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englass · 2 years

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Cry For Us

Pairing(s): Yandere? Seed Bros x Reader

Warning(s): Low mood, Depressing thoughts, Manipulative behaviour, Yandere/Possessive behaviour, Non-consensual touching (nothing explicit), The Seed Bros being themselves, terrible dialogue.

Word Count: 4,195

A/N(S): Gonna start this off by apologising to @derelictheretic , @fadedjacket and anyone else that I’ve not responded to a WIP Day tag for over the last couple of weeks; I’m so sorry! 😭 Please take this finished piece as part of my apology and belated WIP Day contribution, even if it Is no longer an actual WIP anymore ❤️

- - -

It’s another one of those nights.

The house is cold and empty and so, so dark. So reminiscent of the home which houses your poor, fragile soul. Lights off with hardly an echo of feeling, thoughts non-existent as you just sit there, curled up tight in the corner of your couch and swamped by your jumper. Too large for your short frame, but comforting. Your only comfort. The closest thing to a hug you can get.

There’s a terrible headache that won’t ease. No tears to accompany it, except a bone deep weariness. Your limbs heavy and your mind painfully void of thought. And every time you try to think of something there’s another pulse behind your eyes, another ache within your head that makes your eyes sting with the threat of tears.

They don’t fall though. They never do. They’ll just make the headache worse.

It’s not like you have anything to cry about anyway. It’s just...

It’s just another one of those nights. Another one of those days. Another one of those weeks.

You should have known, really. Should have known that after months of feeling fine that you’d eventually crash. That your mood would slowly liquidate between your fingers and you’d be left empty handed, lost and made hollow save for a persistent headache and a draining fatigue. Stuck to bone and muscle and soul.

Melancholy.

Pure, soul crushing melancholy.

And as always you’re not sure what's caused it. Too many things maybe; nothing at all perhaps. It’s a gradual descent. A small misstep and then you’re stuck. Like quicksand. And like quicksand the only thing you know to do is to stop moving. To let it run its course and hope that it won’t pull you any deeper. That you’ll get out of it, eventually.

That knowledge offers little comfort though.

Body aching you shift, feel the cold touch the places you’ve kept warm and feel the cold places your warmth hasn’t touched. A small sound of discomfort whining lowly in your throat, briefly stretching out your legs before pulling them close again. Hands staying safely protected within the arms of your comfort jumper, fingers kept warm in the crook of your elbow.

Settling, you place your head gently on the arm of your couch, rubbing your cheek into the hood of your jumper. Thrown over your head not long after deciding on your current resting place.

That must have been hours ago now. It was the early evening when you first sat down, and now the sky is dark and the moon is out.

With a deep sigh you pull your hood further over your head, the cold quick to chill your fingers before they retreat back inside your jumper. The thick fabric obscuring your view save for part of the coffee table in front of you, a half empty cup that has long gone cold.

It’s a waste. You should probably drink it, even if it won't taste great. Or dump it down the sink. But you don’t. You just stare. Blink slow and breathe deep and just stare.

You aren't particularly religious. Don’t know if there is some sort of higher power out there, not convinced you’d be able to comprehend it if there was. But times like this you wondered. Times like this you wondered if that higher power was out there, if it knew of you. Knew of the questions you had: of why you were like this, why it felt like you were losing yourself, why you were slowly spilling out onto the floor and unable to soak up the pieces; why you became like a cracked and empty glass, unable to hold even a millilitre of happiness.

You know no one will hear you, that no one would answer you if you were to ask, let alone some divine entity, but still... you still wanted someone to hear you. Still wanted someone to answer you no matter how unlikely. You just wanted someone to tell you what to do, to give you the answers and teach you how to fix this broken part of yourself. You just wanted someone to be there for you, to acknowledge and accept this broken husk that you become.

You just wanted someone to hold you, to keep you close and safe and to not let go.

You just want someone to love you--

Vision slightly blurred and a wet whimper catching, dying in your throat, your body freezes up as you hear the distinct click of your front door, followed by the creaking of your floorboards. Can just about hear a subtle thunk beneath the measured groaning of your crappy apartment. Heart rate picking up, cold digging deeper, headache throbbing with every continued noise that shouldn’t be. That doesn’t belong.

After all, you live alone.

With a sniffle you slowly turn your head, cautiously eyeing the doorway, burying further into yourself as some distant part of you absently wonders if the ghost you sometimes swear you live with (or maybe that’s your lonely mind playing tricks on you) is about to walk into the room.

You wait with bated breath. Release it with a whine that sounds so terribly loud to your pulsing head as a shape fills the doorway.

No, you realise with widening eyes and a shaky echo trapped in your throat, it’s so much worse than any ghost.

Even with the room bathed in darkness, only split apart by the cracks of moonlight cutting sharp incisions into the shadows, you can’t mistake the man in your home. His tall and bulky frame completely takes up the space of your doorway. Always so intimidating, but even more so now, with you at your most vulnerable, frail and weak, and with the shadows and pale moonlight striking harsh and menacing lines across his scarred features.

Jacob Seed is not a man you ever wanted in your home.

For an agonising moment nothing happens, the both of you just existing in the same room. Staring at him with a different breed of cold settling over you as he carefully takes in your surroundings, too-blue eyes that almost seem to glow with the light of the moon reflected in them, unhurriedly scanning over everything before landing on you.

His sudden sigh startles you, makes you flinch and creates a pitiable sound within your throat. Head hanging for a second before he shakes it gently, looking back up at you with a look you don’t quite have the mental wherewithal to understand.

“‘Seems they were right, after all,” he observes thoughtfully, the deep timbre of his voice rumbling within your head. “You’re close to breakin’,” he takes a meaningful step towards you, “aren’t ya, pup?”

Distantly, buried somewhere beneath the blanket that has smothered all that you truly are, muting everything inside to a far off echo, you feel you should be offended; so boldly being laid bare like that. Flesh torn back to reveal how soft and squishy you are. How fragile; how weak. But you can’t quite reach it. Can’t grasp the shame that should come with being called out like that, feeling like it’s just a hairbreadth away but yet still so far.

