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[enervatism-blog]

( waverlycardoso‌ )

The thing about Gabriel Simmons is that he’s a rare giver in a world full of takers. Waverly has always had her apprehensions regarding the former ( everyone wanted something, didn’t they? ), but when she’s caught red-handed shoving a science textbook into her rucksack and isn’t immediately tossed on her ass, she has to assume there’s some semblance of genuine decency there. And so, she keeps coming back, partly to take advantage of his goodwill and partly out of a cynical strain of curiosity — just how long can someone stay a giver nowadays?

“Hate to disappoint you, Gabe, but that feel-good special isn’t on today’s roster. Least not till we get the friendship bracelets out of the way.” She’s smiling, in spite of herself, something small and surprisingly genuine as she flips through the worn pages of a lab manual. It’s like she’s handling a relic of a past life just then; she remembers having once aspired to a career in anthropology, a field where she could dabble in both past and present, combing through centuries worth of history and unearthing with science what had been lost in the sands of time. Her mother had put it best when she’d said, ‘You ask too many questions, linda. You’re never satisfied with what’s right in front of you.’ Perhaps Doroteia had been right on that front: she’d spent so long picking and prodding at all the stitches holding her life together that one day she’d just pulled at one too many seams in the design and the whole damn thing had unraveled.

Waverly snaps the book shut, smile waning. Regret’s a pointless emotion.

She crosses her arms and cranes her head to catch a glimpse of what Gabriel’s working on at his station. “Don’t think I won’t hold you to that. What are you working on, anyway? Finding a way to turn the not-so-dead into wine or something?”

  HE’S NOT DISAPPOINTED, and truthfully, he doesn’t think he could ever be truly disappointed with waverly. sarcasm and jokes aside, there’s a softness within the raider, something hidden behind thick walls built for self-defense. gabriel, of course, understand that. he’s been there, he’s lived the life of a hardened survivor. the only difference ? well, it took an outbreak for him to learn to break those walls down — to accept softness as a sign of strength. most, however, learned in more conventional ways that better fit the role of SURVIVOR. & gabriel ? well, perhaps he was meant to live life moving in opposite directions, only making connections to those he passed by on his way to the other side — those moving towards and through the darkness. 

       ❝ oh, darn ! ❞ he says with faux-disdain. he does not mind, not in the slightest. just the time spent here with waverly is enough. moments of giving, moments of pure connection — he doesn’t mind. ❝ well, i guess i’ll have to get the supplies for the friendship bracelets before your next visit to my little library. ❞ it reminded him of his youth — being sent away to camp, mosquito bites, arts and crafts, s’mores. oh, how he missed the simplicities of life ! he remembered wearing friendship bracelets given to him by girls that would give him strawberry lip-gloss flavored kisses, boys that would make promises to write to him long after camp was done. 

       fingers continue to tinker absentmindedly with wires — he did wish that she held him to that promise. though, the more he thought about it, the more he came to the conclusion that there was no need to. gabriel was here to stay, for good this time. he was sick of running, sick of hiding. he had already promised himself that he would be here with his little tavern of wonders until the day he died. ❝ oh, this ol’ thing ? ❞ he questions, hands GENTLY picking up the electronic and moving it around for her to get a better look. ❝ it’s not much, really. it’s a thermal imaging camera. i found it at a fire station a couple miles out. looks pretty broken up and there’s no batteries, but i think i can get it back up and working if i try hard enough. ❞  he pauses, looking up to waverly. ❝ not as interesting as your thing, though. ❞

[enervatism-blog]

[enervatism-blog]

i .... uh... need 2 make a new to do list so i don’t forget tbh so uhhhhh here u guys go >??? lmk if u arent on here but i owe u !

AUSTIN TURNER:

reply to italia tarrentino

starter henry regan

reply to topher haas

both tasks

DELANEY ADLER:

starter for sid hall

reply to noah lau

both tasks

GABRIEL SIMMONS:

reply to waverly cardoso

write wanted connection

both tasks

WESLEY DRAKE:

reply to rory damiani

starter for daya vasquez

write wanted connection

both tasks

ETC / MISC:

go through starter tag

[enervatism-blog]

[enervatism-blog]

( mxtilton‌ )

Max didn’t want to make Gabriel uncomfortable — apparently, he was good at that — so he just tried to look at the body between them. He couldn’t blame Gabe for having a… Well, breakdown, or whatever it was. This still didn’t sit well with him, no matter how many more bodies dropped every day. “I think we should check,” he suggested, despite the way it made him feel. Guilty. Like something was squirming in the back of his brain. “Pockets first?”

