john 1:9

❝ We must atone. ❞ John Seed private fandom only personals do not follow ➫ ABOUT ➫ RULES ➫ VERSE ✈ ✈ ✈

[hollypepper]

[sacramentalis]

@iscariotsdeputy asked: "don’t call me that, please!" lucifer sentence starters || accepting

      It's a common word in the Seed household, one little John hears his father use against his mother so often that, in the child's mind, it has effectively become her name second to ‘momma’. If not for Jacob's patient, corrective discipline every time he's heard his baby brother repeat the word, John might never know just how offensive it is. That's why he uses it against Staci when he perceives his classmate's harmless tease as a genuine slight.

      “Why? You're a baby,” the Seed boy replies, crossing his arms as obstinate children do. “Why do you care? Don't your folks say it to each other all the time?”

[paegn]

一個暴君，注定要失敗。

TYRANT, n. ( /ˈtīrənt/ )

 1.     a cruel and oppressive ruler.

 2.    pagan min, written by jett, est. january 2019.

[sacramentalis]

@troublebringer​

      “Hm..” a simple hum as Emery's correction turns over in John's head. Her words settle in his ego -- a place inhospitable to impressions that he might be wrong about something. John does not like being wrong about anything. No, he certainly does not. And if Emery's got a sharp eye, she'll see it in the way that his shoulders tense slightly. A stretch of the neck muscles, a forced chuckle. His back remains turned to her, fingers still feeling the cool touch of each implement as he tries to concoct a response that will indicate he knew what he was talking about and that she's taught him nothing. Such is the way of the narcissist.

      I will tell you what we think of psychism, the Confessor wants to say, a clear promise of pain and suffering to come. But Emery's questions stop him before he can.

      Always questioning, never just listening.

      It's the amalgamation of her indestructible obstinacy, her denial to surrender her service dog to the Project for conditioning, her disrespect, her EVERYTHING that finally pushes John over the edge; a harsh clatter fills the room as the tools are violently swept off the table, bouncing and careening and settling in places all across the floor. A wildly disproportionate reaction to her simple questions, surely. The Confessor pivots to face Emery.

      Despite his frustration, John's voice never raises into a shout, “It is all fairy tale, Emery. You are not a seer because God has empowered only one man with such capabilities. Your ‘fortune-telling’ is a product of demonic manifestation -- and that's precisely why you are sitting in that chair. You must be cleansed. I only want to help you, Emery. You have to stop fighting it.” A careful inhale. Mentally, he's reaching for his slipped mask. Control yourself. John hates that she's managed to rile him and he hates that she now knows it too. But he supposes in a matter of minutes it will be the last thing running through her mind.

      A throbbing pain gnaws at his ankle, reminding him that it's injured and that he will have to be careful on it during her session. The Herald looks down at the mess he's created in his anger and sighs.

      “Look what you've made me do,” he murmurs, turning his back to her to gather up the few repair tools and medical instruments that have settled on the floor near him.

[sacramentalis]

[iscariotsdeputy, staci vc: relax im just joking!!] [ mock ] your muse mocking mine.

Violent muse reactions (accepting) @iscariotsdeputy

      He can feel it. All ten pairs of eyes on him, burning into him, measuring his reaction to the deputy's satirical remark. If a career as a lawyer hadn't equipped John with the remarkable ability to retain his poise even in the face of social hardship or, in this case, enraging humiliation, then he's not so sure he would be walking away from this social gathering having impressed these onlookers with patience. His goal tonight is to network, make new friends. Not create enemies. Take it on the chin, the Seed warns himself. For now.

      John tilts his head upward, as of a highly monarch, smiling to conceal the true rage broiling just beneath his elegant surface. Oh Yes, he's committing this to memory. Staci will regret ever having raised a disparaging word to him. John drops his gaze to the champagne flute in his hand, recalibrating, swirling the liquid around but never sipping from it. When he looks at Staci again his smile has only strengthened -- and yet it still fails to reach his dead eyes.

      “Of course you are joking, Eustace. Your jokes are very funny; I have to wonder why you're a cop and not a professional comedian.”

[sacramentalis]

*quietly slides in* [ bare ]

Violent muse reactions (accepting) [ bare ]   your muse baring their teeth at mine @merchantofwhispers

      By any standard, Gemina is not to be made light of. Feles Sanguine, the flavorful name turns over in John's head like it's roasting on a spit, as though he might be learning segments of the species' history with each iteration. Feles Sanguine. Was it her kind that named itself or is there a headstone somewhere out in the world that might belong to the scientist who did? And that begs the question: How far back does her species date? Centuries? Millenia? A strange phenomenon indeed; he can't recall the name ever being mentioned in the Bible.

      So many questions, but John prioritizes none of them. Not when she's giving him this look.       The Confessor tsks.

      “Are you flirting with me, Ms Volarious?”

