with blood in my teeth

My name is Samuel Bennett. Washinton Library ; scavenger I've never visited Omaha, but I guess the end of the world is as good a reason as any. C'est la vie.

[samuelbennett-blog1]

your ideal last meal?

This is bleak isn’t it? Er… I’d rather not have one? Knowing it’s a last meal just means your inevitable end is coming, doesn’t it? I’d rather not have a last meal because then maybe my death will be a surprise. Woop dee doo?

[samuelbennett-blog1]

would you rather fight a bear or an alligator

N-neither! That’s a terrible choice - zombies are bad enough! Ugh, I mean, a bear is on land and probably easier to see to run away from! Can I use weapons? Bear. I choose bear.

[samuelbennett-blog1]

what's your favorite thing about the apocalypse

Favorite thing? I don’t think there is anything to like about it! B-but, I guess… if I have to choose, meeting new people that you otherwise wouldn’t have met under other circumstances.

[heartlandhq]

Heartland Honesty Day!

Here’s how it works: instead of doing a few hours where only a few people in the accommodating timezone can play, Honesty Day, well, lasts all day! From 12 AM EST Wednesday to 12 AM EST Thursday, you may send and receive anons (or off anon, be brave) to all participating members. To participate, reblog this post onto every character you want to be in the game and only send questions to those who have reblogged this post. Include everyone who wants to play. No hate will be tolerated and you are not required to answer any questions that upset you, but other than that, go hog wild and have tons of fun all gosh darn day!

[tragediist]

a closed starter for @samuelbennett !

      Casey Liem stood tall like a tree. He was hard to push over, firm and statuesque. His stature made him a great football player, no one could push past him, it was like trying to move a car. Now, however? Matthew was right, size wasn’t everything, or rather that the lighter ones fared better. Never did he curse his own height  ( in fact, it was the one thing, being 6′4, that Casey felt comfortable lording over others )  more than when he was running away from the undead—he was fast, legs stinging with the familiar feeling of muscles being stretched and used again, but he felt more like a bull than a gazelle. The undead were fast, too, much more than any zombie media he had watched before had suggested, but he supposed that was the nature of fiction. They were fast, but fortunately still not fast enough to catch him even on a slow day.

      That didn’t mean Casey liked to dawdle when outside though and the force in which he barreled into the house could have struck the door down. Luckily it didn’t, or he wouldn’t have been safe… temporarily, always temporarily. Pressing up against it, his fingers fumbled to lock the door before the strength of the zombie on the other side could get a chance to overpower him. Once it finally switched into place, Casey hesitantly stepped back, sweat clinging to his skin despite the still-cold air that washed over him as he walked further into the empty house.

      Not empty, though. Casey nearly jumped out of his skin once he looked around the room and saw a figure—he quickly noted it wasn’t undead, they tended to lunge straight for you once you were spotted. No, perhaps worse, that meant they were human.

[samuelbennett-blog1]

Samuel doesn't expect another to intrude in on his scavenging. He's digging out a pantry for cans of wet dog food, knowing that they might one day have to be used as last resort meals. There's a loud bang as the door flies open, and he jumps to his feet. He'd left it closed so there's no way an undead could've got in. The realization that the source of the sound if probably very human terrifies Samuel. He quickly reenters the room that leads to the front door, freezing at the entry of the kitchen to take in the young man before him.

Standing at six foot, not many are taller than Samuel. This guy, though, he's taller and most definitely broader. Fear settles in the pit of his stomach and he drops the cans of dog food cradled in his arms. Was he bit? Is he armed? Will he attack? The questions run through Samuel's brain on a continuous loop, and for the umpteenth time that month he curses himself for not acquiring a gun.

"W-what are you- are you, are-" he can't finish his statements as his stutter grows more prevalent in his speech. Though, it looks like he had been running for something. Samuel thinks he may have simply been looking for refuge. He doesn't let that assumption ease him because he can be very wrong. With his hands slowly raising up to show they are empty and he's unarmed with that bat hanging through his belt loop uselessly, Samuel asks, "Is this your home? I-I thought it was abandoned, I'll p-put everything back, I swear."

[samuelbennett-blog1]

effcrvescence:

“I don’t blame you. It’s hard, I think. Everything’s harder these days, but we’re trying. That’s what matters, right?” She offers a comforting smile because compassion means a lot these days, shoving her hands in her pockets when he stands again. He towers over her, easily standing at around 6 feet, and his presence should be all sorts of intimidating. Serena’s always been one to give benefit of the doubt, though—it’s a habit that has been tempered by the outbreak. Not everyone is kind, not everyone is trustworthy, and it is better to look first than jump first. 

Still, he seems nice. Not a threat. ( She would’ve ran if she thought he was. ) 

What a strange scene they must make: A girl in a too-big hoodie from the racks of an abandoned H&M and a lanky man in clothes who haven’t seen a washing machine in weeks standing in the middle of a desolate parking lot. There are stranger things, she supposes, like corpses come back to life and the government going underground like something out of a conspiracy theory. 

“I’m glad you’re okay. Wouldn’t want another person to…y’know.” She waves her hand vaguely. They both know what fate she’s talking about. There’s only two options in this world—dead or undead—and neither are preferable. “Plus you seem nice. I’m Serena, and I guess it’s a good thing I’m not wandering. Just on my way back.” She doesn’t mention where; although he seems harmless, she’d rather know where he’s from first before giving up any information about Bergan. 

