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themidnightcrimson · 1 year

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religion ࿏ wm

summary: in which the new reverend at your hometown church wants to give you a lesson on sexual immorality.

words: 5.6K

warnings: pastor!wanda, fem!reader, oral (r giving), fingering (r receiving), slight non-con/dubcon, manipulation, dumbification, degradation, religion, lots of bible verses, rip my religious trauma, spank me with a bible, fuck me with the crucifix, yes lord in wanda's name we pray amen

this post is for 18+ only. minors dni.

masterlist.

A few women in the church had put together a potluck after one Sunday sermon, or a “covered dish supper” as the elders liked to call them. You remembered loving those potlucks as much as you loved church itself when you were a child. As the years went by and your worldview got bigger and your mind opened up to the broader possibilities that this was not what life should be like, you scarcely ever went to church.

Upon moving away for college, the idea of church was a laughable thing to you. You could hardly even remember what the rituals were anymore, or the verses, or the hymns. It wasn’t necessarily a hatred or aversion, but rather a bitter distaste in your mouth when reminded of how indoctrinated you and your whole community were into the church. You just weren’t religious anymore, and you preferred living life that way, though it took years of untying the knots of theological principals and “truths” from your mind.

When you were back in your hometown for a visit, your mother nearly fell over at the sight of the little rainbow bracelet on your wrist. After a very heated conversation where you threw in her face the fact that you had been with multiple women in college, she seemed to give up and leave the conversation alone—until the next morning she asked you to come to church with her.

“Really? You think going to church is going to reverse the way that I was born? You expect me to just pray the gay away?!” you yelled at her, but she was calm. She said that was not her intentions, but rather they were to simply have you come see everyone you grew up around. She said that there was a new pastor there who was younger and could relate better to youth without that kind of feigned wise judgment that the other pastor, a wobbly old man, used.

You fought tooth and nail against your mom in a thirty-minute argument until finally you were just too tired to fight against her anymore. You felt how you did in high school—getting lectured by your mom for skipping church only a single Sunday, being placed under her godly ray of obstinance that so easily drained you until you just couldn’t fight anymore. She forced you to wear one of your church dresses from high school and practically shoved you into the car that Sunday morning. You were just looking forward to the potluck afterward.

As your mom pulled the car into the church’s parking lot, you realized that they had done renovations on the sanctuary since you had been gone. It was bigger now, with huge mosaic windows facing the front and a new pure white cross on top of the spire, making the triangular building look even taller and more pointed than it already was.

“This new pastor a millionaire or something?” you mumbled as you unbuckled your seatbelt.

“No, she’s just so brilliant and amazing that she’s attracted dozens of new parishioners since she came,” she explained. “You’ll see. She really has a way of connecting with young people, especially young women. I couldn’t tell you how many girls your age have joined in the past year!”

Crinkling your eyebrows, you stepped out of the car and took a breath of fresh air. Even in the parking lot, you could pick up that familiar smell of wood and old books. “The pastor is a woman?” you asked, remembering only male pastors. Although your denomination was open towards female pastors, the general misogyny of your small-town Southern community had always favored men, of course.

“Uh huh,” your mother said as she stepped out of the car and fixed her hair in the wind, walking over to you and gently grabbing your arm suddenly. “Y/n, I should probably let you know… I did call Reverend Maximoff last night and told her a little about your…situation.”

Your eyes widened as you stared at her incredulously. “What?!” Had your mother really gone and called the local pastor to tell her that her daughter was gay?

“Look, it’s important for a pastor to know their parishioners’ personal lives in order to truly connect with them. I’m not saying I asked her to… pray the gay away or whatever you said, but I just let her know that you were having some…sexually immoral feelings. She’s helped many young women here with the same problem.”

“Excuse me?!” you exclaimed, jerking your arm away from your hand. An old couple walking by glanced over at you, and you blushed and looked away, speaking quieter. “Why the hell would you tell some woman I don’t even know that I’m having sex with women?!”

“She’s not some woman, she’s an ordained minister of God!” your mother exclaimed. “She’s not going to drag you up in front of the church and hang you, for God’s sake! She was just concerned that you’re not living your life under the guidance of God and would be happy to give you a steering hand, that’s all! She didn’t even say anything about the gay part—just the promiscuity!”

Curse words formed on your lips, but you pursed them together, pushing past your mother and towards the church so you could get this thing over with. “Promiscuity my ass,” you muttered as you burst open the church doors, hit with that familiar old smell. It looked different now that it had been renovated, the ceiling and windows much taller and the carpet redone, but it was the same wooden pews you remembered as a child and the same large altar with a grand piano and steps for the choir.

You looked around at all the familiar townspeople sitting in the pews as the choir, dressed in their robes and holding their hymnals, made their way to the chancel in formation. You realized that your mother was right when she said that the church had grown—all of the pews were jammed full of people, except for a little spot near the front where there was enough room for two people to squeeze in. Feeling aggravated and brash, you stormed to the front and shimmied past the row of people to sit down in the empty spot, your mother scrambling down beside you.

“Please don’t be angry in the house of God,” she began.

You ignored her, looking around and seeing that there were groups of young women your age looking excitedly towards the altar, waiting for the pastor to come out. You assumed maybe the pastor had started a women’s group and was just mentoring the young women.

Reaching forward, you took the hymnal book sitting in the slot behind the pew in front of you, opening up its yellowed pages and flipping through. You could still remember some of the songs, but before you could read one, there was a hushing whisper among the congregation.

Glancing upwards, you saw Reverend Maximoff emanating from behind the altar, glancing out among the ground with a smile as she stepped to the front. You were shocked to see her—she was older than you, but not by too much. She had a youthful smile to her face and twinkling green eyes, her blonde hair cut right to the shoulders of the maroon robe and dark green stole she wore.

“Good morning, everyone,” she announced, her voice loud and confident. The church crowd silenced and gave their full attention to her. “Today we will start by worshiping the Lord our God with our choir’s beautiful voices, as well as your own.” Her Southern accent was feminine and airy with a cheerful tune to it, as if she was already singing by simply speaking. “Please turn to page 304 in your hymnals and stand to worship the Lord with us.”

The sound of people standing and pages turning filled your ears, and you found yourself flipping to the page and standing up along with everyone else, realizing that your muscle memory was still there. It felt odd being in that place again, viewing the solemnity and respect of religion in a community sense.

The choir started, and then the rest of the church joined in, singing the hymn in unison. You didn’t sing at first, until your mother’s elbow stabbed your ribcage, so you quietly mumbled the words.

Glancing up, you watched Reverend Maximoff singing at her stand, face turned towards the choir and grinning at them as the words formed on her lips. You had to admit that for a pastor, she was beautiful and charming. Her smile was nearly mesmerizing as her head slowly turned towards the congregation in appreciation for their singing, eyes casting over the pews of people until they flickered near you. Realizing that you were staring, you quickly glanced down at the book before she could make eye contact with you. Feeling suddenly nervous, you mindlessly stared at the book until you figured she would be looking somewhere else, looking back up only to find that she was looking right at you.

All you could hear were the choral praises of God as the Reverend’s eyes bore into yours. The smile on her face faded a little, her focus zoning in on you through the crowd. You remembered what your mother had told her about you, the thought bringing a sickly blush of shame to your cheeks. Why was she staring at you? Was she judging you? Thinking about what a dirty sinner you were? You couldn’t take it, but you couldn’t look away either.

Finally, the song ended, and she broke eye contact.

“Thank you so much. You may please be seated.”

The crowd sat down and put their hymnals away as the choir did the same, and once everyone was finally still and quiet, the Reverend opened her Bible and started flipping through pages to find notes for her sermon.

“Today, people, we will be talking about the one thing we think about almost all of the time—our bodies.” Your teeth ached as you braced yourself for whatever religious bullshit was about to be shoved down your throat. “Our bodies—whether it be our health, our appearance, the work we can do with them, what we eat, what we drink—our bodies remain a constant thought in our mind.”

She stepped out from behind the stand, walking to the front steps of the altar and peering out at the crowd with her luring eyes like a bird.

“God tells us in His Word that our bodies are a temple for the Holy Spirit. You see, we do not own our flesh and blood. Our body is a sacrament to Him in everything we do with it. Our divine purpose on this Earth is to use our bodies the Lord has given us as a vessel for the Spirit, to spread His Holy Word. If our bodies are unholy, or if we use them to transgress against His Word, we are violating His purpose for them.”

As much as you wanted to dissociate and just block out whatever she was saying, a strange curiosity overcame you that kept your eyes trained on her as she stepped down the altar steps to get even closer to the crowd, holding the Bible in her hands.

“There are many ways that we sin with our bodies every day. When your mouth curses, when your hands do not pray to Him, when your feet lead you to unholy places. One of the most extreme ways that we go against the Holy Spirit within us is when we commit the very sin that seems to have a grasp on the youth today—sexual immorality.”

There it was. You bit the inside of your cheek and took a deep breath, trying to control the anger within you.

“I want y’all to turn to one of my favorite passages in the Word,” she said, turning to walk towards the other side of the pew as she waited for people to turn to the verse. “1 Corinthians 6:13.”

You wouldn’t dare to pick up a Bible. You crossed your arms and ignored your mother’s urging glances as the Reverend started to read.

“You say, food for the stomach and the stomach for the food, and God will destroy them both. The body, however, is not meant for sexual immorality but for the Lord, and the Lord for the body,” she called out, her voice echoing off the walls of the large room. You watched her, her back turned from you, as she paced the other side of the room before turning, walking towards your side of the pew with her eyes trained on the book. “By his power God raised the Lord from the dead, and he will raise us also. Do you not know that your bodies are members of Christ himself? Shall I then take the members of Christ and unite them with a prostitute? Never!”

You rolled your eyes and rubbed your forehead, wishing you could escape this cultish experience. Still, you watched her, the way her lips formed the words, the way her face looked pointed down to the book, eyelashes dancing across her cheeks as she read the words.

“But whoever is united with the Lord is one with him in spirit.” She turned down the center aisle, and as she got closer to your pew, you started to shift uncomfortably in your seat. Suddenly, her eyes lifted from the pages and pierced you sideways. You felt frozen under her stare as she discreetly eyed you, not even having to look at the page to recite, “Flee from sexual immorality. All other sins a person commits are outside the body, but whoever sins sexually, sins against their own body.”

Her voice was lower now, serious and clear. You couldn’t tear your eyes away from hers as she slowly floated past you, her robe wafting around her ankles. You noticed the way her svelte hands held the Bible, a single digit lifting to flick the page. You could’ve sworn you saw a smirk on her lips as she finally looked away from you and kept preaching, walking down the aisle.

Finally, you could breathe. Surprise filled you as you realized that you had started sweating—were you really so demonic that you were sweating in the pews of a church? But why did she look right at you as she read that particular verse? Was she targeting you because of what your mother had said?

You could barely listen to the rest of the sermon as she talked about sexual immorality and fleeing from it by turning your mind and body towards the Lord.

At the potluck, you couldn’t help but find your eyes drifting to wherever Reverend Maximoff was in the room. Potlucks were always held in a building connected to the sanctuary where they had special events and meetings. She drifted around the room chatting with different members of the congregation, her eyes somehow always finding yours right as you were looking at her. You would blush and quickly look away, redirecting your focus on what the old lady was talking to you and your mom about.

You didn’t realize that she was waiting for you to be alone. Finally, you left your mom and the lady to go to the table filled with homemade desserts, browsing around for something chocolate.

