#joseph seed au

[chizups]

Something to get out of my system: My Far Cry 5 pairings (◕‿◕｡)

Vaguely based on alternative course of events, where the reaping didn't happen and Seeds didn't get as vicious as they were in the game. At least not yet... Still maniacs. Though I think I'll keep it low in my funny haha cartoon drawings.

John went to prison. Not for murder or cult activity, but for a much lesser crime that, coupled with his defense in court, earned him a very short sentence. During his time in prison, Salome visited him so often that John finally believed that she cared and wanted to help him. At her urging, he began treatment for his violent tendencies. When he got out, they married and for a time abstracted themselves from the cult. However, when back under the influence of Joseph, he returned to his old ways with some modifications.

Dina is a young woman who entered Eden's Gate as a teenager. She became obsessed with Jacob, something he didn't appreciate until she started shaking him out of his PTSD episodes. Deputy Pratt is convinced that Dina has simply been brainwashed (which is true), and periodically tries to convince Dina that she should run. Dina doesn't get the idea. Dina also doesn't really like Joseph that much.

Wisper comes from warframe Wisp. Drawing her with Joseph was a joke, and these characters connection was based exclusively on the fact that Far Cry 5 and Warframe are two of my favorite games. That's it. And then I got hyperfixated on the pair and now can't get them out of my head, coming up with more and more new scenarios for them... Oh well. After all I am an artist, I can draw what I want.

Faith playfully stole a kiss from an "angel", told Joseph about it, and he got jealous :D what a story. This idea started from a crossover on crossover with crossover which I have no intention to tell anywhere right now...

[sunshowersanddandelionwine]

scare actor au thought:

Someone (idk who maybe Nikolai) gets the idea to have a family friendly haunt every Friday before sunset. No gore, no jumpscares, just some trick or treating stations and other kid-friendly activity. And they go all out. Everyone’s in costume -yes, even you Nikolai this was your idea now you get to deal with it. There’s a petting zoo, pumpkin decorating, hayrides, you name it. The walker brothers bring puppies and Riley the dog is the center of everyone’s attention. It’s a whole thing.

The cast and crew also get to invite their families for free.

Which means that Joseph and the rest of the Riley family get to meet soap and the mactavishes for the first time

Ghost was a little worried at first, because joseph can be wary of strangers at first (and he didn’t want Tommy to scare soap off), but he didn’t need to be. Johnny has two older sisters, Joan and Mary, who have kids around Joseph’s age and they get on like a house on fire.

He was right to worry about Tommy, but not for the reasons you might think. He and Maggie get along really well. TOO well. Now it’s a Thing and they’re all suffering for it. Beth is having the time of her life.

(If Joseph and Soap’s twin nieces Agnes and Jules find their uncles snuggled up together in the barn, that’s their little secret.)

[thesillyphilly]

Here is some Joseph seed swap au art

Pratt is the one on the top right, Hudson is bottom right, and the Marshall is the top middle. It gose in that order and as it goes, the old mans jacket is getting toren up.

Joseph, my fav old man.

If u have any questions, feel free to ask

[thepachy]

My brain started to imagine a sort of prison Au for Eden’s gate because idk it’s fun but with their influence the brothers still grew the cult inside the prisons with the guards and all

Like Joseph using his usual charisma, John manipulation and Jacob violence

And i think Jacob in a prison would be WILD

[derelictheretic]

Was thinking about this au again,,

[simplegenius042]

Music Monday, WIP Wednesday & OC Speech Mannerisms

Tagged by @inafieldofdaisies @socially-awkward-skeleton @imogenkol and @noodlecupcakes

Tagging @direwombat @voidika @cassietrn @adelaidedrubman @aceghosts @josephseedismyfather @icecutioner @derelictheretic @shallow-gravy @strangefable @statichvm @cloudofbutterflies92 @carlosoliveiraa @wrathfulrook @raresvtm @starsandskies @ladyoriza @la-grosse-patate @minilev @thewanderer-000 @omen-speaker @justasmolbard @alypink @shellibisshe @josephslittledeputy @skoll-sun-eater @g0dspeeed @afarcryfrommymain @strafethesesinners @turbo-virgins @softtidesworld @florbelles and @yokobai + anyone who wants to join.

Music for The UnTitledverse WIP, aka another for my Walking Fate series, a WIP for The Silver Chronicles and OC speech mannerisms for A Radioactive Calamity Of Love, Bombs & Gore. Listen and read under the cut, plus the template near the end below:

Yeah, so I can't stop talking about Walking Fate. This particular WIP in the series is referred to as A Dark Era as it takes place near season three, or A New Frontier as we know it. Not only is the song chosen because of the themes of that game (and the central relationship between Javi and David), but its in addition to the growing decay (considering this is in The Walking Dead, does this count as a pun?) of Clementine's hope for Malcrum and Malcrum's loss of himself. I'd like to say that each "season" is about a certain aspect/form of a relationship. Season 1 is about the formation of relationships, familial and romantic (with hints of loss). Season 2 is about reignited relationships, the strengths and weaknesses in them, true and false relationships and lastly the loss them. Season 3 is the decay of relationships. Season 4 is forming new connections, and the finale is being able to let go. Listen to the song below:

"'Cause baby, now we've got bad blood You know it used to be mad love So take a look at what you've done 'Cause baby, now we've got bad blood, hey!"

"I can't take it back, look where I'm at We was O-G like D.O.C., remember that? (Remember that?) My T-L-C was quite O-D, I-D my facts Now P-O-V of you and me, similar Iraq I don't hate you, but I hate to critique, overrate you These beats of a dark heart, use basslines to replace you Take time and erase you, love don't hear no more No, I don't fear no more, better yet, respect ain't quite sincere no more."

"Oh, it's so sad to think about the good times You and I

'Cause baby, now we've got bad blood You know it used to be mad love So take a look at what you've done 'Cause baby, now we've got bad blood, hey!

Now we've got problems And I don't think we can solve 'em You made a really deep cut And baby, now we've got bad blood, hey!"

"Remember when you tried to write me off? Remember when you thought I'd take a loss? Don't you remember? You thought that I would need ya Follow procedure, remember? Oh, wait, you got amnesia It was my season for battle wounds Battle scars, body bumped, bruised Stabbed in the back; brimstone, fire jumping through Still, all my life, I got money and power And you gotta to live with the bad blood now."

"Oh, it's so sad to think about the good times You and I

'Cause baby, now we've got bad blood You know it used to be mad love So take a look at what you've done 'Cause baby, now we've got bad blood, hey!

Now we've got problems And I don't think we can solve 'em You made a really deep cut And baby, now we've got bad blood, hey!

Band-Aids don't fix bullet holes You say sorry just for show If you live like that, you live with ghosts." "You forgive, you forget, but you never let it go." "Band-Aids don't fix bullet holes You say sorry just for show If you live like that, you live with ghosts." "If you love like that, blood runs cold."

"'Cause baby, now we've got bad blood You know it used to be mad love So take a look at what you've done 'Cause baby, now we've got bad blood, hey!

Now we've got problems And I don't think we can solve 'em (Don't think we can solve 'em) You made a really deep cut And baby, now we've got bad blood, hey!

'Cause baby, now we've got bad blood You know it used to be mad love So take a look at what you've done (Look what you've done) 'Cause baby, now we've got bad blood, hey!

Now we've got problems And I don't think we can solve 'em You made a really deep cut And baby, now we've got bad blood, hey!"

New FC5 WIP, and it's a bit like a crossover. Actually, more like a Bloodborne AU type deal with Far Cry 5. To note, this no way in which relates to or is connected to my own Bloodborne WIP. Anyway, so the deal with this FC5/Bloodborne WIP AU is, Hope County has a bit of a werewolf problem. It's supposedly a plague that irreversibly changes people into bloodthirsty beasts and these creatures usually come out a few nights in the year. Or maybe they come out every night, I'm unsure. For this reason, Hope County has a curfew installed and contracted a local monastery to send out special hunters to hunt these beasts down and keep the populace safe. In this WIP, the monastery and hunters are lead by Paul Yellowjack, who is the first hunter (he takes on a combination of roles from the actual Bloodborne game; most tellingly, Gehrman), with Silva (my deputy OC in any regular FC5 fic) leading the hunts as his first student (taking on the role as Lady Maria in a way; and unlike Gehrman, Paul is not attracted to her (if that is the correct interpretation, because Bloodborne is a game that is really up to interpretation), however, just like Gehrman, Paul has a bit of an obsession with her, just more paternal and codependent... the moon may or may not be involved in this). In this AU, hunters don't really interact with people outside of the hunts for the people's safety and because their profession doesn't really scream long life expectancy. Some FC5 characters, like Jess, Grace, Sharky and maybe the Whitetail Militia have become Hunters. Some OCs who were Eden's Gate or Resistance (Nadi, Alexander and Gavin specifically) are also Hunters. Eden's Gate takes on more-or-less the same role as it does in the game, they're just (a) better at hiding their crimes because everyone's preoccupied with the werewolves and (b) using the fact there are werewolves as a sign the Collapse is coming closer, and honestly, it manages to get them more converts. In the early years, Eden's Gate and Paul's Monastery (of Hunters) did trades; Eden's Gate transferred Paul more hunter converts, and Paul in turn would give resources and lands (of the recently deceased) over to them. However, after Vicar Laurence turned into a Cleric Beast, Paul's Hunters and Eden's Gate align with each other to combat the scourge plague and find out how to both eradicate the beasts in hiding and completely destroy the source of it so they stop growing in number. Joseph and his family still have their goal of bringing forth the Collapse, however the Scourge Plague needs to get gone so law enforcement can actually patrol the nights again, so their willing to wait and work with Paul some more, especially since this new alliance has opened up a new chore Paul will do for Joseph's family; clearing out the beasts that use the bunkers the Project wants as a den. But Paul expects this alliance to go both ways, meaning Joseph has to be ready to give somethings up to the Hunters... or even someone. Here's a bit of a snippet of the prologue, where these proceedings go down. A bit choppy and personally not my best but I'll fix it up when I got the time:

Paul offered the glass to Joseph, but he declined with a wave of his hand.

