#//Fairgrave go home.

[therelignedstars]

"Yeah, I'm staying away from that. It's more fun being around Joseph’s compound."

[lulu2992]

Exploration of the now-offline Far Cry 5 official websites

Part 15: Mary May Fairgrave

Recovered content

Mary May was one of the first Far Cry 5 characters to be revealed, along with Jerome and Nick. Here is what the American website said about her on July 13th, 2017:

THE BARKEEP MARY MAY FAIRGRAVE Born and raised in the Holland Valley, Mary May, along with her family, owned and operated the Spread Eagle, Hope County’s local watering hole. But after her parents died, it became tough to make ends meet – the bank foreclosed on the bar and sold it to Eden’s Gate for pennies. Her family’s legacy is now in the unfit hands of the cult. But she’ll no longer sit back and watch them drive it into the ground – it’s time to get the Eagle back and revive everything her parents spent their lives building.

The linked video was this one:

In the “Meet Far Cry 5's Characters” article from May 26th, 2017, this is what we could read:

MARY MAY FAIRGRAVE A lifelong resident of Hope County, Mary May used to own and operate her family's saloon, The Spread Eagle. The bank foreclosed on the place after her parents died and money ran short, however, and Eden's Gate took it over for pennies on the dollar. Watching the cult swallow up her birthright is a bridge too far, and she's ready to take back the Eagle – and Hope County – by any means necessary.

On or before February 9th, 2018, the text in her information box was modified:

THE BARKEEP MARY MAY FAIRGRAVE Mary May recently lost the only people she ever really loved: her parents. Born and raised in the Holland Valley, her father drove a truck and her mother ran the family watering hole, The Spread Eagle. Life wasn’t always easy, but it was good. And no matter what, they had each other. When Mary’s parents died, the bank seized the property and Eden’s Gate bought it for pennies. Mary blames Eden’s Gate, and she’s not going to let it stand. The Spread Eagle is her HOME—her parents’ legacy. Not only is she going to get it back, she’s going to get revenge.

Then, the video was under the text instead of in the picture, and the page existed at least until February 7th, 2020:

And this is what the European website used to say about her:

MARY MAY FAIRGRAVE THE BARKEEP Born and raised in the Holland Valley, Mary May, along with her family, owned and operated the Spread Eagle, Hope County’s local watering hole. But after her parents died, it became tough to make ends meet – the bank foreclosed on the bar and sold it to Eden’s Gate for pennies. Her family’s legacy is now in the unfit hands of the cult. But she’ll no longer sit back and watch them drive it into the ground – it’s time to get the Eagle back and revive everything her parents spent their lives building.

The video was the same (but posted by Ubisoft UK):

Commentary

All descriptions say Eden’s Gate bought the Spread Eagle and legally owned it, but my understanding of the in-game situation was that Mary May still had the bar. While the cult reportedly bribed the county to make it “illegal to transport alcohol”, as she explains in Far Cry 5, I don’t think they managed to push her out of business or that the Spread Eagle was closed. At least, not before the Reaping.

The 2017 version of the description didn’t mention her father’s truck, the Widowmaker, even though it was already visible in the Announcement Trailer.

The brother she talks about in the very first trailer dedicated to her and who is an important character in the novel Far Cry: Absolution is never mentioned in the descriptions. That said, in Far Cry 5, she never says she had any siblings either, but she confirms her parents are dead. In the trailer, she explains she lost her mother first; in the game, her father was the first one to die.

Under the cut are all the available source files, saved directly from the website, of the images you see in the screenshots:

[englass]

Plains and Valleys

Pairing(s): John Seed x Deputy/Reader

Warning(s): John is his own warning; Possessive/Obsessive Behaviour; John being creepy; Stalking; kind-of Crack, this isn’t taken all that seriously; Not Beta’d; Experimental Piece; NSFW/Explicit, my first (and likely only) attempt at smut -- please kindly let me know if there’s anything else I should warn of here, I don’t know what I’m doing.

Word Count: 4,020

A/N(s): The title is basically a placeholder for while I was writing this because I had no idea what to name it... and truly, I can’t be asked to think of something better for a piece that only exists to see if I can write smut (spoilers: I can’t, but I’m not letting a completed piece rot away in my docs just because I’m embarrassed; I worked and spent time on this damnit!).

On another note, I was gonna just give this piece over as my contribution to WIP day that @derelictheretic was kind enough to tag me in, but decided against it. I’ll post a proper response and WIP later this week or next, so bear with me please hun! Just wanted to get this out there first.

- - -

John had a problem.

Well, he had many problems. Not least of all his growing frustration at the continued resistance from the Fairgraves' in his pursuit for the deed to their ‘establishment’. He also had been unable to play with Affirmation as regularly as he would have liked, so that put him in an even fouler mood than usual. And he wasn't going to even think about the stress he was starting to feel with his brother constantly breathing down his neck; always questioning his actions as though he were a child constantly getting into trouble and needing twenty-four hour monitoring, always asking after the progress of things that take time. A lot of time.

John may have a substantial amount of money at his disposal, but that does not mean he can work miracles.

Not all of the time, at least.

And his problems don’t stop there, oh no. Despite what many likely thought of him (and what a stroke to his ego that is, knowing that people think of him) John was well aware of his problems, his faults. He’d spent a lot of time getting intimate with them, after all; and every now and again they'd crop up like daisies, weeding their way to the surface yet again. He’d become rather good at managing them, if he said so himself, but even John wasn’t perfect (he was damn close to it though, as many would agree). And one fault he hadn’t quite been able to trim back was his tendency to fixate on things; obsess. 

He obsesses over his plane, over its upkeep and maintenance, its flight records, the slightest scratch that wasn't there the day before-- how the fuck did that get there!?

He obsesses over the details on the manifestos he’s given, the contracts he’s made, dates and times for resource collection, rotations, their members' personal records (he denies having those), PR management, expenditures and everything in between. 

He obsesses over his home, the décor, the colours and lighting, materials used, the whole aesthetic. How he presents himself, the clothes and brands he wears (it’s vain but he needs those creature comforts), his posture, his presence, his overall look that creates an identity that just screams nothing but John.

He obsesses over things.

He knows he does. It’s a faulty blessing.

And he has found something new to obsess over.

John has had a few run-ins with the local Deputies of Hope County in the past. Mostly Joey Hudson, delightful as she is, but ordinarily he doesn’t think too much of them. After all, he’s untouchable and they all know it. There’s no reason to worry about them, let alone waste his precious free time (what little he gets of it) thinking about them. They’re insignificant in the grand scheme of things. Nothing but an inconvenience, an annoyance at most. Completely irrelevant.

But then he saw her.

Standing there, innocuous, looking out at something (for something? Nothing?) in the distance. 

There’s a hitch, the catch of a stilted breath.

Where they were keeping her hidden he has no idea, but he is taken the moment he catches that rogue glance of her.

And, strangely, he doesn't know why.

Sure, John and his brothers have been in this County for a good while now and he has never seen her before, so it’s perfectly normal for him to be curious about the unfamiliar face in town. Nothing wrong with that, it’s innocent enough.

Except there’s everything wrong with that.

Because that’s not it.

He can’t even blame his wandering eyes on her appearance; she’s wearing that drab uniform that even a charity shop wouldn’t take, and it does nothing to enhance whatever natural beauty she may have hidden underneath it. Although, the girl-next-door look she gives off is begrudgingly cute (if he dared to utter the word unironically).

Honestly, she’s not the type of woman that he typically would have paid any special attention to back in his lawyer days. Fucked her stupid maybe, for the extra notch in his bedpost, but he likely wouldn’t have taken her number or thought too much about her afterwards. Relegated to just another lay in a long line of bed partners that he doesn’t remember all the names of.

To be blunt, she isn’t anything special.

And maybe that’s part of the appeal, what hooks him in. Because she is different; unassuming and uncomplicated, modest to a point of simplicity. And yet there is something about her that he can’t actively see or name from his spot across the street that has drawn him in without even trying. And he doesn’t know what or why.

It’s as infuriating as it is intriguing.

Perhaps there is some iota of truth in what Joseph had said to him a while ago, John supposed silently to himself at the time: the simplest of things can be beautiful, in their own unconventional ways.

Although his brother could have said as much with far less words, verses, and vague allusions to a potential future that might never be-- a spark of sudden change that sets a new course in motion; scales tipped by the most consuming of emotions; scorched by a soul so deceptively unremarkable that no one would have thought to believe just how uniquely special they would become--

…

…… 

… Huh… 

John creates a special slot in his increasingly hectic schedule just for her from then on out.

He goes out of his way to find more reasons to harass and bother the local population, all in a fruitless attempt to get lucky and have her answer their call for aid and come and tell him what a bad boy he’s being. (Annoyingly she never turns up, though.)

He makes calls and pulls some strings to the businesses he’s procured, makes inquiries to anyone that would listen to him, including those doing menial tasks or even going through their Atonement (they don’t understand the relevancy of his questioning and he may have been a little harsher with them than he should’ve been because of it), and all in the name of his personal investigation into her.

After all, he had argued to himself in front of a cork board covered with documents and pictures of her with a feverish flavour, what sort of Herald would he be if he didn't know everything about everyone living in his-- their, his and his brothers, soon-to-be County?

His invasive and not completely legal search into this new Deputy (and she is new it turns out, freshly transferred in fact) goes on for a full, nonstop month before -- during one of his totally-random-and-not-planned stops into town -- he discovers something else about her.

When he first saw his Deputy (and doesn’t that feel good to say) she was alone, leaning against the wooden beam of the Sheriff’s Department’s porch and staring out into the distant fields; the late afternoon sun haloing her figure in its golden warmth, its light making the colour of her eyes blaze bright and her hair shine silkily. The perfect picture of ease.