Even your fear feels distant; sedated and so unattainable.

The way the imposing man practically prowls towards you, head high as he looks down at you, should scare you. Make you get up and run, attempt to try and put distance between you, but you barely feel a whisper; drowning in complete apathy.

What would be the point anyway? That’s all it will be: an attempt. You know you’d barely make it to your front door before he’d grab you. And you already feel so tired. So drained and just… empty. No energy to really think about it, let alone take your chances.

Nothing has really happened yet you already feel so defeated. So done. So ready to go to sleep and pray that tomorrow will be better. So ready to just lie back and accept whatever fate has in store for you. So ready to just give up… that you already have.

Jacob stops beside you. Watches you as you watch him before you close your eyes, turn your head away to hide within your hood. A hand venturing into the cold to grab and hold it down over you, another wounded sound slipping through closed lips.

Listening, you focus on the sound of your shaky breaths. Can make out the sound of Jacob’s calm breathing and the shifting swish of fabric. Can hear and even feel the slow dip of the space next to you, tensing at the unexpectedly weary sigh from the man now sitting at your side.

“I’m not here to hurt ya,” he smoothly rumbles, “if that’s what you’re worried about. We’re just concerned, is all.”

You huff a breath through your nose before you can stop yourself, but thankfully Jacob doesn’t seem to take any offence. Merely replies with a hum.

“They’ll be here soon. Johnny’s been pitching a fit ‘last few days. Been driving me and Joe crazy with how much he’s been fretting over ya,” he says with a breath of a laugh.

Another sound slips from you, weak and exhausted, as the hand holding your hood down slips beneath it. Warms itself against your forehead and eases the ache within your skull, if only for a second.

Something moves behind you, lays itself across the back of the couch, but you pay it little to no mind. Too busy focusing on the numbness in your toes, the hidden shivers over your body at how cold you feel. Trying to search for some sort of word or emotion to throw out there. Nothing comes though, and instead it just creates another ache in your skull.

“Then again,” he continues, oddly conversational, “me and Joe have hardly been any better. We just have a different way of showing it.”

Apparently whatever has placed itself behind you is not intent on letting you ignore it. Feeling it move and then a small jolt of a tug that has your hood being carefully pulled away from you. “Not this time though,” eyes opening to look at the man next to you, his bright eyes easily catching your dull ones. “For once we’re all in agreement about what we need to do. Question is, ‘you gonna let us?” He asks, eyebrow raising at your blank stare.

With a flutter your eyes close again, unable and unwilling to keep the contact. Maybe he’ll go away if you ignore him. Maybe he’ll put you out of your misery. He has done for many others, if the rumours are to be believed.

A sharp click of a tongue and a mumbled “guess not” is all the warning you get before your hood is unceremoniously dropped back over you. A gasp and startled protest tripping over your lips as a hand suddenly wraps itself around your shoulders, tugs you sideways as another hand hooks itself under your knees and quickly drags you over into your assailant's lap. A clear fizzle of panic getting your stiff body to struggle pathetically against his hold.

“Goddamn-- calm down will ya, pup? Already told you I’m not gonna hurt ya. You don’t have to be so fucking stubborn...” He grouches, hand kept firm around your shoulder to pin you to his chest, his other hand slipping out from under your knees to instead steal beneath your skewed hood and hold your head against him; fingers carding through your hair as he does so.

Your breath stutters at the contact, a mistiness entering your vision. Body tensing, pulling your legs closer, curling up into yourself as well as unintentionally into the man holding you. Faltering as you feel just how warm he is.

“There ya go. See? Nothin’ to worry about. You’re okay, pup. It’s alright. You’re alright…”

You can’t remember the last time someone held you like this; comforted you. Just let you be without asking too many questions, without needing some sort of explanation, without making some sort of comment about how you feel. You can’t control it. You don’t know how to stop it. It’s not your fault that you’re fragile. It’s not your fault something is missing. It’s not your fault that part of you is broken. It’s not your fault. It’s not your fault…

Lip trembling you take a shuddery gasp of a breath, squeaking as your throat tightens. Head pounding as you fight to keep the tears at bay. Hands slipping from the arms of your jumper to disappear into your middle pocket, one hand finding its way back into your opposite sleeve as the other bypasses it. Stays hidden within your pocket to sneakily clutch at Jacob’s shirt. Soaking in the warmth of his skin beneath the material as your hood cushions your cheek against his chest.

“Don’t hold back, honey. It’s okay, I’ve got you. I’ve got you. You’re so strong, d’you know that?” he hushes, “So brave to keep on fighting, even when you want nothing more than to stop. You’re so exhausted, aren’t ya pup? Well, you don’t have to carry that burden alone anymore. It’s okay to rely on others. It’s okay to let go. It’s okay to cry every once in a while…”

You shake your head, breaths getting deeper and quicker as Jacob continues to stroke your hair, words of praise and comfort murmured above you, vibrating from him into you as you try to focus on the pain in your head instead of him. Focusing on all the reasons why he’s wrong, why you can’t trust him, all while desperately trying not to cry. You don’t want to cry. You don’t want to. You can’t, you shouldn’t.

The opening of the front door startles you slightly, makes you try and hide yourself deeper in Jacob’s bulk, pulling your hood over your face and trapping his hand against your head as you hear the quick footfalls of your latest intruders.

“Well, you two took your time,” is Jacob’s gruff greeting.

There’s an answering scoff, quickly overshadowed by a patient, “We had a few urgent matters come up that needed our attention. How are they?”

Joseph, you realise anxiously, fingers tightening in your hold over your hood and Jacob’s shirt.

The oldest brother grunts with a noncommittal shrug, “Could be better. They barely put up a fight when I grabbed ‘em. Haven't moved since.”

“Jacob,” is Joseph’s gentle admonishment.

