surviveds

[surviveds]

before pride month ends who's gonna give tyler a boyfriend

[surviveds]

kind of want to add gareth t/wd and nate escape room t/ournament of cham/pions

[surviveds]

he's almost offended by the idea that he wouldn't come back, and felix very nearly voices that: he feels the words crawling up his throat, brow arching as he prepares to look as aggrieved as he feels - but it's a feeling that fades as quickly as it'd come on, felix catching himself as he remembers how they'd come to live here in the first place. how easily leo and will had disappeared, the myriad of excuses for their prolonged absence, and now iris gone, too - and silas, elton, asha... how effortlessly people leave these days. it's not something he's often considered: how hope and leo must feel when he's out on a patrol or a scouting trip. regardless of how easy it feels for him out there, how natural, most days - it must be unbearable for them.

but it's not a conversation for now - or, really, just not a conversation felix wants to have. his jaw clenches, the pressure building between his teeth for a beat too long, and felix's only acknowledgement of the question is a slight inclination of his head, as if to say, touché. mostly, he just files it away to bring up again at their next family dinner, where they can discuss emotions and felix can really commit to cutting back on his excursions.

it's his default to have so many trains of thought running simultaneously, worrying and planning and organizing, and it takes effort to snap out of it, but it feels appropriate: he wants this moment to be just himself and hope, a rhythm that they have settled into these past few months, a groove that felix has been searching for since first being allowed into the bennetts' family. it's hard not to see her as his baby sister as she's slipping into a coat and buzzing with an infectious excitement, felix biting down on a smile and busying himself with unholstering his sidearm and running through the necessary checklist, clip and slide and safety. felix tucks it back when he's satisfied, snorting to himself as he does so, eyes rolling with an inarguable affection before he retorts, "i survived a year without him-" (barely, felix thinks to himself), "-i think i can manage an hour or two." and it's not like it's the first time.

but as hope pens the note (felix peeking down at it, and feeling a new wave of guilt mixed with a brotherly annoyance at the words wash over him), he wonders, briefly, if maybe he should've left a note behind, now or any of the dozen times before - but - no. he stops himself from falling too deeply into that hole. he and will aren't the type of couple who need constant tabs on one another; they can handle themselves just fine.

"about time," felix says, arching a brow playfully at hope before shifting on his feet, only looking once at hope to say, "better keep up, then."

it's not until they're outside that he speaks again - glancing upward to the sky, the first hint of morning bleeding into ink-black night on the horizon. felix stops, whistles low through his teeth, gesturing to the growing color with his left hand. "when's the last time you saw a sunrise, huh?"

she rolls her eyes dramatically,  like she’s not accepting that answer,   but she knows felix can see through her and she’s hardly trying to be serious about it.   ❝  and if you just didn’t come back?  ❞    there’s a teasing tone to her words to show him that she’s easing up,   but the sentiment is still real.   she watched one sibling walk away and not come back yet.   she believes in iris and she won’t allow herself to think of the worst possible scenario — that doesn’t mean she’s willing to say goodbye to another sibling without ever knowing what happened to him,  even if it’s just a small trip.   

with his confirmation,  she lets out a breath,  finally starting to relax.   she can feel it,  the same excitement she’s always felt whenever felix included her.   in the last few years,  she spent too much time pushing him away for things that weren’t his fault,   resenting him for things out of his control,   and she missed this,  just being able to enjoy the validation of her big brother wanting her around.   it really does make her feel like a little kid again,  the recognition making her face turn into something of nonchalance,  trying desperately not to show it,  not wanting it to go to his head.  

she feigns a shocked look back at him and scoffs.   ❝  surprised you pulled yourself away from your husband long enough to sneak out at all,  ❞    she jokes,   a mocking tone to the words that felix says all the time,    in a way that used to be annoying when she once thought he’d give her and her sister up for him,   but now,  she’s grateful for it.   it’s not lost on her that her family is still alive in part because of will,  and she knows felix deserves a love like that.   

❝  as much as i love playing that game with dad—  ❞   she says,   offering a teasing grin before it fades.   ❝  might not be the worst idea,  ❞   she insists,   because she’s not the same teenager she was years ago when getting that kind of rise out of him made her feel some kind of relief.  they’ve been through too much,  and she doesn’t want him to have to question any more of his children’s whereabouts — the same way she doesn’t want to worry about felix.   she grabs a piece of paper,  quickly writing a note for leo:   ‘left with felix.  i’ll take care of him.  back soon.  -  H.’  she smirks at her words,  taunting felix before she taps it against the table,  then grabs her pack.   ❝ ready. ❞ she says it casually, like she isn't eager to  get out of here just as felix anticipated.

