MALAPROPOS

she should have seen that coming. the only person who would work up such a CHILDISH prank at this day & age was the man standing before her. the rifle lowered, hang over her shoulder again, before a hard smack landed to the back of his head. ‘ the fuck were you thinking ? i could have SHOT you   ——   ’

peril  is  little  more  than  a  game  to  him   ---   sure,   he’s  afraid  of  DYING  but  why  couldn’t  he  have  a  little  fun?   a  shrug  falls  off  his  shoulders,   followed  by  a  flinch  as  their  hand  makes  contact  with  his  head.   ❝   hey!   OW.   is  that  any  way  to  treat  someone  who  brought  you  lunch?   ❞

     ’     𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐍  𝐈'𝐋𝐋  𝐋𝐄𝐀𝐕𝐄.     ‘      she  replies,   but  it  is  spoken  warmly.   perhaps  as  much  as  a  hand  on  the  thigh,   or  when  she  grips  him  by  the  elbow  to  keep  him  close.     ‘     you  can  die  as  alone  and  pathetic  as  you  want,    ’     maybe  her  tone  is  deceiving  though;   maybe  this  sounds  softer,   more  of  a  jest  than  it  truly  is.    but  she  puts  her  hand  over  his  after  a  pat  regardless.   an  action  to  bring  her  words  to  a  fine  point.      ‘    and  i’ll  have  never  had  to  lift  a  finger.    ’     sidney  is  easy:    a  dirty,   thirsting  thing.     ‘     sound  alright?   ’

that  shuts  him  up.   a  pout  comes  to  his  lips,   lower  lip  jut  out.   he  is  alone   &   pathetic  enough  as  it  is   :   he  doesn’t  need  to  be  on  his  death  bed  for  that.   ❝   no,   doesn’t  sound  alright.   ❞   he’s a  possessive  man,   and  even  if  she’s  not  officially  HIS,   he  wants  her  in  life,   death,   and  beyond.   ❝   what  about,   uh,   my  body?   ❞   it’s  a  morbid  topic,   one  he’d  rather  avoid   ---   but  he’s  curious.   ❝   you’d  leave  me  to  rot?   ❞

@malapropcs — ‘ i’m scared of ending up alone ’

isabella let a short huff escape her nostrils at his confession ; truth be told, that was her worst nightmare, ever since she was a child, that she’d have no one, that she’d be alone and with how the world had turned to shit, there was an even higher probability than before. “ i believe, ” she started, huffing as she stood up, brushing her hands off on her thighs, “ that if we’re careful enough and if we keep the people we have close to us, we won’t end up alone … and then if we do, ” a small shrug of her shoulders, “ we’ll just have to get over it, i guess. not much more we can do. ”

a  moment  of  solemnity,   a  moment  of  weakness.   he  doesn’t  quite  meet  her  gaze,   instead  focuses  slate - blue  orbs  on  his  hands.   fingers  tangle  and  intertwine  in  themselves  and  he’s  silent  for  a  while   (   he  doesn’t  know  what  to  do  with  himself.   )   after  several  moments,   he  opens  his  mouth.   ❝   loneliness  kills,   you  know.   ❞   he  was  proof   ---   drinking  his  way  to  the  g r a v e.   ❝   and  if  it  doesn’t,   someone  will  come  along  and  stab  ya’  in  the  back.   ❞

                                 SIDNEY HALL : A PLAYLIST

                                                   stop   :   remember  to  breathe.

despite  this   (   frequent   )   reminder,   breath  still  hitches  in  his  throat.   it  was  her.   it  always  came  back  to  her.   the  way  the  moon  controlled  the  tides,   she  had  the  same  influence  over  him.   one,   two,   three   ...   lungs  begin  to  burn  and  he  inhales  out  of  self-preservation  only.   she  would  be  the  death  of  him,   he  swears  it.   slate - blue  eyes  raise  to  meet  hers  as  she  speaks  and  he  has  to  remind  himself  again   :   keep  breathing.   he  lifts  a  hand,   resting  it  against  her  thigh  as  he  begins  to  speak.   ❝   i  dun’  know  if  you  wanna  do  that.   i’m  a  lot  of  work.   ❞   he  chuckles  softly  and  sends  a  prayer  to  a  god  he  doesn’t  believe  in  that  she’ll  keep  him  anyway.

          ‘ fuck. shit. fuck – okay. ’ it’s a shitty situation to be in, and ‘viv thinks he knows it. crouched where he is behind the counter of the small gas station’s counter, the bodies of dead scavengers sitting just on the other side, he can hear the infected just outside. just one, he thinks. just the one. the door is broken, and that’s the only way out. it hasn’t seemed to notice them, not yet, and he’s just counting his lucky stars that it hasn’t seem them. the undead are practically blind, but if it catches one whiff of either of them, they’re fucked. he turns his head to look at his partner-in-crime, for now. ‘ just stay down. we’ll see if we can get the jump on it. ’ his voice remains low, hardly audible, not wanting to compromise their hiding spot.

❝   we’re  going  to  die.   ❞   panic  envelops  him,   any  sense  of  calm  he  had  long  gone.   ❝   we’re  gonna FUCKING  die!   ❞   he  tries  to  keep  his  voice  low,   but  it’s  not  working  all  too  well   ...   if  he’d  just  shut  up  for  once  they  might  be  okay.   features  fall  as  he  makes  a  sudden  realization   :   ❝   god!   and  i  never  even  got  that  threesome.   ❞  

she wasn’t particularly talkative. not anymore. which is why working as a scout was perfect for her. she spent most nights outside the camp & albeit knowing that it was dangerous at the outside, nakoma felt much safer being on her own. people made her anxious. she was just beginning to fall asleep, for the first time in days, when the sound of a small branch snapping caused her to jolt upright. with her hunting rifle in hand, the brunette took careful steps forward.

‘ who’s there ? show yourself !! ’

now  is  not  the  time  to  play  games,   not  the  time  to  find  humor  in  petty  pranks.   and  yet  here  he  is,   doing  just  that.   he  hides  in  a  bush  to  her  back  as  a  robot  dog  approaches  her  from  the  front,   woofing  softly  as  it  gets  closer.   he’s  quiet   ...   quiet   ...   quiet   ...   ❝   BOO!   ❞   he  jumps  out  from  behind,   arms  raised  and  fingers  spread  as  if  he’s  the  monster  from  under  the  bed.   ❝   did  i  get  ya’?   ❞

after a long draw off the deathly stale cigarette, dakota let out a soft exhale. it had to have been — months since he had even seen a pack. although it wasn’t the best, it reminded him of a simpler time. ‘ want one ?? can’t promise they taste good, but it feels good. ‘ he let out a quiet chuckle.

his  vices?   alcohol   &   love.   cigarettes,   however,   had  never  much  interested  him.   ❝   nah,   man.   ❞   he  waves  the  other  off.   ❝   keep  ‘em.   or  trade  ‘em,   ya’  might  be  able  to  get  somethin’  for  ‘em.   ❞   it  wasn’t  out  of  character,   but  to  find  the  only  hall  son  offering  HELPFUL  advice?   it  was  a  rarity. 

( ryan eggold + cismale + he/him ) — there’s a rumor running around about a survivor called SIDNEY HALL. they are said to be THIRTY-TWO years old, from MANHATTAN, NEW YORK, and have been labeled THE MALAPROPOS. fitting, considering that they are reported to be INTELLIGENT + MAGNANIMOUS, as well as INAPPROPRIATE + OBNOXIOUS. they reside in FISHERMAN’S WHARF and are a SENTINEL. apparently they are a BISEXUAL + CANCER.