#baptyst

* SEND A ❤ / @baptyst ( accepting )

“Don’t give me that look, John, I-i know that look…”

Her face feels sticky, a numb heat blinded by the harsh throbbing in the flesh of her cheek. Staggering, hand clamped to the bare flesh on her side where the shirt was torn wide and the blood spilling over fingers. It aches, white flashing with crimson, linen made impure by the sanguine easing its way between her digits.It was getting hard to see him, functioning eye hazed with the blood oozing from the other. Palm trembles, clutching to the shoulder of the baptist. Desperate need for support, knees beginning to buckle as she presses her forehead to his own. Thumb brushes a cheek, head twisting slightly to press her lips to the point where her thumb had trailed a red stain on the skin.

“The lord w-will not take me yet, I have not finished my job here.”

murder time fun time || accepting

John’s plane went plummeting towards the ground at a speed none of his Chosen could keep up with. Other than Nick’s loud cheering in his ear, Rook could hear the engine’s plane giving out, the wild BEEPING as its descent is followed swiftly by a ground shaking EXPLOSION. Birds scattered from the trees, animals fled for the mountains at the first chance they got. Once the wheels touched the ground, Rook was out and chasing after the lone parachute that had bailed OUT before the crash.

When Rook FINDS John, the Herald was dashing through the cultists, making a break for his bunker. Rook couldn’t let him get AWAY. So Rook charges after him, BLASTING holes through the cultists that attempted to stop him. There were too many of them. Rook WHISTLES. A tan flash of FUR darted right by Rook just then, taking up chase to slow the herald down. Her claws found place in his leg, ripping and tearing at whatever she could reach.

It works.

John curses and spits, trying to fight the massive feline off. Rook hurriedly caught up, planting one last BULLET through John’s opposite leg. He drops and Peaches draws back by his side, the fur along her spine raised in mute FURY. There was rage behind his words, “what if he’s right? what would you do then?” And still Rook remains silent, shoving the other’s hands off his jacket and taking a few steps back.

“Peaches….be a dear.” First words said during the fight. Pupils turned to slits, focusing on the man as she crept back out of hiding.

The last of John’s life BLED OUT through the claw marks.

the days pastor jerome officially meets john seed for the first time would, almost ironically so, become one of the most beautiful and peaceful fall days of that year. no sound in the air ‘cept for the ever present call of the surrounding wild-life, the distant hum of people enjoying the last rays of sun in their gardens in the presence of their family.  no visible movement ‘cept for the occasional passer-by on their way to the spread eagle bar and the wind teasing, tickling the leaves on their branches, blowing the ones already discolored and dying through the sweet, post-summer air. it’s the kind of day that makes fall’s end look exactly as idyllic and inviting as it is made out to be across the valley ------- and even the entire county.

with grace visiting her grandparents and his morning sermon already concluded,  the afternoon finds jerome tending to the church’s garden; rake in hand to gather the fallen leaves littering the front steps, the grass, the flower beds and the small graveyard in the back.  it’s menial, monotone work to be sure,  but that garden has always been something the pastor takes pride in.  the spring and summer always boasts beautiful and fragrant flowers and even now,  in the fall,  there’s still some blooms out.  

furthermore, the rhythmic movement of the raking,  the soothing rustle of the leaves calms the growing unease inside of him and serves to quieten his thoughts.  he’s not quite sure what has gotten him so unsettled,  the dread in his gut still something quite nameless and faceless; the kind of paranoia he’s not felt since his days serving during the gulf war ------- but part of him is willing to bet it’s got quite a few things to do with fall’s end latest guest.  

MY MUSE IN A RELATIONSHIP ? // open.

😡    what   are   their   deal   breakers  ? 

for  jacob ,  it  would  definitely  be  a  deal  breaker  if  his  partner  was  an  indoor  type  of  person .  he  loves  to  be  outside ,  but  if  his  partner  insists  on  staying  inside ,  it  will  not  work  out  very  well .  additionally  to  that ,  he  does  not  like  to  be  bossed  around .  so  if  his  partner  is  getting  too  dominant ,  issa  bye-bye  from  him .

👨‍👩‍👧‍👦    do   they   want   children  ? 

yes ,  he  did  want  children  when  he  was  younger  but  now ,  at  the  age  of  47  he  got  rid  of  that  dream .  even  if  he  had  a  stable  relationship  with  someone ,  he  is  quite  sure  that  he  had  lost  his  father  potential  due  to  everything  that  happened  during  the  war .

