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    1. Ozzoquen 3 yrs ago

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3 yrs ago
Current I was thinking about Train to Busan and Peninsula before I went to be last night, and then had a dream about the Office cast in a zombie world. Michael Scott got bitten and sacrificed himself. Q - Q
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Bio

An anxious riddled 20-something year old that likes to write and be chaotic. I like meeting new people, but it can be pretty hard to keep going with conversation.
I like to play da video games.
Almost all of the characters I use are multiple years old, and have actual art. If I post art of them, it'll most likely be watermarked, so if you'd like to see the un-watermarked version, feel free to send me a DM.
I work at 3am two days a week, so if I'm slow to respond to anything, I blame my exhausted state of being.
Constantly questioning my gender identity. Thinking of seeing someone about it at the beginning of the new year, but we'll see how that goes.


Memento Mori. Unus Annus.

Most Recent Posts

@Martian
No worries at all! I'm not going to hold it against anyone for having real life happen! Take your time, no rush on posting.
Father McCarthy

@bumbles guthrie



It was almost amazing how calm and serene the street was as he stood on the steps of the church. The sun was shining away, lighting up the fresh snow, melting it into small pools that would only freeze later. Birds went about their business, surprisingly still around in the chaos that had begun to spread throughout the city. Perhaps this was God's way of saying that he was doing the right thing. That this was right.

As if to prove him wrong, the shuffling and groans brought his eyes to the street.

The chain rattled on the gate that sat securely closed in front of his church. Swallowing hard, Richard stared at the dead man, one arm wildly swinging through the fence bars, trying to snatch the man that was too far away from the beast to even matter. Heart pounding in his chest, as the man grew closer, he moved his hand over his chest in a cross motion.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Montgomery," he breathed out as he recognized the man. "I hope you were not looking for solace in this church."

A knife was pulled from a sheath, tucked into the back of the priest's trousers. A soft prayer was spoken softly to himself, before the man tried to lodge it into the skull of the deceased. He missed.

Grunting, he tried again. Then again. Finally, on the fourth downward swipe, the man lodged it firmly into the being formerly known as Mr. Montgomery. The knife was now lost in the man's skull, and the Father slowly backed up, panting as he stared at his hands. Bloodied. ]

"Why is this happening...?" The question was rhetoric. He knew there was no point in asking such a thing, and ultimately knew it to be a punishment thrown down onto them. It had to be.

The next hour would be spent digging a fresh new grave, and burying the body of the man he used to know. A half hour after that, he would be inside of the church, washing away the dirt in the sink of a newly built bathroom, far away from the door. He didn't hear the voice calling for him, and until there was a knock on the door, heard nothing other than that.

The knock caught his attention, causing him to pause and flip the water off. Eyes widening as he finally heard the calling of a person, he ran with a towel to dry his hands, swinging the door open.

"A survivor!" The first to make it to his sanctuary. Perhaps the first, and only, to take his words to heart. "A-ah, sorry," a sheepish smile crossed his face as he looked over the young man. No blood. A good sign. "Come in, my child, come," leaving the door open, he waved a hand into the church, standing as it would normally. "I promise, you are safe here. I am Father Richard McCarthy," he was trying to keep his voice from shaking, trying to stay optimistic as he glanced passed the young man and out to the street.

"What's your name?" A quick glance towards Aran, his smile faltered for a moment.


Judas O'Dell

@Asesina


There was blood on his hands. How many had come for him at this point? Five, six? He had lost the knife along the way, the aluminum bat also bloodied as he had finally made his way to the apartment. Bounding up the flight of stairs, he screamed for Jules, only to swing the door open to the room that his younger brother's friends rented.

There was no one there. A struggle had obviously taken place, blankets and pillows thrown around, glass on the floor from a broken cup.

He didn't know how long he stood in the apartment once he realized Jules wasn't there. Fifteen minutes? An hour? Time seemed to blur as his mind went crazy with any and all ideas that could have happened to the only person he cared about in this world.

Finally, Judas forced himself to go. He had to. Jules was alive, he told himself. He had to be alive.

Mind foggy, it took Judas everything he had to try to pay attention to his surroundings. Where would be go now? As he moved to step into the street, it was as if time slowed, his head turning upwards as the screeching of tires sounded out around him. Eyes widening, he turned his head towards the car speeding towards him, and it seemed luck was on his side in at least one aspect today.

A voice was the only thing that drew him back. A woman. "I'm...Yeah, I'm fine," shaking his head, he brushed it off. "Think I was one of those creeps trying to attack everyone?" His voice came off a lot more snappy than he intended. Shaking his head, he turned. "I don't have time for this, I have to find my brother."
@Asesina
I am all up for that! Feel free to shoot me a message on discord if you need anything from me for it.
@RedXIII
Aw, sad to see you go, but thanks for the interest! Good luck out there!


