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- Oct 7, 2025
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- 43
Hi there, I'm Clo. ^^
Like you, I'm looking for writing partners, and opportunities to throw my characters into stories! I have some general things I'm looking for listed below, as well as a handful of plots that have been rolling around in my brain, (I'll work on adding these at the end when I have time). Also, I'm new here so please excuse the clunky formatting while I get used to the format!
Here's a (non-exhaustive) list of keywords, concepts and pairings I'm interested in right now:
enemies to lovers
friends to lovers
ex-friends to lovers
language barriers
slow burn & angst
snark/banter/bickering/sass/etc
superhero x civilian
villain/anti-hero x civilian
childhood friends meeting again years later
ancient times/historical/medieval
dragons/dragonriders
zombies/apocalypse
Adventure
Fantasy
A bit about me & my preferences:
I usually fall somewhere in the literate category when it comes to length, though I know the definition of that can vary. I prefer a similar length in replies from partners, though I know action or dialogue heavy moments can move fast and become a shorter back and forth. I’ll always look for quality over quantity. You’ll find I love including details about the scenes I'm writing, the small twitches of expression in my character's face and body language, their internal monologue and all that good stuff. I think what's most important to me is I want to feel like there's an equal amount of effort between us. You can read my writing samples below to see if you think we’d gel, and I’d appreciate seeing a sample from you too if you contact me. ^^
Most of the time I create characters first and then a plot comes to life around them. When it comes to pairings I LOVE a dynamic set of personalities interacting with each other within interesting situations and settings. I am open to MxM and also (selectively) to MxF.
I do prefer realistic face claims if you do have one, but it's not a hard rule. Not having a face claim is fine, I just enjoy having some visual reference. I have no problem with drawn/illustrated faceclaims as long as they look like actual adults. (Coughcough i have pinterest boards of all my characters so if you're interested just ask <3)
Original characters and worlds pique (and hold) my interest longer than anything fandom-related, but I'm not opposed to putting characters into existing AU's that are flexible enough for some originality.
When it comes to those spicy moments, it's gotta fit the story and characters. My characters are adults and they act like adults, so do expect it to happen, but it has to feel natural and earned. Some of my characters are more inclined towards intimacy than others. Talk to me about this if there's a minimum you require, but I definitely need the story to come first. I am perfectly fine with it being very minimal or even fade to black as long as there's still enough heat and angst and YEARNING in the story to still keep things feeling charged.
As far as frequency, expect replies from me about once a week - I'm an adult with responsibilities and family I gotta make time for, so replies will never be daily. Weekly and bi-weekly are much more my speed. If you require quick turnaround you won't be happy with me. Despite my limited time, I get very enthusiastic when it comes to creating plot and story elements, and I may chat and ramble at you daily, kinda bombard you with ideas and possible future plot points etc etc. I always hope my partners will enjoy my enthusiasm and share it! I have no problem being patient, I understand we all have schedules, and I just ask that you are patient with me as well.
I'm ghost friendly, and, (I'm not proud of it lol) I've done it in the past too. I'm open to anyone pinging me after a chat falls through or has been left for quite a while. It's all good. I'll usually check in after a week or two, and one more time after that to check in, wish you well and let you know I won't be reaching out again if there's been no response. I don’t want to nag at you to reply lol.
My hard no's are: anything bathroom related, non-con, and excessive gore. Generally I also don't look for roleplays with abuse as part of the plot or the relationship, or too much violence towards my character.
Writing Samples!
Figured I'd go ahead and put a couple writing samples up. Some are starters for previous/old roleplays that didn't get as far as I'd have liked them to go soooooo if anything piques your interest please do PM me.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~
I'll post some plots soon.
If you'd like to chat about possibly starting up a roleplay, it would be appreciated if you let me know what you're interests are, what part (if any) of my post here caught your eye, and include a writing sample. I ask for a sample because I've found it to be a good way for me to sense if we'll be compatible as writing partners.
Like you, I'm looking for writing partners, and opportunities to throw my characters into stories! I have some general things I'm looking for listed below, as well as a handful of plots that have been rolling around in my brain, (I'll work on adding these at the end when I have time). Also, I'm new here so please excuse the clunky formatting while I get used to the format!
Here's a (non-exhaustive) list of keywords, concepts and pairings I'm interested in right now:
enemies to lovers
friends to lovers
ex-friends to lovers
language barriers
slow burn & angst
snark/banter/bickering/sass/etc
superhero x civilian
villain/anti-hero x civilian
childhood friends meeting again years later
ancient times/historical/medieval
dragons/dragonriders
zombies/apocalypse
Adventure
Fantasy
A bit about me & my preferences:
I usually fall somewhere in the literate category when it comes to length, though I know the definition of that can vary. I prefer a similar length in replies from partners, though I know action or dialogue heavy moments can move fast and become a shorter back and forth. I’ll always look for quality over quantity. You’ll find I love including details about the scenes I'm writing, the small twitches of expression in my character's face and body language, their internal monologue and all that good stuff. I think what's most important to me is I want to feel like there's an equal amount of effort between us. You can read my writing samples below to see if you think we’d gel, and I’d appreciate seeing a sample from you too if you contact me. ^^
Most of the time I create characters first and then a plot comes to life around them. When it comes to pairings I LOVE a dynamic set of personalities interacting with each other within interesting situations and settings. I am open to MxM and also (selectively) to MxF.
