#markeddeputy

[dcputyrook]

@markeddeputy // s.c.

The cuffs are slapped into place, Alder breathing out a sigh between his lips as he DRAGS the bound man KICKING and screaming towards the police cruiser. Sometimes, Alder didn’t know why Hurk Sr. even tried anymore, constantly coming to PRIVATE PROPERTY to try and prove that these people were bad. He didn’t see anything wrong with the Seed family in his first few months of being in Hope County. They were all incredibly friendly people. 

If not, a little suspicious.

Mary May HATED them with every fiber of her being, and Alder had investigated the matter of what happened to her family behind Earl’s back, just to truly make sure. Each time, he’d been intercepted by John Seed with his awkward smile and pressing words. He still did have a JOB to do, so he had to slow his attempts to help her. 

“We should let Earl know we’re on our way back.” Alder sighs as he gets into the car.

[thefcther-blog1]

His brother John was considerably adept at being able to wrangle confessions out of prospective members of the flock. Using methods that were, albeit, unpleasant, John could tell the genuine from the fake. Those who would truly make the new world a place to be considered paradise . . . and those who only wished them harm. 

So, when he was called by his brother and informed that he had gotten the deputy to say ‘Yes,’ Joseph was thrilled. At last, the attacks on the outposts would end. Or, rather, the taking over of their outposts would end. The Reaping could continue as planned. 

Because the deputy had been successful, in part, on aiding the rebellion, Joseph wanted to keep a close eye on her. So, he had decided that it would be best if she was placed under his own supervision. After all, he knew all too well that his dear brother’s inquisition-styled conversion could make one resentful rather than faithful. 

Joseph, himself, came on a helicopter to John’s ranch. The deputy’s baptism would be today. Her sins had been admitted to, carved into her flesh, and now she would baptized and purified. It was a ceremony Joseph, personally, wished to conduct. Once his helicopter landed, he was greeted by John. The Father took a moment to greet him warmly--touching foreheads together, hands gripping his face--before business was conducted.

Behind John stood the deputy. Joseph parted from his brother and stood in front of the woman who had placed handcuffs on him only days before. “I saw your face in a dream, you know,” he told her, his voice soft rather than condescending. “I knew it would be you that would break the first seal and set the Reaping into motion. Everything I was ever told . . . shown . . . has come to pass.”

His voice dropped lower, quieter, and he took a step closer until he was invading her personal space. “Which means the Collapse is nearly upon us. And you, deputy,” and this time his hands take her face between his palms, “will survive to see the new world that is given to us by God.” A smile. “Praise be.”

Releasing her, he gestured for her to follow him. “Come, my child. Before you become part of our family, you must be baptized. You may choose a new name if you so wish. Many do. This is, after all, a rebirth. Tell me what sins you confessed to my brother. The ones that mar your flesh now.”

@markeddeputy

[deputysaint]

      @markeddeputy  //  s.c.   [ always accepting ]

   she has a way of sweeping into a room that commands attention, even when she does it silently, especially when she does it silently. deacon wonders about that often, had wondered about it before the marshal had come with the warrant, had wondered about it after, would continue to wonder over it despite the county imploding around them.

   how could someone so small be so fierce? someone so pretty be so full of wrath? and it wasn’t john calling her that that made him notice it. there was something about her eyes, fiery and angry even when she was calm. two deep pools of brown, not doe-like in quality, but something else. sharper. more likely to drown you than they were to comfort.

   he supposes that’s why they split up and never worked together, even before the marshal came to town with his paper that he thought could buy him power. she was too rough, or maybe he was too gentle, and their world-views were different, their ideas on how to solve the situation were different. he wonders if she knows how weak he is, and that’s why they don’t work together. if she knows how quickly his stomach had rejected everything in it the minute he’d accidentally killed an angel. 

   he knows she couldn’t have heard about that, because he’d been with charlemagne at the time, and the man had a big mouth, but he knew when to keep it shut, knew how hard this was on a man who’d only wanted to help people. but a part of him... it wonders if she can see it in him anyway.

   lighting a cigarette, deacon ponders what she knows and what she doesn’t know as he watches her approach the prison in the dead of the night. she looks tired, angry, bruised and bloody. all of them do by this point, he supposes, but she wears it better than most.

   “good hunt?” he asks even though he doesn’t want to know what she was doing out there, didn’t want to know how many people he’d known she’s put down. he leans over the railing of walkway above the prison gate. “did you find her yet?”