“What? You expect me to see ‘em all curled up like this and not do something? Don’t be a fool, Joe.”

“You shouldn’t have forced them though, brother. We all know how skittish they are about being touched.”

“Funny, I don’t remember you havin’ a problem with that when you suggested this little intervention. What was it you said again? Something about exposure…”

There’s a strained sigh, exasperated.

The conversation between the brothers fades into the background as an echo of suspicion takes up your periphery; unsure why Joseph is trying to take some sort of high ground when you know that he’s the touchiest of them all. The fact that he -- they are aware of your dislike of being touched and would still do it anyway doesn't help your currently subdued distrust towards the men, either.

Swallowing thickly you carefully readjust yourself, legs stretching out a few inches before yanking them back as something brushes against them. A choppy whine becoming lodged in your throat as you feel something -- a hand? -- place itself on your knee, taking a steady hold of it.

“Ah ah, easy there! My, you really are jumpy, aren’t you? It’s okay though. You don’t have to be so scared anymore, my dear. We’re here now,” John, you tremble. “Can I see you? Will you let me? I just want to see your pretty face…” The couch dips at the added weight, thumb rubbing indiscernible patterns into your knee as soft fingers ghost over the back of your hand. Easing around and into your palm, applying a coaxing pressure as he pries your hand and hood away from your face.

With a low noise you hesitantly open your eyes, blinking against the honeyed glow of the lamp John must have turned on behind him. Defiantly keeping your eyes down as you notice and feel him start to invade your space, leaning in until he’s almost over your lap as he desperately tries to meet your eyes.

The barest hint of betrayal colours you as Jacob stops stroking your hair, grazing over your cheek with a soothing touch before loosely slotting his fingers around your neck, thumb and pointer finger resting uncomfortably on the angle of your jaw. Raising your head to look at his brother as you whimper plaintively, unable to break away the moment John’s ocean deep eyes catch your own.

A boyish smile lights up his face. Eyes twinkling with an adoration you’ve never seen before as they drink in your weary expression. Softening and turning sympathetic the longer he looks at you, the more he takes in. Colours layered with a gleam of understanding that makes your chest tighten.

“Oh, sweetheart,” lip wobbling you sniffle, trying to ignore his tone as he releases your knee. Hand cradling your cheek as the other manages to wiggle your hood free from your grip, pushing it away from your face and then taking your hand in his, drawing it close until he can press his own cheek into your palm. Beard scratching at the sensitive skin.

“Look at you,” he coos sweetly, “You’re so perfect for us. Why don't you cry? I can see that you want to. I bet you look even prettier when you cry too. You know there’s no shame in it, right? We won’t judge you for it, we’ll never judge you for anything. We just want to help you, darling. To look after you. Don’t you want that? Won’t you let us? Won’t you let us love you?”

Your lips twist, eyes stinging as your vision starts to blur again. Only just seeing the sudden feverish hunger that flickers to life in his eyes at your reaction, a predatory shade churning their colour darker as he slinks closer. A whimper shared in the space between.

“Oh. Oh. Yes, yes that’s it darling! Just like that. You’re being so good for me, so good. It’s okay to cry, sweetheart. It’s okay. You know we’ll look after you, right? We’ll protect you, I promise we will. We always will. You’ll never have to pretend again. We’ll keep you safe. We’ll take you home and you can have whatever you want, whatever your heart desires. I’m more than happy to spoil you, just tell me what you want. Anything you want and it’s yours, you just need to tell me. You just need to rely on me, only me. I’ll take such good care of you if you let me love--”

“John. That’s enough.”

He freezes. Takes a shuddery breath as he realises how close he has gotten to you, his mania driving him deeper into your (and Jacob’s) space until his nose is almost bumping yours. Shades of colour shifting like tempestuous waves as he turns to his brother with wide and glossy eyes, his rapturous tone switching to a high and petulant whine.

“But Joseph--”

Joseph shakes his head, lamp light casting a glare across his glasses as he takes a step forward. “I know you want to help them, John. We all do. But you must have patience. You shouldn’t pressure them so.”

John furrows his brow, mouth opening with a retort before he’s beaten to it. A harsh scoff sounding out above you.

“Yeah, you only say that cos you wanna be the one to say the words to ‘em,” finally letting go of your jaw Jacob’s arm drops to your lap, fingertips brushing absently over your hip. Throwing a challenging look, “ain’t that right, Joe?”

Joseph levels his brother with a flat stare.

“All I am saying, Jacob,” he enunciates purposefully, smoothly navigating around the coffee table until he stands before you all, eyes shielded by yellow lenses as he gazes neutrally down at his older brother, “is that we don’t want to cause them unnecessary stress by being impatient and rushing into things. They’re dealing with enough as it is. We do not want to add to that.” Blue eyes made green shift to you. That unnerving calm of his, so self assured and righteous, mellows; his scrutinising gaze turning deceptively gentle as he smiles serenely at you. Hand placed atop your head, “Not more than we already have.”

His touch is heavy, domineering in how you can feel the intentional press of him. The smallest application of pressure threatening to bow your head. It makes you feel all the more hopeless. That yawning absence of thought and those swaddled remnants of emotion growing all the more noticeable. The lack of despair that you know you should be feeling, being so cruelly cornered like the wounded animal you are, drives the wedge in deeper. The involuntary acceptance weighted down by your vacancy of care, the captivity of self.

Because that’s what it is, isn’t it? Thoughts and feelings, all that you are, locked away in a place that you can’t quite reach. On the other side of a door that you don’t have the key to. Lost in a building so dark and vast that you see no end in sight; a compass without directions that does nothing but spin; straining to listen to the faded grinding of gears somewhere further beyond. But the room never changes, the compass never stops, the sound never gets louder no matter how much you try. Just stuck. Just still. Just a void that shouldn’t be.

It should make you sad. There’s an echo of that sadness, trying to breach the disconnect, but once again you can’t find the source. Can’t take hold or fully embrace it. Just aware that it’s there, like background noise you don’t pay a thought to. And even if you wanted to, you wouldn’t be able to find it.

