them with me. I’d be happy to make your acquaintance!
Call me Euphony. I’m a student and a part-time worker. September back-to-school blues have me procrastinating so here I am.
I have a lot of passions revolving around art - writing, painting, photography, and music - just to name a few. I think story-telling is such a fulfilling endeavour so I came to role-playing. Outside of this, I casually play some video games and experiment with cooking and baking. There’s just something about food just brings people together!
But that’s enough about me, how about you? What sort of things do you enjoy? I’d love to hear, if you’re willing to share them with me. I’d be happy to make your acquaintance!
I have coins enough for two
In terms of role-play, I hope you don’t mind the list. It’s easier to lay them out and structure my ramblings rather than have them all over. If you’ve got questions, feel free to ask.
Age: I’ve graduated high school - certainly not a minor. The number itself, I’d prefer to keep to myself. We have our secrets. Shh! But I’d write with anyone who’d have me.
Time-zone: Eastern/GMT-5, I’m around sporadically though. Having a consistent sleep schedule unfortunately isn’t my forte.
Writing Style: Novel-style, Multiple paragraphs and past-tense. I’ll leave a writing sample at the bottom.
Word Count: I aim for at least a page so that’s around 500 words, give or take, depending on my muse and schedule.
Level of Activity: Depends, There’s so many variables to life. I’d love to say that I can at least reply to you once a week. If not, I’ll let you know.
Interested Genres: Fantasy, Science-fiction/Science-fantasy, Modern/Realistic, Mystery, Adventure, and Romance. If you have something outside this genre you’d like to suggest, I’d gladly hear it.
Triggers: Animal abuse and most cases of domestic abuse/assault. I’m okay with integrating such events in terms of character history; however, I’m not a person who’s comfortable “role-playing/writing” those situations. I can take horror and dark elements, like Lovecraft and Poe. But explicit depictions of such violence and malicious intent - where the victim/assaulter dynamic is being played out between us - isn’t for me.
Pairings: Open, I’m open to play any gender or non-binary and I’m also open to relationships from familial to platonic, antagonistic to romantic.
Groups/Doubling: Open for small groups and yes to doubling. We can add more as we go.
World building/Plotting: Definitely, I like reading lore and coming up with it!
Character Sheets: Sure, I don’t require it personally for one on ones because I usually plot out things and relations with my partner, but if you’d like one then, I can write one for you.
Coding/Graphics: I can do things like this. I have no crazy coding skills, if you want to suggest a template, I’m open to it.
Communication: PMs please
Where to Post: I’m open to PMs, Threads, and GoogleDocs. I’d rather prefer to steer clear from social media/messenger RPs in Discord because it’s not as easy to format and edit. OOC in Discord is quite fine though.
Original or Fandom: I adore original plots because of the creative freedom to write about anything, but we can always include fandom elements as well.
For fandoms, I mostly prefer OCs to canons. I don’t mind if you’d like to play a canon character. If you’d like me to play a canon, just ask. I’ll try to portray them as best as I could as long as their muse is in my wheelhouse.
Time-zone: Eastern/GMT-5, I’m around sporadically though. Having a consistent sleep schedule unfortunately isn’t my forte.
Writing Style: Novel-style, Multiple paragraphs and past-tense. I’ll leave a writing sample at the bottom.
Word Count: I aim for at least a page so that’s around 500 words, give or take, depending on my muse and schedule.
Level of Activity: Depends, There’s so many variables to life. I’d love to say that I can at least reply to you once a week. If not, I’ll let you know.
Interested Genres: Fantasy, Science-fiction/Science-fantasy, Modern/Realistic, Mystery, Adventure, and Romance. If you have something outside this genre you’d like to suggest, I’d gladly hear it.
Triggers: Animal abuse and most cases of domestic abuse/assault. I’m okay with integrating such events in terms of character history; however, I’m not a person who’s comfortable “role-playing/writing” those situations. I can take horror and dark elements, like Lovecraft and Poe. But explicit depictions of such violence and malicious intent - where the victim/assaulter dynamic is being played out between us - isn’t for me.
Pairings: Open, I’m open to play any gender or non-binary and I’m also open to relationships from familial to platonic, antagonistic to romantic.
Groups/Doubling: Open for small groups and yes to doubling. We can add more as we go.
World building/Plotting: Definitely, I like reading lore and coming up with it!
Character Sheets: Sure, I don’t require it personally for one on ones because I usually plot out things and relations with my partner, but if you’d like one then, I can write one for you.
For descriptions, I don’t need pictures personally. Written descriptions for appearance are good. But if you’re a visual person and want to use art, realistic models, or anime/cartoons - those are all good with me!
Coding/Graphics: I can do things like this. I have no crazy coding skills, if you want to suggest a template, I’m open to it.
Communication: PMs please
Where to Post: I’m open to PMs, Threads, and GoogleDocs. I’d rather prefer to steer clear from social media/messenger RPs in Discord because it’s not as easy to format and edit. OOC in Discord is quite fine though.
Original or Fandom: I adore original plots because of the creative freedom to write about anything, but we can always include fandom elements as well.
For fandoms, I mostly prefer OCs to canons. I don’t mind if you’d like to play a canon character. If you’d like me to play a canon, just ask. I’ll try to portray them as best as I could as long as their muse is in my wheelhouse.
TV Shows/Movies: Sherlock, Westworld, Snowpiercer, The Walking Dead, Into the Badlands, The Haunting Series (on Netflix), The 100, The Umbrella Academy, The Boys, Invincible, MCU - Mostly Avengers, Good Omens
Anime: Avatar: The Last Airbender and Death Note.
Videogames: Fable, Skyrim, Devil May Cry, Assassin’s Creed, Dishonored, Hitman, Watch Dogs, Detroit: Become Human, Titanfall, Apex Legends, Red Dead Redemption, Uncharted, Far Cry, Tomb Raider, Left 4 Dead, Bioshock, Metro, Splinter Cell, Wolf Among Us, Harvest Moon, Stardew Valley, and Pokemon
Novels: Popular Picks - J.K. Rowling’s Harry Potter, James Patterson’s Maximum Ride, Suzanne Collin’s Hunger Games, James Dashner’s Maze Runner, Daniel Handler’s/Lemony Snicket’s A Series of Unfortunate Events, and Anthony Horowitz’s Alex Rider.
More obscure titles - Justina Ireland’s Dread Nation, Sabaa Tahir’s An Ember in the Ashes, Paolo Bacigalupi’s Ship Breaker, and Elizabeth Wein’s Code Name Verity
Anime: Avatar: The Last Airbender and Death Note.
Sorry for the short list, I’ve not quite fallen into the anime rabbit hole. But I’ll take suggestions. 
Videogames: Fable, Skyrim, Devil May Cry, Assassin’s Creed, Dishonored, Hitman, Watch Dogs, Detroit: Become Human, Titanfall, Apex Legends, Red Dead Redemption, Uncharted, Far Cry, Tomb Raider, Left 4 Dead, Bioshock, Metro, Splinter Cell, Wolf Among Us, Harvest Moon, Stardew Valley, and Pokemon
Novels: Popular Picks - J.K. Rowling’s Harry Potter, James Patterson’s Maximum Ride, Suzanne Collin’s Hunger Games, James Dashner’s Maze Runner, Daniel Handler’s/Lemony Snicket’s A Series of Unfortunate Events, and Anthony Horowitz’s Alex Rider.
More obscure titles - Justina Ireland’s Dread Nation, Sabaa Tahir’s An Ember in the Ashes, Paolo Bacigalupi’s Ship Breaker, and Elizabeth Wein’s Code Name Verity
Basically, I live for YA novels! I’m trying to branch out into more age appropriate books, but it’s turning out to be a slow transition. I think I’ll forever remain young at heart. 
One for me and one for you
Perhaps, I could entice you with some plots. If none suit your fancy, send me some plots of your own. We can always re-work on these together since nothing is purely set in stone.
Borrowed Time
- Tournament Style, Time Loops, Mystery
Inspired by The Hunger Games and all the time loop media I’ve consumed (Groundhog Day, Russian Doll, and 12 Minutes)
Set in a dystopian future where civilization has been split in half, an annual tournament is held to help the less fortunate ascend their status in society. Those holding the tournament for sport, The Immortals, have been biologically enhanced beyond the point of degradation. They can basically live infinitely and so they indulge in splendour and luxury. The select few participants, The Ashes, have come from the other side of society where humans are still plagued by their biological condition. They chose to (or have been born into) a part of the world where people still suffer from famine and disease. Their life was spent serving under the elite. Sometimes even becoming fodder for spare organs or body parts. They were, as their name suggests, as disposable as ashes to the wind.
Unbeknownst to the participants, the moment they enter the tournament is also the moment they enter a time loop. Since the rules suggest that it is elimination by death. Each participant must either hunt or survive the round to progress further in the tournament. As a result, for each time they die, they get resurrected to the beginning of the tournament. After all, the Immortals have an eternity to spend trying to seek their fun entertainment.
Fortunately for the participants, an oracle heralds the news that it would be the last tournament that the Immortals would ever host. The one clue that they had was that in order to break the cycle, they have to figure out the mystery of eternity behind The Immortal’s game. However, will they be able to set aside their own motivations to work together as a group? Or will the lure of ascending to Immortal status be too much to pass up, especially since, it’s their last chance?
Token
- Friendship, Modern, Light-hearted
What happens when an imaginary friend comes to life? Well, they get “retired”. It’s the nice way of putting it. Imaginary friends operate in a spectrum that isn’t usually visible to the human eye. In order to do so, they wear a token that emits a light that allows them to hide their presence. When they’re hidden, they can create and enchant the world of the human that they’re bonded with. The moment they start to materialize into the real world, they begin to lose themselves. They lose their magic, their identity, and eventually rapidly deteriorate until they disappear.
