apostolate-blog

[apostolate-blog]

—why are you so nice to me? —it’s because you are the weirdest, most beautiful person i’ve ever met in my whole entire life

( @reliqucry )

[apostolate-blog]

gabrielle jackson,

various starters prompt || ❛ it’s okay to be scared. it means you’re about to do something brave. ❜ for @apostolate 

hands clutched so tightly in fists, knuckles had gone white due the stress of being outside his church again. it was once a safe haven for the young woman now it made her want to bolt back to life she had just left behind. gabrielle viewed father finn as a parent figure, he took her in when she needed help; gave her a home in this hellscape. now looking up at the chapel all she could feel was burning coming from somewhere deep in her chest, a firey hot burn that SCREAMED ❛ you don’t belong anymore ❜ but she knows better than that. breathing deep and knocking the large doors she calls. ❝ father finn…it’s me gabrielle. ❞ 

     It seems bad things come to Finn’s life in WAVES, or rather the good and the bad seem to be in an endless cycle, an endless WAR that only gives pause for relief just to snatch the happiness away again. MASON, CAMERON, GABRIELLE—2017 was shaping up to be the worst year in this afterlife of the apocalypse ( so far ). Cameron was mad at him, he was mad at Mason, but the worst was not knowing what happened to Gabby. One day, just GONE, and Finnegan didn’t want to believe she had died, even though he knew she probably was–that’s what happened to good girls in Hell. He has almost resigned himself to believing she was really gone ( TO HEAVEN ) when her voice calls down the hall, ghostly and far away. Haunting, really, but it makes him leap up from his desk in his office and hope to God it wasn’t just a trick of the mind.  ❝  Gabby?  ❞

[apostolate-blog]

                                                  (  FINNEGAN STOKELY : case file  )

full name: FINNEGAN DONALD STOKELY preferred name: FINN, FINNY known aliases titles: FATHER STOKELY date of birth: OCTOBER 11TH, 1987 place of birth: CHEYENNE, WYOMING current location: CHEYENNE, WYOMING previous locations: DENVER, COLORADO ( seminary school ) arrival date to cheyenne: OCTOBER 11TH, 1987 duration of stay in cheyenne: TWENTY NINE YEARS human kill count: 0 ( may have indirectly caused a human death or deaths, though remains unaware ) infected kill count: 12 current inventory: BIBLE, PERSONAL WALLET CONTAINING DRIVER’S LICENSE, TWO ORANGES open to trading: YES

[apostolate-blog]

ckd.

Talking out problems had died many years before the majority of the North American population. It had died with stolen glances, whispering voices, and Dateline specials. Cameron had survived a national tragedy that had taken her boyfriend and best friends from her and taken out the perpetrator of such offense. But Nathaniel had not gone down without a fight. He had taken her ability to connect with others, deal with her feelings and conflict, and ___ in his clutches as he clawed at her for his terrible life. It had taken almost a decade of work for her to reclaim it and still, when left to her own devices, she floundered. The cheerleader, the psych major, the spring queen–those versions of herself with few and far between, shared like trists behind closed doors with select few people. Since her family’s deaths, only one person had been given the privilege of seeing the deeper, kinder parts of her ( hidden away in nooks and crannies, spread thinly into little boxes like holiday decorations in the church attic ). OUT OF SIGHT; OUT OF MIND. Finn Stokely had dusted off cobwebs and dust, lantern in hand and found the brightest parts of her lurking beneath old communion chalice–tarnished from years of disuse. And then, to find that while she had felt like she had found someone to slowly warm to–the temperature of that cold glass adjusting to the warmth of sure hands–and learn that he hadn’t even trusted her to tell her about a sister. It was beyond devastating.

Cameron didn’t mean to be cold; she never did. She merely matched the temperature of the environment she was in; no light meant NO WARMTH. His choice to leave her in the dark about the very real, living connections he still had with the world left her feeling bitter, but it wasn’t out of punishment or spite. Bitterness had become a flavor in her mouth for so long that to taste anything as sweet as what they’d had going on for months was nothing short of foreign. “Mmhmm,” Cameron acknowledged him absently, hands setting to the work of finding things of use. Remembering that it wasn’t her DESIRE to be cruel, she exhaled slowly and looked up at the family portrait that hung above the short buffet she was searching through. “Were you close?” The idea of the house they stood in being a crypt for his old memories only salted the wound she’d momentarily forgot was the cause of her ire and she shut the drawer roughly. “You have a lot of people you know in town.” The inflection made the statement a hard question.