The only thing you do feel (other than a persistent headache) is tired; in every capacity.

Too physically weak to battle your way out of Jacob’s hold. Too mentally drained to analyse John’s every word and intonation. Too emotionally defeated to dread whatever intentions or warped plans Joseph has in mind for you.

This was planned, you know that much. And as Joseph steals your face away from his brother – John’s hands migrating to rest at the nape of your neck and splaying across your collarbone with his thumb to your throat, Jacob’s hands constricting in they’re hold as the one at your shoulder falls to join the other snaked around your waist – that tell-tale sting pricks your eyes again.

The world begins to blur around the edges as Joseph bends over you, angles your face heavenward to look directly up at him. Teary eyes forced to meet the blue turned green of your self-imposed saviour. His warm breath fanning over you, intently watching the fluttering of your lashes with every half blink you make; trying so hard to keep the tears at bay, so hard not to cry in front of him. In front of any of them.

You know they'll take advantage. Watch as you fall apart at the seams and the stuffing comes loose, act as if they didn’t brandish the scissors that tore your stitching out as they sew you back together. You know they will. Your vulnerability is prime meat for vultures like them.

Silently displeased by your show of restraint, Joseph’s stare sharpens. Turns razor-edged as he tilts his head with an unreadable expression. Grip constricting as he keeps you still, dissuades the need to fidget before you can act on it, observing every twitch with a critical eye. As if you’re a puzzle he’s trying to figure out how to conquer.

You can’t say you’d be surprised.

Something must show on your face because his gaze eases, takes on an edge so tender and warm that you feel as though you're being embraced by eye contact alone. It’s so raw that you feel yourself quake, fault lines threatening to come apart; stitching fraying and soft fuzz peaking out just as you feared they would.

And Joseph smiles.

He brushes your skin. Thumbs caressing your upper cheeks, further still until he’s so close to one of your eyes that you can’t help the instinctive reaction to protect it. Feeling the resistance of your lashes brushing his skin as you attempt to guard such a vulnerable part yourself from him.

But as his thumbs ease away, settling with cupping your face instead of ghosting over your eyelids, your breath stutters as you glimpse Joseph's smile grow into a grin, a gentle coo on his lips as you realise your mistake far too late; skin warm then shockingly cold as the air touches the tear line now running down your cheek.

A flash of emotion, poignant and real, lances through you:

Fear.

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evilvvithin · 2 months

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guess who finished rdr2 campaign just now

(Rest in peace Peanits my beloved brown hungarian pony i'm going to be emotionally recovering for next couple of days)

#got the worst ending possible it was heartbreaking especially saying goodbye to my horse that was unnecessary #got bit of epilogue left yet but yeah #i feel like i mustve missed something within the game or do sth wrong because it just wasn't such masterpiece to me as i heard everywhere #too annoying n slow paced with most missions being the exact same over n over n stretched out to oblivion with bunch of unecessary dialogue #still a good game nevertheless but yeah #i grew to like dutch so much tbf why he gotta be that way #playing rdr2 made me want to play fc5 so damn much #and doom eternal #tw mari

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youredreamingofroo · 3 months

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when in doubt, play far cry 5 🫡

#yeah i missed this game. from the banjo ass main menu ost to the sound effects that manage to scare the shit outta me no matter-#-how low i turn my volume down #blasting some music over top of this game is peak especially now that ive already played it once and dont need to listen to dialogue #i used to play music over the game whenever i was driving in a car cuz i had already heard every song on the radio at least twice #might try to do a solo playthru with no GFHs. i love sharkie and nick but i play almost EXCLUSIVELY stealth #and both of them are ANYTHING BUT STEALTH 😭😭 i mainly had them just for their silly dialogue together #yapping #Varooity : FC5 #Varooity #< adding tags JUSSTTT in case I decide to start posting- I wont change my varooity page just yet tho

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derelictheretic · 2 years

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John 'i'll huff and i'll puff and i'll blow your house down' Seed

#nadine is typing...#I was playing fc5 earlier and just doing prepper stashes and side missions bc those are fun #and I heard this line and actually laughed #he rlly thinks he's a big bad wolf ahsjdjddjdj #this makes me feel better abt how I write his dialogue lmao #Far Cry Tag

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bisexualjohnseed · 1 year

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After learning that originally John was supposed to whistle Lou Reeds ‘Perfect Day’ (or maybe it would play during the confession scene? not sure), I really can’t help but wonder what fc5 would be like if they doubled down on the twisted obsession/romance elements they were playing around with regarding John.

Like, the way he talks to the Deputy and his language choice, some of the NPCs comments about John being into you, his combat dialogue (’come out my dear, I just want to talk’), the way he touches the Deputy and lingers, the threats he uses, the fact he decorated the church like a LITERAL WEDDING for the atonement, etc. It’s all there, and it’s really interesting, but they never really go anywhere with it other than letting it linger.

I am so desperate for them to elaborate on it. Was John actually into the Deputy. Why. Why them specifically. What did he want from them? We know that part of John’s obsessive nature is because Joseph threatened him and the idea of falling out of his good graces is like, John’s worst fear, but there is still something else there. Frantically trying to capture the Deputy so Joseph doesn’t kick him out of the cult does not equate to being extremely romantic/erotic towards them. If anything those two things are very much opposites because half of the reason John failed in the first place is because he was far too lenient with Dep because he liked them.

Ubisoft make a John Seed DLC or something and I’ll love you forever <3

#i think about this a lot #i really really do #like the most they ever did was include the sharky/adelaide voice lines and also make a suggestive tweet around valentines or something #I NEED AN EXPLANATION #YOU CANT JUST DO THAT WITHOUT EXPLAINING #maybe whenever i get into the game industry i'll track down the writers and like beg them to elaborate on what they MEANT by that #far cry #fc5 #john seed

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redreart · 1 year

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Everything we know about Staci Pratt

Some time ago, I wrote all the stuff you can possibly know about Staci Pratt (everything that was deleted and hard to notice from the first play). But it was in another language so I decided to translate it lol.

