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inafieldofdaisies · 10 months

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Ship Art | John Seed x Sabrina Donovan | sketch by @felrija ❤️ || a scene from my WIP In Hope Of Tomorrow, snippet below the cut

"I won't lie, I was planning on killing you." "And yet you didn't. Why?" "A change of circumstances."

It felt like at least 2 hours had passed before the door opened again. Sabrina kept her eyes casted downward as a pair of boots came into view, crossing over the threshold, their owner humming a familiar tune. I know this melody. It was the song she sang in the cell. He was there, listening. The realization made her look up, her hazel eyes met John's as he neared, stepping into the light that spilled from the chandelier above. He was wearing jeans, a blue dress shirt with his sleeves rolled up and way too many buttons undone, on top of it was a vest that belonged more in a courtroom than in a bunker in the Middle of nowhere, Montana. "Kept you waiting, didn't I, Deputy?" A dark smirk marred his handsome face, his posture exuding confidence, like he was about to slip into an opening statement any moment. Only in this room he had full reign, assuming the role of judge, jury and executioner. "Probably should consider serving some tea, maybe redecorating your dungeon. Red's a bit on the nose, don't you think? And I wouldn't rate your goon very highly on any scale either." The comment made him chuckle, and she tried to ignore how familiar it sounded, how it pulled on her soul. "Now, I'm not usually late, but someone decided to attempt to derail my Cleansing.", at that he unconsciously went to smooth out his dark hair, making Sabrina realize it's damp. Sabrina narrowed her eyes, the corners of her mouth twitching, "Did someone try to drown you, Seed?" Don't laugh again. And he didn't, sending a smirk her way instead. "Now, Deputy, enough jokes, there are more pressing matters.", his head tilted slightly, his expression almost... giddy. "What's a joke is you thinking holding a Deputy hostage is a good idea, you of all people should know it's far from it. Aren't you supposed to be a hotshot lawyer?", she couldn't stop her sneer. "Deputy-" Sabrina cut him off, "I have a name." "Yes. Sabrina Blythe Donovan.", he said it matter-of-factly, but Sabrina could tell he took pride in that knowledge. It didn't shock her he knew her full name, with Nancy being on Eden's Gate side no doubt information about the whole Sheriff's Department was leaking like a sieve. A dry laugh escaped her, "Next you're going to tell me the name of my first boyfriend." John crossed his arms, raising an eyebrow, "Knowledge is power after all. And, Sabrina, you wouldn't be here if you didn't try to arrest my brother. You all had choice and it led to this." She pushed down the feeling at how familiar her name sounded on his lips, the twinge of longing it caused in her was nothing. It had to be.

"There was an arrest warrant. I was just doing my job. Your brother is a criminal, and now so are you and all of your people." "I'm doing MY job, Deputy. You're a sinner and so are your friends.", he retorted, his words full of conviction as he headed for his torture table. Sabrina froze, expecting him to notice a knife was missing, when he said nothing, she continued, "Why am I here?" The words came out sharper than intended, carrying the tone she used when interrogating suspects back in Portland, the one that got her straight answers and stripped away all the nonsense. John turned, a look of amusement flashing across his face as he leaned against the table, legs crossed at the ankles. "I should be the one asking questions here, Deputy." "Old habits die hard, I was a-" "A detective back in", a dramatic pause, he raised a finger, "Portland. And you left it all behind to work for Whitehorse. Can't wait for you to tell me why." "I'm not telling you shit. I don't know what you think you're doing-" John stalked towards her with swiftness that took her aback as he grabbed the armrests of her chair, the force behind his movement making the wheels skid across the floor. His face had grown serious, piercing blue eyes boring into hers as he loomed over her. "You will talk, confess every sin, no matter how small. I know exactly what I’m doing here."

Their proximity sent a shiver up her spine and she tried to tell herself it was the bad kind. He was so close to a point Sabrina could smell the musky scent of river that clung to his skin. He had indeed taken a dive, her amusement at the confirmation died down quickly. His nearness, the position of his hands as he held onto the chair allowed her to see his tattoos in detail for the first time. In seconds her whole world came crashing down, her blood froze. No. She knew these tattoos, had seen them countless times in her visions, had drawn them over and over to the point they were embedded in her memory. NO. The hand holding hers as the world ended. The man that called her "Butterfly". It was John. John fucking Seed. His voice snapped her out of her thoughts, "Hm. A butterfly." He was looking at her tattoo, at one of the butterflies that wasn't hidden by the strap of her top. As if she needed any more reminders of the tragic realization she had just came to, John said the damned word again as he backed away, "Why a butterfly, Deputy?" He was back to being nonchalant, like the outburst hadn't even happened. All she could do was blink, wishing her eyes were lying to her.

"You still with me, Sabrina?", it had finally hit him she wasn't replying, that she wasn't talking back. Breathe. Focus. Snap out of it. "Wish I wasn't, won't lie.", she tried to hold onto her composure. Silence took over as John went back to his table, picking up a tool, looking it over then placing it down with care and grabbing another one, repeating the process. It felt mechanical, like a show. Her own knife felt heavy in her hands, the tip prickling her skin, a wake-up call. She knew what she had to do in order to get back to Savannah, imagined it in the hours he made her wait on him. Plunging the blade deep, ending a life. But doubt was creeping in... Her plan, the dark path she planned to take, there was a chance she would fail, she had seen him alive too many times. And her most recent vision... from the sounds of that one he was breathing and pissed off. John spoke up again, his attention still on the table in front of him, "My brother's church. Let's start there. You saw something." It wasn't a question, he sounded sure of it. She hadn't been able to hide her distress, even tried to stop the arrest. A new path became visible. A plan with a giant leap of faith. Probably the most dumb and risky decision she has ever made in her life. He wanted answers, and she was going to play along. For now. "I will tell you what I saw, but I doubt you'd believe it, they never do." Another smirk, making her feel nauseous. "Try me, Deputy." "I saw the crash. Before it happened, I mean." "A vision.", he nodded mostly to himself, "Joseph has them." "You believe then?" "They're from God. Of course I believe him." John believed Joseph, not her. She was used to people's scepticism, but she had a way to prove it this time. "There's more, John." Something flashed across his face at her saying his name outloud for the very first time, but the mask was back in place too quickly for her to figure out what. Focus. Her mother was good at selling any con, always knew how to approach a person, what they'd want to hear, which buttons to push.

"Say his name. Look him in the eyes and sell the idea, make him think it's his own, darling. There's always an offer a man won't be able to refuse, one he'd throw himself in the deep end for, willingly. And when he's about to sink, you offer a hand, pledge your loyalty. He'd be a goner before you know it."

A part of Candice lived in Sabrina, and for once she let it take over.

"I will tell you what's coming, but I will need something in return.", her voice sounded unshakeable, certain, the exact opposite of how she felt inside. John didn't break her eye contact, nor interrupted her. Sabrina got up from the chair, discarding the ropes as her hands dropped to her sides. "You've been untied this whole time, Deputy?", his eyes shone with amusement again. She took a few steps until she stood almost in front of him, her hand holding out her knife. Surrendering her weapon. "And you had a knife?" When he made no move to take it, Sabrina placed the blade on his "work" bench and walked back, sitting down in the chair and rubbing her wrists. "I won't lie, I was planning on killing you." "And yet you didn't. Why?" "A change of circumstances."

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lulu2992 · 6 months

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Another “old” drawing!

John has something very important to say, something he hasn’t told anyone in years (or maybe ever; he can’t remember). It’s a short, simple sentence, but also a surprisingly hard one to say, so before Taylor actually hears it, he wants to practice...

Full story and context under the cut :)

So, basically, at this point in Taylor’s story, life is hard.

Because of the truce that was negotiated between Eden’s Gate and the Resistance, Hope County is now living in relative peace, at least for the moment. But for the Deputy who made it possible, that peace comes at a heavy cost.