The older man tried to offer it to Jacob and John. While John looked at the glass with disdain when turning it away, Jacob took a moment to consider the tempting offer before deciding against it.

The night days before may have been a dreadfully long one, but Jacob had no intention on compromising his values now. Especially not with both his little brothers present.

Paul didn't push against their refusals, instead taking the glass drinks for himself, downing both before slumping into his seat, exhaustion heavy on features. And yet he hadn't lost his composure that night. No wonder he was a more favorable leader than Laurence was... or had been.

Jacob tried not to think about the masses screams... and the loud inhuman shrieks that bellowed from the flames.

Paul sat up, hand brushing through his light brown hair. Soon his exhaustion was replaced with his usual cheerful facade, an optimism that Jacob was unsure was more for the older man or his people.

"As I was saying," Paul stated, catching the brothers attention, "While the public and some of the newer recruits are under the impression that the most recent hunt was merely bad luck. A tragedy, of course, but a one-time fluke... I am in agreement with your assessment of this event, Father Joseph."

Joseph blinked in response, and tilted his head quizzically. Jacob himself was suspicious of Paul's words. While the Monastery and Project had never butted heads, especially during trades, there was an unspoken judgement of the other's practices and beliefs.

"You've finally accepted these monsters to be a sign of the coming end?" John poked, hoping to receive clarification from what he to was hearing.

"Don't misunderstand, I'm not saying this scourge is a sign of this "Collapse" you yap about," Paul responded, the clarification disappointing Joseph and making John frown with narrow eyes, "What I am saying is... the scourge is only going to get worse. The hours of the night longer on each hunt. The beasts stronger. Vicar Laurence... succumbing to this plague is evident of this. What I offer is an accord... that I believe will benefit both our groups greatly."

John's eyes lightened up with intrigue and Joseph's with attentiveness and curiosity. Jacob... didn't know what to make of this though. Not without more information.

"You want more trade?" Jacob prompted, hoping the Hunter's Chief would spill more.

He didn't have to wait long for Paul to immediately reply, like he had been waiting on the question, "Well, not exactly. What I'm offering is a partnership... an alliance. For your brave men and women to join in on the hunts; to put an end to the scourge together."

Jacob paused at Paul's words. Realization hit that Paul didn't merely want to trade numbers; he wanted help in putting down the beast threat for good.

John was grinning ear to ear, taking a step forward to bring Paul's attention on the youngest of the brothers, "You're asking for more than just a trade then?"

Paul gave a half nod and clasped his hands together, "After the Night of Flames, we lost several of our best and oldest hunters to Lau- the beast's rampage, some included being family. Not only that, resources are getting lower as the hunts becomes more frequent and the nights longer, and incense can only ward off beasts for so long. Safe havens such as this monastery are being viewed as unreliable due to Laurence's affliction. Worse yet, the people have just lost their source of hope on the darkest night to date, and gentlemen; while I'm spectacular at giving advice and assurances over radio, I am no good a leader as I am a savvy tactician. Frankly boys... I need your help."

Jacob saw the exhaustion etched in Paul's face return, and for the first time since he's made contact with him, the eldest Seed could see the age weighing down on Paul's struggling shoulders. One man who has given it his all against an adversary far beyond his human limits, and doesn't put his pride above the safety of his people, unafraid of reaching out for help. Jacob could admire that, even if Paul was an opposing force to Joseph's vision.

Unless...

"And what do you offer in return?" Jacob inquired, giving Paul an expectant gaze. While Paul was not someone he could ever hope to influence, he was aware of the Hunter Chief's observations in behavioral patterns and societal expectations that allowed him to create a psychological profile on his target. Not too dissimilar from Jacob himself, "After all, you've already promised us your tools and protection, if we're forming an alliance that puts our people further into danger with the beasts, I expect you have some kind of compensation to give us, right?

As Jacob suspected, he wasn't disappointed with Paul's answer.

"Well, I'm quite aware you boys and your posse desire a shelter from your God's doomsday; and while I'm not superstitious, irony not lost on me, I am quite vengeful against these beasts," Paul spits out, the bloodthirsty wrath tinged in the very roots of his words, "They've made dens out of abandoned silos that keep them out of the sun. Impenetrable to raids and stubborn against our explosives. If we were to get rid of those beasts, that leaves a whole empty construction up for grabs. We hunters have no use for such things, not even as storage; but perhaps, with a bit of repairs and expansion here and there, it can provide your Project everything you want."

Jacob allowed a small smirk to slip past his stoic mask. He gazed to his brothers, and saw both Joseph and John were both as satisfied and elated with Paul's answers as he was.

Joseph took a moment to consider his answer to Paul's offer. While Jacob himself thought the opportunity wasn't something they should sit on, ultimately it was Joseph's final word as the Father that determined the outcome to this meeting.

Joseph glanced to Jacob and John, and received encouraging nods from both.

With one final contemplative thought over the deal, Joseph spoke once more, "These demons only desire to afflict destruction upon us all; including the sinners. They are vile in their service to their own blood lust. If any of us are to reach New Eden after the Collapse, this plague must be purged from its very roots. You have Eden's Gate' word; your hunter's call for help will not go unanswered."

Paul clapped his hands together as he chirpily stated, "Great! We'll go over the details at your place."

Joseph wasn't bothered by Paul's response. John though seemed to want to refute but refrained from ruining the mood. And Jacob was satisfied with the results and benefits the Project would be receiving. As the brothers prepared to make their way to the office door, Paul spoke up.

"Oh, uh, one last thing," Paul held their attention, curiosity piqued, "I request a favor. As you're aware of, my vicar is, well... dead."

Jacob heard Paul mutter out a half-ass "may he rest in pieces" before the older man continued, "And with that position open, there haven't been any candidates too eager to take on the role to calm and take responsibility over our masses. Frankly, I don't want our next Vicar to be too similar to Laurence. Trust and faith in the Hunter's are being called to question and I'd like a fresh young face to ease their worries."

Jacob narrowed his eyes at Paul, his instincts alerted towards the older man's odd request.

"What I'm trying to say Father Joseph is if you have someone you have complete trust and faith in, with proficient experience in easing the doubts of people sharing not unfounded concerns, young enough that they can differentiate themselves from Laurence, but adept enough to take on the role of my people's Vicar without much training. Anyone come to mind?"

Jacob raised a brow at Paul's description. Amongst the Project, he couldn't think much faithful within the family's, nor the herald's inner circle that could fit that description. If Paul was wanting one of them, Jacob still hit a blank wall, considering neither he nor John shared all the qualities Paul desired. The ideal vicar Paul desired didn't fit them anyway, with exception to Joseph and their newest so-called-

He paused, brows slightly furrowed. He glanced to Joseph, and saw that his brother reached the same conclusion but far from skeptical of Paul as he should be.

"I have someone in mind," Joseph answered Paul. Jacob watched as the Chief Hunter leaned back on his chair, a relaxed smile resting on his face, uttering a proud, or perhaps smug, "I knew you would."

And finally OC speech mannerisms for Marissa "Ress" Bishop, Ortega "Ore" Brantley and their father, Arcane Urias from my Fallout series A Radioactive Calamity Of Love, Bombs & Gore.

MARISSA "RESS" BISHOP (FO3, FONV & FO4)

NO. OF SPOKEN LANGUAGES: 1 / 2 / 3+ (I believe she's learned a lot of languages, especially when being raised by the Bishop family, considering many of their business partners would have been of different ethnicity. The one's she's strongly mastered are English, Chinese, Japanese and French)

TONE OF VOICE: high / average / deep

ACCENT: yes / no

DEMEANOR: confident / shy / approachable / hostile / other (off-putting)

POSTURE: slumped / straight / stiff / relaxed

HABITS: head tilting / swaying / fidgeting / stuttering / gestures / worrying lip / arm crossing / strokes chin / er, um, or other interjections / plays with hair or clothing / hands at hips / inconsistent eye contact / maintains eye contact / frequent pausing / stands close / stands at a distance

— COMPLEXITY

VOCABULARY: ⚫️⚫️⚫️⚫️⚪️

EMOTION: ⚫️⚫️⚫️⚪️⚪️

SENTENCE STRUCTURE: ⚫️⚫️⚫️⚫️⚪️

— PROFANITY

FREQUENCY: ⚫️⚫️⚫️⚫️⚪️

CREATIVITY (in regards to profanity): ⚫️⚫️⚫️⚫️⚫️

BOLD ALL THAT APPLY: arse. ass. asshole. bastard. bitch. bloody. bugger. bollocks. chicken shit. crap. cunt. dick. frick. fuck. horseshit. motherfucker. piss. prick. screw. shit. shitass. son of a bitch. twat. wanker. pussy.

— THIS OR THAT

straightforward or cryptic? / finding the right word or using the first word that comes to mind? / masculinity / neutrality / or femininity / formalities or with abrasiveness? / praise or equivocation? / frankness or lies? / excessive or minimal hand gestures? / name-calling (affectionate) or magnanimity?/ friendly or blunt?

— IMPORTANT QUESTIONS

DO PEOPLE HAVE A HARD TIME HEARING OR UNDERSTANDING YOUR CHARACTER? - almost always / frequently / rarely / never

DOES YOUR CHARACTER’S POINT COME ACROSS EASILY WHEN THEY SPEAK? - almost always / frequently/ sometimes / rarely / never

WOULD YOUR CHARACTER INITIATE CONVERSATIONS? - almost always / frequently / sometimes / never

WOULD YOUR CHARACTER BE THE ONE TO END CONVERSATIONS? - almost always / frequently / sometimes/ rarely / never.

WOULD YOUR CHARACTER USE ‘WHOM’ IN A SENTENCE? - yes / no / only ironically

YOUR CHARACTER WANTS TO MAKE A COUNTERPOINT. WHAT WORD DO THEY USE? - but / though / although / however / perhaps / mayhaps.

HOW DOES YOUR CHARACTER END CONVERSATIONS? - walk away / ask if that’s everything / say that’s everything / gives a proper goodbye (if she likes you well enough) / tell their company they’re done here / remain quiet / they don’t.