“Well, you’re not alone now, yeah? We can keep going together? I dunno if you have any plans to stick around this mall, but I don’t.” She glances back towards the building, fleeting memories of hours spent sorting through the black hole of Forever 21 and Victoria’s Secret sales, of looking for homecoming dresses her senior year. Now it’s just an empty shell of what consumerism and capitalism used to be. No more mall pretzels and caramel frappaccinos. No more customers, either.

Trying really is all they can do, but Samuel bites back that answer. Normally a down-in-the-dumps kind of guy, he avoids spreading all doom and gloom if he can. The rain cloud thoughts can stay inside where they won't weather down someone else's hope and optimism. And her optimism is what Samuel needs as the adrenaline ebbs out of his system, leaving him jittery and paranoid like a skittish bunny rabbit.

Samuel takes a look down at her, standing much taller than she does, and nods his head. "Become zombie kibble?" he finishes her thought in his own words. It's bitter sounding, but there's this grim and dark looking smile he wears in amusement. It's morbid, really, to joke about death and infection these days. Karma may have it that he won't be so lucky next time. Silently, Samuel apologizes to whoever is in charge of their fates at this point in time.

Serena is her name, and Samuel mentally repeats it as to not forget. He doesn't know where she's from, but he doesn't need to ask. She's kind and friendly, it certainly can't be a trap. He wills that suspicious thought away the moment it crosses his mind, not daring to let it consume his mind. Serena isn't an enemy, she's made that much clear about herself.

"There might be more of them -" he motions to the corpse of the child on the ground, "- crawling around in there. It's better to stay away, right?" It's almost like he's asking her opinion. He shouldn't be so careless, there were plenty of convenience stores he saw on his trek from the library. He never much liked malls anyway, video games are obsolete and he has all the comics he needs back at base. "Are you familiar with this area? We can find a grocery store, split the stuff we find fifty-fifty?"

[samuelbennett-blog1]

honourmade:

It hadn’t been his intention. Not really. But fear was onehell of a way to motivate someone to move.Of course, one still had to deal with the mess once the dust settled but fearmade it so there were later consequences to deal with in whatever fumblingmanner one could. Swallowing back the apology that wants to jump forth he nodsin affirmation even as his eyes dart from head to toe, a habit he’s quicklygotten into since folks simply decided to follow at his heel “I’ll hold you tothat,” he says and this time he offers a smile—all that training wasn’t aboutto go to waste even if he didn’t have a higherup breathing down his neck for good police representation “Still…you’dbe…surprised where the infected can pretzel themselves into and just exactlywhere they’ll come running out of at the first whiff of you.”

And there he goes again. Probably making everything worse. You’re good at that, shouldn’t you be aimingto make everything better?

The contact oddly enough, helps calm him down. Bringingabout a sense of normalcy that is sorely missing in this post-apocalypticworld. A sense of warmth spreads and his smile becomes that much more genuine.Maybe he did still struggle with some of the training sticking in place—public speakingand people interactions had neverbeen his forte “Never was.” He replies easy as can be “Helps to have someone inyour corner though.”

Looking beyond the other to the massive building looming farbehind him he can almost feel the pull. The near gravitational pull the complexhas on him. On them. And seemingly an unfortunate number of infected in thegeneral area “No…no I can see the appeal trust me,” he jerks his chin towardsthe mall “No man’s land it may be but the resources inside…almost rivals the Costcoin town yeah?”

He shifts and returns his hands to his weapon, keeping it atthe ready but aimed away from the other survivor “It could be doable you know…” he wets his lips and looks back to him “Butyou’d need to do a whole lot of planning—need a considerable sum of resourcesto even try and…” he does his third once over of the other but this time it’sopenly considering “And a few more helping hands.”

Are you volunteering?

“I’m alone right now,” he corrects and holds his hand outagain “Name’s Daniel—probably just as mad as you because now you’ve got me thinking about going in there and I’mhaving a real hard time telling myself no.”

If it wasn't for the man's smile Samuel would be too busy thinking about the undead contorting themselves in vents and crawl spaces and everywhere he's never thought to check for them before. Under cars is one of them, and maybe that biter came from under one nearby. It's likely it's some rogue kid and not the one meant for that abandoned car-seat Samuel was so transfixed on. The thought doesn't make him feel any better.

"More terrifying," Samuel smiles nervously. But he appreciates the other man's company and attempt at conversation. There's something about him that makes Samuel feel safe.

His eyes follow back to the mall that's dark and bleak looking, but he's definitely glad he's not alone in the thought. There has to be enough outlets in there to cover many different supplies. Clothes and boots, blankets and bedding, maybe snacks and he can even grab a toy for Nayeli's little one. Just because the world is dark it doesn't mean a five year old can enjoy a stuffed animal or puzzle. There's plenty of potential and not a single doubt crosses Samuel's mind. Even at the chance of past looters, the doors and windows look in tact, and they'll never really know if it's a waste unless they try.

"I haven't seen the Costco yet..." Samuel admits. He's only traveled so far within the last month, finding most days were better spent inside reading comic books. He's seen a Costco before, just not the one on Omaha. He's heard something or other about it being a place of refuge, but Samuel's never asked much more about it. He decides not to because the mall looks like a good place to scavenge through even at the prospect of true danger. Samuel's never been wise, likely to jump then ask later before his nerves make him stall on the decision, and he almost did just that.