The same people who used to sing her praises and count on her to make things better now (understandably) feel betrayed, hurt, and are angry at her for sparing John, so they either awkwardly avoid her and talk behind her back, or are openly aggressive and contemptuous. Some shame her for “using her body to buy peace”, even though that’s not quite true (they aren’t there yet in their relationship, and the cult has rules anyway).

And despite the fact that, because of the circumstances, she’s now closer to Eden’s Gate than she is to the Resistance, not all cultists trust her. Of course, they listen to Joseph, who said he had faith in Taylor, but some still (also understandably) remain cautious and are worried for their Herald in the Holland Valley. Is it safe to welcome the Deputy or does that heathen have ulterior motives? What if she’s only trying to use and pervert John so she can more easily destroy him and the Project?

For peace, the Junior Deputy had to sacrifice her reputation, has lost many of her friends, and now feels judged by almost everyone in Hope County, even some of those who still tolerate her. So yeah, life is hard.

But paradoxically, the more upset people are at her for growing closer to John, the harder their hatred pushes her into his arms. Soon, the Baptist becomes one of the few people she really trusts and feels allowed to be vulnerable around.

That afternoon, after a particularly difficult moment in Fall’s End, she drove to Seed Ranch, resolutely walked through the front door without saying a word, barely acknowledging the few cultists on her way, went straight to John… and burst into tears the moment she put her arms around him. After the initial surprise, he signaled to the confused guards that everything was okay, that they could leave the room, and just hugged her back in silence.

“Everyone hates me,” she said when her sobbing quieted down and she was finally able to speak.

“No… No, not everyone,” he replied. “There are... There are people who love you. You know that, don’t you?”

She loosened her embrace to look at him.

“That’s why you came here, right?” he asked, smiling tenderly.

She smiled back, but soon she noticed he seemed… uncomfortable. Powerless, even; unsure of what to say and how to deal with the situation. Suddenly, she felt guilty... She had come here because she needed a shoulder to cry on, but she hadn’t realized her sadness would affect him too.

“Sorry,” she said, shaking her head. “I shouldn’t have come here and burdened you with that. I just- You probably have things to do, I should go...”

“No, wait!” he quickly responded, his hands tightening around her waist. “You can stay, it’s fine.”

She looked at him again, and he nodded before adding, “It’s fine. Really.”

She knew he wasn’t just offering her to spend the rest of the day at the ranch; he wanted her to, so she happily accepted.

That night, she fell asleep where she truly felt home: in John’s arms. Unbeknownst to her, for the first time, he told her something he knew he was ready to tell her, but not quite for her to hear yet; not before he was certain he could do it properly.

As she was peacefully sleeping, he whispered, “I love you.”

#my deputy #taylor rook #the deputy #john seed #john seed x deputy #my art #fan art #traditional art #digital coloring #drawn in december 2022 #only one ‘old’ drawing left!#but wait... am I writing... fanfiction now??#the incredible adventures of john 'emotionally constipated perfectionist' seed #also considering what the fandom is reportedly dealing with these days... yay I can’t wait for this to be copy-pasted!#far cry 5 #story: 'that fic I’ll never write'

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vanityeden · 1 year

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Bad dog appreciation post

#I wanna befriend them simply to piss Jacob off #it’s my favorite ff trope #far cry 5 #jacob seed #the judges #wolves #video game photography #virtual photography #video game characters #far cry five #video games #edens gate

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spicysix · 10 months

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anywhere u go

Argyle had no idea the living nightmare he was getting himself into when he first decided to follow Jonathan Byers. Well, he'd do it again in a heartbeat anyway.

rating: T

warnings: this fic includes weed, the teeniest hint of ptsd, questionable informations about the united states' AND the canadian's geography from a brazilian writer (so, probably, mistakes. look past them pls), also questionable english by a brazilian writer not beta-read, weather as a metaphor, and subtle pining.

word count: 5.6k

author's note: title from the song of the same name by Tove Lo. written for Lex's Spicy Six Summer Fanwork Challenge, for the dialogue prompt “I’m really glad we did this”. thanks for hosting this amazing event @thefreakandthehair ♡

↳ read on ao3

If someone asked him, Argyle wasn’t sure he’d be able to retell the whole thing.

And, sure, maybe you could blame the weed a little bit. He might have partaken in it a few times here or there during the whole thing. It was right there in the van! How could he say no? Not at any of the big moments, though, of course not. He’s a stoner, not an idiot. He only smoked twice on the road when Jonathan was the one driving, that hotbox he did with Eden, beautiful goth goddess of his dreams, and once to prepare the pizza during the whole freezer piggyback thing (he likes being high when working in the kitchen okay, don’t go away judging). When they got to Hawkins, he only collected mushrooms, didn’t do them. He didn’t even have the time.

It wasn’t any kind of substance that made the next few weeks go by hazily.

It was just too much.

Chaos was installed when they arrived in Hawkins. Earthquakes had ripped open wounds into the soil of the small town — living, squeamish, bleeding wounds. Argyle learned later they were portals to the dimension under their own, where all the problems surrounding his friend’s family came from in the first place.

People were missing and hurt, some even died with the way the gates tore through houses and buildings, and the mood around Hawkins as they drove through it was rightfully sour.

Jonathan drove to his girlfriend’s house, some other people were already there and it was a beautiful reunion, it really was, but Argyle felt out of place. They parted ways after, and the ones that had been there already headed to the High School to drop some donations — except for Nancy, who went inside the van and into the passenger seat as if she owned it.

It had been Argyle’s.

But it was okay, he stayed in the back with the kiddos.

They went to the hospital, one of them — the one Supergirl had mentally piggybacked on — was hurt and in a coma. Argyle waited in the van as the rest of them went in to see her — he didn’t know her, didn’t want to invade their space.

After the visit they headed to an old cabin in the woods, abandoned, destroyed, pieces of its ceiling missing. Jonathan said Supergirl used to live there with her dad, the dead cop, and while they all reconnected and cleaned up the place, Argyle found those mushrooms that he didn’t use.

Didn’t even have the time to, because suddenly it was snowing ashes and he found his friend and his friend’s family — including his mom and a tall skinny bald guy, where did they come from? — looking over the city from the hill and the open field, and the flowers were dead and there was smoke coming from the place where all the portals met downtown.

Too much happening at the same time, and suddenly Jonathan was grabbing Argyle’s wrist and pulling him back to the van, “let’s go get the others, oh and by the way the tall skinny bald guy is the dead cop, oh and by the way my mom went to the Soviet Union to rescue him, oh and by the way the world is ending.”

So they went back to the hospital, to warn the siblings that were keeping watch over the comatose redhead, but they didn’t wanna join them back. Told Jonathan to reach through the walkies if he needed them.

So they went to the school, found the pretty guy and the cute girl that looked and acted like siblings plus the small curly one, pretty guy told them all they could go to his house cause it was big and clean and empty and they could use it as headquarters. Nancy shivered at the suggestion, her jaw tensed and Jonathan looked at her with caution, but they all agreed anyway.

So they went to pretty guy’s house, it really was big and clean and empty — all sadly so. The ones coming from California took their much needed showers, un-dead cop called a friend of his and told him to come meet them, the kids reached out to the siblings in the hospital to let them know where they all were.

It was too much.

Argyle set the water of his shower to the coldest temperature he could bare to try and shock some sense into himself. Looked at his reflection in the mirror and if it wasn’t him, he wouldn’t know all the shit that guy went through that last week. Government agents dying in his work van that he ended up stealing, a superpowered girl he helped rescue, an evil dimension with an evil wizard, people in comas and people coming back from the dead, gates to the underworld burning through a small town — and how he got roped into all of that by following a friend across the country.

He’d say he was a pretty good friend at that point.

