fear//loathing

aspen dale | 22 | inventory

[meperosus]

quincy‌:

@meperosus

 He came to all at once, consciousness slamming into him while confusion chased close behind. His name was Quincy Dubois, he was no longer in a Floridian prison cell waiting for the chair. He was, however, restrained, his hands tied behind his back to a metal bar so tightly that the plastic dug into his wrists and his fingers tingled as he wiggled them. “Hey,” he called out to the person nearest him, he recalled her name being something tree-like but couldn’t pinpoint which one, “can ya loosen these?”

   SHE HUGS HER knees to her chest, sitting on the cold floor of the bunker and feeling the chill seep into her bones. Her eyes are puppy, red-rimmed, and she’s doing her best to keep her breathing steady ---overcompensating, perhaps, as she forces each in and out to last a few seconds. She pauses mid inhale, eyes flicking over the man who’s been tied up. She glances between him and Minerva, then raises a brow at him as if he must think she’s stupid. Her words might be misconstrued as harsh when she speaks, but her tone is so soft that they hold no real malice. 

      “. . . I think the fuck not.”

[lovescores]

liability || lorde

[thelovejournals]

The most frightening sound in the world is your own heart beating. No one likes to talk about that, but it is true. In the midst of deep fear, it’s a secret beast pounding a giant fist on some inner door, demanding to get in.

Jonathan Carroll  (via thelovejournals)

[meperosus]

faust:

@meperosus

A part of him was relieved to see Aspen in the bunker, too. At least it meant she was safe.

Safe from the horrors outside. The ones he’d brought here.

He found himself shrinking into himself even further, digging his fingers into his arms as if this would help ground him. It didn’t.

He watched as Aspen approached him and slowly, carefully, took a seat next to him- as if he were an animal she was trying not to spook. He stayed motionless and silent for a long moment. 

Eventually, he turned his palms- still stained with Perry’s blood- outward for Aspen to see.

“It’s my fault,” he said weakly.

   SHE HAS BEEN in a state of unconsolable anxiety since the news broke that the horde was coming. She had looked for the people she most hoped could make it to safety --Rooney, Faust, Phaedra and her kin, Gabe, Dorian... Only some of them were inside the bunker with her, now. Her mind continues to race with the thoughts of where they might be, what horrible situations they might be in at this very moment, while she sits in comparitive safety underground. 

   Sitting beside Faust, Aspen has found some strange form of comfort in her friend’s distress, as if forces her to pull herself together just for a while. When he turns his hands up to her, she frowns at them and takes them into her own. She cannot imagine what he’s gone through, what he’s still going through. All she can do is hold his hands, hide the blood there from his eyes, and hope. 

         “. . . I know you believe that, but I don’t.”

[meperosus]

dorian:

     It was a normal night of patrolling for Dorian, except with the wall being compromised, he now had a more rigorous rotation schedule. The air was cold, his breath fogging in front of him as he trodded between the houses; despite the way he marched, his footsteps were surprisingly light. 

     Dorian came around the front of house 101, seeing Aspen’s rigid posture, he spoke, “It’s just me,” his voice soft, not the usual rough tone he kept with most people. He rounded the porch, “Can’t sleep?” He asked, knowing full well that almost no one had been sleeping well if at all since the wall had been destroyed. 

     He sat down next to her, putting his arm over his shoulders and pulling her close to him. “I’m not going to ask you if you’re ok because I know you’re not.” He hummed, keeping his voice soft, “so, just let me be here for you.” The male continued, his fingers gently stroking her hair.

   SHE CAN PLACE his voice easily without being able to see him, despite the difference in tone, and she lets out the breath she’s been holding in. The next one is held too long anyway, but she feels a little more at ease now, putting a face --and a comforting one, at that-- to the footsteps. 

   Aspen only shakes her head in response. She doesn’t trust her voice to come out steadily enough, so she’s all the more grateful for his understanding of her state of mind. It makes her a little uneasy, knowing that she either looks awful enough for it to be so obvious, or that his skills of observation are so great that she can’t hide a thing from him. 