Also, I'm really inspired by @lulu2992 posts, because I'm still obsessed with fc5 lore as well

So, let's begin. I'm going to use some materials from other people on Tumblr and I'm going to leave links to their original posts and mention them in the credits later on.

Everything we CAN find in the game

At the very beginning of the game, while still in the helicopter, Pratt jokes about our Dep and offers Hudson to drink something from a flask, maybe an alcoholic beverage. (maybe the flask is to blame for the helicopter crash, lol). And note that Pratt is the main pilot of the helicopter (because he sits on the right).

Screenshot by @llazyneiph

Based on everything, we can conclude that Stacy is not affected by depression and probably is not a part of Eden's Gate at this point in the game. Although from another angle we can see that the flask he holds in his hands has an Eden's Gate cross on the other side, I assume Ubi were just too lazy to create another texture just for that scene.

Screenshot by @llazyneiph

While leaving the helicopter to go follow the sheriff Pratt may say something if you stay there for too long.

Staci Pratt: Suck it up, rookie! Get your head out of your ass and get up to the church. The fuck you doing? Follow the sheriff. Jesus...

When we meet Stacy after the failed attempt to put Joe in jail, he is already serving Jacob it is not clear why the box does not work on him, although then in one cutscene Only You from the loudspeaker has an effect on him. The game does not provide an answer to this question, although hypothetically this can be associated with deleted content, which will be discussed a little bit later.

Please this this amazing post by @lulu2992 because it summarizes what I want to say here

at.tumblr.com/lulu2992/i-feel-there-is-something-about-deputy-staci/pxihfpi1xgp4

And just a quick thing about Jacob.

In oasistrings (you can find it here text.farcry.info) Jacob call's Pratt "peaches" just once and I found no explanation except my own assumptions.

But the most obvious reason is that Jacob uses this to break Pratt. I mean he's already in a bad state but Jacob is just pushing it further. But also It's interesting that Staci likes Peaches the cougar. She's the only animal companion that he's positive about. This part is kind of cut from the game though because Pratt usually stays in the bunker. But if you'll have him as a companion with the help of the Resistance Mod he'll def comment on the animal you're with.

Another interesting thing was noticed by @hopecountyradio. Idk myself, but it is really worth mentioning. In the very first cutscene with Jacob, someone is carrying our Dep. @hopecountyradio thinks that it is Pratt who does it.

I've made a little collage so you guys can compare the shoes.

Just a bunch of random short facts that ARE in the game

Staci is 26 years old

He wears a wristband

He used to be or is a catholic because he knows the "Ave, Maria" prayer (you can listen to him praying here, Ave, Maria is the second one) which is most common amongst Catholics in the US (thanks @noire610 for telling me this)

Content that was deleted from the game

Let's start with the analysis of audio. Interestingly, not all of this ended up in the oasis strings.

Let's start with this interesting thing provided by @voices-of-hope-county. There are several dialogues between the peggies, Pratt and peggies, and even Jacob and peggies. All of them are united by the fact that they took place (should have happened) in the Veterans Center. Only one of them is available in oasis strings. I could not find the rest in the text file. Let's start.

Audio 1

Dialogue 1 | Audio 1:

Female peggie: Can you fucking believe that guy? Male peggie: Who? FP: The Deputy… Pratt. He was wandering around behind the cages. MP: The fuck was he doing there? FP: Who the hell knows? Jacob's probably got him off doing some shit. MP: Hahahah… He's lucky to put two words together after what Jacob did to him. FP: Seriously… Sometimes I think it's a mistake to put so much trust in this converts. You should come willing to the light, or be struck down. MP: Amen to that, sister.

Dialogue 2 | Audio 1 (can be found in oasisstrings):

Dialogue 3 | Audio 1

Staci Pratt: Hey… I need to get in. Male Peggie: Seriously? Didn't I just let you out? SP: There's a new prisoner… I gotta go get him. For Jacob. MP: Fine… Get going. Just leave me the fuck alone.

Dialogue 4 | Audio 1 (It sounds like Pratt knows the person he's talking to well)

Male Peggie: Don't this fucking dogs ever shut up? Staci Pratt: They're called Judges. MP: They are still fucking dogs. SP: Have you ever seen them kill? Those are more than just dogs, my friend. MP: Well… They still stank like dogs. Good Lord… Huh… Anyone cleans those cages? SP: Are you volunteering? MP: Fuck no! Haha… Are you kidding? SP: Then stop complaining.

Dialogue 5 | Audio 1 (It sounds like Pratt knows the person he's talking to well)

Staci Pratt: How does it look? Male Peggie: Not good. SP: What does that mean? Do we need a new one? MP: Not sure… We might be able to get away with just replacing the belt. SP: Right… And how long will that last? MP: Well… It might buy us a couple weeks. SP: Or… It may just blow up tomorrow. And then where will we be? MP: Up shits creek without a paddle. SP: So what do we tell Jacob? MP: We'll replace the whole fucking thing. It's the only way to be sure.

They're probably repairing a car because they're discussing timing belt.

Although the last dialogue in the audio does not involve Pratt, it does include Jacob and an explanation of how the converts are treated.

Dialogue 6 | Audio 1

Jacob Seed: Anything to report? Male Peggie: Sir. Truck just pulled up n' dropped of a bunck of new prisoners. JS: Recruits. MP: What? JS: We call them recruits. Soon they'll be a part of our army… Part of the Project. You need to respect that. MP: Ye… Yes, Sir. Of course, Sir. JS: I'm going down to see how the process is going. I'll be back soon.

As we can see there was plenty of stuff that should've happened in Jacob's region.

Audio 2

Staci Pratt: It's just gonna get harder… They want an offering. A sacrifice… I'm trying… I'm trying my best. You have to know that!.. I'm sorry.

Probably was talking to our Dep.

