#because I have someone who is the same age as pratt and the deputy in mind

[seedofjoseph]

It's all good! I was just wondering if you were willing to do a Jacob/male reader who gets unalived somehow by the deputy (maybe saving him/taking a bullet for him) and Jacob just goes full on feral and slowly stops listening to Joseph

I'm glad you've picked that old man for me to play with because he was my first pick, too.

I can't promise you it'll go up today, or even tomorrow, but it will be by the end of next week.

[lulu2992]

Hi! I had a question. In multiple audios and even in game, there’s a pattern that John is fixated on pain and even women’s pain (Joey, Mary May, and the young woman he mentioned in the collapse that he killed after a night out because of anger) and even he was being a big creep when Mary May saw him for the first time (she was 16-17 wasn’t she), “eyeing her like a piece of meat”. If you can believe the ages given to us, he’s clearly much older than Mary May, and the cults been there for 9-10 years, she’d have to be minor.

My question is, why do you think the fandom and people dismiss his violent urges toward women and he was fixated on minor but still demonize Joseph when John was clearly unhinged on his own?

Sorry if its all wordy and all over the place, I just love your takes and respect your thoughts!

Hi! And thank you very much for your appreciation :)

We know John has a fixation with pain because of the “freeing” experience he explains he had when he was young, and he hurts people for this reason, but I really don’t think he enjoys inflicting it on women specifically. It’s probably a coincidence that Hudson is a woman and was sent to him instead of Jacob or Faith. The game never suggests that he would have treated Pratt or Burke differently if they had been placed in his “care” instead.

Someone in Far Cry 5 says John is “obsessed with the people in Fall’s End, and with Mary May in particular”, but nothing clearly indicates it’s because she’s a woman. The way I see it, it’s because the Resistance is strong in Fall’s End and Mary May is one of its “three biggest pillars”, as John himself wrote. Evidence shows he’s also “obsessed” with Jerome and Nick for the same reason: they keep resisting and fighting back. Mary May is stubborn, refuses to sell her business to Eden’s Gate, continues to serve alcohol, and essentially keeps saying “no” to John, so I think that explains why he has taken an interest in her. By the way, during the Deputy’s Atonement, even though Mary May is there, John mostly focuses on hurting Nick and Jerome instead, so it doesn’t look like he prefers torturing women to me.

And we’re not sure how old Mary May is, actually. The only official age we have for her is revealed in Far Cry Absolution: 30 years old. I know the Wiki says she was born in 1993 (so 25 years old in 2018) but I think that sounds young… For what it’s worth, Tasya Teles, who played Mary May in Far Cry 5, was born in 1985. And in the novel, John is said to be about 40, which makes much more sense, mathematically speaking, than his age on the Wiki (32 years old). When the Deputy arrives in Hope County, Eden’s Gate has been there for at least 9 years (since August 2009), so if John visited the Spread Eagle in 2009 and the age provided in Absolution is accurate, Mary May was about 21 at the time.

As for the woman John supposedly murdered before Joseph found him… like every new piece of information “revealed” in the Far Cry 6 Season Pass, I think it should be taken with a huge grain of salt. The incident was never mentioned anywhere else before, and while there’s no denying that John is capable of violence and murder, I don’t think him losing control and killing someone while he was working as a lawyer makes sense. According to The Book of Joseph, John Duncan’s anger was strong but it was also “suppressed”, so I doubt he would have physically assaulted anyone at that time. He was “full of rage” but apparently never let it out when he was still “society’s very model of success”.

So I don’t think the fandom ignores that John enjoys making women suffer, thought 16-year-old Mary May looked sexy, and murdered one of his lovers out of anger because these “facts” are all conjectures in the first place! If many people never mention those things about him, I think it’s simply because they know they’re not really canon and mostly come from the fan-created Wiki (which was also used as a source of information by Collapse’s writers). It’s undeniably canon that John is violent and obsessed with pain, but it’s not that he likes to inflict it on women specifically or that he committed murder as John Duncan, and Mary May being only 25 was never officially confirmed, either…

It’s true, however, that people tend to demonize Joseph more than his siblings and blame him for the bad things they do. He’s not innocent, of course, but John, Jacob, and Faith already had a lot of personal issues before they became his Heralds, and I disagree with those who say that they would have been better off without him. Things would have been different, yes, and maybe the cult wouldn’t have existed, but I don’t think their lives would have been better. In my opinion, they would all just have died sooner (and in poorer mental health)… In John’s case, considering he was on a self-destructive path and desperately trying to fill the void inside him, I believe he would have let “John Duncan” consume him completely and ended up drowning in his excesses.

So I agree with you when you say that John already was “unhinged on his own”, in a way, and that Joseph is often blamed for everything, even what he didn’t do. However, I wouldn’t say that the fandom dismisses the other things you mentioned because they’re not facts, just fan theories and interpretations not everybody likes or agrees with.

[heartofsnark]

This is Love (Chapter Eight): Whispers of Wolves

Notes: Heyo, since A) I took a break and B) it’s friday the thirteenth, as it was when I posted the first chapter of this is love back in January, I decided to go ahead and post chapter 8 today. Chapter 9 is already done and I’ll be beginning work on chapter 10 soon, as this is my current hyper fixation. I hope you all enjoy. 

Word Count: 8671

Chapter Warnings: Oh boy we got some shit today my dudes! Stories/Reference of Past Child Abuse, Animal Death In the Context of Hunting, Homphobic Slurs/Homphobia towards lesbians, and referenced past anti-Semitism. Less important but there’s a pov change and like three different quotes in this chapter, from the Book of Joseph, and two different songs, which is probably a lot but I ain’t editing this shit anymore

For chapter one and the warnings about this fic’s overarching themes, please click here!

For the previous chapter; click here

Pain cracks through Joseph’s skull late that night, shooting across from each temple, seeming to split his head apart. He sits on the edge of his small bed, a modest bedroom in the back of his church. He knows what it means, he’s grown accustomed to the sharp ringing pain, visions always come with it. They’ve started to come more frequently since The Lamb arrived.

He grabs at his head, as if he could press hard enough to keep his skull together as pain racks him, an instinctual reaction. Pain strikes through and breaks the reality of the world around him, closed eyes starting to see visions of what could be, images of what may await him.

A world anew surrounds him; one changed by the Collapse and washed of sins. Lush and natural, even more beautiful than the world that came before it. Vibrant pink flowers decorate the earth, thick green moss covering trees. A soft pink flowered apple tree stands at the center of the compound, white buildings replaced with hand made little houses.

Men and women are all around, working around New Eden. Parents playing with their children, carrying their babies; loyal followers allowed to pass through the gates and grow their family. Some members bring back hunted animals to be prepared for meals and others tending to gardens.

And then he sees his brothers and sister.

A fact that changes time and time again as his visions come to him in waves. He’s seen New Eden with and without them. He’s seen each of his siblings die time and time again, old and young, premonitions of what will be or what could be.

In this version, this vision, he’s been allowed his siblings. Faith, Jacob, and John talk at a distance where Joseph can’t quite hear the words, only taken in the moment. Jacob and John’s ages showing more clearly in the gray just starting to pepper their hair.

A voice rises above all others, cutting through the mumbled conversation through the compound, and Joseph knows it’s calling towards him. The soft voice calls him a name similar in meaning to his title, but it cuts to his heart so differently.

“Papa!”

Through the eyes of his older self, he can only watch and take in what happens, no control as he turns to see the source.  A young boy of about five comes running towards Joseph, bright blue eyes and an even brighter smile. Joseph’s body moves of it’s own volition reaching out to hug his son, his son, but before he can feel the embrace of his child the world cracks apart again.

Pain splinters through the world and rips him from the moment, when he opens his eyes again he’s back in his room. And his hands itch to hold his son who’s yet to exist, instead he rubs at his temples, fingers knotting in his own hair as he attempts to soothe the agony within his own head. The only respite being what he hopes is a new promise from his creator. A chance for his family to not only walk with him to New Eden, but the chance to expand it.

He’ll have a son. The very idea soothes his pain and is like a salve to frayed nerves. Becoming an internal mantra as he eases himself back to sleep that night.

 Sweat coats Dahlia’s skin as she does another push up, her muscles aching at the workout. She shifts to lay on her back on the living room floor, t-shirt riding up her sweaty stomach. Her second day of no work has turned into an impromptu work out, push up and using doorways for chin-ups. She uses her shirt to wipe sweat off her forehead before grabbing her phone to check the time. Dahlia must have gotten her way through the day, it has to be late by now.

“Fucking hell.”

It’s noon, it’s only fucking noon.

“Ahhhhhhhhhh!” She screams into a pillow, how the fuck is it only noon? Dahlia looks at the mess of her coffee table, trying to consider what to do just to eat at her time, she could draw again. But her hand is still cramping. She read somewhere you’re suppose to do warm up for drawing, she’ll have to start doing that.

Then she sees the Book of Joseph, her drawing still sticking out of it. She’s burned through her backlog of manga on her phone and fuck, it’s something to do. Joseph seemed like a genuinely sweet man, maybe he has something interesting to say.  Music still blasting, because everything in her life requires a soundtrack, she opens the book.

 “Bless the name of those who have dealt you blows.

Be grateful to those who have caused you harm.

For it is these sufferings that have led you to me.”

 The first sermon in the book, she chews her lip, it’s not that much different from things Joseph told her yesterday, that he’s thankful her past led her to him. But, something rubs her wrong about the idea of being grateful for her abuse. Not for her, she plans on dying mad about it. She reads onward, an illustration of a flaming capital building surrounded by waves with someone drowning in the foreground. That’s…dramatic.

“If a person had been walking down the poorly maintained road out front of the Seed’s house on that afternoon in June and felt the strange urge to glance over, they would have witnessed a bizarre sight.

They would have seen a man dress in black pants and a white undershirt, frothing with anger, brandishing a comic book in one hand and a bible in the other at his son, a child of about ten. But no one had been down this in the poor suburb of Rome, Georgia, in a long time. Not ice cream trucks, not social service cars, not even police patrols.”

Dahlia stops almost three pages in as Joseph begins to write about a dying widow who once gave him and Jacob cakes before she grew sick. The picture he’s painted is far too clear and hits too close to home for her to continue, at least for the moment. A belligerent bible thumping drunk of a father who derided Joseph for loving Spiderman comics and beat Jacob’s back for the younger brother’s supposed misgivings.

Father Monroe, her stepfather, wasn’t quite the ruddy faced sloppy drunk that Old Man Seed was. But when Joseph describes Jacob offering his back up for a beating, she nearly feels the bite of leather against her own. Stripes for the backs of fools, is all she hears.

She wants to talk to Joseph, she realizes, thinking of both the beginning sermon passage and how their own pasts match up. Does he really bless the man who hurt him? Is he grateful for Old Man Seed? Maybe that kind of forgiveness and peace with it comes with age or is it just him? Ruth has a similar story as well, a little older than Dahlia, and she holds on to the same anger Dahlia does. Has Joseph managed to let it go? Does he still like Spiderman? Did his father beat the passion for comic books out of him or does he still enjoy them? Its hard to imagine, the intense Joseph Seed casually reading a comic book.

Less than three pages is a pathetic excuse for reading and didn’t pass much time, but it’s intense for her. So, she’d rather just…stare at the wall for a bit until she’s ready to tackle it again.

It’s Saturday night, Pratt and Hudson won’t be going to The Spread Eagle tonight, because no work. Meaning a rather mundane day with no interruptions. Other than a short walk, Dahlia spends the rest of it fucking around on her phone and watching shitty tv; passing out after downing an unevenly heated microwave meal.

Sunday morning rolls around, spent much like the last, Dahlia using her down time and excess energy to work out. It’s important to stay on top of exercising and staying in shape, given her profession, she makes a mental note to order some weights online. There’s not really a proper gym in the county and she doesn’t want to lose muscle.

She’s in the middle of another round of pushups when there’s a knock at her door; she jumps up from her position, skin still slick with sweat as she rushes towards the door. Finally, something to disrupt the monotony.

It’s Pratt standing on her porch, hazel eyes looking her over. She’s expecting a shitty comment on her appearance, dressed in shorts and a baggy shirt, hair mussed with sweat.

“You need something?” She asks him, slightly out of breath. Dahlia lifts the bottom of her shirt, using it to wipe sweat from her face, breeze skimming the bare skin of her stomach.

“What the hell has you sweating, Rook?” The older deputy chews his lip, avoiding eye contact for a moment.

“I was working out.”

“With a head injury? Seriously?”

“The fuck else am I suppose to do?”

“Figured you’d be bored out of your mind, reason I’m here,” he grins, “throw some clothes on and we can head out.”

“You mind if I shower first?” She asks, while she’s not sure where he plans on dragging her but she’d rather not stink like sweat while she’s there.

“Uh, yeah, sure that’s fine.”

“You wanna wait in here?”

He nods and Dahlia steps aside to let Pratt into her trailer, it’s not the most tidy of place because, well, she’s not the most tidy of people. She can feel the judgement starting to build up as Pratt looks around her messy living room. A pillow and blanket haphazardly on the couch; her duffle bag on the ground with clothes falling out of it. Her table has her sketchbook, thankfully closed, and the Book of Joseph is tucked under it. It’s a messy little nest, but it’s hers.

“Are you sleeping on your couch?”

“Uh, yeah, it’s just, I prefer it,” she explains with a shrug, not really sure how to elaborate on her weird feeling about sleeping in a bed.

“You have a bed, right?”

“Yes, I have a bed, I just, shut up. I don’t barge into your house and start judging how you live,” she pinches the bridge of her nose, “just sit down, I’ll be back in a minute.”

Dahlia grabs a change of clothes, hearing the couch springs creak as Pratt sits down. It’s weird seeing someone in her trailer. The closest she’s had to visitors have stayed on her porch. Pratt is the first person to be in her actual trailer, he looks immensely out of place and judging by his eyes glancing around, he seems to feel that way too. She tries not to think too hard about it, making a beeline to her bathroom.

She tries to keep her shower short, not wanting to make Pratt wait too long and not wanting him to snoop while he’s left alone. That doesn’t stop her from playing music as she showers, just limiting herself to two songs before she jumps out. A quick dry off and she tugs on her clothes, towel still on her damp hair as she walks back out to her living room.

Pratt, sure enough, has found something to snoop through. Dahlia grimaces at the sight of him picking through her little jewelry box of photos. Was he rifling through her dufflebag? She clears her throat, smirking when he jumps up.

“I was just-”

“Snooping,” she cuts him off, ruffling the towel over her hair.

“It fell out of your bag.”

“No it didn’t.”

“It did...after I kicked it a little, but it did fall out.”

“You’re ridiculous,” she snatches the little wooden box off the table, Lloyd and Caroline’s photo booklet was on top, so at least she probably avoided him seeing baby photos.

“You, uh, don’t look much like your parents. You adopted or something?”

She can’t help but chuckle as she puts it away; she can’t blame him for thinking Lloyd and Caroline must be her parents. The pair are both about Whitehorse’s age and why else would she have so many photos with a couple that age. But, the couple absolutely look nothing like her. Both fairer skinned and blue eyed; Lloyd with dark strawberry blonde hair and Caroline with light honey blonde locks. Short of some shenanigans the chance of them producing an olive skinned, brown eyed brunette is slim. And while the couple have their share of adopted children; Dahlia isn’t one of them.

“No.”

“Oh, uh…” She can nearly see the gears turning in Pratt’s head,  her usual one word style of answering has put Caroline’s devotion in question and Dahlia won’t have that.

“They’re not my parents; legally or biologically.”

“Oh, you just hang out with old couples?”

“Maybe, maybe not, ain’t really any of your business,” she shrugs, “more importantly, where the hell are we supposed to be going?”

“It’s a surprise.”

“I don’t trust your surprises.”

“Would you rather sit here and twiddle your thumbs all day?”

