#seedsplease

[simplegenius042]

Music Monday & OCs as "Patron Saints of..." Quiz

Tagged by the lovely @inafieldofdaisies @voidika and @cloudofbutterflies92

Tagging @imogenkol @josephseedismyfather @direwombat @noodlecupcakes @socially-awkward-skeleton @adelaidedrubman @hollywood-is-bleeding @derelictheretic @cassietrn @aceghosts @icecutioner @shallow-gravy @strangefable @statichvm @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.

Music Monday for The UnTitledverse, Wings And Horns WIP and A Radioactive Calamity Of Love, Bombs & Gore, and OC quiz results for OCs from The Silver Chronicles and Life, Despair & Monsters. You can find the Quiz here and enjoy listening/reading below the cut:

Remember how I said Lena would be uncovering skeletons from Fazbear Entertainment's closet in my Five Nights at Freddy's WIP More Than Bargained For?. Well, the corpses of children stuffed in animatronics after being murdered by a serial-killing co-founder isn't the only think she discovers; Lena, with the guidance of one "Mike Schmidt", she also uncovers a history of tragedies surrounding one family feud in a house full of nightmares and a forgotten rental service too. Unbeknownst to the young Elliot woman, she is inadvertently aiding Mike under the company's untold policy of "Paragraph 4", with the intent of bringing all Fazbear-related animatronics back to one ultimate pizzeria. What could possibly go wrong?:

"There is a legend A legend born long ago About a wicked A wicked man no one knows Went and unraveled Six innocent little souls

Those souls found bodies The bodies started to move Some say they still walk Walk the halls, staying from view

I got a secret that I am here to tell you That place is this very place And all the stories are true

This world's a scary place We're not monsters, just changed Bigger hands for grabbing ahold We were lost to foul play But we got an upgrade Lots more teeth for eating you whole

Here comes another chapter Your heart is beating faster Because you're the one we're after Five Nights at Freddy's 4 Thank you for bringing us home

We were just like you Like you, just playing a game That's when the wicked Wicked man lead us astray Without a warning Our lives have been rearranged

As for our story The story's not over yet There's still one secret One secret left to be said

Tonight when you are Safely tucked into your bed Close all the doors that you want We're already in your head

This world's a scary place We're not monsters, just changed Bigger hands for grabbing ahold We were lost to foul play But we got an upgrade Lots more teeth for eating you whole

Here comes another chapter Your heart is beating faster Because you're the one we're after Five Nights at Freddy's 4 Thank you for bringing us home

Thank you for bringing us home

Here comes another chapter Your heart is beating faster Because you're the one we're after Five Nights at Freddy's 4 Thank you for bringing us home

Thank you for bringing us home

Thank you for bringing us home

Thank you for bringing us home!"

Now on one hand, I don't initially believe this song actually fits my Wings And Horns WIP. However, on the other hand, in relation to Jezebel Ba'al's story (and maybe a bit of Cadet Azriel's too, being the implied soul of a particular bearded cult leader's dead daughter and all, plus committing to her service as an Angel of Death just so she can finally reach reincarnation), I think this can fit within the context of a story that's centered around the pros and cons of living in a world where a divine system like the Soulmate System exists, especially when you have two young characters like Azriel and Jezebel, the former hearing nothing but good things about having a Soulmate while the latter (and other's like her) have been directly harmed by the system's flawed structure, and how both are influenced by their well-meaning if extreme father/authority figures:

"Down the rabbit hole, we saw you come in Through the glass of our cages chained up where we live Where we live Please don't be afraid We're a little bent Broken souls looking for a way to start again Start again

How can we ever be free When our prison is skin deep Left to rot* underneath Buried us down below so no one sees Daddy's little monsters

Listen to the voice keeping you alive You need us, we need you, it'll be alright Yeah, it's alright We don't wanna stay under lock and key You can help break the curse, we all wanna live** Wanna live**

How can we ever be free When our prison is skin deep Left to rot* underneath Buried us down below so no one sees Daddy's little monsters!"

[*Given rust is more for metal, rot fits well enough for both physical flesh and the "soul flesh" that Cadet Azriel and Jezebel have both experienced. **I used "live" instead of "leave" because even... well... the latter doesn't really make much sense in this context, while the former can be interpreted as Jezebel saying "we all want to live our lives without being it being predestined for us" especially with out trapping being fated to a soulmate can be (especially for the likes of Jezebel whose experienced a bad fating, and Azriel wants to be reincarnated so she can live again, but not be stuck in a similar fate to Jezebel if she gets the chance of rebirth, so at this point, here is where Azriel's opinion on the Soulmate System begins to shift].

In the unnamed Fallout 2 WIP from my A Radioactive Calamity Of Love, Bombs & Gore series, Ore returns to California (where last time he was there, his father Arcane Urias had mutilated his face after Ore declined joining him on his quest of human destruction) after exploring the Wastelands a bit more and to say goodbye to a good friend. However, instead he not only meets his friend's granddaughter Finidy Mona, but also finds evidence that his father has returned in the area. He decides to partner up with Finidy to help him track down and kill his father to stop him and his nefarious deeds by retracing his steps from Shady Sands to New Reno. This also relates to how, chronologically timeline-wise, this WIP is the last prequel of sorts and closing the chapter on Ore's story in California plus Urias and Talos' origins before the focus goes onto Ress.

"You set the stage all by yourself You have a job, do it well And play your part to host their final farewell

An event Just like the first time Put to rest Their souls tonight

It's going back, back, back, back They've been through this before It's going back, back, back, back The final page of the lore The sound of cheer, the need for fear The souls of the kids are free Rewind the tears

It's going back, back, back, back Back, back, back, back, back Back, back, back, back, back Back, back, back, back, back It's going-!"

Now for the quiz results for OCs from my The Silver Chronicles and Life, Despair & Monsters series. Most of these will likely be unfamiliar to you guys:

HUNTRESS CAROLINE JÄGER (THE SILVER CHRONICLES [BLOODBORNE])

Pretty accurate given the ending she gets. Unafraid to face what others refused to see, and too stubborn to look away from it. If it's something she could fix, then the Horrors be damned. Is it a shame, though, if it meant she could no longer wake up from such a terrible, horrible dream, if just to get a glimpse of the rising sun?

HUNTER TOBIAS JÄGER (THE SILVER CHRONICLES [BLOODBORNE])

How different these two are; the sister transcends to something new and unfamiliar, but here, the brother holds onto what made sense and what was once precious to him, even if holding on stops him from moving forward. And all he has to show for it is a fragment of what he lost.

DARKBEAST CONSTANCE (THE SILVER CHRONICLES [BLOODBORNE])

No matter how much he boasts about being true to Yahar'gul's ideals, he is still a lesser man than he is a true beast.

LOGAN THE VAGABOND OF NO RENOWN (THE SILVER CHRONICLES [ELDEN RING])

Fucking poetic considering what he does and who comes crawling out of it. While Logan is an unpleasant and selfish person, he himself becomes a vessel for all the good things he'll pass on to his successor; someone that will succeed against the destined odds where he and everyone else failed.

RICO (LIFE, DESPAIR & MONSTERS [CYBERPUNK 2077])

Staying in Night City (whether it be for the guy you were always at the beck and call of, not just out of loyalty and idealism, but genuine love, even if he didn't necessarily share the same love you felt and eventually became a stranger to you, or for the mentored young woman you see so much life coursing through her veins within a city as horrid as NC, and also see so much of yourself and the other in, yet is cruelly destined for far less than she deserves and spends that little time with others that aren't you, knowing this goodbye is the last goodbye you'll ever make as she leaves behind everything for those final months of something better... or maybe you stay because it's all you've ever known and believe you'll be useful in) does not have much benefits.

LORA (LIFE, DESPAIR & MONSTERS [ARCANE: LEAGUE OF LEGENDS])

Ever wonder if, in spite of how much you try, you're just destined to be alone? Lora chases after something things that won't ever leave her fulfilled or satisfied. In the end it's this that dooms her to solitude.

[chizups]

Patron Saint Quiz Thanks to @seedsplease for tagging me! <3 tagging @thepachy, @skoll-sun-eater and anyone who is interested in participating!

Salome Ann Clock - patron saint of heartbreak not of comfort. not of condolences. there is a heart and there is a fissure, a fracture, something that starts to splinter and break open. you're the patron saint of the way a heart is rent open. the way it tears itself apart. patron saint of the rift. patron saint of the gash. when they say to "open your heart" to somebody, you are the patron saint of bleeding out.

Indeed in the end Salome doesn't just open her heart, but tears it open for other people to gather whatever is inside for their needs, good or bad, kind or evil. This may not show her as a wise character, but this openness in itself does not make her stupid. Rather, she remains hopeful for the best until the very end and believes in redemption for everyone, except perhaps herself. John Seed broke her heart quite a few times, but it still opens to his call.

Dina "Carrot" Sommer - patron saint of obsession patron saint of devotion. of dedication. of passion. of everything you won't call it, in the spaces between. patron saint of holding tight to it until it bleeds. patron saint of pushing it too far. patron saint of staring into the sun until you're blind. patron saint of gazing onto beauty until you can't see anything anymore.

Dina is the quintessence of obsession, a shining example of it. She is obsessed with only one person, but is quantity the measure of her passion? Jacob Seed made her this way and thus created a talisman for himself against imminent death.

Blissed Wisp - patron saint of martyrs the patron saint of those who died to be like you. maybe you died to be like them too: but at the end of it, you weren't like them. patron saint of tragedy. saint of saints. it's you who holds the hands of the holy dead, and you who has to answer: what do they do if they regretted it?