[surviveds]

stag dance.

dialogue prompts from stag dance: a novel and stories by torrey peters.

looks like you need some help there.

i'm trying to forget.

say you won't go.

what are you crying about?

stop crying and tell me what to do.

sometimes dignity is a better defense than you'd thing.

i've been telling the same story so long now, i practically believe it.

this place is a shithole.

all i ever really wanted was to do cool stuff with you.

are you having trouble sleeping?

i don't have an extra fuck to give about _____.

you're ignoring me. you won't even make eye contact.

you should ask someone else. i feel weird saying.

i forgot to give you a valentine.

you're really inventive, i'll give you that.

you're still so pretty.

are you happy now?

you could have saved yourself.

i'll put ten dollars on it.

think twice before you tell my business.

i couldn't speak around you.

have some fucking manners.

i didn't figure you for fearing monsters in the dark.

what do you mean, 'spirit'?

i never took you for an occultist.

how come you know so much about this?

you've proved yourself a liar, haven't you?

how do you beg, when you don't even know the words to beg with?

the process of change begins with self-talk.

i must be drunker than i figured.

why is today so special?

would you do it? if you thought you'd get away with it?

you think you're the first to tell a joke about my ____?

what are you doing out here in the dark?

you snatch for yourself everything that's mine.

you gave me no choice.

tell me something important: do i have lipstick on my teeth?

i just like getting gifts.

your ire is impressive.

nothing to drink?

my vices are emotional.

what 'silence of the lambs' shit are you into?

i tried to be what you wanted.

sisters look out for each other.

say you're sorry.

you think you have the right to judge me?

i saw a lot of horrible things.

you are as you were intended to be.

if you embrace yourself, you'll always have people to share yourself with.

do you understand what you're playing with?

this isn't the end for us, you and me.

parents are all the same: at the bottom of their hearts, they love their kids.

have you seen any news stories about parents in the last ten years?

what happens in [place] stays in [place].

i didn't really think you'd do it.

[surviveds]

THE WALKING DEAD: WORLD BEYOND | 1.09 "The Deepest Cut"

[surviveds]

it's a little adorable, how reminiscent she is of leo in this moment. felix can't help but be reminded of those first weeks and months he'd spent in the bennett home, cautious, curious, wanting to believe that this could work but unable to suppress the fear it wouldn't, an anxiety that would inevitably lead to midnight excursions where all he really did was walk around, thinking, trying to convince himself that it was all right to get comfortable, only to slip back through the window of the room he couldn't quite think of as his yet and discover kari and leo both sitting on the bed, expecting wrath in their eyes and finding only worry.

with hope, there is some fury, but he knows his sister enough to see beneath it, though these days, it doesn't seem he has to look far; he's not sure if it's the journey that finally broke that barrier, or maybe they're both just easing up and letting go, but it's hardly an effort to decipher hope now, though felix doesn't dare say that out loud.

"i planned to be back before anyone knew i was gone." well, not anyone. he'd inform the current watch, of course, but he'd really intended it to be a brief trip - though it hardly seems worth it, to try to continue arguing this with hope.

and felix can't help but feel a little relieved that she seems willing to give up any argument too at the invitation, immediately returning the smile with one of his own, eyes crinkling as he beams at his sister. "really," he confirms, tone adopting a playfully exasperated quality, as if it's somehow a compromise, as if felix doesn't love to spend time with her. he folds his arms over his chest, raises a brow at hope before rolling his eyes. "if you say so." maybe he just spends too much time topside that it seems like she ventures out so little. felix's thoughts begin to partially drift towards rearranging the patrol schedules, cutting back on his own shifts for a few weeks, when he's dragged back fully by her question, which prompts his mouth to twitch to a frown, guilt creeping up his throat. "for the record, i didn't even tell my husband. but we can leave a note for dad if it bothers you that much."

they fought so hard to get their family back together.   she did so many things to get her family back together,   things that still haunt her,   things she can only cope with by having them near,   reminding herself she isn’t alone.   more often than not lately,  it seems like it’s just her and her father.   iris is off saving the world,   and they have no way of knowing if she’s okay or when she’ll return —  and felix,  he chooses to leave. 

she knows that’s not what he’s doing.   he’s not trying to leave them.   he’s doing what he has to do to protect them and their new community.   it’s just always been easier for hope to resent him when she feels hurt,   even if it’s not his fault.

she’s glaring,  trying to mask the hurt she feels every time she has to say goodbye to him — especially since it seems like he was planning to escape without even telling her.   his explanation is understandable,  but she’s so used to being left behind that it’s hard to lighten up at all. 