WHAT SOCIAL CLASS WOULD OTHERS ASSUME YOUR CHARACTER BELONGS TO, HEARING THEM SPEAK? - upper / middle / lower.

IN WHAT WAYS DOES THE WAY YOUR CHARACTER SPEAK STAND OUT TO OTHERS? - accent / vocabulary / tone / level / politeness / brusqueness / it doesn’t.

ORTEGA "ORE" BRANTLEY (FALLOUT (1997), FO2, FO3, FONV)

NO. OF SPOKEN LANGUAGES: 1 / 2 / 3+ (he's likely picked up a few here and there)

TONE OF VOICE: high / average / deep

ACCENT: yes / no

DEMEANOR: confident / shy / approachable / hostile / other (awkward)

POSTURE: slumped / straight / stiff / relaxed

HABITS: head tilting / swaying / fidgeting / stuttering / gestures / worrying lip / arm crossing / strokes chin / er, um, or other interjections / plays with hair or clothing / hands at hips / inconsistent eye contact / maintains eye contact / frequent pausing / stands close / stands at a distance

— COMPLEXITY

VOCABULARY: ⚫️⚫️⚫️⚫️⚪️

EMOTION: ⚫️⚫️⚫️⚫️⚪️

SENTENCE STRUCTURE: ⚫️⚫️⚫️⚪️⚪️

— PROFANITY

FREQUENCY: ⚫️⚫️⚫️⚪️⚪️

CREATIVITY (in regards to profanity): ⚫️⚫️⚫️⚪️⚪️

BOLD ALL THAT APPLY: arse. ass. asshole. bastard. bitch. bloody. bugger. bollocks. chicken shit. crap. cunt. dick. frick. fuck. horseshit. motherfucker. piss. prick. screw. shit. shitass. son of a bitch. twat. wanker. pussy.

— THIS OR THAT

straightforward or cryptic? / finding the right word or using the first word that comes to mind? / masculinity / neutrality / or femininity / formalities or with abrasiveness? / praise or equivocation? / frankness or lies? / excessive or minimal hand gestures? / name-calling (affectionate) or magnanimity?/ friendly or blunt?

— IMPORTANT QUESTIONS

DO PEOPLE HAVE A HARD TIME HEARING OR UNDERSTANDING YOUR CHARACTER? - almost always / frequently / rarely / never

DOES YOUR CHARACTER’S POINT COME ACROSS EASILY WHEN THEY SPEAK? - almost always / frequently/ sometimes / rarely / never

WOULD YOUR CHARACTER INITIATE CONVERSATIONS? - almost always / frequently / sometimes / never

WOULD YOUR CHARACTER BE THE ONE TO END CONVERSATIONS? - almost always / frequently / sometimes/ rarely / never.

WOULD YOUR CHARACTER USE ‘WHOM’ IN A SENTENCE? - yes / no / only ironically

YOUR CHARACTER WANTS TO MAKE A COUNTERPOINT. WHAT WORD DO THEY USE? - but / though / although / however / perhaps / mayhaps.

HOW DOES YOUR CHARACTER END CONVERSATIONS? - walk away / ask if that’s everything / say that’s everything / gives a proper goodbye / tell their company they’re done here / remain quiet / they don’t.

WHAT SOCIAL CLASS WOULD OTHERS ASSUME YOUR CHARACTER BELONGS TO, HEARING THEM SPEAK? - upper / middle / lower.

IN WHAT WAYS DOES THE WAY YOUR CHARACTER SPEAK STAND OUT TO OTHERS? - accent / vocabulary / tone / level / politeness / brusqueness / it doesn’t.

ARCANE URIAS (FALLOUT (1997), FO2, FO3, FO4, FO76)

NO. OF SPOKEN LANGUAGES: 1 / 2 (English and his own) / 3+

TONE OF VOICE: high / average / deep

ACCENT: yes / no

DEMEANOR: confident / shy / approachable / hostile / other

POSTURE: slumped / straight / stiff / relaxed

HABITS: head tilting / swaying / fidgeting / stuttering / gestures / worrying lip / arm crossing / strokes chin / er, um, or other interjections / plays with hair or clothing / hands at hips / inconsistent eye contact / maintains eye contact / frequent pausing / stands (too) close / stands at a distance

— COMPLEXITY

VOCABULARY: ⚫️⚫️⚫️⚫️⚫️

EMOTION: ⚪️⚪️⚪️⚪️⚪️

SENTENCE STRUCTURE: ⚫️⚫️⚫️⚫️⚫️

— PROFANITY

FREQUENCY: ⚪️⚪️⚪️⚪️⚪️

CREATIVITY (in regards to profanity): ⚪️⚪️⚪️⚪️⚪️

BOLD ALL THAT APPLY: arse. ass. asshole. bastard. bitch. bloody. bugger. bollocks. chicken shit. crap. cunt. dick. frick. fuck. horseshit. motherfucker. piss. prick. screw. shit. shitass. son of a bitch. twat. wanker. pussy.

— THIS OR THAT

straightforward or cryptic? / finding the right word or using the first word that comes to mind? / masculinity / neutrality / or femininity / formalities or with abrasiveness? / praise or equivocation? / frankness or lies? / excessive or minimal hand gestures? / name-calling (affectionate) or magnanimity?/ friendly or blunt?

— IMPORTANT QUESTIONS

DO PEOPLE HAVE A HARD TIME HEARING OR UNDERSTANDING YOUR CHARACTER? - almost always / frequently / rarely / never

DOES YOUR CHARACTER’S POINT COME ACROSS EASILY WHEN THEY SPEAK? - almost always / frequently/ sometimes / rarely / never

WOULD YOUR CHARACTER INITIATE CONVERSATIONS? - almost always / frequently / sometimes / never

WOULD YOUR CHARACTER BE THE ONE TO END CONVERSATIONS? - almost always / frequently / sometimes/ rarely / never.

WOULD YOUR CHARACTER USE ‘WHOM’ IN A SENTENCE? - yes / no / only ironically

YOUR CHARACTER WANTS TO MAKE A COUNTERPOINT. WHAT WORD DO THEY USE? - but / though / although / however / perhaps / mayhaps.

HOW DOES YOUR CHARACTER END CONVERSATIONS? - walk away / ask if that’s everything / say that’s everything / gives a proper goodbye / tell their company they’re done here / remain quiet / they don’t.

WHAT SOCIAL CLASS WOULD OTHERS ASSUME YOUR CHARACTER BELONGS TO, HEARING THEM SPEAK? - upper / middle / lower.

IN WHAT WAYS DOES THE WAY YOUR CHARACTER SPEAK STAND OUT TO OTHERS? - accent / vocabulary / tone / level / politeness / brusqueness / it doesn’t.

[pande-monty-um]

A WIP I'll probably never finish of the Seeds lol. Inspired by ghostrider.

Increase the brightness for better quality! :)

Thank you @221bfakerstreet for the inspo for Johns design!

[general-kalani]

"F-Fuck..."

Leaving a blood trail was never his intention, but his strengthened immunity to the Bliss unlike others, mostly because of his prolonged time in it to get used to it, had caused him to take more shots than necessary by his flock- the cult.

His brothers' cult now really.

Entering a nearby home he was thankful that, for the time being, it was empty.

No Resistance, no cult.

A blessing in his eyes, if he had to be honest.

But now, bleeding out with no chance of recovery... Well, it was only a matter of time until he died.

Sliding against a corner, no weapons on him he tried his best to stay awake but that was in vain...

He prayed that whoever entered the home next was not an enemy of some kind...

[chizups]

John Seed x Salome Ann Clock fanfiction that kicks off the Family Tree AU

- You think you're doing everything right, but you're making a mistake... - You're still alive?! What luck! - Wha... - John Seed, you're under arrest. You have the right to remain silent, anything you say... - I know my rights! - Very convenient. - Are you going to judge me? - beaten badly, he still laughed condescendingly, but his laughter quickly turned into a cough when the Deputy tugged at the handcuffs that were clasped around John's wrists. - No, that's not in my line. You and your brothers will appear before a real judge at a real court hearing. - Oh spare me this nonsense and just kill me already... - Absolutely not. - Do you think there's any point in your legal theatre? I know all of this! I'm a lawyer! - So that's another reason to keep you alive, Seed: I want to be present at the court and hear how you'll get out of the mess your family has made here.

***

Scattered throughout the county, those were not even cellars - real fortified shelters. Most of them were not deep, but equipped for living, not for storing jars of jam only. Mostly abandoned, thanks to Seeds. One of these shelters turned out to be very handy...

There was no more suitable place to keep John at that moment. Seed had to be hidden from everyone. All the participants in this last fight against The Inquisitor, including his religiously charged followers and Salome's injured colleagues, thought she shot the bastard, and she was absolutely sure that if they knew that The Deputy kept him alive and safe, they would want to save John from Salome's grasp, or take his life with their own hands. And the sheriff's deputy would remain guilty in any case.

Covered in blood and bruises, both miraculously reached the underground shelter unnoticed. John was surprisingly obedient, no screaming, no calls for help. He only stumbled occasionally, walking caused him obvious discomfort. Which, of course, was not surprising after all the chasing and shootouts on the ground and in the sky. Somehow deputy Clock managed to push the younger Seed into the hatch, helped him down the ladder, and locked John in a smaller corner right next to the bathroom. Not like there were many options anyway, but this spot conveniently had metal mesh on a steel frame that could be locked from the outside with a key. Apparently, the former owner of the cellar also used it to keep prisoners of his own... Cultists perhaps. The "brave resistance fighters" were no strangers to torturing when they thought it needed to be done. Seed did not resist much, and Salome hoped that it was not because his strength was leaving him forever allowing death come closer. Whoever was kept here before, now John was sitting here. After closing the door behind his back with a metal clank deputy did not bring the keys even close to it.

***

When Deputy Clock was coming out into the day light, she told everyone who asked that John Seed was shot. Sometimes they asked some clarifying questions, and Salome had to lie: shot him, left him in the field, went away, doesn’t know what happened next. Fortunately, most people didn’t need more clearance that that, they believed their savior deputy from the first word. No wonder, since John had caused the residents of Holland Valley so much… troubles? Salome couldn't bring herself to call all the horrors and sorrows that ordinary people had experienced just troubles. Such a small word for this torture...