This time, when he finally manages to spy another in-person look at her, he finds that she has company. She’s standing next to the ever friendly Hudson, posture held strong by an understated confidence and arms casually crossed beneath her bust, an amused smile on her decidedly pretty face as Hudson talks animatedly about something that he can’t hear.

And she’s looking up at her.

John blinks, and blinks again.

He’s definitely seen her file, he even remembers glossing through her medical records (which he would most assuredly deny having if anyone asked), so he knows how tall she is. But for some reason it apparently hadn’t quite registered to him until now what that would look like in a physical comparison between the two of them.

He knows that the lovely Hudson is a couple of inches shorter than him, not too far off from meeting him eye-to-eye. His Deputy, from what he can see, is about a full head shorter than Hudson. Which would put her, what, roughly just about eye-to-chest with him...?

He thinks about it. Thinks about her next to him, imagines what that would look like. Thoughts surprisingly innocent as he wonders after clichés of reaching for something that she can’t reach, of cocooning her in his arms as he effortlessly wrangles her into his lap. Envisions the domesticity of easily resting his head on top of hers as he holds her from behind, slotting himself into the mould of her figure like matching puzzle pieces, perfectly meant to be and belong… 

A high pitched, shaky sound slips free at the mental reel.

It’s not a secret the type of life that John used to live. He has been with numerous types of women, something he used to take a great deal of pride in, and has indulged in and explored his fair share of kinks in the comfort of expensive silk sheets. But who would have guessed that the former playboy, John Duncan now John Seed, would have a thing for domestic bliss.

Or rather, domestic bliss with little. ol’. her.

John makes the executive decision then and there to talk to his Deputy as soon as possible. Preferably alone. Without interference.

It feels like forever before he gets the opportunity.

A week later, on a daily walk through Falls End that has only admittedly become a thing in order to check up on the lucky woman of his blazing affections (I am not stalking her, Jacob, he had grounded out menacingly to his accusing older brother over Sunday dinner; who proceeded to look on at John with a slow quirk of an eyebrow), he finds his ever elusive Deputy resting around the corner of the Sheriff’s Department’s building. Eyes closed, head down, arms crossed, and safely concealed in the shade; unsuspectingly calm in her desired time alone.

And John is quick to ruin it.

He can’t help himself, he really can’t. The opportunity is here and he would be remiss to let it pass him by.

Even if she does look rather serene.

He's seen a few photos of her, more than a few actually-- albums worth even, so he knows what she looks like up close. He even printed one out (it’s a favourite of his, a near perfect replica of the first time he saw her) and has it framed on his bedside table; but it turns out no amount of photos quite do the real her justice.

The closer he gets to her the more he notices how petite she is, how the loose yet deceptively form-fitting hug of her bland uniform subtly accentuates the curves and slopes of her modest figure; the daintiness of her fingers as they rest against the exposed, smooth skin of her arms; that familiar magnetic draw snapping to life in the colour of her eyes as they lazily open, sparkling as he gets closer and she looks up at him, wide and wondering.

Innocent.

Oh, he was so wrong about her, he realises wondrously. Did her such a disservice in his initial judgement of her all those weeks ago. She is far from average.

And being here in front of her, close enough to touch, to be able to easily reach out and trap her against the wall and between his arms if he so wanted to, safely protected under the cage of his form -- her neck craning back in order to comfortably gaze up at him, meeting his eyes as he stares down at her… 

It makes something inside him go wild.

John lays the charm on quick and swift, hand attractively running through his hair as a practised but handsome smile lights up his face, eyes twinkling through his lidded gaze with an aweing hunger he knows he is failing to keep hidden.

Getting the first word in, he leans close to the wall, not quite putting his full weight against it (his shirt was expensive) but close enough to allow him a moment of privacy with her by limiting her field of view to only him. Blocking out everyone-- everything else with his taller frame (and doesn’t that thought spark a sudden twitch of interest) as he eagerly monopolises her attention.

Daringly he edges further into her space while he talks ardently to her, truly basking in the unexpected pleasure he gets in watching her unintentionally baring her neck to him; being so beautifully submissive for him without consciously realising it. Amusement colouring his tone in pale notes as he watches the way her pretty eyes darken and narrow at his progressive disturbance and invasion of her time and space.

Fuck. He didn’t know it would be this intoxicating to be so close to her.

Even as he dances through conversation with playful words and hinting remarks, becomes enamoured by the soothing intonation of her voice as she is dragged along with guarded comments and wary retorts, he can’t stop the way his mind ever so sinfully wanders… 

It really would be so easy to have her up against this wall. To crowd her in with his frame on all sides and her vision filled with nothing but him. The centre of her universe and attention, him; and his hers. The concept of that sort of all-encompassing intimacy and devotion makes John shudder. Hungry all the more for it and the woman that has unknowingly given him a taste of what it could all be and become, of what that level of pure, unadulterated want is inspiring in him.

He could easily have her against this wall. Have her looking directly skyward up at him as if he were her moon and stars, as he looks directly down at her-- his entire world and more.

Snatch her thigh and hoist it up towards his waist. Have her balancing precariously on the tips of her toes and clutching desperately at him, trusting John to help hold and support her and keep her steady as he shields her from the world around them. Hides her away from the unworthy just as the unworthy have hidden her away from him. His lips sweetly latching onto hers, her taste finally on his tongue after all these weeks of wanting, involuntarily grounding his hips into hers as a desperate sound breaks within his throat.

Oh, John can visualise it now: the two of them breathing in each other's air, bodies flush as he tugs and pushes closer, her shirt riding up as it's snagged by the rough brickwork at her back, arching into him on an unsteady foot to escape its harsh bite. Teeth nipping teasingly at her lips and tongue licking moreishly into her mouth as his free hand roams down her stomach, pulls the rest of her shirt loose and fumbles in his eagerness with the buttons of her jeans, yanking the zipper down and shoving his hand below the waistband and into her underwear. Hearing her whine sweetly into his mouth as he feels just how wet she is for him, how much she wants him and how eagerly she welcomes him into her as he plunges his fingers into her slick cunt with a needy and quaking moan of his own. 

Would she want it quick and rough? His fingers thrusting knuckle deep as he presses tight circles to her throbbing clit, teeth at her throat as he claws into her thigh held tightly in the dip of his waist. Listening to how her moans get higher, her breathing gets quicker, turning into desperate little gasps before he tugs his fingers free of her; lips devouring hers in quick apology as he battles to pull his aching cock free, cursing lowly against her lips as his slick covered fingers slip on the metal of his belt. She’d help him, he knows she would -- such a good girl --, nipping and kissing him back with wanton sounds as she bats his hand away, revelling in the noises he makes for her -- only for her, only ever for her -- as she pulls him free; rolling her hips until his cock catches on her slit and he’s thrusting home into her.

Only then -- while feeling her walls flex around him, mouth hanging open as they both bask in finally, finally being so intimately connected to one another -- would he finally hike her other leg up to wrap fully around his waist, fully supporting her weight and driving himself deeper into her, one of his arms coming up to press into the wall beside her, hand caringly slipping behind her head; bracketing her in. Shivering as her breath warms his neck and she cries out for him.

And considering her height… fuck, he can only imagine just how tight she’d be for him, chocking his cock as she squeezes him, milking him for all he’s worth until his teeth are stained red against her lovingly maimed neck. His hips snapping into hers with a guttural growl, panting sensual snarls of encouragement into her ear as he demands and begs in equal measure that she touch herself for him, dexterous fingers chasing her end as he chases his own until-- she’s coming around him with a high and shuddery keen. Her soft walls sucking him deeper into her, legs locking tighter around his waist and keeping him there as he spills himself into the back of her hot cunt with a strangled moan. Claiming her as his as he presses in closer, plugging her full with his cock and cum and praying that it’ll take-- 

…

……

… Huh.

He will definitely be exploring that at a later date…

Or perhaps she wouldn’t want it like that. Wouldn’t want him to be so rough and careless with her. Maybe she would want him to go slower, to be gentle-- to be good for her, to take his time and truly enjoy and appreciate every sweet beg and whimper that falls from her perfect lips. Perhaps she wouldn’t want to fuck him at the back of her shabby place of work, or even anywhere out in the open; maybe she would prefer privacy, for him to make love to her. Would want him to steal her away into his home, to carefully lay her out on his bed and unwrap her like a delicate gift, hands tracing teasing paths along her body before spreading her wide for his tasting pleasures. Taking his time to truly savour her unique flavour on his palette, wanton sounds pressed into sensitive flesh as he takes her throbbing clit into his mouth and sucks.

Broad strokes of his skilled tongue parting her lips and drinking her down, fingers firm as they hold onto the soft meat of her thighs and hips, thumbs rubbing soothing motions into her skin as he opens her up for him. Urges her with hot breathes, praising words, the flick of his tongue and the dip of his fingers into her wet heat, to cum for him; pleads with sound and touch and a greedy haze over his lust-darkened eyes. The gravel in his gluttonous voice vibrating into her, in love with how she reaches and cries out for him as he tells her how good she’s being for him, how badly he needs her to cum for him-- a debauched sound choking out of him as she does. Completely enraptured as she reaches the height of pleasure -- pleasure he brought her, that he will always strive to bring her --, bearing witness to his own personal God-given vision as he watches her writhe against his sheets and listens to her songs of praise, easing her down from that divine high and back into his devoted embrace.