He waited in the living room with the others as everyone went through rotations of showers, and cute girl made him a sandwich and it was nice of her, Little Byers sat by his side cause he was one of the only people who knew Argyle, and it was nice of him. When Jonathan arrived all cleaned up and smelling soapy, he sat by Argyle’s other side and Argyle felt himself relax if only a little.

They waited until un-dead cop’s friend showed up, and for some reason he showed up with two other Russian guys and a government lady and oh boy was Argyle even more confused.

Everyone took their turns retelling their own stories and gluing all the pieces together, and it was a somber story, it was bad as a horror movie and Argyle kind of wanted to throw himself out the window and get in the first bus back to California but he had no one there and in here he at least had the Byers. They were a good family, the closest to one Argyle had. So he stuck around through the puzzle.

Once in a while they referenced something that had happened in the years before and Argyle didn’t get the references because he hadn’t been there but he was sure Jonathan could fill him in later. Or he wouldn’t, and Argyle wouldn’t mind that either because it would at least save him from nightmares.

There had been losses, some friend of theirs in Hawkins — small curly one seemed to be the most affected by it, and Supergirl’s boyfriend was also really upset when he learned the news. Besides him, other three teenagers were victims of the evil wizard, plus their friend who survived but was in a coma.

On their side, a doctor dead and a doctor missing — apparently captured by the side of the government that was trying to kill Supergirl, that government lady said. Not her side trying to kill Supergirl. Another side. But apparently the doctors could help and it was relevant to know about their situation. The parents didn’t seem to agree a lot, and neither did Supergirl.

Un-dead cop’s friend made a joke about how at least on their side only bad commies had died, but the joke didn’t land. They weren’t in a nice mood for jokes.

It was too much, everyone talking about terrible things happening and talking over each other and Argyle’s head was about to explode in pain so at some point when they were all going through the timeline for the third time, he escaped and headed outside through the front door.

Jonathan found him after a couple of minutes.

“Is this too much?” he asked, and Argyle nodded. “I’m sorry. Wish we could smoke right now,” he said.

Argyle hummed, “It’s gonna look real unprofessional of us if we do, though, right?”

“It really will.” Jonathan chuckled, but it was dry and humorless.

They just stood there in silence for a few minutes, and Argyle’s fingers were trembling a little and maybe it was abstinence, probably was, but the clouds were fucking red and the smoke still made ashes rain down and it was terrifying.

“We should go inside,” Jonathan said after a while.

Argyle sighed and followed him in.

Over the next week they all hung out almost exclusively in pretty boy’s house (pretty boy’s name was Steve, Argyle learned. He dated Nancy before Jonathan did. They had a weird thing going on) and planned for the next step they’d take into, hopefully for the last time, saving the world. Well, it was Argyle’s first, but it still counted right. The kids called their parents and they all seemed to trust the old teens to be good babysitters even during the apocalypse, plus Ms. Byers and the un-dead cop were of course to be trusted.

Argyle was mostly tuned out of everything, but that was okay, firstly because he was the last one to join the mess and didn’t know the details as well as the rest of them, and it wasn’t a good use of their time to explain it to Argyle time and time again when they could be plotting strategies. So Argyle took over pretty boy Steve’s kitchen and kept his battalion fed and strong for battle.

The other reason he kept tuned out was, of course, so he wouldn’t freak the fuck out.

Keeping himself entertained with cooking — and, not going to lie, a little weed here and there when they found it — was the only thing still keeping him from that original plan of throwing himself out the window and catching the first bus back to California.

Sometimes the rest of the Party — as they called themselves, what a weird bunch — would help or at least keep him company. Un-dead cop’s friend (un-dead cop was Hopper, friend was Murray) was a great cook as Argyle already knew from that risotto, but he was also really weird and gave Argyle the creeps. Ms. Byers kept telling him to call her Joyce, tried her best in the kitchen and her food wasn’t bad, but it also wasn’t good. He liked talking to her, though. Cute girl — pretty boy Steve’s platonic soulmate, Robin — was real funny and a delight to talk to, but a fire hazard personified and not allowed near the stove. Steve could bake some mean breakfast and he was also really cool, Argyle didn’t know why Jonathan was so adamant about keeping a grudge.

“You’d like Eddie, he was a dealer,” Steve said one night as they sat in the backyard staring at the pool and smoking what was left of Argyle’s purple palm tree delight. “And he for sure would like you, and this.” Steve waved the joint around before handing it back to Argyle. Steve’s smile was sad, and Argyle hadn’t known the guy so he didn’t know how to feel or what to say. So they just kept smoking.

Nancy was how Argyle found out about the whole story between her, Jonathan and Steve — and Argyle understood partly why Jonathan held a grudge. Steve was a nice guy now though, Nancy said and Argyle knew it was true because they talked and smoked a lot late at nights, but it wasn’t his place to tell Jonathan how to feel about his girlfriend’s ex who called him slurs, physically fought him and then saved his life more than once. It was a tough spot, alright.

The kids were something else. He barely saw the siblings — Lucas Erica, the ones at comatose redhead’s, Max, bedside. They were, all three of them, constantly brought up, though, and it almost made it seem like they were there all the time. The small curly one, Dustin, seemed to think he was touched by god’s wisdom at all times, and it could be funny but it could also be a little annoying. He was pretty Steve’s favorite, though. That was interesting. Little Byers (Will) and Mike — Supergirl’s now ex-boyfriend — had something going on but Argyle wasn’t sure if he wanted to know what. Jonathan went grumpy anytime they were together, and his older brother protective act was amusing.

Supergirl — Jane, El — was Argyle’s favorite though, and there was no competition there. She was weird and tiny and badass and adorable and a huge menace, not only in the way that she could literally blow things up with her mind, but because she could be a little troublemaker kid in the best way a kid should be a troublemaker in. She was sweet and delicate and just so fucking little, and her shoulders were too tiny to hold all the weight they carried, so Argyle did his best to bake her the frozen waffles she loved, told her funny exaggerated stories so she’d laugh, gave her tight hugs whenever she needed them. It was sad that she needed them a lot. But she always thanked him and told him his hugs were the best hugs ever, so he’d hug her once again before letting her go. He liked that she smiled a lot near him. The world owed her more smiles, and he was glad to take that task.

Jonathan did his best to make Argyle feel like he was part of it all. Argyle wasn’t so sure if he even wanted to be a part of it all in the first place, but since he was dragged to it without any other option, he was glad he at least had Jonathan by his side. He chose to pair up with Argyle when they were assigned guest bedrooms in Steve’s big house so Argyle wouldn’t be alone, even if he could be with Nancy. He never scolded Argyle for smoking because he knew Argyle did it to cope, to calm down, to get less stressed and anxious — and he knew the situation was stressing and anxiety-inducing as hell. He never complained if Argyle didn’t participate in their planning sessions because he knew Argyle’s lack of previous knowledge would probably just slow them down, and once during the night he said he’d do anything to leave Argyle as out of it as he could, that he felt guilty for bringing Argyle into all of it in the first place.

Argyle blamed him, it really was kind of Jonathan’s fault, but he also forgave him.

He forgave him the second after it all happened.

He would probably follow Jonathan anyway even if he knew beforehand where he was headed to.

He followed Jonathan into the final battle against that slimy, evil, twisted, disgusting son of a bitch. He followed Jonathan with homemade armor and homemade weapons, and a courage he didn’t really have. He followed Jonathan, El, Will, and Joyce — and all the rest of their weird, codependent, brought together by disasters, wrecked and beautiful found family. He was stuck with them now forever, he knew it. He wasn’t complaining. They were his family now, too.

But that specific day, that was the one that was the most blurred out. Maybe it was a coping mechanism that his fucked up brain came up with to give him a rest, or maybe it was his brain too fucked up from all the weed usage, but he was glad either way. If someone asked him, Argyle was sure he wouldn’t be able to retell the whole thing.