“Fuck  no.”

“That’s what I thought, you ready to go then?”

“Yeah, yeah,” she throws the damp towel onto her laundry chair before shoving her feet into her boots, “lets get going.”

She locks up behind Pratt then follows him out to his car. Compared to the last time she was in his car, this is infinitely more relaxing. She hums along to the radio, resisting the urge to sing along. He probably already heard her yelling along to her music in the shower, she doesn’t need to blast his eardrums at close range. After one song ends and another shittier one begins she starts to fiddle with the radio setting.

“The driver is supposed to pick the music,” Pratt tells her as she flips through stations, trying to find a station playing something other than country.

“The driver needs to worry about the road, while I find something worth listening to.”

“Yeah, ‘cause your taste in music is so good.”

“I have excellent taste in music,” she turns to one station and it sounds like a choir.

Help me, Faith

Help me, Faith

Shield me from sorrow

From fear of tomorrow

“Turn that crap off, right now.”

“The hell is that?” It’s not a bad song like technically speaking, but it’s definitely a bit much.

“Peggie station, it's all crap, Eden’s Gate runs it. It’s all their choir music and sermons.”

“Gross, but the song ain’t that bad.”

“You might wanna have your head checked again.”

“Piss off.”

She finds something better, even if she doesn’t necessarily mind Eden’s Gate music, she’d rather listen to something without fear of a sermon coming up after. At the very least, Pratt doesn’t complain about her choice, a few more songs playing before they cross into Holland Valley.

“How’s your impromptu vacation been going?”

“Boring.”

“That’s what I thought,” he laughs, “figured you’d be going stir crazy by now.”

“So, you decided to come end my boredom?”

“No need to sound so excited,” Pratt rolls his eyes, not appreciating her lackluster response.

“Sorry, I, uh, do appreciate it,” she admits, looking out the windows, cheeks warming at it. It’s embarrassing to say that she is genuinely thankful. Hell she nearly jumped up and ran to the door like a dog when he knocked. Boredom is hell.

“Oh, it’s fine, I was bored too.”

They pull into the police station parking lot and she raises an eyebrow at him as he parks. He’s taken her to work? What on earth is he planning?

“Don’t look at me like that, you’re gonna enjoy this, c’mon.”

She follows him out and around the building to the helipad she noticed before, a black police grade helicopter on it.  He doesn’t hesitate to climb into the pilot's seat, telling her to get in. She listens, climbing into the seat next to him. It looks like a mess of buttons and controls to her, none of them making sense. But Pratt confidently starts turning switches, lights coming to life in front of her.  They’re going for a helicopter ride, holy shit.

“Pffft,” Pratt huffs out a laugh, “we’re not even in the air yet and you’re already grinning.”

“This is okay, right? Like, no one will mind.”

“I’m the only person at the station who can fly, so if they needed it, they’d be calling me anyway. Don’t worry.”

“I’m fine, I just wanted to know I can enjoy this guilt free.”

“And lift off,” Pratt says as he brings the chopper up off of the ground. The station grows smaller and smaller as they ascend up into the air.

“Wow…” Is all as can seem to say at first as the chopper kisses the sky.

They’re surrounded by a bright blue sky and puffy white clouds as Pratt flies across the county. Lush green forests and farms beneath them, mountains along the edges of the county. A top down view of animals running through, specks in their vision. She oohs and awes, unable to help acting like an excited child over the view. They fly along the county, Pratt is kind enough to answer her stupid questions about flying, what buttons and switches mean. She’s certain to a seasoned pilot her naïve question must be frustrating, but he grins with every answer. Before she knows it the sky around them has shifted to an awash of pinks and purples, the sun setting, before a midnight sky takes it place. Brilliant stars twinkling around them, feeling so close, like she could reach out and touch Andromeda.

Once it gets too late, Pratt lands back at the station, her cheeks ache from all the time smiling. He drives her back to the trailer park, the pair in comfortable silence as she hums along to the radio.  Her thoughts drifting off as they are so quick to do. Pratt and her butted heads a bit when they first met, but he’s quickly become her closest friend in the county. Their light-hearted bickering and shenanigans have become her favorite part of her days in Hope County.

He walks with her to her trailer, shoulders brushing occasionally as they move. She turns to look at him when they reach her door. Dahlia clenches and unclenches her hands searching for what she wants to say.

“Thanks, a lot, really.”

“You like flying that much?”

“Not just for that, not to be all mushy and crap, but coming out here, keeping me from going nuts, being my friend. It, uh, means a lot, seriously.”

“Eh,” he scratches at the back of his neck, avoiding her eyes, “just watching out for you, probie.”

“Well, I appreciate it, I, uh, know I’m not the easiest person to get along with.”

“No one in this county is.”

“Good to know I fit in, I guess.”

“Uhh, you’re getting there, once you start stinking like beer all day and have a house full of deer heads, we’ll call it good.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” she grins, “night.”

“Night.” She waves Pratt off before going back to her trailer to settle in for the night.

Monday is spent showing up to the station just to play with Petunia behind the building; just laying on the ground while the fluffy opossum crawls on her. She scratches along the marsupial’s back as they nuzzle into her neck.

“Aren’t you supposed to be home relaxing or something?” Beau asks and Dahlia shifts her head back to look at him.

“I am relaxing, what are you doing?”

“Well, everyone asked me to go see what that weirdo deputy was doing, so here I am.”

“Oh no, you hear that Petunia,” she looks at her opossum friend, “people think I’m weird.”

“Yeah, talk to the ‘possum, that’ll really show ‘em.”

She sticks her tongue out at him and he just rolls his eyes, leaving her alone for the moment. Pratt and Hudson invite her out to The Spread Eagle once the sun starts to set, but a steady throbbing ache has built in her head, she skipped pain meds. And the idea of the jukebox booming in her skull makes her turn it down for the night, once she’s back to work she’ll treat them to a meal there, she decides on the quiet ride home.

Dahlia wakes up the next day and decides to finally take that hike, wanting to explore some of the mountains and woods that surround the county. The brunt of the trails seem to be within the Whitetail Mountain area up north, the mountains in the Henbane are mostly around that statue and as much as she likes Joseph more than before; the statue is still creepy.

She tucks her sketchpad, pencils, water, and her pain meds in the storage under her motorcycle seat before she drives up to the mountains; the north section of the county is colder, a chill from the air as she rides up. She stops in at an Old Sun Outfitters, buying a little black backpack to carry her stuff in when she hikes.

The woods around her get thicker and thicker as rides further into the mountains, land growing steeper with every minute, civilization sparser and sparser; buildings harder to find, just peeks of wood or cement through trees. The trees clear on her right as a turn of the road leads her to a large parking lot with little hutch and a sign that says, ‘rest area’. The hutch says Valley View Overlook. It’s built at the top of a plateaued piece of land, not as towering as the mountains in the distance, but higher than the meager hills of the valley or river. She parks her motorcycle and packs the bag before taking in the view.

A small navel high fence, she imagines waist high for others, keep animals or children from just running off the side of the mountain. It’s a beautiful sight; she can see why the lot is named after it. She takes a deep breath of fresh mountain air looking out at the soft blue sky that meets the mountains in the horizon; the deep green forests further down. Air so clean and refreshing, but for some reason she finds herself pulling out a cigarette, to fill her lungs with smoke. Too much good needs a bad, she supposes. She watches the white clouds and birds flying through, as she lets smoke settle heavy in her lungs, only parting from the sight when her cigarette threatens to burn her fingers.

She follows along a little beaten trail through the woods, kicking up rocks and crushing grass underfoot as she lets the trees surround her. Grass rustles around where animals sneak through; deer running through, other hikers crossing her path, and hunters packing bucks back home with dogs sniffing along after them.

It doesn’t take long for her to go off the path, just walking in any direction that catches her interest. Deeper and deeper into the woods, following divots and drop offs, walking along the occasional stream of water that passes through the area.  Her feet and head start to ache as hours pass, the cool air no longer able to chill her body as exertion coats her skin in sweat.

A hunting stand, one of many, is within the woods. Gray metal built around a tree with a ladder leading up. It’s empty, but if a hunter really needs it, she’ll move along. She climbs up curling her legs under her on the stand as she pulls off her back pack and red flannel, the sleeves now sweaty after her walk. Dahlia ties it around her waist, feeling the cool air on her skin as she takes a deep breath.

She takes a deep swig of water and one of the pain killers. There’s a crush of grass and she looks up to see a group of deer a short distance from the stand. A fawn and what may be younger deer, with a buck among them. The buck’s fur grayer in color than the richer warmer brown of the others. Dahlia gets out her sketchpad and pencils, balancing them on her knee as she takes the drawing the creatures. A calm energy and flow falls over her as she draws, the only sound the animals rustling within the woods. She’s better at drawing people than animals, she realizes, when she can’t quite get the right slope of the buck’s muzzle, but she doesn’t stress herself over it. No one will ever see her wonky deer. She looks up; the buck has gotten much closer, shuffling near the stand.

Dahlia puts her sketchbook aside, half finished wonky deer abandoned, as she moves to lay on her belly over the edge of the hunter’s stand. She stretches her hand out, his antlers high enough for her fingers to just brush the velvety texture. But that’s not what she’s after, wanting to pet the stags head. Dahlia shifts to a knee and a foot, she forces the fingers of one hand into the grating to keep a solid grip on the stand. She leverages herself to lean further and further out, stretching a hand out and nearly hanging completely off the stand. Her fingers just centimeters away from touching the stag’s head.

The fuzz of fur brushes across her fingers and the soft brown eyes looking up at her go blank; blood spraying from the side of the buck’s head as it’s body goes limp to the ground. She can’t help but jump back and fall on her ass; gasping at the now dead deer in front of the stand, the rest of them have scattered at the sight.

Maybe she should have expected it, being in hunter territory, but the closeness of it still startles her. There’s a heavy thud of boots, steady consistent footfalls crushing branches and grass beneath them. Ginger hair with shaved down sides and an army jacket; Jacob Seed.

This is likely the only time she’ll ever be taller than him, watching him from the stand as he shifts a bright red rifle from his hands to on his back. It seems so vivid and ostentatious compared to his utilitarian style of dress.  There’s a childish urge to jump on his back and scare him. But, they don’t know each other well and he’s a veteran, so she can’t know how he’d react to the sort of thing. Maybe a boo would be okay, just something small?

“You enjoying the show, honey?”

Dahlia jolts, taken aback by the sudden acknowledgment. She tucks a strand of hair back behind her ear and chews her lip watching as he starts to gather up the slain deer; then he looks up at her, blue eyes sharp and harsh. All the masculine Seeds have blue eyes and intense stares; but Jacob’s gaze is colder than Joseph’s and more steady than John’s. Something almost predatory to it. 

“I was drawing him,” she says after a moment, looking down at the stag. 

“And I was hunting him.” 

“Still would have appreciated another minute or two,” she says as she grabs her bag, throwing the sketchbook back inside before she jumps off the stand. 

“So, you could flail around and try to pet him for another five minutes.” 

“Hey,” she pouts, she was caught hanging from a hunting stand like the child she is, but, “wait, you saw me?”

He gives a vague grumble of agreeance, more preoccupied with tying up the hooves of his latest hunt to make it easier to carry. 

“And you still shot? You could have shot my hand off.” Has this man never taken a gun safety course, she catches a glimpse of the scope on his rifle, there’s no way he didn’t see how close his shot was to her hand. He chuckles, dry and deep, mocking her. 

“Relax, if I wanted to shoot you, you’d be dead by now.” 

“Wow, that’s not comforting.” 

“Wasn’t trying to be,” he says, standing up and packing the giant deer over his shoulder, like it’s nothing.  

Dahlia reaches out to touch it, fingers brushing through soft fur, no warmth beneath it. She might as well be petting a rug. Jacob starts to walk off and she doesn’t know why, but she follows him. Hands clasped behind her back and walking heel to toe after him. Maybe it’s just because she’s curious about him. He’s the only one of the Seeds not to take a strange interest in her for whatever reason. 

He doesn’t say anything at first, allowing her to follow along after him. Leaves and grass crush under foot as she follows along behind him, curious as to where he’s going or doing. She’s not sure what she expects, but it’s something to do if nothing else. 

“You got somewhere to be?” 

“Not really, no.” She tries to crane her head around, trying to get a better look at his face to gauge his reaction, but their height difference is too big to truly do so. The man has to be around a foot and a half taller than her; he seems even taller than the sheriff.

“Well, I do, so get out of here.” Her smirk drops, she was hoping to see him get more agitated like the youngest Seed brother, but his voice doesn’t rise. Staying the same steady deep timbre.

“Where are you going?” 

“Nowhere you need to be, sweetheart.”

“The nicknames aren’t really necessary.” She can’t help but say, wrinkling her nose in annoyance, the condescending way he calls her sweetheart and honey make her nauseous.

 “Neither is following me like a lost puppy dog; but here you are.” 

“I’m bored.”

“Not my problem.”

“You killed my only entertainment, so it is now.”

He comes to a sudden stop and Dahlia has to stop herself from running into his back; she doesn’t particularly want deer corpse on her face. He turns to face her; expression still the same stern look he usually carries, and she misses his grin when he was talking to kids at the barbecue.

“Look here, deputy, sticking your nose where it doesn’t belong and irritating me isn’t a habit you want to form. Get out of here.”

“Oh no,” she rolls her eyes, “I’m really scared.”

“Keep pushing, sweetheart, won’t get you anywhere.”

“God, you’re no fun.”

“Wasn’t trying to be.”

“Jacob is something wrong,” a voice cuts through their conversation, rough and masculine. And Dahlia see the long-haired man and short haired girl from the barbecue; the ones who shot her dirty looks when she talked back to Jacob.

“Nothing you need to concern yourselves with.”

“What are you doing here?” The woman asks Dahlia directly.

“Standing.”

“Fallon,” Jacob says the woman’s name, stern tone making her posture snap straighter, “I said it’s none of your concern. Let’s go.”

The three of them start to leave down a path; Fallon and the long-haired man have heavy bucks they pack as well. A hunting trip for Jacob and his…friends? Are they friends? That didn’t seem like friendship, but Dahlia is far from an expert on the matter. She offers a goodbye wave; but Fallon just rolls her eyes. Their steady footfalls leaving the deputy behind.

Well, it staved off the boredom for a while she supposes.

Dahlia lets out a huffy sigh, blowing loose strands of hair from her face as she begins back down the path she came. The sun is setting by the time she’s back to the parking lot and climbing on top of her bike.

Her stomach is growling by the time she’s driving down a main road, she sees the sign for The Grill Steak as she reaches the intersection. Dahlia pulls in, letting her stomach guide her actions, as she’s one to do.

It’s a small restaurant packed with groups of people from friends to families; she can feel the heat of the grill radiating through, the smell of her making her stomach growl. She settles into a booth by herself, when she reads through it the menu is full of gamey meat burgers and steaks. No signs of beef or pork; it’s all bison and deer. She wonders if the cook hunts everything himself, it wouldn’t surprise her, given what she’s seen of the county. He can hear the cook yelling something she can’t understand from the kitchen. Dahlia settles on ordering a cola and a deer burger; thinking about the hunted stag she saw Jacob kill.  

As she waits on her food, the chatter of a group catches her ear. They’re not from Hope County; the different cadences of how they speak mingled with fancy latin technical terms tells her as much. Trying to be discreet; she glances at them over her shoulder. A group of four; two women and two men all around the same age. Dahlia’s not the brightest bulb in the pack by her own admission, but when she hears the words corvids and lupine, she realizes they’re talking about animals. It doesn’t shock her, given the abundance of wildlife in the county, certainly people would come to research them. 