The key to their existence is their token. While it acts as their own personal cloaking device, it also serves as a key to institute where they’re made, The Imaginarium.
Unfortunately for one unlucky imaginary friend, they left their cloaking device in The Imaginarium. Little by little, they are starting to materialize into the real world. They are starting to lose their senses and forget their memories. Their only option now is to work together with their human to navigate back to The Imaginarium before their time runs out.
Side Notes: I just love the idea of having magical adventures in the modern world. The imaginary friend is not limited by form. They don’t have to be human. It’s the beauty of being imaginary.
The Age of Automation
- Sci-fi, Cyberpunk, Action
In an advanced technological dystopia, it is mandatory for all humans to be “chipped” at birth. The chip serves as a nano augmentation that alters their reality and a HUD/display of sorts allowing people to view and interact with the information that constantly being provided by them. It counts their intake of food or water and it reminds their of their vitals when they’re low. It alerts them of surrounding threats and plays all the national announcements that could help them stay informed. For all it’s usefulness, it also serves as their gate keeper.
The HUD keeps the citizens in line. It enforces curfew and immediately shuts down all functions when the user tries to do something against regulations. It filters through the content they interact with and denies everything that isn’t in line with the values of the The Union, an all encompassing authoritarian regime that rose to rebuild the world from the ground up from the aftermath of the world wars. Unfortunately, all those who rebel or sow seeds of skepticism against the functions of the HUD are quickly silenced and exiled.
Recently, there’s been some rumours that an uprising is brewing among the winds. A radical group, Lucid, seeming to plans the destruction of the HUD and its automations altogether. The question is, is freedom and personal agency a more important value than the safety and efficiency that The Union and the HUD provides?
Déjà Brew
- Romance, Modern, Fluff
When they were younger, two children wrote to penpals at school. They exchanged stories, experiences, and secrets amongst themselves that they dared not share with their current friends. For some reason, it was easier to let yourself be known to a perfect stranger than it was to open up to the people around you.
Several years pass and the letters stop coming. The children grow up and move on their separate ways. Neither really thought they’d ever hear from each other again - let alone, meet face to face. But here they were.
In a cafe that one of them frequents, the other is surprised to see this stranger with the same name as their friend. The stranger says their stay in town is quite brief, but they mentioned that they were meeting an old friend. Curious to see who they were talking about, the local stays and observes the stranger. But things turn out for the worst when someone they know steals their name and pretends to be them. This definitely was how they envisioned their introduction to be like.
Side Notes: I kinda want just tooth rotting fluff for this plot. We can definitely throw some angst and bumps along the road, as all relationships grow through. But I personally love my romance sweet and on the lighter side rather than super dark, too toxic, or extremely broody. We stan happy and healthy couples in this house!
Borrowed Time
- Tournament Style, Time Loops, Mystery
Inspired by The Hunger Games and all the time loop media I’ve consumed (Groundhog Day, Russian Doll, and 12 Minutes)
Set in a dystopian future where civilization has been split in half, an annual tournament is held to help the less fortunate ascend their status in society. Those holding the tournament for sport, The Immortals, have been biologically enhanced beyond the point of degradation. They can basically live infinitely and so they indulge in splendour and luxury. The select few participants, The Ashes, have come from the other side of society where humans are still plagued by their biological condition. They chose to (or have been born into) a part of the world where people still suffer from famine and disease. Their life was spent serving under the elite. Sometimes even becoming fodder for spare organs or body parts. They were, as their name suggests, as disposable as ashes to the wind.
Unbeknownst to the participants, the moment they enter the tournament is also the moment they enter a time loop. Since the rules suggest that it is elimination by death. Each participant must either hunt or survive the round to progress further in the tournament. As a result, for each time they die, they get resurrected to the beginning of the tournament. After all, the Immortals have an eternity to spend trying to seek their fun entertainment.
Fortunately for the participants, an oracle heralds the news that it would be the last tournament that the Immortals would ever host. The one clue that they had was that in order to break the cycle, they have to figure out the mystery of eternity behind The Immortal’s game. However, will they be able to set aside their own motivations to work together as a group? Or will the lure of ascending to Immortal status be too much to pass up, especially since, it’s their last chance?
Token
- Friendship, Modern, Light-hearted
What happens when an imaginary friend comes to life? Well, they get “retired”. It’s the nice way of putting it. Imaginary friends operate in a spectrum that isn’t usually visible to the human eye. In order to do so, they wear a token that emits a light that allows them to hide their presence. When they’re hidden, they can create and enchant the world of the human that they’re bonded with. The moment they start to materialize into the real world, they begin to lose themselves. They lose their magic, their identity, and eventually rapidly deteriorate until they disappear.
The key to their existence is their token. While it acts as their own personal cloaking device, it also serves as a key to institute where they’re made, The Imaginarium.
Unfortunately for one unlucky imaginary friend, they left their cloaking device in The Imaginarium. Little by little, they are starting to materialize into the real world. They are starting to lose their senses and forget their memories. Their only option now is to work together with their human to navigate back to The Imaginarium before their time runs out.
Side Notes: I just love the idea of having magical adventures in the modern world. The imaginary friend is not limited by form. They don’t have to be human. It’s the beauty of being imaginary.
The Age of Automation
- Sci-fi, Cyberpunk, Action
In an advanced technological dystopia, it is mandatory for all humans to be “chipped” at birth. The chip serves as a nano augmentation that alters their reality and a HUD/display of sorts allowing people to view and interact with the information that constantly being provided by them. It counts their intake of food or water and it reminds their of their vitals when they’re low. It alerts them of surrounding threats and plays all the national announcements that could help them stay informed. For all it’s usefulness, it also serves as their gate keeper.
The HUD keeps the citizens in line. It enforces curfew and immediately shuts down all functions when the user tries to do something against regulations. It filters through the content they interact with and denies everything that isn’t in line with the values of the The Union, an all encompassing authoritarian regime that rose to rebuild the world from the ground up from the aftermath of the world wars. Unfortunately, all those who rebel or sow seeds of skepticism against the functions of the HUD are quickly silenced and exiled.
Recently, there’s been some rumours that an uprising is brewing among the winds. A radical group, Lucid, seeming to plans the destruction of the HUD and its automations altogether. The question is, is freedom and personal agency a more important value than the safety and efficiency that The Union and the HUD provides?
Déjà Brew
- Romance, Modern, Fluff
When they were younger, two children wrote to penpals at school. They exchanged stories, experiences, and secrets amongst themselves that they dared not share with their current friends. For some reason, it was easier to let yourself be known to a perfect stranger than it was to open up to the people around you.
Several years pass and the letters stop coming. The children grow up and move on their separate ways. Neither really thought they’d ever hear from each other again - let alone, meet face to face. But here they were.
In a cafe that one of them frequents, the other is surprised to see this stranger with the same name as their friend. The stranger says their stay in town is quite brief, but they mentioned that they were meeting an old friend. Curious to see who they were talking about, the local stays and observes the stranger. But things turn out for the worst when someone they know steals their name and pretends to be them. This definitely was how they envisioned their introduction to be like.
Side Notes: I kinda want just tooth rotting fluff for this plot. We can definitely throw some angst and bumps along the road, as all relationships grow through. But I personally love my romance sweet and on the lighter side rather than super dark, too toxic, or extremely broody. We stan happy and healthy couples in this house!
Let’s hope all our dreams come true
Just some writing samples for you to gauge whether we’d be a good match. They vary in lengths so you’ll get a feel for how little or how much I can write. It will also introduce you to some of my characters. Fun!
For context, I often use bold to denote my character’s spoken dialogue and italics for other people’s dialogue or my character’s internal thoughts.
Hugh aka ”Your royal pain in the butt”
“Neve!” The nobleman called. “Could you stop fidgeting?!”
Hugh didn’t need to acquire a certain astute knowledge of body language to know his friend was growing weary of waiting. His page, the one prattling about and fidgeting with his thumbs, was only adding to the precarious nature of the situation.
He sighed. That didn’t come out quite right.
He didn’t mean to further fuel the other man’s nerves. With the cluster of lecherous thoughts seeming to rear their heads upon his own conscience, he found it difficult to concentrate on a second course of action. The leader of the knights might have been sure of his decision prior; however, with the scolding he received from Lady Madeline, his confidence seemed to falter.
“Juilen lays to waste behind iron bars! While you… You.. You wouldn’t even help him grant an audience with your father!”
Her words wounded him.
How could she doubt his intentions? His character? Were they not bosom buddies who’s mothers teased them to no end about being future betrothed?
Of course, her opinion mattered. He held her position in high regard despite the fact that he would counter in front of everyone. He did have a reputation to uphold. But in truth, he internally reflected on her advice when he was alone. Her rationale, her humility, her presence instilled a quality of calm to foil his inherent impulsivity. He began to wonder if she was right.
Could he have put an end to it all?
Despite her accusations, even she wasn’t fully privy to his father’s temper. Hugh knew that if he interrupted Julien’s denouncement, the man’s own scathing suspicions would be directed towards him. Yes, he did bite his tongue, but he did so to prevent the escalation of the matter. Julien was caught by the Night Watch redhanded. Even the knight didn’t foresee this circumstance, far too lenient on Julien’s reputation as a sneak thief for Hugh to expect any less from him.
His hands drew up to his temples. The swish of his linen shirt filled the emptiness in between as he drew forward in his seat. If this was to be some kind of preliminary practice of his duties, he needed to learn how to manage everyone’s expectation of him and he needed to learn it quickly.
He sucked his breath in.