There's a contemplative look on Samuel's face. With his eyebrows creasing his forehead, he chews on his bottom lip and only seems to tune back in at the name the man supplies. "Oh, uh, Samuel," he quickly introduces himself and takes the hand offered to him for a quick firm shake. "Do you... want..." To go in? Samuel wants to ask, but he just makes an indication to the large windows of the entrance. He might not have a gun but at least Daniel has something that can be formidable against the undead. "We can take a look through the front windows, see what it looks like."

[samuelbennett-blog1]

HEADCANONS - Physical Afflictions

1. Stutter - Samuel has always had a stutter, but after spending time with a speech coach through out his younger years it's been reduced to a subtle quirk that pops up when he's stressed or scared. He maintains it very well, now.

2. Asthma - Asthma is an affliction that Samuel's mastered at handling, so long as he has his inhaler on hand. Since the end of the world and the impossibility of getting a prescription from his probably-zombified doctor, he's been without one. He struggles with wheezing and his lungs tightening up in high adrenaline and stressful situations. Never has a full on asthma attack been triggered, but there's always the fear of it happening...

3. Anxiety - Samuel keeps to himself a lot due to his anxiety and paranoia. He fidgets and needs to move and keep busy otherwise his mind goes into overdrive and he starts to emotionally shut down. Thankfully he's not had a full blown panic attack that reduced him to a hyperventilating mess since high school, and only deals with mild anxiety at this point in his life.

[calcmities-blog]

@samuelbennett

A gloomy overcast sky was promising a change in the weather and made visibility poor, forcing Aiden to seek refuge in one of the homes on the dead end road. Her pillaging was going about as well to be expected in a neighborhood that had likely been picked clean in the first wave of the outbreak, yet she still found herself desperately hoping to find something, anything that was usable. The first bit of snow began falling as she hacked her way through the overgrown lawn. Winter had been brutal that year and with Spring quickly approaching, it seemed to be desperately clutching onto it’s last leg. The first fourteen years of her life were spent on the Florida coast with nothing but sun, sand, and rain, leaving much to be desired. 

Kitchen cabinets are open, the contents deemed useless strewn about the room. A few cans of mixed vegetables were let at the back of the pantry, surprisingly accompanied by an unopened bag of potato chips. Deciding then that beggars can’t be choosers, she hoists herself up onto the counter top and helps herself the chips. They’ve got a bit stale and wouldn’t have been her first choice pre-apocalypse, but junk food just so happens to be her favorite kind of food. Aiden’s content to sit there until the Squall passes, filling up on food and collecting whatever other supplies she may be able to scrounge up.

Her ears were tuned to the slightest stirring. Other than the sound of the wind blowing through the surrounding trees and rattling the windows, there was nothing. Rather than that being something that should have made her relax, her persisent paranoia refused to let her enjoy the time alone. The snow was only falling harder, showing no signs of letting up any time soon. A dull thud from the entryway made her turn quickly, abandoning her snack as she jumps down. Pulling the Glock from the holster at her hip, she cautiously makes her way back to the main part of the house. It’s there that she’s met with an unfamiliar face standing just inside the threshold, covered in snow and visibly shaken. 

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” Aiden questions, a steady grip on the gun in her right hand, her left cradled underneath. “This place is occupied… So unless you want a bullet between the eyes, I suggest you keep it moving.” Stealing a glance out the window next to the door just behind him, her stern gaze softens for a moment, taking pity on the stranger – he was in the same position as her, seeking refuge from the elements. She curses her best friend for having a lasting effect on her kindness, try as she might to rid herself of sensitivities to other people that weren’t among her inner circle. Her hold on the weapon is unwavering, though she does step back to give the other some space. “You hurt?”

[samuelbennett-blog1]

It's a beautiful morbid day, the sun refusing to show its face and instead remaining hidden behind the thick storm clouds that roll by slowly throughout the sky. The prospect of a storm has been looming overhead for hours, since daybreak, and yet no rain or snow had fallen over Omaha. Samuel had been so stupid enough to chance it and left the shelter of the library to explore. There's had been a cool breeze and the distant chill rolling in... nothing more.

Turns out once Samuel got to be too far to get back to his camp in time fate would have it that the wind would pick up and snow would begin to fall. It wasn't even the soft powdery sort, just a mix of ice and sleet that became chilling to the bone. If Samuel tried to even sprint his way home he'd be soaked to the bone and definitely prone to getting sick. He opts out of that choice and instead seeks refuge in a house he finds. He avoids two undead in his trek up the street, ducking behind cars and slipping by as they shamble in the opposite direction until he's standing at the mailbox.

Albeit risky, Samuel jogs up the driveway. The gravel crunches beneath his worn in boots and he keeps his head ducked under the hood of his jacket so that the snow and wind don't assault his face. He stumbles up the couple of porch steps and fumbles with the front door. If even it's locked then he can try any windows or just sit under the overhang until it blows over. Fortunately Samuel feels the knob turn under his grip and he pushes in. He shivers and tries to shake off some of the snow hanging on his coat. When he pulls down the hood he's met with another person. A hostile one at that.

