forum Pet Zombie???? Closed //stalkers welcome//

Started April 18, 2022 by @Celeste_X0X0_ group

tune

Here are my boys!

Name: David Hillspeed (he doesn’t have a nickname, but accepts anything but Dave)
Age: 34
Gender/pronouns: Male he/him
Sexuality: straight
Shipping: haha I mean shoot for it but he’s not really relationship material
Appearance:
My art of him

Alright, my white boy is 5’3 ft tall and weighs roughly 98 pounds. He’s built like a weak twig and you can tell lol. His dusty brown hair is cut pretty neat and short, but is tussled up enough to look choppy and messy the majority of the time. No facial hair besides a bit of sideburns. He has a pretty narrow face and small chin, and his cheekbone is pretty defined. His nice, long pointed nose and thin lips match his lean appearance but are contrasted by his big, round ears and brown eyes. His eyebrows aren’t necessarily thick, but they have a dramatic arch and are very expressive. He wears a long sleeved, white button up shirt that has a few tears on the hem and cuffs by now and maybe a stain or two. I dunno how someone would keep a white shirt unstained in an apocalypse. He wears cream colored slacks and has a brown, pin-striped suit coat. I’m sure he used to have a tie, lol, but it’s long since been ditched. His brown loafers are stained and a little falling apart, but they’re still shoes. They were like that before zombies came into the picture though lol. He also wears a pair of big, square glasses. Basically every feature/thing about him is long and slim.
Personality: (optional)
:’) I’m really bad at explaining personalities so bear with me lol.
He’s definitely extroverted and is super obnoxious and overwhelming 90% of the time. He is really clever, and is aware of it lol. He knows that he’s smart and therefore is fine with taking his time on things because he’s not worried. Even if it’s life or death things. In other words, he’s pretty arrogant haha. He is no good at fighting, but he isn’t a coward. Some things freak him out? But most things just fascinate him. He’s very excitable and has a great sense of humor, even if it’s a little weird or rude the majority of the time.
Backstory: (also optional)
He’s pretty open about his backstory so I won't put much here since people can just ask tbh. He was adopted and grew up with a wealthy family in London, so he has a thick British accent. Graduated school early, both high school and college. He went on to earn a PhD and work in science and medicine. He lost his wife near the very beginning of the outbreak due to an accident that was mostly his fault, but he’s really good at blocking things out or pretending they didn’t happen lol, so you won't catch him sulking.

Name: Ryder (I just realized I never gave this poor boy a last name)
Age: 23
Gender/pronouns: male he/him
Sexuality: :’) heck if i know
Shipping: He’s always up for grabs
Appearance:
My art of him

This monster stands 6’3 ft tall and weighs a hefty 215-225 pounds. He’s a very big, beefy guy haha, and is super muscular and his skin is a rich tan (Pinterest says it's called creamy cocoa? :’)). His ashy roots fade into a pale white and his wavy hair used to be buzzed to the crown but has since grown an inch or two so it lays down. The hair from his crown on is just an inch below his shoulders and is normally pulled up in a bun, ponytail or braids. When it’s down, it falls into soft waves. No facial hair on this guy either, and his eyebrows are thick and ashy grey. He has a very square face with a sharp and defined jaw. His nose is shorter, big/round and more downturned, and his lips are thick and pretty round. Despite his big nose and thick lips, his orange eyes are small and almond shaped. It sounds disproportionate bc it is lol. He has a great smile, and his canines are sharp and more pointed. My guy has piercings galore. Eyebrow rings, a septum piercing along with both sides of his nose pierced. An industrial piercing on the left ear along with three top piercings and one bottom. He has two top and two bottom piercings on the right ear. Both of his nipples are pierced and his tongue. Besides all of these, though, he doesn’t really wear much jewelry besides a thin silver chain or two around his neck and an orange thread, handmade anklet. He doesn’t really… wear a shirt? But I’ll give him a thin, white tank with the arm holes slit down the sides. He has grey, low waisted sweats that are loose and cuff at the ankles, and with a pair of tan sandals he never wears. He does have sunglasses! He has oddly nice nails, but I think that’s the last detail.
Personality: (optional)
Ryder is very sociable and friendly and really quickly makes friends because he’s good at quickly determining what someone likes and dislikes, where their boundaries are and such. He goofs off a lot, but is pretty clever and mostly just uses humor to keep the mood light and relaxed. He can definitely be serious, but it doesn’t happen unless he thinks it’s completely necessary. He’s really reassuring and quickly gets attached to people, but is also not afraid to kill a threat and definitely has the strength to take someone down with his bare hands.
Backstory: (also optional)
Ryder is pretty closed up about his past so I’ll jot down the important stuff here. He grew up in a desert area within a very strict and violent community. His parents were locked up when he was nine and he eventually just assumed the authorities had executed them after a few years and a few visits to the dungeons. He’s been mostly on his own and has had little to no education. He is smart in the way that he’s good at plan-making and martial arts. One of the only forms of education he ever received was martial arts training. The start of the apocalypse drove the leaders of his already twisted homeland to more violence and they became among the few that viewed the zombies as powerful, superior and useful. Obviously, he got away as fast as he could with a good bit of struggle. Let’s just say my boy is glad to be free of the masochist cult leaders he’d grown up under.