She felt awkward lying too. He was alive, after all. She told about that awkwardness to John herself, laughing in an attempt to hide her true feelings about Seed and all the lying.

John was freaking out the first couple of times Salome visited him, threw a few tantrums, but after that he became surprisingly calm and attentive to all of her confessions, as he preferred to call them. Ironically, Salome Ann Clock now lied to everyone except him.

***

- I brought you some food, Seed!

- How generous of you, - the prisoner muttered.

- I don't want you to shrivel up to death before your trial! - she spoke in a deliberately positive tone. A little mockingly, but John didn't buy it. His soul was troubled by completely different thoughts.

Deputy checked on him quite often. As was said, she didn't want him to croak from hunger, cold or some injury that John had already managed to inflict on himself without her supervision. Back then, in the moment, she didn't understand how it happened and didn't suspect the reasons, but her prisoner almost broke his arm from hitting the wall. Salome had to handcuff him through the bars, open the mesh door, treat his bloody hand, which John was extremely unhappy about of course, but he didn't kick too much either. The same thing happened when he cut himself. A monster that Inquisitor kept inside his body was tormenting him by a manic itch, but it had no one to sharpen its claws on except him. Fortunately, the cuts weren't deep at all.

Surely, somewhere deep inside, Seed felt gratitude for the attention, but he did not want to express it out loud. In the end, overcoming himself, he squeezed out, not without sarcasm, "thank you, what would I do without your tender care," and then was filled with hatred for himself and his feelings. He had long since begun to like the sheriff's deputy, and it infuriated him greatly. All this courtesy from Salome, good food, their conversations brought them both much more pleasure than they were willing to admit.

***

An agreement with Faith Seed was not achieved. Not because she was too stubborn. On the contrary, at some point it even seemed to Salome that girl was panicking and ready to do anything, just to survive the encounter, just so The Deputy would stop fighting with her. After all, that deputy was winning. Despite the Bliss on Faith's side, which was supposed to become an obstacle for Salome.

- This gas was everywhere... I didn't understand what was reality and what was an illusion. I wouldn't have been sure of her death if it wasn't for the explosion in the bunker... Killing her was not the plan at all.

- You couldn't have done otherwise, - John stated from behind the bars kindly and calmly, - she will be mourned, but her death is also part of God's plan.

- The one Joseph is talking about? - Salome asked with a bitter smile.

- The one Joseph is talking about. And the Lord himself told Joseph, - the prisoner clarified once again, pointing his index finger at the ceiling.

Deputy, however, also noticed a sadden, irritated note in his voice. It seemed that only Joseph himself was one hundred and twenty percent sure of Joseph's grand destiny.

Salome responded to this with only a lowered head, a resigned nod. It's been a long time since she stopped rolling her eyes, listening to this... nonsense? It sounded less and less crazy with each passing day.

***

So much blood on her hands already. She washed them diligently, yet still felt the layer of death up to the elbows. This feeling had become familiar in the north of the county. Was scared to return to the wolves' den.

"But you will return, you have no choice"

John Seed said comfortingly, and Salome looked at him with all the concern in her eyes, with all the anxiety that had been accumulating in her since the moment she first fell into Jacob's hands. And her gaze met John's blue eyes, so kind, it would seem, but so cold, sobering. Deputy felt uneasy. He was right. She had to return to the wolves' den.

It was not of heroine's own free will that she returned. It was not of her own free will that she killed Eli Palmer. Both weren't close, not friends at all, but Salome cared. Guilt filled her up to eyes. However, for some reason she wanted to blame herself, or Eli, his comrades for his death, but not Jacob Seed. As if it wasn't he who literally brainwashed deputy Clock to commit this very murder, but she who weren't diligent enough in her resistance. And Salome wasn't able to resist later either.

***

Hallucinations, waves of Hunters, packs of Judges, traps, snipers, gunfire and explosions, and still Jacob Seed escaped. Just now he was in front of the deputy, wounded, bleeding, repeating the same things as the rest of this family: Joseph is right, Joseph knows, Joseph is making a sacrifice… And then he was gone. Maybe he was just another hallucination, but later Salome heard cultists mourning one of their leaders. Brother Jacob, it seemed, was dead after all. But if not…

***

"Leave me my flock, take your friends and go."

All comrades in arms, all the friends deputy "Sunny" had made in Hope County, the ones she had helped, and who had helped her, were standing there with guns in their hands. Surrounded by the Bliss. And they were aiming at Salome. At her and her colleagues. Even Wheaty, who just last night had been shouting about him being ready to suppress the remnants of the cult, to drive them off this land, to destroy the Eden's Gate once and for all... Joseph had made him his as if with a snap of his fingers. Him. And Tammy and Jess, and Father Jerome, and all the others... As if there had been no struggle, no resistance, no opposition to the cult. As if The Father could have controlled the situation all this time, turned it in the direction he wanted. Maybe he had. In any case, Salome's thirst for struggle began to dry up when she realized the amount of control that Joseph Seed had in his hands.

"Okay... We're leaving."

Joseph let her go along with her colleagues. They rose from their knees, not without some bickering, but got into the car. Salome did too. SUV started moving. Joseph and his "flock" treated by Bliss remained standing at the open doors of the church, watching sheriff's vehicle closely, while deputy Clock was afraid to even glance at the rearview mirror. She thought the horror was still there. She thought that at least for her it was all over, finally. Until the sheriff turned on the radio...

"Only you-u-u-u..."

Time to cull the herd...

***

That red mist fell from Salome's eyes as she was walking along the road. It was a wonder she hadn't jumped off a cliff or a bridge, under a truck maybe, while still hearing that hellish song in her head, hearing the voice of the deceased Jacob. Salome had no idea if there even were any passing cars on her way. She hoped not. For obvious reasons... The red haze went away, deputy saw blood on her hands, on her shirt. The gun, tightly clenched in tense fingers, was also covered in red fingerprints. Former heroine, now finally feeling like a worthless bastard of a killer, hurried away from the road, went down to the river and looked at the reflection in the water. Blood on her face, on her neck, hair on the ends seemed to be soaked in a dark red liquid as well. A lump formed in deputy's throat, panic began to rise along with the realization. Palms suddenly scooped up cold river water, splashed in face, shirt, rubbed her hair, wiped away traces... whose, she didn't want to think at all, but given the last memories available, everything seemed completely obvious: Salome Ann Clock killed sheriff Whitehorse, killed Stacey Pratt and killed Joey Hudson - the people for whose sake she was busting her ass all this time. Probably shot them, but judging by the amount of blood, fires came from a shotgun, no less. They didn't expect it, most likely didn't even have time to understand that they had to defend themselves... Just as Seed said, Salome was now all alone. A tool that had served its purpose. Where was she supposed to go? No friends, no colleagues... Drag herself back to Joseph Seed in disgrace? Definitely not. Looking for a car and trying to escape from this place of madness also seemed impossible. And, to be completely frank, wrong. And scary. Her legs, however, brought Salome to a place now known only to Salome. And another person...

***

She was always coming into the shelter with a "hello", trying to maintain a positive attitude. At least visually. God forbid John Seed would think that his family outside was doing well. Even if later Salome told him about her struggles and the heaviness of burden that was placed upon her. All in all, she usually hoped that her apparent cheerfulness irritated John Seed at least a little. Today, Salome didn't care anymore.

The hatch opened with a creak, closed the same way. The soles of deputy's boots clattered heavily and hopelessly on the metal steps. She entered a long narrow room, where John could see her silhouette almost immediately, sitting behind the bars at the other end of this corridor. He didn't say a word. Salome took the keys from the table with which she locked John's makeshift cage - kept them in plain sight as a playful mockery - slowly, almost dragging her feet, approached, inserted them into the keyhole and turned. Youngest Seed rose from the floor, slightly confused, but, as was always the case with him, ready to listen to Clock in the hope that she would tell him something useful.

"I give up. Joseph won. You won. Go wherever you want..."

John froze for a few moments, and then jerked towards the exit, pushing Salome with his shoulder, to which, however, she did not consider it necessary to react even. Deputy simply remained standing, soaked in water, sweat and blood of people she wanted to save, and, God knows who else. Seed took a few long strides towards the exit, but as soon as he crossed the room, he stopped in the doorway, turned around and spoke.

- What happened to you?

Salome turned to him, but her eyes did not meet his. Usually higher, more optimistic female voice was now dry, tired, her words dripping with grief, for she felt nothing more clearly than this exact feeling.

- I am alone. I have no more strength to fight. And I see no point in it. You can go.

She suddenly felt goosebumps run across her skin - from the cold, Salome was shivering.

- You don't need to fight. You didn't have to from the very beginning. But now that you have learned your lesson, what are you going to do? Lie here and die?

She barely shrugged in response to his questions. Eyes scanned the room for something useful, although Salome herself did not yet understand what she was looking for. John returned to his warden with the same brisk steps, squeezed her shoulders, forcing to turn and look at him.

- Joseph saw you. Before he met you! He knew it would be like this! After everything that happened, don't you realize that you are destined to enter the Gates of Eden? To survive the Collapse and enter a new world!

Salome shook his hands off, suddenly bursting into rage.

- I don't believe in this crap! I don't believe in it, John! It's all bullshit! - her voice broke into a scream, - Yes, you got yourself a cult, you were preparing for the end of the world, but it will not happen! Your brother is sick, you are sick, you followed his lead, because with such a narrative you can do anything, any means are justified. But the Collapse is complete sh…

As if on command, the sound of an explosion was heard. Distant, but clear and loud enough to interrupt Salome's fiery hysteria. Seconds later, the earth began to shake, destruction outside quite obviously: trees were cracking, something was falling to the ground, onto a house standing nearby to a hatch under which Salome and John were dumbfounded with shock and horror. The wind rose, dragging something very heavy along the ground. As if the Lord himself heard Salome and decided to show in this way that it was time to shut the fuck up and believe. Now deputy jerked towards the exit, her eyes wide in panic, in disbelief, mouth babbling “no, no, no, it can’t be.” Her shaking hands were thrown forward in the desire to reach the door frame as quickly as possible, then to the ladder, to climb up, to lift the hatch cover, to see everything with her own eyes and make sure that maybe she just imagined it, that it wasn’t real. Salome didn’t even reach the doorway – was stopped by John. He grabbed her hand, but Clock pulled it away, so he abruptly jumped around her figure and, wrapping both of his hands around, lifted terrified woman off the floor, not letting her take even a couple of steps.

