#fromfear

[asa--holland]

It's hard for Asa to think about how he's been treated better in this little makeshift town at the end of the world than he has in... well. Since he was, maybe 14? His life has been lonely and terrible and not worth talking about. Depressing. But he's found a home in the towering tomato plants and the grape vines, the old wood fences. "Oh... a meat pie." Asa might've been thinking about something a little bit sweeter. But he'll take whatever they give him. He's always been grateful. "Maybe with the newest apples we've got coming in, we can have a fruit pie. I never got to have an all-American apple pie, like they uh, talk about." He grins sheepishly at the other, nudging him with a shoulder. He didn't have many choices for food back at St. Irene's either, honestly. "Or southern cooking at all. I didn't even... um, I never really learned to cook, at all." He admits.

it was a wonder the pair of them understood each other at all, with those thick treacle-like accents dripping from their lips whenever they dared speak. striker’s mother, with hair redder than appalachian sunsets, had been irish herself. there was a part of him that had been inexplicably bound to asa since the beginning, a comfort that brought him back to nights with georgia cannon and his younger siblings. “you and me both. used t’ eat out of dumpsters on a good day.” was it abhorrent to think of post-apocalyptic life as a good thing? it was a thought left unshared as they moved towards the food hall with rumbling, rampant bellies. manual labour was no easy feat in those temperatures. striker’s whiskey-brown eyes glanced to the sky as they walked, the toes of his boots cracking against each other as he walked in pigeon-toed steps, “reckon some sort of random meat that nobody ain’t ever heard of. that’s the usual. animals comin’ out your ears, ‘round here. i never was a fan of deer stands myself.” beneath the rugged cowboy exterior was a true, compassionate heart.

[fairypuzzles]

closed starter for :: jasper !! @fromfear

"if the world wasn't the way it was, i'd be buying you roses every day as i return from work," linus hummed as the couple walked along the silent street, overgrown weeds everywhere, trying to find some wild flowers to fit in a bouquet. "at least bring one, every day. more if i'm feeling extra in love. which..." and he leaned in, kissing jasper's cheek like he had so many times before. "would be often, i'm sure."

[xfinch]

finch & fletcher

closed: @fromfear setting: the food hall

Generally, she found tall people to be scary- perhaps it was the fact that they loomed over her like an intimidating tree or one of those animatronic figures from ‘Party City’. The kind that started screaming at you at unexpected times even though they were only supposed to do so if you got close to them. She remembered when Rain’s family took her and Bishop to one when they were around nine years old. Having never been before, they were unprepared for the visit. Which is how Bishop ended up wrestling with one, knocking it clear to the ground before realizing it was not real.

Even sitting down, Finch could tell that Fletcher was tall. She stared at him for a moment before finally blurting out, “Were you always really tall growing up? Or did you just wake up one summer and you realized you were in danger of smacking your head on low ceilings if you didn’t watch out?” Realizing this might have sounded rude, she rushed to clarify the intent. “That sounds mean, I’m sorry.”

[lasthq]

⸻   STRIKER CANNON (JOHNNY KNOXVILLE) is looking for their BROTHERS. are they still out there? it’s said they’re 30-38 and are from TELLICO PLAINS, TENNESSEE.  they’ve been said to look like BOYD HOLBROOK, RYAN GOSLING, JACK LOWDEN, MICHAEL VLAMIS, MIKE FAIST, CASEY DEIDRICK, SCOTT EASTWOOD, ROBERT PATTINSON, RAY NICHOLSON, GARRETT HEDLUND OR ANY WHITE MALE. you do need to contact the writer. (@fromfear) 

( tw: mentions of abuse ) the three brothers have always been inseparable, bonded through the harsh treatment from their father following their mother’s abandonment of the family. instead striker is the father figure between the three of them, although he’s absolutely not one to take advice from. think shameless vibes when you’re picturing these siblings: they’re a trio of wild idiots with no inhibitions, getting into trouble and engaging in petty crime before the outbreak for no other reason than they just want to. they arrived to novac together and live in the same room, joined at the hip. they are cowboys by name and cowboys by nature, so i would appreciate if you could be in keeping with the other siblings by having a ‘traditional’ first name but going by a nickname. (e.g striker's birth name is stephen).