The door to the restaurant swings open and a man comes walking in, shoulders back and footfalls confident. It reminds her clearly of Jacob, the walk of a soldier, though this man isn’t quite as intimidating a figure. Older than Dahlia, though most people are, with a full dark beard and long scraggly dark hair. He doesn’t bother to take a seat at a booth or look at a menu, only giving a single wave to the cook in the back as he makes a beeline to the group. Dahlia shifts a little further down into her booth, not that anyone could truly tell she’s eavesdropping, but it gives a little more secrecy to it. 

 “You the conservationists?” 

 “Yeah, we’re studying the wildlife here… And you are?” 

“Eli, not here to ‘cause trouble or anything like that, just wanted to give some friendly advice.” 

“Friendly advice?” 

“You need to watch yourselves out in those woods.”

“Pffft.” 

“We’re well aware of how dangerous the wildlife out here can be. You-” 

“No, you aren’t. There’s wolves-”

“And bears and mountain lions, oh my,” one of them jokes, “look, we know what we’re doing.” 

“You’re not listening, they’re not regular wolves. They’ve been trained to kill and hunt people down on sight. Even if you avoid ‘em, you get on the cult’s bad side and they’ll send ‘em after you. You gotta be careful out here.” 

“Okay, sure,” the eyeroll is nearly audible, “we’ll keep an eye out for killer cult wolves, don’t worry.” 

“Don’t say I didn’t warn you, alright.” 

The man, Eli walks away, and Dahlia considers stopping him. Admitting her nosiness and ask him some of the million questions going through her mind. Surely by cult, he means Eden’s Gate, right? Dahlia can’t imagine who else he could mean. They’re small and close knit, but they’re not a cult, right? Cults imply something more out there or intense; they’re just a little Christian church. Joseph may have his own book, but they still follow Christian ideas of sins and scripture.

And wolves? How could they possibly be training wolves? It’s all so ridiculous and asinine, making gears spin and churn in her head until they overheat, but it was said with such conviction. By the time she brings herself to make a noise, Eli has already left, and it’s probably for the best. It’s too crazy to be true. Maybe he’s a tinfoil hat wearing type of guy, a conspiracy theorist like the Zip guy who leaves a newsletter in every damn corner of the county, screaming about chemtrails and baby farms.

She fills her stomach, deciding to leave that as it is, finally returning to her trailer late that night. A restless night of sleep with images of wolves and deer creeping around through her brain, nothing concrete enough to latch onto, but enough to unsettle.

A boring morning leads into a boring afternoon, time blurring before the sun has set and Dahlia’s finding herself pulling up to The Spread Eagle to catch her coworkers after their shift. She’s popped enough pain killers that the throb of music and noise is welcomed instead of irritating. A smile already gracing her lips when she catches Pratt and Hudson shooting the shit in the bar’s lowlight. As she sneaks up closer to them, their conversation starts to be audible over the tunes playing through the bar.

“I bet you break before then,” Hudson says, a teasing grin directed at Pratt.

“Hey, it’s only six months.”

“Please, you’re weak and you know it.”

“How much you wanna bet?”

Dahlia strikes, throwing her arms over Pratt’s shoulders, effectively hugging him from behind and leaning her weight into him. He’s warm and Dahlia can’t fight the impulse to squeeze him a little tighter. She breathes in the faint smell of coffee and cologne that still cling to him; comforting after so much time spent around him.

“Jesus fuck, when’d you get here?” Pratt blusters and at this close of a range Dahlia can see his cheeks pinkening under the scruff of his beard. Does this bother him?

“Right now.”

“You decided to come hang out again?” Hudson asks, grinning at the flustered Pratt.

“Mmhmm,” Dahlia hums into Pratt’s shoulder, pressing her face into him, “bored.”

“Get off me,” he grumbles and reaches back to swat at her hip.

“Ugh, buzzkill,” she bitches as she detaches from Pratt and climbs onto a bar stool, “so what the hell are you guys making bets about?”

Pratt coughs, trying to dislodge something from his throat, and Hudson laughs, “yeah, Pratt why don’t you tell her about our bet?”

“Don’t worry about it, Rook.”

“We still need to set an amount.”

“Fifty,” Pratt suggests and Dahlia wants to know even more what the hell they’re making bets about.

“Mmm, hundred.”

“Fine, if you’re comfortable losing that much.”

“Anyone gonna tell me what’s going on?”

“Nope.”

“Well, that’s gonna drive me crazy now, thanks.”

“You’re welcome.”

She sticks her tongue out at him and orders food, stuffing her face as she listens to her coworkers fill her in on anything of interest she’s missed during her off time. It’s not much, as usual, the workload in Hope County is pretty low stakes. Hunting violations, speeding tickets, and the like. Seems like her assault is about the most interesting case in a while. Dahlia’s tempted to ask if they know anything about wolf attacks but bites her tongue before she does. Hope County is filled with wildlife, wolf attacks have no doubt occurred to some degree and if she mentions the idea of trained cult wolves, they might start to think she’s buying into the conspiracy shit.

“Stop,” Pratt says suddenly, putting hand on Dahlia’s knee, “you’re shaking the whole damn bar.”

Her leg she realizes has been bouncing the whole time, the hike helped, workouts help, but she’s still breaming with pent up energy. There’s a rustle of movement and Dahlia is drawn to the open floor near the jukebox, she’s seen a few people dance here and there, a couple now and again swaying to softer tunes while she’s been here. But, it’s more crowded tonight, people laughing and dancing together.

“People are dancing,” she states the obvious.

“It’s ladies’ night, women drink free, so everyone’s extra, uh, energetic tonight,” Hudson tells her.

An upbeat song starts and Dahlia’s up in the next breath, she needs to move, burn off excess energy. And while her favorite club in Lake Charles isn’t exactly available to her anymore, she’ll jump at the chance to lose herself in a song.

You should be wilder, you're no fun at all.

Dahlia’s singing along as she sways and shifts through the crowd, body moving instinctually to the beat. There’s a woman about Dahlia’s age, long blonde hair and brown eyes, dancing as well and the deputy finds herself gravitating towards her.

Yeah, thanks for the input.

Thanks for the call.

She asks low into the woman’s ear, so she can be heard over the music, if she can dance with her. The response is a smile, lighting up the girl’s face, a nod of her head and then she’s pulling Dahlia in by the hips.

With dull knives and white hands

The blood of a stone

Cold to the touch, right

Right down to the bone

And then she loses herself in it. In the music that fills the bar, the feeling of a stranger touching her, the slide of her feet as she moves,  the way hips knock together, the scratch in her throat as she sings lyrics in the woman’s ear, their grins as they laugh and bump noses together. It’s fun and it’s silly, a reason to move and forget life for a moment.

Cause you give me the electric twist and it kicks and it kicks like a pony.

And true, you might run away with it, it's a risk it's a risk yeah.

Because it kicks yeah.

It really kicks yeah.

Dahlia spins the woman with a laugh, before pulling the woman close against her again, wide smiles and bright eyes as their foreheads touch. There’s sweat sticking to their skin as the song winds down. Panted breaths ghosting over each other’s faces as they come down from exertion.

And the touch of your lips it's a shock not a kiss

It's electric twist, it's electric twist

“How much I gotta pay to see you kiss?!” A loud voice booms out, making Dahlia and her dance partner of the night separate. There’s a man, couldn’t be older than his mid twenties, sitting at the bar with his legs sprawled open drinking a beer at the table between the bar and the dance area. His eyes linger and look over both women’s bodies

“Can I help you?” Dahlia asks and furrows her brows, glowering at the man as she draws closer.

“Oh just enjoying the show, sweetheart.”

“Not your sweetheart and I’m not a damn show.”

“Pfff, don’t get your panties in a twist,” he turns back to his table and rolls his eyes, as if Dahlia’s the problem, “fucking dykes.”

The junior deputy grits her teeth and she sees from her peripheral the woman rubbing the back of her neck, letting her bangs fall into her face looking like she’d rather disappear.

“The fuck did you call us?” She can’t stop herself from speaking, barely managing to reign her anger in enough not do something worse.

“You heard me.”

“Fuck you!”

“Hey, hey, hey!” Pratt’s voice cuts through as the man starts to turn to retort, the warmth of her coworker’s hand wraps around the clenched fist she didn’t realize she had raised.

“Is something wrong?” Mary May calls out, starting to walk out from behind the bar.

“Everything’s fine,” Pratt responds before Dahlia can say anything and when she starts to speak, he looks at her to whisper, “you’re barely three weeks into your job, you really wanna be getting into bar fights?”

“He ca-”

“I heard what he said, Rook, but it ain’t worth your job.”

“You’re right,” she gnaws on her lip and looks down on the ground, “I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine, I get it, I just don’t want you doing anything stupid.”

“I need some fresh air.”

Dahlia leaves The Spread Eagle, noticing the woman she danced with has already vanished, unwilling to deal with the bullshit. A cool breezes ghosts over her sweaty skin as she sits down on the porch steps at the front of the bar; running her hands through her hair as she fights to ease her nerves. She digs a pack of cigarettes out of her jacket pocket

There’s a crush of footsteps as she lights one, bringing it to her lips, shiny black leather boots entering her vision.

“Dep-yoo-tee.”

“You Seeds can just smell when I’m sad, can’t you?” She teases looking up to see John, the neon bar sign setting his face aglow in the night as he chuckles at her.

“Not my intention, but if you’re in need of a talk, I’d be happy to oblige.”

“You weren’t coming out here to harass Mary May again, were you?”

“Deputy,” he puts his hand to his chest cartoonishly dramatic in his hurt, “h-harassment? That’s ridiculous. am I not allowed to visit with Ms. Fairgrave and just discuss our difference of opinions.”

His voice is ramping up in pitch as he defends himself and Dahlia can’t help but smile, appreciating the distraction from her own troubles.

“Yeah, I’m pretty sure Mary May would have a different of opinion about that one. We still gotta talk about members stealing booze.”

“Our members would do no such thing; and I assure you, if there’s any harassment here, we’re the victims. We’ve been insulted, had our sermons interrupted, our practices mocked, Mary May herself once showed up our church simply to cause trouble.”

“Okay, okay, it’s a two-way street, I get it. Sit, we can chat for a bit,” she pats the section of porch step beside her and reluctantly after a beat of silence, he sits down, “so, Mary May caused trouble for you guys?”

“Yes, yes, she has and she’s not the only one; the people of this county have persecuted me and my family since we’ve been here.”

“I’m sorry to hear that, no one should mistreat you that way,” she looks him in the eye as she speaks, “and if it ever happens again, I want you to call down to the station, ask for me, and I’ll do whatever I can to help.”

“Well, it’s certainly nice to know you’re on our side.”

“Ah, ah, I’m on everyone’s side. Mary May is owed the same respect as you and your family; and if you cause issues for her, I won’t hesitate to intervene for her sake as well. I’m here to keep everyone safe. Got to treat everyone like you wanna be treated, the whole spiel.”

“I know you’re not preaching biblical principles to me, dep-yoo-tee.”

“Not biblical, just a little maturity.”

“Are you implying I’m immature.“

“You’re a grown man spatting with a woman ten or more years younger than you; throwing a tantrum and pointing fingers when you’re told to behave.”

“First of all, I’m not that old,” Dahlia raises an eyebrow at him, “don’t look at me like that, I’m 32. Secondly, I am not a child. Mary May has-“

“And if she does something again, now that I’m here, let me know and I will help. But her actions don’t justify yours.”

“Fine, I’ll be sure to hold you to that promise, then.”

“I mean it’s less a promise and more so doing my job, but alright.”

She breathes out a plume of smoke, making sure to aim away from John’s face, his blue eyes track the movement and the nicotine fumes that escape into the air. An ex-smoker, she deems as she watches him staring at her lips and the cigarette between her fingers.

“You want a smoke?” She asks, offering her pack of cigarettes.

“Smoking is forbidden in Eden’s Gate.”

“That’s not what I asked.”

Tattooed fingers pick out a cigarette and she lights it for him with a grin, watching him take a deep inhale and blowing out the smoke that fills his lungs. The soft rise of his chest and the gray clouds that billow out from parted lips. She notices for the first time the freckles on his neck and chest, shirt unbuttoned low enough to expose them. There’s thin fresh scratches along his hands and forearms, too superficial and fresh to match the deeper worn in scars, they look like cat scratches. And yeah, he seems like a cat guy.

“So, now that you’ve berated and tempted me, deputy,” he speaks after an exhale of smoke, “why were you out here pouting?”

“BREH!” She plops her back down on the porch with a vague animal long groan and throws her arms over her eyes, cigarette still between two fingers, must he remind of her own issues.

“Well that certainly wasn’t immature or dramatic.”

And she laughs, because he’s right, she can preach maturity all she wants to him. But, she’s still a brat herself. She’d justify herself with their massive age difference, because no way he’s thirty-two, but that feels flimsy at best. They’re both just two temper tantrum throwing children, hell they’re even both fibbing about their ages. Though, she suspects his own much more severe than the few months she adds to her own.

“Don’t wanna talk about it.”

“You know,” he lays back on the porch, matching her position, “I take the confessions for our church, if there’s anything you need to get off your chest, I’m the man to talk to.”

“Not much to say; guy called me a slur, I nearly throttled him.”

“Someone else’s actions don’t justify your own,” he parrots her words back to her.

“Yeah, someday I’ll follow my own advice.”

“Has that happened before?”

The gears in her brain churn, she’s been called many a thing, but her sexuality has been one of the less insulted facets of who she is.

Her stepfather, as religious as he was, was adamant on his hatred of gay people. But her own disinterest in exploring her sexuality or romance saved her from his scorn in that area, his focus more on the other various things he found deplorable about her.

Her mother’s side is Ashkenazi Jewish, and Dahlia remembers the few people of her stepfather’s church who despite her mother converting were disgusted their preacher would marry a Jewish woman. A handful leaving the church, a few sticking by just to call Dahlia and her mother slurs when their backs were turned.

The nightclub she favored in Louisiana was considered a gay bar, though not exclusive to LGBT folks. Women dancing with women, men dancing with men, men and women dancing; and a healthy amount of people who didn’t quite fit either label. Only one-night sticks out, a car speeding past the line outside the bar just to scream a slur out the window.  

Maybe what bothered her most was the boldness. This wasn’t someone whispering when they thought Dahlia couldn’t hear, and this wasn’t a man just screaming out at the public as he speeds away. Just a man emboldened and willing to hurt her in front of a bar filled with people.

“We’re blocking the door.”Everything else died on her lips; unable to spill her guts.

“And we weren’t while you were lecturing me?”

Her phone buzzes in her jacket as she brings her cigarette back into her mouth, unwilling to justify her evasiveness to a man she barely knows, she answers a number she doesn’t know at all.

“Hello?” She says around her smoke.

“H-hello, is this a deputy?” A soft broken voice, she remembers from the diner,  asks her and Dahlia sits up, tension pricking at the back of her neck.

“That’s me, Cassie?”

“You remember me…”

“What’s going on, are you okay?”

“Yeah, uh, I…” a beat of silence and a choked sob comes next, “no, I’m sorry, I’m, I’m not okay, I-“

“Where are you?” Dahlia’s on her feet, heartbeat in her throat as she waves off John’s furrowed brows and concern, running to her bike.

“I’m at the diner. I didn’t know where else to go…”

“I’m headed your way now, Cassie, are you safe?”

“I…I don’t know…I…”

Her voice breaks out into sobs again as Dahlia starts her engine, slams on her helmet, and switches her phone to the speaker in her helmet. The girl’s cries echoing around her as her wheels kick gravel across the parking lot, speeding out of Falls End.

[ma-sulevin]

I was tagged a while ago by both @a-shakespearean-in-paris​ and @thevikingwoman​ to share my fics for quarantine reading recommendations. 

So, here we are, broken down by fandom:

Dragon Age

Scars Beyond Counting, E, Complete, Alistair x Female Mahariel, 36k

Harea Mahariel has only been married for two weeks when she contracts the taint and loses her husband at the same time. Suddenly, she's thrust into a war she barely understands with a strange group of people who slowly become her new clan. Her one bright spot is Alistair, the only other person who understands what she's going through, and who slowly breaks down the wall she's built to defend herself.