- Let me go!

- Stop kicking! The Collapse happened, you don't have to go to your death to believe it!

- It can't be, it can't be! - her attempts to break free quickly came to naught, she slid down onto John's chest, still longingly looking at the stairs over his shoulder, leading up, outside, where all the horror of the Collapse was happening now. They didn't know it yet, but everything around was burning. And that was it. The sky was invisible because of the red flashes of fire and the black trail of smoke. It didn't let anyone see, didn't let anyone breathe who hadn't managed to run and hide.

- It happened. We knew it would happen, we prepared for it. This is God's punishment, and it didn't touch you.

John was still holding Salome with both hands. He wasn't holding her back like he had a moment ago, but his embrace was still strong. With one hand he pressed Sunny's head to his shoulder. Their voices were quieter now. She was barely sobbing, more like breathing raggedly, her throat felt like it was being squeezed. John was saying in a quiet, almost lulling voice that Salome was saved, they will enter a new world, she will survive, survive everything. They would survive together.

- Why... It's the end.

- I want you to stay. Stay with me. There will be a new beginning, you'll see. Stay.

It sounded like he was trying to persuade her, not console, but Salome believed him. She had no strength left for anything else. Now for sure. Salome Ann Clock surrendered to circumstances. Surrendered to John Seed.

[puffpal7]

Far cry x Coraline au w/ joseph as the other mother and diego as coraline

[thesillyphilly]

Here is some pratt and Joseph

They are so silly. Plus Joseph and his guard dogs (kids)

[dissectress]

and the angel of the lord came unto me

snatching me up from my place of slumber

and took me on high and higher still

until we moved to the spaces betwixt the air itself

[mrwhittaker]

Clarisse Renaldi x Joseph (Young Au )

[simplegenius042]

LATE Music Monday, WIP Wednesday and OC Familiars Quiz

Tagged by @imogenkol @josephseedismyfather @direwombat @noodlecupcakes and @socially-awkward-skeleton

Tagging @adelaidedrubman @raresvtm @derelictheretic @inafieldofdaisies @voidika @cassietrn @aceghosts @icecutioner @shallow-gravy @strangefable @statichvm @cloudofbutterflies92 @carlosoliveiraa @g0dspeeed @wrathfulrook @starsandskies @ladyoriza @la-grosse-patate @thewanderer-000 @omen-speaker @alypink @shellibisshe @josephslittledeputy @skoll-sun-eater @afarcryfrommymain @strafethesesinners @turbo-virgins @florbelles @minilev @justasmolbard @softtidesworld @yokobai and @seedsplease + anyone else who want to join.

With Kinktober over I can catch up to all the Music Mondays, WIP Wednesdays and Quizzes I missed. Music for The UnTitledverse and Life, Despair & Monsters. WIPs will be for The Silver Chronicles, two focusing on the Bloodborne AU while one shows the Coroner!Silva AU. This Quiz will be for characters from my Wings And Horns WIP and A Radioactive Calamity of Love, Bombs & Gore series. Hope you enjoy below the cut:

At the SCP Foundation, there is often hours or days worth of breaching at the sites, whether it be because of a restless anomaly breaking out once more or an experiment gone wrong. This is no different in SCP: Confining Spaces from The UnTitledverse. Sure, some things escape. And sure, personnel die. But eventually a task force is set in to re-contain the anomalies and save the surviving personnel, or any trace of the site is wiped off the face of this Earth depending on how bad things will be. But ultimately, everything is "Fine and Dandy" in the SCP Foundation:

"I was there to witness The victim of a sickness He wants the world to notice That he's not worth the focus He could make an entrance But could not make a friend Now he's got lots of different scratches From trying here and then

And I say liberate your sons and daughters The bush is high, but in the hole there's water You can keep it well and hidden No one's perfect, but it's a living

Hey ho, here he goes Either a little to high, or a little to low Got low self-esteem and vertigo But he thinks he's fine and dandy Hey ho, here he goes Either a little to far, or a little to close He's pretending, that everybody knows He thinks he's fine and dandy

Ring a ring of roses Whoever gets the closest He comes and he goes As the war of the roses Mother wouldn't kiss him 'Cause of his condition Now he's stuck in a prison For his strange disposition

Liberate your sons and daughters The bush is high, but in the hole there's water Do as you will, it's much less work to ignore But if it don't feel good What are you doing it for?

Hey ho, here he goes Either a little to high, or a little to low Got low self-esteem and vertigo But he thinks he's fine and dandy Hey ho, here he goes Either a little to far, or a little to close He's pretending, that everybody knows He thinks he's fine and dandy

Liberate your sons and daughters The bush is high, but in the hole there's water Do as you will, it's much less work to ignore But if it don't feel good What are you doing it for? What are you doing it for? What are you doing it for? What are you doing it for? What are you doing it for? What are you doing it for? What are you doing it for? What are you doing it for? What are you doing it for?

Hey ho, here he goes Either a little to high, or a little to low Got low self-esteem and vertigo But he thinks he's fine and dandy Hey ho, here he goes Either a little to far, or a little to close He's pretending, that everybody knows He thinks he's fine and dandy

Hey ho, here he goes Either a little to high, or a little to low Got low self-esteem and vertigo But he thinks he's fine and dandy Hey ho, here he goes Either a little to far, or a little to close He's pretending, that everybody knows He thinks he's fine and dandy!"

The main crew of protagonists in Life, Despair & Monsters is made up of menagerie of original and canon characters, most of whom have been negatively affected (that's an understatement) by Sir Enigma Malvolio but I don't think I've discussed who exactly they're made up of? So here's (thus far) the cast out for Malvolio's head; Haoyu Anabuki, along with the DDLC crew Monika, Sayori, Yuri and Natsuki (all except Haoyu were targeted by Malvolio in my Doki Doki Literature Club WIP); Hatsukami Hinode, Icarus Galatos and Xavier Tulip, in addition to Hatter and their fellow heroic partners from France, Marinette/Ladybug, Adrien/Chat Noir, Kagami/Ryuko and Luka/Viperion (Marinette was personally targeted by Malvolio while the others were affected by association in my Miraculous: Tales of Ladybug & Chat Noir WIP); Sonya and Jennifer (both victims of Malvolio in my Sonnie's Edge fic); Guenevere & O.R.I.O.N, as well as Morgana, King Arthur and Lancelot (Guenevere & O.R.I.O.N were victims of Malvolio while the latter three were affected by association in my Guenevere WIP); Lora (not personally affected nor targeted, just in it for the adventure, from my Arcane: League of Legends WIP); Rico (affected by association, from my Cyberpunk 2077 WIP); and lastly Sydney, Dina and Sydney (targeted by Malvolio in my I Am Not Okay With This WIP). Now this may be updated with future Love Death + Robots characters or others from other fandoms depending if I can figure out a way for them all to naturally come together. Malvolio actually stopped caring about all of them when he got the data he wanted from them and left, however, when they kill his prized specimen, Edith "Evie" Bloodleech, that's when they get his attention. Here's a song I believe describes both the protags and Malvolio's thought processes toward each other:

"The bass and the tweeters make the speakers go to war Ah, the mighty trumpet brings the freaks out to the floor The bass and the tweeters make the speakers go to war Ah, the mighty trumpet brings the freaks out to the floor."

"Tell me, tell me, where the freaks at? Tell me, tell me, where the freaks at? Freaks at, freaks at, freaks at, freaks at-" "Tell me where the freaks at?!"

("Hey!")

"We get that bass thumpin', people jumpin' all over the world We got them speakers pumpin' Timmy Trumpet for the woman with curves Got that freak flow, freak show Welcome to the cicus Let the leaders lead, preachers preach Welcome to the circus!

Close the curtains on 'em if they're actin' like they never heard us See, we do this for a purpose just to keep that fire burnin' And we don't need no water, let that mother-mother burn Timmy, play your trumpet, let the people go berserk!"

("Hey!")

("Hey!")

"The bass and the tweeters make the speakers go to war Ah, the mighty trumpet brings the freaks out to the floor The bass and the tweeters make the speakers go to war Ah, the mighty trumpet brings the freaks out to the floor."

"Tell me, tell me, where the freaks at? Tell me, tell me, where the freaks at? Freaks at, freaks at, freaks at, freaks at-" "Tell me where the freaks at?!"

First snippet of the FC5/Bloodborne AU features the surprise introduction of Tracey Lader as the Hunter of Hunters! For those who don't know, the purpose of the Hunter of Hunters in Bloodborne (in the game it was Eileen the Crow) was to give mercy killings to Hunters who went insane from their blood lust or kill hunters who probably defected/threaten the safety of everyone. They wear crow garb and plague doctor like clothes (and mask to likely avoid the risk of being infected by the werewolf/Scourge Beast Plague (including the Ashen Blood Plague) with two sickle-like daggers called the "Blade of Mercy". Anyway, this is like two-and-a-half or less hours before Joseph's arrest, and Tracey is (kind of) chilling out with her fellow hunters (who may or may not become her victims depending if they can control their blood lust), and while they're mucking about, she suspects somethings up. Enjoy below:

'The Hunter of Hunters is a watchmen who admonishes those who were once our fellow brothers and sisters but have succumbed to the drunk haze of their own blood lust,' she recalled Paul inform her as he initiated her into the role, 'By taking this Oath, Tracey Lader, you not only adorn yourself the weight of the Garb of Crows and the Blades of Mercy, but you alone burden yourself with the sworn duty of putting your comrades, be they man or beast, friend or foe, out of their maddening misery, should they lose themselves.'

Tracey remembered how Paul sliced across the palm of her left hand, to allow the deep flow of blood to emerge from the necessary cut and had her place her bloody hand on the engraving that all Hunters had sworn bloodlessly to. Like she had once done. However, at that time, with her bleeding palm smearing the Rune of Hunters, it had felt different.