The sufferer, who is no stranger to the suffering of others, creates martyrs and patronizes them, squeezing their cold hands with regret, no matter what side they were on. Hundreds of souls to the glory of Joseph Seed! And her own, with a heavy heart, is still at his feet.

[awful-roffle]

I hate the current tile my pawns live on, but caravanning with ~20 tribal pawns sounds like a nightmare. I don't have seeds for hay or cloth (seedsplease lite) which most of the neolithic level vehicles I got need. What am I supposed to do here? 😭

[hopecountygazette]

Author Spotlight: @seedsplease​

1. Why did you start writing fanfiction? Was Far Cry 5 the first fandom you wrote for? 

My first fanfiction that I actually got into and posted was actually for Naruto haha, and I started that because I really loved the heroine and just wanted to explore her character through writing.

2. Why Far Cry 5? What led you to it? 

The game, the universe, some particular character...I loved the game and thought the idea of Far Cry 5's story was really interesting, but it didn't quite get to go as deep as I would've liked to have seen, so I really liked the idea of trying to explore these characters and this world through fanfiction.

3. Of everything you have written so far, which one is your favorite?

Hmm, I think maybe one of my pre-game AUs, like this one where the Deputy first meets John. I think pre-game stuff is just so fun to write because there's so much tension; it can be a perfectly innocent interaction happening, but because the audience knows what's REALLY going on and the Deputy DOESN'T, there's such a tense undertone there that's just really fun to play around with.

4. Any tips for those who are starting - or considering starting - to write fan fiction?

I really recommend reading your writing out loud, not just for finding little mistakes, but because it's really good for helping you figure out whether dialogue sounds organic, and it also just helps you figure out the flow of sentences. Something can be grammatically correct, but still read a little awkwardly, so I've found that reading out loud can really help me pick up on these things.

[fc5holidayexchange]

FAR CRY 5 HOLIDAY EXCHANGE 2019 FIC

‘redemption’

Deputy Rook Gordon/John Seed

@seedsplease

“Here’s my gift to you Tia! I hope you enjoy it - Rook was a joy to write, and I hope you don’t mind if I write something else for her again someday! Happy holidays! <3”

'Deputy Rook Gordon x John Seed, sharing a bed, fluff, humor, very slight angst, a little hurt/comfort, very very vague description of minor injuries’

Rivulets of icy water drip from the damp ends of her hair and collect in the crease of her neck, soaking the collar of her coat. Rook’s lived in Montana her whole life, knows the cold as well as anyone else that calls Hope County home, but she doesn’t think she’s ever felt it quite like this. Her cheeks are chaffed and numb, she can’t feel the tops of her thighs any longer, and if the tips of her ears aren’t frostbitten, it’ll be a miracle. Cold leeches from her wet clothes into what feels like her bones, and Rook finds herself longing for her tiny apartment above the Spread Eagle and the electric heat that rattles from the radiators.

Still, she thinks, there’s a silver lining to be gleaned from all this — she’s so cold that she can no longer feel just how battered she is from the car accident. Black ice doesn’t care if you’re the leader of the Resistance, she’s learned.

Wind bites at her skin. Rook doesn’t know how long she’s been walking. It feels like hours, but it’s probably only been half of one. When she’d first left the car, her steps were steady and strong, despite the shin-high snow licking at the denim of her jeans. Now, she can barely lift her feet out of the divots they make. Instead, she shuffles forward, leaving behind trenches that lead straight to her.

Over her shoulder, the wreckage of her car looks like a black dot against a white canvas. Ahead of her, she can see the smoky-grey silhouette of what looks like a cabin. She stops in her tracks, snow freezing her feet through her cheap boots, and weighs her options.

Bunker? People in Hope County are paranoid enough that Rook’s been able to find an empty bunker on just about every property she’s stumbled upon. If she’s lucky, there’s one close by, fully stocked with food and blankets. Based on the way the rest of her day’s gone, it’s probably buried under six feet of snow, too.

Cabin? The place looks as empty as anything else in the county these days. The windows are dark and covered in a thin sheen of frost, and snow has started to pile up against the door. Rook hasn’t seen a car for miles; if people live here, they’re doing it off the grid, and they’re doing it very well. She wiggles her frozen fingers and wonders if she has a chance in hell at picking the lock.

Her only other option is trying to find her way back into town before dark. The threat of nightfall has already started to tinge the edges of the sky dark grey, and as much as Rook wishes she could proclaim to know this place like the back of her hand, everything looks the same in the snow. There’s no way she’ll get back to Fall’s End before sunset – especially not on foot.

A shiver forces its way through her body, and Rook clenches her teeth against it, wrapping her arms around herself in search of warmth. It doesn’t come, but it does help her make her decision – if she doesn’t find shelter, if she doesn’t get out of her damp clothes, she’ll freeze to death in the middle of the Montana wilderness.

Too many people are counting on her for her to give up that easily. Too many lives depend on her.

Rook trudges forward, slow but steady. One step becomes another, one foot after the other after the other. Snow tumbles down the crevice between her boot and her foot, soaking through her sock as she walks. It’s another stab of cold to her already frozen body, but it spurs her on. Somehow, she finds herself at the front of the cabin, the door less than a foot away from her. Salvation in the form of pressure-treated wood. 

She wiggles her fingers again, trying to get the feeling back, readying herself for a fight with the lock, when instinct tells her to try the knob. It’s unlikely, improbable, a last ditch effort.

It works. 

Rook turns the knob and finds no resistance. The hinges creak when she pushes the door open, but it still swings inward, offering her a way into the inviting shelter of the cabin. 

She steps inside, feet slippery wet against the wooden floor, and shuts the door against the winter nightmare behind her. Immediately, she feels warmer. A figment of her imagination, maybe, but with the wind off her cheeks and the snow out of her shoes, Rook finds she doesn’t particularly care.

“Looking a little worse for wear, aren’t we, Deputy?”

Fear jolts her into action. Instinctively, she spins in the direction of the voice, dragging her gun from the holster on her hip. The grip feels like ice between her palms as she aims toward her attacker’s head. 

“Oh, fuck.”

John Seed stands in the middle of what looks like the living room, his back to a fireplace that roars with a heat she can feel, even from six feet away. It’s newly lit, the logs dry and hardly singed, and the only conclusion Rook can come to is that John’s only just made it here himself. 

“Language,” he chastises, watching her weapon sway in his direction. 

“Get your hands up,” she demands, hoping her voice sounds steadier than it feels coming out of her mouth. “Up. Get them up.”

To her surprise, he does as she asks. John lifts his arms, palms facing outward and elbows bent. Rook follows the lines of his body. There are clean, dry clothes here, she learns, because John isn’t swathed in his usual getup.

He doesn’t fill the borrowed shirt and sweatpants the way she imagines his eldest brother might - he’s too slender, not as defined, and the baggy clothes make him look more like a confused frat boy than an accomplished lawyer, businessman, and cult leader.

“Now, now, Deputy,” John drawls, a self-satisfied smile plastered across a face that’s paler than Rook remembers. “There’s no need for violence.”

Against her better judgement, Rook snorts.

“That’s rich, coming from you,” she spits out, trying desperately to keep from shivering. Her damp clothes stick to her skin uncomfortably as she adjusts her stance. “Little Johnny have a change of heart? Or is your torture room not doing it for you anymore?”

“Wrath,” he sings quietly, seemingly unfazed. He points a single finger in her direction, the smile still settled in place. “Come now, darling. Surely we can resolve this peacefully. What can I do to make things copacetic between you and I?”

End this fucking holy war, she thinks. Leave Hope County and go back to whatever pit you came from.

Give me back my friends.

“You know, John,” Rook says, filtering the words out through teeth that scream for her to let them chatter, “I could just shoot you. End this now.”

“Oh, you could,” John agrees, his hands steady next to his head. “But I think I have something you want.”

Ice floods her already frozen chest. She has a hazy idea of what he means. 

“Joey Hudson,” he drawls, before she can ask him what he’s talking about. He must catch the flash of desperation that crosses her face, because he nods just once, just like he’s coaxing a frightened animal out of its hiding place. “Hm? An impromptu truce, just for the night, and I’ll let you have your little friend.”

Admitting it to him would be unwise, but she knows she won’t kill John, even if he weren’t agreeing to give up his bargaining chip. There’s blood on her hands, no matter how hard she’s tried to avoid it, and Rook would give her right arm if it meant an end to all the savagery committed across the county - her own acts included. No, she won’t put an end to John Seed in this tiny, barely habitable cabin, but he doesn’t need to know that.

She doesn’t want to die alone in the cold, either. If that means cozying up with the enemy in picturesque Bumfuck Nowhere until her clothes dry and the sun comes out, well - Rook thinks she’d be willing to have a slumber party with just about anyone at this point, just to get a reprieve from the cold.

It’s apparent that she’s been waiting too long to answer. John is watching her with sharp eyes, the gaze of a man who knows what he wants and knows how he’ll get it.

“Well, Deputy?” John taunts, wiggling his fingers. “Do we have a ceasefire? Benevolence in exchange for your precious Joey Hudson?”

She won’t kill him, but god, she wants to hit him. 

There’s a telltale twitch to her hands that says that if she weren’t gripping her gun, they’d be shaking. John picks up on it almost immediately, his eyes flashing, and before he can get a word in edgewise Rook cuts him off.

“Fine,” she agrees, lowering her weapon. “Fine. A ceasefire.”

It’s not a perfect deal, but it’s something. Satisfied, she sets her gun down on the kitchen counter and looks around the cabin. She can feel John’s gaze on her, and out of the corner of her eye, Rook sees that he hasn’t yet moved from his spot by the fireplace. 

“There’s no power,” he supplies helpfully, even as she flicks the light switch next to the kitchen doorway up and down. “No water, either, though the former occupants were kind enough to keep some bottled water in the fridge.”