❝  so what,  you were just going to sneak out before i woke up?  were you even going to leave a note?  ❞     she feels guilty the moment she says it,   remembering the note she and her sister left him when they left omaha.   it’s what causes her to finally break,   the arms crossed over her chest dropping as she takes a deep breath.    ❝  okay,  ❞   she finally gives,   rolling her eyes at herself,  not him,  the way she’s given in already.   

but there’s finally a light in her eyes when he invites her,   the smallest hint of a smirk on her lips as she starts to perk up.   ❝  really?  ❞    she asks,   reverting back to a child again,  excited when her new big brother actually wanted to spend time with her.   she tries to play it cool,   shoulders intentionally dropping into a shrug as if it’s not that big of a deal.    ❝  i get plenty of sun,  ❞   she argues,  smirking as she reaches for her own jacket — one the used to be felix’s.  or will’s.  she can’t remember now,  the sentiment’s the same either way.    ❝ do we need to tell dad?  or — was it just me you were sneaking out on?  ❞

[surviveds]

adding (some) ocs back from @undones because i'm the most annoying person in the world .... to be expected from me i fear

[surviveds]

@doomdays: you just got here, and you're gonna turn around and leave? (hope + felix)

he'd hoped to be gone before she'd woken up, yet here his sister stands, foiling that plan. felix's expression is that of a teenger caught by their parent sneaking out the door after curfew: half-grimace, half-plea, eyes wide as he raises a hand, as if that would placate hope in the slightest. "i'm not going far," he says, the truth of the statement corroborated by the lack of a pack; only a pistol is holstered, his knife ever-present in its sheath on his ankle, but beyond that, he isn't even carrying water. "one of the lookouts radioed, said they saw someone going in the direction of the facility." likely nothing more than a lone wanderer, but felix wants to be certain.

his mouth twitches, this explanation sitting on his tongue, waiting to be voiced, but he pauses instead - considering, for a moment, before sighing softly to himself. "you wanna come with me?" he asks instead. "you haven't been up top in a while. some sun might do you good."

[surviveds]

tyler's smile is far too easy and loose for the situation, his tone too playful, lounging in the half-broken chair like a man on a beach vacation - but his cowboy boot taps a steady rhythm against the porch as he looks up at ellis, a hint of what rests just beneath the surface: a fear that he's only just keeping at bay, locked down deep for the weeks he's been here, attempting to adjust. but he feels it creeping ever closer to the surface, and the look on ellis' face threatens to give it more way: haunted is the best descriptor tyler can conjure up. and he understands, at least, in the abstract; the palpable tension that's been in the air since his arrival has only worsened in the past few days, snatches of conversation overheard allowing him to piece together some idea of what they've all been dealing with (beyond the monsters that are everyone's problem, of course), and tyler really doesn't know how ellis is even standing right now - but he is.

and he admires that.

he sucks sharply at his teeth, allowing one last look-over of ellis before shifting his gaze once more towards the sky, finishing up writing the barely-legible notes about the clouds and conditions in a journal donna had been kind enough to scrounge up for him, as if this is nothing more than just another day, weather-watching like he's done since a child, scribbling in a shorthand that only he can parse. "just tryin' to look out," he says after a beat, aiming for casual, but there's something strained in it that tyler can't shake. it's difficult not to care about ellis and everyone else, when suddenly they're all each other has.

tyler shuts his book and slips it into his jacket pocket, then extends a foot to tap his boot against the seat next to him, its paint more curled than the one he's claimed, but no less serviceable. "and i'll take that under advisement, but you could stand to rest every now an' then, can't you?" gaze flitting to ellis, tyler flashes a smile again, but it's more subdued, barely there and gone again. "seriously. you look like you're about to pass out or something. sit down before you fall down."

