#fc5 fic

[inafieldofdaisies]

WIP Whenever (since I'm way late for a Wednesday check-in)

Popping in with a new OC reveal this week, mwah. Meet Sébastien as he runs headfirst, or shall I say falls, into trouble.

"And above all, keep your feet and legs together.", the faint droning of the instructor rang in the background as Sébastien regarded the picturesque scenery below him through the opening of the small plane, "You listenin'?" He let out a chuckle before sending a smile the man's way, same one he would offer his father's investors anytime he'd be forced to sit into a meeting with them and pretend he knew all about running their family business. "Of course, m-", he racked his brain, trying to remember a name, first or last, anything, at the end coming up empty, "my dear newfound friend." The bored look he received as a reply wasn't promising, but he wasn't there to impress anyone, rather than seconds away from plummeting down from 10 000 feet up, if luck had it, gracefully and without a hitch. "You sighed the waiver.", the man muttered under his breath before continuing, "From your demeanor, I take it you're not worried?" "No.", Sébastien lied as he braced against the side of the plane, completely suited up, wondering if the truth would stop him from his most recent adrenaline seeking spontaneous trip. His forged license ensured him passage, a seat on the plane, almost making him forget he had to also act the part, doubting money would slay the person in front of him with how much weight he put on the rules even before take-off.

"Good.", a mumble sounded from the front, followed by a wave from their pilot aimed at the instructor. "-clearance.", he strained his ears, trying to catch whatever the two were hunkered down and whispering about. "Okay. Showtime, Mr. King.", it took him a lot of willpower to not instinctively correct the fake name he had given upon meeting the man and signing a stack of documents before his dive. His father would always talk about how much pride he had to have in the Gallagher-Kerring name, the legacy it carried, same one that gave people a pause and made it super easy for him to be tracked down. "I thought we weren't due for a couple of more minutes?", checking his watch was close to impossible, with all the gear he had on, but eventually he managed to confirm his suspicion. The scenery wasn't of much help location wise with the fields and various small structures scattered between winding roads signaling, he could have been anywhere over Montana. The body of water they passed reminded him he wasn't exactly listening to that part of the lecture. Just aim for anything that's not water. Easy. "Time flies.", was all the instructor offered before bracing his hands on his hips, "Usually we would need the equipment back by Friday, or else you lose the deposit, but seeing how you have your own and didn't request retrieval…" "That won't be an issue?" The plan was to skydive, land near Missoula, maybe hitchhike there if he felt extra adventurous. Everything he wore was practically brand new, purchased after he had stormed the closest specialized store he could find the moment he had left the most recent gathering Frank Gallagher-Kerring had bestowed upon him. The bright yellow and black piece covering his lean body wasn't exactly his first choice, but he was assured it was the best and most expensive one they had.

"Yeah. Any further questions, Mr. King?" "No. Thank you.", he paired the words with another grin while wishing for the man to already stop talking. With a final clearance and another quick whisper session with the pilot, Sébastien found himself threading air, all his instincts screaming at him he would die. Instead of listening to the pesky voice, he focused on his surroundings and how the small dots that were in reality trees and other buildings became large, closer as he spread his limbs face-to-earth to avoid spinning out and actually making true on that fear. "I'm alive!", he screamed on top of his lungs, absorbing as much of the giddy sensation as he could. There always came a time during whatever dangerous endeavor he partook where his mind would seem so much clearer, though usually he had others with him, drowning out the tranquility. "3000 feet.", the altimeter attached to his helmet announced, kicking him back into action as he recalled his instructor's word about the moment he needed to open his parachute. His right hand grasped the rip-cord while his left came to rest across his waist. A sudden jolt followed as the canopy unfolded, making his breath hitch. He pushed through the shock as a satisfied smile spead over his features. "Piece of cake.", he muttered while his eyes zeroed on a white shape speeding down one of the roads he could see from his position. He had no idea how much time passed where he descended towards the clearing he believed was good enough for a landing with the alternative of ending up in one of the trees nearby, slightly worrying him.

Then he felt it, trying to convince himself the adrenaline was playing tricks on him - something flying past him as smaller forms that looked almost like ants came into view. Whatever calm had taken over his body left him at once when the whoosh happened again, followed by another. A stinging sensation registered in his arm as he gripped his parachute risers tighter. His gaze widened in horror at the tear in his suit as another bullet flew past and missed him. The multiple holes marrying the previously intact material of the bright yellow and black canopy only fueled it. "No fucking waaaaay.", he let out a string of curses as panic swooped in together with the realization he was being shot at. That the shapes that previously looked like ants were people with guns and coming in closer as he descended down. In his attempts to avoid getting killed by something that had nothing to do with his questionable choices, he focused on the road next to the clearing, hoping the maniacs would let out if he landed outside of what he assumed was their private property they were so dead set on defending from an innocent skydiver. Their angry yells mixed until they were indistinguishable as he began plummeting down faster thanks to his parachute being turned into swiss cheese. The wind worked in his favor somewhat, granting him a lead on his pursuers. More bullets flew, all missing him by mere chance, making him glad whoever those men were they certainly had worse aim than him at his very first shooting lesson his father had dragged him to when he was but 10.

"Come on. Come on, baby.", he chanted as his luck ran out and his hopeful descent turned nightmarish, faster, out of control. It was becoming clear making it to the safety of the road wasn't in the cards for him when his trajectory shifted dramatically despite him trying his hardest to keep steady. "FUCCK.", ripped out of his throat as he calculated his chances of making it over the tree line separating the fields from the road. No way. It was going to take a miracle. All he could do was close his eyes while his elbows locked together to instinctively protect his face from the incoming collusion. A part of him wondered if he should pray, if anything would even consider saving him with his track record of mayhem. "I wanna live. I'd donate all my money if I have to.", spilled out as a promise, thought he meant just the first part, letting go of his usual lifestyle felt impossible, out of the question. It's all he had and considered deserving off after surviving being raised by a Gallagher-Kerring. Sébastien had no idea how his landing actually unfolded as he kept his eyes shut, chanting reassurances under his breath, all he knew was that one second he was facing certain death, the next he felt his parachute hook onto something. "What the-", he could still hear faint shouts behind him, as his harness pulled at his body, feet dangling uselessly midair instead of touching the ground below, "I'm alive? Fuck. Gotta move." His hands shook as he grasped at the buckles, willing for his fingers to cooperate and undo them before whatever advantage he had on his attackers would vanish entirely.

"It's not that high. Nope.", he lied to himself, feeling idiotic for fearing such small drop after having literally dove out from a plane and risked his life for thrills. He held his breath as the final straps keeping him suspended gave way and gravity brought him down, his not so graceful but loosened stance softening his fall to a degree. With racing heart he relaxed into the grass beneath him, his victory becoming shortlived as he looked up and met a pair of angry eyes, then his gaze lowered, stopping at the rifle cluthed in the bloody grip of the unkept man looming above him. "Friendly, kind sir.", he whispered and shimmied back until his helmet made contact with something solid. It's just a big stone. Yeah. Not a leg connected to a person. It's what went through his mind despite suspecting reality was different and granted, when his head twisted to glance at what he had run into in his attempt to retreat, another just as equally furious seeming man greeted him by sneering his way. He would have bet a good chunk of money they were brothers, with the one behind him looking like he had been eating his vegetables and then some. "Fried-", a hand pulled him to his feet like he weighted nothing and made the word die before it formed fully, especially with how the longhaired Berserker wanna-be was holding onto his helmet, making him wonder if his grip would squish his head if nothing stood in its path. The fact he was taller than Sébastien didn't help, either. "We should call this in. Otis, get me Brother John on the line.", the shorter brother barked an order, attention shifting past the two. And then there were three?

His captor let out a low grunt, "We should, Bo… but he said he is to not be bothered today. Under any circumstance." "With the exception of anything related to the Deputy.", a third voice presumably belonging to Otis added, or at least it's what he hoped - that he wasn't about to be surrounded by a whole gang of trigger happy locals that took trespassing way too seriously. I wasn't even touching the ground. His hand inched up to his face, aiming for the clasp under his chin while Bo rubbed his dark beard, contemplating their options. "This Sinner fell from the sky.", he pointed his rifle at Sébastien, making him hold his breath in anticipation of the worst, "What if this is part of the Father's prophecy? A sign?" Sinner? Father? WHAT THE FUCK IS HAPPENING? Did I travel back in time? Sébastien forced a laugh, "It's called skydiving, have you people not heard of it? You know, plane, jumping, freefalling, then parachuting the rest of the-" The Berserker shook him in warning, its threatening tone not halting his concealed efforts at freeing himself, "SHUT UP." "Sorry. Just-" "I said shut your mouth, Sinner before you become an Angel.", the sentence was uttered through gritted teeth, before the man addressed his shorter look-alike, "Or the Sinners are sending in reinforcements, airdropping them, hoping we'd be caught off guard." Like I have a chance at taking you all out. I've been hitting the gym, but not that HARD. "Call this in, Otis. Brother John would like to know.", Bo concluded with a nod.