It was way too much. He was glad he didn’t remember.

They were all alive and sore and bruised and hurt after it, and they all still stayed in Steve’s big house — to make sure they were all together if it wasn’t really over, and because they healed better as a pack. The government lady had found her lost doctor sometime in the middle of it all, and the whole Party got some good deals out of everything. Argyle wasn’t even going to be sued by Surfer Boy Pizza for stealing a company van. He actually got to keep it, and he took out the surfboard from the roof, took out all the company stickers, cleaned it up real good and it ended up looking like a regular beautiful yellow van where no man had ever died inside.

El seemed to have lost her powers for good this time, but she was relieved. Will was never haunted by the creepy chills in the back of his neck again. Max woke up, and she was blind and would probably never walk again, but she was so grateful. Argyle cooked her favorite food — information provided by El — when she was released from the hospital, and of course she was led straight to Steve’s house. She didn’t know Argyle before the apocalypse almost took her away, but she thanked him with a beautiful crooked smile of a girl who defeated death, and everyone surrounded her with love and warmth and everything was almost perfect. They were acting like the kids they were. They were allowed to, now. The only thing they’d have to worry about from now on was school and homework, the occasional regular teenage problems. No more evil scientists, no more evil wizards, no more evil dimensions. Just, a bad grade in Latin, or having an unrequited crush, a pimple in the middle of their foreheads. Argyle was so happy for them.

Jonathan and the rest of the older ones also got to go back to normal. Steve and Robin’s only worry was finding a new job. Nancy and Jonathan finally talked it out and resolved their issues — by breaking up. Nancy would go to Emerson, Boston, as she wished, and Jonathan didn’t want to and it was fine. They had grown too much, apart from each other in the few months they were away. They didn’t need to be each other’s grounding points anymore, because they could find other people and find themselves and worry about regular young adult stuff like a bad grade in Journalism 101 or the fact they were out of weed or photographic film.

Jonathan wanted to go to New York.

Argyle could get on the first bus back to California, but he had no one there and that was okay, because here he had Jonathan. Jonathan, who Argyle crossed the country for, who Argyle walked into Hell for, who Argyle would probably follow anywhere.

So Jonathan decided to go to New York, and Argyle decided to follow him.

They took the renewed regular yellow van where no man had ever died, belts buckled in for the first time ever because they valued their lives a whole lot now. They took an atlas from Robin’s collection, a few pre-rolled joints Steve bought from god knows who, a bunch of snacks the kids gathered for them, clothes they borrowed because they ran away from California with no bags, and a tight hug from each and every one of their weird, codependent, brought together by disasters, wrecked and beautiful found family.

They took the I-69 to Indy, the I-70 to Pittsburgh, the I-76 to Philadelphia, and the I-95 to New York. Twenty hours on the road was nothing considering it took them three days to get from middle-of-bumfuck-nowhere (Nevada) to middle-of-bumfuck-nowhere (Indiana). They took turns driving, stopped for gas and lunch and dinner and a smoke session, slept in the back of the van in a parking lot until they weren’t high anymore, arrived in New York as the sky was pouring down on the city.

“The rain is nice,” Jonathan commented as he looked through the window in the passenger seat.

It hadn’t rained in Hawkins ever since the world almost ended. No matter how many times they showered, bathed, scrubbed all the grime and dirt and blood away, sometimes it still felt like they weren’t clean. The town was definitely still dirty.

“The rain is nice,” Argyle agreed.

They kept driving around, they got trapped in traffic, they got screamed and horned at, they laughed back because it felt nonsensical to be mad about cars in streets. They stopped at a diner, ate a bunch of eggs sunny side up, to counter the weather, watched the regulars and the waitresses and the cook in their routines, and they smiled at each other because it was so nice to see normal things for once. People living their normal lives. Not a single one of them aware that the two weird kids in the corner booth almost died so they could be spilling coffee on the counter and getting their mouths dirty with grease.

They asked for a cheap recommendation on a place they could rest, drove a little more, got a little more trapped in traffic, got a little more yelled and horned at, until they found the shitty motel that the waitress promised was decently cleaned no matter how fucked up it looked on the outside. But their expectations bar wasn’t high, anyway. They had two beds, separated by a tiny nightstand table, and they fell asleep turned to face each other, curtains open and bathroom lights on because the darkness couldn’t be trusted.

Next day emerged with the clouds all gone, the weirdest of contrasts, and a chilly wind kept throwing Argyle’s hair to all sides and Jonathan kept looking at him with a soft smile whenever it whipped his pale skin. They left the van in the motel and walked and walked and walked until their feet hurt, had no idea where they were going and no exact place to go to, a joint shared and their fingers touched and their mouths wrapped around the same paper. It was nothing, and it was everything.

They watched people passing by, everyone in such a hurry, people scowling and people smiling and people somehow with their expressions completely neutral. People living their normal lives, not a single one of them aware that the two weird kids walking shoulder to shoulder almost died so they could be running to catch the subway or signing for a cab to stop.

They managed to get back to the motel, took their showers, scrubbed scrubbed scrubbed and still felt unclean, collapsed on their separate beds again, turned to face each other, curtains open, bathroom lights left on.

Jonathan wanted to go to NYU.

Ever since he was six years old, he told Argyle. The Tisch Photography program was a big one, his dream ever since he had a bowl cut worst than Will’s, when his father was still home and his mom wasn’t overprotective because none of them knew monsters existed just under their feet.

Jonathan’s eyes gleamed as he spoke about the university, so Argyle offered and Jonathan agreed, and the next day Jonathan hopped on a subway train and Argyle followed him.

The subway was too much, Argyle noticed. He shared a look with Jonathan over someone else’s shoulder and knew they were thinking the same.

They went south south south to Greenwich Village with its pretty brownstones and its artsy students roaming around, so many of them, and Jonathan stopped across the street looking at the Tisch building for a long time, inconveniently in the middle of the sidewalk, his fellow hipsters having to walk around him. Argyle looked at Jonathan the whole time, saw it firsthand as his gears turned, as the gleam in his eyes faded, as the wrinkle in his forehead deepened.

“Too much?” he asked.

Jonathan nodded. “For now, at least.”

Argyle just started walking and Jonathan followed, and they just walked across Greenwich Village until they were at the pier and they looked at New Jersey from afar, all the ferries crossing the Hudson, people still in a hurry all the goddamn time and Argyle’s fingers tapped against the railing that was there to stop him from falling into the water. He kinda wanted to do it just to see what it would feel like. He lost track of time staring at the water, and the boats, and the people on the boats living their normal lives, not a single one of them aware of the two weird kids on the pier that almost died so they could cross the river on a daily basis; and he felt Jonathan staring at him and maybe it should’ve been the other way around.

“Wanna try again?” he asked after, maybe, hours, and Jonathan nodded.

They walked back, Jonathan stopped inconveniently in the middle of the sidewalk across the street, stared at the Tisch building for what wasn’t longer than a minute and a half.

“Too much,” he decided.

They took the subway back north north north to the motel, took their showers, scrubbed scrubbed scrubbed and still felt unclean, collapsed on their separate beds again, curtains open, bathroom lights left on. Jonathan turned away and slept looking at the wall. Argyle slept looking at Jonathan’s back.

Sun was still out bright the next day.

They went out silently for breakfast at a café a few blocks down, heard the weirdest fucking story told by the people sitting at the table next to them. One look at each other and they were back at the motel, into the van, across the bridge, east east east into Long Island and clouds started to appear the more further east they went.