     Hmm, not exactly the reaction he wanted, though had somewhat EXPECTED. They weren’t soft people, or rather there were hard shells around their softness, but Finnegan had foolishly believed maybe she was starting to let him in. Maybe HE was the only one letting someone in, maybe he had just wished that she was and interpreted it wrong, thinking glances meant something other than just looking at him when he spoke. There was hesitation in everything he was doing, from the repeated flexing of his fingers to the twitching smile of a jaw clenching to the way his eyes were darting around in an effort to look at anything that wasn’t HER ; he was nervous and he didn’t understand WHY. Finnegan had prided himself on being grounded, in CONTROL of himself and confident in every action. Ever since the LIGHT dimmed, he found himself insecure around her, afraid to make the wrong move and scare the light even farther away. A soft cough crawled up his throat, making him crave for a drink–a drink of WATER, just water, please just let it be water. It was quite stuffy in this house as well, fingers working to open up the bottle he brought along and take a large swig, in part of relieve in the dry itching and to give him something else to focus on.

     DEBORAH SLOANE, his mind recalled from the depths as his eyes caught sight of the family portrait.  ❝  No, not really.  ❞  Truthfully, he had hated Deborah, she was every stereotype of Catholics that he had set out to destroy in his church—LOVE, NOT HATE. Still, even if he hadn’t liked her in life, Finnegan didn’t believe in speaking ILL of the DEAD—or the assumed dead, at least, judging from the dusty lifelessness of the home before they had stepped into it. It was almost eerie, the way the house had been left almost untouched in the past three years, as if it was FROZEN in time after that fateful night in September. He had been in the process of taking another drink when her question, which really seemed like more of a statement, caused the water to spit back into the bottle. Fair brows creased together, turning to her with a curious tilt of his head.  ❝  I suppose so.  ❞  He grew up here, he worked here, he LIVED here, after all, it would only make sense.  ❝  Though I would suspect most have... passed on now.  ❞  Even before the outbreak, Finnegan had mostly kept to himself, and the majority of his parishioners were upwards of sixty years old, not that he didn’t get on swell with old people, of course.  ❝  Why do you ask?  ❞  The idea of someone from his high school meeting Cammy and telling her old stories of his dreadful teenage years was enough to make him shudder.

[apostolate-blog]

It’s silly not to hope. It’s a sin he thought.

Ernest Hemingway, The Old Man and the Sea (via wordsnquotes)

[apostolate-blog]

( @reliqucry )

     There had been a certain COLDNESS to the church lately, one that had nothing to do with ( rising ) temperature outside its walls. The glowing light that was Cameron started to DIM nearly two months ago and Finnegan was left wondering what it was that HE had done to offend her. He had settled into a routine, grown used to her presence and even started to look forward to running into her in the halls — then suddenly a switch had flipped and he was in the dark as to what had flipped it. Maybe it was selfish to believe it was his doing, he could admit that, but so often he was the one ruining the relationships in his life. MASON, INDIANA, ACACIA: it was all HIS fault–well, he had blamed himself for the disastrous relationship with his brother before he learned the TRUTH. Would it really be such a surprise if it was him who had caused the tension rolling off Cameron in waves?

     Even if the church wasn’t filled with uncertainty, Finnegan had figured it was time he get out of the house, the rising heat of the fast approaching summer sun had always made the church feel quite stuffy. He had invited Cameron to come with him as he searched for supplies ( or rather satisfied a certain nosy part of him the nuns couldn’t beat out of him ) in hopes of maybe finding the root of the coldness.  ❝  I think this may have been the house of one of my parishioners.  ❞

[apostolate-blog]

to me, you were the brightest star, but all you saw yourself as was the blackest of holes.

i just wish you’d see yourself the same way i do 

(via terrasenscourt)

[apostolate-blog]

[apostolate-blog]

[apostolate-blog]

━ { @apostolate }

     ❝ you don’t get to QUIT. we don’t get to quit in this FAMILY;                                                                                                    this family’s all we’ve ever had. ❞             

Keep reading

[apostolate-blog]

[apostolate-blog]

[apostolate-blog]

[apostolate-blog]

[apostolate-blog]

[apostolate-blog]

5. indiana mason cameron

send me three names and a number meme ! — kill, betray, have on your zombie apocalypse team

   ❝  I would never kill either of my siblings so get that idea out of your head right now. I’ve already betrayed all my siblings many times before, actually, so I’m not going to answer that either. And Cameron is more than capable of being on anyone’s team, so I choose her.  ❞

( @inblcssm & @pcramedics & @reliqucry )

[apostolate-blog]