[rcvelations]

𝗳𝗼𝗿: @fromfear (jasper)

𝗹𝗼𝗰𝗮𝘁𝗶𝗼𝗻: the church

"i'm telling you i'm probably not gonna be any help." rafael frowned leafing through another set of papers, a dark grimace souring the turn of his mouth. he liked to help with everything. he at least thought he'd always been helpful around novac. it was rare what they had here, the kind of peace and freedom hand in hand. if he shut his eyes he could almost forget runners lurked just outside the rickety walls separating them and the rest of the world. "i'm looking for what you mentioned jas but i'd lose my head if it wasn't attached. i used to clip everything i owned to a carabiner before i went out."

[girlsagaiinstgod]

@fromfear — continued from x

joanna longs for the sort of love she sees in others, yet wherever she may find it, she always turns herself away. didn't have time for it before, and then now can't entertain the idea she deserves it. feeling she has failed the most important task, she deals her own consequences. self-sacrifice bordering upon abstinence has been her lot for at least two decades. natural as breathing, if not more so. sometimes, she forgets to breathe a few seconds, and ends up gasping like a man who is not waving, but drowning. a man who still wants you to believe they're waving. in the night she dreams of a kiss upon her forehead as she sleeps, so soft it makes her nose twitch. it never materialises, and the hope is always gone when she wakes up. hope, in general, usually is: these last weeks, she's been unsure just how much she's got left to hold out. she'd squeezed her way in at jfk international by the skin of her teeth. within days, the planes ground to a halt and the borders became death traps. people still tried to trek towards 'salvation,' of course, but ended up peppered. machine-gun magazines and blood, erupting into stale air. their parents hadn't read the permission letter well enough to tell her (or at all) and jasper's note never specified where in america he was going. smart. he'd have known joey would come after him, but underestimated her stubbornness. without her companion, she'd have been dead before she made it out of the north-east. her heart so often overrules her common sense. but without the woman she'd had at her side these ten years, joey would have given up before now, too. resigned herself to the hordes or to the waves in the face of impossible odds. gone out two or so years ago with one last hurrah of songs from the mp3, so she could say she'd at least done it her way. incredible how the more cynical of the pair ended up keeping the light alive, isn't it? an unfathomable tally of days racked up, etched in the inner front page of a notebook with a dying blue ballpoint. one thousand, two thousand, three thousand. the only constant was an unrelenting stare. no, we will get through this alive. if they're here to find, we'll find them. novac is the millionth stop on this all-American tour of apocalyptic despair. It's unremarkable. same missing posters with their dead faces. The superstitious murmur apologies for gazing into their eyes by mistake as they pass the tattered sheets hanging from the wire. not even the meagre festive offerings can lighten her mood. the coarse sand slips into the holes of the only shoes she owns, the ones that are too small for her anyway, pinching and rubbing at her feet. she swears under her breath. searches for the last drop of moisture in the flask attached to her carabiner. it's empty. figures. at the sound of a voice, she spins; very few people could know her here, and as she sees the lanky young man, she ages that little boy in her head. tries to piece him together. she remembers when kids would go missing in manchester, and years later, they'd plaster the aged-up composite guesses over tv and town alike. her voice comes out hoarse, tears stabbing at her eyes more than even the desert sun. ' jesus h. fuckin' christ — jasper, is that— ? '

[buriedunderneath]

special delivery for @fromfear (weston)

"I don't want to see another pack of tuna from you ever again, do you understand me, Wes?" The blonde served the bony boy that sat in front of her, sliding over left over snacks, some rabbit that she had made - anything that wasn't the tuna that he had packed himself. "You need to eat actual carbs - things that make you strong. Also, hydrate, you child. It's too hot to not drink water, and so I'm not taking no for an answer - so eat and drink. You don't want to get on my bad side." She half joked, winking as she sat down with him, taking a sip of her own water. "I'm waiting, Wes. Let's go. Munch, munch."

