#blissfulxpride

[bledsins]

As it turns out, the Deputy was full of surprises. After handing Hudson off to a couple of his guards with the strict instruction to keep her on a tight leash, John had returned to find her right where he’d left her. Part of him had wanted her to get loose so he could get a better handle on what drove her coupled with the thrill of the chase that it brought. Not since Mary May and the debacle with her brother had a Marked given him so much trouble. But there she was, sat almost docile in the chair. If he was a lesser man, it would’ve thrown him off-balance, but instead he took it in his stride and breezed past where the Deputy sat, making sure his shirt sleeves remained where he’d rolled them to. “I do apologise for the wait, I think Deputy Hudson fears for your safety.” The amusement in his tone could almost be mistaken for fondness...almost, but not quite. There’s an undertone there, a hit of boredom at the way Hudson constantly fights and resists. There’s no threat hanging over John’s head with her like there was with the Deputy, he could just kill her and be done with it, but she was a useful bargaining chip. 

He turns on his heel, the smile on his lips soft and reassuring -- the fact that it doesn’t quite reach his eyes is irrelevant. “Her fears are unfounded, I assure you.” His tone remains soft, calm, friendly. “Only those souls that are unwilling to give up their sin fear Confession, and I have to assume that she is one of those souls.” A pause as he hooks his foot around the base of a simple padded stool , wheeling it in front of the Deputy’s chair and only breaking eye contact briefly as he sat down on it. Immediately it positions him on her level instead of looming over her, the need for intimidation tactics behind them now that he’d got the magic word he’d been after. “But you? Oh Deputy, you have taken the most important step down the right path. And you have nothing to fear.” There’s a glee dancing somewhere deep in his eyes as his smile grows, almost genuine. That is, of course, as long as she doesn’t decide to change her mind and fight back. That would, indeed, be unfortunate. For the both of them. John wasn’t going to let that happen. There was no way he would let his most important Confession slip out of his grasp because she suddenly decided to dig her heels in. 

The childish part of him wishes to contact Joseph, to boast that he’s got the Deputy walking the path to Atonement -- but Pride comes before a fall, and God likes to remind him of that by humbling him before his older brother. No, he’s not going to risk it until he’s wrung every last sin from the woman in front of him, until he’s made sure she’s fully ready to Atone for them. “So where do we begin, Deputy?” This is the first test, a character assessment of sorts. Give people enough rope and eventually they’ll hang themselves, but the length varied from person to person -- that was what John was trying to gauge here. It’s worked with everyone from legal clients to weeping sinners that come to him begging forgiveness; let them speak, let them talk until they run out of things to say because that’s the only way a soul can rid itself of it’s burden. “Where do you wish to start?”

plotted starter | @blissfulxpride

[thefcther-blog1]

‘And I will utter my judgments against them touching all their wickedness, who have forsaken me, and have burned incense unto other gods, and worshipped the works of their own hands.’

Joseph had been thinking about Jeremiah 1:1-19 a great deal after the deputy had fallen unconscious from their little talk. Jeremiah, much like himself, had also been granted God’s vision of the future. Except Jeremiah had been blessed with words placed on his lips by the Lord Himself. Joseph had to rely on his own power of diction and oration to reach the hearts of mankind. 

Perhaps that was why he had been unable to save as many as he would have liked. 

In Noah’s time, a flood had been God’s tool to drench the world and start anew. In this modern age, a flood had also been used . . . except this one was made of intense flame and molecules that destroyed one’s genetics and tissues. Though he had never been shown the form in which the Collapse would come, he knew that he could survive it--along with his flock--by burying into the earth’s womb and waiting. 

He just hadn’t realized that the waiting would involve a great deal of time of thinking and dwelling. Perhaps it would have been easier if he had been in a bunker with his flock. At the very least, he could still minister. He had not. He was in a bunker that belonged to a veteran--now deceased--with the very soul responsible for murdering his family.

It was his family that primarily weighed heavily on his thoughts. He prayed that they were at peace. That God had granted them all mercy. Though John and Jacob, in particular, had committed acts that were against God’s teaching, they had once been as pure as the Lamb. The blame rested with other hands for their stumble on the path. 