I do prefer realistic face claims if you do have one, but it's not a hard rule. Not having a face claim is fine, I just enjoy having some visual reference. I have no problem with drawn/illustrated faceclaims as long as they look like actual adults. (Coughcough i have pinterest boards of all my characters so if you're interested just ask <3)
Original characters and worlds pique (and hold) my interest longer than anything fandom-related, but I'm not opposed to putting characters into existing AU's that are flexible enough for some originality.
When it comes to those spicy moments, it's gotta fit the story and characters. My characters are adults and they act like adults, so do expect it to happen, but it has to feel natural and earned. Some of my characters are more inclined towards intimacy than others. Talk to me about this if there's a minimum you require, but I definitely need the story to come first. I am perfectly fine with it being very minimal or even fade to black as long as there's still enough heat and angst and YEARNING in the story to still keep things feeling charged.
As far as frequency, expect replies from me about once a week - I'm an adult with responsibilities and family I gotta make time for, so replies will never be daily. Weekly and bi-weekly are much more my speed. If you require quick turnaround you won't be happy with me. Despite my limited time, I get very enthusiastic when it comes to creating plot and story elements, and I may chat and ramble at you daily, kinda bombard you with ideas and possible future plot points etc etc. I always hope my partners will enjoy my enthusiasm and share it! I have no problem being patient, I understand we all have schedules, and I just ask that you are patient with me as well.
I'm ghost friendly, and, (I'm not proud of it lol) I've done it in the past too. I'm open to anyone pinging me after a chat falls through or has been left for quite a while. It's all good. I'll usually check in after a week or two, and one more time after that to check in, wish you well and let you know I won't be reaching out again if there's been no response. I don’t want to nag at you to reply lol.
My hard no's are: anything bathroom related, non-con, and excessive gore. Generally I also don't look for roleplays with abuse as part of the plot or the relationship, or too much violence towards my character.
Writing Samples!
Figured I'd go ahead and put a couple writing samples up. Some are starters for previous/old roleplays that didn't get as far as I'd have liked them to go soooooo if anything piques your interest please do PM me.
She could’ve cried. Maybe she would, after all, if the wetness building in her eyes were any indication.
Ruth blinked them back, but the satisfied grin on her face took a bit more effort to curtail. The male standing nearby looked back and laughed, seeing how proud the young woman was of herself. Taylor was her new supervisor there at the hospital, and he gave her an affectionate pat on the head that might’ve felt patronizing to some, but the blonde only hummed happily, beaming at the desk they’d share and the hospital ward all around them.
She’d done it. All on her own, working towards a solid career goal that for so long seemed so fragile a dream. Her chest was tight with so much trying to burst out.
“Heyyyy, let’s do the rounds before you get me feeling sentimental too!” Taylor gave her back a little push forward, and Ruth jolted, face warming at having been caught so lost in the moment. They both laughed as they got moving, her still happy and grinning while Taylor reminded her of the rooms they passed, introducing her to staff and doctors along the way.
That first night was light by most standards. She saw the hustle down the hall in the ER, and her heart went out to those she knew must be in real danger, but Ruth and Taylor were assigned to the ICU. She wouldn’t be working with patients in critical condition until proving herself capable here, where diligence and attention to detail were key. And then, perhaps, she’d have a choice between departments…
Weeks went by quickly. Her, trying her best. Getting used to the routines and people, getting to know patients and then inevitably having to say goodbye.
But there was one patient who didn’t leave. He didn’t move, didn’t speak, did nothing but sleep… he was there when she started, but not on her rotation, with injuries needing more experienced monitoring than she could provide. But as he healed (somewhat miraculously) the man was put under her care. Ruth checked on him like all her patients, recorded his vitals, swapped in fresh saline and the like.
Not once did she see anyone visit.
A loneliness crept up into her over time, until one day she came in on her break and sat in the chair next to his bed that was always empty.
“Hello...” she breathed, quietly.
And that’s how she began each visit to the young man. She couldn’t imagine him being much older than herself. All they knew was his name. She’d never been told anything more about him beyond that he was in otherwise perfect physical condition - once he’d healed, of course. No one seemed to know anything beside his first name, and even that they weren’t sure of. When he was brought in, no investigation could find out exactly how he’d been injured so severely.
No one had come to look for him.
Her visits became routine, every other lunch break, sometimes after her shift if the weather was bad and she had time to kill. She loved reading, so it felt natural for her to use the time to read to him. Simply ‘talking’ would be too difficult, and awkward. What would she say? What could she even tell a stranger? The idea of pouring out her thoughts made her stomach whirl.
No. Reading was safe. Easy. Fun, even. Enthusiasm that wasn’t always visible in the woman bubbled up into her voice while reading dramatic moments. Heartbreak or action, subterfuge and betrayal. Her book choices varied, though she stuck firmly with fiction.