The Fire and the Flood, E, Complete, Cullen Rutherford x Female OC, 40k

Rose Wedgwood is a storm mage who became a spirit healer after living through the fall of Ferelden's Circle tower during the Blight. When the Circle falls a second time during the mage rebellion, she joins the Inquisition at Haven instead of fighting with the rebels.

What she didn't know is that a certain Knight-Captain who survived Kinloch Hold with her is also working for the Inquisition.

In My Blood, E, Complete, Solas x Female Lavellan, Blackwall x Female Lavellan, 5k

Nora Lavellan has had her eye on Solas since she arrived in Haven. She wants him, desperately, and is pleased to discover that he's been dreaming of her too.

Meant to be read in conjunction with "The Fire and the Flood," but it isn't necessary to enjoy this story. Lavellan/Blackwall in chapter 3.

Into the Valley of Dreams, E, Complete, Cullen Rutherford x Female Trevelyan, 23k

When Asha Trevelyan learns how to manipulate the Fade to control her dreams, she starts using it to stave off the homesickness that comes with traveling Thedas. She misses Skyhold, her new home, but most of all she misses Cullen, the man she's been longing for since she woke up in Haven.

Though she enjoys the benefits of such a talent, her lack of training means she doesn't realize when she's snared Cullen's dream within her own.

The Life and Times of Sophie Amell, E, Complete, Female Amell x too many pairings, 32k

Sophie Amell was just a very young girl when the entire course of her life changed because she can summon flames at her fingertips. Each time she thinks her life is settling into something resembling normalcy, everything changes once again. She's conscripted into the Grey Wardens, she's sent to Amaranthine, or she loses someone she loves.

Usually, she loses the ones she loves every time her life changes.

This is the story of unwilling Warden Sophie Amell, told in four parts: The Tower, The Blight, The Wardens, and The Calling.

Ophelia Cousland series, various ratings, Complete, Alistair Theirin x Female Cousland, 12k

A series about Alistair meeting and marrying Ophelia Cousland after the blight. The fics are like half smutty, half not.

Mass Effect

At Wit’s End, E, Complete, Harry Carlyle x Female Ryder, 17k

While her brother is off saving the cluster from the kett, Chloe Ryder is stuck on the Hyperion to recover from the weeks she spent in a coma. Rebuilding her strength and muscle tone is nothing compared to trying to ignore the building attraction to her doctor -- Harry Carlyle, the man she'd wanted to seduce back in the Milky Way before she lost her chance.

Say You Won’t Let Go series, E, incomplete, James Vega x Female Ryder, 29k

A series of smutty fics of increasing length and emotion starring Avery Ryder and James Vega, in an AU where Avery doesn’t join the Andromeda Initiative and stays to fight the reapers instead.

Dissonance, E, Complete, Reyes Vidal x Female Ryder, 77k

Avery Ryder didn't want to be on the Pathfinder team, but she didn't want to stay behind in the Milky Way either. As a compromise, she joined the Initiative with plans to work in Colonial Affairs -- but those plans come crashing down after she wakes from stasis too early, joins the rebellion, and is banished with the rest of the exiles.

On Kadara, she makes do with what she has. She works for Sloane Kelly to make ends meet until she just can't stand to see Sloane taking advantage of the exiles for one more minute. Once again, her plans come crashing down, and she finds salvation with the Collective -- and a certain smuggler who always seems to be around every corner.

Hazel Shepard series, E, incomplete, Kaidan Alenko x Female Shepard, 13k

A series of mostly-smutty one-shots featuring Hazel Shepard and Kaidan Alenko, because I’m a simple woman with simple tastes.

Fallout 4

Jet Plane, E, Complete, John Hancock x Female Sole Survivor, 5k

Hancock finds Quinn sitting alone in her house, nursing a bad mood and a cigarette. He offers something to cheer her up, and she takes even more.

Far Cry 5

Duct Tape Fixes Everything, M, Complete, Sharky Boshaw x Female Deputy, 2k

Except marriages and broken hearts. Rook asks Sharky what he means. 

The Breakout, M, Complete, Thomas Rush x Female Captain, 3k

Security Captain Riley finally rescues Rush from the Twins for the first time, but seeing him again just brings up feelings and worries she doesn't know how to handle.

A Matter of Convenience, E, Complete, Staci Pratt x Female Deputy, 4k

Tensions run high when all the surviving members of the Sheriff Department have to share a bunker after a nuclear war. Mattie proposes she and Staci help each other out.

Jealousy Looks Good on You, E, Complete, Staci Pratt x Female Deputy, 4k

There’s a girl flirting with Staci at the bar.

It’s hard to tell from over here, but it looks like he’s flirting back. Asshole. What a fucking douchebag.

rise from the ashes and do it again (do it again), E, Complete, Sharky Boshaw x Female Deputy, 91k

Something has gone very wrong in Hope County. The cult's taken over and Mattie can't seem to stay dead, no matter how hard she tries.

[steadywombatart]

FMK (Jacob Seed/Female Deputy)

“Hey Jacob! Jacob, Jacob, listen…listen Fuck, Marry, Kill the Hope County Law People, go!

Sitting, as always, at the radio, Jacob Seed looked at her splayed drunken figure on the couch and arched an eyebrow “What?”

“Come on, you know, who would YOU, Jacob Seed, MARRY, FUCK and KILL from the Hope County Police. You go and then I’ll go about you Seeds, aren’t you curious?” She tried to make it sound appealing and wiggled her eyebrows at him and he had to admit that he was pretty sick of trying in vain to contact any of his brothers on the radio. He welcomed the distraction.

Facing his chair towards her, she eagerly sat up on the couch, looking expectantly at him.

He gave the slightest of sneers and chuckled to himself. The Rookie Deputy was an entertaining bunker companion, especially when she was just the right amount of drunk, like now.

“Well, let me see… Fuck Joey, that’s an easy one.”He said, trying to sound sure. Her face fell for just a second in disappointment but she quickly recovered “Yes, well that’s an obvious one…Joey’s pretty hot”

but he had caught that flicker of disappointment in her expression and was, frankly, a bit surprised. Was she sorry he hadn’t picked her? Could the Rookie have the hots for him? Wasn’t he too old? Too scarred? Hell, too…evil, in her eyes?

She took another swig of the bottle to fill the silence and said “Who would you Kill then?” although, once again, she was trying to hide her expression, being drunk was not helping her and besides she was pretty transparent when she wasn’t drunk. Jacob could almost read her thoughts and feelings just by looking and listening to her, she was so easy, so… innocent.

“Easy, i’d kill Peaches” she cocked her head to side, confused “My cougar? What’s she ever done to you?” he replied “You have a cougar named Peaches? You mean Ms Mable’s cat?”

“Well, yeah, I did… She just kinda…passed her to me. But if it’s not her, who do you mean? Who’s Peaches?” he chuckled, remembering the terrified face of the Deputy “Staci Pratt” she hung her head down, presumably thinking. As the silence went on and she didn’t move, he started to think that maybe she’d passed out. Shrugging inwardly, he prepared to try the radio again. Maybe this time, he would find someone, anyone at this point, would be something.

“I can see that. Ok, Marry, who would ya?” He turned to her, trying to act like she didn’t just kinda scared the shit out of him. “Hmm… Let me think…Ah��Yes, I know.” eyes wide and leaning forward she asked “Who? Who?” “Well, I think the Sheriff and I would get along just fine. We’re men of similar age” she snorted and fell back to the couch, laughing “ Come on Jacob, you’re not quite at the Sheriff’s age yet!” “No, but we’re the closest. And I just think we could make a good couple you know” “Oh yeah, I can just imagine you two lovebirds drinking beers and fishing your romantic days away” “Sounds good to me. Despite appearances, and before all this with the Cult and Joseph, many many long years ago, that’s what I wanted.” He rose and walked to the couch, extending his arm for the bottle of whisky, which she passed. Taking a swig, he plopped down, stretched his legs and settled one arm on the top of the couch. “Aaaaah…” he let out as the burning liquid passed through his body.

“Thought you couldn’t drink, you know, Cult rules and all…” she asked, settling on her knees, facing him. “Well, as the world seems pretty fucked right now, and I’m having this delusional conversation with the Rookie Deputy who, in matter of fact, caused this mess we find ourselves in, I think I’m entitled to a little drink.” She hiccuped and giggled “Yeah, I guess so…” and laid her head on the side of the couch. Nudging her with the bottle, he didn’t quite dare to touch her, not yet, he prompted “It’s your turn, Rook.” Still with her eyes closed she answered “Fuck Faith, Kill John because he scares the hell out of me, and Marry You, of course”

He did his best to suppress his surprise, not very hard, considering the present state of the Deputy. Taking a few breaths, and trying to settle his heart who started, unexpectedly to beat madly at her casual words, he asked, keeping his voice under control “Fuck Faith? Why not Joseph? He’s half naked most of the time anyway” she mumbled something incoherently and then said more clearly “I don’t know, crazy mystical witch turns me on, I guess. Joseph’s too…intense, I think he’d fuck me as like a duty you know? No passion, just business. Faith on the other hand, I have no idea and with the Bliss in the mix, oh boy, that’d be something to tell the grandkids about” she laughed and eyes closed, sleepily slid forward on the couch, almost touching his shoulder, but still not quite. His heart danced wildly in his chest, he hadn’t felt like this, hell he didn’t think he had ever felt like this, was even capable of wanting someone anymore, not after all the shit, all the sacrifices, all the things he’d done that left him broken and hard at the same time. What was it about her? Was it just the fact that they’d been stuck together in this bunker for 6 weeks now and for at least some years? No, if he was honest to himself he had felt something like excitement when he first saw her entering the church, that night that seemed like years ago now. She was trailing behind the Sheriff and the Marshall, arms stiffly at her side and looking side to side like she was about to bolt out of there at any second. That’s what she should have done, then none of this- but he wasn’t quite sure he didn’t want this situation he was in now to not have happened. This was an impossible opportunity. Opportunity? For what? he couldn’t admit it yet, no words could yet describe this… hopeful feeling in his chest.

She had stopped behind them and stared wide-eyed as Joseph spoke, the Marshal interrupting him, the Sheriff trying to prevent an escalation. And then, as Jacob got nearer to his brothers on the altar, he stared at her as the Marshal gave her the order to cuff Joseph. She held on to the cuffs, staring wildly at Joseph’s eyes as he spoke to her, moments passed, enough to let him think she would refuse and just walk away… but then, swallowing so hard he saw her throat muscles harden in tension, she had cuffed his brother in a quick movement. And then, well, everything happened. And now here they were, underground in some preppers’ bunker, she drunk as a skunk and almost falling asleep, if she wasn’t already, at his side. At his side, the Deputy, the one his brother had prophesied would kill him and his brother, was drunkenly almost passed out on the same couch as him. And he was feeling, like… A scenario flashed in his head, grabbing her face and kissing her hard, she grabbing on to him just as desperately; her, moaning so sweetly underneath him as he- “Yup, you’re the man for me, Jakey boy. You’re my chosen Seed” she blurted out suddenly as she turned belly up and lay her head across his legs. He froze, not knowing what to do in surprise. She raised her hand to his face and with her finger pressed against his mouth she continued happily “You’re the man for me, Jacob Seed. Even though you prefer the Sheriff… I would definitely try to se-seduce you away with, using my…my womanly…what’s the word..? Wiles! Yes, my bewitchingly womanly wiles and you’d be mine forever! AH! What do you say to that!” Her arm dropped from his mouth to across her forehead as she closed her eyes and went quiet. Trying to shake himself into control, trying not to think about the fact that her head was in his lap, so inconveniently close to- trying not to think about her drunk, surely meaningless words, she was pissed, she didn’t really like him, how could she? He did the only thing that occurred to him in the moment, he finished the rest of the whisky, wishing to be drunk as fast as possible, anything to help him deal with this.

She didn’t say anything else and judging by her light snoring sounds, she had fallen fast asleep on his lap, her arm still across her face.

He was thankful she had passed out because any much more of this and- he didn’t know what he would have done. The scenarios that kept recurring in his mind of her underneath him, on top of him, exploring everything, tracing his scars with kisses and - Stop this, you are weak! You should take this opportunity to finally kill her once and for all! Stop this torture, this weakness you’re inflicting to yourself, all because of this girl, this woman who is, well, was their enemy!

But a surging hopeful feeling in his chest told him “this isn’t what was supposed to happen… this is all a mistaken reality, this couldn’t be happening…Joseph said she would kill me, kill John, kill Faith… We were his sacrifices, nothing more. But now, how do I find myself in this alternate reality where my killer, my passed out, drunken killer is snoring happily away on my lap while I yearn for her as an adolescent boy…? He looked down at her peaceful sleeping face and his hand moved involuntarily to just grazing her hair at first, then, seeing no reaction on her part, he settled it on top of her head, caressing her as gently as he knew how. Which wasn’t saying much. He didn’t have a lot of experience in this side of life. He hadn’t ever wanted or desired anyone like this until now.

She mumbled happily in her sleep and turned to her side, her face facing his crotch. He froze again. This was too much, he had to get out of this. Before he could think of anything, she was moving her hand next to her face, which meant it was directly on top of- oh Joseph almighty, give me strength. Holding his breath and not daring to move too much he said weakly “Deputy? Hey Deputy?” No reaction, he exhaled slowly and inhaled, trying to keep himself under control. He shook her gently on the shoulder with his other hand “Come on Deputy, you need to wake up now” she mumbled and still sleeping put her head on his stomach and both arms around his waist, holding him. “Oh shit…” she felt warm and comforting and how long had it been since anyone had held onto him like that? Had it ever even happened? In that moment, he lost his fears and anxieties and just acted, acted on instinct. Both arms holding her he lay himself down on the couch and settled her on top of him, she still holding on to him. Like they did this every day, it felt so familiar. He felt her body on top of him, and a warm feeling coursed through him as he crossed his arms on her back, making them as close as could be. He could feel her breasts pressing against his chest and her slow, deeper than before breathing as she settled in. He held her, face buried in her hair, feeling like this moment could pass any time and he couldn’t let it go. Desperately, desperately he held her as tears flooded his eyes. This felt unreal, this was dream, it couldn’t be happening. That this young woman, who he had yearned for, honestly, unknowingly, all his life, was now in his arms, across his body, so close to himself they felt melded together. This had to be wrong, it had to be. He was her enemy, he was too old, too scarred, too ugly, too fucked up in his head, too disgusting for her. And besides, she was drunk, wasn’t he just taking advantage of that? She was the one who said all those things about marrying him and laying provocatively on his lap and touching his mouth…she wasn’t that drunk, surely? Was this a game she was playing? Did she have some purpose in seducing him? They were stuck together for the foreseeable future and of the two, he was clearly the expert survivalist, so why try to cause him harm, the only person who could probably make her survive this. The tips of his fingers were ice cold and his hands felt like blocks of ice from the dread at his racing thoughts. But then she sighed and said so low he almost couldn’t make it out “I’ve been dreaming of this for weeks… You feel so good, your body feels so good against mine” and she pressed herself closer even, her legs entwining with his. “Jacob, you should know, I’m taking advantage of you right now” she said while resting her chin on his chest and looking at him, a playful tone on her voice. Butterflies flew inside his chest, an impossible lightness, a tantalizing excitement coursed through him as he couldn’t help but happily chuckle at her statement. “Here I was thinking I was doing the same to you, Deputy” she smiled and said “No, it’s definitely me who’s taking advantage, I’m not even that drunk, I just wanted you to think I was. It gave me…courage. And call me by my name, I have one, you know?”

[ofravensandgenesis]

Meme Tag Games!