During that time where the deputy slept once more, Joseph committed himself to prayer. For all of the lost souls that had been needlessly taken by the Collapse. Not the sinners outside of Hope County. Yet those that his words could not reach . . . and those that deputy had poisoned against him. 

He had also taken the time to unlock her handcuffs. The weapons had been removed from the bunker lest she try any silly ideas. The doors had finally been locked, too. Sealed. It was only after he had finished a few more hours of praying that he noticed the deputy was wakening once more. “Good evening,” he greeted her in his soft way. The radio--which was currently silent--had a clock on it. Military time. 

It was currently eight in the evening and all was quiet above. “How are your wrists?” he asked, not taking a step towards her, instead, remaining on the other side of the room where he closed his bible and set it against the table. “I know where there’s a medical kit if you require ointment.” 

@blissfulxpride

[bledsins]

@blissfulxpride from x

He stands there in all his wrathful glory, and as he smirks at her, she knows there is no stopping her now. Her revenge will taste sweet on her tongue, will sustain her back to Fall’s End and beyond, will keep her company while she hunts the other degenerates of the Project like the killer that she’s become. It will start with him, and she will relish every single second of it. Wrath, indeed.

She returns a vicious snarl back, lifts her gun, and aims straight for his black little heart covered by that ridiculous airplane trench coat, before pulling the trigger and listening to the release of her finely honed weapon. It claps like thunder, signalling the end of the Herald of Holland Valley, and the demise of the youngest Seed brother. In that instant, she feels nothing but the righteous power of God coursing through her veins. Tali feels alive. And when she looks up, she expects to see him crumpling to the ground in a heap of lifeless matter.

What she sees is definitely not that.

He stands, seeming to her somewhat confused as to exactly why that is, and goddamn if that isn’t a great question. She’s a phenomenal shot, had always gotten top marks, and her time in Hope County has only seemed to sharpen that particular talent into a very deadly edge.

So why the fuck was John Seed still alive?

Growling, she aims again, thinking perhaps a rogue gust of wind had altered the course of her bullet, and compensates by moving it ever-so-slightly center. She might not catch his heart, but he would go down. That was what mattered. He’s helpful, for once, and stands still… makes it easy for her. She doesn’t hesitate in squeezing the trigger, watching with satisfaction as the bullet flies from her barrel and down the few meters to him.

Where the projectile seems to bounce harmlessly off his chest, precisely where she’d aimed, and off to the side, embedding itself in a nearby tree as if ricocheted there. She stands silent for a long moment, the confusion written plainly on her features. Of course he’s wearing a bullet proof vest. Of course… Why wouldn’t he be? She tells the logical part of her brain to shut the hell up as it reminds her that not even Kevlar could cause such a sharp change in course once the inertia of the bullet was impacted. It was as if someone had plucked the bullet from the air and simply turned it…

Reaching for the knife she keeps in her boot, Tali stalks closer to him, ready to sheathe the razor-sharp blade into his warm body and end this once and for all, when she suddenly screams and drops the knife, the worst burning sensation crawling up her hand and arm, as if she’d stuck it in a camp fire. She stares in shock and alarm, trying to figure out how he’d done that, how he had managed to hurt her without lifting a finger. No matter how her mind seeks answers, she can’t seem to fathom a way for that to be possible. This was all very, very wrong somehow. What was he playing at? Suspiciously, she stalks around him, her left hand rubbing her ‘injured’ one, trying to erase the feel of the invisible flames that had seared her flesh.

“What kind of Harry Potter bullshit is this? Why can’t I kill you, Seed?”

He’s always had a high tolerance for pain, arguably far higher than most, but right now John is in agony. High above, his parachute is a ripped and tangled mess strung in the canopy and his knees protest every movement they make following the twelve foot drop to the unforgiving forest floor. Every breath burns. Nick Rye’s lucky shot on the right side of his cockpit which had sent Affirmation into an out of control nosedive hadn’t just caught the vitals of his plane. He can feel the blood from his right shoulder seep through his shirt and run down his back, the wound puckers and spasms every time he moves his arm and it’s all he can do just to pull that large magnum from it’s holster on his thigh and switch it to his left hand before the Deputy catches up with him.