As thirsty and as famished as she is, the only thing she can think about is getting warm. Her clothes are sticking to her skin, chaffing in places she didn’t think could chafe. Rook turns to John, her damp curls stuck to her neck, and gestures at him with her chin. 

“The dry clothes. Were there more?” 

John nods, eyeing her sodden jacket.

“In the back bedroom,” he says. “There are a few drawers. You may find something that fits.”

She’s halfway to the bedroom before he even finishes his sentence, shedding her layers as she goes - her coat first, which she splays across the floor in front of the fire, then her shoes. When she hears him snicker, Rook looks up.

“What?”

“Nice socks.”

She’d forgotten about those. Her favorite pair, shin height with cat ears and a little nose. The surefire way to brighten a bleary, grey day - that had been her thought process as she’d tugged them on that morning, smiling at the printed whiskers. 

Now they’re soaked, probably ruined, and the center of her enemy’s amusement.

Rook balls one up and chucks it at his head.

—

There’s only one bed. 

It’s the first thing she notices as she steps into the bedroom at the back of the cabin, 

She doesn’t find any pants, but she does find a shirt she could fit inside of three times over. It’s grey and ratty, with the words ‘Testicle Festival’ plastered on the front in faded writing. Beggars can’t be choosers; Rook shrugs it over her head and curls into it. The hem sits just past her knees - her very own oversized nightie - and despite the lack of power or electric heat in the cabin, it makes her feel warm. 

There’s a fur throw tossed over a rocking chair in the corner of the room, and Rook snatches it up before she leaves the room. 

“That bed?” she calls, wandering out into the living area to find John seated on the rickety old couch, “It’s mine. Part of the ceasefire terms.”

The look he fixes her with is toxic, and it makes her unreasonably pleased with herself. 

Rook can feel his eyes on her as she crouches in front of the fire, holding out her hands to leech the heat from the flames. It’s positively heavenly; this cabin may not have running water or functioning electricity, but the warmth of the raging fire mixed with the blessedly dry clothing makes her feel like she could take on the world.

“You’re bleeding.” 

“Hm?”

The warmth is so inviting that she barely hears him as he points out the splotch of blood on her shoulder. Rook twists, body aching, and peers at the bloodstain, tugging at the shirt to get a better look. She’s bleeding, alright, and she’s suddenly more aware of her injuries than she ever was as she trudged through the snow. 

“Shit,” she mutters. So I am. “Is there a first aid kit around here?”

Springs creak as John shifts himself off the couch, his feet gentle against the floor as he pads down the hallway towards what Rook assumes is the bathroom. While she waits, she presses a finger against the spot of blood. It’s wet, fresh, and the pain that follows her own touch makes the corners of her eyes burn with unshed tears. 

A hand on her shoulder brings her back to herself, and she ducks away from the touch. John stands over her, a medkit in one hand and the other clutching the empty spot where she once sat, looking at her curiously.

“What the hell?” Rook frowns, staring at the offending hand like he might just use it to strangle her. When he reaches out for her again, she smacks him away, a noise of discontent tumbling from between her lips. “Quit it!”

“Stay put.”

“What, and let you carve me up like a piece of meat? I’ll pass.”

“I think you’ve done a decent job of that on your own, my dear,” John says. Through the haze of pain, Rook is surprised to find that he sounds genuinely concerned. “Let me help you.”

It’s not a tough call to make - she can’t reach the wound on her back, and she’s pretty sure John isn’t going to make an example of her here. With nobody to show his handiwork to but her, Rook can’t imagine he’s interested in carving her sins into her skin.

Hesitantly, Rook lets him tug the shirt up over her head. His fingers nudge the still-wet band of her bra down a little, giving him better access to whatever cuts and scrapes litter her back. 

“It’s a wonder you’re not dead, yet,” John mutters. “How did you manage this?”

The first brush of an alcohol swab along an open wound rips a hiss from her lungs. Rook jerks from John’s grasp and whines at the pain. 

“Car accident,” she bites out, trying not to twist as he holds her in place. The warmth of his skin against her battered back is an odd mix of pleasant and disquieting. “Ruined my favorite one, too.”

“Better than ruining you,” John muses, though he seems more focused on dressing her wounds than the words that leave his mouth.

The comment makes her cheeks flame. Rook thinks she’ll have to catalogue that particular response for later, so she can work on never reacting quite that strongly again. 

It’s quiet as John works, but Rook’s thoughts swirl around in her head like a storm. Her parents, thousands of miles away and across an ocean - do they think of her as often as she thinks of them? She misses them ferociously, wishes she were there with them now in her homeland instead of sprawled in front of a fire with a man she’s considered a monster playing surgeon on her open wounds. 

That’s another thought that nags at the edges of her consciousness. Why is he helping her?

“Why are you doing this?”

For a while, he doesn’t speak. His hands are unexpectedly gentle as they work along her midsection, washing away spots of blood and tracing over battered skin. The image is oddly dissonant coming from him; Rook remembers being duct-taped to a swivel chair in a room that was tangy with the smell of blood. She remembers the eerie red lighting, the terror in Joey’s eyes as John had entered the room, the manic expression he’d held as he leaned over her with a tattoo gun clasped tightly between his fingers.

She didn’t think those same hands could be capable of kindness.

“You’re hurt,” he says eventually, eyes drifting to her face. He’s just finished taping a thin piece of gauze to the wound in her side, stark white against the bruising just starting to settle in beyond it. “Hardly fair to kick the enemy when she’s down, hm?”

“Fair?” Rook forces herself not to jerk away as John wipes at the gash in her shoulder with the damp cloth. “When have you ever been interested in being fair?”

For what feels like a lifetime, John is quiet. She feels him work at her wounds, hears the sounds of bandages crinkling as he unwraps them and his murmured apologies when she hisses as he presses them to her broken skin. 

“Your definition of ‘fair’ is different than the Project’s.” 

Understatement of the year, Rook thinks. John keeps speaking. 

“You deserve to be saved,” he says softly. Fingers brush against her jaw and tilt it up, until John has her chin clasped between his thumb and forefinger. “You’re strong, smart, capable - everything we’ll need when the Collapse comes. I’m trying to save you, Deputy. I can’t very well do that with you frozen in a ditch somewhere.”

Rook jolts as his fingers skitter over what must be a cut on her forehead. It stings, but it’s still more tolerable than being the recipient of the intensity of John’s stare. A feeling she can’t quite place starts in her chest, fluttering along to the beat of her heart and spreading out toward her fingertips.

His sentiment is skewed, Rook knows, but a far-off part of her thinks that as wrong as it is, it’s also kind of sweet. 

Without thinking about it, she reaches forward to grab John’s wrist. He’s been in the cabin longer than she has, moving around and getting his blood flowing, and his skin is warm where her fingers graze it.

“Thank you,” Rook murmurs, voice low and earnest. “I—thank you.”

John stares at her a moment. His gaze wanders from her eyes to where her fingers curl around his wrist and back again.

“Careful, Deputy,” he says eventually, twisting in her grip just enough so he can grab her hand. “If I didn’t know any better, I might think you’ve grown fond of me.”

The heat fades from her hand as John lets her go, turning toward the living room. 

Eden’s Gate is manipulative, wrong, dangerous. John, his brothers and his sister, their followers - at best, they’re disillusioned believers feeding on the tragedy they hear and see in the world. At worst, they know exactly what it is they’re doing. At worst, they’re hiding their horrors under the guise of a religion that claims to save.

Eventually, she relents.

“We can share the bed,” Rook says tentatively. John looks up at her curiously, one of the fur throws still clutched in his hands as he stands next to the sofa. “It’s probably better that way.” 

The grin he gives her is uncannily sharp. It’s predatory; all teeth and curled lips, compensation for his brief moment of vulnerability, and it makes her wonder if she’s just made a terrible misstep. He looks thrilled, like he’s never been offered a more lucrative deal in his life. Slowly, that awful, smug smile crawls back into place.

“Change of heart, darling?”

“Shut up,” she scowls, regretting every nice thing she’s ever said to him. “We can both use the body heat, that’s all.”

He follows her down the hall, past their still-burning fire and into the bedroom.

“This,” Rook says sternly, patting out a thin strip of space in the middle of the bed, “is the demilitarized zone. Stay out. Don’t get any ideas.”

When she looks up, John is standing at the edge of the bed, eyes dancing with what looks like amusement. A fluttering starts low in her stomach, and Rook has to swallow the feeling down. She tenses her shoulders and focuses on the stab of pain that radiates from her wound – a distraction from the nervous energy she feels as John stares at her.

“You have my word,” he agrees, placing his hand over his heart. “Scout’s honor.”

Rook can’t help the way her eyes roll back into her head. She tugs the blankets down and slips into the bed, curling on her side. The covers offer a warmth she’s been missing since the minute she stepped out of her ruined car, and as she pulls them up to her ears, she feels safer than she has in hours. 

Next to her, the bed sinks as John slides in next to her. 

It’s a dark night. Rook has her back to the window, but she can tell the moon is only a sliver in the sky based on the depth of the shadows in the bedroom. Nights like this, she wishes she could be outside, staring up at the inky black sky and the stars that lie across it.

Their skin doesn’t touch, not with Rook’s mandated safe-space between them, but she can still feel the heat that John’s body generates as he lies next to her. Something about it is comforting - she doesn’t remember the last time she was this close to somebody. 

The bed shakes as John jostles around next to her. A curious part of Rook wonders if he’s always like this – always moving, always trying to settle himself, always looking for comfort.

“Tell me something, Deputy.”

John’s voice startles her. She rolls over to find him on his back, gazing up at the wooden boards that make up the ceiling. Talking to him as she lays next to him in bed seems too intimate, too close; it’s not something she’d planned to spend her evening doing.