The second the command was spoken out loud, the clasp securing the helmet to Sébastien's head came undone. Before any of the three men could blink, he was making a run for it, discarding the piece of equipment as years of running track in highschool came back to him, but instead of running to impress his father, he was running for his life. "GRAB HIM.", the scream Bo released pushed him to speed up, his calves and whole body really aching from the fall while his eyes remained glued ahead, knowing glancing back would do him no good. Only add to his raising panic, feeding a different level of adrenaline. With the rustling behind him signaling the nearing recapture, he vaulted the fence that stood between him and freedom, leaping onto the road and almost getting ran over by a white truck in the process. His hands rose up as to shield him as Sébastien saw his life flash before him for a second time that day before whoever was behind the wheel hit the breaks hard, forcing the vehicle to an abrupt stop inches away from him. "I'M CROSSING HERE, YOU FUCKING IDIOT.", he yelled and hit the truck's hood for good measure, and he would have been embarrassed by how high pitched the words were, if he wasn't absolutely furious. I'm a Gallagher-Kerring. His brain didn't even fully register the strange cross painted on the vehicle or how it matched the one on his pursuers' sweaters. "Get down.", a deep voice responded before a shot rang out and he ducked without a second thought, scrambling towards the side of the truck as bullets began flying. A rumbling noise sounded from the treeline, followed by a red light exploding in the sky. A flare.

Sébastien watched in horror, suspecting more trouble was headed his way when the gunfire died down as fast as it had started. "Hey.", a door slammed shut, making him move further away from the passenger's side of the truck while the same voice from before added, "You alive, jaywalker?" Boots crunched against the gravel as he rounded the front of the vehicle, his determined approach and the fact he was armed activating Sébastien's fight or flight instincts. "Stay back.", he hollered as a blond man, who couldn't have been older than him, came into view. "Easy now.", a laughter escaped him when he shoved his gun in the waistband of his jeans, his palm circled his own face then pointed at him, "Did you fall into a bush?" "No." "Got caught in the cattle fence as little ducky was crossing the road? Where's your mama?", Sébastien eyed his outstretched arm with suspicious before reluctantly grabbing it so he can help him up. He shook of the man's hold, putting safe distance between them as he braced for another attack. "Skydiving into a tree.", he muttered under his breath and a realization dawned on him, "YOU- YOU- DUCKY?" The stranger shrugged as he regarded him from head to toe before swiveling on his heel, "Yellow. Duck. Wasn't me who picked that outfit, chief. Would you rather me call you baby chick? That was option B. Felt too on the nose."

His anger rose back to the surface as the man climbed back into his truck and he spun to stare at him through the rolled down window, "You have no idea who you're talking to!" All he got initially was a slow, unimpressed blink, "Do tell, your Majesty?", he tapped his watch, an old looking thing, "But make it quick." "I-", his mouth snapped shut. A smirk came over the man across him, "Well? You shy? I'd start first, name's Calahan. Calahan Hartley. Your turn." "Sébastien Theodore Phoenix Sawyer Thatcher Landon Nicholas Gallagher-Kerring.", his full name spilled out, making him feel like he was at the front of his class, confusing everyone and then himself by the reaction it always got out of people. Blond eyebrows twisted in confusion before Calahan released a chuckle, the usual of recognition upon speaking the Gallagher-Kerring name nowhere in sight, "Wait. Are you actually for real?" "It's my name." "Jesus. Your parents hate you or something, bud?", he leaned back into his seat, giving him a first look at the bodies laying on the road a few feet away from them, the pools of blood making him woozy. In turn, Hartley seemed completely at ease, like he hadn't just taken out three men and potentially saved his life. Sébastien frowned, "No." Silence took over before Calahan cleared his throat and nodded at the passenger's side, "You need a ride?" "I will pass." "Be my guest, your Majesty, just a friendly word of advice… that red flare? Means more of those fuckers are coming as reinforcements and I ain't sticking around to play your bodyguard, I'm on a tight schedule. When they roll up, just say you're ready for your Cleansing and praise the Father."

"You're not one of them?" "Hell no." A sigh left Sébastien before his fingers lowered to the door handle, "They shot at me." "Their usual modus operandi with all of us locals. Where?" He pulled at his sleeve until the place where one of the bullets had grazed his upper arm peeked through, crimson marrying the yellow material. "Have seen worse, far worse." "Are you serious?" Mischief shone in his eyes, "You're gonna live, bud, I promise, giving ya the word of a Hope County Deputy. Last chance, are you hitching a ride with me or going for a Peggie pick-up? John is going to have a field day with ya." As he said that, he stepped on the gas enough for the vehicle to inch forward, clearly enjoying the precicament Sébastien had found himself in and how riled up he got at his words. "Who's John?", he asked as he settled into the passenger seat. "It's a long story, short one is: someone you don't want to mess with. How about you start tellin' me how you ended up here and why these three were chasing you?" "It's a long story.", Sébastien parrotted back, finding himself unable to shake off the bitereness at the man's previous comments. "Cheer up, your Majesty. I should be sulking at you for almost denting my truck, after the hassle it was to steal." "I have a name. And you stole a truck?" Calahan rolled his eyes, "Among other things. So, what should I call you for short because I ain't reciting that long-ass name back to you…"

His hands crossed over his chest as Calahan put the truck into drive, "Nothing." "Rubber ducky it is, then." "Maurizio's fine.", he grumbled, causing the Deputy to laugh again. So happy to be providing entertainment for you. "That wasn't even among the names you listed, chief. I think." "It's what friends call me." "Uh-oh, did I get upgraded to a friend?" "Absolutely not." "Ouch.", Calahan rubbed his chest, "Hurts almost as a bullet. You part of a dynasty?" "Something like that. Why were they shooting at me?" "Cult took over after we tried to arrest their leader, has the whole county on lockdown and communications cut off, hence why I was askin' how you got here." "What, I don't look like a local?" He snorted, "Do I start with your outfit, posh accent, or long name that won't fit on a name tag?" "I'm regretting my choice to hitchhike already." "Hey, no offense. You asked. Plus, you need to flag me down first, not jump out in the middle of the road like you're trying to trap me into paying you damages." Sébastien ignored the apology, "How do I get to Missoula?" "You listening to anything I just said? Or did you hit your head as you fell down? Lockdown." Denial seeped into his system at the fact he was stranded in the wrong place, "I need a ride to Missoula." "Can't do."

"I will pay you.", he patted the inside pocket of his suit, the wad of cash he carried around for emergencies giving him a sense of comfort. "As tempting as that sounds, we're in a middle of a holy war, so I can't be your personal driver." "I need to make a call then. You got a cell?" He had left his own behind, knowing his father would immediately track him down otherwise, now he kind of wished he would have left a trail to follow. Certainly, would have solved his 'stuck in the middle of a hostile conflict' problem promptly. Calahan groaned, "You truly ain't listening." The truck drove past a sign announcing they're entering 'Fall's End.', and his attention drifted off again, forcing his reluctant driver to call out his nickname. "What?" "I asked if you're fine making a quick stop on the way to the doctor's. I know you have to get that fatal wound treated ASAP." "Stop where?" Various structures lined the road on both sides, some burned down, others appearing like they had housed a face-off or two. "Here.", the vehicle rolled to a stop in front of a relatively spared building, the neon sign of a woman in just her bikini and a set of wings drawing his gaze. "A bar? It's barely past noon." He had no idea why he had even muttered that, considering he himself had participated in far worse activities in his lifetime, ones that often created a media storm Frank Gallagher-Kerring paid a fortune to bury. "You can stay in the car, posh boy. I won't be long."