Was this what Joseph saw in that vision he spoke of? Slain by his own sin come back around in a new form. Wrath. If anything it should have been obvious, the poison that spreads out and infects all it touches -- there’s plenty to go around. Off to the left, just over the hill, there’s a thin plume of smoke where he knows his plane lays in a crumpled, mangled wreck; damaged beyond repair and soon to be joined by her pilot. He’s oddly at peace with it, eyes casting skyward at the brilliant blue he’s able to glimpse through the trees. He knows the Deputy had landed her parachute on the road north of him, a space clear from trees and blocking his route up to his bunker -- though in the condition he’s in he’s not sure he’d make it all the way up Black Horse Peak on his own anyway. It’s only a matter of time before she finds him and he doesn’t have the strength to run. 

The magnum is weighed in his hand as the sound of boots on dried leaves and twigs alerts him to her presence first so he gathers himself up despite the scream of protest from his shoulder and side (something he’d barely noticed until he straightened). His tongue drags over his bottom lip, licking the blood from the cut he’d gained from being smacked in the face by a branch on the way down, a defiant smirk ripping it’s way onto his features as he stares her down. In that moment, her wrath supersedes his own, she’s consumed so much he can barely recognise her from when he first set eyes on her in Joseph’s church that ill-fated night. You’re destined to be slayed by your own sin. The Father’s words echo in his head as she raises her gun and all John can do is stare her down. 

But nothing happens.

The gun fires, he sees the flash from the muzzle and the wisp of smoke, he sees her hands move with the gun as it kicks. But there’s no impact, no burning pain, not white hot heat like there was when Carmina’s gattling gun sent two bullets into his torso. She’s point-black range...and yet she missed. Just like in the church at Fall’s End where he felt the bullet narrowly miss his ear. He knows she’s not a bad shot, hell she’s one of the best in the county -- she’d even rival Jacob he’d wager -- but that’s twice she’s missed now. And he’s too confused to even react when she shifts her stance and fires again. This time she doesn’t miss, but the bullet doesn’t even touch him. His shirt flutters slightly where it ricochets but that’s it. Logically, he should be reacting, he should be lifting that gun in his hand to shoot at her and end this stupid game, but he can’t quite believe what he’s seeing. And neither, it seems, can she.

It’s only when she moves, knife in hand, does he react. She stalks forward and he takes a step back, lifting to point his gun directly at her chest; his finger hovers over the trigger, ready to fire should she lunge, but instead she screams and releases her weapon as if it had burned her -- glaring at him as if he was somehow responsible. John’s seen a lot of weird shit since joining Joseph all those years ago, but this is on a whole new level. This is bordering on witchcraft. 

Her anger is met with a laugh that hurts, his wicked smile quickly turning into a grimace which he masks with a snarl. His gun’s still trained on her as she paces. Wrath indeed. “You ask me that as if you expect me to know the answer.” It comes out far more amused than he looks, another huffed laugh ending in a hiss as his right hand rests against the wound in his side despite the burn in his shoulder at the movement. “Let’s just call it divine intervention.” He lets off two rounds, not accurate thanks to the kick of the Desert Eagle being held in one hand not two, but point blank. The shots echo around the forest but that’s all they do. At least one of them should have hit her somewhere but instead they both bury themselves in the dirt in small puffs of dust. The third round he fires with a chain of swearwords that would make his older brother blush but again, all it does is ping off the deputy and bury itself in a nearby tree as if he’d aimed for that in the first place. 

“Motherfucker.” His hand drops slightly, staring between the gleaming steel of his gun and the unharmed woman not far away. “I don’t fucking believe this. Don’t fucking tell me this is some kind of biblical Adam and Eve nonsense...” What he wouldn’t give for his brother to magically appear and tell him what was going on right about now.

[thefcther-blog1]

Continued from here: 

Sometimes he sees them. Sometimes they’re smiling. Sometimes they’re bloody and bruised. His brothers haunted his dreams at times. Much like Old Mad Seed once had. Faith less so. Perhaps because he never saw her body. Her death weighs no less on his soul though.

It tastes like a betrayal at times--when he finds comfort in the lips and body of the one who killed them. But she has repented. And once they leave this bunker, she’ll atone. His anger no longer resides with her. He’s given that anger up to God. If he’s angry at all, it’s at the one who ordered her hands. Whitehorse.