Kissing a line up to her bitten lips, answering her mewls with soft coos and grounding touches, brushing over a nipple before taking the perky flesh into his mouth with a brief suck and fleeting skim of teeth, letting go with a lingering kiss before moving across and repeating the process to its twin. Reluctantly drawing away to playfully nip and press wet kisses into the column of her throat before letting her taste the tanginess of her juices on his tongue. Languidly kissing as he strokes her sides, writing indecipherable words of affection into her skin, content to let her enjoy the bliss of post-orgasm before he slowly pulls away, descending back down the line of her body with a husky, ‘one more, just one more for me, darling...’ 

John knows he wouldn’t stop at just ‘one more’ though. Hopefully she’d be generous enough to give him a few more before he finally slakes his need for her.

And hopefully she doesn't see the hard-on he’s now sporting after such vivid fantasies.

In a particularly bold move, temptation spurred into a fever from improper imaginings, John reaches for her; fixates on a strand of hair that has become untucked from behind her ear. She tenses, muscles coiling tight as she gives him the most suspicious look somebody has ever given him before. He’s actually rather offended. And very hurt.

But it’s sobering, in its own way. Because suddenly he can hear Joseph’s voice in his head from last Sunday (what a turn-off…), advising him that if he wanted to pursue a relationship with this Deputy that he was so smitten with then he needed to be gentle, considerate.

John may have done his ‘research’ on her, extensively so, but that did not mean that he was entitled or even deserving of her affections. He could not expect her to be on the same page as him, especially considering he had yet to even interact with her at that point. She may not have even heard of him yet, Joseph had speculated-- John and Jacob quietly sharing a disbelieving look. Everyone in the County knew their names, and with her being a Deputy there was no way she hadn’t heard of them.

Regardless, Joseph’s point still stood: if John wanted a genuine chance with her then he needed to soften himself, to be delicate, more tactful with her. Demonstrate that he can hear and see her for all that she is and can be, and that he accepts her without reservation.

Think of it like Atonement, Joseph had supplied sagely, fingers steepled, she needs to willingly give her confession over to you, John. Her affections. You can’t just take them.

And to Joseph’s credit, that actually made sense to John.

Atonement was all about accepting one’s sins, confessing them to another whom they trusted would never condemn nor judge them for their past actions or choices; unburdening themselves so they may be reborn pure and untainted for the hopeful future ahead of them. In that regard, his pursuit of his Deputy wasn’t too dissimilar.

So in that brief moment, in that flash of hurt as she steels herself against his considerate gesture and where John remembers Joseph’s words, he pauses. Convinces himself to go slower, to not try to grab at her like a spoiled brat reaching for things that weren't his-- yet. Reigns himself in enough so he doesn’t give her anymore of a reason to potentially be wary of him, to which he has very likely just given her quite a few. Trying in his own distinct way to smooth over her obvious distrust of him.

John knows he’s made mistakes throughout his life. Many would say he’s not a good man, and he wouldn’t necessarily disagree with them. But seeing and learning of her, of recalling his brother’s words and advice, of the many fantasies he’s had before and even during meeting her in this moment, he thinks he could change that. Knows that, if she would have him, if she gave him the chance, he’d be good. He’d be good for her.

Joseph always talks about love, about the power and control it wields over people and-- admittedly, John doesn’t completely get it. 

But with her? For her? He thinks he just might.

… 

He thinks he already does.

[direwombat]

Crime boss au for sybeli 👀

ahhhhh thank you gen this was such a fun little exploration of the quasi formed "mobster syb" au i have floating in my brain. eli strikes me as too much of a hermit to be an effective mob boss, but in an au where syb gets involved in organized crime to pay off her daddy's gambling debts...well...i think she'd be able to run hope county from the shadows :)

also lmao whoops this ended up being almost 2k (but then again, as i always say...anything under 5k is "short" for me).

[SEND ME A PAIRNG + AN AU SETTING]

The great part about living in Middle-of-Nowhere, Montana, Eli finds, is that there usually isn’t a soul around for miles. 

The bad part about living in Middle-of-Nowhere, Montana, is that when an uninvited soul does come knocking, there isn’t anyone around to help.

He’d been disarmed of his rifle so swiftly that he didn’t even notice the other man circling behind him to throw a burlap sack over his head. His hands were forced behind his back, the zip ties quickly snapped into place around them, and he’d been shoved into the backseat of a vehicle. 

Blind as he is, he has no idea where they’re going, and he knew better than to ask. The kind of people who kidnap a man from his home aren’t the kind to answer his questions. He sits silently, shifting his weight uncomfortably, desperately trying to keep his hands from going numb under his weight. His jaw is clenched and his ears strain for any familiar sounds that might give him a clue of where they’re taking him. 

The purring of the engine. Soft chatter, some of it in a language he doesn’t understand but thinks might be French. The crunching of gravel as they trundle along the dirt roads of the Whitetails. 

And then traffic. 

Traffic. Other cars around them. Civilization. Town. 

They have to be heading towards Falls End. He hasn’t been sitting long enough for it to be anywhere else. 

He guesses it’s about twenty minutes later that the vehicle pulls to a stop and the driver cuts the engine. The second he’s pulled from his seat, Eli is hit with the stench of beer, stale cigarettes, and deep fried food, and while muffled, the distinct sound of classic rock blares from a jukebox nearby. A heavy hand shoves between his shoulder blades and he stumbles forward. Every step he takes is hesitant, fearful he’ll walk himself straight into a goddamn wall.

But his handlers guide him with gruff instructions. “Keep going straight,” and, “face right,” and “stop.” A door creaks open and the overwhelming sounds and smells only get stronger as he’s ushered inside what he assumes is likely the Spread Eagle. The sack is pulled from his head, hair lifting in a staticy mess. 

It doesn’t take long for his eyes to adjust. The bar itself is dimly lit and the halls behind it, just past the restrooms and kitchen, are even moreso. A single lightbulb flickers unsteadily overhead and he’s guided once more towards another door. He’d only ever been back here a handful of times -- back when Casey had been kind enough to let him store the game he caught in the restaurant freezers, before he built his own -- and had simply assumed this particular door was to the Fairgrave's office, where they kept their books and receipts. 

But as one man pushes the door open, it isn’t any of the Fairgraves he sees occupying the space. 

Instead, there stands a woman he’s never seen before. A woman with short, dark hair, dressed in a crisp white button up and black pinstripe vest and slacks. Garters wrap around her biceps and her cuffs are rolled up to her elbows -- not that it prevented blood from flecking and spattering onto it. She leans against a heavy mahogany desk in the center of the room, smoking a cigar and filling the room with clouds of smoke. Her hands are bruised and still adorned with brass knuckles while jazz plays quietly from a record player off in the corner. 

The room itself is warm, almost cozy -- styled like an antique library. Dark wood bookshelves line the walls. Heavy curtains, deep red in color, are drawn over the window, blotting out the light, or, more accurately, preventing anyone from seeing what’s transpiring inside. The space is adorned with antique, velvet clawfoot couches and chairs, and at the center stands a heavy mahogany desk. A plush carpet covers the hardwood floors, and laying on that carpet is a man whose face has been reduced to paste. 

Eli’s blood goes cold and he swallows thickly. He feels like he just walked back in time or stepped foot on the set of a film about 1920s gangsters. 

The woman’s gaze flicks over them before settling on one of the men standing behind him. “Clean that up, would’ya?” she says, less of a request and more an order. Then, she looks to Eli and tilts her head towards one of the chairs. “You. Sit.”  He freezes for a moment, deer in headlights, and it isn’t until she shoots him a glare that clearly says Don’t make me repeat myself that he shuffles forward and takes a seat. 

The other two men grip the unconscious body by his arms and legs before dragging him off, leaving a red smear across the hardwood floor. 

The door then shuts with a damning click, and the woman’s attention is solely on him.

“Little birdie tells me you know how to build things where they ain’t supposed to go,” she says, gingerly letting her brass knuckles slide off her hands. She tucks them in her pocket. “That true?” 

He swallows thickly. The bunkers he’s built for himself and a few others are violating zoning laws and he maybe bribed a friend in Falls End to help him get permits regardless. Are the structures technically illegal? Yeah, but it isn’t like he’s hurting anyone with them. “Who’s asking?”

“Someone who’s willin’ to pay you a lot of money for comparatively little work,” she says evenly. 

Alarms, sirens, and all other manner of warnings go off inside Eli’s mind. Getting involved with a woman like this one can only spell bad news for him. It’s never just one job for people like her. “I’m good,” he grits from between clenched teeth. 

Her brows lift in surprise. “Are ya now? ‘Cause that ain’t what I’m hearin’.” She grins. Smugly. Knowingly. Cruelly. “Those alimony and child support checks are a real bitch, ain’t they?”

Eli’s jaw clenches even tighter, the vein at his temple throbbing in anger. Not only does she know about his finances, she also knows about his ex-wife and kid. “What do you want?”

“I want you to do a job, Mr. Palmer.” 

“And if I say no?”

“Don’t see why you would,” she shrugs. “Like I said before, you’ll be handsomely compensated. But, I s’pose if you really ain’t wantin’ to play ball, maybe I let my good friends over at the sheriff’s department know that one of your bunkers is storin’ a helluva lotta oxy. Hell, maybe all of ‘em are.” 

Something in her smile shifts at the threat -- her expression hardens to stone and the teasing glimmer in her eyes fades. She isn’t fucking around. He believes she can and would frame him for drug crimes. But then a question scratches at the back of his mind. Is one of the bunkers he built being used to store drugs? He’s not proud of how his voice shakes. “This is extortion,” he says, as if the moral judgment behind it means anything to her.