Name: Clovis James Stan (the only nickname he’s ever been given is ‘idiot’ and that was purely bc he hates that word loll)
Age: 25
Gender/pronouns: male he/him
Sexuality: I’m just gonna say bi
Shipping: always
Appearance:
My art of him

This big ol’ Russian teddy bear is 6’4ft and weighs probably around 240 pounds? Not all of his weight is muscle, but the good majority of it is. I’ll leave a photo at the end of his google doc link for body type bc I’m so bad at explaining specifically his :’) he’s very beefy lol I cannot think of a better word for it. His wavy brown hair is shoulder length and parted in the middle and he has a good section in the front that is shorter and falls in his face often (they’re overgrown bangs lollll). He has a little bit of a scruff. He has a nice, defined jaw and cheekbone and regular eyebrows ig? His nose is on the bigger side I’d say? And his lips are definitely thicker, but they’re not super round like Ryders. He has very sad eyes, that are almost downturned and always look sleepy. They’re a foggy, rainy grey and lined with thick lashes. My guy gives a lot of soft and sad smiles and is awfully good at masking what he is feeling. He has a gentle, more scratchy type of voice and doesn’t really have an accent unless he speaks Russian. He wears a faded green hoodie with a clover on the front (I’ll go ahead and say he’s got a blue solid-colored Tshirt underneath), a pair of blue jeans that are a bit roughed up and a pair of brown boots.
Personality: (optional)
Clovis is super gentle and kind despite his rough/lumberjack looks haha. He adopts people very quickly and is very good at encouraging others. He doesn’t really have boundaries haha, so he doesn’t really say no that much. He is what I like to call an ambivert and walks the line between extroverted and introverted. He’s always got a very sad feeling about him, whether or not there seems to be a reason, just because he’s depressed honestly lol. But he is an angel.
Backstory: (also optional)
He will share if you ask :) I’m too lazy to write it bc there is so much lol

Name: Onyx Rimwell Stan (his mom called him Icarus often so? That’s the nickname ig)
Age: 8
Gender/pronouns: male he/him
Appearance:
My art of him

I’m not sure how tall an eight year old boy is :’) But he’s a normal height and is pretty thin and lanky. He has black, straight hair that is cut just an inch or two below his ears. He often has on a headband across his forehead, his hair spilling over. He has a round face and a rounded nose like his dads, but he has his moms smaller, slanted eyes. His lips are thick and round and his eyes are a foggy, deep orange. He’s very pale and constantly looks tired and rosy cheeked. He has a scar over his bottom lip to the tip of his chin. He wears an oversized, foggy blue T-shirt and a pair of tan khaki shorts and tan sandals. He wears a makeshift utility belt tied around his waist and multiple simple necklaces, a few woven handmade anklets and bracelets and a pair of leather-bound fingerless gloves.
Personality: (optional)
Onyx is very quiet. He is not shy, he just likes to stay on the side lines and listen. He is very clever and an amazing listener. He’s awfully serious for a kid, but a lot of oldest children are. He is a pro at listening and feeling, since he has been blind since he was a baby. His mother made sure he knew how to use what he could to “see” what was around him, whether that be vibrations or textures or such. This kid doesn’t put up with BS.
Backstory: (also optional)
TBD