Thank you for all the lovely tags!! :D <3 This is quite belated but between some health happenings, the weather deciding to turn the thermostat way up (and the house AC went out), and other stuff, I got swamped for a while there. Here we are now though! :D Tagging anyone who wants to jump in on any of these, namely FC5 GFH tag game; OC Fighting Style; and WIP Day. Continued below the cut because this got long:

FC5 Guns For Hire Meme Game

Tagged by @chyrstis​ and @amistrio​ for the FC5 GFH meme, thank you for the tag!! :D <3 We have full length responses with some banter with the human GFH in particular here. I was kind of stumped with how to answer this for Joshua in what he might say as a GFH since his verse is very tailored for him being the Deputy and all the psychic shenanigans. Eventually I got over that and this is basically an AU where there’s another (unnamed here) Deputy who IS slated to be The Deputy that Joshua is trying to help (and convince to do less murder) to explain how he fits into a verse as a Gun For Hire. Psychic shenanigans still happen in this AU of an AU ofc, just it’s perhaps less prominent. We’re skipping over possible musings of relevant sidequests for Joshua relating to the Seeds in this for the sake of time, though I acknowledge that it’s something to explore, likely would impact the endgame with the Heralds, cult, and Joseph depending on the Deputy’s choices of doing a Kill or No-kill run. This verse also assumes that Joshua, the Deputy, Whitehorse, Pratt, and Hudson all got away or were not present for the helicopter crash. Other characters minor and otherwise who are alive in Joshua’s main fic verse ACABH are the same as in that story thus far, such as Rae-Rae and Ryan being alive. We’ll also presume the Seeds are all still alive at the time of these dialogue lines.

Deputy Joshua Raguel Rook

(All images used were public domain and/or labeled free for reuse under creative commons license. Above image was sourced from [here.]) With Fangs for Hire

Boomer: “Hey there boy, how’re you feeling today? Got some venison strips saved for you, you eating enough with all this running around?” [cue more small talk and praise for Boomer about how Boomer’s doing such a good job and Joshua feeding Boomer bits of cooked meat. Will likely sing snatches of cheery dog-themed songs he’s heard when in the party with Boomer and there’s no enemies nearby.]

Peaches: “...I hope that’s not people-meat in your teeth, Peaches, you know how Miss Mable feels about that, it’s bad for your health. I’m also not quite brave enough to want to brush your teeth—though maybe Dr. Lindsey or Wade can offer advice on that. We’ll get you some nice fish instead, that’s a good kitty.” [He’s a bit more shy around Peaches than Boomer bc cougar, but an effort at friendliness will be made.]

Cheeseburger: “...that is one big bear. He’s a sweetheart though. Just...hoping he doesn’t make a mistake of who he’s barreling into. It’s not like we’re wearing team colors or anything.” [Cheeseburger is a sweetie and Joshua likes him, but also: bear. Joshua’s a bit wary around him, but will still feed Cheeseburger salmon when able. May crack a joke paralleling Cheeseburger going “Only You Can Prevent Cult Gun Fire.” Will not crack this joke after any Jacob-region events though.]

With Other Guns for Hire:

Sharky

Sharky: So amibro, I was thinking, you know how those Angels are all dead in the head and stuff? How are they still shuffling around, is the Bliss like a zombie plant or something? Joshua: ...no, that’s more in line with the aliens that Larry keeps going on about I’m sure. Something about brainmelting and bendy straws, I got lost when he started mentioning Navier-Stokes equations for how the...resulting brain juice would be redirected. [Shuddery noise of disgust.] I’m not sure if he’s serious or just fucking with me and referencing Guy’s zombie movie series at this point. Could be either or. The Bliss is more like...like...uh. Like if you lost the keys to your car, but the car’s your body. You get me? Sharky: Damn, remind me never to OD on the stuff, I lose the keys to my car all the time. Sometimes I can’t be bothered to find em and just jiggle the lock so I can hop on in to hotwire the car because I’m in a hurry, you know? Ladies love a man who’s good with his hands, and who’s good with time and can improvise. You think that’d work on the Bliss car keys? Joshua: Maybe? Not everyone seems to be as readily lost to the Bliss at the same amounts. Personally I’d wager you’d be able to find your way back to your body no matter where you were in the bliss if we stood you near a signal fire. Sharky: This is why we’re friends man! Ride or die! ...also can you help me find my keys with that trick of yours, I lost ‘em again. Joshua: Yeah, though did you check under your bed? Also, maybe hang your regular set and a spare set of keys on a hook by the door so you can always find them, just in case you’re in a hurry.

Hurk

Joshua: Hurk. [Said in a Mild, Judgmental Voice of Impending Doom From A Friend kind of tone.] Hurk: Hey man I didn’t do nothin’ to deserve that tone of voice now don’t you start on me. Joshua: How can you say that when you and Sharky went and invented zipline grenade-golf without me last night? And blew up part of the mini-YES-sign. Hurk: Oh man you were talking up Lindsey and with the way the two of you were smiling and laughing, we figured you might be getting lucky so like the proper supportive wingmen me and Sharky were, we left you gentlemen some of our finest booze and sticky green. You did find it didn’t you, I’d hate to waste the gifts of the beneficent Monkey God from above as He Who Likes To Par-tay Above And Here Below On This Earth did command me never to waste beer or the good kush and to always help a brother out who’s trying to hook it up with their fine persons of choice. Joshua: Hurk I’m not— [sighs in accepting and fond exasperation.] It’s not like that with me and Charles— Hurk: Ooooooooooooo, you’re on a first name basis already! I knew you had it in you! Get it man, get it good! I’m not into that, you know I like the ladies strictly, but I will support your endeavors no matter the sex of your fellow party-goer as leader of Hurk Gate and the Bro-iest of Bros. Joshua: Hurk oh my god, I’m not trying to sleep with or romance him. I’m—he’s not looking for that, at least not with me certainly, and I—...just, thanks. I still have most of the beer and weed leftover if you and Sharky are up for graffiting one of John’s billboard signs though. You in? Hurk: Hell yeah man, and oo, you did get some then, Josh you sly dog! Joshua: I DID NOT! [Meta-clarification: Joshua indeed did not, for reasons to be revealed at a later time in the main fic.]

Sharky, Hurk, and Joshua, if one bends the mechanics so they are all in the party together at the same time:

Sharky: Pfhahahahaha oh man did you see the look on those Peggies’s faces when we came just crashing down the mountainside in that burning car? It was priceless!

Joshua: What better way to set fire to mass amounts of Bliss fields than with a moving fireball? Sharky: I know man it was great! We didn’t get too singed or nothin’! We gotta try that burning trash-ball idea next time though, like building a snowman but with fire! A fireman! Ha! That was the easiest fifty bucks of my life, cuz. Joshua: Hold up a tick now, what. Hurk: Sharky man that’s against the betting code! You’re not supposed to tell! Joshua: Oh, you cheeky bastards were betting on if Sharky could convince me to drive the car down the hill, weren’t you. Hurk: Man it’s always a crap shoot with you, specially around cars. That’s what makes it fun, sometimes you get all “guys that’s not safe,” [said with a poor imitation of Joshua’s voice complete with a very terrible southern, Georgian-style accent before Hurk switches to his normal speaking voice to continue,] —and other times it’s just “hold my beer.” You’re not going to go all prim and proper on us now are ya? Joshua: I can’t believe you two. Gambling in Hope County, I’m shocked, shocked. Sharky you owe me half, I’ll buy you a beer first round. Sharky: Hell yeah man! Hurk: Wait a second did you two just con me? I’ve been robbed! Police! Joshua: Hurk I *am* the police, one of them present at least. Hurk: Oh shit son, you right. Help I’m being oppressed by the system!

Nick Rye

[This conversation happens after Seed Ranch has been taken, along with the AU detail of capturing John’s plane Affirmation at the same time, preferably early on, while John is still alive.] Nick: Hey Joshua I was talking to Sharky— Joshua: Oh no. Nick: And he had an idea that wasn’t half bad. Not a good one, and you’d be liable to get killed or captured, but I got stuck thinking on it and wanted to ask: What d’you think would happen if you dressed up like the Father and just pulled a whole Mission: Impossible face-a-roo switch? You can do that imitation of how he speaks and everything, I’ve heard you do it before. And with how high the Peggies are most of the time, they’re so far out of their gourds they wouldn’t notice the differences. Joshua: You mean aside from his brothers and sister noticing he’s suddenly an inch shorter, twenty years younger and the wrong brand of crazy? Nick: Just go off about there being an edit to God’s Plan or something, and you could get makeup or something going on with that age thing. People do all kinds of wizardry with foundation and stuff, though you’d have to ask someone else on that. Maybe Addie or someone she knows? I don’t know if they have aging-up tricks compared to aging-down though. It could work! Might be a quick way to end the fighting if we can just stuff Joseph into a car trunk and then stash him in a bunker somewhere while you’re pretending you’re him. Joshua: Nick my tattoos are different and I’m not going to convince people I’m Joseph if I have to do one of his shirtless walkarounds, NOR am I having sins and Bible verses carved into my hide to complete the look. I don’t think we have any special effects or make up artists in the county who specialize in convincingly fake scars made out of latex or something. Nick: I don’t know, that Guy Marvel might have someone. Or, had someone. He has to be able to afford all those special effects somehow. Joshua: I’m not going anywhere near that guy with a ten foot pole man, he weirds me out. Also consider: I’d have to talk to Jacob, John and Faith as Joseph. I don’t want that kind of responsibility of herding that conversation at the family dinner. Nick: Hoo, good point. So...how is that family bullshit coming along then? Joshua: I have no idea, I’m just winging it, like you are. Nick: [who’s currently flying a plane, thus the slight pun] Heh. Good luck with that then, and let me know if you want me to paint something special on John’s precious little Affirmation next time you take it out for a spin to spite him. Joshua: I’m sure I can think of a thing or two.

Adelaide

Adelaide: Honey you need to take a breather one of these days and just take a load off, if you keep up the way you’re going you’re going to end up looking more like your dad sooner rather than later. You should swing by the Marina sometime and have a yoga session with Xander, really helps get the blood pumping and limber you up if you know what I’m saying. Joshua: [Snorts in amusement.] Is Xander trying to convince you to eat more kale chips instead of potato chips again? Adelaide: Rook sweetie, I love Xander but there are some things a woman won’t put in her mouth, and kale chips are one of them. Joshua: I’ll swing by sometime to help out with the kale chips then, and maybe get in a yoga session at the same time. It’s been a while since I chatted Xander up what with the county going pearshaped. Adelaide: I’ll never understand how you two can eat those things. Ugh. Gives me the willies. Joshua: *I* eat them dipped in homemade spicy nacho cheese sauce. I have no idea how Xander eats them straight and still claims to have working tastebuds.

Grace

[For context: This conversation is based on the AU’s detail that Grace’s father has survived the previous attempt on his life prior to the start of the Reaping.]

Joshua: Did you crack open the extra care packages we dropped off yet Grace, or did your dad get to ‘em first? Grace: You referring to the chocolate bars you stashed in there? I got my share of them out in time. Joshua: Good, I was a little worried when you told me they were missing last time. Thought they might’ve been lifted without me knowing beforehand. Grace: He’s a sly one when sweets are up for grabs. Now if you can do something about the shortage of decent coffee… Joshua: What’s that? A reason to piss John off today and raid his personal stash? Say no more!

Jess

Jess: So. Joshua: So. Jess: Just like old times but with more fucked up cultist family bullshit than before, huh. Joshua: [Sighs.] Yeah. Jess: That’s rough, buddy. Joshua: Least I can steal shit en masse from the cultists and no one else minds right now. For the life of me though I can’t figure out where all of the snacks from Lorna’s went when the Peggies hit her place. I think they ate ‘em all. Jess: [Noise of disgust.] Those two-faced fuckers going on and on about how bad commercially produced food is and how everyone should get back to basics, but there they go snatching up all the frosted cakes and maple bars like it's baby’s first shoplifting spree. Joshua: I know right? Even if they do believe the end of the world’s coming, that’s still rude to clean the store out on the first go around—leave some snacks for the next bunch of looters, god damn.

In Combat

[Note: due to Joshua’s verse details, this comes with the assumption that were one to play in a version of his universe, the Deputy would have a kill/spare mechanic and thus also an option of doing a No Kill run and variations on that spectrum, which Joshua’s mechanics would support more so. This would likely also mean some additional options for the other guns-for-hire and creative use of their canonical loadouts and abilities. Joshua’s setup would overlap with Boomer and Jess’s via the Spotter and Concealment abilities, and he’d be equipped with a bliss dart gun and a scoped hunting rifle. Also melee options and such.] Seeing/tagging an enemy: “Hey look, another whack-a-mole.” / ”Fashionably challenged mountain-man zealot sighted.” / “Enemy sighted.” Seeing/tagging multiple enemies at once: “duck, duck, cultists.”/ “The Rapture called, they don’t want these Peggies back.” / “multiple hostiles in the area.” Bliss darting/knocking out a Peggie at range: “Nap time.” / “Another one bites the dust.” / “Down they go!” / “A little dirt nap never hurt any Peggie. Won’t hurt their outfits any either, a little dirt brown looks better than all of that mayonnaise-white so many of them wear anyway.” Knocking out a Peggie with a non-lethal stealth takedown: “Lights out.” / “Rang this one’s chimes hard enough he’ll think it’s time for morning service on a sunday when he wakes up.” / “Sleep tight.” / “She’s/he’s down.” Sneaking: “Feels like a tuesday.”  / “...” / “Five bucks says I can pickpocket the guards and they’d never even know till later.” / “Moving position.” / “Good to go.” Upon witnessing the Deputy killing an enemy: “Was that really necessary?!” / “...shit.” / “Maybe we should disengage and drop back out of sight instead of this.” / “What the fuck!” Reviving an ally/The Deputy: “Don’t you go dying on me! Stay alive, you’ve got so much to live for!” / “Come on, let’s get you patched up, you’re gonna be okay!” / “No no no! Don’t you dare die! Not today!” Hurt: “MOTHERFUCKER!” / “Ow!” / “God damn it, I just patched this shirt! And myself!” / “This is NOT my fucking element, fuck!” / “Why are we even in a situation where we’d get shot at?!” Downed: “Could use a little help over here!” / “Bleeding out, help!” / “...mom?”

Driving

When asked to drive: “...you sure? I really think someone else driving would be a better idea under current circumstances, but okay. Just don’t go making a habit out of this. Please. For everyone’s sake.” / “No.” [This is followed by outright refusal to sit in the driver’s seat.] / [Optionally if Sharky and/or Hurk are around] “Ugh. Just...gotta pretend this is driving through a Clutch Nixon. With live gun fire, instead of just fire-fire.”

When the Deputy/someone else is driving recklessly: “Iwantoffthisride” / “I’m going to have to pick upholstery out from under my nails later.” / “JESUS TAKE THE WHEEL.” / [Recites a Hail Mary.] / “Having a good time! NOT.” / [If it’s Sharky or Hurk driving] “This is the kind of reckless driving I can get behind. Through regular past exposure therapy.” Changing radio stations: [If it’s being changed to Eden’s Gate stations] “Can we not? I’ve heard this music so many times it’s old as hell, however catchy.” / “They did do a good job on the music, I gotta say. More ominous meaning to the lyrics right now in particular though.” / [If it’s being changed to Resistance Radio stations] “Road trip time! Watch out for moose in the road.” / “Hell yeah, crank those tunes!” / “I’m glad we have regular music to listen to still, it’d be such a drag to have to go without it.”

Idle

- [General] “What’s up? Everything going alright with you?” - [General] “I heard of a good fishing spot where the rainbow trout [or other game fish depending on situation/mechanics] are really biting today if you want to take a breather and just do a bit of fishing.” [this dialogue only triggers if the Deputy hasn’t filled out the map yet for fishing spots, and adds one to the map with a notification.] - [General] “Hey, there’s a prepper stash over yonder, if you want to try your hand at getting at it. [This dialogue only triggers at random if the Deputy hasn’t polished off all the nearby Prepper stashes already. Marks a nearby prepper stash on the map and gives a notification.]