“It’s late. We should sleep.”

A weak effort to shut him down, Rook learns. A smile quirks his face, and he huffs out a sound that might be a laugh. 

“Humour me,” he murmurs. “How did you end up in Montana?”

Rook settles on her back next to him, perplexed by the question. Is this a new game he’s playing? Is this another tactic to play with her emotions? She tugs the blankets higher, curling them just under her chin. The thought of looking John in the eyes has her skin itching, so she keeps her gaze firmly on the ceiling.

“My parents are from Fyvie, Scotland,” she says. Her voice is quiet, but it sounds loud and echoey as it travels through the room. “My mother got a job teaching, so she and my father moved here before I was born. I grew up in Helena.”

Silence settles over the room. Rook finds it deafening, almost unbearable, and the nervous energy settling in her chest implores her to speak to fill the void.

“What about you?”

The words come so suddenly, so unbidden, that Rook almost doesn’t realize she’s said them until John turns his head towards her. 

“I—” John starts, then cuts himself off suddenly. A few quiet seconds pass before he speaks again. “I followed Joseph.”

“I read his book.”

She knows her voice is tentative. She’s read the Book of Joseph – know thy enemy, and all that – and the stories of John’s childhood had all but gutted her. If it’s all true, then it explains a lot. If it’s a carefully crafted lie, well – the Seeds were never very trustworthy to begin with. 

“Then you know most of the story already,” John says easily, as if it isn’t a story filled with horrors. “Joseph found me in Atlanta, a shell of the boy he once knew, and rescued me. The life I was living before he found me…it was shameful. I was shameful. But Joseph, he looked past it. He saved me.”

The room is silent, save for the gentle noise of their mingled breathing. Outside, the wind has died down. The cabin no longer creaks under the pressure of snow squalls and ice pellets, doesn’t ache quite as much with the vestiges of the cold outdoors. Next to John, Rook is warm and comfortable despite the cuts and the bruises. 

“When my brothers and I found each other again, it was like all the broken pieces had finally settled into place. My sins, my addictions - they were my weaknesses, but they served a purpose. They helped put my family back together. After twenty years apart, we were suddenly back together, eating the wrong kind of soup in the dining room of my apartment, reminiscing about the night our biological father was arrested. All of those things brought me here.”

It’s not a story Rook expected. It makes the empath in her ache, makes her want to soothe this man who’s done nothing but torture her and her friends. It makes him a human, flesh and blood, for the very first time.

“You know, Deputy,” John muses, “I think you might be the first person I’ve ever told that story to.”

Rook’s heart stutters uneasily in her chest, an unexpected reaction to the vulnerability in his words, and she rolls her head to the side. John’s jaw is tight and tense, and she can almost feel the uncertainty that seems to roll off him.

Tentatively, she slides her arm toward him under the covers, past the safety net of space, and takes his hand. John freezes, like her touch borders on painful, then relaxes into her hold, squeezing her hand tightly. His skin is warm and soft where their fingers lace together.

Time seems to pass slowly the longer they lay there together. Dim light, just the light of those handfuls of stars, filters through the window. In the corner of her eye, Rook can map the profile of John’s face.

“You’re full of surprises, Baptist,” Rook murmurs sleepily. “Didn’t think you knew how to be kind.”

It’s so quiet that she thinks John may not have heard her, that he may have finally, mercifully fallen asleep. Waves of exhaustion lap at the edges of her consciousness, begging her to give in and rest. 

If he has anything else to say, Rook doesn’t hear it. Their hands still linked together, she lets herself drift away. 

—

Rook wakes, eyes heavy with the last dregs of sleep, and very nearly forgets where she is.

It takes longer than she’d like to realize that she’s not in her homey apartment above the Spread Eagle. There are no colourful pillows in this bed, no throw tossed over the back of the chair in the corner. The shadows don’t fall across the hardwood floor in quite the same way.

She’s warm in a way she didn’t think possible. It melts into her clothes from the body pressed against her, seeps into her bones at all the junctures where they touch, comforts in a way that’s unfamiliar but not at all wrong. 

Jagged lines of scarred lettering greet her as she blinks the sleep from her eyes. Sloth, it reads, a sin carved into flesh in a desperate attempt at absolution. The realization that this is John Seed she’s curled against, that he has his arms draped over her and her head tucked beneath his chin, doesn’t terrify her the way she thinks it should. 

He looks content. That’s the only word she can use to describe him as she follows the lines and scars of his body, the inky black marks of his tattoos that tell more of a story than any book ever could. John’s face is slack, relaxed, and for a moment Rook thinks she looks more like the boy she read about in the Book of Joseph than she ever thought possible. He’s soft, gentle; he’s not the monster the Valley has made him out to be. Not in this moment. 

Rook reaches out to drag the tip of a finger across each letter. She curls the pad of it around the ‘s’, scrapes the edge of her nail down the ‘l’, feels the bumpy surface of the ‘o’, the ‘t’, the ‘h’. 

Her mind is hazy, but she knows she has to get up. People will be looking for her, and if they find her wrecked car, the Resistance will send out the cavalry. This isn’t the place she wants to be when Sharky shows up wielding a flamethrower. 

Tentatively, hesitantly, she slides out from John’s embrace. His arm is loose around her, slack with sleep, and she knows he won’t wake as she slips out of bed and stands next to him. Rook can see into the hallway, sees her clothing spread out in front of the dying embers of the fire. With any luck, it’ll be more or less dry when she wanders out. With any luck, her socks won’t be destroyed. 

Sunlight filters in through the one window in the room. The warmth of John’s body is fading from her skin, but she thinks the worst of the cold is behind her. 

There’s a blue, fur throw crumpled into a ball on the floor next to the bed. Rook picks it up and shakes it out, then leans forward to drape it across John’s sleeping form. She gets close enough to brush her lips against his forehead.

Then, she’s gone. 

[naromoreau]

Snowed in

This one is for @seedsplease, you asked me for soft nsfw in front of the fire place at the Ranch. I hope you like how this turned up, because I don’t know where all the angst came from XD. Thank you! ________________________________________ Pairing: John Seed x Reader, John Seed x Deputy Raiting: NSFW You dragged the dead weight of the rifle slumping down your body, the muzzle carving a zigzag pattern on the fresh mud, and the strap digging a painful crease on the flesh of your shoulder. Maybe leaving everyone behind at Fall’s End wouldn’t be counted among your greatest decisions yet still you got what you wanted.

Striding under the heavy rain, your legs grumbled for the harsh treatment while the last rays of the winterly pale sun riddled through the foliage like through a sieve. The chill air seeped through your jacket, gnawing at your very bones, the freezing sensation magnified by your soaked clothes. If you could only find a fucking truck, before the drowsiness took over your brain, and even the voice in your head started to slur your panic.

The inclined path followed for a few yards carpeted by interspersed turfs. You lost your footing stepping into a divot, cursing between clicking teeth, until you spotted a wooden building greeting you in the distance. “Well, fuck me.” With no map and no GPS, you managed to land your ass at the front of Seed Ranch, the first place you wanted go, yet the last place it was good for you.

You hid a growl making your stealthy way around as much as your pained ankle allowed it, noticing that due to the unbearable cold all the guards had been removed. You dashed among crates and barrels while above you the now purple sky unleashed a cleansing fury, every drop of water drubbing in staccato over you, like under the direction of an overexcited conductor.

Your lungs fought to give you the air you needed, and well, perhaps it was time to actually rest for a bit. The flooded surface splashed under your boots as you sought an almost dry spot, and crouched in a secluded corner. Around you the rain turned into soft snow, delicate flakes carried by the wind, and you glanced at your nails. They were blue. It wasn’t that bad, you thought, as you forced your fingers to grip the flesh of your own arms and your teeth chattered uncontrollably, biting the tip of your tongue. The coppery flavor of your blood swamped in your mouth but the pain was almost nonexistent. The edges of your sight blurred into jagged black, before you catched faint, muffled footsteps approaching you. If you could only move your hand.

“My dear Deputy, what do I owe this honour?” John Seed ducked next to you before reaching a hand to touch your almost comatose body. “Shit, deputy, you’re freezing!” His voice tapped in your ear, the mocking tone completely gone and replaced by strained anguish as he got rid of his coat, putting it over you in a swift movement.

He lifted you from the ground, cradling you against his chest, protective hands grasping you hard. “It’s ok, my dear, everything is going to be alright,” he reassured you whispering into your ear, and the only thing you could do was shudder like a newborn pigeon.

Now he was almost running into the house, but his words still reached your words under a steady rhythm. “Hey, darling, hey!” he muttered as your conscience balanced at the edge of oblivion, “focus on my voice, don’t fall asleep Deputy, don’t!”

You tried, even if half your mind wanted to, just because it was him, and you’d go to great lengths to sour his life, but the desperation running on every word was a whiplash in your face. It must’ve been important.

“How do you get yourself in this kind of–” he trailed off, clutching you even tighter against him and you leaned into him. “It’s alright, sh, you’re safe now,” he said with a sense of finality.

You crossed the threshold of the house once you saw as an enemy fort, securely in his arms, and it irked you how good it felt. His spicy mint scent was one of the few things you were still able to recognize and it grounded you, every little wisp traveling to your haggard brain, reminding you who you were, who he was, even if you were still too weak to respond.

He placed you on the bearskin rug in front of the big fire at the center of the living room, tossing carelessly his soaked coat aside. Your entire body shuddered as he peeled the layers of sodden cloth out of your body.

“Listen to me, deputy, I’m not going to harm you,” he said taking off your boots and pulling down your jeans, “but you’ll die if I don’t get these off you,  you hear me?”