She barks a laugh and it's one of pure, and utter amusement. “Of course not Mr. Palmer. This is just blackmail. I’m askin’ ya nicely.” She tilts her head to the side, drinking in the sight of him tied in front of her. She then quirks a brow. “Whether or not it turns into extortion is entirely up to you.” Her gaze then slowly rakes over his body appreciatively and Eli barely suppresses a shudder. “Though I must confess, it’d be a shame to do anything to that face of yours.” She regards him, considering. “How do you feel about your kneecaps?”

“I like’em as they are,” he says hoarsely

She hums and nods. “So you understand what I’m askin’ of ya, then.” 

Fuck him. Either he says no and ends up in the hospital or worse, in prison, or he says yes and ends up in the employ of someone who definitely isn’t on the right side of the law. And while the thought of affiliating himself with someone so casual about violence makes his skin crawl, at least the latter option means that his kid is still taken care of. 

Slowly, he nods. “Think so.” 

“Glad we could come to an agreement,” she smiles, as if she hadn’t coerced and threatened him into it. Setting her cigar down and pulling a butterfly knife from her other pocket, she circles behind him and cuts the zip-tie binding his wrists together. “You’ll get half your payment up front along with detailed instructions of what it is I want you to build. You’ll receive the rest upon completion. Understood?” 

Eli rubs at the chafed skin around his wrists. “Yes ma’am.”

“Good.” She goes to sit at her desk and she takes another puff from her cigar. “Now, you strike me as a smart man, so consider this a courtesy rather than a warnin’: don’t go gettin’ any stupid ideas. You take that down payment and run, and I promise you, y’ain’t gonna make it very far. See, I got a hound who takes his job very seriously and he’s been beggin’ for me to take him huntin’. I’d hate to see you end up between his teeth. Do I make myself clear?”

“Yes ma’am.” 

“Good,” she says, already moving on to the stack of files piled on her desk. “Someone will contact you within the week.” There’s a beat of silence where Eli remains where he is, unsure if he’s been dismissed and too afraid to assume. She glances up at him after a moment and says, “The hell’re you still doin’ here.” Her jaw juts out to motion to the door. “Get.” 

With a nod, Eli hastily rises and shuffles to the door. He takes one last hesitant glance over his shoulder only to find the woman engrossed in whatever she’s reading. Quietly, he opens the door and shuts it behind him. He half expects the two men from before to throw a bag over his head again and drive him back to his cabin, but the hallway is empty. 

Exhaustion hits him like a ton of bricks and the siren song of booze and greasy bar food calls his name. He shuffles out into the bar, ducking and weaving between drunk patrons and wearily slides onto a barstool. “Whiskey, on the rocks,” he says when Mary May stops by to take his order. She pours him a glass and he spends the next hour or so nursing it before knocking the rest of it back in a single go. 

When he places the cash down on the bartop to pay, Mary May shakes her head. “You’re drinking on the Boss Lady’s tab tonight.” 

He blinks in shock. “That so?” he says slowly. Well, in that case, he might as well order something nice. “What’s her favorite?”

The corners of Mary May’s lips quirk into a smile and she pulls a laminated cocktail menu from underneath the bartop. Placing it down in front of him, there’s a drink called ‘Sazerac de La Roux’. Cognac, absinthe, a sugar cube, and two dashes of Peychaud’s Bitters.  

Eli considers for a moment, and then says, “I’ll take one of those.” 

[euryalex]

WIP Thursday

Thank you so much @inafieldofdaisies @direwombat and @captastra for the tags!!! <3

Tagging @cobb-vanthss @detectivelokis @roofgeese @sstewyhosseini @fadedjacket and anyone else who wants to share a wip!

I officially began planning the final installment of Joey and Evelyn's Resident Evil series, Collapse! In this one, Evie gets more time to shine :)

24 October 2003 –

Great Falls Evelyn arrives back in Great Falls where she’s greeted by Sheriff Whitehorse at the sheriff’s office, who she hasn’t seen in years. When he asks her what made her come back, she shows her USSTRATCOM badge, claiming it’s confidential. Whitehorse seems surprised by this and then asks what he can help her with. Evelyn then asks about Cameron Burke, a US Marshal who went missing after investigating the local religious group. Whitehorse doesn’t seem too surprised, rather worried, and claims Evelyn is out of her depth. She is insulted by this and leaves the Sherriff’s station, saying she’ll ask around town. Then, Whitehorse calls her back. He pleads with her to turn back now and that he promised her dad he’d keep her safe. Evelyn refuses to back down, saying it’s her job now. She’s angry at her skills being undermined. It turns out Earl Whitehorse doesn’t know Stephen has passed away, or that he went to Raccoon City. Evelyn lies and doesn’t tell him he died, as the Raccoon City incident is classified information, she can’t tell anyone about. She pleads with him to tell her where she can find Burke and he tells her about the Project at Eden’s Gate. He doesn’t have to explain much, as Evelyn knows they’re the ones who killed her mom. She says she thought they had something to do with it and thanks him for his help. It's in the middle of the afternoon when she gets back into her car. For a moment she considers going to her rental home but decides to keep investigating instead. She heads into town and finds the once bustling town of Great Falls eerily silent. The boarded-up windows and doors and abandoned cars remind her of Raccoon City in September.

Spread Eagle Evelyn’s first stop is the Spread Eagle, which is one of the buildings that’s been barricaded. She hears a noise coming from inside and walks around the building to find a way in. With a broken metal pipe, she opens the door to the kitchen from the back. The building is dark, except for the decorative lighting in the bar. There, she finds Mary May Fairgrave fighting off an assailant. Evelyn quickly comes to her aid, which results in the unknown attacker dying. Mary May recognizes Evelyn and notes how it’s been quite a while. In return, Evelyn asks about her attacker. Mary May explains he was one of John’s ‘disciples’ and how John Seed is the one in charge of the town, after ousting Mayor Minkler which resulted in his ‘suicide’. When asked about why one of his followers would attack – as Evelyn remembers them as peaceful up until her mother’s death – Mary May goes on to explain how everyone is now forced to join Eden’s Gate or die if they refuse. Evelyn asks if they have anything to do with Cameron Burke’s disappearance, to which Mary May responds that they have everything to do with it. She then pleads with Evelyn to leave, as whatever she’s after is not worth the trouble, but Evelyn knows she has to stay. Mary May does eventually point her in the right direction, which would be Seed Ranch.

Seed Ranch The ranch itself is not too far out of town, but when Evelyn gets there she finds it locked down tight. She finds a way in through the boathouse. From the outside, the ranch seems to be completely abandoned. Even the long path up to the ranch is empty. There is a single patrolling cultist who doesn’t notice her. She overhears how he is called inside. When he goes inside, she hears the door lock behind him. Unbeknownst to her, it turns out Nancy – an officer who was at the Sheriff’s office when she visited – had warned Eden’s Gate about her investigation. Evelyn finds a way in through an open window at the hangar, where she finds a single plane. The second space for a plane is empty. She sees a cultist patrolling on the balcony upstairs and sticks to the wall to evade his vision. Her plan is to find John Seed and question him about Burke’s disappearance. The ranch is devoid of life and Evelyn soon finds out why: they all hid in a bunker in the basement of the ranch. In order to access it, she has to figure out the code. Thus begins her search for the code.

[wrathfulrook]

Wrathling - Chapter 3

Series rating: E

Ship: John Seed x Patience Ekner (deputy oc)

Word count: ~3.3k

Series masterlist

Read it on ao3.

Sparring with John Seed over the radio for the second time in as many nights was an unquestionably stupid idea, and Patience was under no illusions about that. But, if anyone in Fall’s End had overheard their conversation, they thankfully kept it to themselves.

As dumb and immature as she knew it was, she did actually get an idea from the baptist. He’d invited her to services. The very services that Joseph held every Sunday at his compound. The very services that all four Seeds would be at. The very services that almost every Peggie had to attend.

During services, it seemed likely that security around Seed Ranch would be at a minimum. She’d have to scout it out during a service to be sure, but she had hope. Perhaps their smaller numbers wouldn’t be so much of a problem if they moved on the ranch during services. For the first time, she actually felt good about getting Joey out.

After all, a John Seed without a home base was a weakened John Seed.

Mary May had come through with regard to Pastor Jerome, and the pastor had come through with regard to the people of Fall’s End. The bartender hadn’t been exaggerating; the pastor had pretty much everyone in town going in and out of the church. When Patience had entered the church, townsfolk were bustling about, discussing weaponry and supply lines. There were maps of Hope County spread out on the table, with color-coded exes and circles she couldn’t identify. It was an organized affair, and the seed of hope inside her had blossomed larger. Finally, she didn’t feel as if she was the only one running herself haggard these past few weeks.

So, Patience found herself in a van with Mary May Fairgrave, Pastor Jerome Jeffries, and Grace Armstrong. Knowing Grace Armstrong, local war hero and actual Olympic sharpshooter, was actively working against the cult was yet another boon to her spirits. Things were looking up.

Driving out of town, they had passed one of the cult’s billboards, John Seed smiling down on their passing vehicle, his arms spread in welcome. We love you, and we will take you. Though Patience had passed the billboard many times before, the sinister double meaning only recently occurred to her. Her stomach roiled.

They sat in relative silence as they took the long way to the Ryes’ place, the only sounds the rumbling of tires on asphalt and the barely audible Peggie songs coming softly through the radio. Everyone ignored the music, though Patience was certain no one wanted to listen to the Hope County Choir sing Joseph Seed’s praises.

“How much longer?” she asked, sounding much more like an impatient child than she preferred.

Pastor Jerome glanced away from the road to check the tiny digital clock on the dash. “15, maybe 20 more minutes.”

Patience nodded, despite the fact that the pastor couldn’t see her where she sat in the backseat. The Ryes didn’t live that far out of town, and taking a straight shot down the main road would have cut the travel time down to minutes. It would have also significantly increased their chances of coming across a Peggie checkpoint, which they definitely wanted to avoid.