His form aligned straight before he proceeded with caution towards his page. He rested his palms on the brunette’s shoulders. “I’m sorry, Neve,” his tone was soft, genuine, at least he hoped that was what it came across as. “I didn’t mean to shout.”
He was looking at his most trusted friend in earnest. Neve was who he bared his soul to, sometimes. He didn’t deserve to be at the brunt of his frustrations. “I guess, I’ve gotten carried away again, huh?” Clearly there was no room for levity, but he couldn’t help it. It was his defence mechanism for avoiding heavy topics. He offered the most minute of smiles before he was interrupted.
The heavy, rapid repetition of the knocks to his chambers hinted at urgency. He withdrew his hand from his friend and turned towards the noise. “You may enter,” his voice retained its usual haughty tone as it was.
Two men donning the servants garments walked in. Their expressions portrayed a slight unease in his presence. They looked at one another for a few moments, a reluctance of sorts, as if to dare the other person to speak.
Growing weary of the personal game the two were playing amongst themselves, Hugh cleared his throat. “Well, get on with it.” His brows furrowed slightly while he crossed his arms over his chest, expectant of the information they were to divulge.
The smaller of the two finally gave in. He stepped up to greet him,“Your grace,” he bowed.
Hugh wasn’t one to enforce customary formalities, but such were the rules of conduct around the current monarchy. The servant glanced toward the other again, hesitant of the Prince’s reaction. Perhaps, even stalling. The more he refuse to say, the deeper the crease to the side of the nobleman’s mouth turned, transitioning into a scowl. Just before he could reach out and grab the smaller man by the scruff of his collar, he finally squealed.
“Lady Madeline!” He threw his arms up in defence.
The other servant stepped in, knowing the small one was too intimidated to continue. “Your father had ordered her arrest. He requests to speak with you at once.”
His palms closed into a fist.
Hugh’s blood pressure rose where he began to seethe, seeing crimson, an ever present glint of fury set in his eyes. In an instant, he shoved the servants aside and sprinted to his father’s war room. There was no time to think. Direct confrontation it was. If he couldn’t reason with the King, then, he’d have to break Julien out himself and see to where Madeline was being held. The time for rumination was over.
Peyton aka ”A can of whoop ass”
Slender, ashen tendrils drew away from her lips.
Exhale.
Peyton drew the cigarette out, staring at the burnt amber bottle. The light cascaded from the curvature of its sides, it gleamed. It was enticing, even more so, as she contemplated cracking it open to take a hit. A swig. A quick swish.
She closed her eyes.
Inhale.
A familiar bitter tar coated her tongue. The actions were automatic; however, its effects were slightly removed. It’s been two years now since she’s touched a pack. Two years since she’s had her life altered altogether.
Will wasn’t keen on the smell of smoke. She recalled how he almost choked with his delicate constitution, no vocal protestations needed, for her to understand how crucial it was for her to keep his space clean. It wasn’t the arrangement that she wanted, but she had no choice in the matter. At least it was the excuse that she’d imposed upon herself.
Not that it even matters now. It seems that his extremely dense skull finally found its breaking point. She had taken their argument a step too far yesterday night.
Damn it!
It infuriated her that she couldn’t return his affections. There was something in her instincts that prevented her from hugging him. He posed no threat, but she simply didn’t allow him to get too close. She didn’t want to get too attached and dig another grave. And so he ran away with his feelings hurt.
He was still growing.
He just needed to be comforted to feel safe.
Peyton wasn’t made as he was - soft, beautiful, so full of hope. It was a miracle that his innocence and youthfulness was kept in tact despite the new realities dawning upon them. It was something that she wanted to preserve. Yet, she couldn’t stand her ragged edges sinking deeper to cut the poor adolescent down. He had so much faith in her - it was stupid.
She wasn’t his mother.
She couldn’t provide the natural, gentle comfort that other women had. She struggled to keep them safe. Let alone, find food to feed him. However, she couldn’t leave the boy alone to fend for himself out there. At least, not until he learned to overcome the ruthlessness of survival. He was far too self-less that anyone might take advantage of him. And so his greatest strength became her worst fear.
She stamped the light out with her boots before she continued to look around the abandoned store. He couldn’t have strayed too far from their base camp. She held the shotgun close in case any walkers crossed her path. She was surprised that none have lunged at her so far.
She kept her eyes forward. Sometimes, scanning the empty shelves for anything that she could stow and find useful later on. She wasn’t surprised when there was hardly any supplies that were left.
During the on-set of the outbreak, it was bad. She remembered her own brother barring their doors and windows down with any scrap wooden planks he could get his hands on. Back then, she thought he was insane. But in hindsight, she could appreciate how he wanted to protect them from looters amongst everyone else on the other side with ill intent.
A large metallic clunk resounded snapping her back into hyper awareness. A blood curling scream sent shivers down her spine.
“PEYTON! PEYTON!”
It was Will’s voice. She ran past the aisle of litter, empty cans, and broken glass - pushing her way out.
“HELP SOMEONE! HELP ME PLEASE!”
She found him pinned in an alley in front of a rusted industrial bin. He was trembling, eyes wide open, driven nearly with tears. He had a baseball bat in his hands, but he wasn’t swinging. She knew it would be too traumatizing for him to commit such a violent act. He was just a kid.
“I’m here Will,” she hollered, trying to capture his attention.
There were five of them. Two in front of her, to Will’s left and three further down, to his right. She could hear their annoying raspy groans now. The smell of putrified flesh filled the air; however, she was no longer affected by the nauseating stench.
The first one was staggering as he walked. Aside from his twisted leg, he looked like any normal human would from behind. His hair still in tact, his clothes crinkled and dirty, but not torn. It made her briefly wonder what caused him to turn.
She switched the safety off her gun quickly, in case she needed to shoot. But she wanted to approach with stealth. She grabbed the undead’s shoulder, shoving his back, crushing him with her weight as she pinned him against the bricks. She shifted her position to free her right hand. With her body still on his, she unsheathed her side dagger and stabbed the temple.
The body fell with a thud, revealing the cause of death that she was momentarily curious about. The man was missing half his face. A huge chunk of his cheek was missing as dried brown sinew flesh was exposed to the air. Someone literally ate his face off.
One to go.
The second one was closing in on the young man quickly. She sprinted. With the butt of the gun, she knocked the back of the zombie’s skull.
Crack!
It was enough for the cadaver to turn around and leave an opening for Will to slip away. She would catch up with him later, if he chose to run. Allowing the gun to hang on her shoulders, she paced around the undead with her dagger.
She set herself up to jump moving a few steps back. She pumped her arms up and leapt. One hand grabbed on to the base of the neck ensuring the target wasn’t going to move. She felt the resistance of the bone shred as sheer force impaled the mid scalp. In an instant, the zombie fell limp.
Peyton was panting. She stopped for a few seconds to catch her breath.
Who knew that today was going to be such a workout?
Tara aka ”My sweet cinnamon roll”
Tara was on the couch adjusting the tension on her guitar strings when she heard Cat move through the front door. Lucky, their black tabby, pitter-pattered across the carpet. He brushed the artist’s legs signalling that he wanted to be held. She set the guitar down to the side and proceeded to pick him up. He purred, shaking his hind legs a little, as she stroked his cheek. He was simply adorable like this.
“How was your day, love?” she asked looking up to her girlfriend.
The blonde’s expression caught her off guard. Cat’s lips were quivering, her eyes were somewhat puffy as if she’d been crying. She lowered Lucky to the ground before standing to speak.
“What’s troubling you, Catalina?” Her face full of concern. “¿Qué pasa?” Her own eyes started to glisten as she slowly stroked Cat’s cheek like Lucky. A pang struck her heart. It pained her to see the beauty crying. Those blue eyes deserved more happiness and less tears.
Continuing to tend to her, the guitarist looked for any sort of outward bruises or injuries. “Are you hurt?” Whatever it was, she wanted to make it better - to cleave away the troubles that plagued her love.
When she couldn’t find any signs of physical trauma. She held her for a bit. Her hands smoothed over fabric, rubbing circles in Cat’s back, hopefully, allowing her best friend to calm down. She knew of Cat’s anxiety. She understood how difficult it was for her to cope when her thoughts started to spiral. She was aware of how much strength it took not to fall apart in the outside world. But she was safe to let it all go here.
While she didn’t know the trigger, she wanted to make her presence known. Cat wasn’t alone. She didn’t have to suffer in silence. She lightly kissed her forehead as she’d always done when they struggled with words. Tara pressed her forehead against hers. “Tell me what you need, please love.”
For context, I often use bold to denote my character’s spoken dialogue and italics for other people’s dialogue or my character’s internal thoughts.
Hugh aka ”Your royal pain in the butt”“Neve!” The nobleman called. “Could you stop fidgeting?!”
Hugh didn’t need to acquire a certain astute knowledge of body language to know his friend was growing weary of waiting. His page, the one prattling about and fidgeting with his thumbs, was only adding to the precarious nature of the situation.
He sighed. That didn’t come out quite right.
He didn’t mean to further fuel the other man’s nerves. With the cluster of lecherous thoughts seeming to rear their heads upon his own conscience, he found it difficult to concentrate on a second course of action. The leader of the knights might have been sure of his decision prior; however, with the scolding he received from Lady Madeline, his confidence seemed to falter.
“Juilen lays to waste behind iron bars! While you… You.. You wouldn’t even help him grant an audience with your father!”
Her words wounded him.
How could she doubt his intentions? His character? Were they not bosom buddies who’s mothers teased them to no end about being future betrothed?
Of course, her opinion mattered. He held her position in high regard despite the fact that he would counter in front of everyone. He did have a reputation to uphold. But in truth, he internally reflected on her advice when he was alone. Her rationale, her humility, her presence instilled a quality of calm to foil his inherent impulsivity. He began to wonder if she was right.