'Do you, Tracey Lader, as the next Hunter of Hunters, pledge yourself to remain strong in the face of your blood addled adversaries... to prevail with resilience and resist against the seduction of your own blood lust... and above all else, show a gracious disposition when taking the life of those you will call your comrades?'

Tracey kept thinking back to the very moment she had pledged herself to this life with a hardened yet sincere "Yes". How heavy the decision felt, to hold herself to the standards her Oath demanded. How Paul alone had crowned her the Hunter of Hunters, with no one to witness her inauguration, but the shadows of those she must follow. She brushed a thumb at the intricately-patterned badge of the crow. The only one to have ever been made.

Bestowed upon another escape from the pain and rage of facing the one person who she could not face, lest her tough persona fall. The ghost who roamed the monastery in those white shawls and was dressed as if she was a bride, a constant reminder of her failure she'd fail to endure if she chose to stay.

Tracey breathed in the floral incense in her mask's beak to calm her nerves, before exhaling. It had been years since she had last visited either the Convent or the Monastery, and many more since she's even spoken with... her.

She spent most of her time in the refurbished Prosperity where the Hunter's Chapel resided, a small chapel-like structure no different from Jerome's in Fall's End or the Lamb of God Church, although it was a story taller than the other two, with the bell tower affectionately referred to as the "Crow's Nest" as her predecessors inhabited the space.

Tracey had been less than impressed by the inheritance, but it was... something for her.

Even if it was in the Henbane, she thought with disgust. The region had undergone... some changes throughout the years, and not just from the Hunter's and Peggies use of it.

Weird shit was just happening here, and she wasn't just referring to the Bliss. No, strange sightings were being reported; some range from dancing women whose laughs echoed in the night sky, plus claims of dark shadow-like figures lurking from the mist or hiding in the corners of their eyes, and the smoke bellowing from makeshift chimneys coming from the abandoned Misery.

Those, however, Tracey personally believed were either Bliss hallucinations or just the cult being fucking shifty, and was also explained as such.

However the other reports were... less explainable. There had been some sort of reports of cloaked and hooded masked figures walking to or from the Peggies Pilgrimage, ringing bells and carrying stretches of wrapped up bodies either collected or disposed of. Not to mention the reports of unfamiliar beasts lurking in the foliage, bio-luminescent fluids sprayed on the few buildings that were here, the disappearances that neither matched what they've come to expect from both beasts and Peggies alike.

Hell, Miss Mable complained about the fucking moon, all because Peaches "didn't act like her usual self", even though she made the claim after a hunt had been completed, so Tracey dismissed that as just Peaches hating the hunt.

She sighed and leaned back against the wood, observing how the sun descended lower, reflecting off the lens of her mask. It would only be another two hours or so before the Sheriff's Department would come arrest Joseph... or so Paul had informed her.

It was... shocking when he said those words over the radio. After years of establishing a good connection with Joseph and his cult in spite of their shady operations, years of listening to her and many other's concerns but dismissing them in an assuring voice, and years of standing up for the Seeds in the face of backlash and gifting them two out of the three bunkers that were dens to the beasts... he finally does something about that wretched man.

At least, it's what Tracey assumes to be his doing. Likely couldn't ignore the warning signs with the recent spur between the county's residents and the Peggies decade-long growth of suspicion and resentment. Maybe trying to save face.

Regardless, if it leads to the downfall of Joseph and his cult, and the Sheriff's Department to get off their asses, Tracey can't not be satisfied by the outcome, right?

Though there was a lingering feeling, just at the back of her mind. A doubtful, bad feeling. And a few questions.

What does Paul get out of this?

It's not like Paul to just let his main ally who supplies him with numbers and resources against the scourge beasts to just be arrested. Hell, even with the beasts numbers almost depleted, they were still an issue. She hated to admit it, but Joseph and his family had been a fundamental reason to why they were succeeding thus far.

She pondered if Paul is doing this to gain all of Eden's Gate' resources and property. Some of which would present an advantage against the remaining beasts, especially if Joseph really had been proven as an obstacle to their goals.

Not only that, but it also would mean Paul would no longer have all of them bound to the restrictions of the Seeds' deal.

While impressive if Paul had truly planned that out, it brought up the problem of how Paul could stake claim on those resources if Paul and the Hunter's weren't collectively affected by the Peggies actions, personal bias and experience notwithstanding. Thinking more on it, Tracey noted how hush-hush Paul had sounded about Joseph's coming arrest.

She's made her objective assumptions on the reasons why Joseph would be getting cuffed, but she never got a clear confirmation from Paul himself before he cut off communication.

The sun blared while the sky grew more orange, and Tracey looked away from it. A reminder of her next question.

Why has Paul allowed this to happen now?

The timing itself didn't sit right with her... not the fact he's allowed this to happen nine years late, but instead with the growing darkness from every second that goes by, the sun gaining closer to the horizon.

She'd thought if Joseph was going to be arrested, Paul would have it occur during the day, or at the very least, at a time dawn would arrive.

Not late evening when the sun was setting. Not at dusk. Not at a time where by the time the Sheriff's Department arrived to Joseph's Compound, they'd all be violating curfew. Not at a moment where the Hunters would need to prep for a potential hunt.

Which lead to her final question...

Why was she and the rest of the Hunters all on stand by?

By now, the Hunters would have gathered their preferred weapons, mapped out the roads and areas where the beasts would most likely linger, set up the traps for the Sanctuary Hunters fortifying and guarding populated areas like Fall's End, the Monastery, the Convent, as well as Eden's Gate property and bunkers.

Plus here, she grimly noted, seeing no signs of the heavily garbed protectors. Nor of Alexander and his squire, Hannah.

Usually, Tracey would be the first to leave... after all, the Hunter of Hunters must take to the shadows during a hunt, and keep tabs on her comrades at all instances, and be swift and effective at the signs of their consumption to darker impulses.

But not this time. Paul had specifically ordered to stand by and await further orders. Not just for her, but some of her fellow hunters as well.

She glanced over to what was once the mayor's office; now a glorified lounge set up by Boshaw and Drubman Jr, with cushioned office chairs dragged out and set about a small bonfire with desks that had bottles of beer and pizza boxes.

The two were fooling about; Sharky blabbering on about some nonsense while fucking around with the parts of his flamethrower, and although Jess didn't seem too annoyed with Sharky's topic of conversation, as she pretended to inspect her arrow, Tracey noticed how she tensed whenever the device branched its aim almost towards her.

Hurk was throwing knives at the empty beer bottles he set up for target practice... to a surprising amount of success, to his delight.

The only one she couldn't find amongst the menagerie was Grace.

"Aren't you hot in that thing?"

Tracey turned to look beside her. Speak of the devil and he may appear, she thought to herself, though replace "devil" with "ally" and "he" with "she" and Tracey found Grace Armstrong in her dark green leather attire. It was reminiscent of her military uniform, but much suited for a hunting beasts rather than dispelling enemies.

"It's the middle of winter," Tracey pointed out gruffly, though Grace didn't seem too phased by her tone, instead she just snorted at her reply.

"Don't you want to at least get some fresh air before you use up all your incense?" Grace inquired, tone neutral. Though Tracey wasn't bothered by it, she understood the other woman's just looking out for her.

However, that didn't mean she wanted to be unprepared in case Paul's orders had some solidity behind it.

"Technically, I'm on the clock," she refuted with an excuse, eyeing the sun's descent closely, "We're all on the clock, and I want to be ready once the Chief Hunter clarifies further commands. And orders are orders."

Grace gave an understanding nod and appeared to take the hint to not push further, but she did say, "I understand. Though hadn't the Chief also ordered for us to stick close together?"

Tracey, with a tilting head, did in fact recall that, "Yeah...?"

"Then you wouldn't mind joining the rest of us by the fire then?" Grace responded with a raised brow. Tracey stared at her with wide eyes, though Grace couldn't likely tell from the beaked mask. Failing to come up with an immediate reply, Grace takes notice and simply states, "You don't have to. I know Boshaw and Drubman are... extreme company."

Tracey snorted at her words, Extreme is an understatement for any member of the Powder Kegs. How Paul approved of the coven was beyond her.

Last snippet of the FC5/Bloodborne AU (before we switch over to the Coroner AU) takes place many, many, many hours and I imagine chapters (probably somewhere in the midway point) after Tracey's last few hours of rest before she is fighting for her damn life. Here is a flashback of Tracey's reaction to Faith becoming their new Vicar after a year or so of being a regular Hunter and never seeing her face after the split, as well as Paul promoting her to Hunter of Hunters. Enjoy below: [TW: Descriptions of decomposing desecrated corpses, maybe borders on gore(?), weird plants and Character Death]

Tracey looked across the treeline through the dark purple shade of the clocktower's window, curled up against the window sill's wall, her hand gripping at the knee of her pants.

Rage, sorrow and confusion were mixing at the forefront of her mind. Wondering... why? Why, why, why, why? Why her? Of all people, why her?!

Tracey didn't think she'd find an answer, until she heard him climbing his way up the ladder to the head of the clocktower, ascending with a creak from each step he put his weight on.

Not far long, she glanced to see the black fingerless leather gloves grip at the last step of the ladder, and the familiar sight of blonde dyed hair was first to ascend as Paul pulled himself up.

He was out of breathe by the time her crawled onto the wooden floor, though she didn't blame him; after all, the clocktower had a lot of ladders required to climb up until one is to reach the top. She only did it because it's the most isolated room in the Monastery.

Which is why Paul must have found her so quickly. She kept her eyes to the window as he looked her way, but through the reflection she could see his hazel eyes perk up just as his lips curved into his signature jovial and excited smile.

"Ah, I knew you'd be here," Paul commented, not noticing the cold glare she sent his way through the glass pane, "Kamski reckoned you ran off, but I begged to differ. Now he owes me ten snails."

He let out a little laugh as he stood up, though when he noticed how she kept her gaze to the view, it faltered to a flat end.