💭    do  they  tend  to  sleep  better  when  in  bed  with  their  partner  ? 

no ,  not  really .  honestly ,  it  does  not  matter  if  someone’s  sleeping  next  to  him  in  bed  because  the  nightmares  would  keep  on  following  him ,  anyway .

‘A twenty eight year old man, and his eight year old daughter were victims of a brutal attack– the father’s throat was cut clean from ear to ear– the child sustained multiple stab wounds to the torso– both bodies were found by the wife and mother, Sarah Harper- the building had been set on fire following the killings and she managed to pull the bodies from the family home – the woman remains in a stable condition in hospital following smoke inhalation’

The reports have long since looped through her mind, any and all memories of waking at the hospital were quickly drowned out through another glass in hand. ’–Jacob Harper, and his daughter, Freya, were pronounced dead at the scene–’Reporters had followed her like a virus, infecting every little part of her life until she could take no more, until she had to flee from the spotlight. Police claimed that the arson had destroyed any viable evidence, that the killer could not be traced. She knew who it was, she had seen his face. A life in prison? That was no punishment for what he had done. So, she played the fool, said that no one else had been in the house when she had returned, that she could not name a single soul who would want to hurt her or her family. She can remember killing HIM. That bastard. She watched him die and she enjoyed every minute of it. She did the same as he had done to her family, brutalising his torso before opening his neck. A body wouldn’t be found. She made sure of that.No loose ends.

When she finally returned, Sarah had swiftly found a new home. The local bar, a place to bury herself in alcohol and snuff out any thoughts. An agonising moment of sobriety brought back the memories, the metallic stench of blood, the screams that she had heard before entering her home. The absinthe could take that away.She had the money, she could flaunt it any way she wanted to, and this had been her decided poison. Any new face that found a perch beside her own was swiftly willed away by a sharp tongue or harsh glare. Everyone knew who she was and what had happened. Everyone had something to say.What ones were worse? The pity bringers? Who reached to hold at her hand, to share their sympathies and how they somehow knew what it felt like. Or would it be the ones who spat venom in her face? Who pointed fingers, spewed accusations that she had been the one to kill her own family. That she had DESERVED it.

If she could not shake those demons that haunted her mind, she could do her best to forget that they loomed over her shoulder. This day had been no different until a stranger found his place by her side.Well groomed, elegant, money.Someone horribly out of place beside her, disheveled hair falling loose over mismatched eyes.Jacob used to say that they were his favourite thing about her. One blue, one gold. Rare, beautiful.Bitter, angry. An overbearing glare at the man who so softly smiled in return.

“Get lost. I have nothing more to give you people! Why won’t you leave me alone? Please, I can’t cope anymore, I can’t. Leave me the fuc-”

She was cut off, by the hand that came to rest on her wrist. It was different to the others, careful touch with one, the other peeling the bottle away from her fingers. The woman did nothing to stop him, other than stare with hazy eyes, hands trembling as soon as the glass left her touch.Oh god, oh god she can see the blood on her skin, crawling under her fingernails. She’s back in that house, drenched in the blood of her family and-His voice brings her back to reality, mellow words to accompany the soft blue stare, it’s a blur at first, some sort of offering of salvation, of purpose.She has been chosen, he says, chosen to become part of a family. That the father is guiding his children to a new life, a chance to atone for her sins, to be reborn. And she listens, by god does she listen, shaking hands falling still, focused on the herald’s every word and movement.She wants to be saved, she pleads him to show her this family, this purpose. She atones.And with that damned cool smile, John Seed leaves the bar with a new face for his brother’s sermon.

jacob  was  quite  angry ,  also  quite  DISAPPOINTED  in  his  brothers  decision  to  just  let  it  happen .  the  security  of  the  project  was  his  duty  and  by  letting  the  authorities  come  and  arrest  the  father ,  he  feared  failure .  joseph’s  way  of  quieting  his  big  brother  were  the  exact  words  he  told  the  deputy  —  god  will  not  let  you  take  me .  he  did  not  speak  it  out ,  but  jacob  did  not  believe  in  these  words .  he  did  not  rely  on  god  to  get  this  situation  under  control  and  it  fueled  him  with  anger .  this  situation  could  have  been  avoided  beforehand ,  but  the  father  himself  tied  his  hands  behind  his  back .  it  was  very  painful  to  watch  for  the  protective  big  brother  he  was .