Could he have put an end to it all?
Despite her accusations, even she wasn’t fully privy to his father’s temper. Hugh knew that if he interrupted Julien’s denouncement, the man’s own scathing suspicions would be directed towards him. Yes, he did bite his tongue, but he did so to prevent the escalation of the matter. Julien was caught by the Night Watch redhanded. Even the knight didn’t foresee this circumstance, far too lenient on Julien’s reputation as a sneak thief for Hugh to expect any less from him.
His hands drew up to his temples. The swish of his linen shirt filled the emptiness in between as he drew forward in his seat. If this was to be some kind of preliminary practice of his duties, he needed to learn how to manage everyone’s expectation of him and he needed to learn it quickly.
He sucked his breath in.
His form aligned straight before he proceeded with caution towards his page. He rested his palms on the brunette’s shoulders. “I’m sorry, Neve,” his tone was soft, genuine, at least he hoped that was what it came across as. “I didn’t mean to shout.”
He was looking at his most trusted friend in earnest. Neve was who he bared his soul to, sometimes. He didn’t deserve to be at the brunt of his frustrations. “I guess, I’ve gotten carried away again, huh?” Clearly there was no room for levity, but he couldn’t help it. It was his defence mechanism for avoiding heavy topics. He offered the most minute of smiles before he was interrupted.
The heavy, rapid repetition of the knocks to his chambers hinted at urgency. He withdrew his hand from his friend and turned towards the noise. “You may enter,” his voice retained its usual haughty tone as it was.
Two men donning the servants garments walked in. Their expressions portrayed a slight unease in his presence. They looked at one another for a few moments, a reluctance of sorts, as if to dare the other person to speak.
Growing weary of the personal game the two were playing amongst themselves, Hugh cleared his throat. “Well, get on with it.” His brows furrowed slightly while he crossed his arms over his chest, expectant of the information they were to divulge.
The smaller of the two finally gave in. He stepped up to greet him,“Your grace,” he bowed.
Hugh wasn’t one to enforce customary formalities, but such were the rules of conduct around the current monarchy. The servant glanced toward the other again, hesitant of the Prince’s reaction. Perhaps, even stalling. The more he refuse to say, the deeper the crease to the side of the nobleman’s mouth turned, transitioning into a scowl. Just before he could reach out and grab the smaller man by the scruff of his collar, he finally squealed.
“Lady Madeline!” He threw his arms up in defence.
The other servant stepped in, knowing the small one was too intimidated to continue. “Your father had ordered her arrest. He requests to speak with you at once.”
His palms closed into a fist.
Hugh’s blood pressure rose where he began to seethe, seeing crimson, an ever present glint of fury set in his eyes. In an instant, he shoved the servants aside and sprinted to his father’s war room. There was no time to think. Direct confrontation it was. If he couldn’t reason with the King, then, he’d have to break Julien out himself and see to where Madeline was being held. The time for rumination was over.
Peyton aka ”A can of whoop ass”Slender, ashen tendrils drew away from her lips.
Exhale.
Peyton drew the cigarette out, staring at the burnt amber bottle. The light cascaded from the curvature of its sides, it gleamed. It was enticing, even more so, as she contemplated cracking it open to take a hit. A swig. A quick swish.
She closed her eyes.
Inhale.
A familiar bitter tar coated her tongue. The actions were automatic; however, its effects were slightly removed. It’s been two years now since she’s touched a pack. Two years since she’s had her life altered altogether.
Will wasn’t keen on the smell of smoke. She recalled how he almost choked with his delicate constitution, no vocal protestations needed, for her to understand how crucial it was for her to keep his space clean. It wasn’t the arrangement that she wanted, but she had no choice in the matter. At least it was the excuse that she’d imposed upon herself.
Not that it even matters now. It seems that his extremely dense skull finally found its breaking point. She had taken their argument a step too far yesterday night.
Damn it!
It infuriated her that she couldn’t return his affections. There was something in her instincts that prevented her from hugging him. He posed no threat, but she simply didn’t allow him to get too close. She didn’t want to get too attached and dig another grave. And so he ran away with his feelings hurt.
He was still growing.
He just needed to be comforted to feel safe.
Peyton wasn’t made as he was - soft, beautiful, so full of hope. It was a miracle that his innocence and youthfulness was kept in tact despite the new realities dawning upon them. It was something that she wanted to preserve. Yet, she couldn’t stand her ragged edges sinking deeper to cut the poor adolescent down. He had so much faith in her - it was stupid.
She wasn’t his mother.
She couldn’t provide the natural, gentle comfort that other women had. She struggled to keep them safe. Let alone, find food to feed him. However, she couldn’t leave the boy alone to fend for himself out there. At least, not until he learned to overcome the ruthlessness of survival. He was far too self-less that anyone might take advantage of him. And so his greatest strength became her worst fear.
She stamped the light out with her boots before she continued to look around the abandoned store. He couldn’t have strayed too far from their base camp. She held the shotgun close in case any walkers crossed her path. She was surprised that none have lunged at her so far.
She kept her eyes forward. Sometimes, scanning the empty shelves for anything that she could stow and find useful later on. She wasn’t surprised when there was hardly any supplies that were left.
During the on-set of the outbreak, it was bad. She remembered her own brother barring their doors and windows down with any scrap wooden planks he could get his hands on. Back then, she thought he was insane. But in hindsight, she could appreciate how he wanted to protect them from looters amongst everyone else on the other side with ill intent.
A large metallic clunk resounded snapping her back into hyper awareness. A blood curling scream sent shivers down her spine.
“PEYTON! PEYTON!”
It was Will’s voice. She ran past the aisle of litter, empty cans, and broken glass - pushing her way out.
“HELP SOMEONE! HELP ME PLEASE!”
She found him pinned in an alley in front of a rusted industrial bin. He was trembling, eyes wide open, driven nearly with tears. He had a baseball bat in his hands, but he wasn’t swinging. She knew it would be too traumatizing for him to commit such a violent act. He was just a kid.
“I’m here Will,” she hollered, trying to capture his attention.
There were five of them. Two in front of her, to Will’s left and three further down, to his right. She could hear their annoying raspy groans now. The smell of putrified flesh filled the air; however, she was no longer affected by the nauseating stench.
The first one was staggering as he walked. Aside from his twisted leg, he looked like any normal human would from behind. His hair still in tact, his clothes crinkled and dirty, but not torn. It made her briefly wonder what caused him to turn.
She switched the safety off her gun quickly, in case she needed to shoot. But she wanted to approach with stealth. She grabbed the undead’s shoulder, shoving his back, crushing him with her weight as she pinned him against the bricks. She shifted her position to free her right hand. With her body still on his, she unsheathed her side dagger and stabbed the temple.
The body fell with a thud, revealing the cause of death that she was momentarily curious about. The man was missing half his face. A huge chunk of his cheek was missing as dried brown sinew flesh was exposed to the air. Someone literally ate his face off.
One to go.
The second one was closing in on the young man quickly. She sprinted. With the butt of the gun, she knocked the back of the zombie’s skull.
Crack!
It was enough for the cadaver to turn around and leave an opening for Will to slip away. She would catch up with him later, if he chose to run. Allowing the gun to hang on her shoulders, she paced around the undead with her dagger.
She set herself up to jump moving a few steps back. She pumped her arms up and leapt. One hand grabbed on to the base of the neck ensuring the target wasn’t going to move. She felt the resistance of the bone shred as sheer force impaled the mid scalp. In an instant, the zombie fell limp.
Peyton was panting. She stopped for a few seconds to catch her breath.
Who knew that today was going to be such a workout?
Tara aka ”My sweet cinnamon roll”Tara was on the couch adjusting the tension on her guitar strings when she heard Cat move through the front door. Lucky, their black tabby, pitter-pattered across the carpet. He brushed the artist’s legs signalling that he wanted to be held. She set the guitar down to the side and proceeded to pick him up. He purred, shaking his hind legs a little, as she stroked his cheek. He was simply adorable like this.
“How was your day, love?” she asked looking up to her girlfriend.
The blonde’s expression caught her off guard. Cat’s lips were quivering, her eyes were somewhat puffy as if she’d been crying. She lowered Lucky to the ground before standing to speak.
“What’s troubling you, Catalina?” Her face full of concern. “¿Qué pasa?” Her own eyes started to glisten as she slowly stroked Cat’s cheek like Lucky. A pang struck her heart. It pained her to see the beauty crying. Those blue eyes deserved more happiness and less tears.
Continuing to tend to her, the guitarist looked for any sort of outward bruises or injuries. “Are you hurt?” Whatever it was, she wanted to make it better - to cleave away the troubles that plagued her love.
When she couldn’t find any signs of physical trauma. She held her for a bit. Her hands smoothed over fabric, rubbing circles in Cat’s back, hopefully, allowing her best friend to calm down. She knew of Cat’s anxiety. She understood how difficult it was for her to cope when her thoughts started to spiral. She was aware of how much strength it took not to fall apart in the outside world. But she was safe to let it all go here.
While she didn’t know the trigger, she wanted to make her presence known. Cat wasn’t alone. She didn’t have to suffer in silence. She lightly kissed her forehead as she’d always done when they struggled with words. Tara pressed her forehead against hers. “Tell me what you need, please love.”
Let’s make wishes by the well
Hello, how are you? I hope you’re doing well. Like many others, I’m here looking for some writing partners. Long-term or short-term, everyone is welcome!
Call me Euphony. I’m a student and a part-time worker. September back-to-school blues have me procrastinating so here I am.