A hand on your lower back made you gasp and turn. You were shocked to see Reverend Maximoff standing close beside you, still dressed in her robes. “Y/n,” she greeted you with a pearly smile, her earrings dangling from her ears. “It’s so nice to finally meet you. Your mom has talked about you so much since I’ve been here.”

“Oh,” you said with a polite smile. “Has she?”

“Yes,” she smoothly answered, stepping even closer to you. “I’m very glad you came today. I must tell you that the Lord has speaking to my heart about you quite a lot.”

“Oh yea?” you said disinterestedly, more focused on the way her eyes kept darting down your body, trying to pinpoint why she was ogling you.

She tilted her head and closed her smile, looking thoughtful for a brief moment before saying, “You know, I was hoping you would have a session with me here sometime, before you go back to college. I would love to talk more with you and get to know you. You were at this church long before I was, and I would love to give you some heavenly advice on whatever is pressing at your heart.”

Your eyebrows rose. “Nothing’s pressing at my heart but my ribcage.”

She giggled, and it surprised you. “No, there’s always something for pretty young women like you.” You flushed a little at her choice of words. “God has a plan for you, y/n, but I get the feeling you may need some guidance to get you there.”

“You get these feelings a lot?” you droned, picking up a brownie from the table and taking a bite, keeping eye contact with her. You weren’t going to let this pastor try to get her godly claws in you.

Her eyes flickered to your mouth as you took a bite of the brownie, her irises darkening. “Come see me after the Wednesday night sermon. Maybe…” She reached forward and took the half-eaten brownie from your hand, her fingers grazing yours. “I can teach you to use your mouth to praise the Lord.”

She put the half of the brownie into her mouth and chewed it with a smirk. Frozen and confused, you stared at her as she put her thumb in her mouth to suck off the crumbs, winking and floating away from you. Your entire body went hot as her words folded over in your mind, as well as the sight of her eating the brownie you had just had between your teeth.

Normally, you would’ve declined any invitation to have personal sessions with a Reverend, but the brief interaction you had with Reverend Maximoff had you offput and curious. Your mother almost cried in relief when you told her that you would be going to the Wednesday night sermon as well as staying behind to speak with the Reverend.

Wednesday’s sermon went the same as Sunday’s. There were less people there that night, naturally, and although Wednesday night sermons were usually shorter than Sunday’s, it seemed like Reverend Maximoff was antsy to be finished with it. She spoke faster with less focus, ending the sermon after only an hour. Your mother excitedly hurried away with the rest of the congregation, and you anxiously stayed in the pew as the Reverend talked with some lingering people until finally she ushered them all out, closing and locking the church doors behind the last person.

You turned your head and watched her as she sighed, holding onto the doors for a moment before turning around to look at you, clasping her hands at her front.

“Y/n,” she began lowly, turning her face down slightly as her eyes trained on you, her feet slowly leading her up the aisle towards you. “I was so glad when I saw you here tonight.”

“Well,” you began, fiddling with your thumbs. “I didn’t have anything else to do tonight.”

It was only partially true. You could have caught up with your old friends or went out to dinner or even just stayed home and watched TV, but something lured you into that church that night, and you felt it had something to do with the way she predatorily eyed you as she neared you.

She said nothing as she came closer, sucking her cheeks as you could see words forming in her brain. “Keep watch over yourselves and all the flock of which the Holy Spirit has made you overseers. Be shepherds of the church of God, which he bought with his own blood.” A smirk drew itself on her lips. “Acts 20:28.”

You just raised your eyebrows and nodded impressively. “You have the Bible memorized. Good for you.”

Ignoring your sly comment, she spoke, “It means that, as the Reverend of this church, it is my duty to be a shepherd.”

“That is what the verse says.”

Her eyes narrowed at you, her lips parted at distaste of your attitude. “What did I tell you about your mouth?” she snapped, her voice edged and cutting as it echoed loudly off the walls of the church, reminding you how alone you were with her. You stiffened in the pew.

She neared you, resting a hand on the edge of the pew as she stood before you. “As a shepherd, I must keep watch of my flock. I must be aware of them all the time—their lives, feelings, behaviors, their walk with God.” She paused, her tongue settling over her lower lip as she tilted her head. “Tell me, what path do you walk?”

You blinked, lips opening and closing as you tried to understand what she was asking.

“Do you walk the ways of the wicked? The ways of Satan himself?” Without breaking eye contact, she lowered and sat on the pew beside you. “Does your body sin against the Spirit?”

Looking down, you shook your head and laughed. “I know my mom told you. Believe me when I say I have no inclination to your religion, and I never will. I don’t need to be scrutinized or judged.”

“Your mother was only acting as a shepherd by leading you to me, and I thank her for that,” she remarked, her eyes glancing down at your dress where the ends stopped at your mid-thigh, leaving your legs bare. “I fear you are not treating your body as the temple of God it is. You have tainted it with your sexual proclivities, haven’t you, y/n?”

Your face started to burn at her outright words. “Excuse me?”

“Tell me, how do you prefer to use your body? Like a whore? Like a destitute slut?”

Ears burning at the sound of her husky voice, your face burned even hotter. The shock of her words left you speechless and utterly confused as to how a Reverend would speak to someone that way.

“You can tell me, y/n. Only God is watching us.” She reached forward suddenly, placing her hand on your thigh and sliding it upwards. The touch startled you and made you jump to your feet.

She looked up at you with a twisted smirk as you started to tremble with nervousness. “What kind of a Reverend are you?”

“One who will do anything to guide her people to God,” she lilted, standing up and reaching for you again. You backed away, bumping into the wooden back of the pew and circling around it to get away from her. You jumped up the steps of the altar.

“What are you doing?!”

“So Christ himself gave the apostles,” she began in her pastor voice she used during the sermon, circling the pew to saunter towards you again, stalking like a predator, “the prophets, the evangelists, the pastors and teachers, to equip his people for works of service, so that the body of Christ may be built up.” She took a slow step up the altar, grinning devilishly. “Ephesians 4:11-12.” She lowered her chin. “I can help you restore your body’s temple. I can sanctify you, make you whole again in the eyes of the Lord.”

Your heartbeat fluttered at the way she was seductively eyeing you, sauntering up the steps, the sultry and sensual tone in her voice. You let her come near you and place a hand on your waist that made you shiver all over.

Whispering, she said, “As God’s apostle, I offer you a direct line to worship Him and beg for forgiveness.” Her other hand softly cupped your chin, feeling the blushing skin here. Her thumb grazed over your lower lip, her dilated eyes drinking up your mouth like thick wine, and she recited, “May my prayer be set before you like incense; may the lifting up of my hands be like the evening sacrifice.”

The verse burned in your ears—it was one you had memorized for Sunday school so many years ago and somehow still subconsciously remembered. You whispered, “Psalms 141:2.”

Her grin widened. “Good girl.” She licked her lips, thumb still grazing your own. “From the fruit of their mouth a person’s stomach is filled; with the harvest of their lips they are satisfied. The tongue has the power of life and death, and those who love it will eat its fruit. Proverbs 18:20-21.”

It became hard to breathe when two of her fingers slipped through your lips and sunk slowly over your tongue.

“What goes into someone’s mouth does not defile them, but what comes out of their mouth, that is what defiles them. Matthew 15:11,” she recited, her own lips parting in a sigh as she slid her fingers further into your mouth.

A soft noise escaped your throat as you let her feel your mouth, your legs becoming weak. Her grip on your waist tightened when you flicked your tongue between her fingers and closed your lips, sucking dutifully on them. She jutted her lower teeth in desire, stepping so close to you that there was no room to breathe. Your skin felt hot all over, and you became suddenly aware of the cross hanging at the front of the altar, as if it were burning into your back.

The Reverend licked the back of her teeth, eyes trained on her fingers disappearing into your mouth as she whispered, “Shall you use your tongue to praise the Lord our God?”

A dirty sucking sound escaped your mouth as you sucked her fingers, and you were so under her trance, her beautiful green eyes, the way she was so enamored with your mouth, that you eagerly nodded around her fingers.

A half smile curled on her open lips as she slid her fingers out of your mouth, placing a hand on your shoulder and harshly pushing you down. Your knees hit the velvet red steps of the altar as Reverend Maximoff, standing on the step below you, placed one leg on the upper step and started to lift up her robe. You kneeled, watching in all of God’s glory, with the church’s mosaic windows behind her, as the Reverend lifted up her maroon robes and bunched them with one hand at her hips, exposing her bare pussy. With one foot on the step below your knees, and the other foot beside your knees, she tilted open her thigh and placed a hand on the back of your head.

You shivered at the feeling of her fingers in your hair as she pushed your head towards her, bucking her hips. You were filled with pulsing desire as you placed your hands gently on her hips and let her draw your mouth towards her, opening your lips and finding her slick folds. Your tongue ran over her slit, and you moaned at her taste, at how she was so wet that her juices already covered your lips.

Reverend Maximoff sighed, leaning her head back as you found her clit and started to lap at it. “Oh, God!” she exclaimed, pushing her hips towards your face as you suckled on her clit.

You could hardly keep up with her as she pushed your head and bucked her hips at the same time, forcing her clit onto your tongue. Your mouth involuntarily closed when one particular thrust of your head was too rough, to which she snapped, “Open your mouth! Proverbs 31:26—She speaks with wisdom, and faithful instruction is on her tongue.” Her sentence ended with a piercing moan as you opened your mouth wider for her and let her fuck it as she pleased.

Whining from the force, you furiously tried to pleasure her—as much as you could with the way she was practically pleasuring herself with your mouth like it was a toy. You melted at the sounds of her moans and gasps that echoed in the church, at the way that you were kneeling on the altar with your head between her legs, at the way her hand was tangled in your hair. Her clit tangibly throbbed on your tongue as her hips thrusted harder, her moans rising in pitch.

“Oh, God! Oh, God!” she screamed as she came, grinding her clit against your tongue and grabbing your hair so hard that your scalp ached. You struggled to breathe, eyes tearing up from the pressure on your face, listening to her catch her breath and loosen her grip on your hair. Finally, she moved away from you, dropping her robe back down her ankles. You were panting, lips puffy and red and covered in her wetness, eyes glistening as you stared up at her, drunk with lust. She grinned, biting her lip. “You serve the Lord well. Come.”

She offered out her hands, and you took them, letting her help you to her feet and guide you to the front pew. She sat down, keeping hold of your hands, and pulled you down so you straddled her lap. She sighed, her eyes looking everywhere at you except your face.

Her fingers crawled to the straps of your dress, slowly tugging them down your bare shoulders. She recited, “How beautiful you are and how pleasing, my love, with your delights.” Her voice was quiet in the silent room, burning at your ears as you tried to stay focused with the taste of her still on your lips. Her eyes sunk down your chest as she started to pull the dress down your breasts. “I said, I will climb the palm tree; I will take hold of its fruit.”

She tugged the fabric of your dress over your breasts, exposing them as they bounced over the fabric. Taking a sharp breath, she drew one hand to your tit and squeezed the soft flesh there, earning a gasp from you.

“May your breasts be like clusters of grapes on the vine, the fragrance of your breath like apples, and your mouth like the best wine.” Her eyes, which were trained on your exposed chest in front of her, flickered up to your face, catching the gloss of her cum on her lips. She raised her other hand and spread her fingers over your lips, smearing the wetness across your mouth. “May the wine go straight to my beloved, flowing gently over lips and teeth.”

You started to throb at her touches, at her words, at her inebriated eyes. Her hand that groped your breast fell down to your thighs, urging the end of your dress upwards as it slid up your skin.