⬥8:24am⬥

Cassius sits up in his bed, the sunlight flitting in through the old windows creating a soft golden ray along his dark skin.
He runs his calloused hands over his face with a heavy sigh, knowing he slept in a little more than he would have liked to. Him and Ophelia had a decently long day ahead of them, as they had planned to run a few errands, go fishing if they could and they had also wanted to plant a few flowers in front of the house.
They had found it about a month or two ago and had been living in it ever since. It was a decently large farmhouse with two stories, three bedrooms, two bathrooms, living room and a kitchen.
Cass turns his head to look at his daughter curled up underneath the covers, still asleep. He pulls the thin sheet over her shoulder before getting out of bed slowly so he wouldn't wake her. It was early enough he didn't need to wake her up. Not yet at least.
He pulls his hair up into a messy bun with one of his old scrunchies that started out as a light pink but as time passed and it got worn down, its color faded to a pinkish gray color.
He lets strands of blonde, wavy hair fall into his face as he tightens the scrunchie.
Changing into a loose gray t-shirt, he heads down the creaky dark oak stairs and into the living room then making his way to the kitchen to fix breakfast. They didn't have much but they had a small farm surrounded by their fenced in backyard. Cass didn't want to think about going out there to pick off some of the walkers but he had to in order to keep them safe. He would normally do it when Ophelia was asleep or when she was up in her room playing. Anywhere away from them..
His bare feet touching the cold tile of the kitchen sends a chill up his spine and throughout his body. He takes a deep breath and runs his hands up and down his arms to warm himself up before assessing everything they had in the kitchen before deciding to step outside and deal with the walkers if there were any. Normally there would only be about 3 every other day lining the fence and walls, as they were in a very quiet, secluded place.

Jesse had been up for about an hour or two already, already having a very eventful day as she woke up to about 12 zombies surrounding the beat up rv she had been hauling around and was now posted on the side of the road as she ran out of gas a few days ago. She was still a good bit away from any life other than these zombies.
Now she sat on the roof of the rv with her machete as it rocked back and forth by the weight of the dead. Cursing under her breath, she leans off the side of the roof, reaching her machete towards one of their heads.
i'm not close enough to even touch it. Let alone kill it she thought to herself, hauling her body back up to the center of the roof, setting the machete down beside her and laying down to face the sky. She squints, the wind throwing her dark tangled hair in her face.

August 24, day 182, in this barren wasteland I used to call home. I just celebrated my 21 birthday a few weeks ago, but it was just as shitty as life has been. I have no friends or family left, and I can’t trust anyone. They all have their own secret agendas—a lot of people would look forward to killing me. My nightmares have gotten worse, filled with flames and dying screams. They’re more frequent. During the time I do have to rest, I thrash and kick. Unfortunately, I have developed screaming in my sleep, which attracts all the zombies around. I have resorted to too little sleep; it works the best.

I’ve been running into more strangers, all of whom are insane and out of touch. My paranoia is at an all-time high and my panic attacks are killing me. The only thing that hasn’t affected me as of late is my flashbacks. I’ve also run out of my medication. It was the only thing helping me with my PTSD symptoms, but now might be the death of me

End of log.

Jax looked up from his notebook and glanced around. Something was off. He could sense it in the air. Something was looking for him. Coming to kill him. He wasn’t ready to come to terms with death yet. The sound of grueling zombies infested his brain once again. Jax was trying his best. He stood himself up, putting his notebook in his satchel, and poked his head out of his safe house. Zombies—a little group of them. Great  he thought. Stepping out of the safe house, he got to work with nailing them down one by one. Looking at what once was the horde, he decided it was better to get a move on. He climbed over the fence that kept the zombies out and people in. Landing in the dirt, it wafted up and irritated his airways. He started to cough violently, attracting more zombies to him. Jax booked it before he could be torn apart, looking for another safe place less populated with the creatures.

The yellow, early morning sun slips behind the looming grey clouds again, leaving the breeze to feel that much colder in it’s absence.
Clovis hefts Onyx up, stepping over a fallen tree as he carries him asleep on his back.
He’s exhausted from last night, I’m sure, but we’ll have to get something to eat soon and I won’t be able to carry him.
He sighs, pushing a branch out of his way while marching on. A break in the trees ahead reveals an open field and what looks to be a road between the dense forest and road. It was still a good few yards away but-
He freezes, furrowing his brow and holding his breath as he listens.
Damn it, are you kidding me?
The strained moaning and mumbling of the zombies ahead was faint, but he could still clearly hear it.
They must be out by the road, since they’re not snapping any twigs.
He squints, resuming his breathing but silently now.
“They must have found something.”
Onyx’s soft voice startles Clovis and he quickly glances over his shoulder then back ahead, listening to hear what Onyx heard.
Onyx blinks, staring ahead of them while idly fidgeting with Clovis’ shirt. “They aren’t just wandering, they sound strained.” He quietly explains.
Clovis stays completely silent, then nods. “You’re right.” He quietly slips Onyx off of his back, straightening out Onyx’s shirt and picking a leaf out of his hair.
“Best option is out there, huh?”
Onyx stares towards the ground, rubbing his eyes and yawning. “Well, it’s better than going back.”
Nodding, Clovis turns to face the edge of the forest again. He puts an arm out in front of Onyx and Onyx takes ahold of the back of his shirt. “I’ll stay behind you,” He reassures before Clovis can tell him what to do.
Clovis pulls his revolver from it’s makeshift holster, quietly continuing forward.