Calahan didn't wait for his reply, quickly exiting the car without sparing him a look as he strutted inside the bar. "Fuck this.", Sébastien slammed the door with way too much force, contemplating if he should try to track down a working phone line, no matter how much he dreaded crawling back to his father that soon. This is hardly a proper rebellion. At the end, he dragged himself towards the bar, the bell's jiggle cutting off whatever conversation Calahan was having with a woman and by the knowing look she gave him, he was most likely the subject of it. "Mary May, this is…", Hartley paused, expecting he would just introduce himself, then turned around to shoot him a glance, "Humor me. I saved your life." "Sébastien Gallagher-Kerring." "Hilarious. You forgot like 20 names." "Whatcha drinking?", the blonde nodded his way. "Organic tea?" Before he knew it, she was placing a quick kiss against Calahan's cheek before backing away with an annoyed expression, "I hate you, you know that, Rookie?" "The feeling of being right.", he sighed and locked his hands at the nape of his neck, leaning back in the chair he was occupying. "Sorry, I'm lost.", Sébastien uttered out as he slid into the seat next to his. "You're in a bar in Montana.", Mary May began and placed an empty glass in front of him, "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." Calahan leaned in, whispering loudly, "Also known as blatant disrespect. Which I would advise against." "Damn right. You order liquor.", she chimed in as she poured him a drink, "With how pale you are, it might even do you some good."

"Man went through his first Peggie encounter, Angel." "And then Zorro got to his face and bold choice of outfit, too?" It was the second time someone had commented on his face, making him wonder if he wanted to see the damage done by his landing while his hand ran across his clean-shaven cheek. "Skydiving." At the same moment Calahan said, "Maurizio hugged a tree… and it hugged him back." "No wonder he asked for organic tea." "He is also in the room.", Sébastien retorted back before he brought the glass to his lips, hoping the alcohol look make his situation seem less hopeless, or at least take care of the constant dull pain in his arm. The bell chimed behind him, and while he ignored the sound, choosing to wallow in his bad luck, Hartley spun around in his seat and let out a low whistle directed at whoever had arrived. "Chief! Come meet a noble." "Noble?", there was humor in the newcomer's voice as he slapped his back and leaned against the bar. Sébastien could feel him staring and he reluctantly lifted his gaze, meeting a pair of friendly blue eyes. "See this face, ducky? You see someone like him but covered in tattoos and rambling about sin and the Power of Yes,", Calahan waves his hand towards the man's face like he was giving a lesson, "you run the other way. Preferably not in front of my truck." "Very funny, Cal.", the dark haired man grumbled out, before reaching his arm across him for a handshake, "Leslie Parish. Don't mind him. I look nothing like John." "Still in denial." "Sébastien Gallagher-Kerring." "Well, now that you two are acquainted, Les, do you feel like givin' me a hand and taking this one to the doc? Peggies gave him a boo-boo." After blowing a kiss to Mary May Calahan jumped out of his chair, pushing the door open just as Leslie finally realized he was being entrusted to take care of a complete stranger, "Should I expect trouble?" He smirked at the question, "From me or him? Both debatable."

Tagging @adelaidedrubman @socially-awkward-skeleton @strangefable @josephseedismyfather @josephslittledeputy @direwombat @purplehairsecretlair @jillvalentinesday @unholymilf @florbelles @madparadoxum @strafethesesinners @nightbloodbix @voidika @theelderhazelnut @clicheantagonist @wrathfulrook @dumbassdep @cassietrn @trench-rot @g0dspeeed @harmonyowl @aceghosts @shegetsburned @onehornedbeast and anyone that would like to share anything this week <3

#took ages to nail his faceclaim but boooooy i'm so stoked bcs it's just how I picture him <3 <3 <3 #also baby boy so has a posh accent; so read the lines accordingly <3 #I've never laughed so much while writing a scene; I swear Seb is something else :D #Also there's a whole story behind why friends call him Maurizio #oc: sébastien gallagher-kerring #wip: in hope of tomorrow #wip whenever #wip wednesday #far cry 5 oc #fc5 ocs #snippets #dialogue snippet #myedits #character inspiration #character reference #character dynamics #wip tag #fc5 fandom #fc5 fic #character moodboard #moodboard

[wrathfulrook]

Not Such a Good Boy

A short little Boomer fic about the saddest times of the goodest boy

Summary: Boomer was a good boy. He’d been told so his whole life, and he’d rarely ever doubted it. Only three times had Boomer felt like a bad dog, like a dog who had failed. Like a dog who wasn’t a protector, a hero, a champion. Like on the day the bad man came.

Word count: 875

Read on ao3 here!

Boomer was a good boy. He’d been told so his whole life, and he’d rarely ever doubted it. Only three times had Boomer felt like a bad dog, like a dog who had failed. Like a dog who wasn’t a protector, a hero, a champion.

Once, when Ryan was a puppy, just learning how to walk on two legs, he fell down the stairs. He was napping in his bed and woke without them hearing. While Boomer, Russell, and Rae-Rae sat in the living room, watching TV, Ryan attempted to toddle down to join them, but lost his footing in the end, taking the last few stairs all at once. Russell and Rae-Rae rushed him to the doctor, and Boomer stayed behind, pacing nervously, consumed with worry.

Human puppies were so fragile. What if he was really hurt? Boomer should have known. His hearing was so much stronger than Russell and Rae-Rae’s. He should have heard Ryan moving around up there. He should have been there to help him down the stairs.

In the end, it was fine. Ryan wasn’t hurt, just scared. He learned how to walk like a human eventually, and he continued to grow up just fine. But that had been one of the worst days of Boomer’s life.

Until the day the bad man came.

That morning, the trucks pulled up quickly and loudly. Too many of them all at once.

Rae-Rae knew what was happening before he did. She forcefully pulled Ryan away from his cereal and pushed him towards the back door, urging him, “Run! Now! Remember the plan, baby! Just like we talked about, okay? Mommy loves you!”

Ryan was barely out the back when men came barging through the front door. Rae-Rae shrieked at the thunderous sound of the door banging off of the wall and Boomer threw himself between her and the intruders. He barked and growled and held them back for a bit.

He bit the arm of the man that first advanced on him, but it wasn’t enough. There were too many men. And just going for the arm was never going to be enough to stop him. But Boomer didn’t know that. He’d never attacked anyone before. He was a good boy.

He and Rae-Rae were outnumbered and easily overpowered. Dragged outside, Boomer saw that Ryan hadn’t gotten far at all, held in the arms of one of the trespassing men. Rae-Rae began screaming and cursing anew upon seeing her puppy held hostage by these men.

While Boomer was forced into a large crate, Rae-Rae was manhandled to her knees and held there. Only then did the bad man make his appearance. He exited one of the trucks, smoothing his hair out of his face and pushing his sunglasses back on his head. His long coat swirl around his legs as he walked purposefully towards them. The men all gave him their full attention, moving out of his way while he walked. He was obviously the one in charge.

He first approached Ryan, crouching down to speak to him on his level. He smiled and nodded and acted correctly, but Boomer didn’t like him. He couldn’t hear what the man said, due to Rae-Rae’s shouting, now directed at him. Boomer snarled.

The man stood and nodded to the one holding Ryan back, who led him over to a truck, loaded him into the cab, and drove away. Boomer barked and growled and jumped at the mesh of the crate, all to no avail. He couldn’t know it at the time, but it was the last time he’d ever see Ryan.

Rae-Rae continued to scream and rail against the men holding her down, tears now pouring down her red face. The man approached her next, said something Boomer couldn’t hear over his own barking. He stepped back, raised a handgun, and shot her. She fell to the ground, so much, too much, blood pouring out of her unmoving body.

He then approached Boomer, pinning a note to the crate, seemingly uncaring of his claws and teeth only inches away, desperately trying to tear through the wires separating them. He gave more orders to his men, still unheard by Boomer, before re-entering his truck and driving away. As if what had just happened was no big deal, as if he hadn’t just changed, ruined, Boomer’s life.

The third time he felt he wasn’t a good boy was today. When the deputy had brought to a big house, with dozens of the bad Peggie humans. He had helped the deputy in situations like this before. Scenting out the men, taking out those who attacked them. It was more of the same.

Until the wind shifted.

And Boomer caught the scent of the house. The scent of the human who lived inside.

The bad man.

And so Boomer was running. Away from the deputy who needed his help and away from that house. But mostly away from the bad man.

A good boy would stay and help. A good boy would go into the house. A good boy would get him. A good boy would protect everybody from the bad man.

But Boomer was too sad, too scared, to be a good boy. Not today, at least.