Montauk sure had that creepy energy hanging in the air, as if everyone was constantly waiting for the shoe to drop, but it somehow didn’t feel as world-ending as Hawkins did. Jonathan whispered that if Will was there, he’d probably be scratching his neck by now. They kept heading east, into the State Park, to the lookout, out of the van. Stared at the ocean. All that amount of water, the vast nothingness of the view and the wide greatness it contained, and it should’ve been too much but Argyle let out a long sigh and breathed in deeply, a single drop of rain touched his forehead and it felt good.

They went back to the van, back to Manhattan, back to the motel, took their showers, scrubbed a little less, collapsed on their separate beds, curtains closed, bathroom lights left on, turned to face each other again. They said nothing. There was a constant hum from somewhere outside the motel, in the neighborhood, that lulled them to sleep. Argyle thought he heard Jonathan call for him but when he opened his eyes again Jonathan was snoring lightly. Argyle smiled at the view and fell back to unconsciousness.

Clouds were back the next day.

They checked out of the motel, Jonathan took the seat behind the wheel, headed back to I-95 again and hit the pedal hard. They drove for about half the time as they did from Hawkins to New York, never leaving the I-95, looking through the windows as they drove past New Haven, Providence, Boston, plus some stupidly small and completely forgettable towns in Maine.

They only left the I-95 when they passed the border, when the Highway didn’t exist anymore.

“Will they know we have weed?” Argyle asked as they were growing closer to the customs. They only had a single joint left, but it was worrying anyway.

“Don’t think they’ll check,” Jonathan answered, and he didn’t seem bothered at all.

Argyle doubted they would be able to cross, he didn’t even have a passport, but Jonathan was thankfully right. The guard asked for their drivers’ licenses only, where they were headed and what they were doing — Jonathan said they were on a roadtrip. When the guard asked how long they were planning on staying, Jonathan said “enough days to see a bit of the three east provinces”, and that’s when Argyle was sure the guard would tell them to turn around and get the fuck out, back to bumfuck-nowhere, Indiana. But he just nodded as he inspected the photos on their documents, and when he handed them back along with a pocket-sized canadian atlas he said: “Have fun.”

And that was it.

Argyle’s shoulders dropped from where they had situated above his ears as Jonathan waited until the customs couldn’t be seen from the windows anymore so he could hit the pedal hard again, this time on what they called the Trans-Canada Highway (information provided by the pocket-size atlas gifted to them by a random and kind government employee).

Jonathan drove for about an hour and a half after they crossed, and Argyle’s sudden drop of adrenaline made him doze off for a while before he woke up as Jonathan was parking at a motel. He looked around, saw some signs, picked up the pocket-size atlas from where it had fallen off to the floor of the van.

“You wanna stay in…” he checked the atlas, “Fredericton, New Brunswick? This was your destination all along?” he asked with a grin.

Jonathan chuckled. “I’m just tired for today. But I wanna keep going, actually. If that’s okay?” his eyes were suddenly filled with doubt, and oh no, Argyle couldn’t have that.

“Absolutely, my man. Point where and I’m headed right behind ‘ya,” he was smiling, and his tone was light-hearted, but he was being the most honest he ever was.

Jonathan seemed to get it, because he was looking back at him with that reserved soft smile of his and Argyle’s brain went a little fuzzy, but it was probably from the nap he took.

They went inside the motel, finally, got their bedroom with two beds, separated by nothing but a few inches, and Argyle’s first instinct was to actually bring them together so they’d be just one big bed, but he restrained. They took showers, didn’t really scrub a lot, collapsed on their barely separate beds, curtains closed, bathroom light left off, turned to face each other. Argyle fell asleep with a smile on his face, and if he didn’t dream it, Jonathan had one of his own on his lips.

Next day was more than cloudy, it was pouring rain again.

Jonathan sat behind the steering wheel once more, hit the pedal and they headed east east east, so far east that Argyle feared for a second that they were going to reach the border of the world or something. They crossed New Brunswick and almost reached Nova Scotia, but then Jonathan took a sharp turn north.

“An island, man?” Argyle asked as they crossed the bridge to Prince Edward. Jonathan just shrugged, but he was smiling wider than Argyle had ever seen him smile before. Not bothered at all. It was a good sight to see.

The capital city was on the southeast, but Jonathan kept going north again. It seemed like they were almost at the end of the island before he finally stopped, at some stupidly small and completely forgettable town.

“This place has probably half of the citizens of Hawkins,” Argyle noted.

“I need a phone,” Jonathan said.

His smile didn’t falter.

They found the single Bed & Breakfast the town had to offer, asked for a bedroom — it only had one bed, they didn’t mind and neither did the young lady in charge —, they asked to use their phone, “How much is a phone call to Indiana, you think?” Jonathan asked Argyle, smile turning into a wicked grin and Argyle had definitely never seen that, so the only answer he could come up with was a loud laugh.

Jonathan dialed.

Argyle saw the lady had a bong on her table, so he lit up their final joint.

They waited for the phone to be answered.

Jonathan’s eyes never left Argyle’s, and their wide smiles were like mirrors of each other. Argyle had no idea what Jonathan was up to, clearly no good, but Argyle was down to it anyway. He’d follow Jonathan in whatever disturbed plan he had, to whatever edge of the world he wanted to go to.

And, finally:

“Hop, hey, it’s Jon. I’m in Canada. Yeah, you heard it right, Canada. Do you think Owens’ FBI friends can do us a final favor?”

⟿

Argyle looks out the window.

In the reflex, he sees Jonathan, his head on Argyle’s shoulder, and he’s also looking out the window. It’s been like this for a few months now, just the two of them, in tandem, doing the same things. Synchronized. It feels good, the best he ever felt. Jonathan’s skin is warm against Argyle where their arms touch, and he smiles without even thinking about it. It’s been like this for a few months now, smiling around just at the thought or sight of Jonathan. It feels good. The best he ever felt about someone.

“I’m really glad we did this,” Jonathan mumbles against Argyle’s shoulder.

This: a trip along the coast to a different country? This: bribing the government for a new beginning in a town so small and forgettable that no monster, human or not, could find them again? This: getting a house of their own, a fucking boat and a fishing license, a truck they could drive down to Charlottetown on good days?

This: falling in love in the process?

Argyle’s not sure what Jonathan is referring to. He’s really glad too, either way.

Argyle looks at their small world out the window.

It’s Sunday morning, commerce is all closed, streets are empty. The sun is covered by clouds, a summer thunderstorm approaching, and he can see the sea from here. There’s no one at the beach. The waves look nice. All that amount of water, the vast nothingness of the view and the wide greatness it contains.

It’s not too much. It’s nothing at all, actually, and it’s everything.

And it’s perfect that way.

#jargyle #jonathan byers x argyle #jargyle fanfic #jargyle fic #jargyle oneshot #argyle x jonathan byers #jonathan byers #argyle #stranger things fic #stranger things fanfic #lui writes #lexssummerfanworkschallenge #should've posted this tomorrow on jargyle jursday but oh well. what's done is done

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apollolovescheesecak · 5 months

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we aren’t speaking.

a good omens poem, through aziraphales pov.

my heart cries out for yesteryear, when you first tempted me at the gates of eden.

the aching melancholy and the absence of you both beg the same question. where did all the memories go?

caught in the forefront of my mind, enveloping me with wings of nostalgia, the same wings that sheltered me during that starstorm when i looked into your eyes, overflowing with joy the same way a glass overflows with water.

your eyes, your hips, your way of speaking, all the same yet so unique in the way you presented yourself to me. the very personification of sin itself, yet your body and words were more holy than god herself.

we traveled through the years, always pulled together in an ineffable sort of fashion. the way we followed each other was more faithful than the priest to the temple, each of us both the worshipper and the worshiped. our companionship ran deeper than the eyes you cast to me, as yellow and golden as the love we had.