Samuel squeaks and sucks in a breath (embarrassingly, but he's too petrified to even admit that) and scrambles back against the door shut behind him. There's no way he can open it and run down that driveway fast enough to avoid a bullet. The yard is large and open, he's a clear target. But there's a shift in her expression that Samuel can see, and her threat is dissolving under the concern she then presents. Slowly, he shakes his head. "J-just... wet and cold. No bites, I'm, uh... I should go..." But Samuel doesn't move, just stands there with his back against the door. The wind buffets against the walls and the windows shake. He really doesn't want to be walking in the snowstorm.

Cautiously, Samuel requests, "Unless I can wait that out... I can stay to myself, I won't take anything. I even have some jerky I can give you as a thank you?"

[samuelbennett-blog1]

joxpacker:

Jo exhales a shaky breath as the other takes a step back but the boy’s tone is enough to keep him from celebrating. He sees his own fear reflected back at him and slowly lowers his hammer. The look the other boy gives him as he begs to be left alone sinks Jo’s stomach. With a strong distaste for being feared when unnecessary, his voice lowers. “Me neither.” He’s twitchy in his behavior, his fingers still fidgeting, but his eyes are solidly glued on the other. It occurs to him that perhaps the other boy is more dependent of the lot than he imagines. “If..” Jo hesitates, but ultimately continues, “If this is your home, stay. I can go. I don’t want to hurt anyone.” Jo shows the other boy the palms of his shaky hands as he takes another step forward. All he can focus on are the nails poking out of the bat, one strike of the boy’s part and he’ll be gone for sure, if not instantaneous death than an infection that won’t be delayed. His lips suddenly feel very dry and the word please escapes his lips in a hushed whisper carried by the light wind as he hopes the use of anything greater than words wont be required. 

Samuel is sure he's hearing things when Jo lowers his hammer. 'Me either,' is what he admits, and it causes for Samuel to hold his breath in hope that this is a sign that there won't be any unnecessary bloodshed between both of them. It's like a switch is flipped and the boy standing opposite of him looks almost remorseful. Samuel frowns to himself without realizing he's doing it. "No no, by all means..." He releases his bat with one hand to wave it. "It's free land, I don't stake any claim to it. I-I was just passing through and then..."

The little undead made a jump to him, trying to fill it's belly. Samuel finally takes his eyes off of Jo to look sullenly at the little one for all of a moment. It's about when Jo moves again that he looks back, and Samuel tucks the handle of the bat into his belt loop. He sure hopes he's making the right choice. "I don't want to hurt you, either. I'm s-sorry if I scared you or whatever, I'm just walking through." Exploring, per se, seeking out something useful for the library, etc.He looks to the old blood on the hammer and splattered in specks over Jo’s attire. “You... you’re okay?”

[samuelbennett-blog1]

eudaimcnia:

There was so much fear running through everyone that Finn hadn’t seen how ugly humanity could be just yet. When supplies began running out or weapons became scarce, Finn knew people would only grow more and more desperate with each passing day. People were still cautious, maybe even still helpful, and Finn wondered when that would start to deteriorate. 

So far, everyone Finn has met in Omaha seems pleasant enough. There were no big, loud personalities that caused him to feel threatened, which he was incredibly thankful for.  Samuel seemed like a nice enough lad, if not a little jittery. He was honest, maybe even too much so, knowing the threat he could face admitting he’d never survive on his own. So, he was part of a camp; that was useful. It felt easier to connect to him knowing they were all part of this little society together, even if in separate spaces. At his odd comment about not taking his body parts, Finn half-snorted, half chuckled. He jokingly made a relieved face before a smirk lifted to the corners of his lips. “That’s good to hear, mate. Not sure we need to resort to cannibalism just yet.” Finn’s jokes were often a bit crude but, well, fuck it. Hopefully the guy would realize he was only kidding.

Finn then noticed Samuel’s hesitancy to reveal his location. Fair enough. How many times has Finn done the same? He hated to admit where he lived, hated to think that if he gave that information away one day, he’d be the reason why the camp would be attacked. Costco was already sought after because of supplies to begin with. 

He nodded, another smile lifting to his features. “I’m from London, yeah. Definitely not from ‘round these parts. Never even been to the States before this.” He could feel his heart sink just a little at hearing the words out loud, hated knowing he most likely wouldn’t get back home; at least not for a long, long time. He offered a kind smile, grasping the man’s hand in his with a firm shake. “It‘s a pleasure, Samuel. I’m Finn.” He let his hand fall back to his side, a slight chuckle and nod before meeting his gaze again. “Suppose so. I’m not far up the road either. I’m in a camp too, with my sister.” 

Finn does prompt a slight chuckle out of Samuel, but he quickly masks it with a cough. "I hope we never have to..." he adds to the thought of cannibalism. "Isn't that what caused mad cow disease? Cows eating other ground up cows... I know they ate other animals too, but regardless- prions and sponge brains and what not? We'd all die from eating each other..." And not because they'd be hunting each other, but because they would get fatally sicl. He finds he's rambling a bit of useless information at this man and a warmth blossoms along his cheek bones. He clears his throat.

But yes, London. Back onto the topic of introductions and filler information so they can get to know each other on an amicable level. Samuel isn't sure he's ready to go on about the science of human flesh consumption any longer so he's quite relieved that they steer off that topic. But London? Was that where Mariella is from? He wonders that but he doesn't say it out loud. This man surely wouldn't know her. It's like assuming he knows every American in the country simply because they share the same country of origin.

"I'm sure you've gathered we're not all so bitey... Americans, I mean. This - whatever it is - isn't exclusive to... just us...?" Samuel trails off with his attempt at light humor realizing that he may as well be referring to the stranger's home as a part of the infected population. It's not so funny when he thinks of it like that.