Eyes open to meet her own when she tells him that she’ll doom her soul for him. Hands fold over her own, holding them. “I believe that God placed you here with me for a purpose. He would not have allowed us to both live if it were not to foster the relationship between Eden’s Gate and those who could not join us. When we step out into the light,” his fingers laced with hers, “and they see us together . . . see the forgiveness and love that exists between us  . . . they will forget and forgive the past. They will understand that now is the time to live as a family and not as enemies.”

@blissfulxpride

[thefcther-blog1]

Lets Play A Game of This Or That? (NSFW Edition): ALL OF THEM

AND BECAUSE SOMEONE IS EVIL, HERE’S THE REST FROM THAT CURSED MEME: 

Handcuffs or Shibari?: I mean, come on. After his experiences with the Deputy, you can be sure that kink was formed. 

Pillow Princess or Power Bottom?: Again, that intense stare is all he needs to be a power bottom. 

Voyeur or Exhibitionist?: Joseph has gotten used to being watched and has formed some semblance of enjoyment from it. This can be easily translated into his sexual proclivities, too. 

Blindfolds or Spreader Bars?: Sensation play requires an element of trust. Trust, in itself, is a kink for him. Placing himself wholly in another’s hands. Though, it should be noted, that he loves blindfolding his partner, too. 

Butt Plugs or Vibrators?: Neither of these FOR him, but he certainly doesn’t mind playing with vibrators with his partner to offer them satisfaction. 

Edging or Multiple Rounds?: Edging is a lot of fun if he’s the one controlling it, but Joseph, a sexually-repressed human being, wants as much with his partner as they can give. 

Knots or Ovipositor?: I cannot choose neither, unfortunately, although these don’t really pertain to Joseph. But, in some other universe, if he was being used by some alien or something . . . an ovipositor is a tad more agreeable than a knot. 

Spanking or Scratching?: While Joseph is a spanker, he, personally, prefers to be scratched. Add to those scars!

Ball Gag or Muzzle?: Something needs to shut him, am I right?

Strap on or Double Sided Dildo?: Again, this doesn’t pertain to Joseph, but there are those strap ons for men that offer them a differently textured cock, so uh. That? I guess?

Lengthy Cocks or Girthy Cocks?: If Joseph had to CHOOSE his own, it’d be girthy. Lengthy can become annoying when society forces you to wear underwear. If, in another world, where Joseph was gay (which my Joseph is not, but all the more power to those who write him more expansive than myself), he’d prefer lengthy cocks though. Stretching hurts, my dudes. 

Small Boobs or Large Boobs?: Honestly, perhaps even oddly, he doesn’t really have a preference? Large can sometimes appear fake, however, so he has a slight inclination towards smaller breasts. But he loves both. Breasts are good. 

Ass or Chests?: Because his mother was emotionally distant in his life, you can be sure he has some Oedipus-type inclinations. 

Thighs or Arms?: Good thighs to spread. 

Hot Wax or Knifeplay?: Why do you think there’s so many candles in the church?

Loud or Quiet?: Loudly quiet? That’s a bit more accurate. Lots of loud whispering though. He’s a talker. For better or worse. 

Biting or Sucking?: Though he does enjoy sucking certain things . . .

Collars or Piercings?: Collars mean ownership. There’s something rather enjoyable in that. 

Costumes or Lingerie?: Costumes would put him off a bit. 

Monogamy or Polyamory?: This is another subject that I had to think about a great deal. I think Joseph is, ultimately, monogamous. However, he has it in him to be polyamorous with the right partners. The Bible certainly doesn’t frown upon it and neither does he. 

Laughing and silliness during sex or Intensity and power struggle during sex?: He’s a soft boi and there’s enough power struggle in his life already. Though the sex should ALWAYS be intense in some form or another. 

Fucking a Virgin or Fucking someone with experience?: While he doesn’t ACTUALLY have much of an opinion on the amount of experience that his partner has, he does enjoy sex with a virgin simply because he wants to make sure that their first time is easy and special. Too many brutes out there wouldn’t treat them appropriately. 

Face to face or from behind?: Eye contact is important. 

Phone sex or Sexting?: Joseph appreciates mental stimulation. One can provide that through sexting. Either way, however, if he’s going to be teased via phone, his partner had best make good on their teasing the next time he sees them in person. Cumming inside or Cumming outside?: Intimacy, yo. 

