#deputyscreed

[whitetail-wheaty]

@deputyscreed​ replied to your post “Like any good teenage boy, Wheaty will discover aftershave and use...”

Everyone shares the bunker space. WHEATY PLEASE.

“... I lived here before you. And if you are at it, just get me Eli’s instead, we all know you’re a sucker for whatever he uses.”

[carminaxrye]

Judge “*waves at*”

Silent action starters:

It was nice to see the Judge around Prosperity more, not just hanging out by Roughneck’s Crag. 

Jogging across the grass to kick the old tattered football back at one of the kids, Carmina grinned and waved back.

“You should hang around tonight, I think mom’s having a barbecue for the whole outpost, figure that means Hurk and Sharky are supplying the alcohol … could be fun?”

[justxsayxyes]

‘ look at my little fanclub. ’

[refinedstorage]

Thank you so much for your art posts and such, they are giving me great inspiration for mood boards I have to design for a game i'm developing so THANK YOU YOUR BLOG IS A GIFT.

That's so cool, thank you! T.T <3 Sometimes I feel like a magpie liking random stuff left and right... Now I'm super curious about your project 👀✨

[iscariotsdeputy]

✉ - poet Jacob's bunker please :D he k them in dutches bunker please!

Manhandling Symbol Starters✉ - push my muse back down when they try to get out of bed (perhaps involving illness, injury, or sleep deprivation)

    “Rook. S-Sam. Let m-me up.” Staci closed his eyes and tried to ignore the hand on his chest, the one that gave him a gentle shove back onto the bed. He wasn’t supposed to get up, whatever that meant. His leg was acting up again, so what? He still needed to get up and occupy himself. If he had to spend one more minute in bed, he was going to scream.

    “I can g-get up. I n-ne-need to do something. Need to w-workk. I’l g-g-go sta-st-sta-stack the b-bo-boxes. I c-ca-can take st-sto-stock of our rations. Just l-le-let me be useful. Let me d-do something.” Staci once again pushed up, wobbling when he put pressure on his left leg. “I promise I w-won’t fuck this u-up.”

[peacefulapostlearchive]

When she'd stumbled into Cascade Hills, wavering and struggling from the bliss she'd expected to be hunted down, and come to strapped into a chair or half-dead in a field. (Experience from Jacob and Faith speaking.) What she didn't expect was to wake up somewhere comfortable and with no restraints. The bliss is still heady and making her say things she otherwise wouldn't, like, "You're too nice for this place. For everything." One hand reaches out, fingers barely brushing a pant leg, "Thanks."

paul has come to understand what happens to people who lose their way  .  mentally and physically  .  they come here to hope county and they either comply or they lose their lives . its simple but all of it still makes no sense to the apostle . all the violence and demanding of atonement as well as why anyone would be FORCED into any of it  .  his brothers are sick and they need help  .  and he hopes he’s able to make that change before its too late  .  

all he wants is for the violence and the chaos to stop because he didn’t come to hope county for any of it  .  this was supposed to be a new beginning and somewhere he could HEAL . instead its only become a festering sore left open for infection and rotting  . somehow though  ,  its still the only place he’s EVER felt like he’s had . 

and when he helps others  ,  paul feels like he’s making a difference . that what he does actually matters because hope county truly does need all the hope it can get  .  when the woman he found on the borders of cascade  ,  she’s been put through whatever form of bliss his family could manage but he’s given her time to rest and come down from it  though the fog would still be present  .  luckily cascade is bliss free  ,  that should help  .  her fingers brush against his pant leg when she awakes  .  her words coax a soft smile even if he’s not sure if she can see him through possibly blurred vision . “ maybe i’m exactly where i need to be  .  we can talk a bit more later  .  you need more rest  .  “ 

[only-we]

“I needed to kill him. Maybe I was just hoping that he would kill me.“ 😎

She had done it. The Deputy had done what Jacob had trained her to do. His calloused bloody hands ran through her hair, smoothing the tangled strands. The blood came from her hair. Dirty and sweaty, clinging to her face. She had passed this final trial.

“Sh, sh, sh...”

Jacob leaned down, shushing her as he whispered into her ear.

“You did well… you said it yourself. You needed to kill him. And you did.”

A soft chuckle rumbled from his throat. This was delicious. She was still having fight in her veins. But it was seeping out slowly. Like the life had faded from Eli.