#my stuff #far cry 5 #fc5 #boomer #rae-rae #john seed #fc5 fic #far cry 5 fic

[chazz-anova]

And I saw, behold it was a white horse ...And Hell Followed With Him

Chapters i. | ii. | iii. | iv. | v. | vi. | vii. | viii. | ix

| John Seed x Female Deputy | Faith Seed x Female Herald |

-In Progress-

#fc5 #far cry 5 #john seed #faith seed #joseph seed #jacob seed #veronica rook #antoinette chambers #roman ayson #my writing #fc5 fic #ahfwh #...and hell followed with him

[skoll-sun-eater]

WIP Wednesday and Last Line

Tagged by @the-silver-chronicles

I'm so sorry. So when I see "Last Line." Does, 'last line' mean, the last line of something, like legit one sentence? A paragraph? Or the last line of what you worked on up to the point that you stopped? I tried lookin at others were doin. It all is different.

I'll post this for now, I'll revise this post if I can figure out what is goin on. I'm sorry I don't understand most of these games. My bad.

Okay edit here! Here's my best shot. Super rough drafty bit. I was typin last night...mornin...at 5:00AM....

Anywho, warnings are brief suicide thought mentions.

From: Revelations for the red horseman's daughter.

Jacob sips on his whiskey in darkness trying to savor it. All the while he stares at his gun on the desk, not but twelve feet away from him. The moon light is peeking through the cracks of some of the windows still left boarded up.

He’s thinking about it

But as soon as those thoughts creep in, he thinks of Jenavieve.

She will be home soon…

How could he do that to her? No, he isn’t weak he can wait, he has to wait!

She’ll be in his arms soon enough. However…

Maybe I’ll have her come home from John’s sooner. She may be strong enough to face the truth of all this.

#I don't understand #wip wednesday #edited #fc5 fic

[strafethesesinners]

WIP holy crap I actually have something day

tagged by many many people over the past few weeks but most recently I think by @direwombat @socially-awkward-skeleton @clicheantagonist @adelaidedrubman @henbased @ishwaris and @multiverse-of-themind

Tagging: @unleashed111 @depyotee @deputyash @harmonyowl @nuclearstorms @belorage @unholymilf @purplehairsecretlair @derelictheretic @josephslittledeputy @a-far-cry-from-my-main @havingsomemorejohnlarks @amistrio @cobb-vanthss @chyrstis and whoever else feels like sharing

Here’s a little scene from my uh still technically not begun reworked fic, a little ways down the line after John’s been kicked out. Other than that not sure exactly where this fits I just wanted to get it out here

John slipped from between two large supply crates towards a stack of barrels, as quickly as he dared. It was risky, but he had to hear what Joseph and Jacob were saying as they moved toward Cooper’s cage.

“…..due respect, Joseph, you don’t know this man,” Jacob’s gruff voice came through faintly but clearly as John’s two brothers walked a few feet from him.

“I do know him, Jacob,” Joseph’s voice was stern, but soft, always calm unless he had a reason to raise it for emphasis. John felt a twist to his stomach at the sound of it. The last time he had heard that voice, Joseph had been handing down his sentence. Not shouting, but in a ringing and final tone that quelled all argument.

“The Voice showed him to me long before he appeared in our church that night, long before he came to our county, even,” Joseph continued.

“Yes, Joseph, I understand that but…”

“You think the Voice was wrong? Or I perhaps misinterpreted it?”

“No of course not, I just don’t see what we have to gain by keeping this man alive, he’s” Jacob paused, clearly searching for the right words, “a menace.”

John knew exactly how Jacob was feeling. Cooper had caused Eden’s Gate no end of trouble since the war had begun. It was a miracle they had caught him at all. It must be difficult for a military man like Jacob to keep such an obvious threat alive. But Joseph must have his reasons, for which John was grateful. He hadn’t protested when Jacob had thrown Cooper in a cage; starved him, beat him. He was on thin enough ice with his eldest brother as it was. But at his core, he did not wish to see Cooper die.

Joseph and Jacob had stopped just in front of the cage holding the deputy. Carefully, John crouch walked between two empty cages close by, keeping the one draped in tarp between him and Joseph’s line of sight. He peaked out; Joseph was turned toward Jacob and Cooper so John felt he should be alright to watch if he kept still and quiet. Staci Pratt stood nearby, cowering, watching. Cooper was lying on the ground, apparently asleep, but sat up as the two men approached the cage. Joseph motioned for Jacob to stay back a step. John swallowed at how slowly and weakly Cooper moved.

“I know you’re in pain,” Joseph murmured, voicing John’s thoughts aloud, almost too softly to hear, “the Lord giveth, and the Lord taketh away….”

Joseph crouched in front of the cage, bringing himself to Cooper’s eye level. Cooper watched him, his expression completely blank. John chewed at his lips nervously. Joseph was much too close. Jacob also shifted uncomfortably, clearly of the same mind as John. But he did nothing.

“You know I had a wife once?” Joseph began, rolling up his sleeve to expose the tattoo of his long dead spouse. Then he stuck his arm through the bars of the cage.

John bit down hard on his knuckles to avoid shouting a warning; Jacob leapt forward. But it was too late.

Cooper moved with the speed of a striking rattlesnake; he grabbed Joseph’s arm and snapped it against the bars like a stick of celery.

Joseph cried out, lurching backwards, but again, not fast enough. Cooper reached through the bars, wrapping his vice like hands around Joseph’s throat. He jerked Joseph forward, slamming his head against the bars, and began to squeeze.

“Pratt! Get that cage open now!” Jacob barked. He dashed forward and gripped Cooper’s arm, trying to prise his hands loose, all while Joseph spluttered hideously.

“Fuck!” Jacob swore as his efforts came to nothing, he let go and drew his hand gun, pointing it at Cooper’s head.

“Let go,” he growled, “let go or I’ll kill you now and face the consequences.”

Cooper glared up at him, his face twisted into an animalistic half snarl, half grin, but did not loosen his grip. Joseph’s grew redder and redder. Pratt fumbled with the keys but he was taking too long. Jacob steadied his hands and fired.

John’s stomach dropped. All the air stolen from his lungs. He fell against the side of the cage next to him in shock; most likely making too much noise but no one was paying attention. Then he saw Cooper fall back finally, bleeding from his arm, and sank to the ground in relief. Joseph was safe. Cooper wasn’t safe but he wasn’t dead either. Jacob pulled Joseph back away from the cage as the Father groaned in pain.

“Helicopter! Now!” Jacob shouted orders at his men who were just now appearing to investigate the gunshot, “the father is hurt!”

“The father is hurt!” The message passed through the men who scattered, fetching help as if their own lives were at stake. Pratt finally unlocked Cooper’s cage.

“You,” Jacob snapped at him, “see to his wound, and be careful! I’ll deal with you later.”

Jacob lifted Joseph carefully and hurried away. John exhaled slowly once they were out of sight. He was shaking. He realized his knuckles were bleeding where he had bitten them. He used the bars of the cage to pull himself to his feet and walked over to Cooper’s cage, where Pratt was wrapping a gauze around the bullet wound in Cooper’s arm. A film of sweat shone on Cooper’s brow and he was grimacing, but still he said nothing; made no sound.

“Cooper,” John croaked, and the deputy looked up, meeting John’s gaze defiantly. “Why?”

Cooper stared at him for the longest time, then finally, he just shrugged.

#wip Saturday #wip Friday #it’s both ok #oc: Cooper McCoy #John Seed #John Seed/oc #Joseph Seed #Jacob Seed #far cry 5 #far cry 5 oc #fc5 fic #far cry 5 fanfic #fc5 fanfic

[direwombat]

“Get back down here, we’re not done yet.” + jacob/sybille 👀

Sybille doesn’t know how or why this keeps happening. It always starts with her shaking Jacob’s hunters, forcing him to come after her himself. And it always ends like this: with the two of them covered in dirt and blood, wrestling on the forest floor like a couple of beasts, their firearms long since tossed aside. 

Freedom goes to whoever wins. 

She snarls as she narrowly dodges an elbow to her face, and she tries not to think about how good it feels to have him manhandle her. The heat of his body pressed up against hers as he tries to grapple her; the pleasant ache of the bruises blooming at her hips when he roughly grabs her and pulls her to the ground. He triggers something primal in her, makes her feel like there’s something caged beneath her skin, clawing to escape. Part of her thinks that he might actively be trying to set whatever it is free. 