(They’re near Jesse in case that’s not clear)

Looking up to the sky, she watches as the clouds roll in to cover the sun. The only source of heat she had.
She shivers, remembering how she left her jacket inside of the RV. She had taken it off for better mobility for fighting the zombies. But she had also gotten ahead of herself and her invincibility complex had been taken a tad bit too far. Now she was trapped.
The scratching of the zombies decaying nails against the metal of the RV was grating to her ears no matter how used to it she was and the shuffling of feet against the gravel made her want to crawl out of her skin.
Did she show that? hell no. She didn't show weakness to even herself most of the time, in constant denial of the fact that she's allowed to have actual human emotions.
Jesse sits back up to look at the zombies, glaring down at them before standing up. A slight gust of wing rolls through, carrying the smell of rotting flesh to her nose and making her gag. She covers her mouth and nose for a hot second as she waits impatiently for the wind to die down. The smell was still awful but it was a lot better when it wasn't windy.
Looking over the field to scope out how many were making their way towards her, she only counted about 3, maybe 4.
"I swear…" she complains "if it rains I'm gonna be pissed" Jesse says, stepping onto the other side of the roof and hopping down, making sure to avoid a small patch where the zombies were. Her combat boots hitting the gravel, sending a small shock of pain in her ankles when she lands.
//slight gore warning ahead you dont have to read this//
She looks around, gripping hard onto the leather handle of her machete as a zombie came her way. Her size was a big advantage but that didnt matter as much with a hoard of zombies.
She swings the machete hard into the zombies skull when it gets close enough. She felt the cracking of the decaying skull in the vibration of her weapon upon impact. At first it grossed her out but she quickly got used to as she did that with about 3 more zombies.
The machete stays wedged inside of one of the zombies head as it falls to the ground. She quickly puts her foot on one side of the head, its skull caving in due to her weight (and ya know its literally decaying) and she jerks the machete out of its head, whipping around to the sound of a growl from behind her she swings the machete once more.

Stepping out into the open, Clovis pauses for a moment, Onyx only a step behind. He’s just in time to watch as Jesse lands on the ground and takes out four walkers, turning to strike another. He glances around to assess the situation, spotting the four zombies to their right across the field heading their way.
Onyx places a hand on the hilt of his (own) knife as if to remind himself it was there if it was needed. He tugs once on the back of Clovis’ shirt to silently let him know he was ready to go.
It only takes a few steps for Clovis before deciding he was close enough to fire. He aims his revolver, taking out two then three zombies, alerting all of the others to his presence.
Even though this whole zombie thing has been going on for a while now, the sight of the zombies turning and slugging over towards himself and Onyx was still a sight that made his heart drop; a sight that still made him fight panic setting in. He swallows, taking a few more shots.
Theres only seven left, we’ve got this.
He holds his ground even as their stench fills the cool air around him, making onyx cough behind his back.

Jax made an effort to make no noise. His footsteps only left tracks. No noise. Fining another safe house wasn't going to be easy, but he could manage. He squinted his eyes as his body was shocked by the bright sun. He could feel the pain behind his eyes as a way his body told him he needed sleep. That wasn't going to happen. Jax was aware of a small farm 20 meters from here, but bad news for him, he needed to walk through the forest. He prepared his satchel and readied a knife. Stepping over a log, he started his journey through the thick foliage. The ground was trampled from zombies paving their own paths. All the mud from the night's previous rain turned into cracked dirt, leaves, and acorns stuck in. He could hear the groans and smell the rotting flesh of zombies. In a dense area like this, the temperature dropped, and he could feel the cold air on his skin.

Trotting along the rugged path he knew, he spotted two zombies and groaned. He could barely keep himself up, and now he had to fight zombies. Jax looked at his silver knife and locked eyes with the zombies. He walked up to them, brandished his knife, and (Gore warning) slit their throats, the blood spraying all over him. He drove the knife into their empty skulls, watching the dirty zombie blood leak out. The two zombies fell to the ground dead (Again). He continued on his way, cutting his arm on a branch. "Shit." He muttered, holding the gash with his other hand. He made his way through the forest, gazing over the rolling farmland (He should be where Cass is or near). Jax spotted the old farmhouse he visited as a child and smiled, but it brought up memories. Jax completed the last of his journey, reaching the door of the house. He wasn't sure if someone had taken refuge or not, so he gave the door a little knock. Whoever opened it could see a 21-year-old covered in blood with a large gash on his left arm.