I have a lot of passions revolving around art - writing, painting, photography, and music - just to name a few. I think story-telling is such a fulfilling endeavour so I came to role-playing. Outside of this, I casually play some video games and experiment with cooking and baking. There’s just something about food just brings people together!
But that’s enough about me, how about you? What sort of things do you enjoy? I’d love to hear, if you’re willing to share them with me. I’d be happy to make your acquaintance!
Call me Euphony. I’m a student and a part-time worker. September back-to-school blues have me procrastinating so here I am.
I have a lot of passions revolving around art - writing, painting, photography, and music - just to name a few. I think story-telling is such a fulfilling endeavour so I came to role-playing. Outside of this, I casually play some video games and experiment with cooking and baking. There’s just something about food just brings people together!
But that’s enough about me, how about you? What sort of things do you enjoy? I’d love to hear, if you’re willing to share them with me. I’d be happy to make your acquaintance!
I have coins enough for two
In terms of role-play, I hope you don’t mind the list. It’s easier to lay them out and structure my ramblings rather than have them all over. If you’ve got questions, feel free to ask.
Age: I’ve graduated high school - certainly not a minor. The number itself, I’d prefer to keep to myself. We have our secrets. Shh! But I’d write with anyone who’d have me.
Time-zone: Eastern/GMT-5, I’m around sporadically though. Having a consistent sleep schedule unfortunately isn’t my forte.
Writing Style: Novel-style, Multiple paragraphs and past-tense. I’ll leave a writing sample at the bottom.
Word Count: I aim for at least a page so that’s around 500 words, give or take, depending on my muse and schedule.
Level of Activity: Depends, There’s so many variables to life. I’d love to say that I can at least reply to you once a week. If not, I’ll let you know.
Interested Genres: Fantasy, Science-fiction/Science-fantasy, Modern/Realistic, Mystery, Adventure, and Romance. If you have something outside this genre you’d like to suggest, I’d gladly hear it.
Triggers: Animal abuse and most cases of domestic abuse/assault. I’m okay with integrating such events in terms of character history; however, I’m not a person who’s comfortable “role-playing/writing” those situations. I can take horror and dark elements, like Lovecraft and Poe. But explicit depictions of such violence and malicious intent - where the victim/assaulter dynamic is being played out between us - isn’t for me.
Pairings: Open, I’m open to play any gender or non-binary and I’m also open to relationships from familial to platonic, antagonistic to romantic.
Groups/Doubling: Open for small groups and yes to doubling. We can add more as we go.
World building/Plotting: Definitely, I like reading lore and coming up with it!
Character Sheets: Sure, I don’t require it personally for one on ones because I usually plot out things and relations with my partner, but if you’d like one then, I can write one for you.
Coding/Graphics: I can do things like this. I have no crazy coding skills, if you want to suggest a template, I’m open to it.
Communication: PMs please
Where to Post: I’m open to PMs, Threads, and GoogleDocs. I’d rather prefer to steer clear from social media/messenger RPs in Discord because it’s not as easy to format and edit. OOC in Discord is quite fine though.
Original or Fandom: I adore original plots because of the creative freedom to write about anything, but we can always include fandom elements as well.
For fandoms, I mostly prefer OCs to canons. I don’t mind if you’d like to play a canon character. If you’d like me to play a canon, just ask. I’ll try to portray them as best as I could as long as their muse is in my wheelhouse.
Time-zone: Eastern/GMT-5, I’m around sporadically though. Having a consistent sleep schedule unfortunately isn’t my forte.
Writing Style: Novel-style, Multiple paragraphs and past-tense. I’ll leave a writing sample at the bottom.
Word Count: I aim for at least a page so that’s around 500 words, give or take, depending on my muse and schedule.
Level of Activity: Depends, There’s so many variables to life. I’d love to say that I can at least reply to you once a week. If not, I’ll let you know.
Interested Genres: Fantasy, Science-fiction/Science-fantasy, Modern/Realistic, Mystery, Adventure, and Romance. If you have something outside this genre you’d like to suggest, I’d gladly hear it.
Triggers: Animal abuse and most cases of domestic abuse/assault. I’m okay with integrating such events in terms of character history; however, I’m not a person who’s comfortable “role-playing/writing” those situations. I can take horror and dark elements, like Lovecraft and Poe. But explicit depictions of such violence and malicious intent - where the victim/assaulter dynamic is being played out between us - isn’t for me.
Pairings: Open, I’m open to play any gender or non-binary and I’m also open to relationships from familial to platonic, antagonistic to romantic.
Groups/Doubling: Open for small groups and yes to doubling. We can add more as we go.
World building/Plotting: Definitely, I like reading lore and coming up with it!
Character Sheets: Sure, I don’t require it personally for one on ones because I usually plot out things and relations with my partner, but if you’d like one then, I can write one for you.
For descriptions, I don’t need pictures personally. Written descriptions for appearance are good. But if you’re a visual person and want to use art, realistic models, or anime/cartoons - those are all good with me!
Coding/Graphics: I can do things like this. I have no crazy coding skills, if you want to suggest a template, I’m open to it.
Communication: PMs please
Where to Post: I’m open to PMs, Threads, and GoogleDocs. I’d rather prefer to steer clear from social media/messenger RPs in Discord because it’s not as easy to format and edit. OOC in Discord is quite fine though.
Original or Fandom: I adore original plots because of the creative freedom to write about anything, but we can always include fandom elements as well.
For fandoms, I mostly prefer OCs to canons. I don’t mind if you’d like to play a canon character. If you’d like me to play a canon, just ask. I’ll try to portray them as best as I could as long as their muse is in my wheelhouse.
TV Shows/Movies: Sherlock, Westworld, Snowpiercer, The Walking Dead, Into the Badlands, The Haunting Series (on Netflix), The 100, The Umbrella Academy, The Boys, Invincible, MCU - Mostly Avengers, Good Omens
Anime: Avatar: The Last Airbender and Death Note.
Videogames: Fable, Skyrim, Devil May Cry, Assassin’s Creed, Dishonored, Hitman, Watch Dogs, Detroit: Become Human, Titanfall, Apex Legends, Red Dead Redemption, Uncharted, Far Cry, Tomb Raider, Left 4 Dead, Bioshock, Metro, Splinter Cell, Wolf Among Us, Harvest Moon, Stardew Valley, and Pokemon
Novels: Popular Picks - J.K. Rowling’s Harry Potter, James Patterson’s Maximum Ride, Suzanne Collin’s Hunger Games, James Dashner’s Maze Runner, Daniel Handler’s/Lemony Snicket’s A Series of Unfortunate Events, and Anthony Horowitz’s Alex Rider.
More obscure titles - Justina Ireland’s Dread Nation, Sabaa Tahir’s An Ember in the Ashes, Paolo Bacigalupi’s Ship Breaker, and Elizabeth Wein’s Code Name Verity
Anime: Avatar: The Last Airbender and Death Note.
Sorry for the short list, I’ve not quite fallen into the anime rabbit hole. But I’ll take suggestions.
Videogames: Fable, Skyrim, Devil May Cry, Assassin’s Creed, Dishonored, Hitman, Watch Dogs, Detroit: Become Human, Titanfall, Apex Legends, Red Dead Redemption, Uncharted, Far Cry, Tomb Raider, Left 4 Dead, Bioshock, Metro, Splinter Cell, Wolf Among Us, Harvest Moon, Stardew Valley, and Pokemon
Novels: Popular Picks - J.K. Rowling’s Harry Potter, James Patterson’s Maximum Ride, Suzanne Collin’s Hunger Games, James Dashner’s Maze Runner, Daniel Handler’s/Lemony Snicket’s A Series of Unfortunate Events, and Anthony Horowitz’s Alex Rider.
More obscure titles - Justina Ireland’s Dread Nation, Sabaa Tahir’s An Ember in the Ashes, Paolo Bacigalupi’s Ship Breaker, and Elizabeth Wein’s Code Name Verity
Basically, I live for YA novels! I’m trying to branch out into more age appropriate books, but it’s turning out to be a slow transition. I think I’ll forever remain young at heart.
One for me and one for you
Perhaps, I could entice you with some plots. If none suit your fancy, send me some plots of your own. We can always re-work on these together since nothing is purely set in stone.
Borrowed Time
- Tournament Style, Time Loops, Mystery
Inspired by The Hunger Games and all the time loop media I’ve consumed (Groundhog Day, Russian Doll, and 12 Minutes)
Set in a dystopian future where civilization has been split in half, an annual tournament is held to help the less fortunate ascend their status in society. Those holding the tournament for sport, The Immortals, have been biologically enhanced beyond the point of degradation. They can basically live infinitely and so they indulge in splendour and luxury. The select few participants, The Ashes, have come from the other side of society where humans are still plagued by their biological condition. They chose to (or have been born into) a part of the world where people still suffer from famine and disease. Their life was spent serving under the elite. Sometimes even becoming fodder for spare organs or body parts. They were, as their name suggests, as disposable as ashes to the wind.
Unbeknownst to the participants, the moment they enter the tournament is also the moment they enter a time loop. Since the rules suggest that it is elimination by death. Each participant must either hunt or survive the round to progress further in the tournament. As a result, for each time they die, they get resurrected to the beginning of the tournament. After all, the Immortals have an eternity to spend trying to seek their fun entertainment.
Fortunately for the participants, an oracle heralds the news that it would be the last tournament that the Immortals would ever host. The one clue that they had was that in order to break the cycle, they have to figure out the mystery of eternity behind The Immortal’s game. However, will they be able to set aside their own motivations to work together as a group? Or will the lure of ascending to Immortal status be too much to pass up, especially since, it’s their last chance?