   When he sits, she wiggles in a little closer to him, tucking the flashlight into her pocket and --oh, right. The knife. She slides it out from her sleeve, knowing well enough that if something did come upon them, it wouldn’t do either of them any good to have it in her hands. She’s more likely to fall on it than hit a target. Holding the handle end out towards him without looking up, she finally speaks, simultaneously responding to his earlier question and explaining the weapon. 

         “---Anxiety. It’s bad lately.”

[meperosus]

faust‌:

“I know how you feel,” Faust considered her words quietly for a moment. Eventually, he reached for her hand and gave it a reassuring squeeze.

The gesture communicated a lot of things: this is our home now. This moment is real. We’re real, and we’re here, and we’re in the present.

“Not to sound cheesy or anything,” he said, watching his words frost in the air and break the quiet, “But you’re like…one of my best friends. We haven’t even known each other that long and we just- I mean, look at us. A thriving friendship despite everything,” he gave her a small smile, “I wouldn’t trade that for anything in the world.”

“I might trade it for some chocolate ice-cream, though,” he joked after a minute, “I think I’d sell my soul for some. God, I haven’t had in ages.”

   SHE LETS OUT a breath she’s been holding in for far too long, and breathes in through her nose, long and steady --a calming act, done very consciously. She’s had to learn how to maintain her anxiety levels as well as possible, now that she has no medication to aid in the process. Having people like Faust to keep her grounded, even with such a simple gesture as the squeeze of a hand, is more helpful than he’ll ever know. 

         “You’re good people, Fenter.” 

   She wipes at the corner of her eye, more out of precaution than necessity, and then lets out a barking laugh when he mentions chocolate pudding. 

         “You think we can figure out how to set up a pentagram?           Or a summoning circle, or something? ‘Cause I’m down           to sell my soul to have a clutch connection in this place.”

[meperosus]

cal‌:

He nodded his head side to side as if weighing the possibility that she was correct. He wasn’t the most limber or agile, he knew that. But he also didn’t expect to be pelted with a flashlight of all things. 

“You might be onto something there.. Good ol’ dad-bod, coming in handy with the extra padding.”

He joked as his hand patted his stomach a few times for effect. A hefty chuckle sounded from the pit of his throat at the ghost-tale-esque light that shown from below her. A smirk laying on his face at the mention of the boogieman. Oh, to be young and scared of non-existent monsters again…

“Boogieman is the least of my concerns at the moment. Though women with flashlights… Now that’s what really terrifies me.”

   SHE NODS IN agreement, as if her being right is the most obvious thing in the world at the moment. Though it won’t last long, surely, it’s awfully nice to be able to joke with someone, to not feel like she either has to show her emotions or hide them --instead, just pretend they don’t exist at all. She twirls the flashlight around between her fingers, passing from hand to hand absently as she listens to him speak. Then she held it up like it might have been the knife up her sleeve, miming a rapid stabbing motion in his general direction. 

         “You’re a wise man. Women with flashlights will inherit the earth.” 

   Aspen sighs out a laugh, and flips the flashlight up to attempt a catch. It lands in her lap instead, but as she speaks, she continues to flip until she’s able to land a solid catch. 

         “I suppose we’ll allow some men to join us. Dad-bods included.”

[meperosus]

phoebe‌:

“of course. sanctuary is the home of survivors, after all.” her smile turned benevolent. “but now that you are here, will the tactics you used to survive outside the wall keep you alive?”

   SHE THINKS FOR a moment, and then decides that this peculiar woman doesn’t need to know anything more about her. 

         “Sure. Maybe. Who knows... I guess we’ll find out.”

[meperosus]

cal:

Before he knew what hit him, literally, there was a sudden thrash against his stomach. A hard, metal object, he’d guessed by the weight and force that collided against him. The direct blow to his abdomen caused an unintentional groan to escape, more from the shock than the pain it’d caused, an expletive following shortly after. If it wasn’t for the voice that sounded, he would have thought this was some sort of attack. He bent down to grab what he now learned was a flashlight, quickly clicking the button to be sure it still worked.

“Yeah… real lucky. Your choice of weapon sucks, by the way.”