Occasionally she’d find another patient had shuffled up to Jaxon’s doorway and was listening. Her bashful apologies were always tossed aside, and over time a few of the other long-term patients asked her to read to them as well. Ruth never yearned for attention, but those requests filled her with simple, warm, joy.
Months passed this way, and eventually Taylor reminded her that it’d been almost a year since she’d graduated and become a nurse. Coincidently perhaps, Ruth began feeling… off… not long after that.
It was subtle at first. A bit of light-headedness. A headache. Exhaustion. She wondered if she’d caught the flu but without the common symptoms. She wasn’t truly worried until she began to feel faint sometimes. Growing dizzy near the end of shifts, or randomly while at home. Tests were done - all came back normal, so she pushed through it. Kept it from her older siblings whom she didn’t want to burden.
One otherwise normal day, as the afternoon waned, Ruth was feeling it again. Her mind wandered and focusing took a concerted effort. She had to rely on auto-pilot and checklists to keep on track. When she clocked out for the day, limbs aching and head hurting, walking was the last thing she wanted to do. Her studio apartment wasn’t far if she was feeling her usual self, but she felt the warning in her whole body.
Sit. Down.
As fast as she was able, Ruth retreated to the room where she always found quiet. His room.
Her speed dropped dramatically at the doorway. Almost tip-toeing in, she looked around sheepishly, wondering if it was okay to come in when it was more for herself than the patient. Deep down she knew it had always been a comfort for /her/ to read to Jaxon. Though she held onto a silent hope it helped him too.
At the moment though, the woman’s mind was too cloudy for reading. Instead of the chair she went towards the bed. Its metal rail was cold against her fingers as she grasped it, coming up alongside as though to ask him permission. But she remained silent, looking down at the man. Her unfocused thoughts circled the most obvious thing - the man was… handsome. Ruth wondered idly if his normal expression was so peaceful. If he’d been angry a lot. If he’d been lonely.
The young nurse frowned, staring down, feeling loneliness for the man who seemed to have no one. Yet he was young, fit and-? Ruth’s brows pinched closer together, denial in her blue-grey eyes.
Something softened in her face then, as she remembered.
“Hello again-” She sighed consolingly.
“I’m sorry, I can’t read today. I’m-” Ruth halted, face growing tight.
How could she explain what she didn’t understand? That frustration worked like a switch, setting loose a wave of vertigo that blackened the edges of her vision so suddenly she grasped at the bed in a panic. A strained sound was all she could muster as legs gave out, and frantic hands clutched sheets and skin. It didn’t help, and Ruth felt gravity pull her down while the room spun around her.
Ruth blinked them back, but the satisfied grin on her face took a bit more effort to curtail. The male standing nearby looked back and laughed, seeing how proud the young woman was of herself. Taylor was her new supervisor there at the hospital, and he gave her an affectionate pat on the head that might’ve felt patronizing to some, but the blonde only hummed happily, beaming at the desk they’d share and the hospital ward all around them.
She’d done it. All on her own, working towards a solid career goal that for so long seemed so fragile a dream. Her chest was tight with so much trying to burst out.
“Heyyyy, let’s do the rounds before you get me feeling sentimental too!” Taylor gave her back a little push forward, and Ruth jolted, face warming at having been caught so lost in the moment. They both laughed as they got moving, her still happy and grinning while Taylor reminded her of the rooms they passed, introducing her to staff and doctors along the way.
That first night was light by most standards. She saw the hustle down the hall in the ER, and her heart went out to those she knew must be in real danger, but Ruth and Taylor were assigned to the ICU. She wouldn’t be working with patients in critical condition until proving herself capable here, where diligence and attention to detail were key. And then, perhaps, she’d have a choice between departments…
Weeks went by quickly. Her, trying her best. Getting used to the routines and people, getting to know patients and then inevitably having to say goodbye.
But there was one patient who didn’t leave. He didn’t move, didn’t speak, did nothing but sleep… he was there when she started, but not on her rotation, with injuries needing more experienced monitoring than she could provide. But as he healed (somewhat miraculously) the man was put under her care. Ruth checked on him like all her patients, recorded his vitals, swapped in fresh saline and the like.
Not once did she see anyone visit.
A loneliness crept up into her over time, until one day she came in on her break and sat in the chair next to his bed that was always empty.
“Hello...” she breathed, quietly.
And that’s how she began each visit to the young man. She couldn’t imagine him being much older than herself. All they knew was his name. She’d never been told anything more about him beyond that he was in otherwise perfect physical condition - once he’d healed, of course. No one seemed to know anything beside his first name, and even that they weren’t sure of. When he was brought in, no investigation could find out exactly how he’d been injured so severely.
No one had come to look for him.
Her visits became routine, every other lunch break, sometimes after her shift if the weather was bad and she had time to kill. She loved reading, so it felt natural for her to use the time to read to him. Simply ‘talking’ would be too difficult, and awkward. What would she say? What could she even tell a stranger? The idea of pouring out her thoughts made her stomach whirl.