Token
- Friendship, Modern, Light-hearted
What happens when an imaginary friend comes to life? Well, they get “retired”. It’s the nice way of putting it. Imaginary friends operate in a spectrum that isn’t usually visible to the human eye. In order to do so, they wear a token that emits a light that allows them to hide their presence. When they’re hidden, they can create and enchant the world of the human that they’re bonded with. The moment they start to materialize into the real world, they begin to lose themselves. They lose their magic, their identity, and eventually rapidly deteriorate until they disappear.
The key to their existence is their token. While it acts as their own personal cloaking device, it also serves as a key to institute where they’re made, The Imaginarium.
Unfortunately for one unlucky imaginary friend, they left their cloaking device in The Imaginarium. Little by little, they are starting to materialize into the real world. They are starting to lose their senses and forget their memories. Their only option now is to work together with their human to navigate back to The Imaginarium before their time runs out.
Side Notes: I just love the idea of having magical adventures in the modern world. The imaginary friend is not limited by form. They don’t have to be human. It’s the beauty of being imaginary.
The Age of Automation
- Sci-fi, Cyberpunk, Action
In an advanced technological dystopia, it is mandatory for all humans to be “chipped” at birth. The chip serves as a nano augmentation that alters their reality and a HUD/display of sorts allowing people to view and interact with the information that constantly being provided by them. It counts their intake of food or water and it reminds their of their vitals when they’re low. It alerts them of surrounding threats and plays all the national announcements that could help them stay informed. For all it’s usefulness, it also serves as their gate keeper.
The HUD keeps the citizens in line. It enforces curfew and immediately shuts down all functions when the user tries to do something against regulations. It filters through the content they interact with and denies everything that isn’t in line with the values of the The Union, an all encompassing authoritarian regime that rose to rebuild the world from the ground up from the aftermath of the world wars. Unfortunately, all those who rebel or sow seeds of skepticism against the functions of the HUD are quickly silenced and exiled.
Recently, there’s been some rumours that an uprising is brewing among the winds. A radical group, Lucid, seeming to plans the destruction of the HUD and its automations altogether. The question is, is freedom and personal agency a more important value than the safety and efficiency that The Union and the HUD provides?
Déjà Brew
- Romance, Modern, Fluff
When they were younger, two children wrote to penpals at school. They exchanged stories, experiences, and secrets amongst themselves that they dared not share with their current friends. For some reason, it was easier to let yourself be known to a perfect stranger than it was to open up to the people around you.
Several years pass and the letters stop coming. The children grow up and move on their separate ways. Neither really thought they’d ever hear from each other again - let alone, meet face to face. But here they were.
In a cafe that one of them frequents, the other is surprised to see this stranger with the same name as their friend. The stranger says their stay in town is quite brief, but they mentioned that they were meeting an old friend. Curious to see who they were talking about, the local stays and observes the stranger. But things turn out for the worst when someone they know steals their name and pretends to be them. This definitely was how they envisioned their introduction to be like.
Side Notes: I kinda want just tooth rotting fluff for this plot. We can definitely throw some angst and bumps along the road, as all relationships grow through. But I personally love my romance sweet and on the lighter side rather than super dark, too toxic, or extremely broody. We stan happy and healthy couples in this house!
Borrowed Time
- Tournament Style, Time Loops, Mystery
Inspired by The Hunger Games and all the time loop media I’ve consumed (Groundhog Day, Russian Doll, and 12 Minutes)
Set in a dystopian future where civilization has been split in half, an annual tournament is held to help the less fortunate ascend their status in society. Those holding the tournament for sport, The Immortals, have been biologically enhanced beyond the point of degradation. They can basically live infinitely and so they indulge in splendour and luxury. The select few participants, The Ashes, have come from the other side of society where humans are still plagued by their biological condition. They chose to (or have been born into) a part of the world where people still suffer from famine and disease. Their life was spent serving under the elite. Sometimes even becoming fodder for spare organs or body parts. They were, as their name suggests, as disposable as ashes to the wind.
Unbeknownst to the participants, the moment they enter the tournament is also the moment they enter a time loop. Since the rules suggest that it is elimination by death. Each participant must either hunt or survive the round to progress further in the tournament. As a result, for each time they die, they get resurrected to the beginning of the tournament. After all, the Immortals have an eternity to spend trying to seek their fun entertainment.
Fortunately for the participants, an oracle heralds the news that it would be the last tournament that the Immortals would ever host. The one clue that they had was that in order to break the cycle, they have to figure out the mystery of eternity behind The Immortal’s game. However, will they be able to set aside their own motivations to work together as a group? Or will the lure of ascending to Immortal status be too much to pass up, especially since, it’s their last chance?
Token
- Friendship, Modern, Light-hearted
What happens when an imaginary friend comes to life? Well, they get “retired”. It’s the nice way of putting it. Imaginary friends operate in a spectrum that isn’t usually visible to the human eye. In order to do so, they wear a token that emits a light that allows them to hide their presence. When they’re hidden, they can create and enchant the world of the human that they’re bonded with. The moment they start to materialize into the real world, they begin to lose themselves. They lose their magic, their identity, and eventually rapidly deteriorate until they disappear.
The key to their existence is their token. While it acts as their own personal cloaking device, it also serves as a key to institute where they’re made, The Imaginarium.
Unfortunately for one unlucky imaginary friend, they left their cloaking device in The Imaginarium. Little by little, they are starting to materialize into the real world. They are starting to lose their senses and forget their memories. Their only option now is to work together with their human to navigate back to The Imaginarium before their time runs out.
Side Notes: I just love the idea of having magical adventures in the modern world. The imaginary friend is not limited by form. They don’t have to be human. It’s the beauty of being imaginary.
The Age of Automation
- Sci-fi, Cyberpunk, Action
In an advanced technological dystopia, it is mandatory for all humans to be “chipped” at birth. The chip serves as a nano augmentation that alters their reality and a HUD/display of sorts allowing people to view and interact with the information that constantly being provided by them. It counts their intake of food or water and it reminds their of their vitals when they’re low. It alerts them of surrounding threats and plays all the national announcements that could help them stay informed. For all it’s usefulness, it also serves as their gate keeper.
The HUD keeps the citizens in line. It enforces curfew and immediately shuts down all functions when the user tries to do something against regulations. It filters through the content they interact with and denies everything that isn’t in line with the values of the The Union, an all encompassing authoritarian regime that rose to rebuild the world from the ground up from the aftermath of the world wars. Unfortunately, all those who rebel or sow seeds of skepticism against the functions of the HUD are quickly silenced and exiled.
Recently, there’s been some rumours that an uprising is brewing among the winds. A radical group, Lucid, seeming to plans the destruction of the HUD and its automations altogether. The question is, is freedom and personal agency a more important value than the safety and efficiency that The Union and the HUD provides?
Déjà Brew
- Romance, Modern, Fluff
When they were younger, two children wrote to penpals at school. They exchanged stories, experiences, and secrets amongst themselves that they dared not share with their current friends. For some reason, it was easier to let yourself be known to a perfect stranger than it was to open up to the people around you.
Several years pass and the letters stop coming. The children grow up and move on their separate ways. Neither really thought they’d ever hear from each other again - let alone, meet face to face. But here they were.
In a cafe that one of them frequents, the other is surprised to see this stranger with the same name as their friend. The stranger says their stay in town is quite brief, but they mentioned that they were meeting an old friend. Curious to see who they were talking about, the local stays and observes the stranger. But things turn out for the worst when someone they know steals their name and pretends to be them. This definitely was how they envisioned their introduction to be like.
Side Notes: I kinda want just tooth rotting fluff for this plot. We can definitely throw some angst and bumps along the road, as all relationships grow through. But I personally love my romance sweet and on the lighter side rather than super dark, too toxic, or extremely broody. We stan happy and healthy couples in this house!
Let’s hope all our dreams come true
Just some writing samples for you to gauge whether we’d be a good match. They vary in lengths so you’ll get a feel for how little or how much I can write. It will also introduce you to some of my characters. Fun!
For context, I often use bold to denote my character’s spoken dialogue and italics for other people’s dialogue or my character’s internal thoughts.
Hugh aka ”Your royal pain in the butt”
“Neve!” The nobleman called. “Could you stop fidgeting?!”
Hugh didn’t need to acquire a certain astute knowledge of body language to know his friend was growing weary of waiting. His page, the one prattling about and fidgeting with his thumbs, was only adding to the precarious nature of the situation.
He sighed. That didn’t come out quite right.
He didn’t mean to further fuel the other man’s nerves. With the cluster of lecherous thoughts seeming to rear their heads upon his own conscience, he found it difficult to concentrate on a second course of action. The leader of the knights might have been sure of his decision prior; however, with the scolding he received from Lady Madeline, his confidence seemed to falter.
“Juilen lays to waste behind iron bars! While you… You.. You wouldn’t even help him grant an audience with your father!”
Her words wounded him.
How could she doubt his intentions? His character? Were they not bosom buddies who’s mothers teased them to no end about being future betrothed?
Of course, her opinion mattered. He held her position in high regard despite the fact that he would counter in front of everyone. He did have a reputation to uphold. But in truth, he internally reflected on her advice when he was alone. Her rationale, her humility, her presence instilled a quality of calm to foil his inherent impulsivity. He began to wonder if she was right.
Could he have put an end to it all?
Despite her accusations, even she wasn’t fully privy to his father’s temper. Hugh knew that if he interrupted Julien’s denouncement, the man’s own scathing suspicions would be directed towards him. Yes, he did bite his tongue, but he did so to prevent the escalation of the matter. Julien was caught by the Night Watch redhanded. Even the knight didn’t foresee this circumstance, far too lenient on Julien’s reputation as a sneak thief for Hugh to expect any less from him.