She can’t let him. She refuses to let him. Whatever she has locked away, she made damn sure that the key would never be found. It’s a door she isn’t even remotely ready to open.

He growls beneath her, but she keeps her weight pressed against him. He’s damn strong -- she can feel it in the way he struggles against her -- but she is too, and she’s got gravity helping her out. Her shins pin his knees to the ground and her hands are wrapped tight around his wrists. She’s splayed out awkwardly, just a few inches too short to comfortably keep him pinned down like this, but tall enough to succeed in doing so. They’re both breathing heavily, exhausted from the fight. A bead of sweat rolls down the slope of her nose and drips onto his face. 

“You yield?” she pants.

Jacob bares his teeth, the blood in his mouth staining his teeth pink, but he goes pliant beneath her. He concedes. She won. 

Tentatively, she releases him, but as she moves to stand, he grabs her jacket, yanking her off balance. “Get back down here,” he growls. She lands back on the ground, the wind knocked from her lungs, leaving her stunned just long enough for him to roll on top of her. He cages her in and pins her wrists above her head. “We’re not done yet.”

“What are you --” she snaps, but trails off into a sharp gasp when he presses one of his legs between her thighs. The heat and pressure of him sends a jolt of desire coursing through her, and her heart races. 

He leans in close, his lips ghosting over her jaw and nipping at her earlobe. “How many times are we gonna do this, huh?” he asks. 

She tries to buck him off, snapping her teeth, but he just chuckles as she struggles against him. “Get off me, Jacob,” she warns. 

He pulls back, lips curling into a smile that’s more teeth than she’d like, and he presses his leg harder between her thighs. “Or what?” he asks. “How many times are we gonna do this and walk away before getting to the good part?” Those piercing blue eyes track her lip as she pulls it between her teeth, tugging at the chapped skin. He licks his lips as he watches blood bead on hers. “Tell me no,” he rasps. “Tell me you don’t want this.”

She should. She knows she should. But try as she might, she can’t get her mouth to form around the words. Something itches underneath her skin, that strange creature inside her throwing itself against the walls of its cage, rattling the bars and threatening to break free. 

Jacob grins, something dark and predatory. 

He lets go of her wrists, and she fully intends on scratching that smug look off his face. But as her hands fly up, her fingers twine into his high-and-tight and she pulls him in. It can barely be called a kiss. It’s desperate, hungry, consuming in a way that lights a fire in her belly. Their teeth clack together, and every move of their tongues is messy and probing, like they’re trying to crawl inside each other.  His teeth sink into her lip, and all she can taste is her own blood and stale cigarettes and Jacob Jacob Jacob. 

His calloused hand is warm and heavy at her hip, his fingers sneaking under the hem of her tank-top. She arches into his searing touch, and her hands claw at his jacket, frantically trying to pull it from his shoulders. 

When they finally part, they both look utterly debauched. Flushed cheeks, pupils blown wide, a trail of spit still connecting them. Jacob’s field jacket is caught at his elbows and his dick strains against his jeans. Her tank-top rides over her chest, exposing her sports bra underneath. 

“You better make this worth my fuckin’ while,” Sybille breathes.

Rather than answering, Jacob just presses in for another devouring kiss, his hands undoing the clasp of her bra and exposing her breasts to the cold mountain air. 

#oc: deputy sybille la roux #r: fragile creatures #jacob seed x female deputy #jacob seed x deputy #far cry 5 fic #fc5 fic #was today a productive nano day? no not really #but i got groceries. did some art. and filled this prompt so i still did some creative stuff today #my fic

[kittycatlukey]

Far Cry 5 Preference: Wedding & Honeymoon

Joseph Seed:

•Wedding theme colors— Marigold Yellow, Navy Blue, and Slate Gray

•These theme color combinations are perfect for your and Joseph's wedding (in his church of course)! Yellow rose bouquets, navy blue bridesmaids dresses, Joseph and his groomsmen (John and Jacob) in navy blue suits, elegant slate gray tablecloths, etc.

•John being the marriage officiant.

•A huge wedding; everyone in Hope County invited

•Flowers— yellow roses with slate gray ribbons

•Small wedding cake with the Project at Eden's Gate symbol in the center

•Cloudy day, light rain

•You, John, and Faith are the decorators of this wedding, along with the most trustworthy peggies. As long as you have the three of you in charge, your wedding will be better than great! (Although they have to have their choice in some of the decorations, which you and Joseph don't mind). John would feel the need to have the most expensive everything, and Faith would want plants everywhere. John and Faith both would be in charge of the food. And Joseph wants absolutely no alcohol, with the exception of wine.

•Jacob has no part in decorating. You'll be lucky if he evens shows up, much less wear a tux. However, he would come for his baby brother, but would leave at the reception (no surprise there lmao).

•Honeymoon: Probably a place like Paris, France to go see the Eiffel Tower and explore museums

John Seed:

•Wedding theme colors— Mauve Purple, Cornflower Blue, and Petal Pink

•Sunny outdoor summer wedding: behind Joseph's church, near the river, or somewhere on a beach with white sand and clear water. The theme colors would look absolutely stunning, giving off an exquisite, elegant vibe!

•Joseph being the marriage officiant.

•A fairly big wedding; Eden's Gate members only and whoever you wanted to come, but would be broadcasted for the whole world to see because of one word: John

•BIG CHOCOLATE CAKE, John requested

•Big sign outside the church that said in big letters: "(Your name) SAID YES!"

•You, Joseph, and Faith are the decorators of this wedding. Faith would have pink Hydrangea flowers everywhere and Joseph would be in charge of the food, while Jacob would definitely not be in charge of anything. He would leave the wedding early, but would stay a little longer if there's whiskey or beer involved for sure. (Knowing John there's a 100% chance there'll be strong alcohol as long as the Father allows it, and definitely a 100% chance of wine.)

•Bridesmaid dresses would be mauve purple and groomsmen suits would be cornflower blue.

•John would make sure you get everything you want in your wedding; he wants you to be beyond happy! That's of utmost importance to him...

•Honeymoon: an expensive cruise or first class plane tickets to go to the Bahamas or some shit

Jacob Seed:

•Wedding theme colors— Forest Green, Ruby Red, Black, and Gold

•Your wedding in just a few words: Nature, Country, and Rustic Style

•Jacob in a Ruby Red suit, his groomsmen in Forest Green suits, you in a black dress/suit, and your bridesmaids/groomsmen would wear Gold dresses/suits

•Joseph being the marriage officiant.

•No cake, but Jacob would settle for a small one if you wanted

•Wedding venue: somewhere in the Whitetail Mountains. The color themes play up the natural surroundings of Jacob's region and brings the classy, yet country look

•Long orangish-red wood tables and chairs Jacob made himself with swags of greenery, black vases, black candles, black candleholders, and gold drapery.

•Jacob and you agreed on a small wedding: just him, you, Joseph, Faith, John, and your closest friends/family. That's it. No Project at Eden's Gate members, which disappointed the Father but Jacob didn't care.

•You, Faith, and surprisingly Jacob doing most of the decorating. Much to Faith's dismay, you would have black roses (she wanted white). Faith had fairy lights strung everywhere which everyone loved, and John had fifteen bottles of expensive champagne and a bottle of Jack Daniels whiskey for Jacob that he snuck in (of course everyone would be either tipsy or hammered, except Joseph).

•Honeymoon: a cabin with a lake for fishing

Faith Seed:

•Wedding theme colors— White, Peach, Sage Green, and Watermelon Pink

•These colors are vibrant, cheerful, and gorgeous just like Faith. It matches perfectly with her personality!

•The wedding being in Joseph's church or behind it beside the lake.

•A medium sized cake with bliss flowers decorated on it

•Joseph being the marriage officiant.

•You in a white suit or dress and Faith in a white dress. Sage green bridesmaid dresses and/or groomsmen suits, peach pink bouquets wrapped in watermelon pink ribbons. White candles and white candleholders, watermelon pink flowers everywhere, plants scattered in various places, sage green drapes, picnic tables with fruit baskets in the center, outdoor string lights in every spot imaginable, and more.

•No alcohol

•A big, big wedding with all Eden's Gate members invited, even some resistance members, but she doubted they would come

•Honeymoon: a beach or an amusement park with big roller coasters and ferris wheels

Joey Hudson:

•Joey wouldn't want to get married but you would go on vacation together a whole lot! Your personal favorite being Mauritius (Mascarene Islands). Luxury hotels, white sandy beaches, and there is many fun things to do there! The two of you would often watch sunsets, party/drink, try surfing and pay for lessons, and would go parasailing once just to try it. You're an adventurous couple and would be down for anything that's for sure!