He approached closer, plopping himself onto the step next to her. Whether she’d made room for him or not, he didn’t care. After flipping the flashlight around in his hand twice, he offered it back to her. 

“Not officially… Couldn’t sleep.”

   SHE CAN’T HELP but laugh at his comment on her selected weapon, though it escapes her in a quick, quiet burst of breath. Really, it could just as easily be a scoff, especially considering that she doesn’t smile as she does it. 

         “Maybe your reflexes are just shit.” 

   She shrugs one shoulder, nonchalant as can be, but she gives him a look that conveys an apology when he joins her on the steps. She takes it back, then flips it around to point it up under her chin, the light turned on for a few brief seconds, casting a glow like she’s about to tell a scary story around a campfire. 

         “What, you scared of the boogieman or something?”

[meperosus]

faust‌:

The question took him by surprise. He opened and closed his mouth, unsure of what to say at first as he thought about it.

He decided to go with honesty.

“Probably not,” he sighed, “We lived in different parts of the world, and all. Even if…we’d gone to the same high school,” he paused to shrug, “I probably wouldn’t have had the courage to approach you. You’re like, so pretty, and I doubt you’d have given a theatre kid like me a second glance.”

He laughed softly, amused with himself. He probably wouldn’t have admitted that if he didn’t have dutch courage running through his system.

“On the other hand, you never know. We could have been best friends. We’re certainly getting along like a house on fire now, despite the circumstances.”

   HIS ANSWER SENDS a pang into her chest, and it falls down to her gut with a sinking feeling that all her worries about this place have been confirmed. Maybe none of them like each other, really. Maybe this is all just what they have to do to survive. If it’s all forced circumstances, how can any of it really, truly, be real? How can it matter? 

         “---What if it’s because of the circumstances?” 

   She shoves a hand into her hair, pulling it out of her face, and looks up at the sky for a while. She’s never considered herself a mean or judgmental person, but maybe... Maybe she would have been too caught up in her own group of friends to even notice him. Gut punch. Major gut punch. 

         “Like, I love you, dude... For making me feel like this place           could be a home, like I’m not totally out of place... It just feels           like none of this is quite right, you know? Like... nothing that’s           happened after everything changed is  r e a l.”

[meperosus]

phaedra‌:

       Phaedra wasn’t exactly sure when she’d fallen asleep, but when she woke there were stars in the sky and an odd peace that flooded her body when she saw the stars. It was just like when she was young and would sneak out of the house to stare up and try to count them all. Now she was walking with Lyndsey and pointing out the various constellations that had become easier to see since the world ended. It was odd that the two got to spend time together without Lynds’ younger sister, but both she and Phaedra had taken a nap that lasted longer than either was anticipating. She was in the middle of pointing out Orion when the younger girl drew her attention to a huddled mess on a nearby porch.

       Together they went to investigate, Phaedra approaching Aspen with an extreme caution. Crouching down next to her, she extended a hand to gently touch the girls shoulder. Lynds followed suit and crouched next to both of them. With her free hand, Phaedra continued to point out constellations, this time focusing on Cassiopeia. Offering a small smile to Aspen, she pointed again, hoping to draw her attention away from wherever the heck her mind had wandered off to.

              “Do you see it?”

   ASPEN WATCHES PHAEDRA and Lyndsey as they approach her, letting both hands sink into her lap as she curls into herself a little further. Her muscles tighten inititally, at the tough of the other, but she soon finds it more comforting than she could imagine, and after a moment, her eyes follow Phae’s hand up to the sky. She doesn’t think she can see whatever she’s pointing at, but it feels nice to focus on something else for a while. 

   Her hands are still gripping the tools in them tightly, but she returns the smile as much as she can --and she can’t help it, so she rolls her eyes, though there’s no mistaking the gesture is done good-naturedly this time. 

         “I-- don’t know... I just see a bunch of dots.”