the extreme of the blacks and whites of our mortality blend into a gray ocean of blurred lines, all good and evil mixed together to create the flaws and strengths of humanity incarnate. light and dark hues exist inside said ocean, but mellow and dulled. through your eyes, true evil and good do not exist, context the only value judging the grayscale, as impossible as it seemed to me at the time.

i see, now, the world is truly a menagerie of color and hue only to be compared to the fruits and fauna of the garden of eden, tragically and forevermore judged by colorblind eyes, our minds so inclined to point out the extremes instead of the subtle.

we never spoke about it, the simple truth of the fact we loved each other was a spirit, invisible and never quite enough proof to others that it existed, but nevertheless still hanging thick in the air.

the vastness of your affection and availability to me, and i to you, was more meaningful than any words alone. our avoidance of our true feelings was both the highest blessing, and the most torturous curse.

i wish i could tell you. i wish i could go back in time to tell you how much i need you, truly and deeply, the other half of me. my light cannot exist without your shadow, my sin cannot exist without your salvation. how i want to kiss you, not in an act of desperation and destruction, hoping it will bring you back to me, but in an act of kindness and mercy, knowing you are already there, willing to spend your last second by my side.

you are my best friend, my lover, a stranger and my enemy all at once. the words our relationship required to be described and understood, are hidden away from me, locked in a book in the tightest safe in my mind.

i’ve already forgiven you. i’ve forgiven most everyone i know. the only person that remains to be forgiven is myself. i can only hope that someday, you may forgive me.

but we aren’t speaking.

inspired by dreams i’ve had with these word in them, and the poems (mostly “do you remember”) of @ineffabildaddy. it’s been a while since i’ve written poetry so i hope you guys like it!

#poetry #trying something new hope y’all like it #good omens #good omens 2 #good omens 3 #kind of based on the “we aren’t speaking” comment #neil gaiman #text #angel #demon #ineffable husbands #ineffable divorce #ineffable lovers #might add more to this

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rolangf · 7 months

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—OCS AND VILLAIN SONGS

hey what’s up you guys welcome back to my channel— i did this post on my old blog ages ago which is unfortunately lost to time now and i wanted to do it again. so this has gotta be like, the third time some of y’all are seeing this but. fuck it we ball.

born from a post made by @unholymilf a loooong time ago that as more or less a question of if ur oc was a boss fight, what song would be playing and it struck me so here is ALL of my brain worms, including some new ones from the last post!

ANDIE— le soleil est près de moi; air.

POV: you’re bleeding out as andie is standing over you, burning white hot, hotter than the sun setting behind her. she is passionate and… reckless, and will swear this was self-defense. even if she struck first. even if she didn’t blink. even as she watches the life leave your body.

BIANCA— tricycle express; gaspard augé, mr. oizo.

POV: bianca is white knuckling her steering wheel, swiping her car against the side of your own for miles down the freeway. she is gonna run you off the road. she absolutely will; it’s unavoidable, and she’s gonna laugh while she’s doing it. this is the song she’s listening to.

CELESTE— vision; m83.

POV: “you will die soon. sooner than you were supposed to, now.” celeste deadpans as she hovers her hand over your forehead and waves. she makes a show of it, though her clairvoyance doesn’t require as much. you wish you had listened to her and thought better of asking in the first place. “it will be violent, and painful. give ares my best. leave my temple.” but you didn’t, and now it’s too late. your fate is sealed.

ELVIRA— old river; orville peck.

POV: you’re stiff, hairs on the back of your neck standing up. you’re being watched. this is a different kind of observation than the one you’re used to— the seeds constantly run surveillance on you, but this doesn’t feel as passive. you’re being hunted. and when you dare to turn on your heels to see elvira standing behind you with a crossbow bolt nocked with your name on it, you almost wish jacob was here to kill you instead. somehow, you know it would be more merciful.

OSLO— pennsylvania furnace; lingua ignota.

POV: oslo isn’t the deputy anymore. they’re the judge. eden’s gate is up a member who is worth a million and the resistance mourns a million more.

FAUSTINA— beyond the horizon; olivier deriviere.

POV: faustina is the last line of defense between you and the mother church. she’s a penitent, too, you must understand. the consecrated red ribbons she’s wrapped in are suffocating her the longer she takes to excommunicate you and she will try every prayer at her disposal to stop it—to stop you.

JEN— krack; soulwax.

POV: jen is chasing you through the fib building after she snitches on your whole operation to the iaa. you are an enemy of the state, but more importantly— you’re an enemy to agent jennifer daniels. she wants you dead, and you will be soon enough. especially if it’s up to her. and as of right now, she has you cornered in an interrogation room with nowhere to go and a gun to your head.

LOTTIE— arsonist’s lullabye; hozier.

POV: hawkins is ablaze, and lottie is at the scene of the crime staring into the flames.

LINDY— señor (tales of yankee power); jerry garcia.

POV: there’s barely anyone left to call a gang, and dutch knows as much. but he won’t admit it— that would require him admitting guilt for the losses, too. and he should be so lucky he’s still breathing; lindy wants to empty an entire revolver clip into his thick skull but knows she wouldn’t live long enough to feel the satisfaction. so she does the next best thing, and turns her back. there isn’t anything left for her, anyway. she would risk a lifetime of looking over her shoulder over having to look at him.

MAGS— change (in the house of flies); deftones.

POV: you’re being experimented on in an umbrella sanctioned lab and in walks mags— who you thought was on your side. after all, well fed devils behave better than famished saints. but not this one, she’s much worse.

MILDRED— god unbounded; uboa.

POV: you have just returned from the dead because some weirdo with a god complex and a proficiency in reanimating corpses decided that she needed the practice. and now that’s your problem, because you definitely have come back Wrong. but you’re back! surprise!

NICOLE— heart in a cage; the strokes.

POV: you’re witness to an absolute bloodbath as nicole goes crazy on the field. she’s completely lost herself, she isn’t in control anymore. she was always dangerous but now she’s lethal. she’s already gotten some of her own killed, and somebody needs to take her out before it gets worse. she’s a wild animal. and to her, you’re fresh meat.

SIBYL— summit song; nicole dollanganger.

POV: she drowns you in her scrying pool and you are never heard from again. it’s your own fault, really— anna henrietta told you to leave her be and you didn’t listen.

ROSALIND— goodbye; soap&skin, apparat.

POV: she begs mike for the coordinates of where it happened and he doesn’t budge. he never will. he doesn’t trust her not to take a shovel to the earth and dig him up. so in her state of delirium, she walks through the desert and screams and cries and repents. and becomes her own biggest villain.

ODETTE— graveyard; midnight syndicate.

POV: odette quite literally haunts her family estate, left to fall into disrepair. she’s a grief stricken wraith born of despair who brutally attacks anyone who dares step into her tomb. she’s a master illusionist even in death, so if you choose to fight her instead of just leaving, just make sure you first remove the mirrors from the wall.

okay whew that was a TASK but i’m gonna make this a tag game cs i wanna see Y’ALL make ur ocs evil and give them a soundtrack so hehe @florbelles @unholymilf @shellibisshe @ghostfvcker @benwishaw @loriane-elmuerto @leviiackrman @jackiesarch @rosayoro @statichvm @teamhawkeye @bloodofvalyria @red-nightskies @confidentandgood @simply-jason @scalpelsister @devilbrakers @lxmbert and you!