No. Reading was safe. Easy. Fun, even. Enthusiasm that wasn’t always visible in the woman bubbled up into her voice while reading dramatic moments. Heartbreak or action, subterfuge and betrayal. Her book choices varied, though she stuck firmly with fiction.
Occasionally she’d find another patient had shuffled up to Jaxon’s doorway and was listening. Her bashful apologies were always tossed aside, and over time a few of the other long-term patients asked her to read to them as well. Ruth never yearned for attention, but those requests filled her with simple, warm, joy.
Months passed this way, and eventually Taylor reminded her that it’d been almost a year since she’d graduated and become a nurse. Coincidently perhaps, Ruth began feeling… off… not long after that.
It was subtle at first. A bit of light-headedness. A headache. Exhaustion. She wondered if she’d caught the flu but without the common symptoms. She wasn’t truly worried until she began to feel faint sometimes. Growing dizzy near the end of shifts, or randomly while at home. Tests were done - all came back normal, so she pushed through it. Kept it from her older siblings whom she didn’t want to burden.
One otherwise normal day, as the afternoon waned, Ruth was feeling it again. Her mind wandered and focusing took a concerted effort. She had to rely on auto-pilot and checklists to keep on track. When she clocked out for the day, limbs aching and head hurting, walking was the last thing she wanted to do. Her studio apartment wasn’t far if she was feeling her usual self, but she felt the warning in her whole body.
Sit. Down.
As fast as she was able, Ruth retreated to the room where she always found quiet. His room.
Her speed dropped dramatically at the doorway. Almost tip-toeing in, she looked around sheepishly, wondering if it was okay to come in when it was more for herself than the patient. Deep down she knew it had always been a comfort for /her/ to read to Jaxon. Though she held onto a silent hope it helped him too.
At the moment though, the woman’s mind was too cloudy for reading. Instead of the chair she went towards the bed. Its metal rail was cold against her fingers as she grasped it, coming up alongside as though to ask him permission. But she remained silent, looking down at the man. Her unfocused thoughts circled the most obvious thing - the man was… handsome. Ruth wondered idly if his normal expression was so peaceful. If he’d been angry a lot. If he’d been lonely.
The young nurse frowned, staring down, feeling loneliness for the man who seemed to have no one. Yet he was young, fit and-? Ruth’s brows pinched closer together, denial in her blue-grey eyes.
Something softened in her face then, as she remembered.
“Hello again-” She sighed consolingly.
“I’m sorry, I can’t read today. I’m-” Ruth halted, face growing tight.
How could she explain what she didn’t understand? That frustration worked like a switch, setting loose a wave of vertigo that blackened the edges of her vision so suddenly she grasped at the bed in a panic. A strained sound was all she could muster as legs gave out, and frantic hands clutched sheets and skin. It didn’t help, and Ruth felt gravity pull her down while the room spun around her.
There were times when Milo allowed himself to be smug.
Okay, lots of times.
But right then, his wide cheshire cat smile was tempered with relief. Times like these, he couldn’t fucking believe where he was at, what he’d gained.
He probably didn’t deserve it, but the Italian never dwelled on that too much. His Mom had always wanted him to be happy, after all.
So he sat, content as a cat, sunning himself on a warm day in nothing but his briefs, sunglasses and a random trucker hat he never could throw away. His backyard was pretty simple, and he’d put a folding lounger in the partial shade of the big trees on the property.
A mewling whine came from the covered deck attached to the house, and he turned to purse his lips at the chubby feline who’d climbed atop the railing. He smirked at it as it made another pitiful noise.
“Yeah yeah it’ll be done soon, ya’ mooch!” Milo dismissed her with a wave and a chuckle, breathing in the scent of soon-to-be eaten meat radiating from the grill on the deck. He hummed, and his stomach chimed in with its own grumble.
Among the sounds of leaves swaying and the occasional passing car, the brunette began to hear a shuffling of movement behind him, and turned to crane his neck. He was too curious not to, and his brows rose as he listened and scanned the fence. Sensing but not seeing whatever was moving. The sound was gone after a minute, and the very underdressed male rose, languidly moving to the fenceline to peek over.
Nothing.
The dirt along the base was mussed up, but…
“Ehhh.. probabilmente un randagio …” he murmured to himself, and with that he was walking back through the yard towards the house. He hummed a couple notes on the way, taking off his hat to scratch through his long-ish mop of hair before smoothing and hiding it again beneath the bright green cap.
His eyes caught some movement in the neighbors window, and he turned his head, already knowing what he’d find.
Yep. Two pairs of eyes, and the animated, youthful faces they belonged to. Milo turned on a carnivore’s smile as he held up a hand in greeting. Aaaand just as he expected, the teens twittered and giggled and then disappeared behind pretty lace curtains.
About 3 seconds later an older man leaned out the back door of the house and attempted to scold his handsome Italian neighbor.