@surviveds said, "you look like shit."

he's spent the last few weeks worrying only about fatima, worried about what she's going through and how similar it all felt to the last time he lost someone of his own family. they never had time to understand what was happening to his mother; even now, so much later, he still doesn't understand it - and he's not sure, even given what fatima's told him about his experience, that he can understands this either, but he's still focusing all his energy on taking care of her. he has to do something, and actually taking the time to address what he's gone through and what he's lost himself doesn't feel like an option.

he doesn't have it in him to be defensive this time; he's been on edge for so long now, ready to fight at any given moment, worried that it was the only thing he was capable of doing for his wife. but now that he's got her back, and that she's okay ( as okay as she can be ) the exhaustion is finally catching up to him. still, he's not willing to take a step back - maybe he learned that from his father - because tyler's words hardly feel like an insult as much as they do some kind of gentle warning.

❝  yeah. okay, man, ❞ he mumbles softly, hand rubbing over his neck as he looks away, down at the rotted flooring of the deck of colony house. his weight shifts between his feet as he takes a deep breath, and after a moment, despite his refusal to really consider that this town has been fucking with him too, he feels a small inclination to really listen to him. ❝  just - don't get comfortable. once you get comfortable, that's when they bite. ❞ it's not a threat, rather a warning that reveals more about himself than he can say directly: that he let himself be happy, and this town took that from him, just as fatima was a light that it was so desperate to darken, and ellis is terrified that it has, forever.

[surviveds]

So you, uh, jumped in the hole, because what, your wife did? Yeah.

[surviveds]

long as you're not takin' it out on everyone else. there's that memory again, red-hot, never letting him go: trevor on the ground, the slick wetness of his blood smeared against perry's knuckles, the crunch of bone against his hand that he found, in that moment, satisfying. it makes him tremble now, as it does every time he recalls it: a sickening echo in his ears, ringing like the aftermath of a gunshot. he wants to forget that noise: he never wants to forget it. never wants to forget what he's capable of, why he needs to rein himself in - why he can't let himself ever get mad again.

he sucks in a sharp, short breath, the burn of it in the crisp air grounding, refreshing. he looks down to his hand, notes the way it shakes, and is half-surprised to see clean skin: some days, he feels as if the stain's still there. the offending hand is slipped into his jacket pocket, jaw set in discomfort as perry focuses his gaze just past donna: studying the wide expanse of sky, noting how each day seems greyer, as if the arrival of the cold and the snow is sweeping away all color.

“well, i ain't never needed a reason before. probably not best for me to go lookin' for excuses.” he tries to smile, but manages little more than a grimace, a small sigh exhaled as he begins to grind the heel of his boot into the dirt. “but - no ma'am. i won't be putting nobody in danger.” perry clicks his tongue. “and, really, i appreciate it, but i wouldn't wanna bother you, either. got enough goin' on 'round here lately without my whinin'.”

@surviveds said, "sometimes i get angry, and i’m sorry."

donna's eyes narrow in on him for just a moment before she shoves her hands in her pockets, her body shifting back on her heels for a moment as she thinks of all the people who have expressed the same exact thought - either with words or actions. she's one of them, too. this place sparks anger just as much as it sparks fear and desperation, and she'll never blame anyone for letting it get the best of them, as long as they're not putting them all at risk for it, which seems to happen far too often, especially when newcomers arrive. but something feels different about him; not everyone has the same grace as him, and donna's spent enough time here reading people to know that that's worth something.

❝  a lot to be angry about here, ❞ she says simply, shrugging her shoulders as if it's no big deal, like it's expected. it could very easily be a different conversation, but donna's found reason to trust him so far. ❝  can't tell you it'll be the last time you'll feel anger like that. hell, it might not be the last time this week, ❞ she warns, shifting to her heels again. ❝  as long as you're not takin' it out on everyone else, puttin' them in danger... we're good, perry. and i'm always here to listen if it's too much. believe me, i've had plenty of those conversations. ❞

[surviveds]

Twisters (2024) dir. Lee Isaac Chung

[surviveds]

it doesn't need to be said, but felix appreciates it regardless, warmth swelling within him, a miniature sun come to life in his chest. he's glad to be worthy of leo's trust, even when it'd hurt (he never regretted once agreeing to care for his sisters, but that doesn't mean it didn't sting, to be left behind.) and each time he and will venture beyond the safety they've built here, he's asking leo to trust him again: not only that they'll return unscathed, but that they won't compromise their home. it's exactly why felix needs to be so familiar with the terrain: to be able to spot any intruders, CRM or otherwise. because maybe the military's fully retreated - but there's always the chance they haven't. and felix refuses to let down his guard while they're still a threat.