Just so everyone is aware, I'm currently in the process of having someone move into my house with me, so I'll be a bit absent until probably next Wednesday, the 20th. My plan is to introduce Piper, respond with Father McCarthy, and I'm hoping to have Judas run into someone along the way (any takers?)
@NaturalTendency
She looks good. You're free to put her in the character tab and post anytime.
@Martian@RedXIII
Don't forget that we have a discord! If you don't want to join that's fine, just let me know so we can DM you or ping you on the forum if needed.


"Hey, Judas, I just got a weird phone call."

He could feel something shaking his shoulder.

"It was from some guy who called himself Father Richard McCarthy. I think he was crazy."

Another shake. He groaned.

"Come on Judas, get up. I'm bored, it's like, ten in the morning."

"Oh my fucking God, Jules, go away," the face of the older brother buried itself into a pillow as a loud groan left his mouth. He could almost feel Jules roll his eyes as he scoffed, standing up from the bed.

"Fine. Asshole. I'm going to Lanore and Jason's place," thumping around the small apartment they shared, it was obvious that Jules was angry, and Judas really could care less at that moment. All he wanted was more sleep, and sleep he was going to get. He wouldn't get up until two hours later, when the clock struck twelve.

When Judas finally did get up, he wandered around an empty apartment. It wouldn't take him long to get ready, being sure to lock up before he left. Fishing a pack of cigarettes out of his pocket, one was in his mouth and lit before he even left the apartment building. A low whistle caught his attention as he left, Judas looked around until his eyes landed on a familiar face.

"Eeyy Rodrigo!" The man was hispanic, shorter than Judas, but larger still. His hair was held back by a bandana, and his hazel eyes stared at the white man, watching his every move.

"Sup holmes," the two came close, grasping each other's hands, and brought it in for a quick hug. "Got a job I need help with," the two began to walk, Judas following without any question. This man leading him along was one of the only men he had learned to trust in this cold world.

A bat was given to him as they stepped up to Rodrigo's car. A bat that would be used only if the people they were going to speak with didn't comply. It was a simple enough job, really. They were in gang territory, after all, and if the businesses wanted to be left alone, they would have to pay a nice fee. An old tactic, one that Judas was surprised was still employed. The duo wouldn't even make it to the first business.

By the time Judas had woken up, the chaos had already begun to spread around the city, unbeknownst to him.

The pair walked through the city, talking amongst themselves, slowly noticing the mass of people that were wandering the city. Panicked and carrying suitcases, they shouted and screamed. "The fuck is going on?" Judas wondered aloud. Rodrigo shrugged, before motioning for Judas to follow him, and the two made their way down an alley. The blonde haired man couldn't help a shiver that ran down his spine when he saw the scene.

A woman sat on the ground, a man's head in her lap as she cried. Her hands were stained with crimson red. Not far from where the two were, was another body, the hilt of a knife sticking out from it's skull. Judas paused, but Rodrigo hurried to their side, bending down to check the woman.

"I...I just..." The woman was finding it hard to speak. She looked up at them, Judas now joining the scene. There was so much blood, most of it coming from the man's neck. "I-I called an ambulance but...but they said...they said there's too many reports...T-that they...they might not make it...I-I can't carry him..."

"What even happened?" Rodrigo was taking point. This was his area, these were his people. He wasn't going to turn a blind eye. Judas, on the other hand, moved to the body. His stomach churned, and he couldn't even make it all the way to the corpse before he had to turn away and cover his mouth.

"That man...That..." The woman's eyes darted to the dead man. "He jumped my husband, b-bit into his neck...Tore it..." She couldn't finish her sentence. They all heard the final breaths of the man in her lap, a soft groan, before a stillness came over him. "No...No Victor, no, no!" The woman shook the man. "Please. Please oh God please no," it was only a matter of seconds before the man's eyes opened again, a groan coming from him. "Oh!" The woman pulled back, a grin spreading across her face, fresh tears streaming down her cheeks.

A white hand raised towards the woman, sliding up her cheek, moving to her hair. The strands were clutched and yanked, the woman crying out as her head was brought down to the man’s.

Rodrigo jumped back as blood erupted from the woman’s face. Expletives were shouted, Judas was called for, and the smaller man was jumping on top of the duo that sat on the ground, trying to pull them apart. There was a mass of screaming and confusion, Victor moving from his wife to Rodrigo, sinking his teeth into the man’s arm. Judas stepped over, taking action by slamming the baseball bat into the man’s head, over and over until Victor slumped.

Blood pooled from around the bodies. The woman wasn’t moving, Rodrigo had a hole in his arm from where the man bit him, and Victor was slumped over with a bashed open skull. Judas breathed heavily as he looked them over, jerked up when his partner fell hard against the wall, holding his arm.

“Fucking hell is this shit?” Judas opened his mouth, moving to Rodrigo, but the man shook his head.