[meperosus]

rooney‌:

Rooney flopped down into bed around one, exhausted and ready to sleep. But old habits die hard, and she certainly wasn’t going to sleep when she looked to see Aspen’s empty bed. It’d be different if she knew where her friend was, but she didn’t. Before everything went to shit, it was the same way. She could never fall asleep until Beanie was in bed. That was why, in the weeks after Beanie’s murder, she hardly slept. She knew where she was, but her body just couldn’t adjust. “Come on, Aspen.” She whispered to herself, eyes staring at the empty bed.

She waited a few more minutes, hoping that the door would just swing open and she’d come stumbling inside. Finally, when she couldn’t will herself to wait any longer, she jumped out of bed. Still wearing her warm pajamas, she slipped into a pair of walking boots- crossing her fingers that she wouldn’t need to go far. She padded down the hallway and found her way to the front porch. Where, lucky enough, she found her. Crouched on the stairs, wearing just her thermals. “Aspen,” Rooney called out softly to her. Rooney sat down next to her, looking out at the open ground around them. It wasn’t safe to be out like this, but she wanted to make Aspen was okay before suggesting they move inside. “I’m here.”

   IF IT WEREN’T for the sound of the doorlatch behind her, Aspen would have jumped out of her own skin at the sound of Rooney’s voice. Instead, she lets her grip loosen on the knife, but her breathing doesn’t steady much, and she doesn’t move to look at the other young woman she shares a room with. She must have noticed the empty bed, and come down to check. Aspen makes a mental note to leave physical notes, if she plans on being out late again. The wise choice is surely to not be out late at all, but Aspen has never, not once in her life, claimed to be wise. 

         “You should be asleep.” 

   Frantically, she wipes at her eyes with the back of her sleeve as a tear threatens to spill over. She is overwhelmed entirely, and the idea that someone here, in this place that is no longer a safe haven, gives half a flying shit where she might be makes her insides twist into knots. She can’t tell if it’s a good feeling. 

[meperosus]

gabe‌:

     Her positioning in front of him caught Gabe off guard, another blush coming to his cheeks as he realized her closeness, looking in the other direction in an attempt to avoid eye contact. He dug around in his pocket, fishing out another cigarette for no reason other than as a means of distraction. He placed the thing between his lips before lighting it, a soft laugh leaving his lips as she spoke. “Well, I’ll drink to that,” Gabriel replied with a chuckle, taking the bottle from her hand and taking yet another mouthful of the horrible alcohol into his mouth and swallowing hard.

    “Not that I really mind, but I think moving somewhere that isn’t freezing might be a nice idea.” He suggested, passing the bottle back to her and taking a long drag of his cigarette, passing the lit cancer stick over to her as well, figuring that he ought to share since she was as well. Gabriel pulled the hood of his jacket over his toque, hoping the extra layer might help him to stay a little bit warmer. Despite being a Canadian, he had never been one to enjoy winter or the cold. To him, the cold was just a better excuse to stay inside.

   THIS TIME, ASPEN can’t help but smirk when the flush comes to his cheeks. She think it’s sweet, in a  d o r k y  kind of way, but there’s nothing wrong with that. She manages to turn it into a friendly smile by the time his eyes are up again, and he’s lighting another smoke. When he hands her the booze and the cigarette almost all at once, she can’t decide which to engage with first, and so she takes a drag, and shoots back another mouthful of the moonshine before she exhales --aimed above them, so as to not send it directly into his face. To wash it down, she takes another, smaller sip. She’s done this before, and enjoys the amplified headrush it gives her, and sways a little further, back on her heels.

         “Are you dissing my choice of party locale?” 

   She puts the hand with the bottle in it to her chest, feigning offense, before handing the smoke back to him and putting the stopper in the bottle. She shoots a smirk his way, then shrugs, conceding. 

         “Alright, alright. I’ll let you choose this time, but it had better be dope.”

[meperosus]

dorian:

Keep reading

   HER EYES WIDEN a little when he flips them over, but he makes it seem easy. Pleasant surprise turns into a contented hum, and she locks eyes on him as his hand tightens on her throat --she’s not smiling, but her ever-expressive eyes reveal that she’s more than enjoying this. 

