#edited to add banner cause i cannot believe i didnt add the banner i worked SO HARD on

[josephslittledeputy]

WIP Wednesday!

Tagged by @detectivelokis @direwombat @inafieldofdaisies @clicheantagonist @socially-awkward-skeleton ty for keeping me in the loop lovelies!

Tagging @g0dspeeed @nonfunctioning-queer @marivenah @henbased

Posting a few things since I've missed a million wip wednesdays, so first up is the beginning of Willa's disastrous journey in part 1 of her dark au :)

“Ugh…” A groan forces itself through cracked, dry lips as she wakes to an insistent mumbling hum buzzing by her head. Her eyes flutter open and roam over her settings with an owlish blink. Numbly, she stares ahead, to the swaying headset that’s making so much noise, and finally to the vibrant orange ribbons, flapping in the wind outside. A few minutes tick by before her memory trickles in, syrupy slow, bringing with it an ice cold terror. Something was wrong. Something was very, very wrong. She was hanging upside down with her seat belt being the only thing holding her in place. It takes another minute to realize that the ribbons outside were not ribbons at all, but flames. To make matters worse, there's a tiny waterfall of liquid, dripping down from the helicopter and splattering onto the ground into a puddle. The smell itself is indistinguishable: Gas. She looks over to her right to see Hudson, passed out, then in front of her to see Burke, also passed out, and then there was… Wait, where the hell was Joseph? “Amaaaziiiiing Graaaace.” The distant, haunting timber of his voice paralyzes her. Ironically, she can’t help but to think that this would be the part in the movie where the main character ran and hid from the killer. But she has no where to run and no where to hide, so she does the next best thing: A fumbling attempt to grab the headset dangling just out of reach, taunting her. “How sweet the sound…” She leans forward, brushing her fingertips against the headset and pushing it further away. “C’mon!” She makes another attempt and this time her hand secures a tight grip around it. With a bud of hope blossoming in her chest, she pulls it toward her, just a little closer- Joseph’s hand shoots into view like a striking viper, latching onto her wrist with a punishing grasp and her breath hitches in her throat. She doesn’t dare to turn her head, in fact she’s not even sure she’s able to. She’s frozen in place, watching him move into her line of view. “That saved… a wretch… liiiike me…” He tilts his head, watching her. Unblinking. Waiting. It’s only when she releases her death grip on the only lifeline out of here that he, in turn, lets go of her wrist. It's a short lived relief, as in the next moment he grabs her jaw, lips twitching in amusement now that he’s made sure she’ll be unable to look away from him. “I told you that God wouldn’t let you take me.” He taunts, using his other hand to blindly reach up and grab the headset behind him, pulling it close so he could talk into the mic. “Dispatch.” “Ohhh… my god.” Nancy responds with a relieved, shaky exhale of breath. The reply prompts a brief half smile, one that doesn’t quite meet his eyes. “Everything is just fine here. No need to call anyone.” No. No, no, no. There was no fucking way- “Yes, Father. Praise be to you.” He drops the headset with a dramatic flourish then leans in with deadened expression, getting close enough that she could smell him this time: Dirt, sweat, ink, old books, and… something else she couldn’t quite put her finger on. He reaches up, slowly, as if approaching a cornered animal and she can’t help but to think, oh god, this is it. Bracing herself for the pain of long, pianist fingers penetrating squishy flesh, her eyes fly open in surprise when rough, callused thumbs brush across the apples of her cheeks instead. It’s a soft, soothing gesture, one she’s unfamiliar with. He wipes away stray tears that she hadn’t even realized were there and takes a moment to watch her. A second later, he’s leaning in, getting too close, forcing her to move her head back until it hits the headrest behind her. “No one is coming to save you.” He utters those final words before climbing out of the helicopter

Next up is Willa's (failed?) cleansing!

“Not this one.” He holds a hand out, stopping the peggie at her side and giving them a look before handing over the book he’d been reading from. His blue eyes—looking almost colorless in the moonlight��flick back to her and the water parts around him when he moves closer. “This ones not clean.” Then he lunges, pushing her down until she's submerged underneath the water again. She struggles, trying to gain purchase on anything, but the effort is futile and a few seconds later she’s already resurfacing. Her chest heaves with her gasps for air, her lips trembling from the cold temperature. “Y-you mm-muh-mother-f-fucker!” “Ahhhh!” He clicks his tongue with a smile, “Shhhh.” Expecting it this time, she holds her breath just before he pushes her under, the cold water shocking her system as if she were doing a polar plunge. She manages to grab hold of his shirt, pulling him with her and delighting in the blurry shock on his face when he stumbles and falls. He barely manages to catch himself and in using her to regain his balance, he sends her back slamming into the ground, driving the air from her lungs. Out of instinct, she opens her mouth and inhales water, gulping it down like she hasn’t had a drink in years. It gives her a bone chilling sense of dreadful déjà vu. Her frantic movements grow more sluggish the longer time passes until soon, she isn’t even struggling at all, but weakly smacking at whatever part of his body she could. But he doesn’t relent, he doesn’t let up, he keeps her there until her vision darkens at the edges. Then he keeps her there even longer, sharp fingers digging into her shoulders as he takes out his rage and frustration on her. She can’t do anything but exhale… and let go. . . . “N’aww, you really thought this was over? It’s only just begun…” . . . Someones pressing on her chest—one, two, three—then pushing air into her lungs. They repeat the motions again. One. Two. Three. Air forces its way into her lungs. She doesn’t respond. Again—one, two, three—more air. She responds this time, coughing and throwing up water that spills over her face. Sweet, sweet air fills her lungs and there’s a multitude of voices all mumbling by her ear. Her eyes lazily open, idly noting that her chest feels heavy, that it aches. Above her, with the moonlight behind him like a halo, she can only think that Joseph Seed looks just like an angel in that moment. Or maybe it’s the bliss—yeah, she’s sure it's the bliss. His lips were moving and the words don't register with her, but the relief was clear on his face. Raising a hand, he pushes wet strands of hair from her face and slowly, the words begin to fade in. “You’re not here by accident or by chance. You are here by the grace of God. You’ve been given a gift.” His lips pull up into a smile, not like the half ones that she’d seen earlier in the crash, but a real one. His hand smooths over her hair again, the motions setting her at ease, making her relax, disarming her. “Now it remains to be seen whether you choose to embrace it…” His voice lowers into a despairing whisper, ”Or to cast it aside.” Chirping crickets fill the silence while he continues to stare, memorizing her features.