he's still pulled taut now, an arrow prepared to fire, a hypervigilance he hasn't been able to shake since their flight from the research base. felix feels a degree of guilt, at how absent he is from his family - so many miles and months to reunite, and he pulls will away on his excursions. leo's insight about hope worsens it for a beat, pulls felix's mouth to an undeniable frown, his chest aching for a handful of heartbeats like he's been punched, and he has to struggle against the feeling to suck in a breath.

it's a messy, slow recovery to being able to speak again, and when he does, his gaze is squarely on the floor, felix murmuring quietly, "i always miss her, too." it's then that he decides definitively that they'll take a break from the expeditions; it's an idea will casually floated on their trek back, felix replying with a noncommittal shrug - but maybe he was right. maybe it's the best thing to do.

and maybe it's easier to commit to it when he's actually back home, in the presence of all he leaves behind. a little courage seeps into veins, and felix manages to smile at leo, nose and eyes scrunching, as his arms cross, his thumb rubbing anxiously across a pink flower recently tattooed on his bicep. "maybe..." he starts, and almost immediately, his smile's widening, a beaming grin flashing at his dad. "maybe we could all have dinner with him soon? not tonight," felix says. "will's probably too tired, and i wanna give him a night to settle back in. but - tomorrow." felix raises a brow suddenly, tone turning inquisitive. "hope would be okay with that...?"

leo scoffs,  almost in amusement,  because he'll say the same thing to iris when she finally returns,  too:   ❝  I've never doubted you,  ❞    he reminds proudly,   a soft chuckle following.   it's the truth,  even when felix was younger,    and leo and kari where'd still trying to figure out what they could do for the kid   (   it was already decided,  though—    they knew he was about to be his son.   they were just waiting for felix to allow himself that life,  too.   )   

felix doesn't owe him any kind of defense;   he knew long ago that his kids were all bound to make something of themselves,  and he understood that didn't always mean that they'd be close by.   even he can understand it, personally,  given how long he was away from home—    stuck in a place they'd clearly been suspicious of for good reason,  long before leo himself ever was.   he trusts them all,  no matter how much he wishes they could all be together,  in one place,  building a home for themselves.    ❝  I understand.   hope was doing calculations, you know.   trying to anticipate the day you'd return.   I'll probably get in trouble for telling you,  but I think she missed you,  ❞   he teases,  his smile bright as he gives his shoulder a soft pat.    

he nearly asks if he was right,  if they found anything,  but the change of topic tells him all he needs to know.   his head lifts slightly,  and he offers a subtle nod before his lips turn into a small grin at the mention of garrett.   ❝  he'd be right.  it’s been nice.  ❞    he starts to smile,  because he can’t help it,  always giving himself away to felix before he can stop it.   ❝  — he’s been nice to have around,  too,  ❞    he adds,  before felix has the chance to ask.   

[surviveds]

it's never been easy in alexandria, but it's never been so hard. eric's accustomed to unceasing frustration and the building rage it results in, ever-present just beneath the skin because of the pointed looks and snide remarks that aaron's always so desperate to dismiss as ignorance. he knows exhaustion and hunger and even the brief spells of boredom the apocalypse allots - but the one thing he's yet to experience is genuine despair. necause aaron's optimism is infectious, his hope blinding, and eric glimpses it in every shared glance, tastes it in each kiss - like some positive version of folie à deux. he snarks and sighs because it's his nature, the disposition he's had since childhood, but rarely does it ever go soul-deep.

now, though...

now, eric hides his shaking hand in the pocket of his jacket, his eyes miserable and black from a lack of sleep as he looks at denise. they've commiserated similarly in the past, relating over shared fears and complaints about the place they call home - but there's a heaviness to the conversation now that eric feels the weight of settling directly on his chest. it makes his breath feel ragged, sharp inhales pulled through gritted teeth before he says with a grimace, "i'm sorry." it feels hollow, almost meaningless - but doesn't he bear some responsibility for this? he'd agreed with aaron to bring them in - doesn't that mean everything they've done is because of them? necessary as some of it might have been - with pete, at least - it's not fair, what's come of it. that denise has to shoulder such a burden now.

a hand gently comes to rest on her arm, a light touch eric's done countless time without much thought, but he does consider it now. keeps it loose enough that she can shake free without much awkwardness should it be unwanted or just too much. his eyes soften as they linger on her a moment more, then eric's turning his attention to studying the clinic, the corners of his mouth tucked to a thoughtful frown. "i don't think anyone has a choice but to trust you," he replies, only to immediately regret it, because he knows it's far from comforting. "but - i do," he adds. "i get it, it's not really an easy thing to do right now... but if there's anyone i trust to do this job, it's you."