   THE MAN NODS. these days, comfort was a mere afterthought. it had to be if they wanted to survive, and that included mundane things such as just searching through the pockets of a DEAD MAN. ❝ yeah, you get that side i’ll get this side. whatever we find . . . i guess it just goes back to camp. ❞ gabriel sighed, shaking his head. despite the fact that they essentially lived in a LAWLESS wasteland. gabriel got down on his knees, fingers already prying into the jacket pocket of the man. in the past, he’d imagine that there would be a wallet, something to identify him by. instead, there is only crumpled up images of a life lived — children, pets, family. it’s all so ENDEARING, yet leaves him feeling guilty. ❝ not much on my side. you ? ❞ gabriel questions as fingers continued to pick around his pockets. 

[enervatism-blog]

i was ?? planning 2 do my replies today but i had a family emergency and a quick change of plans. i will be doing them tomorrow but just to make sure i don’t forget anything/lose track of things, here’s my to-do list ig ?? 

i’m still planning on going through the starter tag so if we have a plot and you have an open starter and you aren’t on this list, chances are i’m just trying to locate everything !

AUSTIN TURNER: 

reply to italia tarrentino

starter/reply for henry regan

both tasks

DELANEY ADLER:

reply to noah lau

reply to kelly selwood

reply to hattie adler

reply to elijah sheperd

both tasks

GABRIEL SIMMONS:

reply to max tilton

write wanted connection

both tasks

ETC / MISC: 

character building for revamped muses

[enervatism-blog]

( mxtilton‌ )

Max stood stone still at Gabriel’s side, wishing he could say something more to help him cope. But Max wasn’t cut out to be comforting. He could make all the right moves, sure, he knew what to do. He just didn’t think he could help that much. But the older man seems to calm down, Max could see the signs in his body language. Shoulders, hands, and especially face all told him it was going to be okay.

He shook his head, lost for words for a moment. “Don’t apologize. We’re all allowed to freak out from time to time, with the world… like this.”

  COMFORT FINDS HIM, despite the other’s silence. he feels no judgment coming from the other — no, only COMPASSION — and that truly makes all the difference in the world. eventually, the unsteady shakes grow steady and abrupt breaths become easy.  it’s only a matter of time before everything else falls into place and gabriel's back to NORMAL — relatively speaking, of course. eyes glanced over to max, his words sinking in, but not completely mattering to him. he knew that he was allowed to be soft, to fall apart every now and then — he simply just HATED doing it in front of others. no matter how well he knew them, there was always a fear, a regret of showing any signs of weakness. he trusted max, hell it was basically max’s job to protect the heads of the camp, but there was still a deep-rooted fear built within his mind. he felt SHAME to have done it over something as simple as killing, especially when he should be used to it by now. ❝ yeah, you’re right, ❞ gabriel admits with a slow nod. ❝ you think he’s got anything . . . useful on him ? ❞ he almost doesn’t want to even ask the question, but if the cure were laying safely in the dead man’s pockets, it would definitely be an opportunity MISSED. 

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❝  i’m sure he’ll understand. ❞

ivjihfihvihef i love u and ur soft boi

[enervatism-blog]

❝ i’m sure he’ll understand. ❞

+ @mxtilton

   THERE’S WARMTH within the walls of balfour. there’s a certain softness that he still feels within the walls and for that, gabriel is truly GRATEFUL. however, no amount of warmth can truly melt away the sins of the outbreak, sins that he would never have committed had death and chaos NOT taken over the world the way it did. but it did, and now gabriel towers over the lifeless body of a man, someone who one had a family, feelings . . . it was all so SURREAL, the more he thought about it. but now ? now his body laid to rot, the skin DETERIORATING INTO NOTHINGNESS. it was sad, heartbreaking even. ❝ i hope so, ❞ gabriel nodded, adrenaline finally slowing and leaving his body. ❝ thank you, max, ❞ he nodded, COMPOSURE slowly returning. ❝ sorry you had to see me . . . so freaked out. ❞

[enervatism-blog]