You locked eyes with him, and it striked you the deep concern etched in his brow, blue eyes surveying your face almost with pain. You lied naked on the rug in no time and he dashed off your side just to comeback ten seconds later carrying two magnificent wool blankets he placed over you. He was as soaked as you, and you lifted a dainty finger to point at him.

“John,” you finally said with a gruesome effort, “your clothes– wet–cold.”

He chuckled, grasping your hand. “My dear, you’re at the verge of dying yet you still worry about me, even though I haven’t treated you in the most gracious way.”

His hands made short work of his vest, and his shirt, and kneeled as he was next to you, you reached your fingers to trace the skein of tattoos and scars. The numbing cold was dissipating slowly, but now all you wanted to do was wrap your arms around him, to live again the fleeting moment when you were able to hear his heartbeat.

“Come,” you said, blinking slowly, “please, I’m cold.”

He looked at you as if he couldn’t believe your words, and quickly shuck off his trousers, sliding next to you under the blankets. He was warmer than you and between the strong fire at your back and the maddening heat in front of you, you finally felt a bit more alive.

You closed your arms around his body, pressing every inch of you to every inch of him, and he rubbed your arms and back, trying to diminish the shivers and goosebumps that flared on your skin. You tilted your head up, catching the blush on his cheeks, as your feet bumped against his shins and your muscles relaxed.

“Are you feeling better?,” he asked you with a wavering voice, and it only took you a roll of your hips to know why.

“Yes,” you said with the faintest of whispers, “but– I don’t– why are you doing this?”

He heaved a hard sigh, that mingled with yours, his arm possessively tugged around your waist. “I– don’t know, I don’t know really, maybe you’re waiting for this groundbreaking reason, but the truth is I don’t know.” He shifted in your arms, holding you even tighter. “Maybe is a sin, and it clouds my mind, but when I saw you there, dying out of cold, I told myself I couldn’t let that happen.”

“Because of Joseph?” you offered.

“No, no, no,” he said placing his chin on the crown of your head, “no, little bird, because of me. What if I told you, you changed something,” he grabbed your hand and placed it over his heart, “in here? You unburdened me, but I know I’m a sinner, and you’d never say–”

“Yes.” You gave your hips another roll and trapped his hard cock between your legs, his chest heaving with hitching breaths.

“Are- are you sure?” he gruffed, blue eyes delving deep into yours.

You kissed him as a whole answer, his tongue warring for dominance and you let him, your hips rocking with his rock hard cock rubbing between your folds. His mouth trailed down your neck, teeth nipping at your skin hard enough to bruise. He flipped you on your back and pinned down your wrists to the rug, your thighs clasping at his hard on.

“You really have no idea what you do to me, don’t you, sweetheart?” He whispered with a sliver of something wicked in his voice, and god in heaven, a gush of liquid trickled down the apex of your thighs.

A moaned escaped you, as he palmed one breast, diving down to catch your nipple in his mouth, his other hand stealing down your abdomen, his fingers trickling at your entrance and curling over your clit. “A little excited are we not?”

You wanted to respond, but your words were dulled by your whimpers, his voice soaking into your skin. He thrust forward, the friction of his dick against your clit, dragging small hums of pleasure out of your throat.

“Please, John,” you begged, your fingernails raking as he moved, pressing against you in all the right ways.

Your legs fell open, circling around his waist and now it was his time to gasp and groan as you closed your hand around his dick, to align him to your entrance just so. He devoured your lips as he slid slowly inside you, giving you time to adjust to every inch intruding in you. And you were certainly thankful for it, because he was by far the biggest you’d ever take. Your rough exhalations fanned against his neck and a growl tore from his throat unbidden the second he was fully inside you.

“My dear, you feel like heaven,” he grunted against your lips, now rocking his hips and you realized this was going to be a very short trip to the end line. Every ridge and vein in his cock stroked in all the right angles, his tip hitting against your sweet spot making you writhe and cry out with every thrust of his hips.

You were bracketed between his arms, his body arching against yours, and your legs closed tighter around him. You wanted him closer, wanted to trip over the line of your orgasm, grazing at it with every pump, with every assault of his cock to your cunt.

“Don’t fight it,” he mumbled, and it didn’t surprised you when your walls clenched around him, your back arching as the spark of white flared up behind your eyelids.

He kneeled between your thighs, hoisting your hips up and slammed every inch of that delicious dick inside you. “God, you feel good, so wet, so tight,” he breathed to the empty living room, “and just for me, my Deputy, my little bird.”

With a feral growl he came inside you, his body shaking apart until he finally collapsed on top of you.

He propped on one elbow, kissing every free spot in your face, tucking your hair behind your ear. “I didn’t save you for you to be bound to me by an obligation,” he said with a neutral tone but a possessive hand curled around you, fastening you to him, and you suspected that pushing him away would swiftly bring back the Inquisitor from deep within him. “You can leave if you want.”

It was really lucky that what you felt, was solid enough to keep yourself steady under those hypnotic blue eyes. “I want to stay, John, because of you, not because I’m bound to,” you said, reveling in the sensation of his come now dripping down your thighs. “I’m yours.”

He smiled giving you a sloppy kiss, all fervor and yearning, as through the window the flakes eddied down in the freezing wind.

[lexieheron]

Happy birthday to our sweet goat baby @seedsplease! I hope this day would be sunny and amazing for you honey, that you’ll surround yourself with people who love you and take care of you and make you feel great! 💖💖 Have fun babey Tia! 

We made this piece together with @naromoreau! Your Rook deserves some good smooches under YES sign 😊😉

[farcry5positivity]

I'd like to give some love to @seedsplease - she's incredible and kind and one of the first people in the fandom to welcome me. Plus, her writing is stunning!            

[outranks]

I KNOW I'VE ALREADY SAID IT BUT AHHHH HAPPY BIRTHDAY LAD, THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR BEING SUCH AN AMAZING FRIEND AND AHH I'M SO GLAD I GOT TO KNOW YOU ♥ ♥ ♥ - tia

THANK YOU TIA!! for being the best person ive met in this fandom and making everything more enjoyable😭❤️❤️❤️❤️ idk if id still be here if we hadn’t started chatting every day and playing co op and sharing an entire braincell

[solesurvivorkat]

tumblr crushes challenge: where you post your own favorite blogs to spread positivity and get your amazing blogger-friends some more followers!

I was mentioned in a tag by @ton-of-bryks...

...which was surprising, b/c I know I'd liked your posts more than once, but I didn't know I'd caught your eye! Thank you - it definitely gave me a little lift! :-D <3

There's MANY blogs I follow, and many I enjoy... so if I don't mention you, please don't be offended and/or think you weren't good enough for a mention! I've been very busy this weekend and want to get some writing & FC5 gameplay in tonight (and I'm already very tired), so I'm gonna make this as quick as I can.

- @scorpio-skies = I would be very remiss to not mention you - not ONLY b/c you've been beyond amazing beta-ing my FO4 fanfic (and I would've been so lost w/o you thus far), but also b/c I always really enjoy the things you post! ❤

- @seedsplease = Started following you more recently, but I looooove reading the different FC5 stuff you post! The fics/ficlets are always awesome and I always really enjoy them!

- @teamhawkeye = No surprise here I'm sure, but your writing is some of my absolute FAVORITE to read, but I also love your drawings and your gameplay clips! Seriously - if you're into Far Cry 5, do NOT miss this blog!!!

- @the-dubstep-strawberry = Your FO4 fic is seriously so amazing, and I love talking with you! I always greatly enjoy our chats and you're such a sweetie! So glad you're my Tumblr buddy!

There are seriously many more people worth mentioning, but I'd be here all night! Just know that if I follow you or like your posts then I think you're awesome - and even if I don't, hit me up and I'd love to make more online buddies! And if any of you are ever on XBox Live & want to chat or anything: Katies XBoxName (...seriously, that's what it is, LOL). Feel free to say hi! :)

[martymcgee]

A variety of assortments.. Seeds please.. #mcgeehomegarden #seeds #seedsplease #donatedseeds #fortbraggca #fortbragglibrary #fortbraggbranchlibrary #fortbraggseedlibrary #seedlibrary (at Inglenook, California) https://www.instagram.com/p/BzFFb9ZFFgu/?igshid=1aizfw43kdl8y

[simplegenius042]

Music Monday & WIP Wednesday

Tagging @imogenkol @josephseedismyfather @direwombat @noodlecupcakes @socially-awkward-skeleton @adelaidedrubman @hollywood-is-bleeding @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.

Music Monday for two The UnTitledverse WIPs and one from A Radioactive Calamity of Love, Bombs & Gore and a WIP Wednesday for the The Silver Chronicles. For the next three-and-a-half weeks I'll be posting on Music Monday's songs traditionally about Five Nights At Freddy's and how I try to justify how they fit into my wacky little worlds (even the non-FNAF ones). Enjoy listening and reading below the cut:

Can't have a Five Nights at Freddy's WIP without The Living Tombstone's original "Five Nights At Freddy's Song" in the playlist. More Than Bargained For? is a FNAF WIP where my OC Lillian "Lena" Elliot becomes the Night Guard of Freddy Fazbear's Pizza after Fazbear Entertainment opens up the restaurant back up eleven years after 1994 (the events of the first game and when Mike is fired), because they find there are people who view the pizzeria as a "cult classic" type thing and are still fans since childhood of the place (Lena being amongst them), and Fazbear Entertainment will make a profit on that. The original animatronics (Freddy, Bonnie, Chica and Foxy, along with Golden Freddy but he's in the Parts/Service room) are brought back to the stage. There's a... stranger animatronic in the kitchen but he doesn't bother leaving there so Lena won't have much trouble from him. Follow Lena as she discovers how many skeletons are actually in the Fazbear Entertainment's closet (Like seriously, the amount of children and employees who have died under this company's watch is ridiculous and the fact they managed to come back many years later after their reputation was tarnished beyond repair). Listen below:

"We're waiting every night To finally roam and invite Newcomers to play with us For many years we've been all alone

We're forced to be still and play The same songs we've known since that day An imposter took our life away Now we're stuck here to decay

Please let us get in Don't lock us away We're not what you're thinking

We're poor little souls Who have lost all control And we're forced here to take that role We've been all alone Stuck in our little zone Since 1987

Join us, be our friend Or just be stuck and defend After all, you only got

Five nights at Freddy's Is this where you wanna be? I just don't get it Why do you want to stay?