[orangepeelshortbreadcookies]

Narkina 5 might be the closest thing to a filler episode we have ao far on Andor. Nothing much happened. Mostly it was just people going places, socializing, working. Living Existing. And it was excellent. It was mainly vibes. And the vibes were utterly devastating.

I find the study of contrasts, as well as different interpretations of the word "game" fascinating as well as harrowing. Mostly in three stories paralleling each other: Cassian - Mon Mothma - Luthen & Saw Gerrera. They all play different games. Their circumstances and motives, however, can't be more different. Mon Mothma played to disguise her political movements; Luthen and Saw played (or chose not to play) for the ultimate victory over the Empire; Cassian and his inmates - basic survival. Everyone suffers under the hands of the Empire, however, those sufferings are in no way the same: Mon Mothma holding court over her lavish party, growing disdainful of her exotic food and expensive view; Luthen Rael still safely hidden, and Saw maintaining relative security and independence in his fortress, these two converse about the Rebellion like a bargain or a chess game. Meanwhile, Cassian gradually retreated fromfear to despair to dissociation in prison, where the highest reward you can have is a taste in your food, the right to trust the ground you walk on. They resulted to treat the slaving labor forced upon them like a game, to distract from the dehumanizing reality of their conditions. I love that the show doesn't shy from the fact that the worst effects of oppression would be on people like Cassian. Like Bix. Like Maarva. Mon Mothma, Luthen, and Saw are people with means, privileges, and thus safety nets. Cassian isn't. Mon, Luthen and Saw can trade, plot and scheme, partly because they're comfortable. People like Cassian are their pawns, have so much less, and thus set up to lose so much more, probably lose everything, for that eventual grand victory. They have to put faith in these maybe well-intended, but also very flawed, immensely wealthy, privileged people to do right by them, who half the time can't even agree with each other, who would use and discard them if needed, for the right to live in peace.

Because what other choice is there?

Fuck, it's so depressing. I love this show.

[amethystcove]

if i wake up any day this month of june and see an instagram notification from dream i think i'll quite possibly pass out fromfear and excitement

[the-firebird69]

and we see them the retards on the front line they fellso easily did not retreat stood thier ground.  felt it...deeply fear. there were tons there huge huge huge numbers so many we couldnot count...it was mind boggling how.  too many to control most faces stark white, like their blood shut off...inhumanly ghostly white matched thier white outfits.i got sick today fromseeing so many i say...sick and barfed. he ispowerful and gathers anoonillion an hour no many a minute it is a huge huge huge force tutaonic.  and they all barfed the front lines and it spread fromfear...tons blew chunks made it slipery, worse.  then saw it massive tanks so big you cant hide it with a cloak it was so hug the city was dwarfed they fle in too, set down with a thud buldings flattend too still a thud...amazing work he has done here in front of you undre our noses due to massively frequetn hostile attacks...massive numbers of attacks on his person, and we saw that itidot go dwn the smoking fool this isdogsthi and tards do it to die. they hate lifeand hand off o him.  he hates us but knows why we are like it.  konws.  it is mac and themesleves yes not you cork.  that is what he knows. andw e see why your weak. flattened half the area inthe city no half the city by alnding.  enough Gu shouted over the megphone enough.  and we did find that you know and cork ratted too.  ok.  he is an imcicile.  they flew in flattened it and cork held his ground fired off a hug evolley right into it and itbouncedoff,noshieldup and returned fire he choppper we here.  the city was gone.  and all the troops.  buried in rubbel.  andthen this OK all OUT silence then varoom ships left and tanks and bbabblam skulls hit giant ones and huge hugehgue ones....massive hits and the whole place caved in seconds  a fire storm no building let standing and no plae for cruise to go  so  as far as we can see...and we seeit he says no that may not hold true...we say it does there is nothing there... mac2 and we say this is our plannot yours.  and there is a city there..formed recenlty.  a newone,we hadheld newer buildings. of yours. too....and you seekit to see what it is.how itgot there and you did seeit. and tonsgo now to this odd city that appeared from nowhere...soon too they try to fly and drive.  no highway and we attack dc but ok.  and by ships tons of ships to seethislost city of ember Thor

