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vxsellie · 30 days ago

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⋆ ˚｡⋆౨ৎ˚. GHOSTS OF SACRILEGE !

synopsis. fbi agent!ellie williams x nun!reader ; it's truly no shock that the entirety of west virginia is emerged by trepidation, considering hundreds of residents have gone missing within the past three months. as a form of consolation for those fearful, an esteemed fbi agent is sent to investigate. what she finds, however, is more than she could ever have expected.

notes. this piece is part of the mythologica challenge! i tried my absolute hardest to do the theme justice bc of how good it is. also pls note that every town mentioned is real & i did a decent amount of research on each one, but that doesn't at all mean that it's entirely accurate. i've been to some of the places, but not all also ! this is my first time ever writing detailed smut so i literally know none of the correct words to use or how to describe what's happening & it might turn out being literal dog shit,, if that's the case i apologize!

warnings. religious horror, an attempt at writing smut, angst, plot twists, horrible world building, major character death x2, possessive / obsessive romance, descriptive gore, blood, satanic rituals, human sacrifice, blood, oral (r! receiving), brief mentions of abuse & assault, murder as a metaphor, past animal death, long exposition i'm sorry, and - last but most important - the sweet release of desecrating salvation.

wc. 9.5k+

𝓝aught but unease filled the tiny town of bluefeild as yet another missing person is found to be reported in the newspaper. the sun begins to peer over the horizon, long shadows cast against the sidewalk that newsboys toss the papers from. they ride their bikes down the concrete with a fervor that should be rare. but it’s been rather common in bluefeild as of late. every since december. ever since the incidents first began.

nobody in town can be seen outside without a frantic expression and a fast pace. fear fuels their every step as they scurry outside to retrieve the news before burrowing back into the safety of their homes, hungry eyes skimming the article in search of who’s gone missing this time.

ellie hadn't expected much when traveling here. a small town of worrisome locals, a serial kidnapper hiding in plain sight. y'know, the usual for cases like these.

but something about this case stands out to her. there's a certain weight in her chest as each day passes without answers. in the beginning, she'd asked around town, hoping to find some common denominator among everyone's weariness. but there's nothing. the residents are closed off, thick boots and even thicker country drawls quick to kick the agent off their rotting porch at first glance. she's been here for a while now, not a single clue made evident. no loose ends, no muddy footprints, no witnesses. it's like these people just disappear into thin air.

ellie sits in her idled car, eyes scanning today's newspaper for slips of information. she can't help the way her interest piques, slowly going mad with lack of elucidation. she runs a hand through her hair, shoulders weighed with fatigue and dwindling hope.

see, over two-hundred people have gone missing in the past three months ⎯ which is a big deal in and of itself, but even more so considering bluefeild's population is well under five thousand.

her windows fog as rain patters gently against the steel of her vehicle, the whether cold and dreary in comparison to her car's heated temperature. she supposes it fits the mood, though, doesn't it?

after twenty minutes of analyzing each and every word given, ellie groans and stuffs the newspaper into her glove box, slamming it shut. evidently, the paper provided nothing of use to her. it has a picture of the man missing, his name inscribed under the image, and a few words of grief are quoted to have been said by the families. but that's it.

as of this morning, jason casey has been added to the long list of missing persons. and not a soul could say why nor how.

ellie pulls her phone from her coat pocket, clicking on her bosses contact before wedging it between her ear and shoulder. she listens to it ring as she puts her car into gear, pulling out of the parking space she'd been occupying. it's not like anyone here would dare to use their cars anyhow. most shops and businesses have been temporarily closed, owners fearing the possibility of suffering the same fate as those prior.

"ellie?" joel's voice comes through the tiny speakers, papers rustling in the background of the call as he speaks. "what're you callin' me for? i thought you were on the bluefeild case."

"there's nothin' to go off of." she tells him. one hand is rested on the wheel whilst the other holds her phone.

"you're our best investigator, williams, i'm sure you'll find somethin'." he says offhandedly, continuing to shuffle through whatever papers are of more interest to him than his alleged best employee.

she rolls her eyes at his dismissive tone. "hundreds are missing, joel. without a trace or a sign left behind. they're likely dead, if i were to guess. i don't— what the hell good does that do?"