“Go get help. Mitch or Jack or someone. I’ll be...I’ll be fine,” he was obviously not fine. Clicking his tongue in his mouth, Judas straightened, before he took a few steps back from the group. A simple nod given to his companion, and the man was heading towards the opposite end they came from. Stepping over the dead body on the ground, he paused a moment, before grabbing the switchblade buried into the man’s skull. None of them were going to be needing this now, were they?

With one last look towards Rodrigo, Judas made his way down the street, disappearing into the throngs of people that were fleeing from the West. Heart hammering in his chest, he took a breath to steady himself, his mind drifting far away from helping Rodrigo by finding Mitch or Jack. His mind strayed to his brother, the first thought being that he had to find him. Something was going on. Something was making people flee and be scared. That man attacked his wife, drew blood.

Heading towards Saint’s street, Judas kept his head down, his goal clear in his mind.



In the early morning of the first of March, the church stood empty. It was a small thing, out of place as it sat nestled between two towering buildings, the white wood fading and chipping from years of elemental stimulation. As people walked through freshly laid snow, they paid it no mind, and perhaps only the most devout would notice that the black iron gate was shut firmly today. Father Richard McCarthy was out.

It wouldn't be much longer before the Father was hurrying down the street, pushing and pulling two shopping carts worth of canned food, with a pit of heavy guilt in the bottom of his stomach. The food bank had given him all he had asked for - non-perishable food that he so desperately needed. In his mind it was for the best. If his dreams hadn't come true, he could host a food drive, give it to the people who truly needed it. After all, the homeless population of Chicago was nothing to scoff at. And if his dream did come true...

The fear sparked again, and the Father took a deep breath before he looked around warily. Fives years now, of living with the knowledge of his dream. Five years of silence, and torment and nightmares. Five years of praying to God everyday that his dreams weren't real. It was the day of reckoning though, and only time would tell if the omen he had been given was true.

Transferring the contents of the shopping carts took him a solid thirty minutes. Heading up and down the small flight of stairs wore him out more than he wanted to admit, so he sat himself down on the creaking wood to watch the morning unfold. It was normal, so far. People were going about their business outside of his gates, the birds were singing their songs. The peace radiated around him, and for a moment, he had forgotten all that he had prepared for these five years.

A cop car speeding down the street pulled him from his thoughts. Siren's blaring, Father McCarthy felt his heart drop for a moment, before the stillness set in. Letting out the breath he had been holding, the older man stood, hand on the wooden banister to turn towards the church, before he stopped. Another cop shot by. Then another. And...Another? Sucking in a shaking breath, the Father hurried into the church.

Walking past the rows of pews, moving into the door that was behind the altar, Father McCarthy stepped into the sacristy. To the left, the most sacred items of his Church, tucked away and almost out of sight, while the rest of the room had been transformed into a make-shift bedroom. A cot tucked away to the side, the blankets a mess on it, and a small crt tv sitting across from it on a rocking table. Fiddling with the buttons, the TV flashed on, a quiet buzzing humming from it as the man found the first News channel.

"March madness is almost upon us, folks--"
"The weather today will be slightly cloudy with ch--"
"Three are dead in the bizarre attack that left Chicago citizens shocked."

The words caught the Father's attention. Sitting on the bed, eyes trained at the television, a hard lump began forming in his throat.

"Chicago residents are told to be on guard as a wave of attacks spread through the city. Officials are saying that they are not connected, but citizens are still being warned to stay in their homes for now. What can you tell us about these attacks, Mitch?"

"Well, from what we know so far, they seem to be random. We're not sure when they started, but they're becoming more frequent as the day goes on. Reports are saying that the civilian's have a crazed look in their eyes and aren't responding to any sort of communication or actions from the victims. Even children are being attacked!"

"Now that's pretty scary. Who would attack a child?"

"A crazy person," the on air personality shook his head. "Officials are saying to stay away from any contact with a person who's been attacked, as well. It's like the crazy gene is being spread through contact, so stay inside, folks."

The TV flicked off, and Richard sat there for a moment, staring at the black screen. So it was all true, then…

Legs shaking as he stood up, a numbness flowed through him as he moved to his phone. Grabbing the small piece of technology, he stepped towards the drawer that sat beside his bed, and reached inside. A 9mm pistol sat, looking the same as the day he bought it. Hands shaking, the Father stared at it for a moment longer, before picking it up into his hands and cradling it. This was the beginning of the end.

Steeling himself, he wasted no more time. Moving himself back through the church, he stepped out into the now melting snow, and stood by the gate. Months of storing contacts in his phone, of people in a fifty mile radius of his church, he began with the first one.

“This is Father Richard McCarthy. I know you don’t know me, but please, I implore you. My church is located on Fifth Street and Durum. I have food and water, and a safe place to be for these trying times to come. Everyone is welcome. If you can make your way here, you will be safe.”
@RedXIII
Ah I'm so sorry I forgot to mention you!
He looks good, you can add him into the characters!
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