Five nights at Freddy's Is there you wanna be? I just don't get it Why do you want to stay? Five nights at Freddy's, oh

We're really quite surprised We get to see you another night You should have looked for another job You should have said to this place goodbye It's like there's so much more Maybe you've been in this place before We remember a face like yours You seem acquainted with those doors

Please let us get in Don't lock us away We're not what you're thinking

We're poor little souls Who have lost all control And we're forced here to take that role We've been all alone Stuck in our little zone Since 1987

Join us, be our friend Or just be stuck and defend After all, you only got

Five nights at Freddy's Is this where you wanna be? I just don't get it Why do you want to stay?

Five nights at Freddy's Is there you wanna be? I just don't get it Why do you want to stay? Five nights at Freddy's, oh!"

"Replay Your Nightmares", although a song usually meant for FNAF: Ultimate Custom Night or at some stages, FNAF 3, is a song I closely associate to my The UnTitledverse Original Work, the sequel to A Blast In The Past, known as The Dark Awakening. Pretty much near the conclusion to when Calvin escapes the clutches of his captor's purgatory and re-enters the physical human realm several decades after his death/imprisonment, though he is being severely gaslighted worst than he has before while on his way to finally escape. He manages to make a little comeback at his captor near the final verse of the lyrics though. Listen below:

"In a loop inside the screen Your own prison in a dream Try to run and try to scream Even death can't save you

We replay your nightmare Replay, play, play your nightmare Replay your nightmare Replay, play, play your nightmare

Get in a cage While we rattle it While we rattle it Our eternal revenge We know what you did We know what you did." "IT'S ME", "It's Me", "it's me..." "We're all here just for you Get in a cage While we rattle it While we rattle it Forever!"

"Torture, torture, don't you know How your seeds of evil grow?

Replay your nightmare Cause he won't stop Replay your nightmare Come, it's your time to hurt."

"Get in a cage While we rattle it While we rattle it Our eternal revenge We know what you did We know what you did." "IT'S ME", "It's Me", "it's me..." "We're all here just for you Get in a cage While we rattle it While we rattle it Forever!

Over and over and over again Replay your nightmare Over and over and over again Replay your nightmare."

"We are remnants of your sins It's a game you'll never win When it's done it just begins Again and again, and again, and again You will pay for what you did Forever!"

Last song is "It's Me", and while not entirely connected to the Fallout world (especially my A Radioactive Calamity of Love, Bombs & Gore), I do believe it does fit in one specific section of The Waters Of Life Flow; after Alph (my Lone Wanderer OC) and Ore (Ortega Brantley, Ress' older half-brother) rediscover Blackhall as a corpse (without the Krivbeknih) in his manor, plus reconvening with Amata before they go look for Ress, both humans inform Ore of what they discovered down in the Dunwich Building's basement, Ore takes investigation there. When he finds the Obelisk, he discovers a recently failed ritual, and puts the evidence together to figure out who was behind the recent emergence of this "Occult"; his and Ress' father, Arcane Urias, the exact man he's been hunting down. Although he should go out and warn the others, he regrettably finds out he was, in fact, not alone in the office building. Listen below:

"Welcome to your office, settle down and take a seat Please pay no attention to the terrifying screams You should head the warnings of the voice that's on the phone Tonight, you might be by yourself, but you are not alone

The masks that we wear Pretend they aren't there But you can only hide for so long

Why don't you Spend the night Then you'll find There's evil that waits inside Spend the night Then you'll find There's evil that waits inside Spend the night Then you'll find There's evil that waits inside Spend the night Then you'll find There's evil that waits inside

It's me Me, me, me, me, me, me, me, me Me, me, me, me, me, me, me, me

There's evil that waits inside It's me!"

Now it's time for another WIP of my FC5 Bloodborne AU from my The Silver Chronicles series. Here the Seed Brothers (along with some disgruntled Hunters aka this version of the GFH and certain OCs) have stormed the Convent in the Henbane and confronted Vicar Faith on her betrayal and wanting answers for what Paul has planned for the "Hunt of the Long Night" that has made the scourge beasts ten-times worst. I haven't shown it (for reasons) but Faith calls Joseph specifically out for, quite frankly, abandoning and disregarding her (after all, he did hand her alone to Paul and his monastery as an inside-woman but neglected to actually keep in touch for about six long years) as some kind of tool instead of the "sister" he once claimed her to be. In the snippet below, the Voice shows it's ugly head and urges Joseph to dispose of Faith, something that John and Jacob are already advocating for, with some varying reactions from the Hunters. They're interrupted by... someone not affiliated with any of them. Will probably fix this up in the final product. Now introduced in her first debut... may I officially have you acquainted with my new-ish OC, Priestess Lillith; and she's also probably a witch. Read below:

Joseph stepped back from the Vicar and her vicious words; shocked by the accusations of the woman in front of him, once a sister he had brought into his family, by choice and virtue. The girl healed of her vices, given new life, a new purpose.

"Enough of this," John said with vehement venom, his blue eyes fueled with rage towards the cretin kneeling in the middle of the Convent's hall, "She won't tell us anything, if she even knows anything. We should vanquish this sinner while we have the chance brother, given she's chosen who she stands by."

Joseph saw that Jacob nodded in agreement, scowling at Faith's small form. He noticed the other Hunters made no dissuading moves, apparently in silent agreement. Before the Father could make any response to his eager brothers, he heard the Voice

John is right, He told him, tone even and still, the humming warmth pressed to the edges of his mind, She is a vile, treacherous locust strayed too far from the Path, Joseph. Unable to be saved from the doubt she drowned in.

Joseph's breath hitched at His words, the panicked, yet still sneering wrath in her green eyes only proving Him correct, followed by, She is no longer your family Joseph. This wretch has forsaken My light. She is nothing more than a rival. And she must be eliminated as such.

Joseph hesitated, took a moment to glance at Faith's form, as she lowered her head, holding the Vicar's pendant to her chest as she whispered. Maybe a prayer? Maybe a silent confession, apology, or vow? He didn't know, but what he did know was that the Voice spoke truth; she could no longer be considered the young woman he selected to hold the honor of being his sister.

It pained him to admit, considering all she gave to them in her devotion, but she was no longer family, like the previous two before her.

She was no longer his Faith, instead, she was Yellowjack's Siren, twisted and stained with the false shepherd's sinful ideals to spread false hope to the scholars of his Monastery, to turn their devotees against the Project.

He gave a disappointed sigh as he watched the woman below him refuse to lift her head up, shaking as the consequences of her betrayal was upon her, and nodded in agreement to his brother's words.

They couldn't let her warn Yellowjack, nor let her lead the Church Hunter's after them. This was God's Will.

"You... were once so precious to me, sister," Joseph tells her, and saw how she only curled into herself more, the fear she let dominate her heart sting his own, "I had thought you would be with us when we crossed the Gates of Eden... I now recognize my own blindness and... my own fault, for leaving you alone surrounded by those vipers and their venomous lies."

John tried to step forward, perhaps to refute Joseph's words, but Jacob stopped him, holding him back with a stern shake of his head. To allow Joseph this final moment with someone he put his faith in, even if they didn't necessarily understand it.

"But now, with the responsibility as your Father, I shall free you of their lies... of the burdening weight of your sin, my wayward child," Joseph heard how she sobbed, and had to breathe to not falter now, "The gates may be shut to you Vicar, but know, even now, that I pray God will have mercy upon your soul."

Joseph removed the revolver from his holster, clenching it as he left it to his side for just a moment.

His hand caressed her small, frail head, fingers pinching close the tube connected into her nose.

He cocked the hammer back with his thumb, and with an exhale, aimed it to her head.

He remembered how her small legs kicked as the monitor increased in its beeping, his resolve weakening, for only a second, before gripped tighter. God's repeating words ringing in his head.

"Shall you find peace amongst the angels, Vicar," he whispered softly, that he was unsure if she even heard him.

"Join the angels, my sweet Faith," he had murmured into what little hair she had, lips grazing softly as his tears slipped onto his little girl.

His finger curled around the trigger, coiling it back as he once more took responsibility-

Di-di-ding ding!

Joseph found himself thrown back by a harsh force that knocked the air out of him, grip on the revolver lost as it was flung elsewhere.

He felt hands on him, one tattooed and the other scarred. He recognized he was in his brothers' arms, lungs forcing him to heave for air from floor he laid back on.

But... hadn't I been standing before?

He leaned up, and saw he was a few feet away from the Vicar, who now had her head up, confused green eyes glancing around the Convent's room.

Joseph's eyes caught a glimpse of something on one of the upper balconies on the right side of the room, and saw a slim figure, cloaked from head to toe in dark shawls. She wore a mask, a pale one that's appearance was ghastly, jagged tear lines going down past the mask's edges, with a small mouth shaped in a "O".

He saw they held a silver hand bell in one hand, some sort of symbol carved in its waist. They shook it once more, the ringing echoing in the small chamber. The symbol glowed a bluish hue, and he felt his hairs prick up.