Being filled or Bukkake?: This doesn’t apply TO him, but he certainly prefers to fill his partner. 

Dirty Talk or Degradation?: Joseph HATES degradation. Instant boner-killer.

Role play or Porn on in the background?: He’s a bit too awkward for role play, though he might be coaxed into giving it a go. Porn in the background is distracting, too--plus, porn--but it’s the lesser of two awkward situations. 

Public Edging or Filming in the Bedroom?: It requires some form of power over the other that Joseph particularly enjoys. 

Condom or Bareback?: The bunker doesn’t have room for condoms. 

Lube or Raw?: Raw is only acceptable if his partner is extremely wet and has applied it thoroughly to him as well. 

Video Call Masturbation or Sexy Selfies?: Joseph may not participate in the masturbation, but he certainly isn’t opposed to having his partner perform for him. 

Blood Play or Breath Play?: The blood is holy! 

Face fucking or Anal sex?: Mostly because face-fucking seems a tad more violent than what Joseph is comfortable performing as. 

Leather or PVC?: Leather is GOOD.

[bledsins]

"Just a graze."

@blissfulxpride | days gone | accepting

Of the three Seed brothers, it was Jacob that had the best knowledge of first aid, something John always put down to being in the military. Himself, he’d taken a very simple course in college which covered the very basics of CPR and recovery positions – but right now none of that held any water. Sure, he knew how to clean and dress wounds and it wasn’t like he wasn’t used to getting blood on his hands, but the circumstances here were completely different. For one, this was not a wound he’d caused and for another, the patient would not stop moving.

With a grunt of annoyance as she tries to deflect (again), John grabs her upper arm and squeezes a little too tight, teeth grinding in his head as he glares at her. “Hold. Still.” Just a graze his ass, there’s too much blood soaking through her shirt for it to be that. Satisfied that she’s not going to bolt away from him, he releases his grip to focus on pulling up her shirt to get a better look at the wound. Okay so it is a graze but it’s ugly enough to cause his top lip to curl, anger that she’d managed to get hurt in the first place seeping into his expression. There would be payback for this, he’d make sure of it. But right now, all his focus was on cleaning that wound. 

It’s policy in the bunker to have at least one first aid kid in each room, his office is no exception. However, it’s been displaced so many times in the chaos of the Reaping that he has to quickly scan the room – one hand resting firmly on Tali’s shoulder to keep her sat in the chair – before spotting the familiar yellow box sat on top of a filing cabinet at the back. “Stay.” A warning as he shoots her a look before stepping around his desk to retrieve the kit. The latch is flipped and lid popped open as he returns, already bloody fingers rummaging through the contents for the brown plastic bottle of antiseptic and a handful of wipes, which he places on the desk next to the metal kit box. 

Fingers pinch his jeans at the knee, pulling them up as he sinks down beside her to get a closer look at her side.“You’re lucky this doesn’t need stitches; sewing never was my strong suit.” He waves a hand at the wound on her side, “but it has to be cleaned or else it’ll get infected and we don’t want that, now do we?.”  

[prophesyr]

∞ (but only if you want to, please don't feel obligated!)

—   music meme ; send ∞ for a randomized playlist for our muses, accepting.

paint it black, the rolling stones. afraid, no wyld. smiling addiction, the brothers bright. the times they are a-changin’, bob dylan. the fugitive kind, the trigger code. ain’t no easy way, black rebel motorcycle club.

[bledsins]

❤

I would kill for you. • I would make love to you. • I would fuck you. • I would protect you. • I would hurt you for a selfish cause. • I wish we had more in common. • I want nothing to do with you. • I want to see you cry. • I want a future with you. • I want to destroy your future. • I do not care what you do. • I am indifferent towards you. • I want children with you. • I love you ( platonically ) • I love you ( romantically ) • I love you like family. • You are my family. • I could fall in love with you. • I would lie for you. • I would fight by your side. • I will never let you go. • I would hold you while you cried. • I would hug you. • I want to kiss you. • I would stay by your bedside if you were ill. • I want to fall asleep with you in my arms. • I want to forget you. • I will never forget you. • I only want to make you proud. • I wish I could make you happy. • You deserve nothing. • I will never forgive you. • You confuse me.

send a heart for brutal honesty | @blissfulxpride