“Song of Songs 7:6-9,” she whispered with finality as she danced her fingers up your inner thigh, and you watched her hand disappear under your skirt. “Is your body a temple of God, y/n?” she asked you as she parted your panties with her fingers.

You nodded desperately, so turned on by what she had done to your mouth, so dumbed down by the verses and the touches and the taste of her. She bit her lip and moaned as her fingers touched your slick cunt, grazing over your clit before two of them sunk into your hole.

Head falling back, you grabbed at the shoulders of her robe and whined as she plunged her fingers inside you, your wetness already making a dirty squelching noise as she pumped inside of you.

“I’m not so sure it is,” she husked as she wrapped an arm around your hip to steady your bucking motions. “You’ve been a dirty girl, y/n. You’ve used your body to sin against His Word. My hand of God can only do so much—you need to beg for his forgiveness.” An evil smirk lined her lips.

You could barely hear what she was saying as she fucked her fingers into you, your hips moving up and down in desperate search for more of her. She thumbed at your clit as she waited for you to answer, leaning forward to press wet kisses on your nipples that bounced with your motions.

“Please, God,” you began shakily, “Forgive me.”

“That’s not good enough,” she tutted, suddenly pushing a third finger inside you. Your mouth fell open at the stretch and the burst of sensations that exploded when she curled her fingers inside you. “Beg Him. Beg Him to forgive you for being a dirty whore.”

“Ah!” you exclaimed when she bit your nipple, jamming her fingers into you harshly. “P-Please, God,” you began breathlessly, squeezing the Reverend’s shoulders as pressure built inside you. “Please forgive me.”

“Forgive you for?” she urged, biting your other nipple and sucking on it.

You tried to remember exactly what she had said as your orgasm threatened to impend upon you. “F-For, for being a dirty whore!” The sound of your own voice saying those words pushed you over the edge, your inner walls clenching around the Reverend’s fingers. Your hips rocked hard against her hand as she watched in pure desire and delight, grinning when you finally came down from your climax.

“Very good, my child,” she soothed as you panted, her fingers still inside you. You trembled on her lap, seeing that your wetness had dripped onto her hand and down her maroon robe. “The Lord our God is a merciful one. He forgives you.” She played with the end of your dress, moving her fingers inside you and seeing just what a mess she had made of you. She looked up at your beat red face and teary eyes, her eyes alight with an idea. “Have you ever been baptized?”

#wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff #scarlet witch #marvel #lesbian #lgbt #wanda maximoff x fem!reader

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whatnotmemes · 2 years

Text

------------WILL WOOD’S “IN CASE I MAKE IT” SENTENCE STARTERS change as needed. mentions of death, grief, mental illness, etc.

TOMCAT DISPOSABLES “Happy to be home, safe and warm.” “Here’s where I’ll be raising my kids if I can find someone to start a family with.” “Is there cheese in the great beyond?” “Mind me not and I’ll mind my own.” “I think it saw my face.” “I’ll make it through again. I have before.” “C’mon, now, what’s one more?” “My dreams were finally a reality.” “My struggles had a happy ending.” “They must want to be friends.” “Something’s not quite right.” “Guess I’ll just go rest my head.” “I held on so tight, for so long.” “Was that all there was to this?”

BECOMING THE LASTNAMES “I've learned to pick my battles by losing most I've fought.” “I'll always do it my way, even if that's just the same way I was taught.” "Wow, can you believe we really made it?" “I know you don’t want kids, but think about a daughter.” “I learned from a good father.” “I mean, sure, they messed me up, but I think that's just the gig.” “Maybe it's just some hormones that kick in in your late twenties.” “I have laid a lot of women, and now I'd like to just lay down.” “Marriage always scared me.” “Marriage always scared me, but I'd like to have a last love.” “Can we be just like my parents when I was young?” “My frontal lobe's done growing, this might just be how I'm wired.” “I've made more mistakes than simple empty moments.” “There’ll be scalpers at the cemetery gates.” “If we grow old together, will you talk to my headstone?”

CICADA DAYS “The greener grass grows where the wildfires fertilize.” “God knows crying ain't gonna change a thing.” “It just feels inhumane to lose this much.” “The ground looks soft enough to bury this now.” “Oh, please, oh no!” “Do nothing. Nothing works.” “Don’t do that if it hurts.” “Let all my red flags fade to white. Yeah, I give up.” “Don’t let me leave.” “I’ll only take more than I gave.” “Okay, I’ll pack my stuff.” “My god, what have I done?”

EUTHANASIA “I was right there, while you fought tooth and nail.” “Say you’re not scared.” “Say you know I love you.” “I know that I’m wrong.” “I want to believe that you'll remember me when you're just memory.” “Can I stop by and say hello?” “Sorry. I would take it back if I could.” “To whom is it I talk?” “It’s okay. It’ll all be over soon.” “I’d never let a bad thing happen to you.” “Everybody dies fighting for their lives, just trying to survive.” “Now I know why we say that there's a better place that waits beyond the grave.” “I choose to believe that we'll meet in sweet dreams.”

FALLING UP “I’m pulling up daisies.” “Would or could the impact kill me?” “Shoot for the stars. Be the next big constellation.” “You make a wish upon the dead but turn and call it a weed.” “Only plastic flowers never die.” “What do you know of control?” “Cut ties- shed the dead weight.” “I ain’t saying it’s fate, but there are no mistakes.” “Am I falling up?” “Is now really a good time for a new tattoo?” “The larger they are, the harder they tend to fall.” “From such height, life looks awful small.” “Second star to the right and straight on till you die.”

THAT’S ENOUGH, LET’S GET YOU HOME “Haunt my bedroom at night.” “Let’s get you home.” “They say ‘Grow up, be a man.’“ “Oh, my god, what’s wrong with me?” “Come and sweep me off my knees.” “I’d rather stay asleep than never see you wake up next to me.” “You seemed fine just a few days ago.” “Never mind, you win!” “Far too late came far too soon.” “Come, but keep your hands off of me.” “Go on back to bed, my love.” “Are you at all like me? Do you know what I mean?” “Alright, that’s enough. Let’s get you home.”

UM, IT’S KIND OF A LOT “I’m afraid of leaving my house.” “I’m afraid of dying of cancer.” “I’m afraid of losing my mind.” “I’ve never been afraid of no one breaking my heart.” “I’m afraid of damn near everything.” “I’ve grown used to fear.” “I love you so much it scares me half to death.” “I’m not used to this. How did it happen?” “I’m afraid that you’ll change your mind.” “I’m afraid there’s somebody better.” “I’m afraid you’ll notice all my flaws.” “I’m afraid I’ll come on too strong.” “I’ve never been afraid to wear my heart on my sleeve.” “I'm not used to fear of losing something I hold dear.” “Please excuse my constant need to self-aggrandize.” “Wait, let me think, hold on, I got this.” “Uhh, I mean, it's kind of a lot...”

HALF-DECADE HANGOVER “Wonder how I didn’t die.” “This is not my life.” “I’m no survivor. I only happened to survive.” “Bitch, I am reality.” “Me and sweet Evan Williams got a date down on Avenue A.” “Either this, in jail, or dead.” “Jesus Christ, my aching head.” “Man, you call that recovered?” “You said, ‘You’ve got your whole life ahead.’ Oh great, another half a century to live to regret.” “I’d rather be anybody else instead.” “I can’t make amends for things I can't remember.” “I can only say I'm sorry and occasionally pray.” “Guess you’ll just have to take my word that I’ve changed.”

VAMPIRE REFERENCE IN A MINOR KEY “I’m turning over the same old leaf again.” “If it weren’t for the ‘everything’, then anything could happen.” “If anybody needs me, I’ll be in my coffin.” “I dig you like a tomb.” “I'm sorry for the things I've done and all I ask of you.” “If you still want me, come and find me in my coffin.” “You could come knocking and I’ll raise hell for you.” “Maybe I should switch up the style of my mistakes.” “I'd kill the man I am for one more chance to be yours.” “No, I ain't begging. I'm just saying it's an option.”

YOU LIKED THIS (OKAY, COMPUTER!) “We are eager to get to know you.” “You are only human, and we are here to help.” “You will finally be not only seen, but witnessed.” “You are broken and we will heal you.” “We work in our own proprietary mysterious ways.” “We have a plan for everyone, free of charge.” “Breaking news: the news is broken.” “Your enemies have been radicalized by an unknown force but you have stayed rational by educating yourself here.” “The revolution begins here.” “Your growth is organic and natural, like a field of poppies, carcinoma, and tick fit to burst.”

THE MAIN CHARACTER “I'm that first person they talk about in all the books.” “I wrote the book about throwing the book at those who don't do it by it.” “Enough lefts don't make a right but two wrongs do.” “If you shake your fist at snakes in grass it looks like punching down.” “God forbid I'm seen just as an average human being.” “I'm the gap between a tragedy and comedy.” “Don’t come at me.” “I’m the main character and you have to like me.” “Villains are everywhere- that's how I know that I'm the hero.” “Judge me by what my cover shows.” “We all do what we need to to get through. It’s nothing new.” “I ain’t done a fucking thing to you!”

AGAINST THE KITCHEN FLOOR “I don't owe you my heart, and I don't owe you my body.” “You should know that I'm sorry for being careless with you.” “I owe you more than I'm pretty sure I ever could give anybody.” “I swear I'm really trying.” “Get it together, ___- know and do better.” “It just don't come natural to me to think that you'd want me for mе.” “I'm sorry. I promise, I'm doing my bеst.” “I just haven't learned how to be human as you are yet.” “I still don't know who you are. I only know that I'm still lonely.” “You gave me your heart. I only gave you my body.” “I’ve lived more lives than enough.” “I'm not a real person- just the shit you can't make up.” “I don't know why you would care, but I'm really trying.” “How did I cause so much harm?” “I’m sorry, but this can’t go on.” “I know you got scars of your own.” “Hide my knives before you go.” “I’ll either live or die alone.” “I will die trying.” “I'm still in the process, but I'm making progress.” "I honestly wanna prove improvement's possible.” “I swear, I'm so fucking sorry.” “I'm not a good person, I'm barely a person at all.” "Someday I'll be perfect, and I'll make up for it all.”

SEX, DRUGS, ROCK ‘N’ ROLL “I guess I’m my own boss, but everyone’s my supervisor.” “I just turned 27 and I’m dying of old age.” “Guess I’m just selfish. I wanna have but not be had.” “This is what I choose to do with my redeeming quality.” “It’s not a gift if you pay for it, but I don’t want no charity.” “I spent all my years to end up right here, and now I really think I’d rather leave.” “I hate sex, I hate drugs, and I hate rock n’ roll.” “I hate proving that I’m still human after all.” “It wouldn’t mix well with my meds.” “I hate to be ‘that guy’, but I’m not that guy anymore.” “I’m not that guy anymore and I made goddamn sure he’s dead.”

WILLARD! “You know I couldn’t hurt a fly.” “I've nearly cried for moths that die at porchlight lamps.” “I myself have been stepped on so many times, it's started to feel like my place.” “Is there room for me in your cage?” “Animals are people too, but these people are animals.” “This cage is inside out.” “It’s awful out here, ____.” “I've never understood what humans do and want.” “It’s quite confusing to me to try to connect.” “These carnivores will no more use my heart.” “They'll call me crazy but their words all seem made-up to me.” “Maybe they just need more friendship like yours.” “You've got a friend in me. Let's go and make more enemies.” “It’s dangerous out here, ____.” “It’s lonely out here, ____.”