#fr tho like. i loved this post the first time i made it and i think abt it every day #so i had to remake it #back and better than ever tho too #god bless #oc: andie la croix #oc: bianca vionetti #oc: celeste #oc: elvira hawke #oc: oslo avery #oc: jen daniels #oc: faustina #oc: lindy carlisle #oc: lottie byers #oc: nicole moore #oc: mags hightower #oc: sibyl delauvéy #oc: rosalind tyler #oc: mildred malice #also sorry rosalinds is kinda fucked up i just had that vision in my head for so long it’s unreal #um. if you even get this far in the tags sjbdajnska #hi #also elviras little blurb is meant to be that you (reader) are the deputy #if that didn’t come across that way #don’t worry abt what faustina’s pov is #it’s blasphemous related sorry that games lore has me in a headlock #yes the faustina song is from another game already what of it #i am cheating w rosalinds song btw #if u even care #oc: odette haliçi

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i-love-hot-men-in-video-games · 5 months

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I did a character analysis on John Seed

As we know, John is the baby brother of Jacob and Joseph. He is also the Baptist of Eden's Gate. We know he's pretty wealthy, judging by his appearance, as well as the ranch he owns. But what do we not know about John Seed?

In the Book of Joseph and in-game, we get bits and pieces of John's past, but we never really get the full-scale of it all. we also never get John's point of view. But with everything I've gathered, we can try to see John as a person and know more about his personality.

CHILDHOOD

Before the separation of him and his brothers, John was a happy, go-lucky, loving, caring kid. John would've been the type of person to pick flowers for a pretty girl, or he would've given or even made gifts for those he cared about. If you were crying or were upset, he would've tried to comfort you. Unlike his brothers, John wailed out in pain when he was being beaten, yeah sure we could say that it was because John was a young child, but even before John was born, Joseph used to be beaten and not even flinch when he was a child. This gives us the hint that John is (or was) very sensitive to pain. After he was separated from his brothers, John was adopted by a wealthy, and highly religious family known as the Duncan's. Right away, the Duncan's believed John's soul to be riddled with sin. There is a theory backing this up. John Seed...is left-handed...here's why it makes sense. In Christianity, being left-handed is seen as evil by most, "as those who 'fall from God' are sent to his left hand side (Matthew 25:32-33). The fallen go to the left. Jesus sits at God's right hand side." Being left handed has also been associated with black magic, many left-handed people are still forced to use their right hand because of this superstition. The Duncan's probably thought John was a normal, innocent child at first. People as highly religious as the Duncan's more than likely wouldn't have adopted John otherwise. So what probably happened was that soon after John was adopted, he was probably working on his homework, writing with his left hand, and that's how the Duncan's found out. In the Book of Joseph, Joseph mentions that John was told 'every movement meant temptation' which sounds vague but makes a lot more sense if those movements were done with his left hand. For the most part, John uses his right hand if he's using them consciously. Subconsciously or even unconsciously, he uses his left. Hurk points out that John's lettering is terrible when tattooing. Hinting that John had his left-handed dominance beaten out of him. John's own tattoos are shakily done, further backing up the left-handed theory. Examples from the game are;

Using his left hand on Hudson's throat during his broadcast.

Gripping the Junior Deputy's wrist with enough strength to keep them there, despite the fact that he's dying at that point.

He uses his left hand on his chest to make circular movements...twice, (once in his broadcast, another in his bunker when we talk to him after escaping our confession.) Both times he talks about sin. This hints that John being left-handed is one of his many sins.

Some of the promo art for John shows him using his tattoo gun with his left hand.

Because John had been told that he was riddled with sin his whole life, he developed an obsession with atonement. With proving himself to be free of sin and worthy of love. Also the struggle he seems to have with his two personas. With that, we have God in the center (The Duncan's), John Duncan on the right, and John seed on the left.

And one more thing to note, all of John's sins are tattooed on his left hand.

So with that knowledge, John was tortured and severely interrogated by his parents, he was even sent through many fundamentalist pastors, most likely John was sent through a type of conversion therapy to fix his hand dominance. Out of all of John's siblings, he went through the most psychological abuse.

As John was going through interrogation, he had to confess any and all sins he committed, after a while, John learned that even if he had nothing to hide, he would have to make something up to try and lessen the beatings, but no matter what John said or did, he would be beaten anyway. John Learned how to disguise himself with what others wanted to see. With this he became extraordinarily skilled at manipulation and has used it to acquire info about people to use it for his own advantage.

TEEN/EARLY ADULTHOOD

John graduated high school as Valedictorian and attended a prestigious east coast law school. This heavily hints that John went to Harvard, I mean what other Prestigious East Coast Law School is there besides Harvard? John graduated at the top of his class, and given John's age and how long he's been a lawyer, it's most likely that John graduated Harvard very early, showing us that John is incredibly intelligent.

Let's take a step back though. Statistically, children that grow up in an abusive or even neglectful homes typically have very poor grades, so what does this say about John? Well all John ever wanted was to be loved and be worthy of love, so I think John believed that if he strived academically, then his parents would finally be proud of him and start showing him love, but alas, John's parents passed away sometime in his early adult years, never granting him that opportunity. I believe John grieved after his parents death, but not for the fact that they passed, but for the fact that he didn't make them proud and now he never will.

After John graduated is when it is believed that the Duncans passed and John inherited a small fortune and became one of the fastest rising lawyers in Atlanta, specifically, John is a real-estate lawyer. Overtime, John became incredibly wealthy and developed all sorts of connections, portraying himself as a physical sign of success. Although John was wealthy, strikingly handsome, successful, intelligent, and well-liked, John actually hated himself and society for what it had done to him and his childhood, and even wished for its destruction.

John had written a note titled "My New Father", it talks about how he feels about Joseph and himself.

"I feel like I've been born again; given a second chance at life. I have a father who loves me. I've never known such love. On the outside, I met the requirements of a well-adjusted adult. But inside, that was a different story. Inside you found a tormented boy, damaged and afraid. Rejection and fear controlled my life then. Today, it is acceptance and love that drives me forward."

The context of the note show us that John most likely suffers from Avoidant Personality Disorder.

After a while, John had given himself up to unholy pleasures and became addicted to drugs and sex. In the Book of Joseph it mentions that cocaine was passed around at parties that John himself had hosted. Therefore hinting that John was addicted to cocaine.

When Joseph contacted John, he was working as an associate at a major law firm, undertaking the redevelopment of his childhood neighborhood in Rome. After finding each other, John joined Joseph and found Jacob at the Veteran's Center. John undertook the roles of the Confessor, the Baptist, and the Public Face of Eden's Gate.

PRESENT DAY

Upon arriving in Hope County, John used his fortune to buy up land and property throughout Holland Valley without hassle and quickly became acquainted with the legal system in Montana.

DESCRIPTION

John is described differently by many people. Some say "he's a funny man, but not the 'haha' type of funny." Others say he's a 'creep' and that he has 'a creepy smile'. One person had said that "there's no soul behind those eyes", John has also been described to have a "very intense gaze".

Adelaide is very attracted to John. She makes many lewd comments about him such as "he is bangable as he is crazy", "he's on my 'any hole' list", "bet John gives the best spankings", "killing him would be a waste of a perfectly good set of buns", that she wouldn't mind letting him "harvest her valley", ect. She likes his coat, so much so that she says she wants to see xander in it with nothing on underneath. She is also jealous of his ranch. She also says that he's playing a "strange game" with the Deputy and thinks he might be in "some kind of love" with them.

Charles believes that John has an inferiority complex, and that out of his entire family, he understands John the least, saying that he should've been a wall street megalomaniac instead of a baptist.

Dutch warns the Deputy that "John doesn't make empty threats". Dutch has already saved multiple people from John's Cleansings. He calls him "little ole Johnny" at one point.

Grace believed that she would be the one to kill John and says she hopes she will never forget the sight of his plane falling. Maybe she'll get it tattooed on her one day> According to her, "the more you ruffle his feathers, the angrier he gets" because "he can't deal with embarrassment" or "being made to look bad". She calls his ranch "Hypocrite Center". She thinks he's "too much of a fucking pussy" to come and get the Deputy and their companions personally. After his death, she believes he is in Hell.

Hudson is disappointed she didn't get to see him die. She recalls that, when the Deputy fled the bunker after the Confession and even though he didn't say anything, it was obvious John thought he had failed. She adds, things then got 'worse', as if he was trying to prove something to Joseph. She is for "instant death penalty" for people like him.