Audio 3

Starts after the prayers somewhere around here

Staci Pratt: The whole time I was locked in that room I just kept thinking about how I got here. You know why I became a cop? To get laid. That was it. It was a whim. And then... after awhile, I tried to convince myself that I did it for the greater good. To help people. But I can't. I know that now. Jacob taught me that... I don't know what I'm supposed to do anymore... I don't even know who I am. I don't know what we're supposed to do now. Protect and serve? Out here? There's no law anymore, Rook. Look around! Someone should've been here by now. Nobody gives a shit about what's happening here. We're on our own. Survival of the fittest. Weak and the strong.

(I would love to meet these badge bunnies in Hope County ngl. Probably Adelaide eas one of them)

Also as @lulu2992 notices Pratt's name in game files is spelled Stacy.

Previous character designs

@hopecountyradio extracted a bunch of videos of Pratt's confession.

The first version is this one:

Also in this vid Jacob has greenish eyes

The second version is this one

Has an amazing Eden's Gate intro

And Staci looks like that:

A general conclusion can be drawn from all three versions, incl. the one that was included in the final version of the game, even though the water is hard to see there. Stacy was electrocuted here, so when we rescue him in the Armory that's another reason why he blows the control panel.

Thank ya'll for reading 🖤 I would love to chat about it and add info if you know something/can provide something I haven't mentioned

I used materials from @lulu2992 , @hopecountyradio , @voices-of-hope-county and text.farcry.info

#stacy pratt #staci pratt #deputy staci pratt #deputy pratt #fc5 lore #fc5 #far cry 5 #far cry 5 lore #fc5 fandom #far cry 5 fandom #deputy stacy pratt

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deputy-morgan-malone · 1 month

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15 Lines of Dialogue

I was tagged by @carlosoliveiraa, @inafieldofdaisies and @voidika to do this meme, thank you!

I think this has gone around, but tagging @strafethesesinners, @josephslittledeputy and @clicheantagonist in case you haven't done it yet.

Rules: Share 15 or fewer lines of dialogue from an OC, ideally lines that capture the character/personality/vibe of the OC. Bonus points for just using the dialogue without other details about the scene, but you're free to include those as well!

Deputy Morgan Malone (FC5 OC) - Main verse

“For real?”

“What do you need?”

“I don’t give a single fuck.”

“Well – I had my mum.”

“If you touch my dog, I’ll touch you.”

“There’s a saying in England – ‘if I didn’t laugh, I’d cry’”

“The truth is, no-one deserves to die, and we’re all going to anyway.”

“What, d’you need a fairytale, so you can sleep at night?”

“I’m doing everything I can.”

“Don’t worry about it.”

“I’m here, I’m here.”

“I don’t know if I agree.”

“I’d like to see what’s over there.”

“I’m not supposed to die young.”

“Oh, I’m just hanging out, trying to keep my blood in.”

#tag games #personality #family #childhood #pets #animals #religion #morality #death tw

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inafieldofdaisies · 1 month

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15 Lines of Dialogue Tag | Tagged by @la-grosse-patate @g0dspeeed @direwombat @aceghosts @sofrosine @nightbloodbix @kyber-infinitygems @corvosattano @voidika @thesingularityseries

Deputy Sabrina Donovan | WIPs: In Hope of Tomorrow / A Trial of Errors (AU; Lines 9-15)

1. "Who the fuck ties a person to a chair on wheels. Did they rob an office?"

2. Sabrina narrowed her eyes, the corners of her mouth twitching, "Did someone try to drown you, Seed?"

3. "Yep. I'm still here, didn't teleport through the steel walls, ain't going anywhere, so you can fuck right off." She waited for his footsteps to recede, but they never did, "Like seriously, you're now gonna watch me while I sleep? Fucking creepy."

4. "It was either the radio or I start singing off-key, and I doubt you'd like that."

5. "I will have you know I've been throwing knives since I was 15,", she nodded towards the knife block at the counter, "keep talking and you would find out my actual aim."

6. "Your face is kind of hard to forget." "Was that a compliment, Deputy?" Sabrina rolled her eyes, "You wish."

7. "Are you taking us there?", she repeated, her voice taking an edge, "You have to know, I won't let you take HER."

8. "Didn't strike me as a lace type of girl, Deputy. Are you taking that one, too?", he cocked his head, eyes darkening as he examined the piece. "Oh, you know, I have to win the Miss Universe competition somehow."

9. Her hazel eyes shone as she let out a laugh, "If I had to bet, I'd say you'd be the one getting cold, Mr. Duncan, stolen clothes and all that. I feel like I can skip on asking to see what you're wearing." "Ouch.", he rubbed at his chest at the jab, "That one hurt." "Too soon?"

10. "And you're alone?" "No. A whole harem of guys is keeping me company, actually. They're currently fighting who will be sleeping on my tiny bed, and who's taking the ground, pillowless. A true form of punishment, I tell you."

11. "I'm dealing with a… situation." Her expression was unreadable, "I can see that." "Roughly estimated, how much did my chances sunk with?", [John] asked, flipping back to the view of his face. "Who says they did?"

12. "There's a bat.", he whispered like the creature would hear him and put an end to his game of hiding. "A rat?", she echoed incorrectly. "Sure, Detective,", he hated how his voice shook even as he spoke quietly, "but the type with fucking wings."

13. "Soo..", she began slowly, "why are you without pants? Don't tell me they got stolen while you slept… was it the bat? Should I call Stockton? Though, I think crimes committed by animals are out of his jurisdiction, you can probably vouch for that."

14. "What were you doing up so late?" "A girl has to have some secrets, John."

15. "You could always march over there and threaten to sue them for harassment… Your poor ears would thank you." "Don't tempt me. Because we might end up with a different situation on our hands." She raised an eyebrow, "Them asking you to join?", all he could do was blink as she laughed quietly, "Kidding. Oliver isn't rubbing off on me, I promise."