Turns out he, Finn as Samuel learns, isn't alone. Much to Samuel's surprise Omaha is the home to several large groups. It's fortunate they are all amicable and not up in arms with one another over supplies. Survival always works with a system, and even if the higher the population the more supplies that are needed can pose a problem, having more people to lean on outside your own fami- er, group, can be beneficial. Through trading and protection and a system of communication, Samuel believes that to be a reason why he's seen so many living people in one area.

"So..." with a short exhale, Samuel blows a strand of his messy hair of his face. He looks to the bush he saw Finn pulling plants from. "You were... I mean, what's that for? Is it medicinal?" Samuel knows nothing of botany or herbs  and what not, so he can only ask in hopes he doesn't sound completely dumb.

[hanarichinspiration-blog]

[all] quirks my muse habitually has.

[samuelbennett-blog1]

inspirant:

writers, bold all of your character’s regular truths.

1. smoking: the action or habit of inhaling and exhaling the smoke of tobacco or a drug. 2. binge drinking: the consumption of an excessive amount of alcohol in a short period of time. 3. drug abuse: the habitual taking of illegal drugs. 4. nail biting: a common body language sign of anxiety/tension. 5. lip biting: a common body language sign of anxiety/tension. 6. night owl: a person who is habitually active or wakeful at night. 7. early bird: a person who rises, arrives, or acts before the usual or expected time. 8. negative attitudes: a philosophy of approaching life with criticism and pessimism. 9. positive attitudes: a philosophy of approaching life with optimism and confidence. 10. swearing: the use of offensive language. 11. superstitious: an irrational belief that an object, action, or circumstance not logically related to a course of events influences its outcome. 12. inspecting fingernails: a common body language sign of boredom. 13. scratching your neck: a common body language sign of uncertainty. 14. foot and finger tapping: a common body language sign of stress/impatience. 15. nose touch: a subtle body language sign of deceit. 16. flipping hair: a common body language sign of craving attention. 17. twirling hair: a common body language sign of flirtation. 18. cracking knuckles: a common body language sign of readiness. 19. hands behind back: a common body language sign of confidence. 20. finger pointing: a common body language sign of authority. 21. hands on hips: a common body language sign of readiness. 22. hands in pockets: a common body language sign of mistrust/reluctance. 23. frequent touch: a common body language sign of warmth/familiarity. 24. throat clearing: a common body language sign of rejection/doubt. 25. jaw clenching: a common body language sign of hostility. 26. eye rolling: a common body language sign of irritation. 27. head tilt: a common body language sign of interest. 28. whistling: to emit high-pitched sound by forcing breath through a small hole between one’s lips or teeth; usually to a tune. 29. humming: make a low, steady continuous sound like that of a bee; usually to a tune. 30. perfectionism: refusal to accept any standard short of perfection. 31. photographic memory: the ability to remember information or visual images in great detail. 32. paranoia: a mental condition characterized by delusions of persecution, unwarranted jealousy, or exaggerated self-importance, typically worked into an organized system. 33. exaggeration: a statement that represents something as better or worse than it really is. 34. intuitive: using or based on what one feels to be true even without conscious reasoning; instinctive. 35. quick witted: showing or characterized by an ability to think or respond quickly and effectively. 36. interrupting: breaking the continuity of a conversation with one’s own statements. 37. doodling: to scribble or make rough drawings, absent-mindedly. 38. irritable: having or showing a tendency to be easily annoyed. 39. gambling: to play games of chance for money; bet. 40. travel sick: suffering from nausea caused by the motion of a moving vehicle, boat, or aircraft. 41. sensitive: having or displaying a quick and delicate appreciation of others’ feelings. 42. melancholy: a feeling of pensive sadness, typically with no obvious cause. 43. chewing gum: the exercise of chewing flavoured gum which is not intended for swallowing. 44. fidgeting: to make small movements, especially of the hands and feet, through nervousness or impatience. 45. skeptical: not easily convinced; having doubts or reservations. 46. neat freak: compulsively obsessed with cleanliness. 47. gossiping: divulging personal information about others. 48. prim: feeling or showing disapproval of anything regarded as improper; stiffly correct. 49. abbreviating: giving others nicknames/shortening names/giving pet names. 50. having a catchphrase: having a sentence or phrase typically associated with a specific person.

[samuelbennett-blog1]

desmcdres:

“unsettling?” nayeli scoffs. “that’s one way of putting it.” she’d also add devastating, too-close-to-home, and viscerally upsetting–but, hey, unsettling wasn’t bad either. “i’d rather deal with the dogs from resident evil or those gross cave creatures from the descent–” although that, too, was a little too close to home, wasn’t it? “–then see another undead kid.” she still hadn’t explained the whole process to lupe who, at nearing six years old, could only comprehend the most important facts of the case, but with a mind more plastic than an adult’s, was more than willing to accept the new reality as normal. it was enough that she knew the library was home base, anyone that resembled the dead were dangerous, and that she should stay away from anyone that looked like they were getting sick.

there isn’t much a kid could do to contribute to a camp and nayeli knows that there are people in this world who would see her as dead weight. nayeli is sure that john wouldn’t stand for someone showing unkindness to a child, but she knows she must always plan ahead. determined to keep her safe in the confines of the camp, she’s made sure the girl finds ways to contribute. lupe can make sandwiches, do some small cooking with supervision–she’s been baking and fixing eggs with nayeli and abuela since she was four–and can help rerack books. it still leaves her plenty of time to play and learn. lupe will have a childhood if nayeli has to shove a knife through the brainstem of every reanimated corpse in nebraska for her to do it.