WHITE NOISE “They paint the walls with colors that you’re not meant to notice.” “You blend into the background.” “It sorta sounds like a retro top 40 but wrong.” “You’re not meant to sing along. It isn’t that kind of song.” “You can hear the ocean if you hold it up to your ear.” “It’s theoretically dense. It’s impressive.” “It challenges Western notions of art.” “It’s going places ‘cause it comes from the heart.” “It makes no statement, but does so quite loudly.” “It’s an aesthetic. I mean, an anesthetic.” “Does it cure cancer?” “It begs the question, just to tell you the answer.” “Do you believe in the power of silence?” “You fill your head with thoughts you find you can't even feel.” “I know it's hard, but they’re not who you are.”

#ask meme #rp meme #roleplay meme #roleplay #roleplay prompts #writing prompt #rp prompts #music meme #music rp #horror rp #horror meme #angst meme #crack meme #crack rp #angst rp #fluff meme #fluff rp #lyrics meme

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buttacake80 · 17 days

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Gotta ask, you’re a lawyer, social worker, writer, NHL fan who’s been to many many games, you hold two degrees across various fields and universities, etc etc…how did you manage to do it all??? What is your life story??? Genuinely asking bc it is very admirable.

Black girl magic.

Genuinely.

When I was 4, I was sexually abused by a relative, then abused again at 6 by a neighbor. Around that same age, I was called nigger for the first time.

My dad was a military officer. I attended 6 different schools between K-8.

Through my dad, I am Black & Native. Through my mom, I am Black & Irish. My paternal grandfather was the product of rape, so he never knew his Native family. My maternal grandfather was a white Irish-American man who grew up in a sundown and attended lynchings as a young man. We learned about his racist past when my aunt went through his chest and found momentos & photos from the lynchings.

When I was a teenager, this same grandfather developed Alsheimers & would call me nigger, tar-baby, and porch monkey when I went to visit my grandma. Other times, when he didn't recognize me, he would approach me with just in his eyes. He would comb down his blond hair, adjust his clothes, then approach flirtatiously. I would have to avoid his hands.

We called him "Mr. Howard" and not grandpa.

In high school, my parents divorced, and we moved to my mother's hometown, where I befriended Black kids who were members of GD, VL, and LK. I got in trouble for fighting and was suspended and expelled from school activities for a semester.

Within a two year period, I lost 6 classmates to car accidents, including my senior year locker buddy.

In high school, I met a junior hockey player who had a crush on my best friend. He invited us to a game where he got in a fight & knocked a dude's tooth out. Thus, I fell in love with hockey.

I attended a PWI on a merit scholarship. I befriended mostly white girls, so that's how I learned about their inner group dynamics.

Got into law school. Did bad my first year. I never learned how to study. I have an excellent memory, so I would read something and retain it. That worked well in undergrad but not so well in law school. I turned my grades around by my final year, but in that same year, I lost my paternal grandfather and my roommate. My roommate died at her computer. They did multiple autopsies but never determined the cause of death. Marta just exhaled and died.

I was interviewing for a prosecutor role in Chicago when I started to have nightly visits from an old hag. I would be in lecture and have an impulse to jump from my seat and shred my clothes with my nails. I was representing a DV victim in her employment case when I had a panic attack and missed an administrative hearing. That was when I decided not to become an attorney.

After law school, I got a job at Amazon.com during its early days. I was there before the Kindle launched, and Jeff B was in my chain of command. I would get 3am emails from him. Had to leave when I found one of my coworkers sleeping under their desk.

So I moved to Ireland and got another degree. Wrote my dissertation on White Men, then returned to Amazon for a few months before jumping to work in government.

I have worked in the court system. I have been a child welfare social worker. I was hand selected to serve as a discharge social worker, working at an inpatient & FORENSIC hospital where I worked with pedophiles, murderers, and rapists. I was assaulted and left brain-injured by such a person.

I had to relearn how to walk and talk properly. I have lost jobs due to my disability and fought off abusive landlords who tried to evict me when I refused to sleep with him.

I have faced legitimate moments when I thought about ending my life, but I have such a strong desire to live. Tomorrow always brings a new day with new opportunities. I know every hardship & every trauma had only made me stronger.

Thank you for asking.

#dallas stars #nhl #nhl players #ask auntie #ask me anything #hockey #black girl magic

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beardedmrbean · 6 months

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Hey, about the black Americans taught to hate our country.

Yes we and in many other parts are treated like shit…but so was everyone else. I mean…I don’t know their exact backgrounds…but people do know a lot of Japanese creators in the entertainment industry of Japan are mostly the descendants of the “peasants” not the feudal lords?

Just asking…I mean people know the sengoku period was about Japanese CIVIL WARS?

Hell what I heard another modern imperial Japan ancestry. Their ancestors ghosts probably go “you got to be fucking kidding me” when they learn they have the same descendants

Sorry funny

But yeah we could use Bass Revees, Tuskegee Airmen, the Harlem fighters, as inspiration for black characters

“We weren’t taught that in school!” You honestly think career politicians like Hillary Clinton and Joe Biden who heavily influence the education while they push for the tough on crime bill and ensure that black Americans are 75% born out of wedlock

Would teach the fact that many black people successful lives despite systemic oppression?

Not to mention the white liberals with their savior complex would fight tooth and nail and said we were nothing until the civil rights movement

And the feminists are damn sure not to mention the fact their ogs founders were racist af and made damn sure that black men didn’t get proper voting rights until the 60’s

Also learning what the government did to my community made me more anti socialist as hell

Also we bounce back that fast from the Civil hence our “modern” American empire? Actually I heard Teddy Roosevelt say the Lincoln coffin tour when he was 6

But thanks, I wanted to used a American military outfit era that wasn’t colonial but not ww2-now

Also my Chimera republic (you know I just keep the us part until I figure out what to do with pseudo latam) is a combination of different American eras in a steampunk setting. As east coast have very colonial look with the rising art deco

While Midwest part especially the in universe Chicago is very art deco and rampant “advance “ as I watched a video on the queen of nyc glided age and I realize how different my midwestern ass is to East coast

Of course the west coast have a lot of it Spanish influence. Actually your Californian (the good ones) can you help me out with that?

And yes I’m trying to figure what to do with First Nations as my chimera republic is a fantasy America were we drop the social Darwinism is shit and DIDNT do. The residential school horror show

Of course I’m just a 23 year old man with a HS degree. But I’m pointing out we got our own culture to take inspiration and not trying to force ourselves into Asian or European cultures like what modern black activists do.

People take offense at 'your experiences are not unique' it's wild and not limited to age, race, hair colour, nationality, disability, and so on.

Me being dyslexic there's stuff I'll relate to more than most people, but I know better than to say it's purely a dyslexic thing.

Just asking…I mean people know the sengoku period was about Japanese CIVIL WARS? Hell what I heard another modern imperial Japan ancestry. Their ancestors ghosts probably go “you got to be fucking kidding me” when they learn they have the same descendants

They kept their slaves (peasants) after this one, not sure how many wars globally were fought in order to free slaves, only wars I can think of that were fought with the abolition of slavery in mind were waged by western nations. US, UK, and France specifically.

You want civil wars in Asia check out China

Some of it there really just isn't time, they have to hit the big stuff and if anything catches your eye hope people have the ability to study it themselves, much more complicated before the internet at large.

Suffragettes were massive racists fighting for white women's right to vote, but that was society at the time.

Margret sanger founding planned parenthood as a way to reduce the black population was just evil, difference between the two is one was denying rights one was attempting to deny life.

Also learning what the government did to my community made me more anti socialist as hell

That's fairly common for people that study history.

The Chimera thing, ya there's all kinds of different influences all over the place when it comes to they way things are laid out and constructed and I'd be happy to help with the Spanish influence stuff San Diego has managed that better than Los Angeles, honestly CA covers so much different kinds of terrain and has different histories you can find most anything here, so long as you don't expect to be able to afford it.

And yes I’m trying to figure what to do with First Nations as my chimera republic is a fantasy America were we drop the social Darwinism is shit and DIDNT do. The residential school horror show

First Nations, this ain't canada. lol

I'm sure you'll come up with something

Amen to that

#zoomer huey anon

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jrpneblog · 6 months

Text

Pilgrims Choice

It is a return to an old stomping ground for Ryan Lowe this week as the North End manager returns to his former club, Plymouth Argyle. Lowes choice to leave the Pilgrims in December 2021 didnt go down well at the time with the locals but time is a great healer and much water has passed under the Tamar Bridge since then. North End visit Home Park on the back of a surprise home defeat last Saturday to Stoke City in a fairly attritional game but one in which North End could have no complaints about the result. Now sitting five points adrift of the play off slots it is imperative that North End get all three points against a Plymouth side that hasn`t scored at home in the last three games and hasn`t won at home in the last five Championship encounters.

Reflecting back on last Saturday and a poor home defeat in many respects for North End who were on such a good run but once again succumb to a team in the bottom three in the table. I cannot fault the application and endeavour of North End but the visitors quite simply wanted it more than we did and fought tooth and nail from the first whistle to the last to get the result that they so desperately needed. After falling behind North End quickly replied but the tenacity of the Potters paid off in the end when they got a late goal to seal a much deserved win. The pitch didn`t help matters but it was the same for both teams so no mitigation for North End on that score. We just need to dust ourselves down and go out with an ultra positive attitude down in Devon on Saturday to get this slip up out of our heads.

North End will be without Ben Whiteman for a few weeks with an ankle injury so I guess that means that Potts can no come back in with Brown moving into the midfield. However if Ryan Lowe wants a holding player in the middle then Ryan Ledson may well be the man but but we will only find out the Pilgrims choice at 2pm on Saturday when the teams are announced. In spite of being poor at home since Xmas Plymouth have a decent home record having won eight drawn four and lost six of their eighteen home games scoring thirty eight goals and conceding thirty two. For those who like a flutter this certainly looks like a game where over 2.5 goals would be a good bet. North End have sold over 1,000 tickets for the game so the Whites will be well supported on this longest trip of the season and let`s hope the boys can do the business and make the trip worthwhile for everyone.

And finally this week:- much has been said regarding the Premier Leagues decision not to back a 900m plan for the EFL. It didn`t surprise me in the slightest but when I saw one of the ten teams voting against the deal was Bournemouth I nearly spit my brew out. It isn`t all that long ago that people were going round with buckets to help keep the club alive and this is how they repay all the 72 EFL Teams.

MATCH PREDICTION -

PLYMOUTH ARGYLE (H) League - Away win

JR`s HIGH FIVES

LUTON to beat NOTTINGHAM FOREST 9/5

A £5 Stake returns £14.00 on bet365

SEASONS STATS

Returns £96.00 Stake £155.00

Percentage profit+/-loss - 38.07%

Predictions 32 won 9 lost 23

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the-a-word-2214 · 4 years

Text

I’m Here

summary: (Y/N) is injured during a case and Jay decides that he can never forgive himself

pairing: Jay x reader

word count: 726

warnings: angst, language, fluffy domesticity

You roll over onto your side as you watch the sleeping man next to you, his dark hair seen from the back considering he was on his side. Your hand trails down the back of his white undershirt that he always slept in, you claimed that it made him look like a dad from the ‘80s.

He wakes with a start, turning to lay on his back. He pulls on his turtle frames that he never allowed the team to see.

His gaze turns to you as he sits up, propping his pillow up behind his head.

“What’s going on in that mind of yours?” You whisper as he rubs at an eye.

“I have a bad feeling about this next case of ours. It’s our biggest one yet, I can’t have you getting hurt.”

You shrug, “I’m a big girl. I can take care of myself.”