❝ are you a moron or just an asshole? ❞

well well well i hate myself

[enervatism-blog]

❝ are you a moron or just an asshole ? ❞

+ @negligcnt

  IT’S NOT AN INSULT —  at least, that’s what gabriel keeps telling himself. it can’t be, not if he wants to be happy, not if he wants to maintain any SEMBLANCE of joy. there’s not much to hold onto these days, especially not with all the death and insanity that roams the streets in such mundane fashion. there’s danger in this way of life — the life of FORCED optimism. there’s danger in ignoring the bad and focusing on the good, a sense of weightlessness where gravity shortly follows. & this ? this is where the gravity hits — this woman whose only about half his age INSULTING his intelligence and damaging his self-esteem. it’s all there, all falling apart ever so slowly until the inevitable CRASH & BURN. 

     ❝ not sure. ❞ gabriel replies, voice laced with uncertainty. what else is he supposed to say ? what is he ALLOWED to say that won’t set this small woman off with anger ? it’s an unfamiliar face matched with a relatively unfamiliar environment — it’s enough to put any man on edge, truly. ❝ moron, i suppose. or asshole. maybe both, ❞ he suggests, UNINTENTIONALLY coming across as sarcastic. he doesn’t realize it until the words are already out in the open, and no amount of senseless stammering can pull the words back into his mouth. ❝ i, uh, didn’t mean for that to come out that way. ❞

[enervatism-blog]

❝ all this trust is just making me tear up. ❞

pls accept this mess

[enervatism-blog]

❝ all this trust is just making me tear up. ❞

+ @waverlycardoso​

   SMILES ARE RARE and laughter is even rarer, yet waverly manages to pull the two things from gabriel so NATURALLY. he’s not always like this, though. most days, smiles are a rarity, a gem to find and laughter is a distant song that he strives to obtain, but rarely hears. its a general closeness he often chooses to run from, but with waverly, it’s something he’s learned to accept and simply welcome with open arms. ❝ is that so ? ❞ he questions with a hum, head tilting to the side the smile still VISIBLE on his features. 

      ❝ is this the part where we both start crying and hug and tell each other how much we love each other ? ❞ gabriel retorts back. it isn’t often that you’ll find VENOM dripping from his lips with such sarcastic comments — no, more often than not, they’re honeyed words that roll off the tongue. ❝ but it’s a SERIOUS offer, and you can come by anytime. rain or shine, i’m here for you and so are my books. ❞ it was a silly sentiment, but when did gabriel not speak silly sentiments ?

[enervatism-blog]

❝  where did you get this? ❞ 

here ya go loml cait

[enervatism-blog]

❝ where did you get this ? ❞

+  @sysoyev

  TENDER HEARTS have  the  tendency  to  hold  onto  mementos  like  children  hold  onto  toys.  each  one  creates  its  own  special,  unique  story,  but  it’s  only  a  matter  of  time  before  they  are  locked  away,  put  under  lock  and  key  for  another  day,  another  lifetime.  if  you  ignore  it,  it’ll  go  away,  is  what  he  tells  himself.  the  pink  ribbon  just  small  enough  to  be  tied  around  his  upper  arm  is  a  painful  reminder  of  what  was  lost,  what  could  have  been.  its  color  remains  BRIGHT,  unmarked  by  the  harsh  realities  that  surround  them  like  waves — so  he  counts  how  long  it  will  take  for  the  water  to  fully  surround  him,  to  wash  him  clean  from  the  memories  of  the  past.

     (  AND  YET,  THE  PINK  RIBBON  REMAINS  A  STAPLE  IN  OF  HIS  LIFE.  )

     creases  form,  filling  the  blank  canvas  between  his  brows — he  doesn’t  know  her  well  enough.  he  doesn’t  want  to  know  her  well  enough.  he  doesn’t  want  her  to  know  him  well  enough.  no  part  of  the  past  was  supposed  to  come  back  in  such  a  PUBLIC  way,  at  least,  that’s  the  promise  he  repeated  to  himself  like  a  mantra.  ❝  i  don’t  remember,  ❞  he  lies  through  his  teeth.  guilt  floods  him — TENDER  HEARTS  WERE  NOT  MADE  FOR  LIES !   ❝  must  have  slipped  into  my  bag  when  i  left  home.  funny  how  things  like  that  could  go  unnoticed,  huh ?  ❞