“you weren’t dumb, güey.” nayeli insists, fingers drumming the head of her mattock where it rests through her belt loop. “there might’ve been something good in there,  you know? and you ended up okay. i mean, any mistake you can walk away from–” she leaves the sentence to hang in the air between them. “anyway, man–i’m not heading anywhere in particular. you want to check it out with some backup or, like, we can find some other place to regret searching.” she tilts her head playfully. nayeli has always been an ambitious woman, but she has the heart of a clown and an unyielding optimism. even when the dead walk the earth, she still has her daughter and her health. there are people much worse off.

Perhaps unsettling is the understatement, and Samuel flinches as he remembers Nayeli has her own child. It probably is a scene from a nightmare of hers to think that that child could be-

No.

Samuel stops that train of thought before it derails. He'd never wish that on a mother, and he certainly can't stomach the idea of one of his own comrads suffering through such a tragic ordeal.

"Resident Evil all the way," he scoffs with a grim and uneasy looking smile. He shakes his head to rid himself of the idea, though. He tries with dark humor and suggests, "Could you imagine if Albert Wesker was behind all of this?" The Umbrella Corporation could be the butterfly effect behind the downfall of human civilization all with the escape of a contagion. The true difference is the lack of mutations and animal hosts, and thank whatever freaking almight deity is out there that all they have are rabid-like humans. They're definitely more in a 28 Days Later universe, though Samuel would've preferred zombies that couldn't run...

Most mistakes anyone can walk away from, unless one ends up with a cresent shape chunk taken out of them. Samuel swallows dryly at the thought. He's been bite free since the start of it all, he intends to keep it that way. It's a wonder he chose to scavenge as his form of contribution. Warily, Samuel eyes the front entrance of the mall and makes a popping sound with his mouth. "Would you th-think that maybe there's anything worth scavenging in there?" Clothes, definitely, maybe various items they can use for bedding and cleaning, the like. Anything is a piece of treasure nowadays.

"We might need more than two of us to conquer that one, right?" Samuel cocks his head to the side as he looks back to Nayeli. He can't be so careless after that mistake. Not to mention it was about a two hour walk from the library and it's later in the day, it may be easier (and wiser) to scavenge on the path back to base. But, Nayeli despite being younger has more common sense and courage than he, so he prompts, "You want to check it out, or we can check out the apartments on Bedford Avenue...? It's a halfway point between here and the library."

[samuelbennett-blog1]

notporcelain:

I’m lucky. Something in the way he said it didn’t convince her, though she largely suspected that had a lot to do with how new he was to the group. Mariella’s initial apprehension faded quite quickly, but not everyone shares the same high opinion of the place. Where she’s found a home for as long as they’ll allow her to stay, perhaps the Library is but a stop along the way for him. “That’s…A fair assessment.” He was lucky, they all were. Some people weren’t fortunate enough to have a roof over their heads, let alone a group of individuals willing to watch their backs. Their leader was doing the best he could, everyone was pulling their weight; it almost seemed to be too good to be true.

Exciting her wasn’t terribly difficult, the woman was able to find joy in just about anything. And for as mundane as most may find their chosen conversation topic, there was no denying how relaxing it was to talk about something other than their impending doom. “Miles Morales? Who’s that?” She questions, eyes widening. Her knowledge of Spider-man started and ended with the films. Her parents were both pretentious English professors, comic books and graphic novels in general weren’t literature in their eyes. 

“Yes!” Is called after him, all but jumping up as he heads off. One of the best parts about living there meant having so many books on hand, no matter the time of day. All she had to do was close her eyes, point, and there would be something new for her to read. It shouldn’t have surprised her how extensive the graphic novel section was, yet her eyes once again widened in disbelief. “I don’t even know where to begin, so if you don’t mind, you’ll have to recommend me some that I can pick out to take to him!” 

Coming to an abrupt stop next to him, the inquiry about home catches her off guard. Given she usually avoids thinking about Europe most days, the answer is evident in her hesitance. “I…” Of course she did. If planes were still usable and flying back was an option, she would’ve said cya to America weeks ago. “Yeah, I do. I really do. So much that I try to forget sometimes, you know? Seems easier.” Deciding to take a chance, she turns the question arond on him. “How about you? Wherever you’re from – do you miss it?”

Samuel likes living in a library. On days he finds nothing else to do he can find plenty of worlds outside of his own to jump into. It's not bad, even if there's risk of danger for large windows are never a promising shield up against the ravenous undead. Or any people who wanted to breach the walls and clean them out of supplies.

Still, he tries not to think about that now. Not everyone can be mean and horrible in this world...right? He doesn't dwell on it because Mariella prompts a sincere smile out of him. "Miles is a Spider-Man depiction from around 2011 based loosely off of Obama and Donald Glover..." Samuel explains, thinking of the first issue he read with the black-suited version of his favorite superhero. "Which it's funny considering Donald Glover played a criminal in Homecoming that at least makes a nod to Miles Morales..." He can only shrug as he thinks about the scene, but ultimately it's simply a theory. They'll never really know otherwise if there was any real plans for Miles Morales to join the MCU outside of the animated Into The Spiderverse they will (sadly, in Samuel's opinion) never see.