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=iVusUjyby18

[bludhound-a]

even  now,   emotion  strains  maiya’s  posture.     settled  into  her  muscles:   something  the  girl  would  struggle  to  forget.     like  trying  to  steal  air  from  a  lung.     her  pace  slows  a  step  or  two  behind  maiya.     glassy-eyes;   her  skin  cools.     a  car  emptied,   shots  strewn  at  the  occupiers’  feet.     all  that  mina  could  dream:   the  back  of  their  head.     black-haired,   yet  thinner  than  maiya’s.     their  frayed  gait.     a  clenched  fist.     this  girl  breathes  in  whines.     her  eyes  harden  again.     ‘   it  hurts,   does  it?     you  should  remember  that  when  you  want  to  spar  again,   or  you  can  forget  and  get  another  scar.   ’     just  a  flinch  could  provoke  maiya.     too  eager:   her  undefended  flesh  earns  its  punishment.     pain  settles,   and  maiya  should  learn.     a  stray  hit  is  still  a  chosen  hit.     watch  your  blind  spots.     ‘   you  won’t  learn  until  you  remember.   ’     her  teammates  would  react  similarly,   when  she  would  taunt  them.     sculpt  their  anger  until  it’s  quiet.     it  would  click:   a  scope  attaching  to  a  gun.     and  then,   her  car  won’t  get  raided.     sacked  by  a  swarm  of  hungry  ex-soldiers.     mina  would  make  sure  of  that.     she  almost  grins.     a  wrinkle  doesn’t  form.     ‘   and  you’ll  thank  me  one  day,   when  you  can  win.     is  that  the  incentive  you’re  missing   –   you  think  you’d  never  win?   ’

she supposed she was glad of it, the fact that mina treated her not as a plaything but a true opponent. when maiya trained with others—iris, noé, finch—she was left with barely a scrape. now there was a rather nasty red welt where their sticks had whipped too rough. you’d be dead if you couldn’t. just like her family, buried in the grounds of the chapel, a headstone etched with the same date of expiry like a pallet of milk cartons. somehow, by some miracle, summaiya was still standing. “it’s not that.” she spoke begrudgingly as they transitioned to the hard concrete of the motel parking lot. once there would have been cars lining each painted bay, children clutching pool floaties, dads shouldering heavy bags, mothers clutching itineraries. “i want to be put through the ringer. i want to know what i’m up against. what i don’t need is you being self-indulgent when we’re trying to help each other.” they were set for a rather frosty night—new mexico temperatures were thick, dry, suffocating, and yet a chill would exist between mina and maiya until reluctant apologies were exchanged. if they were exchanged. “it’s no good to anyone.” especially no good to her, who would have to attend the farm come morning one arm short.

[fairypuzzles]

closed starter for @fromfear !!

"oh my god, i am so sorry!" sebastian says, covering his eyes as we hides behind the wall from the person currently trying to hurry to get into their clothes. "i didn't know someone was in here!"

[joshuaosato-blog]