"Foul brethren," the smooth, matured voice of a woman reverberated through the Convent, the person unseen.

Another cloaked figure stood upon the left balcony, their mask depicting a false eye of a cyclops, with two slits for them to see through, the mouth carved with gnashing sharp teeth. They, too, held a hand bell, with a different symbol carved into the silver.

Their bell shook, the clapper tinging against the rim of the waist.

The Hunters with them placed their hands on the handles of their weapons, alert and cautious at these newest intruders.

Joseph was lifted to his feet, Jacob pushing him into John's embrace as he took to protecting their front.

"Fickle in your promises. Deceptive in your loyalties," the unknown woman's voice returned, a scathing tone behind it all, "Are you always shirking responsibility over your sisters?"

Through the middle balcony came the owner of the voice; another cloaked woman, but her embroidery seemed more intricate, the jewelry she adorned was more in quantity than her companions, like the Vicar who looked above at them.

The woman was taller too, her mask similar to that of a demon, an angry one at that, hairless brows furrowed, the mask's mouth full of sharp teeth, but two prominent tusks projecting from the lower jaw. It also had two horns protruding from the head, and through the eyes Joseph could see burning orange eyes glaring down at them.

"Why are the lives of your sistren worth less than that of your brothers?" she asked from atop the balcony, her eyes boring down at Joseph, "You are the one to bring them in. You are the one to feed them, to guide them. Ultimately, you are the only one to claim care over them, in spite of your brothers' vile envy and appalling apathy."

She gave scathing glances to both John and Jacob respectively, before her full focus stayed on Joseph, "And yet, when your charges' displease you... their lives are forfeit by your own hands. A more permanent punishment than what your brothers earn. I wonder..."

Her head tilts, the jewelry shifting as she ponders, "Is it because they are not of your blood that makes it so easy, even when it is your hands that molded their clay bodies?"

Joseph watched with an uneasiness when the nose of her mask held up while looking down at him, "Or do the opposite sex simply hold no value in your eyes, and the eye of your Lord, unless their role is nothing but flawless?"

Her words earned Joseph and his brothers some raised brows from some of the Hunters, though it did not last long as they focused on the unaligned women.

Joseph was shocked by the accusatory words, and he went to speak up, to defend him and his brothers, and the word of his Lord.

However, he was stopped by the lead women's scoff, "Regardless the reason, your hypocrisy is clear. But your familial responsibilities are not the only oaths you have attempted to break."

She brought out one of her hands, the gauntlets fingertips sharpened not unlike claws, holding a hand bell of her own.

However, it was not like that of her accomplices; it was bigger, and rusted in an ugly maroon, matted with the dripping red of the flesh stuck to the metal, with the bloodied fur of beasts clinging to the small clumps of flesh.

There was a sinister aura emanating from the ugly carving of the symbol etched into the rusted metal.

She rung the bell, and the atmosphere of the room shifted. A darkness flowed down from the bell, like a small waterfall plummeting out a mountain's mouth.

Down the balcony, the darkness encompassed the corpse of a Church Hunter, just as it consumed the surroundings.

The women were also covered by the dark mist, gone from Joseph's eyes.

Alarmed, Jacob aimed his rifle in search of their new enemies, while the Hunters twisted their weapons to enter the second forms. The darkness spread across the room, including blocking the only in and out of the Convent.

The Vicar remained where she was, staring at the silhouette of the corpse from behind the dark mist.

The lead woman's voice stated unperturbed, "I enforce upon my coven my unspoken vow. The protection for that which is precious to one of our own, against the iniquitous efforts of these men's greed. I call upon your essence from the past to the present, my kin. Stir from your desolate slumber, from your sleepless dream."

The bells rung once more, and the silhouette of the Church Hunter's corpse soon arose from within the mist, not unlike their smaller more angelic counterparts, the shape shifting and smoothing into something leaner, smaller than the alterations made by Saint Matilda. It soon began to walk through the darkness towards them.

"Through this corporeal form shall you defend your heart."

Emerging from the mist was a familiar face. The tawny brown complexion, small healed cuts littered across her face from fights long ago, though fewer in quantity unlike from last he saw her. The dark blue of her formal leather-layered coat covered the dark vest and white frilled blouse, adorned with a cravat.

Joseph noticed how young she looked, the expression on her face without the calm neutrality he had been accustomed to before she fell into a dreadful coma, instead replaced with an emotion he recognized within John.

Wrath. Directed at us.

He realized that her irises held no shine of silver, the indication of someone who had become enlightened, who become an other to everyone... no, they were a dull grey. She looked human.

The brothers soon realized they were not the only ones who recognized who this was, as the Hunter's froze; in fear? Shock? He couldn't tell.

He did see how his former sister stared at the woman. There was a longing there, a pang in her heart as the other approached past the Vicar.

She expertly spun her twin blade around, dragging one blade across the ground between herself and the Vicar, the same darkness she emerged from summoned once more to cover a veil of it on to Faith.

No one could see the Vicar anymore, but the more pressing matter was the scowling and sneering ghost enraged by their very presence.

"Through this corporeal form, shall you vanquish these fiendish intruders."

She pointed her the end of her blade at Joseph himself, glare calling for his blood.

"Welcome back from beyond the great consciousness, Elite Hunter."

She split her twin blade in two, twirled her weapons in both hands, and in a few blinks, Joseph saw her in the air, blades crossing as they cut down on their target.

"Silva Omar."

Joseph could only recall a great pain across his chest and the shouts of his brothers before he fell unconscious.

[they-are-not-just-stories]

The part with the mother hen and John's rejected IKEA crib!! Ajksnshejd!! 😂😂😂😂

I loved this! Thank you!! ❤❤❤

Jacob headcanons for when the dep is having pregnancy symptoms? Love your writing bb!!! 😍😘💕

ahhh thank you so much

Warnings: Pregnancy

- Jacob will have noticed that something is off, even if he hasn’t quite connected the dots by the time Dep tells him. 

- Protective to a point. Of course he is naturally feeling protective and worried about the Deputy and all the things that could happen, but he’s well aware that they can take of themselves. Still, he is still classed as the protector of the Project, and will likely extend that to the Deputy; insisting that they stay with him at the Vet’s Centre, at least when they sleep. 

-The closer it gets to the Collapse, the more antsy he’s going to get. Every time there’s a storm or it’s cold night and the Deputy’s not with him, then he’s going to be pacing all around his office until it’s over; wondering whether they found shelter, wondering if they’re safe. 

- Is basically a mother hen when they leave him. Gives them a bag with supplies (oh, Dep already has supplies? No no, these are better supplies asdfghjkl), and gives them a carefully organised packed lunch, because he worries about them getting enough to eat. 

- Will insist that the Deputy should consider staying in his bunker, especially as the Collapse gets closer. He’s worried about them, and he knows he can offer the protection they’ll need during their pregnancy. When they finally agree, he’ll breathe a sigh of relief and sleep a little easier, knowing that it’s going to be okay. 

- Visits the Deputy during the day and tries to take them for a small walk - nothing too strenuous, but just enough to keep them getting some sunlight and away from the busy crowds in the Project. 

- If the Deputy tells him to back off - to stop being a mother hen - he will, even if it doesn’t stop his worrying. Again, he knows Dep is strong and capable of knowing themselves and their limits. 

- Will have a proper nursery being set up in his bunker, so his kids will have enough to help them learn and grow during the seven years following the Collapse. 

-Discusses baby names with the Deputy one evening when they’re curled up together in his bed. He’s not too keen on anything biblical - too many of those in the Project already - but he wouldn’t have any strong ‘no-go’ names aside from his parents’. 

- Probably builds the crib himself - despite John pouting in the corner with his rejected IKEA crib - and Jacob even lets Joseph come by and paint some flowers on the sides. John - despite still being a bit miffed over HIS crib being unneeded - begrudgingly joins in and helps paint some stars and clouds. 

- Jacob might be a bit worried, but he knows his baby is going to have a whole family to help look after them. Plus, it’s the kid of Jacob Seed and the Deputy. Jacob knows they’re going to be just fine.  

[chyrstis]

Fanfic Author’s Appreciation Day

If there’s one thing I’ll never be able to stop indulging in and enjoying, it’s fic. It’s a love letter to a series/game/show, and in other cases a much needed giant middle finger, and over the years I’ve been fortunate enough to read work by an almost staggering number of brilliant people.

Last year I was new to this little corner, and lucky enough to catch this day in time to send some love out. This year, I’d like to do the same, because there’s so many of you that I admire. So many that write, and write, and write about a variety of subjects, and in a variety of fandoms, and I hope you never stop creating, no matter what.

@writerofblocks​ @autumnyte​ @guileandgall @twistedsinews @siribear @kakumei​ @ofmanynames​ @thedivinemissema @joasakura @sharky-broshaw @amistrio​ @tommymillers @softmillers @foofygoldfish @redroci @shallow-gravy​ @ma-sulevin​ @narcis-the-monk @seedsplease @sneaky-apostate​ @finefeatheredgamer @outranks​ @painterofhorizons @geronimo-11​ @jackalopestride​ @solesurvivorkat @teamhawkeye @shellibisshe @somehow-saving-you​ @naromoreau @risenlucifer @tomexraider @raisinghellinotherworlds @ofravensandgenesis @starsandskies @marymay-fairgrave @faithchel @unclefungusthegoat @smithandrogers @chazz-anova @ja-crispea @gracethornwood @hawkfurze @words-and-seeds​ @weekend-writer​ @englass @shelliechen @strafethesesinners @mackie-hattwie @pd3​ @nightwingshero @spicevalleys @celesteennui @scarlettkat86​ @zacklover24​ @fuckin-nancy @fluttyseed @theoriginalladya @thessalian @pagerunner-j and a ton of other authors that I know don’t frequent here as much as they used to, but your work’ll always have a special place in my heart. I mean that 100%.