Ah, Samuel, your nerd is showing... A little bite continually given to his lower lip, he looks away as he begins to pull comics off of the shelf and thumbs through them. It's not that he has anyone there to impress, being involved in comic universes has been much more common in the millennial generation, but he worries it makes him come off sheltered. He's definitely seen more than the walls of his own home, but he doesn't verbally say that aloud. "I-I'm going to give you Spider-man comics, you know, since we're on the topic."

He does feel bad in the slightest that Mariella is reluctant to answer. He's probably triggered some feelings of longing, and he should really watch what he says to people. He began to feel anxious that he upset her until she starts to speak. Chances are she has family back home. It's likely he has a chance to check in on his adoptive parents, but to travel overseas will be impossible until something in this tragedy lets up and gives in to let everything return to normal. "One day... m-maybe one day everything will turn out okay. You'll get b-back home I'm sure..." he tries for another smile, and deep down he truly hopes Mariella can return to England. There's no place like home, after all...

"I don't really know," he quickly answers now that the topic is about him, chancing that his abrupt response will distract from her memories. "I came from Las Vegas, but I'm originally from Texas... I haven't talked to my parents in about two years. Never really had a strong relationship with them to begin with..." He mostly misses his friend from Nevada - he hasn't seen them since the ambush, and Samuel was too cowardly to turn back and see if they laid among the fallen men and women after they were attacked. "I can miss Texas as a whole, but I'm not homesick, I guess."

Samuel hands over six comics he's pulled off the shelf, all various versions of the Spider-Man universe. "I don't know if your friend will like this, but make him. Just so he can join us nerds in our love for Peter Parker."

[samuelbennett-blog1]

joxpacker:

Ideally, he hoped the other guy would have been startled enough to listen and not put up a fight. Upon first seeing him he was on the ground, so Jo assumed it would have been easy to scare him into staying put but instead he was met with resistance. He watches in mild horror as the other scrambles up to his feet. His knees feel like they’re going to tremble but he does his best in staying put, refusing to take any steps back for the fear of appearing intimidated by the other boy. His eyes move from the boy to the corpse that lies on the ground, and then back to the boy. “You have no idea what I’m capable of,” He replies back at him. In true Joseph fashion, his voice remains calm but his fingers nervously tap against the handle of his hammer. It helps that his hammer is stained and his skin is still tainted with old blood that doesn’t belong to him, but aside from his voice, Jo doesn’t exactly radiate confidence.

“Drop everything, move aside, and no one will get hurt.” Jo had no intention of taking any of the other boy’s things, but he wanted to make sure his hands would remain free of a weapon. “Do it, now!” Jo takes a step forward for the pure purpose of taunting him hoping the other will take a step back. 

The younger man before him definitely sounds more confident than Samuel feels. And he's more intimidating, considering the sure way he holds his hammer tinted in blood that can be anyone's - infected or not. It's all the more reason to not lower his own weapon, he can't be sure what'll happen once he unarms himself. It'll leave him open to be stripped of his supplies or worse case scenario, it gives the guy a chance to bludgeon Samuel's head in. He very much so does not want to look like the zombie he just ended. He really needs to get a gun of some sort...

Samuel feels the hairs on the back of his neck stand up at the increasing volume and demand in his voice. He has to be Samuel's age, no older. It's a shame the apocalypse manages to turn the youth into hardened killers. He's not one of them, but no amount of insisting will do. "W-what makes me think you're not gonna beat the shit out of me if I do?!" he snaps back, but he definitely doesn't look as fearless. "I-I don't mean any harm, but I can't-" Samuel's words cut off at the advancing step made toward him, and instinctively he steps back to keep that safe distance between them.

It's about then Samuel starts to cave, and he really starts to fear that he's pretty S.O.L. at this point. "If you'll just let me, I'll go, and I won't come back here. Please, I swear I don't want any trouble."

[samuelbennett-blog1]

desmcdres:

nayeli is no stranger to living in close quarters and functioning as part of a team and it’s not so different for lupe either. the girl was born and bred among relics and excavation sites. it has engendered a bravery in her that worries nayeli and it is hard to leave her alone. every time she kisses her little daughter goodbye, she knows it could be the last time she sees her alive and the thought of her being left with no real family … on some days it’s a bit too much to bear.

and yet she bears it anyway, forcing herself to go out and go toe-to-toe with the dead or more self-serving survivors. it’s better to go in pairs, but there are times when the weight of things is too much for nayeli to shoulder and she needs open space to work through whatever stuff she can’t work through back at home ( or what’s passing for home these days ).

unsure which part of the city is calling to her, nayeli lets fate choose her path. it’s not long before she recognizes the deliberate movement ahead of her as a living person and not just another mindless walker. picking up her pace, she keeps quiet–hoka sneakers padding softly against the crowd. thank god for poorly-looted rei stores. she almost calls out when the child shambles towards him, but the boy she now recognizes as sam from the library reacts before she can speak. the deafening thud feels like a punch to the gut as his bat makes contact with the head of the thing. there is no sight more sickening to nayeli; no fear is greater.

“it’s the kids that get me the most.” she clears her throat, emotion evident in her voice. “you okay, sam?” it’s not like she knows him–not really. a few weeks in camp isn’t much time to get to know a person and nayeli spends most of her time working or with her daughter. relationships are important and she knows it’s important to get to know her roommates. sometimes it’s just easier to stick to herself. getting to know people means risking losing them and, even in a perfect world, that is a hard enough task on its own.