His hands drew up to his temples. The swish of his linen shirt filled the emptiness in between as he drew forward in his seat. If this was to be some kind of preliminary practice of his duties, he needed to learn how to manage everyone’s expectation of him and he needed to learn it quickly.
He sucked his breath in.
His form aligned straight before he proceeded with caution towards his page. He rested his palms on the brunette’s shoulders. “I’m sorry, Neve,” his tone was soft, genuine, at least he hoped that was what it came across as. “I didn’t mean to shout.”
He was looking at his most trusted friend in earnest. Neve was who he bared his soul to, sometimes. He didn’t deserve to be at the brunt of his frustrations. “I guess, I’ve gotten carried away again, huh?” Clearly there was no room for levity, but he couldn’t help it. It was his defence mechanism for avoiding heavy topics. He offered the most minute of smiles before he was interrupted.
The heavy, rapid repetition of the knocks to his chambers hinted at urgency. He withdrew his hand from his friend and turned towards the noise. “You may enter,” his voice retained its usual haughty tone as it was.
Two men donning the servants garments walked in. Their expressions portrayed a slight unease in his presence. They looked at one another for a few moments, a reluctance of sorts, as if to dare the other person to speak.
Growing weary of the personal game the two were playing amongst themselves, Hugh cleared his throat. “Well, get on with it.” His brows furrowed slightly while he crossed his arms over his chest, expectant of the information they were to divulge.
The smaller of the two finally gave in. He stepped up to greet him,“Your grace,” he bowed.
Hugh wasn’t one to enforce customary formalities, but such were the rules of conduct around the current monarchy. The servant glanced toward the other again, hesitant of the Prince’s reaction. Perhaps, even stalling. The more he refuse to say, the deeper the crease to the side of the nobleman’s mouth turned, transitioning into a scowl. Just before he could reach out and grab the smaller man by the scruff of his collar, he finally squealed.
“Lady Madeline!” He threw his arms up in defence.
The other servant stepped in, knowing the small one was too intimidated to continue. “Your father had ordered her arrest. He requests to speak with you at once.”
His palms closed into a fist.
Hugh’s blood pressure rose where he began to seethe, seeing crimson, an ever present glint of fury set in his eyes. In an instant, he shoved the servants aside and sprinted to his father’s war room. There was no time to think. Direct confrontation it was. If he couldn’t reason with the King, then, he’d have to break Julien out himself and see to where Madeline was being held. The time for rumination was over.
Peyton aka ”A can of whoop ass”
Slender, ashen tendrils drew away from her lips.
Exhale.
Peyton drew the cigarette out, staring at the burnt amber bottle. The light cascaded from the curvature of its sides, it gleamed. It was enticing, even more so, as she contemplated cracking it open to take a hit. A swig. A quick swish.
She closed her eyes.
Inhale.
A familiar bitter tar coated her tongue. The actions were automatic; however, its effects were slightly removed. It’s been two years now since she’s touched a pack. Two years since she’s had her life altered altogether.
Will wasn’t keen on the smell of smoke. She recalled how he almost choked with his delicate constitution, no vocal protestations needed, for her to understand how crucial it was for her to keep his space clean. It wasn’t the arrangement that she wanted, but she had no choice in the matter. At least it was the excuse that she’d imposed upon herself.
Not that it even matters now. It seems that his extremely dense skull finally found its breaking point. She had taken their argument a step too far yesterday night.
Damn it!
It infuriated her that she couldn’t return his affections. There was something in her instincts that prevented her from hugging him. He posed no threat, but she simply didn’t allow him to get too close. She didn’t want to get too attached and dig another grave. And so he ran away with his feelings hurt.
He was still growing.
He just needed to be comforted to feel safe.
Peyton wasn’t made as he was - soft, beautiful, so full of hope. It was a miracle that his innocence and youthfulness was kept in tact despite the new realities dawning upon them. It was something that she wanted to preserve. Yet, she couldn’t stand her ragged edges sinking deeper to cut the poor adolescent down. He had so much faith in her - it was stupid.
She wasn’t his mother.
She couldn’t provide the natural, gentle comfort that other women had. She struggled to keep them safe. Let alone, find food to feed him. However, she couldn’t leave the boy alone to fend for himself out there. At least, not until he learned to overcome the ruthlessness of survival. He was far too self-less that anyone might take advantage of him. And so his greatest strength became her worst fear.
She stamped the light out with her boots before she continued to look around the abandoned store. He couldn’t have strayed too far from their base camp. She held the shotgun close in case any walkers crossed her path. She was surprised that none have lunged at her so far.
She kept her eyes forward. Sometimes, scanning the empty shelves for anything that she could stow and find useful later on. She wasn’t surprised when there was hardly any supplies that were left.
During the on-set of the outbreak, it was bad. She remembered her own brother barring their doors and windows down with any scrap wooden planks he could get his hands on. Back then, she thought he was insane. But in hindsight, she could appreciate how he wanted to protect them from looters amongst everyone else on the other side with ill intent.
A large metallic clunk resounded snapping her back into hyper awareness. A blood curling scream sent shivers down her spine.
“PEYTON! PEYTON!”
It was Will’s voice. She ran past the aisle of litter, empty cans, and broken glass - pushing her way out.
“HELP SOMEONE! HELP ME PLEASE!”
She found him pinned in an alley in front of a rusted industrial bin. He was trembling, eyes wide open, driven nearly with tears. He had a baseball bat in his hands, but he wasn’t swinging. She knew it would be too traumatizing for him to commit such a violent act. He was just a kid.
“I’m here Will,” she hollered, trying to capture his attention.
There were five of them. Two in front of her, to Will’s left and three further down, to his right. She could hear their annoying raspy groans now. The smell of putrified flesh filled the air; however, she was no longer affected by the nauseating stench.
The first one was staggering as he walked. Aside from his twisted leg, he looked like any normal human would from behind. His hair still in tact, his clothes crinkled and dirty, but not torn. It made her briefly wonder what caused him to turn.
She switched the safety off her gun quickly, in case she needed to shoot. But she wanted to approach with stealth. She grabbed the undead’s shoulder, shoving his back, crushing him with her weight as she pinned him against the bricks. She shifted her position to free her right hand. With her body still on his, she unsheathed her side dagger and stabbed the temple.
The body fell with a thud, revealing the cause of death that she was momentarily curious about. The man was missing half his face. A huge chunk of his cheek was missing as dried brown sinew flesh was exposed to the air. Someone literally ate his face off.
One to go.
The second one was closing in on the young man quickly. She sprinted. With the butt of the gun, she knocked the back of the zombie’s skull.
Crack!
It was enough for the cadaver to turn around and leave an opening for Will to slip away. She would catch up with him later, if he chose to run. Allowing the gun to hang on her shoulders, she paced around the undead with her dagger.
She set herself up to jump moving a few steps back. She pumped her arms up and leapt. One hand grabbed on to the base of the neck ensuring the target wasn’t going to move. She felt the resistance of the bone shred as sheer force impaled the mid scalp. In an instant, the zombie fell limp.
Peyton was panting. She stopped for a few seconds to catch her breath.
Who knew that today was going to be such a workout?
Tara aka ”My sweet cinnamon roll”
Tara was on the couch adjusting the tension on her guitar strings when she heard Cat move through the front door. Lucky, their black tabby, pitter-pattered across the carpet. He brushed the artist’s legs signalling that he wanted to be held. She set the guitar down to the side and proceeded to pick him up. He purred, shaking his hind legs a little, as she stroked his cheek. He was simply adorable like this.
“How was your day, love?” she asked looking up to her girlfriend.
The blonde’s expression caught her off guard. Cat’s lips were quivering, her eyes were somewhat puffy as if she’d been crying. She lowered Lucky to the ground before standing to speak.
“What’s troubling you, Catalina?” Her face full of concern. “¿Qué pasa?” Her own eyes started to glisten as she slowly stroked Cat’s cheek like Lucky. A pang struck her heart. It pained her to see the beauty crying. Those blue eyes deserved more happiness and less tears.
Continuing to tend to her, the guitarist looked for any sort of outward bruises or injuries. “Are you hurt?” Whatever it was, she wanted to make it better - to cleave away the troubles that plagued her love.
When she couldn’t find any signs of physical trauma. She held her for a bit. Her hands smoothed over fabric, rubbing circles in Cat’s back, hopefully, allowing her best friend to calm down. She knew of Cat’s anxiety. She understood how difficult it was for her to cope when her thoughts started to spiral. She was aware of how much strength it took not to fall apart in the outside world. But she was safe to let it all go here.
While she didn’t know the trigger, she wanted to make her presence known. Cat wasn’t alone. She didn’t have to suffer in silence. She lightly kissed her forehead as she’d always done when they struggled with words. Tara pressed her forehead against hers. “Tell me what you need, please love.”
For context, I often use bold to denote my character’s spoken dialogue and italics for other people’s dialogue or my character’s internal thoughts.
Hugh aka ”Your royal pain in the butt”“Neve!” The nobleman called. “Could you stop fidgeting?!”
Hugh didn’t need to acquire a certain astute knowledge of body language to know his friend was growing weary of waiting. His page, the one prattling about and fidgeting with his thumbs, was only adding to the precarious nature of the situation.
He sighed. That didn’t come out quite right.
He didn’t mean to further fuel the other man’s nerves. With the cluster of lecherous thoughts seeming to rear their heads upon his own conscience, he found it difficult to concentrate on a second course of action. The leader of the knights might have been sure of his decision prior; however, with the scolding he received from Lady Madeline, his confidence seemed to falter.
“Juilen lays to waste behind iron bars! While you… You.. You wouldn’t even help him grant an audience with your father!”