@surviveds said, “ i know how it feels.”

there’s some comfort in hearing she isn’t alone in that, even if it doesn’t technically ease the ache. for a long time, it felt like she was invisible here, and that was comfortable for her, for the most part. it meant the people weren’t looking to her for the answers, and it eased some of the anxiety of being here. but now, everyone’s looking to her for help, expecting something extravagant from her, waiting for her to save them all. there’s a reason she never made it when she thought she wanted to be a doctor before - she wasn’t cut out for this. that still feels true. ❝  I liked it better when people didn’t know my name, ❞ she admits with a scoff, because she feels ridiculous saying it out loud, even if there’s truth to that. she looks up to him, skeptical, wondering if he’s felt the same thing in this place as her - the world changed, and yet people seem to still have their own assumptions; there’s no freedom in the loss of societal rules when it feels like everyone’s still looking at people like them a certain way. ❝ I don’t know if everyone even trusts me.  ❞ maybe it’s all in her head, or maybe it’s not, but she wonders how he feels about it. ❝  I don’t know if I trust everyone, either. ❞

[surviveds]

it's evan's turn to sink into silence, discomfort biting the nape of his neck like mosquitos swarming in summer heat. going back - it's a concept that he has considered, a dozen times, more, but he could never bring himself to. he'd avoided pennsylvania like a plague ward; skirted along the beaches of carolina, his gaze drawn north, but he never allowed himself to venture further than that. he wasn't sure what he'd find - or maybe, he did know, and just didn't want to see it: more disappointed glances passed between his parents, before their expressions faded to indifference; the awkward, suffocating tension that exists between maddie and her husband. friends from school that have made lives and homes with spouses and children and jobs and college educations, none of which evan is certain he even wants, not yet, at least, but he knows he'd feel jealous of anyway, bitter of the certainty with which they live their lives: a knowing that evan has never had.

freeing as it is to know he can go at any time, he can't help but wonder - will there ever be a day when he doesn't want to?

a sigh unfurls across his tongue, exhaled through half-clenched teeth, evan's mouth curling to something akin to a grimace as he admits, in a soft voice, "sometimes." he meets travis's eyes for a half-second before his gaze drops to his hands. "not really sure what i'd find, though." and maybe he could ask maddie, do they want me to come back? he's had the question linger at the forefront of his mind, a tremor shooting through his hand as he held a pen above a page, imagining the words finally written, tacked on almost as an aside at the end of a letter... but he never allows himself to write it.

does travis understand? evan looks up at him out of the corner of his eye, almost imperceptibly, studying him. there's a sensation within evan that he can't explain, something like a kinship between them, a silent recognition that evan almost wants to bring attention to, but he fears what it might cause - travis to withdraw momentarily at best, and permanently at worst.

tempted as he is to double down on the apology, evan acquiesces, inclining his head slightly as he flashes a sheepish grin upward, lifting a shoulder in a halfhearted shrug. his eyes roam, flitting past travis as if searching for an answer, and after a beat, he shrugs again, more solidly this time, sucking on his teeth before he says, flatly, definitively, "not really." he surprises himself by laughing, by the sincerity of it. "but i mean - you're the same age as me, right? do you have anything figured out?" it's playful, teasing, lighthearted as evan leans to bump his shoulder against travis. "but, i mean - i'm happy. so that's good enough for now, isn't it?"

he says the words so simply,  and it brings an ache to travis's chest,   because maybe if he been able to love his brother the same way,   he could still be here.   logically,   he knows that's not true—     the wilderness would have found a way to claim the young boy eventually,   especially after all the times it'd already tried.   he still blames himself for it regardless,   knowing that if he had been a better brother,  he could have found a way to prevent it.   maybe.   or maybe it was inevitable—    and still,   javi deserved a better brother,   one like evan,   who can so easily share the love he has for his sister.   