“Speed up,” Grace said from her spot in the passenger seat, her eyes glued to the side-view mirror. She spoke the words calmly and lowly enough that Pastor Jerome asked her to repeat it with a questioning hum. “Speed up,” she said again, louder.

Sensing the urgency in her repeated words, Patience and Mary May turned around to look out the rear window, their gazes briefly meeting as they turned. A large white pickup truck, far cleaner than vehicles in Hope County had any business being, was visible on the worn road, rapidly gaining on them. She wasn’t much for gambling, but the deputy would be willing to put money on the P.E.G. cross being emblazoned on either side of the approaching truck.

Upon their noticing the truck, several things happened in the van.

Pastor Jerome pressed the gas pedal to the floor. The van lurched forward, but Patience knew it wouldn’t be enough. The aging church van couldn’t outpace the shiny, new Peggie truck.

Grace turned to the driver and said, “You missed the turn. We have to get to the Ryes.”

“We can’t lead them to their doorstep.”

“Jesus, it’s not like they don’t know where they live,” Grace growled.

“Well, I still don’t intend to bring this danger to their doorstep.”

As Grace and Jerome argued, Mary May threw off her seatbelt and half dove into the last row of seats, retrieving a rifle Patience didn’t even know was back there.

“You ready for a fight, Dep?” she asked, her face steely.

“No,” Patience bitterly huffed.

Despite her words, she pulled her handgun from its holster and clicked off the safety. She removed her seatbelt, following Mary May’s example, and placed a hand on the latch of the door, readying herself to leap out when the van stopped.

Unfortunately, the small group didn’t get a chance to stop the van themselves before the pursuing truck rammed them, winging the right side and causing it to spin out.

“Fuck!”

Patience’s pistol flew from her hand, and for a chaotic fraction of a second, she feared it would fire in the van when it landed. Thankfully, it did not. Her hands flew forward to brace herself on the shoulders of the driver’s seatback, her head nonetheless colliding with the headrest. The butt of Mary May’s rifle flew forward to smack her on the forearm. It would certainly bruise, if it not worse. Her ears rang from the crunch of metal and the squeal of the brakes. For a horrible moment, the van slid on two wheels, and she prepared herself for the vehicle to topple.

The van did eventually skid to a halt, somehow upright. The four resistance members sat in a daze, unable to comprehend what had just happened to them. The Peggies in the truck needed no time to recover, immediately climbing down from the vehicle. Patience wasn’t sure if the collision had messed with her head, because she thought she was seeing four Peggies come out of the pickup. What was this, a clown truck?

But, as the Peggies pulled out their guns, those in the van sprang into action. Grace and the pastor opened the driver side door and leapt out, Grace having to clamber over the console to get out without being in the direct line of fire. Bullets pierced the air as Pastor Jerome began scouting an escape route and Grace took cover behind the engine block, poking up now and then to fire a shot.

Mary May scrambled over Patience to get to the driver’s side, unable to exit on her own side without opening them up to the Peggies’ line of sight. The two women were a tangle of limbs as they tried to maneuver in the small space. Eventually Mary May managed to yank open the sliding door, pausing only to grab her rifle.

With Mary May out of the car, the deputy was able to throw herself to the floor. She felt around on the ancient, weathered, gritty carpet, looking for her gun. She stuck her throbbing head underneath the seats.

“Come on, come on,” she chanted to herself under her breath, unable to hear anything but bullets striking the van.

Finally, her hand found the cool metal of the pistol’s barrel. She wrapped her fingers around it just as Mary May grabbed the waistband of her pants and yanked, pulling both Patience and the gun out of the van.

“What the hell are you doing? We have to go!”

Patience looked around, noting Pastor Jerome heading into the trees and Grace shooting at the Peggies, three of which remained standing.

“We can’t all make it!” Patience shouted over the commotion, gesturing towards Grace and her cover-fire.

“We can’t stay here! They can’t see us, we’ll have a second before they chase us.”

Patience didn’t try to argue, only running after them as Mary May broke into a run and Grace abandoned her firing to join her.