Frenchie crinkled her nose as the smell of the decayed remains of a now thoroughly beaten walker reached her nose. She shook the blood off of her worn baseball bat as best she could before holstering it in it's usual loop in the utility belt around her waist before continuing down the empty city streets.

She needed to get out of here, she'd already stalled enough with her two week rest here and needed to keep moving. But to keep going meant another risky dash through the woods and she'd barely gotten out of the last one with her life, if the newly sewn patches on the old soccer jersey she always wore were any testament to it.

Frenchie took a quiet breath and made her way down another side street, constantly watching her back and ducking behind garbage cans and broken pieces of rubble when she needed. Because of her small stature, Frenchie found it was a lot easier for her to hide and find cover than most people. But that also made escape when she was cornered that much harder seeing as it made her stride that much shorter. But it's why she'd taken up running. If she couldn't be tall, she could certainly be fast.

Frenchie did as she does best in this broken city filled with dead people trying to eat her. Move to higher ground. So in she ducked to an old high rise apartment building and started up the stairs, leaping over decayed pieces and weak spots as she climbed quietly. Tomorrow. Tomorrow she would brave the woods and move forward.

(I know we literally just started but i already love this roleplay with my whole heart)

Cass slips on his battered steel-toed boots, the black leather peeling and the color fading from them. The souls were only a little bit thinner than when he first found them in the shed near the farm house. They were a little tight but they were a lot better than the ones he had before.
He steps to the stone fireplace in his living room, grabbing one of the fire irons and reaching for the handle of the door.
But that's when he heard a knock.
Cassius froze in place, his heart beating hard now and his mouth dry. It was another human obviously. But from where? Cass had given up hope of finding another human around here long ago. Why now?
He looks back towards the stairs in the living room. Ophelia should be sound asleep still. Though she was a light sleeper so she could have been woken up by the knock.
oh no and she's going to wake up and I'm not going to be there….i hope she doesn't get sad about it.. he thought, feeling mean for leaving her up there. The two had become very co-dependent in this world that was for sure. What else was he supposed to do?
Cass takes a deep breath and unlocks the door with a small click before turning the knob and opening the large oak door.
He blinks a few times in awe looking down at the boy, his eyes wide.
should I invite him in? no my daughters in there. But he's covered in blood. He could have rabies? he could have been bitten. Obviously I'm going to help him if he wants some but-
His mind was going a thousand miles per hour. What to do. What to do.
Dark clouds were already rolling in, though they were still a good bit away from them Cass couldn't leave him out here alone in the storm when it did come. For now the sun hadn't been covered from where they were just yet so he had time to think.
Though all he could get out was a simple "hello"
His voice was a bit scratchy but calm and his lips offered a small smile that threatened to disappear any second.

_

Jesse swings her machete into the side of the fourth zombies skull, kicking it in the chest to push it back, the machete ripping out of its head as it falls to the ground, toppling over one of the bodies.
She basically jumps out of her skin at the sound of gunshots, her eyes wide and lungs froze as she panics. She quickly ducks behind the RV, though having to take out 2 other zombies while she was at it. She peaks out, looking around for the shooter. She hoped to God that whoever it was, they weren't shooting at her. She's ran into too many groups (she's definitely overexaggerating this only happened once) that tried to kill her and sometimes eat her as well. Maybe it was because she was so beefy. That's what she thought the reason was. She would taste good, she knew it. Or maybe that was her god complex talking.
She tries to catch her breath but with every inhale she wants to throw up, able to taste the flesh around her, the cold air around her almost burning her already dry throat.
The gunshots seemed to be taking out the zombies. four left now that she took out those three. She wanted to come out but wasn't sure that was the best idea. Who in their right mind would step into the line of fire willingly unless they had a death wish?
Her hand goes down to her holster to grab her pistol, though irritated she left the silencer in the RV. That silencer had become her best friend in this world.
Though when she grabs the pistol…that's the thing. She doesn't. Its not there.
She panics a little more now, looking frantically around for her pistol. Though its fallen on the other side of the RV right in front of the forest. Her eyes latch onto it and doesnt leave it, trying her best to think of a plan to reach it without getting shot.
"damnit" she curses before feeling a hand on her, gripping her arm hard. Jesse gasps at the sudden touch, as she was far too focused on getting her gun to protect herself from the shooter when she almost forgot about the dead around her.

(I'll get my answer up in a moment, maybe later on cause I'm a bit busy right now)

(yeah you're good take your time <3)