Her words wounded him.
How could she doubt his intentions? His character? Were they not bosom buddies who’s mothers teased them to no end about being future betrothed?
Of course, her opinion mattered. He held her position in high regard despite the fact that he would counter in front of everyone. He did have a reputation to uphold. But in truth, he internally reflected on her advice when he was alone. Her rationale, her humility, her presence instilled a quality of calm to foil his inherent impulsivity. He began to wonder if she was right.
Could he have put an end to it all?
Despite her accusations, even she wasn’t fully privy to his father’s temper. Hugh knew that if he interrupted Julien’s denouncement, the man’s own scathing suspicions would be directed towards him. Yes, he did bite his tongue, but he did so to prevent the escalation of the matter. Julien was caught by the Night Watch redhanded. Even the knight didn’t foresee this circumstance, far too lenient on Julien’s reputation as a sneak thief for Hugh to expect any less from him.
His hands drew up to his temples. The swish of his linen shirt filled the emptiness in between as he drew forward in his seat. If this was to be some kind of preliminary practice of his duties, he needed to learn how to manage everyone’s expectation of him and he needed to learn it quickly.
He sucked his breath in.
His form aligned straight before he proceeded with caution towards his page. He rested his palms on the brunette’s shoulders. “I’m sorry, Neve,” his tone was soft, genuine, at least he hoped that was what it came across as. “I didn’t mean to shout.”
He was looking at his most trusted friend in earnest. Neve was who he bared his soul to, sometimes. He didn’t deserve to be at the brunt of his frustrations. “I guess, I’ve gotten carried away again, huh?” Clearly there was no room for levity, but he couldn’t help it. It was his defence mechanism for avoiding heavy topics. He offered the most minute of smiles before he was interrupted.
The heavy, rapid repetition of the knocks to his chambers hinted at urgency. He withdrew his hand from his friend and turned towards the noise. “You may enter,” his voice retained its usual haughty tone as it was.
Two men donning the servants garments walked in. Their expressions portrayed a slight unease in his presence. They looked at one another for a few moments, a reluctance of sorts, as if to dare the other person to speak.
Growing weary of the personal game the two were playing amongst themselves, Hugh cleared his throat. “Well, get on with it.” His brows furrowed slightly while he crossed his arms over his chest, expectant of the information they were to divulge.
The smaller of the two finally gave in. He stepped up to greet him,“Your grace,” he bowed.
Hugh wasn’t one to enforce customary formalities, but such were the rules of conduct around the current monarchy. The servant glanced toward the other again, hesitant of the Prince’s reaction. Perhaps, even stalling. The more he refuse to say, the deeper the crease to the side of the nobleman’s mouth turned, transitioning into a scowl. Just before he could reach out and grab the smaller man by the scruff of his collar, he finally squealed.
“Lady Madeline!” He threw his arms up in defence.
The other servant stepped in, knowing the small one was too intimidated to continue. “Your father had ordered her arrest. He requests to speak with you at once.”
His palms closed into a fist.
Hugh’s blood pressure rose where he began to seethe, seeing crimson, an ever present glint of fury set in his eyes. In an instant, he shoved the servants aside and sprinted to his father’s war room. There was no time to think. Direct confrontation it was. If he couldn’t reason with the King, then, he’d have to break Julien out himself and see to where Madeline was being held. The time for rumination was over.
Peyton aka ”A can of whoop ass”Slender, ashen tendrils drew away from her lips.
Exhale.
Peyton drew the cigarette out, staring at the burnt amber bottle. The light cascaded from the curvature of its sides, it gleamed. It was enticing, even more so, as she contemplated cracking it open to take a hit. A swig. A quick swish.
She closed her eyes.
Inhale.
A familiar bitter tar coated her tongue. The actions were automatic; however, its effects were slightly removed. It’s been two years now since she’s touched a pack. Two years since she’s had her life altered altogether.
Will wasn’t keen on the smell of smoke. She recalled how he almost choked with his delicate constitution, no vocal protestations needed, for her to understand how crucial it was for her to keep his space clean. It wasn’t the arrangement that she wanted, but she had no choice in the matter. At least it was the excuse that she’d imposed upon herself.
Not that it even matters now. It seems that his extremely dense skull finally found its breaking point. She had taken their argument a step too far yesterday night.
Damn it!
It infuriated her that she couldn’t return his affections. There was something in her instincts that prevented her from hugging him. He posed no threat, but she simply didn’t allow him to get too close. She didn’t want to get too attached and dig another grave. And so he ran away with his feelings hurt.
He was still growing.
He just needed to be comforted to feel safe.
Peyton wasn’t made as he was - soft, beautiful, so full of hope. It was a miracle that his innocence and youthfulness was kept in tact despite the new realities dawning upon them. It was something that she wanted to preserve. Yet, she couldn’t stand her ragged edges sinking deeper to cut the poor adolescent down. He had so much faith in her - it was stupid.
She wasn’t his mother.
She couldn’t provide the natural, gentle comfort that other women had. She struggled to keep them safe. Let alone, find food to feed him. However, she couldn’t leave the boy alone to fend for himself out there. At least, not until he learned to overcome the ruthlessness of survival. He was far too self-less that anyone might take advantage of him. And so his greatest strength became her worst fear.
She stamped the light out with her boots before she continued to look around the abandoned store. He couldn’t have strayed too far from their base camp. She held the shotgun close in case any walkers crossed her path. She was surprised that none have lunged at her so far.
She kept her eyes forward. Sometimes, scanning the empty shelves for anything that she could stow and find useful later on. She wasn’t surprised when there was hardly any supplies that were left.
During the on-set of the outbreak, it was bad. She remembered her own brother barring their doors and windows down with any scrap wooden planks he could get his hands on. Back then, she thought he was insane. But in hindsight, she could appreciate how he wanted to protect them from looters amongst everyone else on the other side with ill intent.
A large metallic clunk resounded snapping her back into hyper awareness. A blood curling scream sent shivers down her spine.
“PEYTON! PEYTON!”
It was Will’s voice. She ran past the aisle of litter, empty cans, and broken glass - pushing her way out.
“HELP SOMEONE! HELP ME PLEASE!”
She found him pinned in an alley in front of a rusted industrial bin. He was trembling, eyes wide open, driven nearly with tears. He had a baseball bat in his hands, but he wasn’t swinging. She knew it would be too traumatizing for him to commit such a violent act. He was just a kid.
“I’m here Will,” she hollered, trying to capture his attention.
There were five of them. Two in front of her, to Will’s left and three further down, to his right. She could hear their annoying raspy groans now. The smell of putrified flesh filled the air; however, she was no longer affected by the nauseating stench.
The first one was staggering as he walked. Aside from his twisted leg, he looked like any normal human would from behind. His hair still in tact, his clothes crinkled and dirty, but not torn. It made her briefly wonder what caused him to turn.
She switched the safety off her gun quickly, in case she needed to shoot. But she wanted to approach with stealth. She grabbed the undead’s shoulder, shoving his back, crushing him with her weight as she pinned him against the bricks. She shifted her position to free her right hand. With her body still on his, she unsheathed her side dagger and stabbed the temple.
The body fell with a thud, revealing the cause of death that she was momentarily curious about. The man was missing half his face. A huge chunk of his cheek was missing as dried brown sinew flesh was exposed to the air. Someone literally ate his face off.
One to go.
The second one was closing in on the young man quickly. She sprinted. With the butt of the gun, she knocked the back of the zombie’s skull.
Crack!
It was enough for the cadaver to turn around and leave an opening for Will to slip away. She would catch up with him later, if he chose to run. Allowing the gun to hang on her shoulders, she paced around the undead with her dagger.
She set herself up to jump moving a few steps back. She pumped her arms up and leapt. One hand grabbed on to the base of the neck ensuring the target wasn’t going to move. She felt the resistance of the bone shred as sheer force impaled the mid scalp. In an instant, the zombie fell limp.
Peyton was panting. She stopped for a few seconds to catch her breath.
Who knew that today was going to be such a workout?
Tara aka ”My sweet cinnamon roll”Tara was on the couch adjusting the tension on her guitar strings when she heard Cat move through the front door. Lucky, their black tabby, pitter-pattered across the carpet. He brushed the artist’s legs signalling that he wanted to be held. She set the guitar down to the side and proceeded to pick him up. He purred, shaking his hind legs a little, as she stroked his cheek. He was simply adorable like this.
“How was your day, love?” she asked looking up to her girlfriend.
The blonde’s expression caught her off guard. Cat’s lips were quivering, her eyes were somewhat puffy as if she’d been crying. She lowered Lucky to the ground before standing to speak.
“What’s troubling you, Catalina?” Her face full of concern. “¿Qué pasa?” Her own eyes started to glisten as she slowly stroked Cat’s cheek like Lucky. A pang struck her heart. It pained her to see the beauty crying. Those blue eyes deserved more happiness and less tears.
Continuing to tend to her, the guitarist looked for any sort of outward bruises or injuries. “Are you hurt?” Whatever it was, she wanted to make it better - to cleave away the troubles that plagued her love.
When she couldn’t find any signs of physical trauma. She held her for a bit. Her hands smoothed over fabric, rubbing circles in Cat’s back, hopefully, allowing her best friend to calm down. She knew of Cat’s anxiety. She understood how difficult it was for her to cope when her thoughts started to spiral. She was aware of how much strength it took not to fall apart in the outside world. But she was safe to let it all go here.
While she didn’t know the trigger, she wanted to make her presence known. Cat wasn’t alone. She didn’t have to suffer in silence. She lightly kissed her forehead as she’d always done when they struggled with words. Tara pressed her forehead against hers. “Tell me what you need, please love.”
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