“PUT SOME DAMN CLOTHES ON, DETECTIVE! JESus H. Christ the things this guy--” He trailed off muttering a curse as he too disappeared, but they both had smirked as they’d made eye contact. Milo knew it was all lip service to the wife, who was horrified whenever she found the twins ogling out their window. He was a ‘bad influence on their innocent minds’, or so she said. As though teenagers needed any help.
Honestly it just amused the hell outta Milo. He’d tried to tell the woman she’s got nothing to worry about. Not in the way she kept not-so-subtly implying. If he flirted with anyone it was gonna be her husband.
A soft chuckle escaped him as he reached the steps up to the patio. The wood beneath his fingertips anchored Milo’s thoughts back on how fortunate he was. A sobering line of thinking, but not an unhappy one.
His impatient feline friend hopped down at his proximity and meowed loudly, coming to rub up against Milo’s calf as he scooted past.
“Ayy, Pallina. So pushy. Aspettami, torno subito...”
Into the house and on his way out again in less than a minute, Milo was opening up a beer as he came up to the screen door, and froze just as his foot had begun to ease it open.
In that brief absence a visitor had come calling. A canine about 10 times the size of Pallina was pawing at one of the metal legs of Milo’s grill. The cat was, unsurprisingly, nowhere in sight.
“...What..? Where the hell did you come from, Lupo?” He breathed out cautiously.
The dog seemed to startle at Milo’s appearance and took a few steps back, panting, but his tail still rocked back and forth. Milo cocked a brow. He wasn’t normally anxious around dogs but this thing was uhh-- Big.
He’d never seen it before. It did resemble the pet from a few doors down (an average german shepherd), and 80% of people might’ve assumed it was, in fact, that neighbor's animal... but Milo knew at a glance it wasn’t the same dog.
Without moving or taking his eyes off the canine he took a long drawl of his beer. His stomach growled right then, and he almost spit out the liquid from laughing at himself.
The dog nervously backed up another foot.
Milo grinned, stepped fully out onto the deck and set down his beer with a sigh. He crouched to peer dubiously at the animal who’d snuck onto his property. Two fingers gripped his cap, sliding it around to sit backwards over his head, and then he reached out, palm up towards the beast. The dog made a whining noise, but did little else besides keeping his eyes on the italian.
The male ‘Hmph’d’ and set his elbows on his knees, a hand thoughtfully bracing his chin while he kept crouching. His legs quickly began to complain about the pose, so Milo stood, deciding to take a step towards the canine with his hand out again. He could see the hint of a collar peeking from amongst the thick fur at its neck. Someone owned it.
“You lost, Lupo?”
The dog balked at him coming forward and rushed down the steps, far out of the man's reach. But it stopped there, giving Milo what he felt was a questioning look. Milo tsk’d. One of his hands happened to fall and rest on the nearest thing, which was the grip handle for the grills lid. His gaze flickered to the barbeque, and then back to the dog. Understanding dawned, as did a smile that spread into slow, smug laughter.
“So that’s it, then. Everyone’s hungry, I guess. Figures.” He rolled those hazel eyes, and lifted the lid. Pallina meowed right on queue, tensely perched behind Milo on the roof of his truck next to the patio. Milo picked up a pair of long metal tongs and pointed accusingly at the stray-turned-pet.
“Another mooch, eh? You’ll have to share now, Caro. Can’t be rude to guests.” The cat's tail bobbed back and forth and Milo went about the business of flipping the handful of things he had cooking. The dog whined, padding back up the stairs to stare, tongue hanging from a toothy grin.
Milo pursed his lips at the dog, a disapproving parental look only lasting a second before melting into a smirk.
“Yeah, yeah... But YOU gotta have manners too, Lupo.”
With a thud the brunette shut the grill - probably another 5 minutes or so. Giving him 5 minutes to see about the canine.
Those five minutes were spent in the yard, Milo taking ginger steps toward the dog, and the dog (usually) not having any of it. Once or twice he got close enough for the big guy to lean it’s head forward and sniff at the man’s hand, but then it spooked and trotted off again. It never left the yard though.
Milo almost hoped it would, and become someone else's problem, but the large shepherd-ish canine seemed set on eating. The italian was brooding now, pouting at the animal as he pulled a steak off the grill. It was quick work cutting bite-sized chunks off, and the brunette popped one in his mouth and stared at the dog. It responded with a whine.
“Think you’re being cute, Mm?” Milo lips pursed and hazel eyes narrowed, and then he threw a piece towards the dog. It obediently came forward to snatch the tasty morsel, then waited expectantly for more. The brunette rubbed the back of his hand over the warm beige of his cheek and jawline, thinking. Wondering what he’d do with this big boy if he stuck around until dark.
Some gears in his head worked to call up info he rarely needed but knew was there in his head. Dog breeds. German Shepherd? Not cheap, even mixed. Needed to be cared for. And /this/ dog…Well, it looked well taken care of. Milo had never delved into the topic further, so there was nothing else that came to mind.
He threw another piece to ‘Lupo’, and one to the kitty making a racket behind him. An easy grin warmed what most would’ve seen as a grim deadpan, and he started putting all the food onto the patio table. The dog paced forward, eager.