- [General] “You know what surprises me? That the Project didn’t try to shut off the power plant to at least portions of the county. Sure lots of people are preppers or woodsmen and such, but electricity makes everything easier for us. Weird, ain’t it? They have the technicians for it I’m sure. Guess we should thank our lucky stars they either didn’t think of that or decided it wasn’t worth it. We’d be straight out of ice cold beer then, Whitehorse would hate that.” - [If the Deputy is taking the no-kill route] “Hey I just want to say...I appreciate you trying not to kill people, even if some of these cultists are absolute motherfuckers who deserve it. We might be able to stop all their prophecy crap dead in its tracks if you keep this up. And...you know. Thanks for not killing my crazy relatives? I think. They’ve done a lot of bad shit and they need to answer for that, but...the right way, not backwoods murder. We’re better than that, I hope.” - [If the Deputy is taking the killing route] “I get wanting to kill the Seeds and the cult...but this isn’t going to end well, even after we’re done. I wish you wouldn’t, but I can’t stop you if this is the choice you’ve made. ...I’m sorry I can’t be of more help to you. I...hope you’ll be alright, in the end. But I don’t think you will be.” [Recall that Joshua Knows What Will Happen To The Deputy if they take the canonically-based killing route. He leaves before the final confrontation, and curiously Whitehorse, Pratt, and Hudson don’t show up in the final scene either—ie, whichever route the Deputy chooses, they survive elsewhere (coughcough Joshua’s secret bunker cough.) The scene with Joseph still happens more or less the same, only the Deputy leaves alone if they choose Walk Away, and ends up alone with Joseph if they choose Resist. Also interestingly enough: Dutch isn’t present on the radio, nor in his bunker. His fish have been taken too. Joshua didn’t have the time to grab everyone, so he tried to grab the ones he knew for sure would die, and warned the others that he foresaw not surviving the Collapse or aftermath, like Mary May and Jess Black, or who suffered serious injuries like Grace. His buds Sharky and Hurk he bribes with beer and weed to hide out in their bunker or hang out in his while this goes down. Boomer, Cheeseburger, and Peaches are all herded to safety (yes there are mechanics for that in the standard AU verse, we shan’t delve into them here though bc spoilers tho.) The others he tries to warn, but whether he managed to get to them and some of the other latter people mentioned above in time or not is uncertain.] - [If the Deputy switched from a killing route to a no-kill route and all of the Seeds are still alive, Joshua sounds relieved] “Hey, I know it’s...it’s hard to hold off pulling the trigger when someone who’s hurt so many people is in your gunsights, but...I do think bringing them in for actual processing through the legal system—a proper trial without bullshit—is the better way. For all of us. Thank you.” - [If the Deputy switched from a no-kill route to a killing route, sounds slightly devastated] “...Why?” - [If the Deputy is doing a “neutral” run of killing significant numbers of cultists, but is sparing the Seeds as they go] “...I appreciate you not killing the murdery head-cult-family members, but…you think we could maybe lighten up on killing the rank and file? They don’t have the big names and they aren’t the leaders, but those are still people. They are responsible for their own actions, not saying they aren’t, but many of them are redeemable. Not all of them, but...maybe we can just lay them out in the infirmary for a good long while instead? Nothing permanent. The bad ones though can fall off a cliff.”

- [If the Deputy is doing a “selective killing” run of not killing rank and file cultists, but is in the process of killing all the Seed Heralds. Joshua sounds conflicted.] “I appreciate you not killing the followers, though some of them are definitely bastards who shouldn’t be allowed to walk free for the shit they’ve done, but...you think we could...maybe not kill the Seeds either? The Seeds are the primary responsible parties, not contesting that, but maybe we can just kick their asses and arrest them instead? It might help dampen the chaos somewhat, maybe we can use ‘em for leverage. We certainly could hide them somewhere secure that the Peggies wouldn’t be able to find ‘em. It’d be easier to talk Joseph down too, using his siblings as leverage.” [See above for killing route ending details.] Also? We’re driving in separate cars. Don’t turn on the radio, stay away from the others. You’re still brainwashed, and dangerous.” [Joshua is disappointed in the Deputy for not having stuck to some manner of universal moral principle.] - [If friendly, and the Deputy is on either a no-kill playthrough or has switched to a no-kill route,] “Hey, you wanna play a game of checkers, or chess? Take five for a bit, if you got the time?” - [If friendly, and the Deputy is on either a no-kill playthrough or has switched to a no-kill route,] “Hey, not to be mushy or anything, but...thank you. For being you. It’s inspiring to see someone’s able to take the higher path when everything’s falling to pieces all around us. Makes me have a little bit more faith in humanity, too.” - [If friendly, and the Deputy is on either a no-kill playthrough or has switched to a no-kill route, and has been on said no-kill route for a decent amount of time,] “Hey, we grabbed some really good produce this time around and sent it on over to Casey. Told him I’d tell you to swing by, and asked him to save some for you in case you were interested. They’ve got some fresh beef for burgers and sandwiches, pumpkin pie, apple pie, loaded baked potatoes, and all kinds of other tasty stuff for a cookout. The Ryes are coming round to help pitch in and organize it all as a little morale boost party. Wanna come? You deserve to put up your feet and relax, and I’m sure I’m not the only one who’d appreciate your company if you felt like joining in. If you’d rather not, I can sneak food to you if you want quiet time to yourself. It’s all good, just tell me what you want and where you want it.”

Location Specific:

- Near where the police station was, if it’s been burned down: [Sighs.] “While I’m not missing the paperwork that got torched, there was a nice feel of history to the old place. Wish they hadn’t burned it down, fuckers. But, well...the Project and the Seeds have good reason to have no love for police and authority figures among others, even before all this horribleness and the leadup stuff came down. So I can’t say I’m surprised they did.”

- Upon entering the Spread Eagle, if friendly: “Finally, a place where everybody knows our names instead of yelling “Deputies!” at us all day! Wanna hit up the arcade? I’ll buy the first round if you get the higher score.”

- Seed Ranch, outside if it hasn’t been liberated, inside if it has been liberated: “Never going to understand why some folks want real airy houses with so much dead space as their main living quarters. Feels more like a knickknack museum you’re supposed to look at, not a home you’re supposed to live in. He’s got all this Eden’s Gate paraphernalia in those glass display cases, and I don’t doubt John’s fervent in his beliefs, but it feels more like a rich boy’s hunting and vacation lodge cobbled together with a vague idea of home. You saw the doghouse out back, right? What’s the point of having a dog live outside if you’ve got ALL this space, it’s all finished wood floors, and you’ve made sure to train ‘em and raise ‘em properly so they know not to chew on the furniture? It’s lonely, that’s what this is. Joseph chides John and all that about learning to love, but it’s a case of the blind leading the blind there.” - Outside St. Francis Veterans Center: [Before the Veterans Center is liberated, if Jacob has captured the Deputy at least once, so the song “Only You” is played around the Center, and the melody starts to be audible in the distance as the group approaches.] “Yeah hey, I’m going to go the other way now and wait for you over here where I can’t hear the song of madness, ‘kay? Maybe you should avoid it too.” [This is followed by Joshua refusing to go too close to the Center, sans possible AU story missions.] - Anywhere near Joseph’s Island: [The first time the party gets near Joseph’s Island,] “Uh. No. I’m not going near that place twice any sooner than we need to.” [Watch Joshua be willing to jump out even into deep water and swim away if the Deputy tries to approach the island with him in tow on a boat.]

OC Fighting Style

Tagged by @chyrstis​ !! Thank you for the tag!! :D <3 This was another fun one to fill out (and shorter than the above but you know what we’re stapling all of these bad boys into one post bc Why Not.) Have an aesthetic picture of a Jacob sheep skull upon a sheep skin for the fun implications of what that says about Joshua’s fighting style. xD Ram skull image after some searching was sourced from [here], with a creative commons license for free-to-reuse, with some limitations.

Rules: bold = often (or always), italics = sometimes, default = rarely, strike = never

fight honorably / fight dirty / prefer close-quarters / prefer range / chat during / go silent / low pain tolerance / high pain tolerance / attack in bursts / attack steadily / go for the kill / aim to disarm / fight defensively / bait an opponent’s first strike / strike first / provoked easily / provoke their opponent / tease / get visibly frustrated / shout while attacking / use strategy / focus on their battle / experience conflicting thoughts during battle / rush in recklessly / try to read their opponent before fighting / fight wildly / fight calmly, apathetically / fight with anger / fight with excitement / fight because they have to / fight because they want to / fight without regard to wounds / run away when wounded / hide wounds / take a blow to protect another / prefer a blade / prefer a gun (non lethal rounds/tranquilizer darts) / prefer a bow / prefer a shield /  prefer a spear naginata / prefer a personalized weapon / prefer psychic abilities / prefer brawling / their greatest weakness is physical / their greatest weakness is mental / their greatest weakness is emotional / transform for battle / fight as they appear / rely on strength / rely on speed / use everything they have / hide their full potential / exhaust quickly /  high stamina / doubt their strength / proceed with caution / behave arrogantly / brag after landing a hit / belittle their abilities / use psychological tactics / use brute strength / avoid civilians / strike down civilians / damage surroundings / avoid damaging surroundings / signature fighting style / making it up as they go / mastered skillset / learning their skillset / fancy footwork / sloppy footwork / messy fighter / elegant fighter / accept defeat / refuse defeat / beg for mercy / compliment their opponent / insult their opponent / use unnecessary movements / move efficiently / barely move / prefer to dodge / prefer to block / defend their blindside / has no blindside / use all available advantages / strictly use one main method / play around / hold back / fight ruthlessly / show mercy / wait for opponent to be ready / strike when opponent isn’t ready / fear death  / fear pain / fear killing / has PTSD / avoid fighting / has lost a fight / has won a fight / has killed / refuses to kill / want to die standing / would succumb slowly

WIP Day

Tagged by @chyrstis and @hawkfurze !! Thank you for the tags!! :D <3

An excerpt from the current WIP chapter for ACABH: ————————— Weak. He was so weak, barely able to move right now, and he didn’t even know why. There was pain, a lot of pain, a feeling like his bones were on fire and about to crumble under pressure at any moment—but he’d been through worse. In this instance, he could recall that he’d fallen through the sky for a brief tumultuous time before gravity had stepped in, leading to him landing hard upon the road, as if making up for the lack of physics earlier. —————————

[jedi-mabari]

Happy New Year

Word Count:1150 Warnings:None A/N:So, I came up with this when I was writing little drabbles for a kissing thing, and just fell in love with the idea of Christopher Jones and Staci Pratt, and I was just to excited, so this has taken me all day even though it’s so short because I needed to keep taking breaks because I kept getting all squeely about it.

Summary:Christopher Jones volunteered to work New Year’s eve because he had nothing better to do. He wasn’t expecting to spend the evening with coworker and fellow deputy Staci Pratt, who has an ulterior motive for working late. _____________________________________________________________

Christopher had volunteered to stay in the office for New Year’s eve. He didn’t have any family in Montana, and he had few friends outside of work, so he didn’t really mind working the holiday. Everyone else, including Whitehorse and Nancy had spent the week talking about how excited they were for their families to come. Joey had plans with her girlfriend, some party in the city, so she had taken off early. The only person who had kept quiet about his plans was Pratt, which Christopher had thought was strange, considering Pratt just about never shut up about anything exciting going on in his life. When his cousin was having a kid, he yapped on about it for months.

Christopher sat behind his desk, reading old reports, waiting for the phone to ring with someone calling for help because someone had set a trailer off using illegal fireworks. Whitehorse had ducked out with a quick goodbye, and Nancy made a show of grabbing her bag and coat. Christopher chuckled to himself, freezing when Pratt set a glazed old fashioned and a cup of coffee on his desk. He looked up at his co-worker and smiled.

“Is this your apology for leaving me to do all this work on my own,” Christopher asked, chucking as he motioned to all the paperwork left on his desk.

“I would never dream of it,” Pratt said, taking a mug and a doughnut to his own desk. Christopher raised an eyebrow at him as he took a bite of the doughnut on his desk.

“You don’t have any fun plans,” Christopher asked, and Pratt shrugged.

“My mom is hosting the cookie party for her sewing circle, and I’d rather not have to sit with them and discuss the pros of a blanket stitch over a cable stitch.” They shared a chuckle, and Christopher shrugged.

“Well, it’s nice to have the company anyhow,” he said, turning back to his paperwork. Pratt put on some old country music so that they weren’t working in silence. They took turns getting snacks and coffee from the break room every half hour or so.

“Want a refill,” Christopher asked, and Pratt looked up from the open file in front of him.

“Sure,” he said, rubbing the exhaustion from his eyes. He lifted his mug for Christopher to take, and when their fingers brushed against each others, Pratt looked quickly back down at his paperwork, his cheeks turning pink. Christopher quickly left for the kitchen, turning away from Pratt to hide the bashful look on his own face. When he returned to the bullpen, he was carefully holding two mugs, both a doughnut balanced on top.

Pratt had moved his desk and was leaned against the side of Christopher’s desk. He was holding a folder in his hands, but it was closed, and he looked as if he had something on his mind. Christopher, never one to press for information, set Pratt’s coffee on his desk with a smile.

“I got you the last fritter. I know you’d prefer it was maple, but apple was what was in the box.”

“Thanks,” Pratt said, not looking up from the floor tile he had suddenly decided was so interesting. He chewed his lip for a moment, then smiled up at the junior deputy. He took a deep, steady breath. “Can I ask you something that might seem a little weird, probi?” Christopher rolled his eyes at the moniker and smiled before taking a sip from the cider he’d disguised as coffee.

“Go for it, Staci,” he said. He tried to move around the senior deputy, but was stopped by him standing straight and moving in front of him. Christopher shot him an inquisitive look. Pratt seemed to have lost all his nerve and took a step back, suddenly too close to the taller man. “Hey, man, you still here?” Staci swallowed hard and looked him in the eye.

“There was actually another reason I volunteered tonight,” he said, setting the file down just to shove his hands deep into his pockets. “Aside from the sewing circle cookie party.” Christopher waited patiently for Pratt to continue, allowing him time to collect his thoughts and form his words. Just when Christopher opened his mouth to ask for more information, Staci blurted out. “I mostly just wanted to spend more time with you.” He didn’t look at Christopher as he confessed this, and Christopher chuckled, setting his cider down on his desk.

“You could have just asked,” Christopher said, trying once again to get behind his desk. Pratt let out a little a frustrated sigh and grabbed Christopher’s arm.

“No I mean, not just at work. I kind of wanted to take you out for drinks.” Christopher laughed, and watched the horror creep onto Pratt’s face. He could tell he was regretting everything he had said, wishing he could take it all back, and Christopher quickly realized what he had meant.

“Shit,” Christopher said under his breath. He hadn’t realized Pratt had actually liked him, and now it was his turn to realize how close he was standing to Pratt, the smell of his cologne was pleasant and all he could see was Pratt’s face still a mask of horror at his boldness, and then the alarm on Christopher’s computer went off, and then the words ‘Happy New Year” was screaming in his head and it was all he could think to do.

His lips crashed against Staci’s, and the horror on Pratt’s face faded and the panic in Christopher’s chest was replaced with a warm sensation. Pratt removed his hands from his pocket, wrapping his arms around Christopher’s neck, pulling himself closer, and Christopher wrapped his arms around Pratt’s waist, pulling their hips together. It seemed like the kiss lasted for ages, but realistically, it was only a couple of seconds. When their lips separated, they pressed their foreheads together and they were both breathing pretty hard.