You all are the reason why I’ll burn through an entire fic at 1-2 AM with no regrets. Seriously, so many of you churn out fic after fic of incredible quality, whether it’s a drabble, a one-shot, or a long-fic (along with extensive headcanons that would be beautiful fics in their own right), and I can’t thank you enough for putting yourselves out there and sharing each and every one with us. <3,

[minilev]

Tagged by @vvitchofhemwick and @denerims (thank you bbs! 💜💜💜)

To do Fan Fiction Tropes Tier List Maker

Tagging @teamhawkeye @starsandskies @seedlingsinner @spicevalleys @theknifegame @curodole @xbaebsae @cryptcombat @refinedstorage @oktraoktra @fadedjacket @trustymikh @sagarvo @softpedropascal @rush-me-thomas @bintangy @outranks @naromoreau @roboscorpions @oliviawildesjawline @seedsplease @words-and-seeds @josephseeds-rosary @another-bryk-in-the-wall and you ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

[fc5holidayexchange]

Hey everyone! We’ve reached the end of the exchange! We had a total of 88 gifts published! They’ve all been wonderful gifts, and the sheer amount of work that everyone has put into this exchange has brought so much joy and holiday fun to the fandom!

We just want to give a big thank you to @bintangy​, who has drawn all of the art used in the blog theme and also provided more art for the opening and closing posts! 

And a special thank you to the wonderful pinch hitters who were able to create amazing gifts on short notice and during the holidays. @spicyinsanity​ @ma-sulevin​ @sleepydaydreamz​ @stormklinge​ @red-nightskies​ @teamhawkeye​ @decertatio thank you so much!

Thank you so much to everyone for participating! 

A full list of the reveals:

Day One

“Blood Moon” created by @starsandskies​ for @stormklinge​ 

“Gävlebocken” created by @unclefungusthegoat​ for @ma-sulevin​ 

“How the Tea Saved Christmas” created by @weekend-writer for  @bintangy​  

“Hers to Keep” created by @sleepydaydreamz​ for @spicyinsanity​ 

“Deputy Cabe C'Lobo” created by @lastlamb​ for @yokobai​ 

“Four Presents of the Apocalypse” created by @enatsu-masaru​ for @bitchmysaladispeople​ 

“Peaceful Embrace” created by @jackythemoo​ for @chuckhansen​ 

“Into The Bliss” created by @nicktremblaywayfu​  for @caugustmcmullen

“Jacob Seed/Deputy Anna Reid” created by @cowboybound​ for @red-nightskies​ 

“The Seed Family” created by @ask-chibi-rook​ for @tlhoh​ 

“Camp-Out” created by @seedsplease​ for @smithandrogers​

“Jacob Seed/Male Deputy” created by @spicyinsanity​ for @silvercloud234 (+bonus “Staci Pratt”) 

“Deputy Andreia Cordeiro/Faith Seed” created by @ohdaenerys​ for @celiansartblog​ 

“Happy Holidays” created by @jacobsknifeplay​ for @farcryfuckmeup​ 

“Surrender” created by @demiromance​ for @fluttyseed​

“Jacob Seed/Deputy Anya” created by @dolphinitley​ for @padme4000

Day Two

"Christmas morning camping trip" created by @nihildep​ for @chyrstis​

“Dahlia Seed” created by @johnsrevelation​  for @fkingpeggies​

“John Seed / Deputy Elenore Parker” created by @spicyinsanity​  for @shellibisshe​

"Christmas Lights” created by @mrs-sakurai​  for @johnathot-seed​

“Office Liaison" created by @stormklinge​  for @tentaclevamp​

“A Loving Embrace” created by @rifle-by-your-side for @nicktremblaywayfu​

"Aim for the Heart" created by @sleepydaydreamz​ for @oh-the-bliss

“Some Downtime” created by @theblissburns​ for @decertatio

“Love Is In The Bunker" created by @another-bryk-in-the-wall​ for @bunnymoss​

“Morning Bliss“ created by @jacob-seed​ for @mr-arainai​

”Break time” created by @yokobai​ for @rifle-by-your-side

“A rare flower” created by @lexieheron​ for @ohdaenerys​

“Mags O'Connell/John Seed/Sharky Boshaw” created by @minilev​ for @polarbaroness​

“Come things only happy and whole” created by @sparrowsandswallows​ for  @ask-chibi-rook​

“The Eli Palmer Files” created by @closecry​ for @noxgold​

“A Quiet Night” created by @smithandrogers​ for @deputy-rice-pudding

“Be Still” created by @farcryfuckmeup​ for @another-bryk-in-the-wall​​

Day Three

“Faith Seed & Priestess Iris” created by @decertatio​ for @glowwormsmith​

“Staci Pratt/Jacob Seed” created by @tlhoh​​ for @twinkcounty​

“Jacob Seed/Natalie Charlyle” created by @fadedjacket​​ for @eternalnope​

“Solstice” created by @stormklinge​​ for @ja-crispea​

“Made For Me” created by @deputy-sarah-sux​​ for @farcry5-obsessions

“Tonight” created by @seedlingsinner​​ for @teamhawkeye​

“Holiday Blues” created by @ja-crispea​​ for @hazy-pumpkin-moon

“Redemption” created by @softseeds​​ for @seedsplease​

“The Family That Cooks Together”  created by @glowwormsmith​​ for @fadedjacket​

“Joseph Seed and Elise Matthews Holiday Embrace”  created by @deputylacy​​ for @lastlamb​

“Jacob Seed/Harlan Murphy” created by @bintangy​​ for @iwalkupanddownstairs​

“Blissful Dreams and Other Things” created by @noonvraith​​ for @theblissburns​

“Deborah Fawkes/John Seed” created by @celiansartblog​​ for @noonvraith​

“Hope County Sunday Walk” created by @mr-arainai​​ for @wewillryesagain​

“Jacob x Em” created by @eternalnope​​ for @dolphinitley​

“Deputy Violet Ashe and Joseph Seed” created by @deputy-rice-pudding​ for @malefiquinn​

“Deputy Lucy Evans/Jacob Seed” created by @fantasmagoriam​​ for @softseeds​

“John seed/Vivian Harris” created by @silvercloud234​ for @lexieheron​​

Day Four

“Deputy Liona and Jacob Seed Edit” created by @fkingpeggies​​ for  @jacob-seed​​

“What a Nice Dream” created by @tentaclevamp​​ for @chazz-anova​

“we have always played for keeps” created by @hopecountylovin​​ for @nihildep​

“Your Special Night” created by @nightwingshero​​ for @sleepydaydreamz​

“Far Cry 5 Holiday Exchange 2019 Edits” created by @ma-sulevin​​ for @sparrowsandswallows​

“ Deputy Vasilisa Tereshkova/Mary May Fairgrave” created by @padme4000​ for @oliviawildesjawline​

“Denial” created by @fluttyseed​​ for @fantasmagoriam​

“far cry gift exchange | part 1″ created by @pabstbeerpussy​​ for @minilev​ (+2)

“John Seed/Deputy Elli Rose” created by @johnathot-seed​​ for @jackythemoo​

“Deputy Dylan Foster and Mary May Fairgrave” created by @theknifegame​​ for @weekend-writer

“Jealousy Looks Good on You” created by @ma-sulevin​​ for @pabstbeerpussy​

“Chocolate Cravings” created by @polarbaroness​​ for @seedlingsinner​

“Nicole Gerber and John Seed” created by @teamhawkeye​​ for @theknifegame​

“Where the lines overlap” created by @malefiquinn​​ for @fsocietydotdat​

“Dawn Wilson” created by @chuckhansen​​ for @starsandskies​

“I won’t ask for much (but just this once, I��d like you)” created by @chyrstis​​ for @finefeatheredfarcryplayer​

“Holiday fun at the Spread Eagle” created by @shellibisshe​​ for @refinedstorage​

“Christmas at the Seeds” created by @decertatio​ for @refinedstorage​

“Quiet Night” created by @fsocietydotdat​​ for @jacobsknifeplay​​

Day Five

“Jacob x Harper” created by @red-nightskies​​ for @demiromance​

“Chanel Payne/ Staci Pratt” created by @iwalkupanddownstairs​​ for @deputylacy​

“Woodland Wolves“  created by @wewillryesagain​​ for @enatsu-masaru​

“Deputy Bonnie Parrish/John Seed”  created by @red-nightskies​​ for @cowboybound​

“Deputy Sarah Lamb/Jacob Seed” created by @teamhawkeye​​ for @deputy-sarah-sux​

“Deputy x Jacob Seed” created by @jacob-seed​​ for @mrs-sakurai​

“John/Wren” created by @finefeatheredfarcryplayer​​ for @nightwingshero​

“A Kiss Your Captor Christmas“ created by @twinkcounty for @closecry

“One Dinner” created by @casino-lights​ for @kadaransmuggler​

“Fool Me Thrice” created by @bunnymoss​​ for @johnsrevelation​

“Merry Christmas, Baby” created by @oh-the-bliss​ for @hopecountylovin​​

“Sasha and Staci” created by @farcry5-obsessions​ for @casino-lights

“Its just a matter of time until we’re all found out” created by @kadaransmuggler​​ for @unclefungusthegoat​​

We also had five extra fandom gifts:

“Deputy and Sharky” by @oliviawildesjawline​

“Sometimes Love is Not the Best Thing for You” by @bitchmysaladispeople​

“Atonement” by @chazz-anova​

“An Inconvenient Longing” by @caugustmcmullen

“First Yule” by @refinedstorage​