Okay, lots of times.
But right then, his wide cheshire cat smile was tempered with relief. Times like these, he couldn’t fucking believe where he was at, what he’d gained.
He probably didn’t deserve it, but the Italian never dwelled on that too much. His Mom had always wanted him to be happy, after all.
So he sat, content as a cat, sunning himself on a warm day in nothing but his briefs, sunglasses and a random trucker hat he never could throw away. His backyard was pretty simple, and he’d put a folding lounger in the partial shade of the big trees on the property.
A mewling whine came from the covered deck attached to the house, and he turned to purse his lips at the chubby feline who’d climbed atop the railing. He smirked at it as it made another pitiful noise.
“Yeah yeah it’ll be done soon, ya’ mooch!” Milo dismissed her with a wave and a chuckle, breathing in the scent of soon-to-be eaten meat radiating from the grill on the deck. He hummed, and his stomach chimed in with its own grumble.
Among the sounds of leaves swaying and the occasional passing car, the brunette began to hear a shuffling of movement behind him, and turned to crane his neck. He was too curious not to, and his brows rose as he listened and scanned the fence. Sensing but not seeing whatever was moving. The sound was gone after a minute, and the very underdressed male rose, languidly moving to the fenceline to peek over.
Nothing.
The dirt along the base was mussed up, but…
“Ehhh.. probabilmente un randagio …” he murmured to himself, and with that he was walking back through the yard towards the house. He hummed a couple notes on the way, taking off his hat to scratch through his long-ish mop of hair before smoothing and hiding it again beneath the bright green cap.
His eyes caught some movement in the neighbors window, and he turned his head, already knowing what he’d find.
Yep. Two pairs of eyes, and the animated, youthful faces they belonged to. Milo turned on a carnivore’s smile as he held up a hand in greeting. Aaaand just as he expected, the teens twittered and giggled and then disappeared behind pretty lace curtains.
About 3 seconds later an older man leaned out the back door of the house and attempted to scold his handsome Italian neighbor.
“PUT SOME DAMN CLOTHES ON, DETECTIVE! JESus H. Christ the things this guy--” He trailed off muttering a curse as he too disappeared, but they both had smirked as they’d made eye contact. Milo knew it was all lip service to the wife, who was horrified whenever she found the twins ogling out their window. He was a ‘bad influence on their innocent minds’, or so she said. As though teenagers needed any help.
Honestly it just amused the hell outta Milo. He’d tried to tell the woman she’s got nothing to worry about. Not in the way she kept not-so-subtly implying. If he flirted with anyone it was gonna be her husband.
A soft chuckle escaped him as he reached the steps up to the patio. The wood beneath his fingertips anchored Milo’s thoughts back on how fortunate he was. A sobering line of thinking, but not an unhappy one.
His impatient feline friend hopped down at his proximity and meowed loudly, coming to rub up against Milo’s calf as he scooted past.
“Ayy, Pallina. So pushy. Aspettami, torno subito...”
Into the house and on his way out again in less than a minute, Milo was opening up a beer as he came up to the screen door, and froze just as his foot had begun to ease it open.
In that brief absence a visitor had come calling. A canine about 10 times the size of Pallina was pawing at one of the metal legs of Milo’s grill. The cat was, unsurprisingly, nowhere in sight.
“...What..? Where the hell did you come from, Lupo?” He breathed out cautiously.
The dog seemed to startle at Milo’s appearance and took a few steps back, panting, but his tail still rocked back and forth. Milo cocked a brow. He wasn’t normally anxious around dogs but this thing was uhh-- Big.
He’d never seen it before. It did resemble the pet from a few doors down (an average german shepherd), and 80% of people might’ve assumed it was, in fact, that neighbor's animal... but Milo knew at a glance it wasn’t the same dog.
Without moving or taking his eyes off the canine he took a long drawl of his beer. His stomach growled right then, and he almost spit out the liquid from laughing at himself.
The dog nervously backed up another foot.
Milo grinned, stepped fully out onto the deck and set down his beer with a sigh. He crouched to peer dubiously at the animal who’d snuck onto his property. Two fingers gripped his cap, sliding it around to sit backwards over his head, and then he reached out, palm up towards the beast. The dog made a whining noise, but did little else besides keeping his eyes on the italian.
The male ‘Hmph’d’ and set his elbows on his knees, a hand thoughtfully bracing his chin while he kept crouching. His legs quickly began to complain about the pose, so Milo stood, deciding to take a step towards the canine with his hand out again. He could see the hint of a collar peeking from amongst the thick fur at its neck. Someone owned it.
“You lost, Lupo?”
The dog balked at him coming forward and rushed down the steps, far out of the man's reach. But it stopped there, giving Milo what he felt was a questioning look. Milo tsk’d. One of his hands happened to fall and rest on the nearest thing, which was the grip handle for the grills lid. His gaze flickered to the barbeque, and then back to the dog. Understanding dawned, as did a smile that spread into slow, smug laughter.