Deputy Calahan Hartley | WIP: In Hope of Tomorrow

1."I WILL GIVE YOU PURGE, YOU FUCKERS! What timing to be out of dynamite."

2. ["You ready to work?"] "As ready as I can be after crash-landing, almost drowning and getting shot at. Just another Monday, really."

3. "I'm not a leader, chief, hell, it's a miracle I'm still a Deputy. Fuck. Am I even one anymore?"

4. "Zorro will be on his best behavior, I promise. You won't even notice he's around. Plus… he gives mean foot rubs." "Rookie.", disbelief seeped into [Mary May's] tone. "Fine. The foot rubs were a lie. Though, I can take up on that task." "You ain't coming anywhere near my feet, Rookie."

5. "I couldn't leave him behind, gorgeous. He's my son." A huff escaped her, probably at the pout he followed his words with, "He's a raccoon."

6. "One day, you're gonna realize what you're missing, gorgeous. And I won't be looking for payback for these insults. Too much."

7. "Your plan.", Leslie corrected him, "That you devised after getting drunk yesterday." "Most of my plans are conconted that way, chief."

8. "Oh, Leslie, bold and brave, agree to march over to Johnny's GATEEEE…", Hartley sang over the usual lyrics, meeting Zorro's dark gaze, "He looks like John, right, my boy? Even the universe agrees, Parish."

9. "Good old Joseph, oh, how he'd lose his mind if he learns 'God' has been showing visions of his brother fornicating to someone else, he'd probably die from the shock before I have the chance to kill him."

10. "I'm having the worst time of my life here. Humor is what keeps me going, besides Mary May's hidden stash… and well, my anger."

11. "You have the hots for [John], and me… I want to turn him into a human creme bruleee. Two types of people, Gray."

12. "[John]'s been calling me daily, I'm leaving him some friendly notes in return. The start of a beautiful friendship."

13. "Hope you don't mind sitting in the back. Zorro loves riding shotgun."

14. "Go meet your God, tell Him I will send Joseph soon, too."

15. "You're in a bar in Montana.", Mary May rolled her eyes and set a new empty glass in front of [Sébastien], "Closest you'd get to me making you tea, even at lunch is serving you lukewarm water with some of my spit in it. Organic. So count yourself lucky." Calahan leaned in, whispering loudly, "Also known as blatant disrespect. Which I would advise against. Though, I'd take her spitting in my drink anyday."

Tagging, @socially-awkward-skeleton @strangefable @strafethesesinners @purplehairsecretlair @finding-comfort-in-rain @dumbassdep @josephslittledeputy @marivenah @josephseedismyfather @trench-rot @simonxriley @wrathfulrook @shellibisshe @gearvmac @amalkavian @cassietrn @carlosoliveiraa @simplegenius042 @onehornedbeast @theelderhazelnut @katsigian and anyone that would like to do the tag <3

#so many gems in one <3 #and ofc more gifs to set the atmosphere <3 #tagged <3 #oc: sabrina donovan #oc: calahan hartley #john x sabrina #wip: in hope of tomorrow #wip: a trial of errors #tag games #15 lines of dialogue tag #ocs #fc5 deputy #fc5 ocs #far cry 5 deputy #far cry 5 oc #mygifs #wip snippet #character reference #character dialogue

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strangefable · 1 year

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5, 7, 11, 14, 19, 20, 22 and 23 for FC5! Give us the salt 👀

5. Has fandom ever ruined a pairing for you?*

hmm, no, but that's mostly because I don't read much beyond my mutual circle in far cry. however, some mutuals have shone some new light on certain things. Shipping with non-Seeds as a viable option (I know that sounds stupid but I blame John for taking a vice grip on my throat from the first time I played) and uh... shipping with Joe as something that's not completely vile. (i'm sorry, please don't hate me Joe lovers)

7. Is there anything you used to like but can’t stand now?*

Erm. New Dawn gave me complicated feelings about Sharky? Some of his ND dialogue is... uh... questionable for a guy who's now in his 50s. Honestly, even that's a stretch. For the most part, participating in the fandom has only widened my appreciation for the game and its characters.

11. Is there an unpopular character you like that the fandom doesn’t? Why?

Faith Seed, Grace Armstrong, Tracey Lader, Kim Rye, and Staci Pratt - fandom seems to throw them all under the bus or ignore them.

Faith seems to get killed off or pushed aside way too much. I think she's as interesting a villain as her 'brothers' and deserves to be seen as more of a threat. She's extremely dangerous and unrepentant about drugging a ton of people against their will until they're entirely lobotomized. I mean, that's some HARDCORE evil.

Grace, Tracey, and Kim... Well, they get ignored and I can take a wild guess at why. It's incredibly unfair because I think they're some of the most interesting Resistance characters.

For a game that's weak on how it treats women, there's several quality female characters that get totally ignored. (Joey, too, but because of one friend's ship, I get a lot of amazing writing for her.)

And Staci... well, that's Skelly's fault.

14. Unpopular opinion about your fandom?

Uhm, I'm not sure tbh. Maybe that I would be cool with not having the Drubman family around? Their quests and characters are... not my favorites.

Also, John's plane jacket is fucking stylish and awesome. Everyone is just jealous.

19. What is the one thing you hate most about your fandom?

that i am so late to the party? that there are so many talented people and I'm intimidated all the time? i... dunno that I actually *hate* anything? But again, I came really late, so I've not been around for any drama or anything.

20. What is the purest ship in the fandom?

Aw, bro, this fandom doesn't really do "pure" lmao. Hope County is a bleak, harsh hellscape. Buuuut, canon ships, I'd say Nick and Kim. (I am a Rye stan, sorry to everyone.) And fanon? 👀 Leah and Joey 👉👈

22. Popular character you hate?

🏃‍♀️💨 Oh geeeeeez, i'm gonna get in trouble for this one. Joseph Seed

23. Unpopular character you love?

I mean see #11 above. All of those definitely qualify. I love them all so much. I'm shoe-horning a bunch of lore and backstory into Lilith so I can play with some of them more. I also love Nick. Which is why he's in Micah's backstory.