Staci Pratt:

•Wedding theme colors: Baby Blue, Buttercream Yellow, and Lavender

•This color combo provides a mature, simple, and exciting vibe!

•Wedding would be family and friends only, along with resistance members and the Hope County Police Department

•Large cake with a silicone mould of your hands laced together on top. Buttercream Macaroons!

•You and Joey Hudson would be the decorators. You wanted a gazebo to get married under if it was being held at the beach.

•Wedding would be somewhere on a beach or in Pastor Jerome's church.

•Sheriff Whitehorse or Pastor Jerome being the marriage officiant.

•Bridgemaid/Groomsmen dresses/suits would be baby blue

•Staci in a lavender suit and you in a lavender suit/dress as well!

•Buttercream yellow tulip bouquet and lily flowers in vases at the reception.

•Honeymoon: a concert to your favorite singer/band!

#faith seed #jacob seed #far cry 5 #john seed #joseph seed #the father #farcry 5 #fc5 #fc5 deputy #hope county #seedlings #joey hudson #staci pratt #fc5 fanfic #farcrygame #far cry five #far cry fandom #far cry 5 oc #farcry5preference #fc5 fic #fc5 screenshots #fc5 ocs #drabble #imagine #preferences #hope county montana #far cry 3 #far cry 6 #far cry series #far cry new dawn

[deputy-morgan-malone]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Far Cry 5, Far Cry (Video Games) Rating: General Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Female Deputy | Judge/Joseph Seed, Deputy | Judge/Joseph Seed Characters: Joseph Seed, Deputy | Judge (Far Cry), Female Deputy | Judge (Far Cry) Additional Tags: Christmas, Holiday, Holidays, Gifts Summary:

An Eden's Gate Christmas, and the art of compromise.

#joseph x morgan #fc5 fic #morgan fic #joseph seed #project at eden's gate #christmas #gifts #phsl fic #fic #winter holidays #au fic #aus #christmas fic

[chaos-smh]

True Faith

a/n: A FC5 drabble I found in my drafts. It isn’t proof-read and the story may be a bit all over the place. Apologies if it’s hard to follow but I enjoyed writing it. First post! ♡

pairing/s: Seed!family x original child!character

content: mentions of abuse, death and depression

word count: 1,117 words

driven by her own hatred and guilt, lilith finally gives in. her mind and soul crumbled beneath the seed family as she struggles to come to terms with her new life. the road ahead of her never looked more rocky

A humble light fluttered through the warmth of the room, settling like golden blossoms on each piece of ornate yet soft furniture it seemed to drift over. The faint yet inviting aroma of food mixed with the steady chorus of chatter accompanied the gentle glow, enveloping the dining room in a fuzz which seemed foreign and distant to the young and demure girl. Her milky white skin seemed sickly against the welcoming shine of the overhead light and her reluctant yet bitter attitude felt like a stranger to the intimate scene. The past few days had seemed to bleed together with a crude series of events leaving a stinging imprint on the mind of the girl, abandoning her thoughts with a potent mixture of guilt and grief; something which was far from the joyous occasion of the Sunday dinner. Lilith's quivering hands folded neatly in her lap, the bruised ends of her fingers gently toying with the icy fabric of her light floral dress. The youthful garment felt pretty in the young girls eyes however, the length exposed pale legs with a colourful array of marks and bruises splattered like paint across her shins. It was embarrassing - the memory of what had happened seemed as fresh as the grazes on her knees.

A gentle breeze pulled the girl back to reality with the subtle chime of plates and cutlery diverting her attention back towards the delicately garnished dining table. Flowers of the garden were intertwined down the centre of the white cloth, the subtle arrangement of lilies and pure roses seeming to settle the bitter sting of fear which had risen within the young girl. It reminded Lilith of the bouquets that she would gift to her mother whilst she was sick but it was enough to bring a small yet meaningful smile to her gentle face. Even if those moments lingered deep in the past, it was the only proof that the girl had a life before whatever twisted situation she found herself in the present and it was a world she could seem to escape to when in her darkest moments. One which was simpler and devoid of not just complexity of growing pains and the ache of grief but also the Seed family.

The smile on the young girls face seem to falter as her pale eyes drifted across the plate in front of her which was positioned neatly on an intricate lace placemat. It was different, they didn't trust her. Plastic cutlery was presented on each side of the plate with even the knife missing from the set and the food was organised with each portion pre-cut and determined. Her stomach sunk as heat pricked at her skin in a mixture of embarrassment but also anger; she couldn't pretend that all was well when chains still resided around her wrists, binding her deep under the control of the family. Lilith broke from her position on the wooden chair with her trembling hands slamming down on the embellished table as her legs wobbled beneath her. Her actions were quickly followed by a more dominant and abrupt force as the oldest of the three brothers reared up, looming over her broken and frightened figure from the opposite side of the table.

Silence shrouded the table as the outburst disrupted the warmth, covering the table in a dense fog of tension which clouded the young girls thoughts and pricked at her soft eyes. The familiar sting of tears grazed her like the skid of innocent knees against concrete as a fractured series of sobs cracked through her empty chest.

"Jacob - Lilith calm down, come with me."

The gentle yet unusual voice of the Father simmered through the ears of the young girl as she felt his scarred hand sink into her own. She could feel herself being quietly ushered away from the decorated scene of the family, her tired feet aching to find a purpose in the woven carpet as tears pooled deep in her wounds. It was a familiar sting which Lilith could easily recall, it was similar to those moments where she was escorted from the classroom because the bruises that day were too dark. It wasn't the conversation which would hurt, it was the embarrassment that resided within it. A distasteful grunt broke the silence which she had left as the sparse murmur of voices seeped through the dining room in her absence. Tears continued to spill from within her pallid eyes as she was settled down against the kitchen counter, the cluttered surface matching the unsettling comfort which seemed to spread through the house. Lilith's hands quivered as they curled deep within the patterned fabric of her dress, her cloudy eyes following each twitch and flicker of her fingers as they desperately attempted to avoid contact with the Father.

"I- I hate- it here!" She sobbed out, her voice rupturing through her throat in a strained cry; one which was clearly distinguishable by any lingering ears. It seemed as if her heart had leaked through her words after what had felt like weeks of swallowing all of her toxic emotions, yet the ache didn't seem to go away.

"I just wanna' fucking go home!"

A firm pair of hands graced Lilith's flushed face yet the invasion felt almost welcoming and warm, she had expected the hands of man so detached and sadistic to match that of the winter storm which ruptured through her mind - but they didn't.

"Lily," Joseph hushed as he grazed his thumbs across the soft scarlet skin of the young girl, catching the tears which cascaded from her eyes.

"God saw a light within you, one which will thrive and burn bright."

Lilith could feel her heavy head guided up the Father's hands with the wet stains residing on her blushed skin shimmering beneath the golden glow of the overhead light, softening her look of distress.

"You're journey has not been an easy one but God has given you a chance, we're here to guide you."

All the young girl could bring herself to do was utter a gentle nod with the calculated words of the Father sinking deep into her thoughts; the prophecy that he had manufactured disturbed her, she couldn't allow herself to think that she was so special.

"No matter how much you are apart of this family and today, I will not allow you to sit in there and suffer like you are," Joseph admitted in a reasoned voice, the tone of his words seeming to falter ever so slightly from its usual mannerism.

"Why don't you go into the sitting room, we'll join you when we're finished little-one."

#far cry 5 #far cry tag #far cry fanfiction #far cry fandom #joseph seed #jacob seed #john seed #faith seed #fanfic #orginal character #jacob seed x oc #Joseph seed x oc #john seed x oc #faith seed x oc #far cry #far cry x oc #child!reader #writing #hope county #fc5 fic #fc5 fandom #fc5 ocs

[werewolfrookie]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Far Cry 5, Far Cry (Video Games) Rating: Mature Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence Relationships: Male Deputy | Judge/Jacob Seed, Miller/Jacob Seed Characters: Jacob Seed, Miller (Far Cry) Additional Tags: Cannibalism, Minor Deputy | Judge/Jacob Seed, miller lives, Not Beta Read, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon-Typical Violence Summary:

When Jacob looks back up at the deputy’s face he’s shocked by the pure anger in the man's pale blue eyes, and for a moment Jacob feels like he’s back in the desert staring back at a similar pair of eyes.

or

Miller somehow survives and moves to Hope County to become a Deputy.