“Happy new years,” Christopher whispered, almost afraid to break the moment. Pratt kept his eyes closed, savoring the moment. It lasted until Staci loosened his arms wrapped around him, pulling back into himself. Christopher allowed him to move away, and cleared his throat. Pratt did the same, running a hand through his hair.

“So,” Pratt said, and Christopher chuckled nervously.

“Wanna go get a beer?” The question hung in the air between them, and Staci’s eyes lingering on Christopher’s lips. He chewed his own for a moment and nodded slowly.

“A beer sounds perfect,” he said, and Christopher grabbed his coat, heading for the front door. Pratt followed Christopher to the door, and they stopped. There was still mistletoe hanging from the door from Christmas, and both of the men blushed again. Christopher took Pratt’s hand, and leaned closer to him, and they shared one more kiss before heading off to the bar to celebrate with the rest of the town.

[words-and-seeds]

Joseph for the soft headcanon meme...... bonus points if you also do it for your oc 👀

alkdsfj a;slkdjfda;l ksdhf;al ksjdf a;lksef;alshdfa

I had like a whole thing written out and this stupid fucking piece of shit website ate it. I’m so mad.

kdfa kjsdfh

ANYWAY

From here:

Joseph:

So, in my headcanon, Joseph is prone to migraines. Hence the windowless church, the tinted glasses, and the dark room where he gives the eulogies. When he has migraines, Joseph is incredibly sensitive to light, sound, and smell. So he prefers unscented soaps, deodorants, and laundry soaps. Joseph just smells like Joseph. Clean sweat, a little musky, but it’s not unpleasant.

Delphine is the exception to his no scents rule. Her perfume is floral.

I’ve written before about a headcanon I have that one of their first dates, they went on a walk and Joseph picked a violet for her. Now she wears the floral perfume because the scent of violets reminds her of him, and vice versa.

What Joseph wears to bed is entirely dependent on what stage of life he’s in. When he was sleeping rough, he wore everything he owned to bed to sleep. He didn’t have a bed. When John found him, he started to sleep in the nude. It was a luxury, feeling cool sheets on his skin, sleeping in a room with AC. For another, he felt safe enough to disrobe. He didn’t have to sleep with one eye open, concerned that someone was going to steal what little he had, or shank him for a sleeping spot. When he got to Montana, he tried that, but lbr, it’s much too cold. He usually sleeps in pajama bottoms, either shirtless or with an undershirt.

When he and Del get to that stage, they do the couple thing where she wears the pajama tops, he wears the bottoms, and everyone is happy.

Obvs my favorite ship is Joseph x Del (but if I had to choose another, it would be Joseph x Regan, who belongs to the wonderful @josephseeds-rosary)

See, I don’t think any of the Seeds have friends (although you can pry the headcanon that John and Nick were friends when he first came to Hope County from my cold, dead hands)

Joseph has his siblings and his flock, and the Peggies revere him too much as a holy figure to be buddies. I feel like murder, looting, and kidnapping aside, he and Pastor Jerome could be friends. In another life...

That’s my headcanon. Non-cult AU, Joseph and Pastor Jerome like to go out, drink coffee, and debate about philosophy and theology. Sometimes they go to the Spread Eagle to play darts, and Joseph is the DD because he doesn’t drink. One time he hit the Arcade Guy with a dart, but no one knows if it was on purpose or not because they were all pretty wasted at that point.

Nature Boy - Aurora

OH OH OH ALSO Children’s Work - Dessa is such a Jacob and Joseph song. Everyone go listen to it and then come scream with me.

Joseph is an ambush predator, maybe one that uses aggressive mimicry - promising nourishment as a way of attracting prey. Uhhh, I’m going with Zone-Tailed Hawk on this one.

Joseph sleeps like he’s trying to grab all four corners of the bed at once, totally spread eagle. Del has to be the big spoon and curl up at his back or she gets shoved to the edge of the mattress.

Joseph is one of those weirdos who drinks room temperature tap water and enjoys it.

Therapy, a stable and supportive family, and just tons of love.

BONUS ROUND!

Delphine:

As mentioned before: floral perfume.

Del also likes really strong scents like sandalwood, lemongrass, and ylang ylang, but because of Joseph’s migraines, she quit using them.

Before Joseph, Del wore just about anything. Tank tops and shorts, t-shirts she stole from Staci and panties, or nightdresses. She’s not really a big fan of sleeping naked, so it has to be after Joseph has worn her out, when she’s a satisfied puddle on the bed and can’t be bothered to get up to dress. Joseph also really likes seeing her in his shirts, which is mainly why they just started divvying up pairs of pajamas.

Again, Joseph x Del is my otp. I don’t really see her working with anyone else in FC5 canon.

Another cute headcanon for them is that Joseph is totally a house husband. He loves staying home in New Eden with their little flock of children all around him. Del hogs all the babies, but once they hit toddler-preteen ages, there’s just constantly a little line of kids following him around like ducklings.

There’s bickering, of course - with eight children it’s hard to avoid - but it all comes from a place of love. His children have never known what it is to fear a parent, and they never will. They will never have cause to doubt that he loves them, very much. Del knows the same. After all, the Father’s love is unending, even after seventeen years.

Staci x Del is my brotp, dude. They grew up together, and after her family was killed, Del and her older sister went to live with the Pratts. (btw, I totally headcanon that Staci’s dad was a deputy, too) They live together, they work together. They’re the terrible twins, you hardly ever see one without the other.

Cute headcanon is that when Del had nightmares when she was younger, Staci was the first person she ran to. More often than not, his parents found them snuggled up together and she treated him more like a life size stuffed animal than a boy. She never got out of that habit.

Wishing Girl - Lola Marsh

Red Panda. Because they’re adorable and totally ridiculous.

Del used to always sleep on the right side of the bed, on her right side, in the fetal position. However, since Joseph doesn’t like sharing the mattress, she either has to be pressed up against his back or on top of him like a very heavy blanket if she doesn’t want to get shoved off the bed.

Del likes to say she’s a coffee fiend, but she can’t actually drink it black. She likes lots of milk and sugar in it to make it palatable. She also doesn’t drink alcohol.

She and Joseph need tickets to Tahiti.

[papa-rhys]

New Dawn: Where are they now?

Here are my headcanons for what Hope County folk would be up to in New Dawn (if they all survived). I stuck to main characters (catergory 1 and 2) for this and I didn’t count anyone who died in fc5 canon because there’s 100% no chance they’d be in New Dawn and this is meant to be a “what I expect from X character if they appear in ND” thing. If I missed any important people out, then let me know and I’ll see about adding them in!

Holland Valley

Mary May Fairgrave: Lives in Prosperity, even though she doesn’t enjoy it as she can’t quite shake the thought that John used to live there. She runs a makeshift bar in the kitchen. She tells everyone that it’s because it boosts the morale of the people living there, but really it’s because she misses the connection that the Spread Eagle had to her parents. She grew up behind the bar, so in the first 10 or so years after the bombs fell, when she was kept away from the Spread Eagle, she didn’t feel like herself. Making her own replica of the Spread Eagle in John’s old kitchen makes her feel like she’s a little closer to home.

Jerome Jeffries: In charge of Prosperity. He lead a few people to John’s ranch to look for shelter after they crawled out of their bunkers and as the group has steadily grown in size, they all look to him as the founder/man in charge. He doesn’t like to sit indoors and let people do his bidding though, so if he sends someone out on a supply run or a job, he’ll likely go with them. Otherwise, he feels like a bossy control freak who doesn’t care about his people and just has them running around and working themselves to the bone for him. It makes him feel too much like Joseph and he obviously hates that.

Casey Fixman: Casey still cooks for the people of Prosperity primarily (also sending nice home cooked meals to the Wolf’s Den once a week as a treat for the remaining Whitetails), but he also provides valuable knowledge about combat and the inner workings of human beings. He’s a very knowledgeable guy and Jerome can often be found having hush-hush meetings with him behind the kitchen whenever Jerome needs advice on how to handle a problem.

Nick Rye: Nick looks after the kids of Prosperity. He doesn’t fly much anymore as he’s found happiness in other things, like spending time with his family and looking out for the children that were born into this new world. He finds it incredibly rewarding to give them some kind of normality in the form of reading to them or playing hopscotch with them in the grass – things that he believes all kids should do.

Kim Rye: Kim works with Nick as a duo. Whilst he has fun with the kids, she gives them an education. She teaches them basic things, like reading, writing, maths (the important bits), etc. But she also teaches them basic (and age-appropriate) combat. Among other things, she teaches them how to hold a knife, how to fire a gun, and how to break free if someone grabs them. She loves working with the kids and takes pride in knowing that she’s helping them to stay safe. Nick is also super proud of the work she does and tells her everyday, of course.

Carmina Rye: Much to Kim and Nick’s misery, Carmina is a total brawler and is always desperate to go out on runs with the supply team. She wants to explore the world outside the walls of Prosperity and meet new people, often sneaking out of Prosperity and scaring her parents to death. She gets into trouble with Hudson a lot, mainly for silly teenage pranks or generally causing trouble. She likes Wheaty a whole lot and always finds an excuse to go with the trading team when they deliver things to the Wolf’s Den. She denies that it’s a crush, but it 100% is. Safe to say Nick doesn’t like Wheaty much anymore.

Grace Armstrong: Grace runs an adult combat training program. The kids get basic training from Kim, but once they get to a certain age, they move up to the adult tier, where Grace will give them full training. Including, but not limited to: how to use all types of firearm, how to properly use knives, how to fight without weapons, how to free yourself from restraints, different signals used in combat (and what they mean), and how to stealth kill. She’s basically doing the same job as Jacob, except she does it way better than he ever could.

Joey Hudson: Hudson is still a cop! She’d live in Prosperity and she’d patrol the place and make sure that everyone is getting on okay. She’d handle any arguments and disputes that people had, because even though they’re all on the same side, they’re still bound to fight. So she keeps the peace. She has a shorter fuse these days and has a tendency to get mad at people pretty quickly sometimes, but everyone knows what she went through and they cut her some slack, knowing that she doesn’t mean any harm.

Whitetail Mountains

Tammy Barnes: Tammy lives in the Wolf’s Den and still does the same kind of stuff. She “handles” what’s left of the cultists and still looks after Wheaty (who is now 36 years old and still doesn’t do his own laundry). She’s toned it down with the torture in recent years though, and has more time to do mundane things (like cooking, cleaning, and spending time with Wheaty) which she finds a lot of solace in doing. She also managed to find her true calling – knitting copious amounts of scarfs that Wheaty wouldn’t be caught dead in, although he appreciates the sentiment.

Wheaty: Wheaty now runs what’s left of the Whitetail Militia out of the Wolf’s Den. He went straight to the bunker when the bombs hit and after things had settled, he focused his efforts on rounding up as many of the remaining Whitetails as he could, desperate to hold onto Eli’s legacy. Now he trades with Prosperity and offers the help of his men and women should Prosperity ever need it (and vice-versa). When he’s not swamped with work and making sure his people are safe as they scavenge for supplies, he’s winding down by watching old tapes of Eli’s favourite TV show or home videos of Eli and his family celebrating Christmas or birthdays. He also still enjoys his music; often playing records for Tammy - the same ones that the Deputy collected for him all those years ago.

Hurk Jr: Still resides in Fort Drubman, which he’s built upon and fortified since his dad’s death. He doesn’t really do much outside of shooting at beer bottles and setting off rockets in his backyard, which he claims to have a good reason for beyond “it’s a whole heap of fun, amigo.” He occasionally works as a hired gun, helping out on supply runs for the Whitetail Militia whenever they need someone a little more… “heavy-handed.” In exchange, they give him a fraction of the supplies that were found (which is increased if he sustains an injury on the run). Other than that, he’s all about “kicking back and gettin’ buzzed, man.”

Jess Black: Jess lives in the wilderness, setting up her camp in a different place each night. She makes an effort to stay pretty clear of other people, suspecting that human beings have only gotten more dangerous since the end of the world. Tammy gets in contact with her from time to time, just to make sure she’s okay (after Eli and Dutch died, Tammy took on the responsibility of checking in on Jess), but other than that, Jess rarely has contact with people. She dedicates all of her time to surviving in the wilderness and any spare time that she has is spent on hunting and crafting. I could see her sat in front of a campfire crafting arrows or cooking a rabbit for her dinner. She doesn’t really care for anything else and is more than happy to live a secluded life alone in the forests of Hope County.

Staci Pratt: Pratt needs something calm, easy, and mundane ever since his brains were scrambled by Jacob. He can’t handle stress anymore and isn’t safe enough to be in combat or unsupervised around people. So he assists Casey in the kitchen, cooking food for Prosperity, which he enjoys more than he thought he would. In his spare time, he likes to read – mainly because it helps him to practice focusing his mind. He struggles picking out individual thoughts, often jumbling things together and getting stressed out by it. So reading a book and forcing himself to take time focusing on each individual sentence is really helpful for him. He also enjoys the escapism and seeing characters get happy endings. Other than reading, he likes spending time with friends; especially Hudson, who he feels very connected to after going through similar things.

Henbane River

Earl Whitehorse: He tried to secure the prison after getting out of his bunker, but it was too far gone, so he moved on to Prosperity. For a while, he acted as Sheriff of Prosperity, helping Hudson keep the peace in the ever-growing settlement. But he eventually began thinking of the apocalypse as his second chance. He figured that if he survived the war in Hope County, the Bliss, and then the nukes, then that has to mean something. And he didn’t want to waste his new lease of life on doing the same thing he’d been doing for the previous 30+ years. So now he spends most of his days fishing in the river behind Prosperity, providing fresh (albeit oddly coloured and disproportionate) fish for Casey to cook and providing himself with a taste of the well-deserved retirement that he never got to see.

Tracey Lader: Tracey has a whole lot of anger to share with her enemies (and people in general) so she found her place as a soldier. She acts as one of Jerome’s most trusted lieutenants and is second in command (and sometimes completely in charge, when Jerome isn’t there) of most of the supply run teams that are sent out. She debated going it alone like Jess for a while, but she ultimately likes human contact too much to live like that – no matter how annoying people can be sometimes. She’s pretty busy running the show for Jerome, so she doesn’t get much spare time, but when she does, she spends it in her room, brooding.

Sharky Boshaw: Sharky goes back and forth between locations; sometimes living in Prosperity, and sometimes living in Fort Drubman with Hurk. He still likes fire. A lot. But he contributes a little more to the grouthan he used to, using his “creative genius” (his words) to devise traps for enemies, ideally keeping said enemies as far away from the walls of Prosperity as possible. There’s sharpened branches, there’s tripwires, and most importantly; there’s fire. In his spare time, he messes around with Hurk, getting up to all kinds of trouble and not being inconspicuous in the slightest – much to Jerome’s dismay.

Adelaide Drubman: Adelaide is 83 years old now so it’s a miracle she’s still alive and you best believe she doesn’t let anybody forget it. She’s still rampantly horny, but doesn’t have the energy to keep up with her own needs anymore. So she spends most of her days messing with people around Prosperity; picking on them and getting a kick out of getting adverse reactions from them. She’s quite close with Carmina Rye (unfortunately for Nick and Kim), who keeps her feeling young, and Carmina finds her hilarious. The pair can often be found sat on the front steps of the former ranch, giggling at passers by and enjoying some time away from the destruction and misery.

[chloe-gayzer]

for the angst asks.... all of them. for mitali. and adora. >:)

okaaaaaaaaaaaay this was a LONG one lucy. but i did it. gonna put most of it behind a readmore tho

What would your OC’s last words be/what are they?