You lean forward to move his hair from his face as he sends you a weak smile. His hand comes up to rest on your cheek as you reassure him with a kiss, your hand moving to rest on his chest.

“I’ll be okay, love. Promise.”

———————————————————

You can barely make out the blurry figures of your team as you blink past unconsciousness. A muffled voice pulls you deeper into the void as your hands grasp out at your boyfriend.

The Black Chalk had infiltrated your mission, beating you and the others in the process. Jay fought tooth and nail to keep you with him as he carried your limp body to a nearby truck.

You were in and out of consciousness as he helped a nurse that they recruited to help in aiding your recovery. After all, you took the worst of the beating along with Jay. He managed to be alright after a few stitches.

—————————————————

The dimly lit fluorescent lights of the hospital room woke you up. They had you handcuffed to a bed, so much for getting out unscathed.

Jay never left your side as you regained consciousness, his hand stayed in your own throughout. Every now and then he’d kiss the back of your hand. For such a stern leader, he cherished the quiet moments with you.

“What happened...where is everyone?” Your voice is weak as you speak, it comes out raspy.

“Everyone else is in holding cells at the nearby police station. We’re going to be on the way there once you regain your strength. I told them that they’d have to kill me before I’d leave your side.” His lips quirk up as he rubs your hand.

“Look at you, you’re such a stand-up guy. Thanks baby, I owe you one.”

“I couldn’t forgive myself for what happened to you. You didn’t deserve that and I should have protected you.”

“It’s okay, Jay. I’m going to be alright.”

You knew that once you got better that you’d be separated again. A few months in prison couldn’t do you much harm, it would be okay in the end. Your team already had a rendezvous for when you’d all get out of prison.

After a few goodbyes, several men take Jay away while your bed is rolled somewhere else entirely. They ship you off to a prison nearby where you’re held for a few months. The only thought on your mind being when you’d get to see Jay again.

——————————————————

You wait with K outside of the prison where Jay was located. You watched as a man with a fake beard walked out, it was hard to contain your laughter as he walked closer to you.

“That is some get up, babe. I almost didn’t recognize you.” He pulls you in for a kiss as K hops onto a nearby bus where the rest of the team was located.

Jay takes your hand and helps you onto the bus, you greet your friends with hugs as you situate yourself next to your now fiancé.

The rest of the A.L.F begin to discuss the next plan as you all pull on your masks. Even an old woman near your group gets a mask.

“Are we ready to go?” You ask as you pull your mask over your nose.

“We are, Lucy Mirando is going to be there.” Jay announces to the team as you all prepare yourself for the next steps of your new mission.

#jay okja #silver okja #blonde okja #k okja #red okja #okja 2017 #okja #jay x reader #paul dano x reader #paul dano

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ragingbookdragon · 3 years

Text

Panthera Felidae et Celeritas

Barry Allen x Meta!Reader One-Shot

Word Count: 2K Warnings: Explicit Language

Author's Note: Gonna make a second part...sometime...later...Enjoy! -Thorne

**********************************************************************

The meta-human was fast. And while he wasn’t as fast as Barry, he’d managed to snap the speedster’s femur with a well-placed kick. Barry went down, holding his leg whilst he grit his teeth and shoved his bone back into place so it’d heal; Hal landed beside him, ready to pick up the slack and protect his best friend.

Striding towards them, the meta had a sick grin on his face as he ribbed, “I’m going to use your spine as a toothpick, Lantern.”

“I’d like to see you try,” Hal shot back, baring his teeth as he raised his arm, ready to form a construct when a hulking figure of orange, black, and white fur darted from around the corner of a building, sprinting right up to the meta.

It reared onto its hind legs, one big front paw swiping down harshly at the meta, connecting to the middle of its back, and both Hal and Barry watched the man’s eyes widen in first a look of shock, the next of pain as a sickening crack sent the meta to the ground, upper body spazzing as their lower body stilled.

“I can’t feel my back!” he screamed in agony and the beast bent down, its face next to the man’s and opened its mouth, snarling fiercely, flashing long, razor sharp canines. The meta whimpered, squeezing his eyes shut and the beast took one last look at him before turning its golden eyes onto Barry and Hal.

They stared back with equal mixtures of fear, but the beast chuffed and turned tail, bounding away as quickly as it had come.

“What the fuck just happened?” Hal asked.

Barry shook his head, blue eyes wide as he said, “I have no idea…but I think there’s a tiger loose in Central City.”

***

There were big cat sightings all over Central City—cheetahs, cougars, jaguars, leopards, snow leopards, ligers, lions, tigers; someone even said they saw a saber tooth tiger, which Barry highly doubted, but sure enough when he’d gotten to the scene and tested the DNA, it linked to a few scientific discoveries and genomes closely relating to the extinct beast.

He’d half a mind to bring the League in on the discoveries, but the animals weren’t killing people, and he was still reeling on how to explain to his team that there were animals running around that weren’t even native to the US, nor having populations in the state. Oddly enough though, the animals were never seen in the same place at the same time. Each sighting was on a different night with a different big cat, telling Barry that this had to be some type of trainer releasing the cats on particular times.

He spent almost an hour, well a human hour, not a speedster hour, triangulating territory across Central City before he finally found a common location inside the sightings—an old amusement park that had been shut down a few years before, waiting on renovations when someone would finally buy it.

So, what did Barry do? What Barry did best—he went alone to see which kitty cat he could find first.

***

The entire park was eerie, dark and creaking, rusted metal and cracked plastic everywhere. It almost made him think of those post-apocalyptic video games. Still though, he quelled his fears, though they boiled in his stomach, and hopped over the barriers, quietly walking the silent park.

Every noise had the hair on the back of his neck rising, turning in circles to look behind him at whatever it was, and at one point, he briefly considered calling for Superman—nothing gave you nerves of steel like the Man of Steel.

Shaking his head, he reaffirmed his own abilities. He could do this. He was fast enough to escape danger, he just had to sense it coming.

The sound of nails on metal echoed in Barry’s ears and he shivered, peeking around the corner of an abandoned booth to see a sleek black jaguar scratching at a metal door until it shoved open, and it slipped inside.

His brows furrowed and he looked around before quickly following it, slipping inside the doorway. It led down a further hall and into a tunnel, and with the large metal pistons and wheels in the walls, he assumed it was the underneath of an out of order roller coaster.

Glancing down, he saw paw prints in the dusty ground that obviously hadn’t been disturbed in a couple decades. Barry frowned and continued down the hallway, coming around a corner.

The second he turned it, he ran smack dab into something, and he gasped, immediately shoving out. Whatever had run into him went to the ground with a pained grunt and he blinked in the darkness, looking down, surprise bleeding through him as a woman’s face cleared in the darkness.

Barry had so many thoughts running through his head, but their safety overrode it and he bent down, hauling her up as he whispered harshly, “Never mind what you’re doing here, we have to leave now.”

“What?” she hissed back, letting him tug her down the hallway. “Who are you!”

“My name is Barry. I work at CCPD.” He glanced back at her, well, over her shoulder. “There’s a big cat somewhere down here and we need to get away. If my calculations are right, there are more around.”

“Wait, you know?” she questioned, feet skidding to a halt and Barry looked back at her.

“What do you mean? That the big cats are hiding around here?” she nodded, and he tipped his head. “Yeah. I figured it out with the police scans and public sightings.”

Her jaw started to go slack, and he tugged her again. “C’mon, we have to get out of here before that panther comes back.”

“It’s a jaguar.”

He stopped. “What?”

She pulled her wrist out of his grip. “It’s a black jaguar not a panther.”

Barry cocked a brow. “How do you know?”

“I…” she seemed hesitant, diverting her gaze. “I can’t tell you right now.” She hurried past him. “But you don’t have to worry. There are no cats here.”

“But my calculations—”

“Are wrong, Blake. There are no cats here.”

“It’s Barry,” he retorted. “Barry.”

“Whatever your name is,” she scowled, pushing the door open so they could both get out.

As they did, he pulled out his phone and shone the flashlight upwards so he could see her features. “Who are you?”

She blinked. “It’s not important.”

“It is. If you know about the big cats roaming the city and hurting people, then I need to know.”

Her face pinched. “They’re not hurting people. They’re helping.”

Barry recalled the meta-human incident—the meta’s spine had been broken in one swipe of that tiger’s paw. “Breaking spines and other important body parts isn’t helping people.”

“It’s not like I’m eating the criminals!” she shouted, then slapped her hands over her mouth, eyes wide and Barry gaped at her.

“What did you just say?”

She shook her head. “Nothing! I didn’t say anything!”

“No, you said something alright. It sounded like you said you weren’t eating the criminals.” He leaned closer. “Who are you and what do you know about the cats?”

For a moment, she merely gazed at him, then she let out a heavy sigh, shoulders drooping as she resigned herself. “Alright…I’ll talk.” She exhaled. “My name is (Y/N) (L/N). I’m a part-timer at the STAR Labs research facility. A few months ago…I was helping one of the scientists identify a common DNA strand found in the Panthera family and how it would react if spliced together in a new animal when—”

She trailed off, unsure of herself and Barry encouraged, “When?”

(Y/N) sighed again. “I don’t know. There was a mistake with the experiment. Some kind of electromagnetic shock that caused an entire building outage.”

“What else?” he questioned, and she shrugged.

“When we went inside after the power was back on, the test subject was deceased. Doctor Lesia asked me to clean up and I did, but I must’ve gotten contaminated somehow. Maybe through an open wound? I don’t know.”

She inhaled, meeting Barry’s blue eyes. “The DNA sequencing experiment didn’t fail though.”

“Why do you say that?” he asked curiously and she looked towards the door.

“Give me a moment.” As she walked back inside, she quickly stuck her head out and said, “Don’t be alarmed and don’t run, okay?”

He was wary of that and after a few moments, he heard scratching at the door and the door handle bent down, then the door pulled open, and the black jaguar bounded out.

Barry was quick to step back with a sharp, “Shit!” but the cat didn’t do anything, it merely sat down and looked at him; he took a closer look, eyes widening and he breathed, “Oh my God…it resequenced your DNA.”

She nodded, making a low growling noise, then disappeared back inside, only to reappear herself once more. “I’ve been able to transform into any cat whose DNA sequence belongs to the Panthera family.” (Y/N) shook her head. “I have to transform at least once a day, or it’ll happen without my control, and I can’t risk it happening at my job or out in public. So, I come here and transform, then run around Central City.”

“And fight crime,” he surmised, and she tipped her head side to side.

“It didn’t start out like that, honest. I realized I had all this energy pent up and running and scouring seemed to get it out.” (Y/N) blinked. “The first time I ever fought ‘crime’ was when I stopped a meta human from attacking Flash and Green Lantern.”

Barry stared at her. “You broke the meta-human’s spine.”

She winced. “I…didn’t realize I’d hit him with that much strength…but it was that or risk him hurting another hero and I didn’t want that to happen.” (Y/N) looked at him. “Please…please don’t tell anybody you know this. I’ll stop, just please don’t tell anyone. If you do, who knows what government science squad will come after me and kidnap me.”

Her face was the picture of pure terror and she reached out, grabbing Barry’s jacket, tears welling in her eyes as she begged again, “Please Barry, don’t tell anyone.”

Barry took her hands, squeezing them gently. “I won’t. I promise.”

She blinked tearfully and asked, “You won’t?”

“No, I won’t tell.” He smiled at her and fiddled with the ring on his hand, showing her the lightning symbol on it. “Not after I owe you for saving me and Green Lantern.”

(Y/N) eyes widened, and she gaped at the ring, then at his face. “You—you’re him…the Flash.”