#salty asks #fable rants and rambles #fable answers #thank you for asking! <3 #please don't anyone hate me for any of this #i love and respect you all and your opinions #my dislike of joe particularly #please don't hate me for that

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fandom-geek · 1 year

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so i’m just looking through the dialogue compilation from the files for fc5, and listen - i knew the whole “hudson and pratt were cut companions”, but this line from hudson is fucking hilarious

Fucking President could send in the army to help us instead he's probably on social media.

guess who that’s about, lol

#far cry #far cry 5 #fc5 #joey hudson

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musings-of-a-lovesick-fool · 1 year

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2, 5, 7, 9, 13, 14 for the writing asks!!

Thank you for sending these in liz !! 🥺 I'm not gonna focus on just one fic for these bc i'm a mess and most of my stuff is WIP's anyway but yeah ajsjshsjshs

Do you have any easter eggs in your fic?

I've been trying to add in easter eggs into my multi chapter fics lately!! Currently in The Snake Followed Me Home From Georgia I've been playing around with names for things that could be easter eggs for Hope County. Like I might have John's law firm be called Holland Law (not sure if that's too obvious and on the nose tho so i'm marinating on it). I am tossing some ideas for other easter eggs but i'm not sold on them yet so I won't say anything ahsjsnsns

What's a piece of lore you haven't shown in your fic or don't think you'll be able to add in?

I haven't shown a Lot (But admittedly I also haven't written a Lot) but I think some OC's backstories may not properly make it to the light of day in most of my fics. Unless I start seperate fics for all of my OC's their childhoods and lives up until the current story events will only be known outside of the fic when I talk about them or in very small snippets of dialogue.

I also haven't gotten to it yet in any of my fics but Marvin (Joseph's right hand man peggie who is basically the compound house husband but in a platonic way) has history with Dean and that history is that Dean was close friends with Marvin's late wife back in the day (and therefore Marvin) and !! This will hopefully come into play during at least my main fc5 fic when Dean is taking over an outpost and stops Jess from killing him! (Common Dean L not letting Jess murder and maim like she deserves 🙄)

What character do you enjoy writing most? Why?

Out of canon characters I really love writing Sharky, as a dumb lil guy myself I find him easy to write and he's just a lovable goofball who sparks joy!!

John is a close second even though i'm insecure about how I portray him sometimes, we all make fun of him but I adore his character and getting into his head is a nice challenge.

Honorable mentions would have to be Deadpool and Alvin Murphy from Z Nation, again they fall into characters I just find come natural to me when I write!

Out of my OC's I feel it's very obvious I love writing Dean, he's just My Blorbo you know? I can toss him around in any context and be happy and confident in how i've written him BUT. MOST IMPORTANTLY. I love his kids and writing him with his kids is pure serotonin and if I could only focus on one fic for the rest of my life i'd choose Second Chances hands down.

What is your favourite line/interaction in your fic?

OH GOD OKAY. So there are a lot but I have a scene in chapter one of my fic Blue (mediaeval au my beloved) where Dean and Sharky have a lil reunion after not seeing each other for a while and Dean had carried a boar he caught to Sharky's hut effortlessly and when Sharky tries to lift it he Struggles. (And then freaks Dean out with his carelessnes with a knife) It's just two of my fave idiots interacting and the whole scene (and chapter tbh as it focuses on them and Hurk) brings me joy even if the writing is old !!

Sharky giggles, nudging them with his shoulder as he passes them and attempts to pick up their sack. His giggles are cut short as he grunts at the effort, sack dropping back onto the dirt as quickly as he had lifted it but a centimeter from the ground. Dean's laughter doubles, sides shaking as Sharky's brows furrow and his head whips around to look at them in disbelief.

"How far 'd ya carry this?!" He asks, struggling to drag the sack towards the campfire as Dean holds themself up with their hands on their knees. They shake their head wordlessly, fighting to mute their laughter only to erupt into small giggles as they calm themself down.

"Only a mile i think, and a bit." Dean says through small giggles, straightening their stance and appreciating the newfound warmth spreading through their cold and heavy limbs.

Sharky guffaws at their casual tone, obviously impressed by their ability to carry the heavy sack that far and not have their arms fall off. He mutters something about witchcraft as Dean sits back down on the log, removing the many straps and weapons on their being and placing them on the ground beside their bow. They watch their friend with an amused gaze as he pulls the wild boar from the sack. He looks down right annoyed and they hear him mutter; "Small my ass—" before he stands and walks back to his hut.

"How've ya been anyway? James didn't say much last time he was here, just that ya were working on a new uh, thing." Sharky returns with one of his larger knives, swinging it as he makes a vague gesture with his hand. Dean watches his hand carefully, knowing full well he was capable of cutting a finger off if he wasn't paying attention.

"I've been fine—busy—designing a new freeze, the one we've got's starting to crack and the meat's thawing too fast." They reply, keeping an eye on Sharky's hands as he begins to skin the boar less then precisely.

"And you?" Dean asks, trying not to wince every time they saw the knife flick upwards jerkily.

Is there a transition in your fic you're proud of?

I'm actually horrendous at transitions, i'm the writer that goes "After a while they got to the where they were going," or puts a text divider if I really need a big time skip. I'd like to test out more artistic ways to transition but that'll have to wait </3 So anyway to answer the question not as of yet no.

What is your favourite relationship featured in your fic aside from the main couple (if you have one)?

Okay so in every fc5 fic I write Dean, Sharky and Hurk's friendship is like. My favourite thing to write ever. They are the goofiest dumbasses on the planet and Dean loses what little braincells he has left when he's with them. They are the ride or die gang in almost every au and I just love them your honor. (Also goes without saying Dean and the kids ! Good dad and epic kids dynamic my beloved)

And also Nick and Kim will forever be my fave canon couple and I love when I get to write them in a fic <3

#Talking Tag #sharkyboshaw

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