“So that’s it, then. Everyone’s hungry, I guess. Figures.” He rolled those hazel eyes, and lifted the lid. Pallina meowed right on queue, tensely perched behind Milo on the roof of his truck next to the patio. Milo picked up a pair of long metal tongs and pointed accusingly at the stray-turned-pet.
“Another mooch, eh? You’ll have to share now, Caro. Can’t be rude to guests.” The cat's tail bobbed back and forth and Milo went about the business of flipping the handful of things he had cooking. The dog whined, padding back up the stairs to stare, tongue hanging from a toothy grin.
Milo pursed his lips at the dog, a disapproving parental look only lasting a second before melting into a smirk.
“Yeah, yeah... But YOU gotta have manners too, Lupo.”
With a thud the brunette shut the grill - probably another 5 minutes or so. Giving him 5 minutes to see about the canine.
Those five minutes were spent in the yard, Milo taking ginger steps toward the dog, and the dog (usually) not having any of it. Once or twice he got close enough for the big guy to lean it’s head forward and sniff at the man’s hand, but then it spooked and trotted off again. It never left the yard though.
Milo almost hoped it would, and become someone else's problem, but the large shepherd-ish canine seemed set on eating. The italian was brooding now, pouting at the animal as he pulled a steak off the grill. It was quick work cutting bite-sized chunks off, and the brunette popped one in his mouth and stared at the dog. It responded with a whine.
“Think you’re being cute, Mm?” Milo lips pursed and hazel eyes narrowed, and then he threw a piece towards the dog. It obediently came forward to snatch the tasty morsel, then waited expectantly for more. The brunette rubbed the back of his hand over the warm beige of his cheek and jawline, thinking. Wondering what he’d do with this big boy if he stuck around until dark.
Some gears in his head worked to call up info he rarely needed but knew was there in his head. Dog breeds. German Shepherd? Not cheap, even mixed. Needed to be cared for. And /this/ dog…Well, it looked well taken care of. Milo had never delved into the topic further, so there was nothing else that came to mind.
He threw another piece to ‘Lupo’, and one to the kitty making a racket behind him. An easy grin warmed what most would’ve seen as a grim deadpan, and he started putting all the food onto the patio table. The dog paced forward, eager.
The sounds of shuffling, dragging feet had been commonplace to Renee for quite some time. So much so that nowadays she almost didn't hear it; and that was especially true at times like these, when she allowed herself to relax and actually sleep. With a tired sigh she snuggled deeper into her well-worn sleeping bag, allowing herself to indulge in the comforting warmth and darkness. These small moments never lasted long - but she’d take what she could get, for as long as she could get it.
In the three years since this new world began Renee had, like many, been forced to adapt to survive. Darkness had become her ally, where she was most comfortable. Enclosed spaces used to feel like traps… but she’d learnt to seek them out wherever she was forced to stop. Cold, metal sheets surrounded her now, the little nest she'd made for herself hidden in the large ducts of an older, but mostly intact, building. Positioned with access to both interior and outer vent openings, she felt as safe as possible. All things considered.
Renee's eyes shot open at the sound of breaking glass, brown eyes glaring into the dark, confused but alert. Her muscles had tensed from the shock of that piercing sound. Was that one of the dead? Was there a human group plundering? She strained, unmoving, to hear anything... but from where she was the only thing she could be sure of made her jaw clench. The dead were definitely moving faster. That could only mean one thing - a living person was nearby. A moment later she was easing out of the sleeping bag and crawling to the interior vent grate, frowning. Either way she wanted to find out what was going on.
With a muted thud, her backpack was tossed to the floor below, Renee following it with a grunt as she landed. In the small closet where she had exited the vents she emptied some non-essential items out of her bag and put them back up before closing the grate. Staying light was going to be the priority for now, she just wanted to take a look after all. Boots on, and one deep breath later, she was pulling a hat over her head as he jogged down the hallway to the roof access.
“Dammit…” she mumbled, the sun blinding as she opened the outer hatch. Her eyes mostly shut against the sunlight, she clumsily climbed out onto the roof, grimacing as her eyesight slowly adjusted. Gunshots rang out as she crawled towards the edge, and she froze for a moment at how close they sounded. She quickly spotted the group of undead once she was peeking over - as well as the man now fighting desperately with a knife. She glared at the situation unfolding. ‘Fuck… now what do i do…’ she mumbled, irritation lacing her words. Renee wasn’t the best fighter, and putting herself on the ground, and in danger, wasn’t a plan she ever liked. If the man had been with a group she'd have no regrets about turning around and going back to sleep. But she was alone… and probably going to die if Renee didn’t do something.
The young woman turned away from the roof’s edge for a moment, anxiously running a hand over her face and then removing her hat to rake through wavey brown hair. Renee already knew what she was going to do… she just wasn't happy about it. Checking one more time that the other man wasn't already dead, she put the baseball cap back on and shuffled on hands and feet back to the hatch.