#far cry #far cry 5 #fc5 fic #fc5 #jacob seed

[wrathfulrook]

Holy Mary, Mother of God

Summary: As Staci suffers under Jacob and the cult, he turns back to his religion. Every day he prays to the Holy Mother, both to beg her help and to remind himself that he is not a Peggie.

Rating: M

Word Count: ~1.2k

Read it on ao3.

Staci hadn’t been to Mass in years, since he had moved out of his parents’ house. He hadn’t been to confession in even longer, not since he was confirmed. He didn’t remember the last time he prayed. Not that he didn’t believe. He did. He had Faith. He just wasn’t very observant.

Maybe this was his punishment.

While going through his trials, mindlessly killing and fighting for his life, he considered that he had died in the helicopter crash and had gone to hell. It made sense. Spending his time alert starved and thirsty in a cage under the hot sun, his time in the trials a thoughtless red haze of blood and death.

He’d prayed for the first time in a long time. Initially to God, but then to St. Sebastian. In middle school, Staci had chosen Sebastian as his confirmation saint for no other reason than that he was the patron saint of athletes and that he had survived the first attempt on his life. Staci just thought he was cool. Though, once he heard the name “Staci Sebastian” spoken aloud for the first time in front of the entire parish, he felt it was significantly less cool. And he never gave too much thought to his confirmation saint afterwards.

But throughout his trials he prayed to the saint for strength. If St. Sebastian could survive being tied to a tree and used for target practice, he could survive this ordeal. He could be strong. And so he was.

After the trials, the physical torture stopped, but Staci didn’t feel any relief. Any one slip-up, a single display of weakness, and he would be reclassified as meat. And he was under far more scrutiny than the average resident of the vet center. Jacob kept him close, made him his personal assistant. He was always there, always watching. Staci was supposed to be strong but submissive, a fine line to walk.

He didn’t pray to St. Sebastian too much after his trials. He didn’t pray to God much either. The Peggies prayed to the same God, and something about that didn’t sit right with Staci. Instead, he prayed to Mary. The Peggies didn’t care about St. Mary. Protestants never did. So Staci directed his prayers to the holy mother of God.

He started every morning with a silent Hail Mary and a request that she protect him, that she look after him. His thoughts turned to the sinless, virgin mother every time Jacob knocked him around, every time he suffered. And he suffered a lot as Jacob’s assistant. And he witnessed even more suffering. Every time he passed the cages, every time he witnessed bodies carried out of their trials, tied to posts for target practice, or fed to the wolves, he asked Mary to watch out for them, to ensure their suffering was taken into account, weighed against their time to be spent in Purgatory.

And every night, to help himself fall asleep despite the sounds of screams and howls of wolves he never got used to, he prayed the Rosary, keeping count on his fingers since he didn’t have the beads. And it always worked; he fell soundly asleep long before he reached final Mystery. But more than that, it brought him comfort. He didn’t remember every Mystery. He couldn’t recite the Apostle’s Creed. But he did as much as he could, and he tried. And it was something the Peggies never did. Not even Joseph, their beloved “Father,” prayed the Rosary, despite wearing the beads as some sort of blasphemous accessory.

No. Staci wasn’t like them and they weren’t like him. He was Catholic. His Faith had clear rules and doctrine and hierarchy. Something so horrible as the Project at Eden’s Gate could never happen in the Catholic Church. A priest goes as bonkers as Joseph? The bishop steps in. And the parish would never let their priest turn out like Joseph, because deviations from the Catechism wouldn’t be tolerated. It was all so clear. Every question had a clear, prescribed answer. And if you followed the hierarchy to the top, the Pope spoke directly with the Holy Spirit. He wasn’t a mad man claiming divine knowledge. He was official, appointed, and bound within the limits of the role.

You simply couldn’t make a crazy Catholic cult. Every cult he’d ever heard of was made up of Protestants. Staci never like Protestantism for that very reason. It was all so fluid and subjective. It never seemed like any two churches, even of the same denomination, were on the same page. That’s how people like Joseph happened. That’s how Staci ended up in this position.

They could do a whole lot to him. But they could never make him a Peggie. Not really, not in his heart.

He wished he was stronger. Maybe Jacob was right. Maybe he was weak. He wanted to be strong enough, brave enough, to pray the Rosary out loud. He wanted to tell Jacob no when he dragged him along to services. He wanted to stand up for his own beliefs and stay strong and unwavering as he was literally thrown to the wolves. He wished he had the balls to stand up and die a martyr.

But that’s where he and his confirmation saint differed. Staci could never stay strong when staring down the barrel of a gun. He couldn’t resist the conditioning Jacob subjected him to. And he couldn’t make himself assert his true beliefs, not when he’s seen what happens to the people who don’t even do anything to make the Herald angry. He was weak.

So, he prayed for forgiveness. He prayed for strength. He asked Mary to intervene on his behalf, to ask her Son to show him mercy, to help him in some way, any way.

No help ever came.

And maybe he was dead after all? Not in Hell, like he’d initially thought. Maybe this was Purgatory. He suffered so much that it had to be for a reason. Maybe this was the suffering he must endure to cleanse his soul, to finally be worthy of Heaven. If this was Purgatory, it was working. He was becoming a better person. He was less of an asshole, just quiet and empathetic. He prayed multiple times a day. Wasn’t Purgatory supposed to bring you closer to God? Staci had never been more religious than now. Maybe because he was dead.

He hoped so. He hoped this was Purgatory so that when it was finally over, when he’d finally atoned for all his sins in life, he could go to Heaven. Never to suffer again. He hoped this was Purgatory so that it wasn’t really happening to others. So that there were no people in cages back in Hope County, that no one was being fed alive to wolves. He hoped that this was all being done for his benefit, to make his soul pure again, to ready him for eternal life in Heaven.

But he couldn’t be sure. So, just in case, he prayed.

#my stuff #staci pratt #far cry 5 #far cry 5 fic #fc5 #fc5 fic

[looklikeapencil]

CH 04. True Witness Revelation 1:19

Word Count: 1.7k Warning(s): very brief mention of child abuse Summary: The local newspaper editor, Brad, reflects on his first meeting with John Seed and John's friend, Sibylla.

CH 05. Beasts of the Earth Revelation 6:7-8

Word Count: 1.7k Warning(s): canon-typical violence, brief description of dead bodies and decomposition Summary: After learning of her colleague's fate, the Deputy makes the trek to Fall's End.

CH 06. The Flock John 10:14-16

Word Count: 1.5k Warning(s): N/A Summary: Jerome takes care of the Deputy and she wakes up to disturbing news which adds fuel to the fire.

want to start at the beginning?

#far cry 5 #fc5 #fc5 fanfic #fc5 fic #john seed fic #far cry #P.S. the smut scenes are being edited as we speak #see the ch 6 note to see when u can expect them ;) #fun fact: sibylla is inspired by all the gross christian fundie girls out there #who spew toxic BS and will never have the capability to self-reflect and change #*ficwriting

[skoll-sun-eater]

Tagged by @cassietrn Thank you for including me! ^__^

Tagging @thewanderer-000 @josephseedismyfather No pressure to play.

Jenavieve and Phedra, the moods are gonna be switchin up a little for them in "Revelations for the red horseman's daughter."

The role of Deputy is getting to Phedra.

Whereas Jenavieve is finding strength to overcome all that she has gone thru.

https://picrew.me/en/image_maker/111486

#oc picrew #fc5 fic #my ocs #oc phedra dawson #oc jenavieve seed

[killyourrdarlingss]

✂️ Do you Regret it?

Far cry 5 || Dennis Dustin Monroe/Joseph Seed

Rated T - for now.

In which I write something self indulgent, if you wanna see images of Dennis look in my "Dennis Dustin Monroe" tag :))!

Based on that one fanart I saw of Joseph that @ratisshortforratalia showed me and I kind of went a bit feral tbqh. ♥️

-

-

-

It feels weird now since Dennis cut his hair to the scalp and looking in the mirror makes the back of his neck cold. The man beside him had his hair down, its longer now and curled at the nape and Dennis, if having not been stuck in the bunker with him for years now would have thought it beautiful on the man, and commented; If he hadn't already said it the year prior.

His attention flickers, runs his fingers through the short strands on impulse. He can feel the other looking at him, probably knowing well what was running through his head, he says it aloud anyway, Joseph didn't need to, but, so little things to pass the time, talking had benefits.