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

Patience had barely breached the tree line when she felt a crack on the back of her head and everything went dark.

~~~

When Patience woke, the first thing she was aware of was a stiff pain in her neck. It didn’t hold her focus for long, though, as the sharp, splitting pain in her head began vying for her attention. It took her a moment to recall why her head would be in so much pain. The car crash, getting knocked out, probably hitting it a third time when she fell…

She pried open her eyes, though it took a couple of tries. The deputy found herself looking at the ground, and realized her neck hurt because she was being held upright by someone while her head lolled to the side. She closed one eye, then the other, trying to measure light levels to see if her pupils were unevenly dilated. There was no way she didn’t have a concussion.

She raised her head and turned it around, simultaneously stretching her neck and waiting for her vision to come into focus. She looked up and realized she didn’t know the scraggly-bearded, odorous man in a P.E.G. cross-emblazoned shirt holding her up. He gave her a gentle smile and she gave him a blank, bewildered stare. She yanked herself out of his grasp only to realize that she couldn’t yet stand on her own. Her knees buckled, but the man caught her before she fell.

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” He gave her that same smile again, and she realized she didn’t want to exchange pleasantries with a Peggie.

“Fuck you,” she spat. The man seemed taken aback, but continued to hold her up while she waited for the feeling to return to her legs.

Seeing as she couldn’t go anywhere, Patience figured she should at least take stock of her surroundings. They were standing on the banks of the Henbane river, or maybe one of its tributaries, under the moonlight. She and the Peggie holding her were not the only two people there. There were almost a dozen Peggies standing around, over half of them armed. Closer to her were a number of people, civilians, she assumed, clearly frightened. They, like her, were probably here against their will. At least Mary May, Grace, and Pastor Jerome were not among them.

The low thrum of Peggie chatter ceased when John Seed, himself, walked into the clearing. Crap.

If she were to write an autobiographical account of the reaping so far, she’d title it Patience Ekner and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Three Weeks. Or two and a half weeks? What day was it now?

John cut through the Peggies and their prisoners, walking straight into the river. He turned to face the assembled crowd with a bit of dramatic flair, Patience noted. The baptist stood in the river, emulating his namesake as he took in the potential converts before him. When his eyes met hers, his expression didn’t noticeably change, but she felt suddenly cold with fear. Like a mouse being watched by a hawk. The moment ended as quickly as it arrived, though, as his eyes continued to scan the crowd.

He pulled a small, well-worn copy of the Book of Joseph from his pocket. He flipped through it until he found whatever it was he was looking for and inserted a thumb to hold his place. Having secured the necessary passage, he put what Patience assumed was supposed to be a charming smile on his face.

“Welcome brothers and sisters,” he greeted with his arms spread.

He got no response, but it didn’t seem to deter him.

“Today marks the beginning of your journey to salvation. You will embrace the word of Joseph. You will say ‘Yes. Yes, I will be saved. Yes, I will be reborn. Yes, I will cleanse my soul for the Project at Eden’s Gate!’”

He paused here, as if awaiting applause. He was probably used to it, the smug prick. But no one applauded. No one said anything; they were too scared to speak. Patience wanted to say something but kept her mouth shut. Taunting him over the radio was a little stupid. Taunting him here in the open, surrounded by armed Peggies, while largely unable to use her legs? That would be a lot stupid. And Patience liked to think she was only a little stupid.

John began reading from the selected passage, but she wasn’t listening anymore. She was testing her legs. She needed to get the hell out of there. She gently pulled away from the Peggie keeping her standing, but didn’t push away his arm when it reached out to spot her. She could stand on her own then, but she wouldn’t be running any marathons. She was in no shape to go anywhere. She’d have to stay put.

Patience snapped back to attention when John said, “Come forward.”

The Peggie accompanying her put a too-familiar hand on the small of her back and guided her towards the river. A quick glance around the clearing showed each of the civilians was being directed to the river, even dragged along when they refused to walk.

They were made to kneel beside the river, facing away from it and towards the Peggie that had brought them. Patience felt they resembled a group to be executed.

She felt like she was awaiting execution, too.

John began preaching once again, and Patience experienced an uncanny feeling of dread. She was going to be baptized. John Seed was going to baptize her. In the name of his god, of his prophet brother. Patience had never been religious. She didn’t feel that this was a betrayal of any faith or god of hers, but it did feel like a violation. Like the cult could dip her in the river and suddenly claim her, like she wasn’t even allowed to choose what she believed. She would be baptized, and they would start to consider her one of them. And Patience did not want to be one of them. She would not be one of them.

But regardless of her wishes, the scraggly man that had been holding her up, who had led her to the river, now guided her gently back, and she had no choice but to let him. One of his large hands cradled her head while the other lightly pushed her shoulder, forcing her head into the river. The frigid water made her tense up, but the Peggie kept going, forcing her head into the coldest water she’d ever encountered. John blessed them all quickly, and Patience was mercifully raised out of the icy current.

How could he bear to stand in that water for so long?

When pulled from the river by their respective Peggies, the newly baptized came together to seek safety, and warmth, in numbers. They stayed silent, but Patience could see her same questions and anxieties reflected in their eyes. Where would they be taken now? How would they be able to escape?

Patience jolted in surprise when she felt a hand grasp her shoulder so firmly that it hurt. Then, John’s voice hissed, too close to her ear, and her stomach dropped.

“Not this one. This one’s not clean.”

It took Patience a moment to process and react to her rapid change in circumstance. Suddenly, she was being dragged back to the river. She fought against John Seed’s grip on her. She twisted and squirmed and tried to dig her heels into the earth. Both parties dripped icy river water onto the soft, warm grass, John from his pants and boots, and Patience from her saturated braid.

She shouted, demanding to be let go, but he continued on single-mindedly, as if he couldn’t even hear her protests. The Peggies, armed and unarmed, stood around the clearing, menacing in their inactivity. The baptized civilians looked on, unwilling or unable to intervene.

John pulled her all the way into the river, not stopping until they were nearly waist-deep. Patience had gasped in shock when he dragged her into the freezing water and all warmth seemed to flee her body. She was grateful for that gasp, though, when he plunged her into the water entirely.

Patience, through distorted underwater vision, watched his face twist into a hateful sneer. She beat her fists against him, tried to claw at his face with her numbing hands, but he firmly held her down. She continued to fight him, futilely in her weakened state, even as she contemplated just how unbelievably painful the icy water would be when it hit her lungs.

She finally stopped fighting as black static pricked at the corners of her vision, just bracing herself with a hand on the baptist’s bicep while she devoted her remaining energy to resisting the desperate need to breathe. If she could force herself to pass out before she drowned, her death would at least be less painful.

Wasn’t drowning supposed to be peaceful? Whoever said that must have drowned in warm, tropical waters. Patience didn’t feel any peace. She felt only cold, rage, and fear.

This fucking asshole. She wished Sharky had burned him alive.

When her vision was more black than not and the sound of rushing water around her was barely audible, Patience was raised from the river. Her gasp of oxygen was so intense that it wracked her body and shocked her with its volume. She threw her arms around the neck of her would-be murderer, pressing her soaked body against his. She forced her frozen fingers to bunch the silky fabric of his shirt into her hands, holding tight so as to not fall back under the flowing water.

“Ahhh, shhhh,” he mocked the deputy with his imitation of soothing, but she held fast, ignoring his sounds.

John made no attempt to push her away, instead utilizing her frantic clinging to pull them both out of the water. Upon reaching the shore, he pulled her arms away from him and let her fall heavily to the ground. She let herself lay there, shivering and gasping, waiting for her blood oxygen levels to rise enough to fully restore her vision and hearing.

“Do you mock the cleansing, John?”

Patience forced herself to raise her gaze at the sound of Joseph Seed’s voice. It was likely only his appearance that had stopped John from keeping her in the river. But she refused to let herself feel any type of gratitude to the man.

“No, brother.” She couldn’t imagine John looking so demure, or so meekly accepting chastisement from anyone else. She didn’t even really expect it in response to his brother.

“You have to love them, John. Do not let your sin prevent that.”

Love? Patience was certainly not feeling the love. But, to be fair, she wasn’t exactly sending a lot of love John’s way, either.

“Yes, Father.”

Father. Patience would’ve rolled her eyes if she had the energy.

“The deputy will reach atonement, or the gates of Eden will be shut to you, John.”

John’s face reddened beneath his neatly trimmed facial hair, and he seemed to shrink a bit under his brother’s words. She would’ve felt bad for him if he was anybody else, if she didn’t outright loathe him.

Patience watched Joseph leave the clearing again. She watched the Peggies corral the recently baptized into transport trucks. She watched John Seed straighten himself up. She watched him walk up to one of the armed Peggies. She watched him take the man’s rifle. She watched him walk over to her. She watched the hateful sneer on his face return. And she watched the butt of the rifle come towards her face.

Chapter 4

[general-kalani]

There's a plate of cookies set at Joseph’s desk. There's a little note beside them from Deputy Fairgrave.

"I made some cookies last night, and I brought some in. They're peanut butter chocalate chip. If you don't like them let me know.

-Your fellow deputy Alice Fairgrave. "

A blink. Two blinks. Three.

Well he was going to hoard these for himself abs especially hiding it from Whitehorse and leaving a note on her desk.

Thanks for the cookies, reminds me of home. Means a lot.

- Joseph Abaddon Whitehorse

[adelaidedrubman]

actually the fact the fairgrave home was a separate location previously taken over by the cult and the spread eagle was not already doubling as a personal residence (as i had originally assumed) makes it ten times funnier mary may was lending jestiny a spare bedroom.

imagine getting your family home taken away and having to convert the limited space of your bar (also at risk of imminent closure) to include your living quarters. despite the hardship, out of the kindness of your heart and with a still lingering hope you lend a spare room in your extremely cramped living quarters to the junior deputy who killed the cultists occupying the town. she proceeds to damage one of the few remaining keepsakes of your family you have then storms out to go jerk off the middle management cultist who took your home and caused the deaths of said family in the first place.

[farcry5seedfamily]

Radio Calls|| John Seed Part 3

||The deputy finished helping Fall's End in killing the peggies and reopening the bar so that the resistance can drink and enjoy in peace, she met Mary May Fairgrave and to see Pastor Jerome again, thanking the deputy for bringing peace, in the night she left the bar to get some fresh air until she hears John's voice on her radio||

John: brothers and sisters someone out there is not playing by the rules, someone is taking from us. stealing what rightfully belongs to the Father. They are a murderer and a coward but God sees them and God will guide us to them, they will be found and they will be punished this is the will of the Father.

Deputy: Are you mad that I'm winning and you're losing? John, why are you hurting these people? *she says selfishly, looking around*

John: because they must join the will of the Father, that's why we do this, I want them to confess all the sins, and they must atone, remember that you owe me a confession in my bunker, deputy *he reasoned with the agent* If you want me to release Deputy Hudson, you must do what I ask of you. I don't like the idea of hurting Hudson if you don't do what I want.