He nodded. “Yeah.” Barry sighed, looking around, seeing the moon high in the sky. “Look, it’s late right now. Why don’t we both go home for the night and meet up sometime later?”

“To do what?” she questioned, and he met her eyes.

“Well, I doubt we’ll be able to undo the resequencing of your DNA. There’s no telling how damaging it could be to you if we try.” He thought for a moment, then decided, “So how about this, we meet up, and we’ll see about training you.”

(Y/N)’s face pinched. “But I’m not a speedster?”

“True, but technically you’re like me. You’re a meta-human now.” Barry smiled, wide and toothy. “And if there’s one thing I know how to do—it’s help meta-humans control their powers.”

She searched his gaze for a few moments, then she nodded. “Alright…that seems like a fair plan.” (Y/N) held out her hand and Barry took it, shaking it firmly. “Glad to be apart of the team, Flash.”

“Glad to have you, er…” his brows furrowed. “Do you have a name yet?”

(Y/N) pursed her lips in thought, then her face lit up and she replied, “Panthera.” Barry snorted and she flushed. “I know…I’m a nerd.”

He shook his head. “So am I.”

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soymemes · 2 years

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IN CASE I MAKE IT

lyrical starters from "in case i make it" by will wood (PART 1/3)

---tomcat disposables

"So, here's where I'll be raising my kids."

"I'll dream of the day my odds and ends fit."

"Life gets short."

"Do I belong in right and wrong?"

"Nature, I guess."

"So I run for cover."

"One hungry day is nothing."

"I'll make it through again, I have before."

"My dreams were finally reality."

"I expect no dreams."

"I held on so tight."

"Was that all there was to this?"

"What's for the best?"

"Meet me there after I'm gone."

"One dies alone."

---becoming the lastnames

"I've learned to pick my battles by losing most I've fought."

"I'll always do it my way."

"That's just the same way I was taught."

"Wow, can you believe we really made it?"

"I want to be just like my parents."

"I learned from a good father."

"Now I'd just like to lay down."

"Marriage always scared me, but I'd like to have a last love."

"Love can last a pretty good long while."

"But what do I know 'bout forever?"

"If you want a hyphen last name, I guess I don't mind the cadence."

"I've made more mistakes than simple empty moments."

"I'd have forgotten all their names, so why should you remember me?"

"If we grow old together, will you talk to my headstone?"

---cicada days

"God knows crying ain't gonna change a thing."

"I take more than I bring."

"It just feels inhumane to lose this much."

"'Cause when you leave you know you takе more than your love."

"We're losing touch."

"LET ALL MY RED FLAGS FADE TO WHITE!"

"I GIVE UP!"

"Okay, I'll pack my stuff!"

"My God, what have I done?"

"Now it feels damn inhumane to get all I've dreamed of."

"You're worth it."

"Tommorrow's too late."

---euthanasia

"You fought tooth and nail."

"Say you're not scared."

"Say you know I love you."

"Hope was just not there."

"When you're gone, you're gone."

"I want to believe that you'll remember me when you're just memory..."

"Sorry I would take it back if I could."

" I want to believe that you can still hear me when you're just memory."

"It'll all be over soon."

"I'd never let a bad thing happen to you."

"Now goodnight I love you."

"Everybody dies."

"I know why we say that there's a better place that waits beyond the grave."

---falling up

"Would or could the impact kill me?"

“Shoot for the stars."

"You make a wish upon the dead but turn and call it a weed."

"Only plastic flowers never die."

"What do you know of control?"

"Cut ties, shed the dead weight."

"Is now really a good time for a new tattoo?"

"The larger they are the harder they tend to fall."

"Life looks awful small."

"Love us or hate us."

---falling up

"My dream girl, those eyes, that nose."

"They say 'Grow up, be a man'"

“Goodbye, cruel world”

"What’s wrong with me?"

"Dream girl, come and sweep me off my knees."

"I’d rather stay asleep than nеver see you wake up next to mе."

"You seemed fine just a few days ago."

“Never mind, you win!”

"Far too late came far too soon."

"Alright, that’s enough, let’s get you home."

---um, i mean, it's kind of a lot

"I'm afraid of leaving my house"

"I'm afraid of dying of cancer"

"I'm afraid of losing my mind"

"I've never been afraid of no one breaking my heart."

"I'm afraid of damn near everything."

"I've grown used to fear."

"I love you so much it scares me half to death."

"I'm not used to this, how did it happen?"

"I'm afraid that you'll change your mind."

"I'm afraid there's somebody better."

"I'm afraid you'll notice all my flaws. I'm afraid you already have."

"I'm afraid I'll come on too strong, hold you too tight, and scare you too."

"I never been afraid to wear my heart on my sleeve."

"If you cut me, I'll bleed."

"Hold me at claw's length."

"I'm not used to fear of losing something I hold dear."

"I promise I'll shut up."

"Uhh, I mean, it's kind of a lot..."

-----

#will wood #lyrical starter #roleplay meme #rp meme #wwattw #in case i make it #icimi

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mutantrenegade · 2 years

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Just a reminder to all you youths out there:

It's still perfectly okay to identify as bisexual. And I say this as one of them non binerys you're reading about in all the papers these days.

Yes, with the increased visibility of trans and gnc folk and the rise of terfs, saying you're attracted to "both genders" certainty is a much more suspicious now.

Yes, pansexual is a better term that better includes trans and gnc folk. And I suspect over time it will replace bisexual as the primary term for liking more than one gender.

HOWEVER

Bisexual as a term has been around for a while now and you know there are plenty of bisexuals who love and support trans and gnc.

Fellow trans and gnc folk: you know as much as I do how important our identities are to us. And how much it can mean to be called YOUR identity because of how hard you and those before you had to fight to be allowed to say it. And part of fighting for our rights was always the early drafts. I mean lesbians are still trying to figure out their flag and they head they acronym. Think about how a lesbian who fought tooth and nail to be able to fly the Labrys flag back in 1999 is gonna feel when 20 years later people tell her the flag is exclusionary. And I'm not saying that the issues with things like "only two genders" and the labrys flag are unimportant. They very much are and something we should be working to spread awareness of. But the label isn't as important as the person. If a 70 year old gay man who was nearly beaten to death at school by people didn't get in trouble for it, had his entire friend group die of aids, and got fired from his job for being gay wants to call himself a faggot, fuck yeah man more power to him. If he supports trans and gnc people, he can call himself whatever makes him feel proudest to be him. I don't give a shit if it's the most sheltered liberal art school white girl who makes her whole ass personality "bisexual slut." If she thinks trans women are women and trans men are men, non binary people are non binary, thinks they are just as hot as cis folk, and knows that not all bisexuals are sex mad that asexual biromantics are just as bi as her, fucking go for it girl.

The label isn't the important part, it's the person behind the label. If you see someone using an outdated label, just politely ask why before you say anything.

#lgbt #bisexual #pansexual #trans #nonbinary #gnc #asexual #aromantic

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rainestorm2556 · 2 years

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What’s scary about roe v Wade is that it’s only the start of a huge thing that will destroy so many lives. If you have a miscarriage you can be tried for abortion and put in prison. Roe v. Wade was also the right for women to have bank accounts. And here’s the thing: not even if you’re raped can you have an abortion. People who get an abortion because they were raped get punished harsher than the rapist themselves! In the notes they also said they’re planning on looking into gay marriage. All of you are a knock away from death’s door. Why do you, an old white man, get to make decisions for my people? You force women to have children but then you don’t want to feed them, cause there’s no baby formula anywhere, and you also won’t keep them safe at school. The longest we went without a school shooting was when we were in lockdown. What are they gonna do next, bring slavery back? Oh wait, capitalism is a little too similar to slavery for my liking! Independence is a lie. The very country we fought tooth and nail to not be a part of is exactly what we’ve become. Why is this just allowed. Why is this okay. So many women will die from illegal abortions or get killed by their partners for not being able to have one. Women shouldn’t have to live in fear yet we do. Why do these old men get to make decisions about my body? Why do they get to decide if it’s okay or not for me to want to marry or be with someone of the same gender as me? America claims to be a democracy and a republic but we are one step away from becoming a dictatorship. I’m already going to get enough shit for being a Hispanic woman, I don’t need to hear you trying to control who I marry or whether or not I can have a kid.

#roe v wade #abortion rights #lgbtq #scotus #minorities #feminism

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ouahe · 2 years

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The theme for our March AU Week is: Regency! It launched today and will end on Saturday, April 2nd at midnight EST. If you’re a fan of Jane Austen or Bridgerton, then this is the AU event for you!

Important Note: If you and another member choose to write nsfw and explore the style similar to that of Bridgerton, per our rules, we want to remind everyone all nsfw related replies must be placed under a read more and tagged accordingly. Nsfw must be consensual writing for all parties involved and only permitted for members and their characters who are 18+. Once again, different ships are permitted this week for those of you who are interested.

“We are all fools in love.” - Charlotte Lucas

Plot: It’s the 19th Century and we find our beloved Once Upon a Time characters faced with another battle. No spells, beans, or villains this time! Matters of the heart, wealth, status, and politics are what they face. How will our characters handle such situations? Will they be independent and follow their hearts? Or will they follow the norms of society?

BELLE: Early twenties, in a relationship with Robert. She’s an heiress after her mother died and despite being a female, she works hard for her family and takes on the responsibility that comes with that. CORA: 38, former girlfriend of Robert. Loved him but she loved money more in her youth, and now being unhappily married to Sir Henry Mills all these years has made her regret her choice. She’s determined to get the man she really loves back. Mother of Regina. Personality: haughty, pompous, domineering, and condescending. DAVID: Mid-thirties. Dragged into being an heir after his half brother died. He had to climb up the social ladder and fought tooth and nail to be seen as the gentleman he is today. Uncle of Emma Nolan. EMMA: 20, daughter of the late Sir James and Lady Jacqueline Nolan and niece of David Nolan. Regarding love, she dislikes Neal in the beginning, but the two come to fall in love in the end. In her form of grief of losing both parents, Emma can be very opinionated and sometimes rebellious. Tink is her best friend. JEFFERSON: 29, born into a humble family of tailors and worked his way to become a tailor to the wealthy. Partnering his business with an old friend, Robert. Seen as a ladies' man but is pining away for David. NEAL: 23. Regarding love, he also dislikes Emma in the beginning, but the two come to fall in love later. REGINA: 20, daughter to Regina. Courting Daniel behind her mother’s back. ROBERT: 32. Ex to Cora Mills, proposed to her and had his heartbroken. Best friends with Jefferson and runs a business with him as a weaver/tailor. While he inherited money, he’s not interested in it but remains part of society for Belle as he loves her. SNOW WHITE: Rival to David Nolan. Wants to use Emma’s grief and the scandal of her family having a history of an affair in the family against everyone.

Members: Please indicate in your posts/interactions that they’re part of our AU Week in your tags. If we messed up your information or you haven’t signed up for the event and would like to, please reach out to one of us and let us know.

Lurkers: If you wish to send our members asks about our AU Week, you’re welcome to do so now.

If you have any questions, please don’t hesitate to ask.

- Mod Team

#au week #au week: regency #ouat rp #ouat roleplay #ouat rpg #disney rp #regency rp #announcements

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hermitcraftfun · 4 years

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CW// Death, funeral, severe decomposition, post mortem corpse care, mourning (please tell me to add more in the tags if I need to. I happily will)

Wilburs Funeral

This is sort of an au. The only differences are-

schlatt was embalmed and was going to have an open casket funeral

Wilbur was the servers mortician and was trained to handle perma deaths and care for deaths of significance. He was training BBH to take his place

Philza was exhausted when the pounding on his door pulled him from dreams of a nicer ending. He stumbled out of bed and grabbed his sword, just in case. He checked opened it and laying on the floor was nothing but a piece of paper. He carried it in and sat down, turning on one of his oil lamps. He sighed as he read the note, recognizing his eldest’s handwriting. He just sat there for a while feeling the contrasting ink against the parchment.