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24th August 2020 Good morning Exhortation by Joshua Osatohanmwen Topic: Faith Is the Antidote for Fear Mark 4:35-41 And he said unto them, Why are ye so fearful? how is it that ye have no faith? Mark 4:40 Most people accept fear as a normal part of life, but Jesus rebuked His disciples for being afraid. He didn’t accept it as normal. Also, we know He would never reprove them for something beyond their control, so fear is a choice. We don’t have to be afraid, and Jesus told us how. We can overcome fear by having faith. We don’t need to be insensitive to those who are experiencing fear, nor do we need to be ashamed if we feel afraid. Since fear torments (1 John 4:18), we should have compassion on others- and ourselves. However, in our efforts to comfort, we don’t need to embrace and promote fear as normal. That’s not what Jesus did. The “normal” Christian today would have said to the disciples, “That’s okay, boys, I know just how you’re feeling.” But Jesus said, “What’s the matter with you? Why don’t you have any faith?” The difference between Jesus’ attitude toward fear and today’s average Christian’s attitude toward fear is why so many of us are living far below what Jesus sacrificed Himself to give us. He died so we could be delivered from fear of all evil, and that includes poverty, sickness, death, and even being lonely. To Him, anything but a happy and victorious Christian life is abnormal. He wants us to live free fromfear. Jesus made it clear that faith is the antidote to fear. Faith and fear cannot coexist. They are enemies and opposing forces. If faith is strong, it will cast out all fear. So we must always be building and strengthening our faith by reading and studying God’s Word. (Rom. 10:17.) Your faith in the goodness and faithfulness of God (Gal. 5:6) will overcome whatever you are afraid of today. https://www.instagram.com/p/CEQ_3inhDn5/?igshid=1ru71w9z78wtu

[lasthq]

⸻  FLETCHER LIU (LEWIS TAN) is looking for their YOUNGER SISTER. are they still out there? it’s said they’re 25-28 and are from BOULDER, COLORADO.  they’ve been said to look like JESSICA HENWICK, NATASHA LIU BORDIZZO, LOLA TUNG, LAUREN TSAI OR ANY CHINESE/WHITE FC. you DON’T need to contact the writer. (@fromfear)

fletcher and his sibling have always been close despite being polar opposites. they came to novac together, fletcher being stationed nearby at the beginning of the outbreak, and have spent the last five years cultivating and building the settlement from the ground up. his sibling is the only person he’s gentle towards, the only person he genuinely loves, although he’s always reluctant to admit it. other background information is totally utp, but please be conscious of chinese naming conventions.

[girlsagaiinstgod]

date: 25 december, 2022 for: @fromfear triggers: vague political mentions

joanna took home for granted; the world took home for granted. so long ago it was that she would only complain about turncoat parasites ( politicians ) — more fool her to expect the best from them — and the early evening drunken crowders clad in red or sky blue who'd pour down the streets from old trafford. ten or eleven years since she'd observed them with one eye, keen and disdainful, from the kitchen. the smell of warm pastry in the air, the consideration of meandering down to the chippy on her mind, before being dismissed when she remembered the inevitable queues.

ten or eleven years since she'd had her siblings in one room, one photo to show their parents all they'd missed out upon. one of them always blinking, or sneezing, or having a shirt button done up one hole too high so she'd have to fuss and fix it. it's all the more acute this time of year: jasper's birthday not too far gone, patrick's not too far ahead, with christmas layered in the middle. a sick pass-the-parcel game of guilt she'd played every day without exception since the former's note was found. slid under her bedroom door while she was out at lectures. it feels wrong to pause even for breath, when those she loves more than anything are askew on the four winds. ' well, i'm stopping here for christmas, ' as a new settlement comes into view, her companion makes her intentions known. the truck finally having sputtered to its death miles behind on the desert path, they've been walking. there are scarce opportunities for water. ' come with me or don't, but you do need the rest. you'll run yourself to death. ' crossing her arms over her chest, joey picks at the tiny hole in her left sleeve with pinched fingers. it's soaked: english girls are just not built for the new mexico sear. she pulls out a long red thread, and then another, twirling it around the finger. ' it'll be worth it if i fuckin' find them, won't it? '

the other woman holds no quarter, at least not until her tone lightens at the end of the sentence, daring to allow a smidge of mirth into her tone. warmth, if one searched for it. ' and if you don't because i have to bury you in a sand pit, smith? i'd prefer not to do that. it'd really ruin my christmas. '

joey snorts, more of a puff of air through her nose. ' alright, alright. i'm comin'. keep your pants on, would ya? '

[fairypuzzles]

closed starter for @fromfear (colt, any??) !!

"jesus christ, ever heard of knocking? i know we live in literal satan's hell but you could at least make sure a lady is decent," jo grabs the towel, or what used to be one and is now more of a rag, and wraps it around her body. "excuse me for keeping my hygiene, jesus."