Deputy: Give me a break, will you? Look. . .I know you're obsessed with me, I understand you, just like Jacob. . .you both want to have me, but the problem is that I won't give up so easily. *she looks at the "Yes" sign from a distance on the mountain* What I said in your bunker, it's true, I never lied to you, if I lied, do you think you'd let Hudson go free? of course not, john. . .I ask you for mercy, do you want to have me? send your people, and I surrender to them on my knees. I won't do anything wrong unless they shoot me with the bliss bullet.

John: I just want you to answer me truthfully. . . Why do you want to give up so easily to rescue your friend?.

Deputy: I may have a deep feeling, that I don't know if it will ever go away. *she is sincere with her soft voice* You and Jacob. . .Both of you are driving me crazy, I would like to get away from you, get away from this war, I don't know how it will end, I don't want to hurt you John, I never want to have that consciousness in my head in case. . .I make that mistake.

John: you are afraid, afraid that you don't want to hurt me, afraid of losing me, afraid of losing jacob, but you are very afraid that your people will turn their backs on you, and you won't know what to do with your life from now on? *he says calmly, listening to the agent about her problems.* come home Deputy, come with me where I can protect you from those demons that you have inside.

Deputy: I can't John, I don't want to abandon these people from so much destruction that you and your brothers do, I'm tired, tired of doing this, but I had no other choice, I should never have come here, I shouldn't have arrested your brother and caused this chaos. *she lets out a frustrated sigh, biting her lip.* I don't know why I'm talking to you, it's silly to have confessed my attraction to you.

John: Deputy. . . Please, we need to talk. *he says pleading looking for the solution to talk to the Deputy face to face.*

Deputy: There's nothing to talk about, I'll continue with what I'm doing, I'll kill you and your whole family, don't provoke me John, you don't know what I'm capable of, you don't know me perfectly. . .stay alert John, because very soon your reign will fall. . . *she turns off her radio so as not to hear John anymore, then looks at the "Yes" sign and thinks whether to continue fighting or to leave the resistance.* This is going to kill me to my grave. . .

What do you guys think? I love the Seed Brothers but would you like me to do a special scene between John, Jacob and the Deputy with angst,drama and a little bit more fluff.

and I will also do supernatural scenes with the Deputy who is a vampire or werewolf with the Seed family where they will soon discover the secret of their little lamb.

but that will be very soon. . . have a nice day everyone.

[selfshipstorm]

what if we didn't have to fight anymore | when is a monster not a monster

The fact that she hadn't been to Fall's End in about a week was moderately worrying. Minerva tried to make it her mission to stop by at least every other day just to make sure everything was okay in town, and the fact that she had not been back in nearly a week, distracted with other things, and had not heard from her friends worried her. "Mary May? Jerome? You there?" "That bastard ran us all outta town." "What?" "John moved into Fall's End and ran us all off. Apparently he wants the town all to himself." "I'll get over there and see."

The drive to Fall's End was less than eventful. It was shockingly quiet. As her truck rumbled to a stop, Minerva glanced around. Seeing Fall's End this vacant was odd. The fact that she didn't see a single person as she drove up to the church. However, she knew John had been here because the decorations were far from Jerome's standard.

The church was decked out to look like a wedding was underway. As Minerva pushed the door to the church open, the man she was waiting for surged forward, but managed to hold himself back from simply jumping into her arms.

"Minerva." "John."

Minerva smiled as the cougar at her side snarled. "Easy, Peaches. You don't need to worry about him." "Nobody's behind me, it's fine." At her confirmation, John closed the distance and pulled her into his chest. "We need to stop this." "What?" "Stop the fighting, stop the war. I don't wanna sneak around any longer." "So what was all this then?" "A final push to the end. Keep up the charade until the very end." "Are you serious about this? You do this, your contact with your brothers has to end. Entirely." "I know." "Are you gonna fight with us?" "If that's what I have to do." "There's one thing you can do that will make everyone trust you a little more." "Which is?" "Your bunker key. I'm letting all your captives go and bringing Joey home." John reached for the key around his neck. A sharp tug and he offered the key and the chain to her. "I'll be waiting." "I'll find you here."

Sure enough, Minerva set everyone free in John's bunker. She brought Joey home. And as everyone celebrated at the Spread Eagle, Minerva made her move. She walked inside, John pressing himself to her side as he joined her.

As the pair sat at the bar, two people noticed. Mary May and Pastor Jerome. "What is he doing here." "He's on our side now. Two beers, Miss Mary." Minerva stated simply, ordering for the both of them as if the man they'd known as their enemy wasn't sitting at the bar next to the leader of the resistance. "Are you not gonna mention him?" "I trust him. He says he's fighting for our side, and I believe him. You said there would be other defectors, Jerome. And here's one that's willing to fight for us. If we'll have him." "Is this true." Mary May turned to John. "I'm done fighting Joseph's fight. I want to end this. I've realized he was just using me for what I had and what I could offer him. Minerva helped me realize that. So, if you'll have me, I'd like to stay." Mary May and Minerva locked eyes. "If you're vouchin' for him he can stay. Only 'cause it's you." "Appreciate that, Mary May. Thank you." "Yes, thank you Miss Fairgrave." John echoed Minerva's sentiments, and Mary May turned, retrieving two beer bottles and settling them in front of Minerva and John. "If you're gonna stay, at least drink with us. Celebrate a small victory."

Minerva smiled, looking out over the crowded bar celebrating Joey Hudson making it home alright. Minerva's partner was home, her boyfriend had his foot in the door with the resistance, and everything was looking up, at least for the night. "Here's to a new tomorrow" "A new tomorrow."

[chazz-anova]

Type: Story Mission Location: Grain Elevator (Holland Valley) Quest Giver: Mary May Fairgrave  Rewards: Widowmaker unlocked in shops, 600 Resistance points Description: "Eden's Gate has stolen the notorious Widowmaker, which Mary May inherited from her late father. Its return to Fall's End would surely lift some spirits."

Plot

After liberating Fall’s End from the cult, the deputy visits Mary May in the Spread Eagle. She tells them of her father and his prized truck, the Widowmaker. Shortly before his passing, Eden’s Gate stole the Widowmaker, stashing it at a nearby grain elevator.  The deputy reclaims the 18 wheeler, and bashes through the road blocks the cult has set up around Fall’s End before bringing it home for good. 

Trivia/Tricks

If you’re going for stealth, coming from the east is easier since the enemies largely congregate in the west side of the area. 

You can use a zipline descending from a nearby house to reach the warehouse's skylight.

The key to the warehouse can be found in a tent on a table near the group of peggies (it is possible to retrieve without alerting them) or in the pockets of one of the cult VIPs in the area. 

The song that plays when the Deputy takes control of the Widowmaker is "Barracuda" by Heart.

Dialogue

Mary May (Initial Dialogue): You have some balls running into town like that. Most folks take one look at Eden’s Gate and turn the other way, otherwise they get taught a hard lesson. My dad was one of the first to stand up to ‘em. Any time one of the peggies showed up looking for trouble, Papa would hop in his big rig and chase them outta town. He loved that truck. Called it the ‘Widowmaker’. And those fuckers stole it from him a week before he passed. You really wanna piss off the cult? Get the Widowmaker back. Show the cult we’re not just gonna roll over… and give the folks here something to cheer about. It’s locked up under guard at a grain elevator east of here… but I think you’re just the person for the job.

Mary May (After Receiving Quest): Ma’s the one who named the Widowmaker. She said that it put him out on the roads so much that it practically turned her into a widow. After he started using the rig to bust up the cult’s roadblocks, the name fit another way… ya know? … Ain’t a day that goes by that I don’t miss that ornery son of a bitch. 

Mary May (Random): I remember the first time John Seed stepped foot in this bar. I’m wipin’ down counters and Ma’s counting the till. Then I heard her back ‘What the fuck do you want?’. I look up- and he’s standing in the doorway. Eyein’ me like I’m a meal. Some people ‘round here said ‘Give the Seeds a chance.’. I knew they were bad news from the start. 

Mary May (Over Radio When Approaching Destination): Alright, Deputy, the cult’s got the Widowmaker locked up at the grain elevator. You’re sure to run into some peggies there so be careful! 

Mary May (Over Radio After Taking Widowmaker): Holy shit you did it! You took back the Widowmaker! The cult’s gonna throw everything at you now, shove it right back down their throats! My daddy put cannons on that thing. Shoot away, deputy! Hit those sons of bitches. Better yet, honk that horn every time you do so I know when to cheer. The way you’re handling that rig would make my dad proud. Now bring the rig home where she belongs. 

Mary May (Once You Get It Home): I gotta say deputy, seeing my daddy’s truck rumbling home sure brings back memories. I’d stand out here every time he came back, just like this, wavin’ him home. You definitely got the grit to handle her, and more importantly you got the heart. My dad woulda liked you, if you ever need to use the Widowmaker you don’t even gotta ask. In the meantime, I’ll keep my ear to the ground. If I hear anything worth your while- I’ll let you know.

[therelignedstars]

Fairgrave is fully sober once and is confused about why she's getting cuddles from Joseph. "I want to go home now, please."

[nightwingshero]

Rosemary, abatina, dill, hollyhock, and sweet pear for whoever you feel like talking about! 💜

Thank you, hun!!! I did a mixture, because I’m missing some old OCs of mine, and some need serious development. Yeah, so it got really long, I am so sorry!

Rosemary: What's their fondest memory?

Blair: It would probably be laying out in the backyard with her dad while they watched the stars, or her dad buying her that nice telescope that he’d use with her. It meant a lot to her that her parents indulged when it came to her interests, they were always supportive. Most of her time was spent at aquariums, the observatory, zoos, and just doing a lot of stuff with her parents. Science fairs were always a blast, because her parents would help. 

Emma: This would be either her and her brother Mark playing in the pond they had or playing football on the beach in the summer. Em would also work on an old Mustang, one she’s still helping him build, and Ash would come over most days and they would all just have a huge dinner in the backyard. Georgia gave decent weather for it. Most of her fondest memories are with her family or Ashton, because they grew up together and did a lot together when Emma’s family moved there. A beautiful, sunny day in Summer always takes her back. 

Quinn: There were times where they would travel back to Russia to visit the remaining members of his mother’s family, and he would love it. Quinn absolutely adored his babushka, and the stories she would tell. His mother would tell the same tales, but it wasn’t the same as how his babushka would tell it. There was also sailing with his father. That was something Quinn thoroughly enjoyed, and it was something they continued on doing until his father died. 

Wren: Definitely playing piano with her mother! That is probably the most precious moment for her. When she plays it now, she still feels as if her mother is there with her. Not only that, but her music teacher was her one good thing growing up. Mrs. Hall taught Wren how to actually play, and when Wren would sneak to lessons (under the guise of studying or going to the library), Mrs. Hall would often bake cookies and brownies for Wren, as if she were her own grandmother. Wren attended her funeral when she passed, and it actually felt like she had lost her grandmother when she heard. But those are memories she holds dear. 

Abatina: Are they very picky or particular about anything?

Blair: Not really, no. Blair is rather easy going and goes with the flow. I think the one thing would be don’t touch her work station. It’s organized chaos with an actual system that only she knows, and she will absolutely lose it if you mess with anything because that’s her life’s work you’re messing with. I think that could be said for any scientist though, and she is very verbal about it. It’s a light reminder, or a happy request until you get too close and she becomes slightly frazzled and makes you keep your distance. 