“He didn’t, though. Use that. Use that knowledge, Samantha. He didn’t kill you, despite you hoping for it. But you killed him, despite him hoping you wouldn’t. He begged, even. Pleaded you. But you… you showed your true colors. Showed him what you truly are: a perfectly bred hunter. My perfectly bre dhunter.”

[absolveres]

deputyscreed asked: “ i don’t want to know. ”

( @deputyscreed​ / phrases that hit where it hurts )

    ❝ Really? ❞

    A touch of surprise spills into his voice. John clicks his tongue admonishingly, giving a shake of his head at her. He’s never had the upperhand ripped away from him so quickly. In some ways, it’s admirable -- if not for the desperate fury pounding away at his ribcage. The second his plane began to go down was the second he felt fucked.

    He hasn’t shaken that, yet. John recognizes he might be staring his death in the face -- rather than hers. He had no choice but to stop, her pursuit too close, that he’d rather face her directly than to continue against the clock to his bunker.

    ( he wouldn’t make it )

    And so he keeps a short distance from her, attempting to use his words as a distraction -- to remind her what she’s actively fighting against. He should have buried her by now, had it not been for Joseph. And this cat and mouse game is only fun when he has control.

    ❝ What is this?  If you don’t know, then it’s not real? It won’t still highlight every one of your failures, start to finish? You can cover your ears to drown it out, but it won’t stop, ❞ he utters a soft chuckle, sardonic, bitter.  ❝ You can kill me and it won’t. ❞

[walriding]

💧 ⏰ 👻 🍟 💅

thought provoking hc meme || accepting

💧 - How would your muse react to losing a best friend? How would they cope?

      It depends entirely on the circumstances. For one thing, Miles doesn’t exactly have many friends these days, let alone any that come to mind as the ‘best’ one. But assuming he did lose someone who fit that description, his reaction would be influenced by the nature of the person’s death. If a loved one were to die tragically -- in an accident, from an illness, etc. -- he’d likely try to investigate the circumstances himself as a way to ‘work through’ and process an awful event. Anger would be a prevalent emotion. If their death was something expected, he’d still spend time looking at all the angles, but he’d be quicker to accept what happened. Either way, Miles tends to internalize most of his emotions, and unless you’re close to him it’s unlikely that he’d be very open about how the death impacted him on an emotional or psychological level. He has a very good poker face. However, once the grief lessened, he’d want to remember the person. He might go through pictures and create an album, or save things that reminded him of them. Keeping a record of sorts would help him cope, and allow him to recall and reestablish a connection with the person he’d lost. 

⏰ - Does your muse feel like they need to do things quickly or do they take their time?

      In spite of how impulsive he may seem, when it comes to things that matter, Miles is a planner. At least, when something he takes seriously is concerned. When it comes to work, for example, he’s thorough with his background research before he jumps into something personally. Even a simple interview likely had a lot of reading and investigating done beforehand to bolster his understanding of a situation. But once he’s made up his mind about something, he dives in with both feet and doesn’t hesitate. His presence at Mount Massive is a perfect example of this. He’d spent years researching Murkoff, trying to dig up whatever dirt he could find -- so when a perfect opportunity dropped itself in his lap by way of that anonymous email, he didn’t want to waste any time in heading there to investigate. But in that respect, the choice to go to the asylum wasn’t impulsive. It was just the culmination of a hell of a lot of work that hadn’t yielded any tangible results.

👻 - Does your muse believe in an afterlife? What do they think it’s like?

      If you ask him about it he’ll say no, that most everything to do with religion is bullshit, but deep down it’s hard to shake off the beliefs you grew up with. Miles was raised Catholic, and although he was never much of a believer -- and has completely stopped identifying himself as a Christian -- he still remembers a lot of the church’s teachings. The concept of heaven and hell was a prevalent one, and some part of Miles does still have a little faith in that post-death existence. Sometimes it’s comforting to consider the possibility of being reunited with loved ones in death, of a peaceful and eternal afterlife -- and yeah, sometimes it’s also nice to think about certain people being relegated to Hell for all eternity. But on the whole, it’s not an active belief so much as it is a lingering leftover of his upbringing.

🍟 - How does your muse feel about their body? Would they change it if they could?