the idea of telling javi he loved him always made travis feels like he was suffocating,  like it was too vulnerable,  too intimate,  too ridiculous.   but of course he did love him,   of course he did—     and of course,   he couldn't blame javi if he never knew that.

his brows furrow as evan goes on,   his head slowly nodding as he takes it all in.  it's what he did,  technically—-    told javi to go,   loosened the overprotective grip he had on him that never really spared him from anything.   and then javi really was gone.    he wonders how evan's sister feels about him now,   if she regrets telling him to go,  regrets not going with him,  but he can't speculate for long,  because he doesn't know her at all.   ❝  you never considered going back?  ❞   he asks curiously,   his head barely turning to look back at him.   

he scoffs,  shaking his head and waving his hand in front of him.    ❝  don't have to apologize,  ❞    he insists,  and if he could muster up the courage to say the rest,  he would let evan know that he doesn't actually mind listening to other people's stories.    ❝   —  so,   did you figure any of it out?  ❞    he asks,  wanting him to understand that he is genuinely listening, genuinely curious.

[surviveds]

he's never really asked about alden's father - mostly because alex has no desire to answer any similar question about himself in return. he'd been interrogated thoroughly by gregory when jesus has initially brought him in, thought nothing he said seemed to satisfy the man - as if he expected martin dalton to somehow be grateful to hilltop - him especially - for sheltering alex; as if his father gave a damn about him, even at the end of the world.

but alden's response piques his interest, alex tilting his head to study him, as if attempting to see the truth of it. it's not too hard to imagine: alden does seem comfortable with a bow, a years-old familiarity. "i tried out competitive archery for a while," alex says, "but i got bored of it. i liked hitting live targets better." a confession he'd once be hesitant to divulge; it's not something people like to hear (it's not ladylike, his mother would often say, and that was the first time it occurred to alex how much he liked hearing that). but he'd taken to hunting well; enjoyed the buildup as much as the payoff. his father despised trophy hunting, possessing a you kill it, you eat it mindset that he'd drilled into his children, and alex of all of his siblings excelled at it: if not a deer, then a squirrel, a rabbit, a turkey.

alex slides the arrow he'd been toying with back into the quiver, nodding thoughtfully, snorting out a laugh as he nods understandably. "smart people are scared of guns. you can kill just as easy with a bow, of course, but - i don't know. i guess they just don't feel as..." he clicks his tongue, shrugs. "destructive is a good word, i think." even now, alex still isn't accustomed to the thunderclap of a bullet, the way you can hear it cut through the air, the gunpowder smoke that burns his nose. "honestly, a spear's way cooler anyway," alex says with another laugh. "very spartacus, you know?"

he dismisses the question with a wave of his hand and roll of his eyes. "i just don't really have a better choice," he admits. he's passably capable of defending himself with a knife, but he's always meant to ask for further training - and maybe he's a little jealous that he doesn't have a better, cooler weapon. "but at least i don't have to worry about ammo. not with you around."

he thinks back to his childhood,  a vision of a boy he can’t imagine anyone who knows him now would’ve recognized.  his father worked so hard to mold his sons after him—- he was partly successful,  though he failed with alden,  who turned out to be a “trouble maker” on his eyes  (  though he mostly kept to himself,  unless determined to call his father on something,  and his arguments only seemed to set him off.  )   ❝  not exactly.   my father,  he had me and my big brother learnin’ archery when we were real little,  but we never hunted.   I preferred it that way,  but I never really understood it—- s’pose I’m grateful for it now,  huh?  ❞   he chuckles,  because being grateful for anything from his father seemed to be so rare.  ❝ I’ve never liked guns,  though.  was real scared of ‘em as a kid, and I s’pose—-  I got used to ‘em now,  when we had to,  but I try not to use ‘em if I don’t have to.  I like my weapons handcrafted, anyway,  ❞   he notes,  playfully tapping his spear against the ground as he places his other hand on his hip, looking back to alex.    ❝ so,  that why you like the bow now?  ❞

[surviveds]

her assessment prompts baby to actually study the decor as well. he'd given a halfhearted glance around the entryway, mostly to assess the crew and the exit, but beyond that - it hadn't exactly been of interest to investigate. he'd been content to find a dark corner and shuffle through his collection of music players, settle on a playlist, and ride out the wait. it still plays, a comfortable thrum that drowns out the incessant whine of his tinnitus, and baby finds his hands easing back into proper rhythm as he looks around, taking note of the peeling wallpaper, the fine layer of dust settled across the house like a second skin, and baby suddenly feels his nose begin to twitch, as if noticing the dust has given it permission to irritate him.

he wipes the sleeve of his jacket across his face, squinting behind his glasses.