Emma: She can be an absolute control freak and has to have things a certain way (whether that’s because she was in the Marines or if she inherited it from her mother, who’s to say?) No eating in her cars, don’t touch her guns, and if you’re going along with her on something, you’re following her lead. Ashton, Nora, and even Roach give her hell for it, but honestly? Sometimes she can’t help it. Emma has a habit of taking control of a situation when it calls for it and she’s a super organized and neat person. Everything has it’s place, things are cleaned or done a certain way, and she would rather just do it herself. 

Quinn: His hair and shoes. Listen, Quinn is very boyish in looks (there’s a reason Ryan Gosling is his faceclaim) and his hair is usually neat or done how he wants it. He’s not overbearing about it, he just takes his time with it because he does put care into his appearance. His shoes are shined, his clothes match and his outfit is sharp, he doesn’t go more than a few days without shaving. Once the Collapse happens, it’s one of the things he can control, so he does. Grayson often jokes he’s the prettiest guy of Armageddon, but Quinn laughs with him. 

Wren: She doesn’t like it when other people drive. Having been in a traumatizing car accident, she prefers to be at the wheel for that sense of control. It’s honestly makes her so damn anxious when that’s not the case, and Quinn drives like a damn maniac from time to time in New Dawn. She will cling to something for dear life, and absolutely will backseat drive. It leads to a lot of spats between her and Jane, Quinn, and Ivy. 

Dill: Do they have any rivals?

Blair: I would say that one of the biggest would be John Constantine. Blair is skeptical when it comes to the mystical and supernatural, needless to say, she absolutely does not believe in magic. However, when the Particle Accelerator went off, someone close to her was wearing a totem or a spiritual pendent that got mixed into her meta powers (it’s how she can cosmic project and do some of the things she can with energy manipulation...it also helps balance out her going supernova and such), so...some of her powers are part of the arcane. Johnny knew that the second he met her, so when she gave him grief and became skeptical when he was helping Ollie bring Sara’s soul back, he just smirked at her and went “hate to burst your little bubble, love--” and honestly, they’ve been at it from there.  

Emma: Ha! Emma is competitive and very proud, so yeah, she has rivals, some more fun than others though. For example, her rivalry with Nikolai (and sometimes Price) is who can drink the other under the table. Yuri...well, they ended up in a fist fight on a misunderstanding when they first met, so while he’s working with her and the 141, there’s definitely some rivalry there with them trying to one up the other. She’ll spar with Ghost to see who is better too. Honestly, she’s always up for a challenge, and its something she shares with a lot of her fellow Marines back home--including her cousin and her teammates. 

Quinn: John fucking Seed. Listen, they hate each other, full on loathing, because Quinn isn’t afraid to point out that he’s in a cult and we all know how John is when someone makes him feel insecure and inadequate...with Quinn he very much does, even if that isn’t his intention.  It also doesn’t help that John notices how Quinn looks at his wife from time to time, and he doesn’t appreciate it, but the biggest thing is that Quinn openly challenges him on everything. To Quinn, he wants to poke holes in his logic and show that John isn’t at all what he thinks he is. Quinn is a natural leader, he had been in the Navy, he knows what that looks like and he’s quick to call John out on shit. Wren gives him a bit of a run, too, their rivalry just happens to uh...turn into something else. 

Wren: Holly Pepper and Mary May Fairgrave. Those are the two that gives her the most trouble. In any other scenario (and in most AUs), Wren and Mary May get along just fine, but in canon? Wren straight up punches her in the face. There’s more to it, of course. Wren is being worn down by people wanting her to do this and that for the Resistance, her constantly being pulled in every direction and being forced to give to people without them giving in return. And Mary May wouldn’t shut up about the truck, while saying Wren was dragging her feet on what the Resistance needed done (mostly because Wren was sleeping around with John, but they didn’t know that yet), and Wren just gets overwhelmed with frustration and anger, and straight up punches her in the face and tells her “if you want the truck so damn bad, go get it yourself”, and storms out. Holly Pepper later becomes an issue because she knows John slept around with her, and Holly loves shoving it in Wren’s face. So...Holly ends up dying because she straight up attacks Wren, and Jane helps her with it because she knows that John has a soft spot for Wren. Plus there’s that little shit Quinn in New Dawn...they’re a lot of fun. 

Hollyhock: What's their biggest goal right now?

Blair: Currently, it’s to find her place and stride with the team and her powers. She just wants to not have to lay awake at night and worry she’ll lose control again and hurt her friends and loved ones. Her whole life has changed, and there are still things that are throwing her off. She needs to find her footing again and feel more confident in what she’s become. Helping people, including herself and teammates/friends, is what’s most important to her. 

Emma: As of right now, it’s to regroup and hunt down Makarov. She’s still healing from when Shepherd took out the 141 base and tried to kill her, Ashton, and Nora. The stitches are still healing a bit, but she’s pumped up and ready to take him down. Her goal, and focus, is doing whatever Price and Soap need her to do. It’s almost tunnel vision at this point. 

Quinn: Take down the Highwaymen and fix whatever bullshit Whitney and Wren have going on. He won’t at all pretend he knows what fucking type of politics they have in New Eden, or what rules they’re going by, but it’s very damn clear that Ethan is no good and needs taken down. Him and Grayson came because Carmina asked Rush, and they were never ones to back down from a challenge, not when it comes to helping those in need. So, he’s gonna take down Mickey and Lou, allow Grayson to avenge Rush while protecting Prosperity, and then stand with Wren and Whitney as they take over New Eden.

Wren: That depends on if we’re talking Far Cry 5 or New Dawn, but she’s mostly taking out the head Seed and establishing peace. She’s trying to do what’s right, and whether that’s for herself (which is the eventuality of her changing sides) in Far Cry 5, or for their people and her family in New Dawn (overthrowing Ethan and opening New Eden to more freedoms.) It’s all revolved around Eden’s Gate though, and she agrees to help Quinn and Grayson because she still cares about Kim and Nick, and much of the others, so it’s just a pitstop on her plan. 

Sweet pea: If you had to choose a favorite dessert for them, what would it be?

Blair: Crème Brule, strawberry shortcake, or chocolate lava cake. You could say all of the above, to be honest, she loves sweets. Blair is always snacking, and they’re usually little cakes, fruits, or something sweet. There’s a reason crepes are her favorite breakfast foods, fruit and sweet? Yes. Which I guess you could  add porfait on the breakfast menu too, in that case...anyway, snacking is usually something her and Mick has in common, though she’s not constantly looking for it the way he is. Mick finds food in missions and randomly...Blair is more disciplined than that. She will grab stuff for him a lot of the times if they’re in the same room or if she’s working near him. Leonard just stares between them, he’s not sure what he thinks of their comrade (he also lost his more recent memories, so he can shut it.)

Emma: Dark chocolate cake or tarts. Anything that has a bitter or sour tinge to it, because she’s not really a sweets person. Not when it comes to that, at least. She loves her mom’s sweet tea (and homemade lemonade). But she just would have something like raspberry butter cookies, cherry pie, or even an old fashioned ice cream (yes, with bourbon). She loves dark chocolate though. And tiramisu. 

Quinn: Oh, he loves the Russian desserts his mom would make, and honestly, Quinn has such a sweet tooth. Bird’s milk cake, Russian rugelach, waffle cakes, and especially kartoshka. He would help his mom (or babushka when they would visit Russia), and would eat them with Russian tea they would make. He also enjoys many flavors of gelato. 

Wren: Cheesecake. Without a doubt. She has always been, and will forever be, in love with cheesecake. And all kinds, if we’re being totally honest. She will eat any flavor, she feels strongly about it. You wanna piss her off easily? Eat her cheesecake. Wanna get on her good side again? Bring her cheesecake. John does. Whenever he’s in trouble, he throws a cheesecake on it. She’s constantly eating it to the point Whitney and Rowan have both reminded her that it’s not a meal. Does she listen? No. 

[chyrstis]

About the Character

Tagged by @fadedjacket! Thank you! This looks like fun, so I’m glad I can give it a shot. :D

― your muse’s name: Hana Vao

― one favorite picture / faceclaim of your muse:

FC - Seychelle Gabriel (just with red hair and more freckles)

Plus one bonus, due to a photobombing Sharky:

― two headcanons you have for your muse:

She is that 80′s movie dork that can’t help but quote a few of her favorites in tense moments, and does actually say “Yippee-ki-yay motherfucker!” before blowing up a cult asset in one of the regions. (Haven’t decided if it’s Jacob or John’s yet, but odds are pretty good that it’s something of John’s) As a kid she’d stay up late and watch all of the late-night cable movies on rotation waiting for her mom to come home from a long shift, so that influenced her taste in media ever since.

Is a huge soccer fan. Whenever she switched schools, the first thing she’d do is try to get on a team to play, and for a while thought about doing it professionally. She eventually let the dream go, but will be the first to join in if a game starts. Center forward’s her preferred position to play since she’s a little...‘competitive’ when it comes to scoring.

― three things that your muse likes doing in their free time:

Watching action movies, or the best 80′s schlock that can be found

Looking up at the stars to track the constellations

If she had a bike, she’d be tuning and working on it, but failing that, she’ll using her time to do the worst combination of running/smoking you’ll ever see. She’s trying to quit, but it’s hard-going.

― seven people your muse loves/likes:

Sharky Boshaw (friend/lover), John Seed (asshole eventual friend/lover), Grace Armstrong (friend), Hurk Drubman Jr. (friend), Mary May Fairgrave (friend), Joey Hudson (friend), Earl Whitehorse (mentor), (and bonus goes to the Ryes, b/c I can’t not include them)

― a phobia your muse has:

Open water. It’s only if she’s close enough to it, and actually starts wading in up to her waist that it kicks in and makes her start to break out in a cold sweat. She used to love swimming, and would hit any of the local pools to get in a few laps whenever she had time, but after nearly drowning as a teen, she’s been unable to break the fear ever since.

Tagging: @sharky-broshaw​ @redroci​ @lxmbert​ @solesurvivorkat​ @jackalopestride​ @shallow-gravy @outranks @geronimo-11 @softseeds​ @jenchwuq​ @writerofblocks​ @guileandgall​ @painterofhorizons  @ofravensandgenesis​ @honesthearts​ and @ma-sulevin (sorry if you’ve done this already, but no pressure intended!)

[statichvm]

do you have any random headcanons about a TLOU or FC5 character 👀👀

Have a random dump of FC5 thoughts. Nobody @ me.

- Staci Pratt has a huge family, and has to call home at least once a week or his sisters will show up at his door.

- Joey Hudson was a jock, probably softball, volleyball, or soccer. Her dad loves to show her trophies to anyone and everyone.

- Mary May Fairgrave had a chance to go to college, but stayed behind to look after her father and brother.

[foofygoldfish]

☀️ 🌙 ☕️ for maizie 💕

☀️ What makes your OC genuinely happy? A person, an item, their hobby? Where is the place they’re happiest, or most at home? What is the happiest they’ve ever been?

getting to relax with her friends in fall’s end - some of her favorite pre-reaping memories is watching movies with the fairgraves. she has so many moments when it’s just her and mary may, or her and helene, that she thinks of after the bombs go off

🌙 If your OC could have one wish come true what would it be and why? Would there be consequences to this wish or would they regret it once they get what they want? What would they give in return for this wish to come true?

that she got out of nashville earlier - helene might not (probably wouldn’t) exist, but she would have been free from her overbearing family and she’d be her own person for the first time in her life. i guess if she really had the wish - she’d wish that she still could have helene, while still coming to fall’s end earlier than she did. she doesn’t care if she just washed the dishes at the spread eagle - she just... didn’t want to stay in nashville.

☕ Give us one (or more if you feel like it) of your OCs deep dark secrets! Why do they keep it hidden? Spill the tea!

hmmm. well. for one, she does like pineapple on pizza, but she’s not gonna tell anyone that, for obvious reasons. she also refuses to tell her family where she is - she doesn’t want them to come and try and take her back to nashville.

she also once accidentally stole a book from the library - she turned it back in a few months later, but she refuses to tell anyone about that.

oh her crush on mary may could count for a while couldn’t it