Nayeli is a familiar face, and hearing her voice does plenty to calm him. He's only known her long enough to learn her name and that they're both scavengers, but she's a part of the same group as him. He has no reason to be apprehensive in any way. She's who he should be out here with, and he counts himself lucky that she happened to have the same path of exploration in mind. That way if another tiny undead comes crawling out he won't have to smash it's head in.

"Yeah... it's unsettling," Samuel agrees. To think fate could be so cruel as to do this to an innocent child - turn them into a mindless ravenous monster - it makes hope feel nonexistent. But Samuel can't say that out loud because hope is all some people have. There's no time for his cynicism. He exhales out a puff of air that blows a chunk of his bangs out of his dark colored eyes.

Gradually, he stands up and brushes the dirt off of his shirt and pants. There's still a slight tremble in his hands and knees, but it's fleeting. "I'm alright. Just fortunate that this is the only one..." For now. He bites down on the inside of his cheek at that thought. Hopefully this isn't the beginning to a slew of infected, he's not ready to have to run for his life. "I was - dumb. I wanted to look through the windows, see if there's anything I can see from the doors worth scavenging later in there. Didn't keep in mind that..." he motions to the little one on the ground. "There's probably more in there."

[samuelbennett-blog1]

honourmade:

What are you doingDaniel?

He’d like to say he was out here earning his place. He’dlike to say a lot of things, the god damn apocalypse tended to have that effecton people and he was no exception. Still…He’d branched off from the buddy system half way between one of the first checkpointsclaiming some big man excuse about working better on his own but realistically,he’d doubled back and around further towards the heart of the city.

A fool’s errand.

Some desperate need to prove himself? Maybe. That if he helpeda thousand people, he’d feel better about letting a couple hundred die backthere? Guilt was no stranger to him, he had more than enough to keep himrunning long after the canned beans ran out.

The mall was something of an odd choice to circle around to,he wasn’t stupid enough to think about going inside. He was neither a local or oneof the poor bastards that had been stranded her in the Christmas slaughter. New York had already gone under by then…

The parking lot isn’t deserted. He can see shapes betweenthe cars standing and staring upwards, ignorant of his approach if only becausehe doesn’t present enough of a meal by himself he supposed. Don’t get cocky and think you’re really justthat good. There were people trapped in the cars. Some…not entirely stillthere. He doesn’t want to look too closely at these ones, but his eyes aredrawn to them just the same. Wiping grime from one window or another to glimpseanother nightmare inside. But an awful lot of the vehicles were simply empty,doors left open and even a few of the closed ones were unlocked for him to pawthrough and slip some new treasure into the bag at his side.

It’s when he’s elbow deep in a truly horrible marooninterior that he hears something not quite normal… Standing up a little tooquickly he whacks his head on the steering wheel on his way out and a choicestring of expletives rolls off his tongue with shamefully practiced ease. Foul languageaside, he’s already on the move with a meaty thunk of metal on flesh the finalnote. Slowly he comes to a stop before the scene, rifle at the ready in glovedhands and looks down at the mess before him “The little ones are the worst…” hesays by way of greeting, sorrow evident in his lilt.

It takes far more willpower than he’s comfortable admittingto tear his gaze away from the remains of the infected to look at the personsprawled on the pavement at his feet “Are you…okay? It didn’t get you did it?Seen a few of them come out from under cars you know…prime ankle biting heighteven before they were infected.” He shifts uncomfortably at this, offering his handdown to the other as he casts a glance around “This isn’t a safe place to bealone.”

Unexpectedly, Samuel is not alone. It isn't just this corpse keeping him company, but this rifle-wielding stranger approaches. Samuel's head whips in his direction, dark eyes as wide as saucers, when he hears that voice. It's sad sounding, but the adrenaline in his body is making him feel like he has to choose fight or flight despite that. He holds his breath and opts out of either choice, nodding very slowly. There's not much a bat or running can do against a rifle anyhow.

Samuel's eyes follow than mans to the battered child, and he frowns deeply. It's not a happy moment, not many are in the end of it all. Fortunately for Samuel he's accompanied by a friendlier presence.

Thank God...

"That's a terrifying thought," Samuel chuckles weakly trying to find the humor in the statement. It's going to keep him away from cars here on out if it's definite that the smaller infected can hide under things. Samuel's seen them crawl so it makes sense, it's just a mass majority of them sprint and run where Samuel can see them. "But no, it didn't... b-bite me. I'm clean..." He hopes this doesn't turn into an interrogation to prove he's not bitten or anything. That might just lead to a bullet between his eyes. He's seen it happen a couple of times on the caravan from Nevada.

Samuel finally takes his hand to stand. There's an odd feeling that doesn't put him at ease. He chalks it up to his body getting over that sudden scare. "The world isn't a safe place to be alone," Samuel accidentally snarks, but he catches himself and quickly back pedals, ducking his head apologetically. "I m-mean, I know. I was going to... take a look in without actually going in... but I should've know it was stupid. I shouldn't have wandered here... It's, it was stupid of me." To distract from his slight embarassment, he tries to turn the topic on the man before him.

"You're... but you're alone. Or you're not?" he cautiously asks and looks about for any other signs of movement.