"creepy, all right." it's a half-murmur, noncommittal, his agreement stemming moreso from the deep-seated instinct to not argue. typically, that entails not speaking at all, his default, his comfort zone - but she's more approachable than the rest. (maybe joey's a close second, but he's not eager to be dissected anytime soon; he'd slipped away once the analysis had started, found his way here, expecting to be undisturbed.)

at least baby doesn't feel the immediate need to get away - though he does shift slightly in his chair, undeniably unnerved by the way she's looking at him. his mouth is dry as he responds, in the same mumbling tone, "don't ever feel the same to me." maybe the thrill overpowers any monotony. baby's never had reason to question it - not only because he has little say in what it is he does; he just doesn't want to. oppressive as it is, living under doc's thumb, he gets to do what he likes. it's the small things that make life, after all.

but he doubts that answer will satisfy her; he's never had anyone inquire after him like this, so his experience in the area is minimal, but there's a gut feeling about it. the corners of his mouth press downward into a contemplative frown, and baby leans forward, slides his mp3 into his pocket, and, in a move that surprises himself, lifts his glasses from the bridge of his nose - and busies his hands with fidgeting with them, smoothing his thumb along the round, plastic edges. "requires a lot of thought, actually. driving, i mean. gotta pay attention. miss a turn, and it's over."

he looks just past sammy as he speaks, focused on a spot on the wall, some long-dried, indecipherable stain. he's not accustomed to speaking so much, to being looked at like this, and for the first time since he was a child, he feels an anger towards doc for forcing him on this job. whatever favor owed, whatever debt needed to be paid, baby shouldn't have gotten involved. this wasn't their deal. it sours his expression, like a child tasting sour candy for the first time, and as quickly as they'd been removed, baby's sliding his glasses back into place, easing into his chair in a practiced effort to seem relaxed. agreeable. his arms fold across his chest, casual in theory, but his knuckles are bone-white from the force of his fingers curling to fists, anxiety humming through his system. he shrugs, indifferent, sucking at his teeth before he replies, "don't really have a style. any car's good enough for me, 'cause i know what i'm doin'."

she’s bored,  because without the technology she uses like a clutch,   she’s not really sure what she has to offer.   this isn’t her usual type of job—   in the beginning, sure, she had her place, she knew what she was doing.   but babysitting?  spending the night without her devices, without a way to bring her own expertise to the group— all she’s really left with is picking apart the others,  trying to figure them out.   she doesn’t have the same skill as joey, though— but baby gives her enough to be curious about.

❝  well, yeah.  it’s fucking boring,  ❞    she agrees,  fingers twirling at her hair absentmindedly as she glances around,  taking a look at the room they’re in.   ❝  and— creepy as hell.  kind of cool, though.  ❞    maybe a story she’d love to tell, surviving a night in a place straight out of some old horror film—  not that she’d ever have the chance, sworn to secrecy, keeping her business and personal life separate.  

she brings her attention back to him in a quick turn of her head,  leaning forward as she clicks her tongue to the roof of her mouth.  she examines him,  eyes looking over his features,  studying his body language,  a small smirk forming on her lips.   ❝  that can’t be too exciting,  right?   doing the same exact thing every single time?   ❞    because that’s what this is for her:  it’s fun.   it’s also all she has,  and she takes pride in it.   but joey wasn’t wrong,  calling her out the way she does—   she doesn’t get her hands dirty,  that’s why it’s so easy to fall back on the fun of it all,  not really allowing herself to think about it deeper than that.  there’s also a reason she’s glad to not be on child-watch.   

❝  i guess you and i are kinda in the same boat,  ❞    she points out,  pushing herself off the counter and spinning around slowly,  taking in the sight once more before eyes land back on his.   she’s quick at her job, too—  but she never usually minds how long a job takes beyond that.  it keeps her busy.  that’s better than the alternatives, she thinks.   ❝  i bet that van isn't your usual style, though. ❞