   She squeezes her legs tight against him as his thrusts become deeper, and his hand moves down to continue pleasing her. It’s almost too much, and she knows it won’t be long before she cums. Arms snake up over her head to grip at the pillow; back arches up into him; breaths come shorter and harder, punctuated every now and then with a near-desperate moan. 

         “Fuck, don’t stop.” 

   She lets her eyes close, and as he moves between her legs she feels her walls tighten around him, feels a trembling in her core. Her mouth falls open wider, hands moving to grip his shoulders and pull him closer, and a shaking moan forces its way from her lips as the overwhelming feeling of climax floods through her body.

[meperosus]

cal‌:

Cal’s plan to leave the Sanctuary undetected, and alone, was the main reason for his late night stroll. He was gathering supplies for his upcoming trek, but mostly, he was unable to sleep knowing that the walls had been compromised. He’d thought he would make a few rounds around the property, make sure none of the beasts from outside had made their way in. Having already made his way around the perimeter three times, he decided to make his way around the houses and infirmary. He’d figured everyone would have been inside the homes, too nervous to expose themselves to the dangers of the outdoors that now existed in their backyard. His footsteps trod lightly through the grass and dirt, a large bowie knife carried in his right hand in case of any intruders.

He wouldn’t have noticed the being on the porch if it hadn’t been for smoke signal composed of the person’s breath. Once he’d gotten close enough to the porch from the side, his voice sounded softly, in hopes to not alarm.

“You alright?”

   ASPEN CAN’T SEE very well in the dark --she’s meant to wear contacts, or glasses, but broke them long ago. The pair she’s found closest to her prescription are now tucked away in her bedside table, rarely worn for fear of bringing them to the same fate of the last pair. Her vision isn’t so bad that she can’t make out the face of someone approaching her, or read a road sign, but that’s in daylight. Here in the dark, she squints in the direction she thinks the footsteps are coming from, as if that might help her see better. When a voice speaks up, it comes quietly, but still she starts in surprise. She’s paranoid, ill at ease, and she launches the flashlight at the man with a squeal before she has the chance to process what he’s said. It’s an aimless throw, but it turns out to shoot towards his midriff.  

         “---Jesus fuck, dude. You’re lucky I have horrible aim,           or that could have went straight to the money maker.” 

   She does not clarify wether she means genitals, or face. Either makes sense, to her. She lets her head fall into her hands, careful of the knife shoved in her sleeve as she does so. A heavy sigh falls from her lips, the breath shaken. After a moment, and without moving her head, she flicks her eyes up to him. 

         “You on patrol, or something?”

[meperosus]

open. late night: house 101, porch.

   SHE HAS NOT yet slept, and if she has to guess, she would say it’s nearing two in the morning, if not already past then. She’s crouched on the stairs, wearing her thermals as pajamas, wrapped up in an oversized winter coat. She’s shaking, though not due to the cold; Aspen has been on the verge of panic for an innumerable amount of minutes, by now. Maybe it’s been an entire day --ever since the wall fell through. She hid away at the first chance she had, and now she’s paranoid as she sits outside, exposing herself to unnecessary risk for reasons unknown to her.        ---Perhaps she’s punishing herself for being a  c o w a r d  when it counted. 

   She has a knife (literally) up her sleeve, gloved hand wrapped around its handle, just in case. Her grip around it tightens, knuckles going white, when she hears footsteps. Her other hand holds a flashlight, though she’s hesitant to shine it and draw extra attention to herself. Her brow furrows, throat tightening as she looks around, unable to place where the noise has come from. 

[meperosus]

dorian:

Keep reading

   HER BODY RESPONDS to him like second nature, from the rise and fall of her hips; the change in pace of her breathing; the moans that slip past her lips as she feels him thrusting into her. She lets her head roll back when he grips her hair, a content sigh that borders on playful laughter, the only response she gives to his words. 

   Then she leans back, pushing herself upright on top of him. One hand rests on his chest, keeping herself upright while pinning him to the mattress --as much as she can. Her eyes open and lock on his, and she takes over the bucking of her hips back and forth over his cock, riding him with the confidence of someone who knows what she’s doing. Her narrowed eyes and the curl of her lips invite, or maybe dare him to take things up another notch.