      Anything he’s really desperate to change isn’t something he’s able to change. Miles has always been sensitive about looking his age -- or older -- and puts a fair amount of stock in his appearance in general, which has lead to some vanity issues and moderate narcissism. He dyes his hair to hide the grays, tries to adhere to a good skincare routine, and generally takes pride in looking good. Physically, he’s never been a star athlete or bodybuilder. He jogs to stay in shape -- although it doesn’t do a hell of a lot now thanks to the Walrider -- but he’s never been overly concerned about his weight or appearance in that respect. He’s got the typical body of a guy in his late 30s. Little soft around the middle, but he’s alright with that. It’s the bigger things that bother him. All of the scars, all of the thing that he knows make him look wrong and remind him of being dead. He’d change all of it in a heartbeat, because there’s nothing particularly empowering about the sight of your body reminding you of a horrific, life-ending moment. He hates the bullet scars, hates the fact that he’s missing fingers, hates every single reminder of Mount Massive that’s etched and burrowed into his skin. If there was a way to get rid of those markings, he wouldn’t have second thoughts about doing it.

💅 - How does your muse feel about gender roles? Do they conform to them, or do they play by their own rules?

      He thinks they’re pretty fucking stupid, and he doesn’t really try to consciously conform to them or break them. Miles does what he does and likes what he likes without caring about how he might be perceived by other people. You could argue that his self-care routine and his penchant for bubble baths are more feminine than masculine, but again, it isn’t something he does on purpose. He just likes those things, plain and simple. On the other hand, there are habits and attitudes of his that might be read as being more masculine. Miles just doesn’t see the point in relegating everything to a pointless binary. Similarly, in relationships, he never feels the need to assert himself or be dominate or any other qualities that are associated with wearing the pants in the relationship, so to speak. Gender roles are for squares.

[hecaatomb-blog]

Some meme im way too lazy to look for || @deputyscreed

❝ i hate small talk. ❞ // feel free to ignore~

Settling in a chair across from the cell the deputy was currently being held in, Jacob tilts his head some to the side, simply watching the other for a few moments. "Did you know human beings need interaction? " he finally questions. "We go through with this FACADE of not needing anyone. We're independent. We're strong. You see. When you're in a Squadron, you have to rely on other humans. Interaction is the key. It keeps you alive. "

There's a pause as he points at Creed, tsking soon after. "When that silence sets in is when you should really worry. Nothing good ever comes from silence. " Standing then, the Wolf makes his way towards the cell, one of his hands wrapping around a bar while the other slips inside his jacket, pulling out the small music box. "Luckily for you, deputy. I'm a giving person. I'll give you that needed social  interaction. "

[eli-whitetail]

‘are you still in there?’ :3

Playlist starters (part 3):

Oh he was in here. He was in here because that was where he was supposed to be, where he was instructed to be. Where he belonged.

There was a use for him now. A cause.

The mud squelched beneath his boots and the rain pattered down on the Veteran’s Center, making the night perfect for sneaking around and attempting a rescue mission. Perhaps there were Whitetails close-by too, or aid from the other regions. Hell Dutch was still filling the radio-channel with calls to him. Stupid old man didn’t realise his days were numbered.

“Sam?” A tone he hadn’t used in a long time; a hint of concern and there was a hoarseness to his voice that wasn’t feigned - disuse done that. “Is that really you?”

Up to the bars of the cage and Eli reached out a muddy and bruised arm to clutch at the Dep’s reaching hand. The relief on her face was almost touching but it blinded her. She didn’t notice the small give-aways like the well-fed muscles beneath the dirt, the calmness he had and the fact that the cage door was unlocked as he yanked her forward and the floodlights lit up all at once.

“Don’t worry Sam, even the weak have their purpose.” There was a smirk on Eli’s face as two Chosen came up behind the Dep and took charge of her. Two seconds later and Jacob was winding up the music box.

 “I told you she would come.”

[wrathincrrnate]

Creed and Emmet, dynamic blonde troublemakers of Hope County Sheriff's Department. If they're on a call together, odds are things go down. Whitehorse typically keeps them on different shifts to avoid this.

Random asks || Accepting || @deputyscreed

The most iconic duo tbqh. Whitehorse tries to keep them away from each other but you just KNOW the second they catch sight of each other on the same call there's all kinds of finger guns and loud excited yelling also???? Look me in the eye and tell me these two haven’t put a squad car in a lake. That’s right you can’t.