Bad had a similar experience, though he couldn’t tell who wrote it. He went back to completing the work Wilbur had given, excited to take on the mantle of the country’s only mortician and funeral director. It was left wide open and he was thankful there hadn’t been any new permanent deaths since Wilbur. He just had to take the occasional house call to care for a few people after a nasty fall or a friend not realizing they were low on health.

When they both walked outside of the former rebel hideout, what they hadn’t expected to see was Techno standing over an empty hole holding a plaque. When asked what they were called upon for the reason shocked them.

“We have to give him a proper burial… He was left to rot.”Techno says trying to hide the nasty emotions squeezing the air from his lungs.

He guided his father and his friend’s mentor into Pogtopia and to Wilbur’s old room. On the man’s cot was something that made Phil sick to his stomach. He had to step aside to process his emotions. Bad on the other hand didn’t know how to feel. There lay one of the many things Wil had tried preparing him for. He just never expected to have to deal with it.

Bad looked to the man who had unleashed Withers upon the nation his brother built.”Why? I thought you were bloodthirsty or whatever….”Confusion filled his face as he looked from the cot to the warrior once changed from his typical uniform to an all-black ensemble.

Techno sighed.”No matter what… Everyone deserves a proper burial. Whether they lost in battle, or if they were a hero. Wilbur doesn’t deserve to rot in that room. He wanted to be buried. He’s getting buried.”He muttered sadly, looking at Bad. Bad believed he was the first to see the man who everyone believed to be chaos incarnate look so desperate.

Bad nodded softly, a solemn look on his face. He walked over to his former mentor and began examining his condition.”Get a cauldron and a cloth.”He softly said to the other and began working trying to offset the effects rigor mortis had on his Wil’s body.” and have Phil get brown, white, yellow, and red dyes…” He added softly as he works. He hoped to keep Phil away until they could get the body to look less decomposed.

Bad took deep breaths as he went to Wilbur’s care kit and pulled out what he would need. He began undressing the body so he could take care of jaundice and skin slip. Bad had Techno pick out an outfit as he used some of the clothes he had removed to stuff the body cavities that had sunken in, being as careful not to cut into an artery and cause more blood to drain. When he finished the mouth was sutured shut and eyes were closed.

Phil came back feeling better about seeing his son now that he didn’t have to see his son in too severe a state of decay. It took a while but the three were able to get the body dressed. Then Bad decided to leave it up to Phil and Techno to try and get the proper color for Wil’s skin. There was a tiny argument on how to do the man’s hair as well. It was calming, therapeutic.

Bad laid out the stretcher that he and Wilbur had used for Schlatt. He guides them in moving the body onto the gurney and carefully guiding the body up to the surface. Bad helped Techno lay the body into the grave and let Phil stake the plaque acknowledging his son’s final resting place. Bad started off the funeral as he was told.

“Here we lay Wilbur Soot to rest. A son. A brother. A husband and a father. This event is observed by his elder brother, his father, and his apprentice. He fought tooth and nail for a nation he built for his brothers and son. He succumbed to stress and was manipulated into destroying his home. He truly deserved more. I will now let his father share his parting words and then allow his brother to take the torch.”Bad was quiet. He felt terrible that a man who cared for this server’s dead only had three giving thought to his body.

Phil took in a deep, shaky breath.”How you left was nowhere near fair. I had just gotten to spend time with you after being forced away for so many years… I’ll never forget when you were younger how you always annoyed me with your loud music… You boys taught me more about being a good man more than anything has…” It was clear that the man was close to breaking into tears as he began sniffling, holding his eldest’s hand.”I remember his final moments… I wish I could’ve saved him… I wished he wasn’t in the ground… But the one thing I can do is provide him a proper burial.” He had devolved into slow, quiet, tears before looking to Techno to offer him a chance to speak.

Techno broke his stare from his father to his brother, wiping his eyes. “There are very few people I care about in this damn world… And to not only learn that you had died but our brothers were happy to let you rot, with no one to send you off…” The warrior’s grip tightened on his father’s hand as a new form of rage burned in his chest. “They gave a man who stole your nation a funeral! You were the one who embalmed him! And they left you to rot with not an ounce of dignity!” He was crying tears that felt red hot in the cold air. “Everyone deserves a proper burial. I don’t care what he did. He deserves one too.” He finally whimpered out to the other two.

After Bad gave the closing statement they all passed a shovel around, slowly filling the grave until it was full, and the only thing that distinguished it was a lack of grass.

The ghost had hidden before the three walked away to their homes. He sat in front of his own grave and paused. Salt. He hadn’t tasted it since he was alive.

#corpse tw #death tw #funeral tw #decomposition tw #mcyt fandom #dreamsmp #dreamsmp fanfic #fanfic #technoblade #techno mcyt #wilbur soot #wilbur mcyt #bbh #badboyhalo #badboyhalo mcyt #dreamsmp au

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fluffykitty1999-blog · 3 years

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Dog of the Military- Chapter 27

Chapter 27- Operative One- Captured

"Roy Mustang here." he'd stayed late at the office today, pretending to do paperwork. But really, he'd been expecting this call.

"Roy. It's your favorite Aunt."

"You are my only Aunt, Auntie." Roy couldn't keep himself from smiling.

"Well an old friend of yours has stopped by my bar-"

In the background, Roy heard girls shrill voices, and a command barked in a strange tongue, followed by the sounds of flesh striking flesh.

"He simply couldn't wait to see you, so I figured I'd give you a call."

"Of course." Roy slid his gloves into his pocket, smirking. "I'll be there soon.".

The bar was deserted, and Roy strode in, looking around. Vanessa came down the stairs- the side of her face was starting to swell, and she was going to have one heck of a black eye.

"Ness?" he asked, looking her over critically.

"It's fine." she brushed him off happily, giving him a wining smile.. "He got one good shot in, but then the other girls all stormed the room. He's upstairs with your Aunt and them all right now."

"Is anybody else hurt?"

"Andrea had a bloody nose, but it's not bad. Who is this guy, anyways?"

"Foreign intelligence. He's a Drachman agent- and he may have tried to take Edward."

"Edward? That's the little alchemist, right? The one who's just a kid?"

Roy couldn't help the smile that tugged the corner of his lips. "Yeah. That's him. But don't call him small."

"Right. Come get this bastard, then." Vanessa grabbed his hand, pulling him up the stairs. Her purple skirt fluttered behind her, but Roy focused straight ahead, swallowing. Now wasn't a time to remember old memories- now was a time to focus on the task at hand.

Vanessa led him down the hallway, opening the heavy oak door to her room.

The folding bed had been folded back up into the bureau, giving them much more room. Andrea held a bloody handkerchief to her nose, brown eyes staring daggers at the center of the room, though the blonde smiled at Roy. Tracy stood in the corner, arms crossed, surveying the scene with the calm coal dark eyes of the Xinganese woman she was.

And Rachel, the green eyes brunette, stood shouting at the man, who was currently hogtied to a wooden chair in the middle of the room, struggling furiously against his bonds.

Madame Christmas sat in a chair of her own- she was in her black bodice and skirt as usual, not a purple feather out of place on her black hat. The only thing that gave her away as the 'master' of the room was the revolver she held in her white gloved hand. She smiled when Roy entered the room.

"So nice of you to drop by, Roy. Is this the man?"

Roy looked over. The man had long, greasy brown hair that fell to his shoulders. His eyes were silver. He wore a rough brown coat and black slacks, and he stared at Roy with a look of hatred on his face.

"Not exactly the one, but I'm sure he knows what I'm looking for."

"Ya tebe nichego ne skazhu!" the man spat furiously, struggling further against his bonds.

Roy cocked an eyebrow- he was definitely speaking Drachman.

"Do you speak any Amestrian at all?"

"Filthy amestrian dog!" the man cried, trying to kick out at Roy but failing.

Roy stepped forward and slammed his fist into the man's eye. The man's head snapped to the side, before he was glaring at Roy again, panting from his frantic struggles and looking at him with animosity.

"Now we're getting somewhere." Roy smirked, tilting the man's head back.

"Who sent you?"

"I tell you nothing, dog!" the man was back to snarling and struggling against his bonds.

Roy backhanded the man.

"What do you want with the Fullmetal Alchemist!?"

The man was still when he mentioned Edward, and his eyes widened a fraction.

"Ah, so you do know something then. Your mission- what does it have to do with the Fullmetal Alchemist?"

"I... I tell nothing!" the man said simply.

"Alright. So you don't want to talk about the mission. Do you know who I am?"

"Amestrian Dog." the man spat.

Roy pulled his gloves from his pocket and slid one on. He watched as the man saw the array on the back of his gloves- how the man's eyes widened slightly, his nostrils flaring as his pulse quickened, and Roy knew the man recognized it now. He smirked.

"I'll ask once again- do you know who I am?"

The man hesitated for a split second. "Flame."

Roy nodded cheerily, pulling on his other glove. "Yes. I am the Flame Alchemist. Commanding officer of the Fullmetal Alchemist. Who are you?"

The man shook his head. "I tell nothing."

"His name is Alessi, Roy." Vanessa spoke up.

Roy looked up from his interrogation, realizing he wasn't alone in the room with the man.

"Right. Alessi. Well, ladies, I'm going to have to ask that you give me some time alone to converse with my dear friend Alessi."

"Of course, Roy." Vanessa batted her eyes at him and headed for the door, the other three girls and his aunt filing out behind them.

The Drachman looked up from his chair, pupils dilating in fear as he realized he was going to be alone with Roy. He swallowed. The heavy oak door fell closed behind them.

"How many other agents are there, Alessi?"

"We are many. You won't stop us!"

"Won't stop you from what? What is your mission here, Alessi?"

Alessi fell silent, glaring at Roy in defiance.

Roy smirked. "Have it your way, then."

He snapped his fingers.

LINEBREAK LINEBREAK LINEBREAK LINEBREAK LINEBREAK

It was three hours later Roy delivered a very singed Drachman Operative to the Investigations branch. He knew Hughes would be staying late anyways, but still, his best friend looked slightly pissed at him.

"You didn't think to let me come with while you interrogated this guy?" he asked, looking miffed.

"He wouldn't talk much anyways, Hughes. Doesn't speak much Amestrian. He only reacted to the basics- his mission has something to do with Fullmetal and Banks. There's more than one operative. That's all we had before."

"We have linguistics in investigations. I could've gotten a translator in, tried to cut a deal." Hughes said, running a hand through his hair in frustration.

"Who's to say you can't do that tomorrow?"

Hughes sighed, looking up at him tiredly. "You're impossible sometimes, you know that?"

Roy shrugged, grabbing a chair and pulling it up to the other side of Hughe's desk, looking at the evidence bags carefully. "So- what do you have?"

He was caught off guard when His friend reached over and plucked a hair from his head with tweezers.

"Ouch!"

"Sorry. I need a sample. Ah, it's what I thought." Hughes smirked, inspecting the hair under a magnifying glass beneath his desk lamp. "Your hair is the same color, but far too straight. And too short"

"Too straight for what?"