Hurk Jr. suggests that, since John believes in the "Power of YES", screaming 'yes' at him several times should force him to leave them alone. He hopes he would at least act like it did something to him. He says "Johnny boy" wants to invite him in his bunker but that he invites John to "kiss [his] entire asshole" instead. He also comments he is "lusting for a dogfight" with the Deputy before humorously suggesting dogfights probably turn John on. He says he is glad he died because he never learned proper lettering or font techniques so his tattoos looked terrible.

Jerome thinks he is 'cruel & selfish'. He was once kidnapped by him and forced to confess. He still seems shocked he said what he said... He was then beaten and left for dead in the woods. He thinks John enjoys making people suffer, that he is 'a con-man', that he just "seeks glory and riches", and that he "immersed himself in a sea of self-aggrandizement". Long ago, he asked John what was driving him and says that, while he gave him many answers, all of them were lies.

Jess calls him "a piece of shit", maybe the worst she's ever met. She says he had his ranch built just for him and that he likes to scare people with his plane.

Kim says he once sent his men to try and pressure her into selling their property when nick was away. One cultist got too close and she broke his nose. They tried to have her arrested after the incident but Merle helped get a restraining order.

Larry calls him an 'unsavory fellow'.

Mary May says he is "one son of a bitch". She remembers the first time he set foot in the Spread Eagle and how he looked at her, like she was 'a meal'. The day he gave her a tattoo, she says he made her wait half a day in a room before eventually letting her go without harming her.

Merle says he isn't superstitious but he still asks if someone put a stake through his heart when he died, just in case. At one point, he calls him "John Fuckface Seed".

Nick says John stole all the baby equipment people had given them and that John said his sin was Greed. Nick disagrees because he just wants to support his family and it's not a sin.

Sharky says he knows pressure points that can make people feel immense pain. Like Adelaide, he thinks John is sexually attracted to the Deputy and that they should "just fuck and get it over with". He loves to make fun of him, saying he is the type of guy to masturbate in front of a mirror and to marvel at his facial expressions, that he is "like that little brother who gets farted on", joking he got 'the clap' so many times he was "diagnosed with a standing ovation", calling him "old Johnson", ect.

Wendell thinks he would fit in well in Washington because he is a Charismatic liar.

Zip believes his "athiest masters" use his bunker for "sexual rituals".

NPCs say the key around John's neck is the only key to the deeper parts of his bunker, where the people they kidnapped are locked. Apparently, John calls it "the Key to Paradise". They warn the deputy he always gets what he wants, one way or another, that they can't run from him, and that every time you meet him, you come away with scars. They seem surprised he insists on catching the Deputy alive. He bought most of the businesses in the area but gave jobs to the cultists only. They imply he made it illegal to hunt in Holland Valley. One civilian wonders if he has a big book with everyone's name in it and if he will come for them personally. When he Marks someone, he then sends them a video. They think one of the reasons why he almost drowns people during the baptisms is because it's "a power play". According to them, his bunker is the cult's pantry and the only way to get in is to be "invited". John wants people to say "yes" but someone thinks he likes it when people say "no" because it gives him "an excuse to get mean". He has reportedly always been obsessed with the people of Fall's End, and especially with Mary May. He and Eden's Gate wanted Nick's plane and they didn't like it when he told them to "fuck off". People say Hudson is tough and it will be difficult for John to break her but they also say he "loves a challenge"... One man who had to confess says he manages to make people say things they didn't want to say. After seeing his ranch, a lot of civilians think he has awful taste in interior decorating and that he has "the worst case of younger sibling syndrome". they have ever seen. A woman explains he likes to "throw his weight around" while another says he has "scars that run deep" and that, deep down, maybe he wants to die.

They say he is relentless, a "rapaticious thug", a "Psychopath", a "Pestilence", a "Pissant" (compared to Jacob), a "Sadistic Cat", "the runt/baby of the Seed Family", a "goddamn pussy", a "human toilet", a "bully", a "snot-nosed fearful little shit", a "bona fide nut job", a"control freak", "such a neat freak it's inhuman", a "little punk", "super emotional", someone with a "singular mind" (the one of a serial killer), that he has an aggressive/creepy grin and a scary look on his face. They hate him but seem less afraid of him than they are of Faith and Jacob. Some even talk about "descrating his corpse or his sepulture" (they don't say such things about the other Heralds).

A few people believe he is just Joseph's puppet and no better than his dog. One woman thinks he never had Joseph's full confidence, unlike Faith. They say John sees his brother as a father and they hope that because of the Deputy's actions, Joseph will be ashamed of him and even "disown" him. It seems Jacob always tried to look out for him.

COMMENTS ABOUT THE OTHER CHARACTERS

John calls the Deputy to tell them Jerome is "selfish and misguided" and that his followers wouldn't have left him if he were "a true man of God".

He says the Deputy is "a murderer and a coward", and comments that they don't seem to give "a second thought to killing". According to him, their sin is Wrath. He claims he "personally" knows the feelings that drive them and can help them wash away their sins. He desperately tries to make them understand they are not on the right path and, while he admires their will and tenacity, he seems sad they refused to listen to him and didn't care about what he tried to say.

Wow, a lot to unpack here. So most of the comments are negative, even a few of the cult members had some negative and odd things to say, but what can we gather from these comments?

Well... to the Eden's Gate members, he is an odd man and seems very creepy, but why?

John is a very lustful man with a lot of Wrath and Lust within him. It seems that John and other Eden's Gate members have a lot of sex considering that people have said that his home smells funny and people claim that they have sexual rituals in his bunker. Many comments have been about how John gets "turned on", by dogfights, forcing people to confess by hurting them, that he loves to put up a fight and deal with challenging people. John knows pressure points that cause immense pain, is skillful with a knife, and that he's playing games with the Deputy. John, I believe was once secretly part of the BDSM community, given the fact that causing pain excites him and that he knows where the most pain is caused, only those of the BDSM community know where those are and to either avoid it or use it for pleasure. He almost drowns people during baptisms as a "power play". Also when John gets done with Nick during the 'Atonement'... he is literally MOANING as he's cleaning himself off, NEED I SAY MORE!?

When it comes to upsetting John, it's best not to as he's known for fulfilling his threats, so don't take him lightly. He seems to get angry a lot to hide his embarrassment, he also seems to scare people using his plane as leverage, he does all these things simply to scare people and not actually harm them, but it seems he also uses it as leverage and seems to always win. There are many mean and terrible things said about John, even the fact that people hope Joseph will disown his own brother. But there is so much about John that is well hidden until you start to dig...

First of all, it's blatantly obvious John has a big crush on the Deputy, from the way he looks at us for a second after he lifts us out of the water after almost drowning us, to when he has to pause before turning around to meet our gaze in the bunker, to the wedding theme before the 'Atonement' at the church.

I'm going to further elaborate on John's behavior in the bunker. When John has to pause before looking at us, it seems he's trying to prepare himself and keep his cool, you know, "like omg my crush is right here, act cool." When John slams down the industrial stapler to look at us... his hips sway and he stares with admiration in his eyes. When he comes up to us to assemble his tattoo gun, he slows down his speech as he stares at the Deputy's chest, he was lost in thought for a moment, most likely because he was probably thinking what we would look like without a shirt on. He also rips open our shirt to look at our chest, before looking back up at us, and down at our lips for a split second before looking back up at our eyes. So yeah, John has a very OBVIOUS huge crush.

John is rarely understood, many people just call him sadistic and crazy, but deep down, John is a scared child who has been starved of love and affection (this is why he represents Famine), and perhaps even genuinely cares about people and the Deputy.

I'll elaborate and it might take a while...

stay tuned for part 2

#john seed #farcry5

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