Still keeping on his smile, he adjusted the brace around his left leg (at this point, the monastery had given up on trying to stop him from exerting that leg in spite of very valid medical concerns that he ignores, though on the plus side, Kamski still gives him shit) before he took a step closer as he chose not to beat around the bush, "I had noticed you weren't present for Vicar Faith's inauguration ceremony, which got me worried. Uh, you missed out quite the spectacle."

Tracey cocked her head as she tried to put her emotions into words towards Paul. Though this action seemed to have prompted Paul to tell her what she had intentionally missed out on, "Oh, yes. Once Faith was established the title of Vicar, Silva had taken the initiative in swearing the Old Hunter's to oath her. Took her hand, bowed down as she made her vows, and ended it with a kiss to the new Vicar's knuckles. A tad dramatic, even for her? Sure, but a passionate display of fealty I never expected from her."

Paul trailed off, mumbling some words Tracey didn't care to hear as her fist dug into her leg.

"Why her?" she finally asked the man, though her quiet tone made the words sound rougher when they left her lips.

Paul hummed in question, and approached closer. He placed a hand onto her shoulder, but she whacked it aside, to both of their surprise. She recovered quickly though, looking straight into his surprised hazel eyes as she inquired, louder, "Why Rachel?"

Paul blinked at her, clueless and ignorant, trying to make sense of her question, "Rachel? Your best friend?"

"Former best friend," she hissed out in correction, and grew hotter from the frustration of him not figuring it out, "The one who stayed with that cult to become daddy's little flower girl. THAT Rachel."

Paul sputtered at her words, shocked and confused as he tried to wrap his head around it.

"But Faith can't be Rachel? She's the Seed brothers sister... unless you're insinuating that Joseph adopted Rachel and had her become...," Paul trailed off as he paused and really thought about it, thinking back on things he's heard at some point and corroborating it with this recent information before reaching a realization, "...Huh."

Tracey waited for him to come to the rational conclusion of an apology or even go and rectify the mistake of bringing an untrustworthy ally into his inner circle, but instead he puts a gloved hand to his chin, lost in thought, "That's... actually very useful information. Grazie for letting me know."

Tracey stared at Paul, exasperation only fueling the growing embers of anger as she stood up, "That's it? THAT'S FUCKING IT?! That's all you have to say? Why is it good to know? Why did you put her in a position of power close enough to your own? Why have the Hunters allied with Eden's Gate, despite what I told you about them? WHY, Paul?!"

Chest heaving and breathless, Tracey tried to hold on to her ire, to direct it at someone she thought knew better. Because that'd be easier than confronting HER, wouldn't it?

In spite of her outburst, Paul regarded her with nothing but a concerned gentleness. His gaze was reminiscent of when he first met her; the same balance of pity and empathy he showed when he spoke to a teen with no home and no place in the world, given to her once more while she was barely entering her twenties now.

It was the same, it had to be; there was no condescension, no manner of coddling, just... understanding and patience.

She wondered if this is something he learned as a father while raising Silva. A brief thought came after that too, 'Does he see himself as a father to me?'

She dismissed it though. Paul was like this with every one of his Hunters. She supposed he attain some of his more fatherly qualities into his leadership, but she could understand that the authority of both roles could intersect.

She didn't need a father. Never had. But she respected Paul. He ran a tight ship based on comradery and loyalty, and wasn't afraid to get dirty with them if the situation called for it, something she can't say the same about Joseph and his brothers during her time in the Project, even with his whole bullshit spiel of "I am your father and you are my children".

She supposed, thinking back on it, she had assumed Rachel to be the same as her.

Maybe she should have brought Rachel here instead of listening to that old coot.

Paul slowly moved closer to her, a slight limp to his braced left leg. He was tall, at least a head taller than her, but he wasn't intimidating, not to her at least. Silva was intimidating, but only because it was like she knew things that Tracey didn't, and the latter was fine with that.

Even then, fear wasn't something used to lead here. Fear was a reminder that they were still human.

'Fear is one step away from courage, if you're willing to confront it,' she remembered Elsa once say. The woman was a box of mysteries, and not one Tracey had the patience to unwrap.

"I know you're worried," Paul acknowledged, placing a hand lightly on her shoulder, "I understand your concerns. If I had my way, I'd want nothing to do with the Seeds. But we need help against the beasts, and as luck would have it, the Project has the people and the resources we can utilize, in exchange for giving them the beasts' dens after we eradicate them."

Tracey shook her head as she tried walk past him, but he place another hand on her shoulder. Although it was gentle and held little strength, she decided not to push past him, and let him say his piece.

"I'm not being foolish here, Tracey," he assures her, giving a small pat, "I know their not trustworthy. I know bringing Faith in as our Vicar is a risk. I wouldn't do this unless I was confident I could counter anything they could try."

Tracey felt her outrage begin to dissipate, although it didn't leave completely. She was confused on why he'd still do this in spite of the risks, "Then... why?"

Paul looked away as he pondered an answer; or perhaps, whether or not he should disclose the information to her. Looking back to her though, he cracked and gave in, "Because game recognizes game. They're planners. Schemers. I am aware of the threat they pose, and I want to be able to keep a close eye on them, or at least have leverage."

Tracey narrowed her eyes at Paul; while she was glad he wasn't being ignorant to the threat and acknowledged the danger Eden's Gate can pose, she was alarmed by his last sentence, "Is Ra- Faith leverage?"

Paul cringed. Another contrast from what she's seen between Joseph and Paul; one kept a serene and almost otherworldly act up, as if he was close but still a messiah to be idiolized from afar... like the moon, in a weird sense. Beautiful and appealing from afar, but ugly and desolate up close.

Meanwhile, time after time, she's consistently seen just how... honest Paul was in his expressions. Joy and sadness, amusement and annoyance, patience and anger, pride and disappointment. And sometimes embarrassment. He was so... human, that it almost made her forget how she knew he and his daughter hide things from many people.

But that mostly related to whatever was in their past, some inner workings of the Hunters, and however the fuck 'Enlightenment' works. And frankly, two of those were none of her business, and all three didn't affect the public as far as she was concerned.

Paul spoke once more, though more hesitant she noticed, and less explanatory, "...I don't intend her to be. I really can't say much else than that, Tracey."

Tracey however wanted to confirmation, "But if it came down to it... would you?"

Paul frowned, looking almost apologetic, "I can't get things to go the direction I hope it will go... then sì. I don't like it, and I can guess how you feel, but it'll be the only advantage we have to keep Joseph on a leash. Or at dealt with."

Paul saw how conflict riddled Tracey's face, and he added, "I'm not going to hurt her. That had never been the intention when bringing her in, and you know, that's not what we do here. I need you to trust me, cara puma. Trust that... I can help her see something better than him."

Tracey looked to Paul, how his hazel eyes implored for her to believe in him. Such sincerity that she'd never see through Joseph's serenity. She gave a sigh, "I... guess I can trust you."

Paul looked relieved. Tracey though thought of those white shawls around the dress of the Vicar's garb, crowned by flowers and three blood gems forged by their rune masters Isiah and Gemini. A hauntingly beautiful visage that would roam these halls, and a reminder of how she wasn't enough for her in the end.

And she couldn't face her. Not now. So, she had to tell him, "But... Paul I can't be in the same building as her. I don't want to leave the Hunter's Coven... I really don't but if there's no other option...."

She left the rest unsaid, though seeing how Paul noticed her distress, she realized she didn't have to say it. He understood.

She expected him to accept her words as a resignation, but was surprised by his next words, "There is one..."

Tracey's attention was captured, and Paul continued, "I had wanted to talk to you about this for some time now. You see... in light of Hunter Elsa's death, there had been no successors, whether chosen by her will or volunteering themselves, to take up her mantle of the Hunter of Hunters."

"Silva and I had a discussion about it... trying to figure out who could be a worthy successor to her sorella," Paul explained, and Tracey felt her heat beat pace up as Paul regained eye contact with her, "And we agreed that maybe... if you're willing... it could be you."

Tracey, to put it simply, was at a loss of words. Paul, however, was not, so he continued, "Again, you can refuse. It's less an offer and more of a burden to ask of you. But it might help you get what you want... you can keep to yourself, you're not required to be with groups, only fight when you need to, and you don't have to set foot on the Monastery again. You'll be stationed at Prosperity in the Henbane, where most of the other Hunters reside. You won't ever have to cross paths with Faith, as we're mostly keeping her here and likely visits elsewhere, but not Prosperity."

"It's not ideal, but it's yours if you- woah!" Paul had to balance himself from the weight of the young woman hugging into him. Tracey couldn't fathom how a clusterfuck of a misunderstanding in the form of an accidental kidnapping lead to her finding like-minded people who were ready to fight for the county's freedom against the scourge. Nor the fact they show respect to her as a person.

"Thank you," she softly whispered, the gratitude carrying more weight than just this offer.

Paul slowly returned the embrace, lightly and clearly trying to avoid being too clingy, but he was at least relaxed.

He gave a small calming pat to her back, the rays of sunlight breaking through the window, shining a purple hue through the clocktower's tinted glass , "Anything for my Hunters."

--------

In the darkness that expanded in the maze of the catacombs, the decaying plant growth crunched under the weight of Tracey's boots, despite her cautious steps.

Through her mask's lens, she could see vines and moss cling dead to the walls, the ceiling and the ground. Mold spread along the walls and ceilings, sewage dripping from old rusted pipes and dust circulated in the air. But that wasn't all; there were two other unidentifiable flora growths in this labyrinth.

The first was a fat, pulsing bio-luminescent fungus growing from the cracks of the floor, spewing out what was clearly spores and leaking... something out of its cavity hole. Tracey was thankful to her beaked mask, breathing in the floral incense instead... whatever is in the air.

The second was less flora and more of a mini structure; a packed group of hexagonal prismatic columns stuck to corners of the expanse including the pillars, similar to that of a wasp nest or a beehive. Difference was, Tracey didn't believe these to be made of bee wax or dead leaves. It looked more like yellowed cartilage.

Tracey spotted buzzing yellowjackets writhing inside the hives. She swallowed on nothing, fear keeping her heart pounding, alive and on edge.

She could never picture the monastery having a basement level... especially one so deep. Pots of cremated ash laid at the bottom of the walls, the walls aligned with skulls, the age of which she couldn't tell.