"I found a black hair in Ed's room, on the floor. It was curly- yours is too straight. I managed to interview Ed earlier- he said the man who grabbed him had long curly black hair and silver eyes. And his blood type is B-. We're building quite the profile here. I'm hoping with a translator present we can get Alessi to at least rat on one of his buddies."

"Good luck with that." Roy said simply, flexing his hand. He'd jammed one of his fingers punching the man in the face.

Hughes frowned. "Ed mentioned something about not wanting to sleep at the hospital."

"I know that. He fought me tooth and nail too."

"I heard him talking to Alphonse when I stepped out to get coffee. He said he has a hard time sleeping with you're not there."

"He has Armstrong on protection detail tonight. He'll be safe."

"You and I both know that's not what he meant. He thinks of you as a father. He feels safe when you're nearby. You're really going to brush that off for an investigation?"

"You think I'm neglecting him!?" Roy snapped. "You think I'm neglecting the boy I put my career on the line for to bring into the military? You think I'm neglecting the kid I went to bat for in court? You think I'm neglecting him because I haven't had any proper sleep in days because I'm trying to keep him safe from all the people who want him dead!?" Roy slammed both hands on the table and stood, eyes smouldering.

"Whoah. Let's take a step back for a minute." Hughes held both hands up, trying to placate him. "I just... that's not what I meant." Hughes frowned. "I just... I just meant that it's really special that Ed feels safe around you. And that he thinks of you as a father. That's all I meant. I'm sorry if it came out any other way. Sometimes I forget- Ed isn't like Elicia. He's military."

"Yeah, he is." Roy ran a hand through his hair, sighing heavily as he sat down. "So he's gonna have to sleep alone in the hospital tonight. I know he'd rather have me stay there, but he's safe with Armstrong, and the sooner I solve the Drachman problem, the sooner he's safe. Once he's out of the line of fire I can spend more time with him. I can probably get a few hours of shut eye in my office on the couch..."

"You're not going home?" Hughes asked, looking surprised.

"What's the point? It's pretty empty without the boys there."

"Whoa." Hughes looked blown away.

"What?" Roy cocked an eyebrow at his friend.

Hughes took off his glasses and started to clean them with his handkerchief, breaking ino a grin. "Nothing- I just... never heard you sound so much like a dad before. It's.. different. But it's good. I'm glad for you." Hughe's glasses reflected the light for a moment as he slid them back onto his face, giving him a wane smile.

"But this case isn't going to blow wide open over night. Go home and get some sleep- I'll call you as soon as I get a translator in to speak to Alessi."

"What if I missed something?" Roy eyed the investigation files.

"If you missed it then I'll find it. I've gotten more sleep than you have over these past few days- goodnight, Roy."

Roy sighed, standing and heading for the door. "Goodnight."

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lady-agni · 4 years

Text

Little Bird _ Ch 4

CH 1 // CH 2 // CH 3 AO3 // FF

CHAPTER 4 : SECRET GARDEN

SUMMARY: AU. A haunting in the Higurashi Shiro: A tragic event... and Kagome is forced to move in with her legendary grandfather. But the moment she steps into his Shiro, is when the haunting begins... and what’s with the silver statue in the garden?

PAIRING: InuKag

GENRE: Horror, Romance

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Last time:

Nope! Nope, nope, nope! She was not going back in there. Even if it was cold outside.

She turned back to the handsome statue as she contemplated. Kagome took a tentative step towards it, nervous that it would somehow come alive with a flurry of growls. She reached out slim fingers and spread them over it’s chiseled chest, feeling the warmth radiate off it again. So strange, she thought.

The growling did not return. So she made up her resolve and slid down it’s length, cocooning herself between it’s billowing pants and closed her eyes, wrapping her arms around herself and leaning her head on it’s leg. She’d rather sleep out here she decided. Surprised at how warm she was becoming, the comforting temperature and the sounds of the night lulled her to sleep.

Bliss.

Pure and utter bliss.

‘Wake up.’

Kagome scrunched her brows and turned to her side, ignoring the voice in favor of her peaceful sleep. It’d been days since she slept this good. No nightmares, no hauntings, just a calm steady serenity.

‘Wake the hell up!’ A voice growled out.

Jolting awake, Kagome drew back and with owlish eyes, stared at the silver statue shining in the growing daylight. Her forearm was raised defensively before her, just in case.

Just in case what? Kagome looked around as the haze of sleep left her, registering the fact that she had left her room last night and that she had fallen asleep in her grandfather’s garden. Come to think of it. She had completely missed dinner, and her stomach was twisting painfully because of it.

Wait, what was that? A voice had woken her up. She glanced back at the long haired silver statue, it’s grim face of a man looking past her.

That’s it, she was completely losing her mind. Either that or maybe she had formed it up in her sleep. That had to be it. She’d chalk it up to it being a voice from her forgotten dream because there was no way in the world she was thinking that voice had somehow come from the statue. Like if it was alive… or something.

“Kagome!”

She quickly turned to the sound of her grandpa’s voice, the dew from the grass wetting through her clothes. “Grandpa!”

He must have been worried. She didn’t show up for dinner and she wasn’t in her room. How would she explain this?

Her grandfather called out for her again. “I’m over here!” She waved her hand as she got up, wondering if he’d see her wherever he was. Kagome spared the statue one last glance, gray eyes gazing over it’s handsomely angry features before making her way back to the shiro. ‘Strange,’ she thought, as she passed through an open white fence that was almost swallowed whole by overgrowth, ‘I can see my room directly from here.’

She was halfway there when her grandfather finally found her. “Kagome!” He greeted weakly, hands clutching the front of his fluffy coat to stave off the morning chill. “I’ve been looking for you all night!”

“I’m sorry,” she said honestly, pulling him in for a big hug, her torso bowing over his short stature as he returned the gesture. “I didn’t mean to worry you.”

“You missed dinner,” he said as he pulled away, holding her face in his hands as his face wrinkled with worry. “Breakfast is ready. And you’re still wearing the same clothes! What were you doing?” He pulled away to study her appearance, horror crossing his features, “did you sleep out here all night?”

“Hah,” Kagome laughed nervously, bowing low and clapping her hands once in front of her, “I was perfectly fine,” she lied. “Let me just freshen up and we can eat.” She managed to peek at him through the curtain of her hair and noticed him give her a skeptical look, before he nodded and walked away.

“Be quick girl.”

When he finally left, Kagome turned to stare at the open shoji screens of her room. It was eerily dark inside, the far wall with the sliding doors leading to the rest of the household were virtually unseen. She really didn’t want to go in there. Those glowing red eyes, the gnashing yellow teeth… her heart quickened at the thought. A nervous sweat pricked her skin, and she squeezed her hands close and then opened them a couple times to steel herself. Despite the cool morning air, her face and neck flushed hotly.

She had to do this, her clothes were in there. With a deep breath, she rushed inside. Quickly, she turned on her desk lamp, located matches in the drawer and lit the lantern on her floor. With swift movements, she closed the shoji screens that led to the garden and changed. Then she hurried to the closest bathroom to freshen up and met her grandfather for breakfast. Luckily, the whole process was met without incident. With great relief, Kagome thanked whatever Gods were looking over her and dug into her meal.

“So,” he grandfather started, startling her out of her thoughts. “You slept outside?”

Kagome blushed from embarrassment at being caught. How could she explain what had happened to her without sounding completely crazy? That the minute she stepped into his shoji, a voice had been following her, plaguing her without mercy. He’d probably send her to get therapy, and quite honestly, maybe she needed it.

She sighed, “I couldn’t sleep.” Well that wasn’t exactly a lie, yeah, she could go with that.

Gramps seemed to understand, his face softening as he reached out for her resting hand, giving it a little supportive squeeze. “This old man has lived a long life my dear. You can speak your troubles here.”

Suddenly emotional, Kagome fought to blink back the sudden rush of tears. This was the worst week of her life, and the unwavering support moved her. She swallowed the sudden lump in her throat, her family's faces passing through her mind as she turned her hand to hold his in return. “Thanks Grandpa.” They exchanged sad, small smiles until Kagome could bare it no longer and took a long sip out of her orange juice.

She needed to change the subject before totally breaking down in front of him. She could only expose that sorrow in solitude, refusing to burden him - or anyone for that matter - more than she already was. “So,” she started as she swallowed her emotions bitterly, “those statues in the garden.”

“Ah yes,” he seemed to brighten immediately, “those statues are full of history!”

Kagome laughed at his enthusiasm, thinking about the long haired sculpture who’s sharp face she remembered in detail. She took a bite of her fish after dipping it in some sauce. “I’ve never seen that tall one before. Is it new?”

“Tall one?” Grandpa looked confused as he spoke behind a napkin. “Ah! You mean the dragon on the pillar near the east side!”

His granddaughter frowned. “No… the one near the koi pond after the fence. It’s got long hair,” she brushed her fingers through her own, grabbing the edges with her finger tips for emphasis. Then lifted said fingers and flicked her index nail, “claws,” Finally, she reached over her head and motioned with both hands, “and pointy ears.”

Grandpa choked on his food in the middle of her description. Kagome felt the blood rush out of her face as she watched him clear his throat and look at her, clearly bewildered. “Kagome… dear-”

She laughed, not knowing what else to do, “I must have dreamed it up!” She scratched the back of her head and smiled demurely. “So,” she scooped the last of her fish and rice, “tell me about that dragon one!”

He seemed to not notice the change in conversation, brightening again to finally have someone to talk to about the historic sculptures in the center garden. Kagome listened with a bright smile as she pondered why grandpa had no idea about the seemingly angry, handsome statue in the back, and about why she was being terrorized while he seemed to continue living blissfully in his shiro.

That second night passed without incident. The movers had arrived and she left her boxes in the hallway, refusing to enter her bedroom. Kagome avoided her room until it was inevitable. and finally subjected herself to sleep. She kept the shoji doors to the garden open, watching the slivers of moonlight shine on the otherworldly statue in the distance, bringing her a strange sort of comfort until she finally succumbed to her exhaustion.

It was the middle of her third night that something woke her from her nightmares - something of normal occurrence since her family had passed.

She had taken a new habit of sleeping with the screens open. The sight of the silver adonis brought her some much needed comfort, especially since it was the only night since her family’s passing that she slept without the plague of nightmares.

Sounds she could scarcely describe woke her. She sat up in her futon as she looked out into the night shaded garden. As if in a trance, she stood and walked onto the damp grass. Kagome followed the gruesome sounds; screeching, ripping, roaring, and cawing. Her body seemed to walk of its own accord, walking over garden bridges, streams, and ponds. Somehow she had opened more screens, walking through the shiro and to the edge of the property. She stared into the woods unblinking as she witnessed creatures she could never begin to describe course through the air in a horde, then descending to the ground somewhere in the dark where she could not see.

Before she could fully awaken, one noticed her and diverged from the group. It turned in a loud sickening crack, then headed straight for her. This seemed to waken Kagome from her daze as she stumbled back, a forearm raised in feeble defense. The creature had more eyes than Kagome could count, it’s sharp toothed jaw agape as it lunged for her.

A scream left her as she fell to the ground, just narrowly escaping what she assumed could have been the end of her life. The hoard disappeared, and a guttural screech roared behind her. She turned on her back as a grotesquely huge serpent lunged at her, claws like a hawk protruded from its slithering body and snatched her arm, digging in deep and pulling it away from her chest as it opened its jaw, fangs leaking with a smoking liquid, burning through her clothes as she raised her free hand and yelled. She didn’t know what happened. One moment her life had flashed before her eyes, utter terror, and then the brightest light blinded her. All sound and movement screeched to a maddening halt. And the world was no more.

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