[thefcther-blog1]

Vindication. It was as sweet as his first sup of Bliss. Though his faith had cost him so much, it had proven true in the end. Once, near the end, he had teetered. Like doubting Thomas, a brief moment in his heart, he had worried that the Voice was borne of illness rather than something holy. That he was unwell. Yet the Collapse had come. The blood he had shed had purpose. The loss of his family had purpose. The sacrifice of his daughter had purpose. 

Yet the Collapse did not come gently. With all great transitions in the world, it came about violently. There was a flood, once more, yet this one was made of fire. He had done what he could to play the role of Moses and Peter. Now, it seemed, he’d adopt the role of Noah, too. 

For while the others in the truck had been killed by the fallen tree, one yet survived, and of course . . . it was her. The one whose hands were stained with the blood from his family. The human in him still wanted to punish her for the pain her actions had caused him. Yet he held fast to his faith. He’d forgiven her the transgression she had imparted upon him. She had been blind. But perhaps, now, she would see. 

It was with great care that Joseph took her body from the truck. Even as an inferno waged around them, it wouldn’t have done neither of them very well if he had made her wounds worse just to get her to safety. Lean though he was, almost gaunt, he made carrying her look as though she weighed nothing but a slip of paper. It did not escape his notice that he could very well be carrying the cross that would later crucify him.

After all, the Deputy had proven herself to be an enemy to him and his flock. Perhaps his story would end differently than the Savior’s. Joseph just needed to have faith . . .

Once she had been taken into the bunker, he quickly and efficiently disposed of Dutch. That man would never accept the Word into his heart. Tired, worn, bruised, yet triumphant, Joseph handcuffed the Deputy to a chair and then checked the bunker’s state of supplies. Dutch had been a prepper for years. They would survive due to his diligence. 

With rosary beads clutched firmly in his hand, he took a moment to compose himself and give a word of thanks to the Lord for his survival and for gifting him with the warning of the Collapse. He just hoped his flock had managed to make it to their own bunkers. Without his Heralds . . . he feared for their safety and commitment. 

Hearing stirring in the other room, Joseph returned to find the Deputy blearily coming back to consciousness. A speech was given about redemption, about being vindicated and right. And he made sure that she knew she was part of his family now. For all he knew . . . they were all they had left. 

Taking a chair of his own, he placed it in front of her and sat comfortably. Green eyes were no less intense, but he appeared more mortal with his bruised face and strands of hair that had escaped from his bun. “I’m going to be tossing the weapons out of the bunker along with him,” he lightly tapped Dutch’s dead body with his toes, “in a few minutes. We don’t have need of them here. They’ll melt in the fire outside, so I wouldn’t recommend opening the door to locate them . . . nor exposing us further to radiation. That is, of course, if I release you from that chair.”

Leaning forward slightly, his elbows resting on his knees, he continued. “I’d like to. I’d even like us to be friends despite the heartache that you’ve caused me. But we can’t be friends. Not yet. We’ve never even been properly introduced.” She was only ‘The Deputy’ to him. Hardly a way to begin a friendship. “My name is Joseph. Joseph Seed. Last of the Seed family.” 

@deputyscreed

[justxsayxyes]

deputyscreed liked your photo

‘ i see you. ’

[solarsought]

“Didn’t you mother teach you it’s rude to stare?” Jess asks with a glare before she moves to get her things ready again. “Becuase news flash I don’t want you fuckin’ staring.”

@deputyscreed // small starter

[iscariotsdeputy]

“Actually… we haven’t met.“ //pre-game events staci plzthankyou

Alita: Battle Angel Sentence Starters

    By the very look on that stranger’s eyes, Staci was hopping up to greet her and give a showman’s performance with each little wink of his eye and joking comment that was made to make her feel at home. However, when one of his many comments ended with ‘Haven’t I seen you around here?’ and she responded, Staci quirked an eyebrow back and laughed.

    “It was kinda rhetorical, but it doesn’t matter! Staci Pratt, most people call me Deputy Pratt, but there’s also a subsection of people who call me ‘that asshole’.” Staci nudged the stranger with his elbow. “That subsection is known as the people who don’t like me. Let’s hope you won’t be one of those people! I’m guessing by the confused look on your face, you’re the new Dep in town, huh? I guess I won’t have to worry about you calling me an asshole, because...”

    Staci gestured emphatically to himself. “I’m your mentor, Probie! Now, what’s your name?”