Once back on the ground floor, she grabbed the modified hockey stick she traveled with. One side sharpened into a point for stabbing, and on the other she’d macgyver'd a large knife, creating a poor excuse for a pike. Like most things these days it wasn’t pretty or graceful, but it worked for her, and she gripped it tightly as she left the building's side entrance. All nearby undead were focused on the stranger and she was able to move quickly to where he was. Unfortunately the man was now on the ground, and Renee knew she had to act that instant if he was going to survive. There was no way around it, she either went straight in or may as well leave the man to his fate. The brunette could hear the voice of someone in her mind then, a voice from her past, optimistic and hopeful. A voice she only remembered at the most inconvenient times.
Swallowing down her fear, she ran full speed into the handful of undead, hockey stick braced in front with both hands, perpendicular to the ground. With a grunt as she made contact, she lunged, putting her entire weight into it, willing the momentum to be enough.
The things stumbled away, a few fell, one somehow twirled along the end of the stick and ended up facing her. She was forced to stab it, practice doing its job and overruling her panic.
“Get up, get up!” she impatiently hissed at the man on the ground. Renee couldn’t fight them all alone, she was already breathing hard. The guy had to get up, and fast. They didn’t have time to waste while the few she had knocked down recovered and began to turn towards the pair. She was already bracing her feet to run back the way she’d come.
In the three years since this new world began Renee had, like many, been forced to adapt to survive. Darkness had become her ally, where she was most comfortable. Enclosed spaces used to feel like traps… but she’d learnt to seek them out wherever she was forced to stop. Cold, metal sheets surrounded her now, the little nest she'd made for herself hidden in the large ducts of an older, but mostly intact, building. Positioned with access to both interior and outer vent openings, she felt as safe as possible. All things considered.
Renee's eyes shot open at the sound of breaking glass, brown eyes glaring into the dark, confused but alert. Her muscles had tensed from the shock of that piercing sound. Was that one of the dead? Was there a human group plundering? She strained, unmoving, to hear anything... but from where she was the only thing she could be sure of made her jaw clench. The dead were definitely moving faster. That could only mean one thing - a living person was nearby. A moment later she was easing out of the sleeping bag and crawling to the interior vent grate, frowning. Either way she wanted to find out what was going on.
With a muted thud, her backpack was tossed to the floor below, Renee following it with a grunt as she landed. In the small closet where she had exited the vents she emptied some non-essential items out of her bag and put them back up before closing the grate. Staying light was going to be the priority for now, she just wanted to take a look after all. Boots on, and one deep breath later, she was pulling a hat over her head as he jogged down the hallway to the roof access.
“Dammit…” she mumbled, the sun blinding as she opened the outer hatch. Her eyes mostly shut against the sunlight, she clumsily climbed out onto the roof, grimacing as her eyesight slowly adjusted. Gunshots rang out as she crawled towards the edge, and she froze for a moment at how close they sounded. She quickly spotted the group of undead once she was peeking over - as well as the man now fighting desperately with a knife. She glared at the situation unfolding. ‘Fuck… now what do i do…’ she mumbled, irritation lacing her words. Renee wasn’t the best fighter, and putting herself on the ground, and in danger, wasn’t a plan she ever liked. If the man had been with a group she'd have no regrets about turning around and going back to sleep. But she was alone… and probably going to die if Renee didn’t do something.
The young woman turned away from the roof’s edge for a moment, anxiously running a hand over her face and then removing her hat to rake through wavey brown hair. Renee already knew what she was going to do… she just wasn't happy about it. Checking one more time that the other man wasn't already dead, she put the baseball cap back on and shuffled on hands and feet back to the hatch.
Once back on the ground floor, she grabbed the modified hockey stick she traveled with. One side sharpened into a point for stabbing, and on the other she’d macgyver'd a large knife, creating a poor excuse for a pike. Like most things these days it wasn’t pretty or graceful, but it worked for her, and she gripped it tightly as she left the building's side entrance. All nearby undead were focused on the stranger and she was able to move quickly to where he was. Unfortunately the man was now on the ground, and Renee knew she had to act that instant if he was going to survive. There was no way around it, she either went straight in or may as well leave the man to his fate. The brunette could hear the voice of someone in her mind then, a voice from her past, optimistic and hopeful. A voice she only remembered at the most inconvenient times.
Swallowing down her fear, she ran full speed into the handful of undead, hockey stick braced in front with both hands, perpendicular to the ground. With a grunt as she made contact, she lunged, putting her entire weight into it, willing the momentum to be enough.
The things stumbled away, a few fell, one somehow twirled along the end of the stick and ended up facing her. She was forced to stab it, practice doing its job and overruling her panic.
“Get up, get up!” she impatiently hissed at the man on the ground. Renee couldn’t fight them all alone, she was already breathing hard. The guy had to get up, and fast. They didn’t have time to waste while the few she had knocked down recovered and began to turn towards the pair. She was already bracing her feet to run back the way she’d come.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~
I'll post some plots soon.
If you'd like to chat about possibly starting up a roleplay, it would be appreciated if you let me know what you're interests are, what part (if any) of my post here caught your eye, and include a writing sample. I ask for a sample because I've found it to be a good way for me to sense if we'll be compatible as writing partners.