[iscariotsdeputy]

👫

Send a 👫and I’ll write four headcanons I have about our muse’s relationship

When Staci and Jeri first met, her being his Rookie, he insisted on a “Getting to know you” night. It was basically just them hanging out, him taking her on a tour around the county, and them talking about all the things they like. He did this to get closer to Jeri and so she could feel closer to him. Sure, he’s her mentor, but he wants to be her friend too.

On the night of the arrest, Staci smiled and assured Jericho that nothing bad would happen. He promised “The Peggies won’t lay a hand on you, I’ll be there”. They spent that night anxiously sitting on their desks and hoping that maybe the Marshal wouldn’t come around. They told jokes to each other and kept a smile on their faces until Burke showed up.

When Jacob first caught Jericho, Staci was fucking terrified. Staci was trying in any way to get Jacob to change his mind. Said that Jericho wasn’t really a fighter. Said that Jericho was not meant for this. Said they should release Jericho. Please, just let her go, Jacob.

HEY YEAH THAT PLEADING FAILS. AND WHEN JACOB IS DEAD. AND THEY’RE JUST SITTING IN THE WHITETAILS. STACI AND JERICHO SITTING IN THE DEAD OF NIGHT. SILENCE OVERTAKING THEM. AND STACI JUST. RETURNS TO THE BASICS OF THEIR FIRST MEETING.“My name’s Staci. I’m, uh, a fan of rock music and video games.”

[slightedson]

@markeddeputy

“I’ve been there.”

Leo’s voice sounds desperate, almost pleading as he steps up to the deputy. He doesn’t dare touch her, but he stands close enough as to hopefully showcase the fear and determination in his eyes.

“I’ve been there. I can help your cause, please let me. I can’t sit around here and do nothing - not when I’ve got information that could help.”

[ablehearted-blog]

🌻

Send 🌻 to give Holden a sunflower!

@markeddeputy

“What’s this for?”

Holden doesn’t hesitate in grabbing the stem of the flower, quickly bringing it to his lips and running the soft petals along his chin. There’s just a faint smell, something wind-blown and Earthy, but it’s comforting in its own right.

Sunflowers are his absolute favorite. Something about the bright pop of color, and the heartiness of the petals - they remind him of Harper.

“I love sunflowers. Was that a lucky guess?” he asks with a smile, turning his attention back to the deputy. “Thank you.”

[dcputyrook]

@markeddeputy / s.c.

“I’m not opening my eyes no matter how much you BEG me.” It’s wasn’t any secret among the deputies or the resistance that Deputy Alder Clark had a fear of flying. It had NOTHING to do with heights, mind you. He just LOATHED the idea of getting into a gravity-defying flying metal contraption that could SO EASILY be shot down if the right part was destroyed. Alder did have his PILOT’S license....but he didn’t USE it much. These days, since the helicopter crashed and the REAPING begun, he avoided flying anywhere. Alder downright REFUSED, in fact.

At least, he did so when he COULD.

“Just let me know when we touch down.” Alder grumbles, crossing his arms over his chest in a stubborn way. He wasn’t IN the front seat. He was in the back listening to Sharky chuckle about Alder’s chosen DEFIANCE.

“I’ll be back here with the pyromaniac until then.”

[walriding]

@markeddeputy​

     “You must be Ms. Monroe.” The title is uncertain -- some people like ‘deputy’ or ‘officer’ or ‘agent’. Others don’t. Based on what she’s been through, he doesn’t want to misstep. But his smile is easy, that same kind of charm he used to employ for nearly every interview coming back to the surface. Still, there’s something decidedly closed off about him -- he doesn’t offer to shake her hand, for one thing, instead keeping one clutched around his notebook while the other remains resolutely in his pocket. The missing fingers are still a point of acute insecurity. “Miles Upshur -- we spoke on the phone.”

     It’s been some time since he fell back on the standard reporting gig, but there’s something to be said for normalcy in the face of your life continuing to go to shit. His state of existence has stabilized in the time since the asylum, and there will always be bills and expenses to take care of, even for a dead man. That, and cults pique a particular interest, now -- having witnessed the aftermath of Temple Gate, he’s learned not to write off the power of groupthink. Murkoff might have whipped those people into a fervor, but the frenzy was happening well before the radio towers went up. The psychology behind it holds his interest in a way it never did before.

     And he saw the videos that were posted before the ‘reaping.’ He’s only sorry that he couldn’t have done something.

     “We can talk wherever you’re most comfortable.”