She didn't want to waste time inspecting the architecture of a level she only felt unease in. She called out once more, "Lindsey! Are you here?!"

She saw on the other side of this room another set of doorways wide open, a possible indication that Dr. Lindsey went through there. She shook her head in frustration; this would be the fourth set of doors she'd go through in the Monastery, the first being the base level and the next ones descending further into the basement.

She decided to run through it until she saw the veterinarian or bumped into him.

She sped in a burst, dashing past the doorways, expecting to run down a curve of steps. Instead she stumbled and fell over two steps, managing to at least roll to avoid landing on her face.

She grunted, displeased. Tracey began to stand, pushing one hand down for support, but froze when she hear repulsing squish.

She down to where her gloved hand was, and saw it was pressed inside the decomposing corpse of a man; a Peggie, she noted, seeing the slashed marking of their cross. She retracted her hand away from it, keeping her hand close to the hilt of one blade.

She slowly stood up as she inspected the new room; similar to the architecture of the catacombs, the only difference she found were the four dead trees, the broken gravestones circling close the walls and corners of the room (with exception to the entrance and whatever opening was on the other side of the spore mist) and lastly the abundance of decomposing corpses, human and beast alike, male and female, big and small, strewn across the floor, the ground covered in their collective dried blood.

They all shared the same fatal wounds; one slash across the chests, stomachs and backs, or perhaps missing chunks of their bodies, or skulls busted open, and all having some form of their limbs and heads all separated from the body in a fest of gore. She wasn't even sure if the appendages she can see belong to any of the bodies or if some had been taken to... elsewhere.

Thoughts of the Misery invaded Tracey's mind, but she shook it away. Although what she witnessed there was... horrific, what she can see now was above it, if not equal to-

-elch!

Tracey froze at the distant sound. Heart hammering, she tilted her head, listening closely for small sound. She tensed when she heard it reverberate around the room again.

Squelch!

Breathing heavily, she gripped tightly around both her blades' handles, ready to draw them at the slightest hint of trouble as she maneuvered her steps around the corpses. Gaining closer, she heard it louder.

SQUELCH!

From a small distance, she could see a figure's silhouette through the mist. They lifted their arms, clearly holding a long, sharp-ended or perhaps spiked weapon that requires two hands, before bringing it down again, result in the disturbing squelch, this time with the addition of a crunch.

She unsheathed her blades just a bit, as she gained closer behind her distracted enemy. That's at least what she assumed they were. From the looks of it, human. Sharply dressed in what seemed to be yellow and black hunter's garb. A blood-drunk serial-killing Hunter? Now I've seen everything tonight, she thought to herself.

She found herself eating her words too early as she halted in her approach when she noticed three distinct details.

First, this hunter's figure and small raspy ragged breath indicated that he was male.

Second, he held a curved, hooked staff, the head taking on the familiar appearance of a curled wasp with with spikes along the back for a painful blunt attack.

And third, his left leg was adorned with a brace around it.

Tracey's eyes widened as she recognized who this Hunter was.

The nausea set in when he stopped cutting down the limb of the corpse. A recently bloodied dark-haired corpse that had a red slash across the teal shirt, crimson splotches staining the black vest and dusty grey pants.

The shattered rectangular glasses and dropped busted open med kit, the contents spilled from the fall, were only a confirmation of both the victim's identity and who the culprit was for the other corpses.

He released a deep exhale, while her breaths only increased. He calmly removed one hand from his weapon and leaving his other on it, all the while her hands trembled on the hilt of her blades.

She could only watch as his turned, not all the way, not revealing all of his features, for she didn't need to discern who he was even if he did, but to acknowledge her presence.

"Ah... Lader," Paul drawled out her surname with such serenity that it just sounded wrong. Tracey shuddered as he said, "I knew you'd come here."

[A/n] Psych! It was a flashback and the present moment! Also sorry Charles, but you're canonically friends with Tracey and happiness more-or-less doesn't exist in this AU.

Now let's cut to an AU that's more... not lighthearted but certainly not Bloodborne. A scene of my Coroner!Silva AU that's not actually part of the main Coroner AU fic No Snake, Only A Boa In The Garden since in that fic the Reaping doesn't occur. Pretty much it's less "story with themes and messages and character development stuff" and more "crack treated seriously". I find this version of the AU funny because there is NO badass deputy the Resistance can rely on. Instead they've got Coroner!Silva whose functioning below 4 hours of sleep, drinks when stressed or sad, and she's in no state to fight (at least with guns... she can give a good stab with her dagger but that's as violent as she gets). Like the Resistance here are handling with whatever scraps they can gather (while Eden's Gate has all the good shit) and Silva's utilized just as Lindsey is; aka the closest people they've got to medical professionals (except one usually deals with animals and the other usually deals with dead people). However, thing is, this Silva still knows shit and often gives advice and training, and though she's not fighting on the field, she is doing reconnaissance, marking property for the Resistance and plays messenger between the regions' Resistance. She still upholds Deputy!Silva's tradition of refusing to join the Seed's cult and finding all the ways to inconvenience/piss them off (except for Faith, because Coroner!Silva had the bright idea to attempt seduction and is somehow surprised she ended up in a situationship with the Seed sister). That's the gist of it. Enjoy the few seconds of Nancy's appearance:

Nancy spoke into the headset's microphone once more, desperate to receive any contact back after Earl's panicked voice rang in, "Come in... is everything OK? Over."

Silence responded back, no sound of the Sheriff nor the deputies. Not even the Marshal. Could have something gone wrong? came the worried thought, Had the arrest gone awry? Or had God decided upon their fates?

Feeling a pang of sadness if that was the case, she tried again once more, "Please, are you there? Are you there? Are you there, Sheriff?"

Receiving no response from Earl, she tried the next names that came to mind.

"Deputy Hudson, if you're there please pick up," She repeated, glancing around the room to see if anyone else was there. Specifically the department's coroner, Silva.

She assumed her to still be in her morgue, which brought Nancy a sense of relief.

It wouldn't do that poor woman any good to listen to this, she thought to herself, focusing back to her screen, Dear Lord, if it's within your plan, please spare them. They're important to more people than myself.

"Deputy Pratt? Are you there? Are you there?" she asked frantically, "Earl, com in. Over."

"Please, is anyone there?" Nancy spoke, voice quivering as the silence grew louder, "Please, pick up. I need to know what's going on-"

"Dispatch," came a voice, all too familiar to her, all too gentle, that it put her at ease.

"Oh my god," she breathed out in revered relief, knowing the Father was alright.

"Everything is just fine here," he spoke, his words carrying an assuring weight, a wordless message that told Nancy, They're alive. They're safe. They're with us now. At least that's what Nancy chose to believe as the Father instructed, "No need to call anyone."

Nancy gave a small smile, understanding the meaning of his words. The Reaping has begun. Ensure it remains uninterrupted.

"Yes, Father," she replied through the microphone, knowing her new purpose now, "Praise be to you."

She switched off the call, removing the headset to prepare for her next task.

Though she paused when she heard the clinking sound of metal being dragged off the counter and fast pace of shoes running against the floor.

The last thing Nancy saw as she turned around was the glimpse of a white coat and the end of the coffee maker before pain and then darkness.

---

Silva had not believed herself capable of committing any sort of violence in the present day. She though the days of pain and returning pain onto others was far behind her in this new life of hers.

Although, staring at Nancy's unconscious form that flopped from her seat and onto the floor with a purple-ish bruise already forming on her forehead, had the coroner rethink that belief.

Discarding the now inoperable coffee maker, Silva flicked the communications back on. Grabbing the headset and bringing the microphone muff to one ear, she called out, "Sheriff? Hudson? Pratt? Can you hear me? Over."

She received only static. So she tried once more.

"It's Silva! It's a trap. I repeat, it's a trap. Nancy's one of them," she tried to warn through the call, "Please. Someone respond."

Soon enough, the screen flickered with an error, the call cancelled or some form if interference, she'd assume. Silva slammed the headset down, distressed.

She cursed under her native tongue, dragging a gloved hand through her long dark hair. She looked down to the groaning form of Nancy, a sensation of confused ire at being deceived by someone she thought to at least be a close co-worker.

However, she couldn't focus on Nancy now; the other's were being lead to a trap, or perhaps had been, she couldn't tell. All she overheard was Nancy's affirmative yes to who she could only assume to be the Project's cult leader, and giving her praise to him.

Looking at the coffee maker, she cringed at the thought that perhaps she went a tad far in her reaction, but she digressed; Nancy was a traitor and the few people she could call the closest things to friends were now in danger or worse.

She had to do something. But what?

And finally, the quiz results for two OCs each from Wings And Horns and A Radioactive Calamity of Love, Bombs & Gore:

CADET AZRIEL (WINGS AND HORNS [ORIGINAL WORKS])

JEZEBEL BA'AL (WINGS AND HORNS [ORIGINAL WORK])

NATE GUST SARID (A SYMBOL FOR A BETTER WORLD [FALLOUT 4])

These are all surprisingly more-or-less correct for these three characters.

[axelflare9700]

Kisses in hope county

[socially-awkward-skeleton]

Tagged by @thesingularityseries​​ @shallow-gravy​ @henbased​​  @eclecticwildflowers​​ and @inafieldofdaisies​​

Thank you all!

So I haven’t got much writing going on but I have been working on some art. A hint of the ending of the soulmate AU. I just think Kit deserves to be part of the family at the arrest

Tagging: @adelaidedrubman​​ @direwombat​​ @clicheantagonist​​ @josephslittledeputy​​ @strangefable​​ @florbelles​​ @poetikat​​ @schoute​​ @purplehairsecretlair​​ @trench-rot​ @inquisitors-grave​ @vampireninjabunnies-blog​​ @confidentandgood​​ @roofgeese​​ @derelictheretic​​ @strafethesesinners​​ @detectivelokis​​ @voidika​​ @turbo-virgins​ @redreart​​ @marivenah​​ @nightbloodbix​​ @wrathfulrook​​ @madparadoxum​ and anyone I missed or who has something to share please consider this an open tag :)