He clears his throat, eyes darting towards the mirror first before turning to Dennis with a small air of impression,

"You regret it?" and Dennis is never good at getting used to his voice, something today which makes him sound more tired than usual, dark bags under his eyes as he turns to him. A small smile on his face, obviously ingenuine and he shakes his head soon after Joseph finishes the last word.

"Maybe," and he looks up into his eyes, beforehand something which would have shaken him to his core but now seemed so normal to do, daily learned things between the two of them that seemed impossible before. "how about you?"

and it doesn't take him aback at all, but there is a small window of process that happens before Joseph hums. Dennis feeling some sort of pride having made him think about something longer than usual.

"Yes," and Dennis huffs a laugh at it, he wants to be accusatory, his first thought to maybe argue on why he was right for hacking off sixteen inches of dead hair off his head.

"This... doesn't feel like you."

Dennis' thoughts stop for a moment, the hand tucking a very badly snipped piece of hair behind his ear freezing. That wasn't what he was expecting, no not at all, and the slight jolt through his body, primarily inside his chest made him want to leave the bathroom all together and hole up in his room for a few days. Not that it would make any difference to either of them, the days passed so fast it made his head spin. Much like his current heartrate.

He moves the hand to his mouth and suppresses a sigh, closing his eyes for a brief moment, running his fingers over the slowly fading tattoos across his face.

"Thanks." and he's not sure what else to say to him but Joseph has stepped closer and replaced the hand that was in his hair with his own; warm, Dennis thinks and has to swallow the word.

Dennis looks up even if he can feel the weight slowly lulling him, "What...?"

and Joseph shakes his head and Dennis raises an eyebrow because the bunker still hasn't made him any less cryptic of a man. Though, sometimes he wished. He amuses himself until sliding the hand to the side of his face and Dennis on instinct shuts his eyes and leans in.

-

He's in less clothes laid back on his-- currently their bed and if anything he wishes he has a cigarette, a habit he kicked by necessity years ago but he thought it might help in the moment. Instead he grabs one of the pencils on the bedside table and chews on the end of it.

'How's that for addiction?' he thinks to himself, looking over towards where Joseph lay asleep, hair sprawled over the pillow, chest rising and falling and Dennis is jealous of him. Sure, he impulse chopped all of his hair off, none of that was Joseph's fault but if he thought about it, no everything was kind of his fault so maybe he could blame this one on him again.

Reaching out and threading his fingers through his hair wasn't though, and if he didn't convince himself he needed to do it, he was sure it would be another one of his learnt behaviors. Not like Joseph cared, to a degree at least. He barely stirs as he leans up, lets his hair fall from his fingers.

He sets down the placebo on the table, a sigh. He's not tired, sleeping passed time mostly and he wanted to do anything besides it. Instead he pushes himself up grabs his discarded pants on the way out and tugs them on.

Any other place, time or day, he would feel he was being judged for this. Thankfully, nobody else besides Joseph was here with him, and if he decided to be guilt ridden about fucking him that was on him. Dennis would bring it up one day, he liked watching him fumble about with his words and end the conversation with the indicative

"We both need it."

Dennis swiped his tongue over his lips at the thought.

#dennis dustin Monroe #Joseph seed #joseph seed x oc #ehhhh idk if i rly wanna tag this too much 🤔😮‍💨 #far cry 5 #ok that's good enough. #gothiewrites #fc5 fic #joseph seed x deputy

[small-bean-bag]

He grabbed the gun. - And what's the truth? She gave him a pitiful smile. - This won't end. There is no, win, for me or you or Joseph. Either you kill me now or I'll kill you. But it doesn't matter, history will repeat itself. He loaded the gun. - You're crazier than I am. - he shaking his head, walked up to her. - You're not crazy, Seed, - she protested. - Misguided, untreated, manipulated... But not crazy. I repeated this too many times to know it. - "Repeated it". – he huff-laughed. – If only it was that simple. She made a short laugh. - It's no fun, Jacob, it's a pure torment. Doing the same thing, over and over again. But you're welcome to try. He raised the gun. - I might give it a shot. - Then, - she smiled. - See you on the other side. He pulled the trigger. --- The alarm clock woke him up.

Chapter 1

Read on Ao3

Rating: M

Paring: Jacob Seed x Female Deputy

Warnings: Canon-Typical Violence, Major character death (but not really), Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Implied/Referenced Torture

Author’s note under the cut.

A/N: Long story short, personal life fucking kicked me hard together with writing block.  This was started as a stupid “what if“ but turned into a blast of fun to writing, so I thought  to publish it. Mostly inspired by “Palm Springs“ (2020) but except for the concept of two people trapped in a time loop, has nothing income with it. I’ll probably update this more often.

I hope you’ll enjoy it, and thank you for reading ^^

#Far Cry 5 #far cry 5 fanfic #far cry 5 fanfiction #FC5 #fc5 fic #fc5 fanfic #jacob seed x female deputy #jacob seed

[strafethesesinners]

Mini Fic time part 2!

Prompt sent in by @cobb-vanthss thank you!! I hope I wrote Rick ok!

Prompt: “Bear hug” for Cooper and Rick

“McCoy, could I have a word?” Rick asked. Cooper finished off the last of his beer, setting the glass down on the bar.

“Yeah, sure thing.”

He followed Rick out of the Spread Eagle into the cool evening. He plucked a cigarette from its pack and stuck it in his mouth before offering the pack to Rick.

“No thanks,” Rick said, holding a hand up, “not right now.”

Cooper shrugged and returned the pack to his back jeans pocket before lighting his cigarette.

“So what’s up?” He said, blowing out a stream of smoke.

“Well…uh,” Rick coughed uncomfortably, and Cooper, thinking it was because of the smoke, quickly took his cigarette and dropped it, crushing it under the heel of his cowboy boot. Rick looked at the ground and scuffed the toe of his own cowboy boot against the gravel of the alley, before looking back up at Cooper, who was waiting expectantly.

“Look, I don’t really know how to say this…”

Cooper’s heart fluttered. He thought he knew what Rick was about to say and he couldn’t pretend he hadn’t been looking forward to it for a while now. Rick was probably the most attractive man Cooper had ever met. He had been a little standoffish, around Cooper anyway, so Cooper had given him space, only flirting lightly here and there. Plus Rick was a U.S. Marshal so Cooper had every reason to avoid him. But now Rick was about to reveal his own attraction to Cooper so they could finally get things going.

“It’s cool,” he prompted after Rick had said nothing for several minutes, “say whatever you wanna say….”

“I know who you are,” Rick said suddenly.

“Uhh, yeah? I’m Cooper,” Cooper laughed.

“You didn’t even change your name,” Rick gave him a pained sort of look.

“Why would I….what?”

Realization crashed over Cooper like an icy wave. Rick knew who he was. Rick was a U.S. Marshal…Rick knew who he was. Cooper swallowed, sweat gathering on his palms as the two stared at each other.

“Oh.” Cooper said.

“Oh,” Rick echoed with a nod.

Cooper’s heart thudded for an entirely different reason now. He couldn’t go to prison. He just couldn’t. But he didn’t want to have to hurt Rick either. He waited.

“What uh, so what um..” he began when Rick said nothing.

“Well I really wasn’t sure at first to tell you the truth,” Rick said, “by all rights I oughta arrest you now, turn you in when this is all done with.”

Cooper swallowed again.

“But,” Rick continued

“But?”

“Yeah but. I see how much good you do for these folks around here and how much they need you against this…this cult and well….I ain’t gonna do it. I ain’t gonna arrest you.”

“Wait….really?” Relief blazed through Cooper.

“Really.” Rick said with a smile.

“Wow! Thank you I mean,” Cooper grinned, “that’s real decent of you, man. C’mere.”

And he wrapped his arms around Rick, pulling him into a bone-breaking hug.

“Oof,” Rick huffed, thoroughly surprised. Cooper hung onto him for several minutes before breaking off the hug, laughing.

“You’re a good guy, Rick.”

“Am I?”

“Real good. Let me buy you a beer.”

“Alright then,” Rick smiled again. “This is just for now you know,” he warned as they walked back inside, “I might still arrest you when this is all done with.”

“Yeah yeah,” Cooper said, “you’re welcome to try.”

#oc: Cooper McCoy #Rick Cain #far cry 5 oc #friend’s ocs #far cry 5 #fc5 fic #not my best I admit but hope it’s still fun