[zaffyrr]

@iscariotsdeputy and I were talking about a fc5/dbh crossover with (human) Deputy Connor and I really dig the idea of him and Staci being best buds 👀

[on Redbubble]

[amourmemes]

❥     𝐕𝐈𝐎𝐋𝐄𝐍𝐓  𝐌𝐔𝐒𝐄   𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐂𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍   𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐌𝐏𝐓𝐒   .

another meme inspired by devotedecay’s format !     tw  for  violence, blood, mature themes. send  in  one  of  these  for  my  muse’s  reaction  to  … (  add  ❝  reverse  ❞   if  you’d  like  to  see  how  my  muse  would  preform  the  action  !  )

[ deck ]   your muse decking mine in the face.

[ punch ]   your muse punching mine anywhere / or specify.

[ pin ]   your muse forcibly pinning my muse beneath them.

[ straddle ]   your muse forcing mine to the ground and straddling them.

[ scratch ]   your muse raking mine with their nails / claws.

[ bite ]   your muse biting mine.

[ turn ]   your muse rolling from beneath to atop my muse.

[ wall ]   your muse pinning mine against a wall.

[ snarl ]   your muse snarling / growling at mine.

[ curse ]   your muse cursing at / cursing mine out.

[ tug ]   your muse gripping mine’s hair.

[ kick ]   your muse kicking mine anywhere / or specify.

[ point + gun ]   your muse holding mine at gun point.

[ point + knife ]   your muse holding mine at knife point.

[ mock ]   your muse mocking mine.

[ sweep ]   your muse knocking mine off their feet.

[ grab ]   your muse grabbing mine forcibly.

[ shoot ]   your muse shooting my muse anywhere / or specify.

[ stab ]   your muse stabbing my muse anywhere / or specify.

[ break ]   your muse breaking any of mine’s bones / or specify.

[ strangle ]   your muse choking mine out.

[ shove ]   your muse shoving mine forcibly.

[ bruise ]   your muse making mine bruise.

[ under ]   your muse shoving mine underwater.

[ attempt ]   your muse attempting to kill mine.

[ bare ]   your muse baring their teeth at mine.

[ threaten ]   your muse threatening mine.

[ spit ]   your muse making mine spit blood.

[ bleed ]   your muse making mine bleed.

[ burn ]   your muse burning mine.

[ corner ]   your muse cornering mine.

[ throat ]   your muse wrapping a hand around mine’s throat.

[ challenge ]   your muse challenging mine.

[ cut ]   your muse cutting mine.

[kaidansalenkos-remade]

“All I could say was... Yes.”

[oldfarmhousefallfeatures]

foggy✨evening stroll

http://www.instagram.com//babes_in_boyland

[musingisms]

“I think manipulation is the greatest art of them all”

— (via mecixan)

[sacramentalis]

@malgatillo

[naughtyandnicerpmemes]

The feeling of someone being genuinely interested in you as both a friend and roleplay partner is 😃

[sacramentalis]

I’m on the fence about making a Vaas blog with Santiago as a side character. thoughts? 🤔

[sacramentalis]

🌺 tending to some flowers. ( new dawn uwu. )

Symbol prompts || accepting@heavenlyexiled

      The Foxhole. John could get used to spending his time at a settlement where his presence is appreciated – God knows his home at Prosperity doesn’t always feel welcoming. He can think of a hundred reasons why Elizabeth is a better matriarch than Kim Rye – the first of which is her ability to look at him and not see some loathsome creature, but to see him for all of the noble that he was in the past. A Herald. The Confessor. A man responsible for saving hundreds – if not thousands! – of souls that had been otherwise destined for the flames of eternal damnation. A saint, perhaps. Even if this is not the way Elizabeth would describe him, it would certainly constitute the first line of his auto-biography.

      “Why even bother planting flowers? They’re useless,” John tucks his hands into his coat pockets and scrutinizes Elizabeth’s work. Ever the gentleman, he is. “It’s more practical to use this space for farming. Tomatoes? Cabbage? What are we going to do with flowers? Give them to the Highwaymen when they inevitably find and attack this place? That’s not going to be a very effective peace offering.” He gives her a mean grin, intentionally prodding at her sensibilities with his words.

[sacramentalis]

{ ▼ } —- your muse is injured. my muse is there to help. - Abby

Random Drabble Prompts || accepting @gqdsgift

      The virgin islands would have been John's choice of vacation. Instead, he's stuck in an Indonesian archipelago where catching a person's eye will either elicit a fist fight or a proposition for a "good time" (perhaps back in Hope County this would be ideal for a man of his sexual and sadistic desires, but he certainly wants nothing to do with the locals on Rook Island.)

      “I don't need your help,” John snaps, shrugging away her hand and attempting to play off his limp like he's kicking dirt off the toe of his boot. He isn't sure if the cracking sound he'd heard was a branch beneath his boot or his actual ankle, but between the five sticky golden webs he'd walked through and the various reptilian hisses that seem to follow them through the thick brush he wants to spend not a minute longer in this godforsaken jungle.

      “How long until we reach his compound? You know, this business arrangement would be a lot easier if Vaas came to us.”

[kv4i]