Adora: I don’t have exacts. She dies in her sleep when she’s rather old. Her last words are probably something to Jess before bed. Maybe something simple like “I love you.” Maybe instead of saying goodnight, she sort of knows she won’t wake up, so she says “I love you. Goodbye.”Mitali: I haven’t really thought of how she’ll die. If she dies fighting, her last words might be swears. Actually, she would probably die fighting. Protecting her own. I could imagine her staying behind in some situation to make time for who she’s helping. She’d fight to the death to keep her people safe. Her last words would be something along the lines of “Get somewhere safe. I’ll hold them off.” (as a quick side note, i haven’t beat New Dawn yet, so im not sure what’s going on ending wise).

What would break your OC beyond repair? Has it happened?

Adora: OKAY so I have an AU where Adora actually is The Judge (my usual canon is it’s Pratt). The thing that would break Adora the most is Jess seeing her as the Judge. She’d break to pieces if the people she loved had to see her like that. Especially if it’s Jess seeing her. She’d feel as though she’s betrayed everything she once stood for, everything she and Jess did together.Mitali: Mitali has already been broken a few times. She wasn’t long out of a bunker when her mothers were killed. That was the first. She was alone for awhile after that. After she joined up with Rush’s people, she ended up in love with a woman, but she was killed on the train.  At this point, she’d have to suffer multiple breaks at once to be beyond repair. Losing people important to her is her breaking point.

What is your OC’s worst memory?

Adora: She remembers her birth parents. She occasionally has nightmares about them, even as long out as New Dawn. She was adopted when she was around three or four. She had been badly abused before that and her back is covered in scars, so her worst memories are getting them. One thing that kept her going through spearheading the resistance is knowing she’d been through worse before she had lost her first tooth.Mitali: Watching her parents get killed. They’d been out of the bunker for maybe six months. She got away, but it didn’t really matter after that.

Does your OC have nightmares? What do they contain?

Adora: She has periods in her life where nightmares are more prevalent. She went to therapy when she was able until she moved to Hope County, and that helped, but after everything against the peggies, she definitely had constant nightmares in the bunker. Sometimes they’d be about her birth parents, but sometimes it might be things hunting her in the dark. Occasionally, she’ll have nightmares about Faith. Not Faith speaking to her, but what Faith went through. The drugs and abuse and what-not.Mitali: She has nightmares fairly often. Mostly being blamed for things she couldn’t stop. Other times it’s just standard “can’t move while things happen to her” dreams.

Your OC is facing their worst enemy. Who/what is it?

Adora: Fuck, Joseph Goddamn Seed. She despises that man. She’d have ripped his heart out if she got the chance. Who cares if he changed a bit between 5 and New Dawn? He still killed his infant, hour old daughter, still fucked with Faith (and the women who were “Faith” before her), killed so many innocents, and condoned his siblings torturing people.Mitali: Ugh is it cliche if I say herself? There’s a lot of things she needs to work on.

What would get your OC to make themselves disappear?

Adora: In a way, Adora did disappear. She’d never advertise that she was the deputy. The only people that know are her close friends and family; Jess, Grace, Hudson, the Ryes.Mitali: She’s just go. All she would need to do is head east and no one would know her. Let her accent bleed through more than she usually does and she’s got a new life out there.

Does your OC have any weaknesses? Have these ever been exploited?

Adora: She acts like she doesn’t, but mentions of physical abuse can make things bad for her. No one has used it, but if someone were to somehow know her history and talk about her birth parents abusing her, it’d fuck her up really bad.Mitali: Despite claiming she has no connections and what not, her weakness is people. The people she loves, the people who are her friends. Right before the (first?) siege of Prosperity, the twins used that against her. Threatening Carmina as well as those children.

What is the closest your OC has come to death?

Adora: Pick one. She nearly died at age three when her birth mother hit her just a little harder than usual. She was taken from them after that.  Or how about the many, many times in Hope County? The helicopter crash, the near drowning, the Bliss overdoses, and the frequent kidnapping. Having Wrath carved into her chest. There’s more.Mitali: She’s had plenty. Her first was probably getting attacked by a wolf when she was on her own around 16 years old, after her mothers died. She won, but barely. And then she’s got the bits in New Dawn. More near drowning!

What is the greatest sacrifice your OC could ever make? Under what circumstance would they make it?

Adora: Letting Joseph Seed go. She wants more than anything to kill him. Pulling herself back and, not forgiving, but letting go that grudge in order to leave Hope County and move on with her life is a huge thing for her. Sacrificing the closure of ending it. The circumstance she makes it under is finding somewhere safer, where she, her girlfriend, and anyone else who joins them, can find comfort and support.Mitali: Herself. She would give herself, for the right reasons. She would do it for the people she protects. If something happened and she couldn’t ensure the safety of her people, or specifically, the small group of friends she’s made (the Ryes, Grace, Gina and her baby, Savannah, all of them), she’d stay behind to give them the chance to escape. She’d give her life so she didn’t have to lose anyone again.

What is the worst loss your OC has suffered?

Adora: The end of Far Cry 5 :/Mitali: Again, her mothers. She was barely past being a child when she lost them.

Your OC is forced to kill a member of their family or a friend. Who do they choose, and why?

Adora: I wanna joke and say Sharky, but I really think she’d kill herself. But if it’s blood family, she’d kill one of her birth parents. They deserve it.Mitali: Family wise, she has none. Friend wise, most are dead with the train crash. She’d kill herself before she killed any of the Ryes. If it has to be an actual friend, she’d have to go Gina, but she’d make sure it was a face to face fight, not a sudden knife to the back.

To what extent would your OC go to survive?

Adora: Fighting, she’ll do near anything. Surviving, it really depends. If it’s her on her own, she’ll do anything. If there are others with her, she’s more likely to forgo food so they can eat. Think Nina from Bioshock 2, starving herself so the kids can live longer.Mitali: As far as she has to. There’s little she hasn’t done to keep herself alive when she was living alone. It was probably four years as a teenager that she was alone in the woods. You do what you have to.

Has your OC suffered trauma?

Adora: Her entire life except like. The parts with her dads or her gf.Mitali: Watching her parents die is probably the biggest.

Would your OC let themselves be forced into a loveless marriage?

Adora: Hell no.Mitali: Mmmmmmmaybe. Lots a conditions there. It’s unlikely though, cause her biggest dream is having a wife and a child.

How far would you OC go to protect their loved ones?

Adora & Mitali, because it’s the same for both: Yes. Yes is how far.

Your OC has exactly 15 minutes to live. What is their last act?

Adora: She’d just want to be held by Jess until she passed. Hearing aids in, if only to hear Jess’s voice.Mitali: Idk, she’d probably pick a fight with the nearest Highwaymen. The Twins if she could.

What is your OC’s greatest failure?

Adora: She considers her biggest failure being not killing Joseph Seed. She wants him dead more than anything, but she failed and has to live with it.Mitali: She considers the train her biggest failure.

What is the worst possible ending for your OC and why?

Adora: When she’s taken and turned into the Judge, She loses too much of herself. Almost anything else would be better.Mitali: The worst for Mitali would probably be… ending up a Highwaymen or something similar. Going against her morals, killing the innocents she once protected, and not caring. Becoming the rash, chaotic, and violent type of person she usually fights.

What is your OC’s preferred method of death?

Adora: Something painless. She wouldn’t care what, but she’d want it painless and she wouldn’t want to be cold.Mitali: She’d want to go down fighting. Something bloody and tiring and altogether only just able to overwhelm her after she’s already put up too much of a fight.

How does your OC sleep at night?

Adora: Depends on where she is. If she’s in the bunker she uses, she can sleep through the night most of the time. If Jess is in bed with her, she’s comfortable and gets a full night’s rest. If she’s not in the bunker, she’s got it a little harder to fall asleep and much easier to wake.Mitali: She tosses and turns a lot.The smallest sound can wake her, which is why she prefers not to sleep in Prosperity. The bunk rooms are too noisy for her. It’s only when she can share a bed with Savannah can she get any real sleep there at all.

What is the worst thing your OC has done?

Adora: She feels, despite the conditions of Faith’s death and what Faith had done, that killing Faith was one of the worst things. Maybe the worst. It has to do with their similar background: abused and used and eventually adopted-- But where Adora’s fathers gave her a loving home and helped her recover, Faith’s new brothers got her further into her addiction and made everything worse. Adora hates that she had to kill Faith. She would’ve rather tried to help. Mitali: How she killed the men who killed her mothers. It wasn’t slow and it wasn’t quick.

What is your OC the most guilty about?

Adora: Not calling her fathers before she went on the job to arrest Joseph.Mitali: Bringing her girlfriend with her when they headed on the train for Prosperity.

Would your OC be considered good or bad by an outsider?

Adora: Good, probably. She’s a warm, smiley sort of person.Mitali: Bad, until they got to know her. She’s pretty grumpy and swears a good deal.

Who does your OC hate most?

Adora: Joseph Seed!!!Mitali: She’s full of self hate if that counts.

What does your OC love most, and what would they do to keep it?

Adora: Adora Addicks loves, with all her heart and soul, one lovely Jessica Black, and would do anything at all to keep her. She’s not materialistic, but she would and has killed a man for Jess.Mitali: After the bombs, there isn’t much physically that she could lay claim on and be attached to. If she has to be attached to an object, it’d be her shotgun. But her love… it’s a limited supply thing. She tries not to do that sort of thing because she often loses it soon after. But she loves the Ryes and what they’ve done for her. And she’s fighting an entire gang to keep them.

Has your OC ever had unrequited feelings of any kind for someone?

Adora: She definitely had a baby gay crush on Grace. Definitely had a few crushes on girls in high school that just weren’t meant to be. The woman who taught her to spar was her idol for a while too.Mitali: Admittedly I’d count how Mitali feels for Kim. There’s other women in her past too, but they’re just faces for her at this point. She’d do anything for Kim. Which is why she got Nick back as soon as she could.

How does your OC deal with rejection?

Adora: She pouts for a bit but gets some space so she can clear her head and feel better.Mitali: She’s used to it. Might have a few drinks, but no more.

Would your OC ever reject someone?

Adora: Literally any man. She’s a lesbian after all.Mitali: Once more, she’d reject literally any man. She might be okay with like… a platonic marriage with Rush? More of a “we’re partners and we’re close but we don’t do that whole sex thing”. Maybe raise a kid with him. But every other man would be a big old NO.

Why does your OC have the flaws that they have?

Adora: She can be spiteful. She might bury the hatchet, but she also remembers where she did. She sees spite as getting back at those who’ve wronged her but in a creative way. For example, she lives happily as a deaf woman, often without wearing her hearing aides, because her birth parents often hit her for “not listening”. But she can’t listen, and she’s happy with who she is. She doesn’t need to hear.Mitali: She’s an angry person. It stems from trauma in her teens and not being able to properly socially develop between 16 and 20.

Would your OC kill?

Adora: Doesn’t like to, but she has and would again.Mitali: She was only 15 when she killed her first person.

Would your OC torture?

Adora: If the right reasons were there or if she was too in her emotions.Mitali: Definitely.

Does your OC hate? To what extent?

Adora: Yes. To the extent she wants to kill Joseph with her bare hands.Mitali: Definitely. To the extent she’s killed people she hated in gruesome ways out of revenge.

How does your OC let out anger?

Adora: She takes a break and goes fishing. It calms her down and lets her think things out.Mitali: She might go hunting. Could be for deer, could be for highwaymen. Maybe for something monstrous if she needs a challenge. Probably takes Gina with her for whatever she’s fighting.

[lulu2992]

@thereverberationof-blog

Thank you for your reply. All the articles you wrote are interesting vinegar. I see, there are differences in acting etc. depending on the language. I'm really happy to hear that. To be honest, I also cannot accept "New Dawn" and "Joseph collapse" as canonical history of "5". I will explain why I thought that Nick in the Japanese version of "New Dawn" was different from "5". In 5, when Nick calls the sheriff for the first time, he uses "you" in the second person, and only during the battle to protect Kim does he use the word "buddy". However, when New Dawn's Nick met his captain for the first time, he used the second person term, such as "buddy." I didn't understand what it meant. Because as long as I played 5, it seemed like Nick didn't have that kind of personality. *Calling someone "buddy（Aibo）" in Japanese is proof that you trust them. Jacob refers to the Female Deputy in the arcade as "honey" or "angel," but when he uses those words in Japanese, it just seems like he's picking on someone of the opposite sex, so he uses "you" in all cases. He also never calls Pratt "Peach." In Japanese, for a man of Jacob's age to be called something like that gives a rather casual impression. Other than that, there was the fact that Joseph had a hand in female believers, and as long as I played the Japanese version, I couldn't understand that. Of course, I think it's true that many cult leaders have their hands on their followers. However, if that's the case, it feels odd that Faith doesn't mention it before she dies. Is it only the face that is special? As far as I've researched actual cults, the most dangerous one is Faith. There are other things I'd like to say, but to be honest, I didn't like the New Dawn scenario, and it wasn't fun to play. So maybe that's what you think… Sorry for the long post. I like Far Cry 5. There's no one around you who takes things as seriously as you do. Thank you for reading. (1/2)

Oh, sorry for the previous post. Nick refers to the second person when he calls the main character. "Partner" and "buddy" may have been mixed together. In Japanese, Nick refers to the main character as ``相棒''. It's called Aibo. I don't really understand the nuance of partner/buddy/sidekick when translated into English. Also, I didn't understand why Nick was attracted to Dep. Even though they became friends in New Eden, they were really good friends in 5. Also, Carmina's godfather is supposed to be Dep… Other characters may only see the Judge as a victim. I didn't feel any discomfort with the translations of Hark, Sharkey, etc., so why? That's what I felt. If you don't feel it in French or English, maybe there was some kind of purpose in the voice actor's performance or translation. Also, since it was a long post, I left most of it to Google Translate. Sorry if there's something that doesn't make sense! (2/2)

Thanks again! I’m glad you like my posts :) And for the same reasons as New Dawn (inconsistencies), the Collapse DLC isn’t canon to me either…

Okay, I understand why Nick seemed different to you in Japanese, and it looks like it was because of the translation. I don’t speak Japanese, but from what I know, there are many pronouns and honorifics used in very specific contexts, so the ones the localization team picks can create a nuance/feeling that wasn’t originally there in English. It’s indeed super interesting!

And sometimes, it’s the opposite: some innuendos, puns, or references get lost in translation, either because localization teams miss them or because they simply can’t be translated. I personally don’t think Joseph got involved with his female followers, but some people believe it’s what “I put my faith inside her” in Faith’s eulogy hinted at in English. I’ve already talked about this but, in French and several other languages, the (presumed) double meaning is completely absent. One word can really change everything.

When you mentioned the fact that Nick gradually became friendlier with the Deputy in English, it made me realize something about the French version. So, in my language, to say “you”, we either use “tu” or “vous”. “Tu” is singular and used among friends, family members, or usually to address children. “Vous” is either plural or singular, and in the second case, it’s more formal and polite than “tu”. You use “vous” to address someone you’ve just met, aren’t very familiar with, or to talk to a superior, for example.

When Nick addresses the Deputy in the French version, he still often calls them “partenaire” (“partner”) but he only uses the pronoun “vous”, so that creates a distance between them that originally didn’t exist! The other Gun For Hire who always uses “vous” is Grace, but Adelaide, Jess, Hurk, and Sharky say “tu”. I’m not sure why the French localization team made this choice, but again, I think it’s interesting that these differences exist.

About Jacob, in French, he doesn’t use nicknames in Arcade either. No “honey” or “angel” for us… And when he calls Pratt “peaches”, what he says in French is “mon grand”, which is usually an affectionate term used to address little boys. In the context of the scene, though, it’s clearly sarcastic and belittling. He’s basically saying, “Let the grown-ups talk.”

As for the Judge in New Dawn, in French, it seems to me that Hurk and Nick aren’t as uncomfortable around them as they are in English. Nick’s tone is more casual when he asks them if they’re okay in Prosperity, and Hurk doesn’t sound that scared during their “conversation” at Roughneck’s Crag, just confused.

So yes, it’s truly fascinating how playing a game in one language instead of another can make us see things differently!