"find the bodies." he says easily. "their corpses might point to their killer."

"no shit." ellie scoffs. "the issue isn't what to do next, it's how the fuck i'm supposed to do it. this has been goin' on for months and no bodies have turned up. where am i even supposed to look? like i said, there ain't a damn thing left behind."

she coasts down the streets of bluefeild, using this time to feel the layout of it and examine what she's working with. she's been here for a while now, but the town remains a mystery to her. and, from what she's seen, it's a bit of a mystery to everyone else as well.

she notices that many of the homes are old and shabby, paint flaking and wood rotting. in the yards, however, almost every resident has some form of a religious symbol. a cross, a statue of mary, a flag for something biblical. anything to show their faith.

to each their own, i guess. she thinks to herself with a shrug before turning her attention elsewhere.

the streets are empty, as expected. a few street lights are on, the yellow illumination flicking with worn age. even on the two-lane roads, there's not a car in sight. she narrows her eyes at this, a shiver tracing up her spine at the disturbing vastness.

"well," joel says, "search the papers some more."

"i've done that a thousand fuckin' times." ellie groans, eyes still scanning her surroundings with intent of committing it all to memory. just in case. "there's nothin' there. it's just all information on the missing people, half-assed sympathy for the victim's family, and a picture of 'em."

joel sighs, the sound of tapping resonating through the phone. ellie recognizes the sound, having worked for joel long enough to know that he always taps a pencil against his desk when he's thinking. it's a good sign, she thinks. it means he's at least giving her predicament some thought.

she's been in bluefeild for eight days now, spending her time interrogating random residents for informations; spending her nights rereading the stupid fucking newspapers. naught good has been of ramification.

the repetition of it all is driving her insane, especially considering none of her efforts have yet to pay off in any sort of way. she'd hoped that when the next person showed up missing, something would present itself. a clue would rear its ugly head at her and she'd grab it by the throat with fervor. but no. jason casey went missing and all heads remain hidden. so, after an hour of battling with her pride, she decided to make the call to joel and admit her being stuck.

"okay." he says, shuffling a bit as he finally gives ellie his full attention. "okay, pull over for a second, i'm gonna need you to do somethin' for me."

she instantly obliges, pulling off to the nearest backroad. gravel crunches under her tires as she drives along the thin path wedged between two decrepit buildings. the alley is small and a bit sketchy, but that's exactly what she needs. ellie puts her car in park, windows translucent in their heavily fogged blanket.

"how many newspapers do you have on you?" joel asks when he hears her car go into idle.

"um," she reaches over and opens her glove box, watching as yellowed papers fall from the newly opened door. they flutter to the floor and atop the passenger's seat. she hums, amused at the sight of her obsession making a tangible image in her head. "a lot."

"okay, good. perfect." joel mutters, the clacking of a keyboard sounding through the tiny speaker. "the first person who went missing was carl andrews. he was thirty-seven. his wife claims he was supposed to have been walking home from work but never showed up for dinner."

ellie scrambles through her messy stack of newspapers, searching for carl's report. she finally finds it, the paper dated to have been written near the beginning of december. she straightens out the wrinkles, examining his picture.

"looks like your average middle age man." ellie mutters, taking in his scruffy beard and wrinkled skin. "he was a carpenter. had two kids, both boys."

"yes, i have the paper pulled up on my computer." joel says. "but it doesn't show his address or nothin'. this shitty website only has half of the damn document."

ellie skims through the words, searching for the street or neighborhood he'd lived in. when she turns up empty-handed she groans, now well familiar with the feeling of disappointment regarding this case. "nope. no home address." she says with an evidently annoyed tone.

"what about his workplace?" joel asks. "if he'd been walkin' home, his work must be close enough for him to do so."

"oh shit," she mutters. she'd studied his article for hours — studied all of them — and she hadn't even thought to look there. her hands clutch the paper as she searches with a hungered gaze. her eyes widen at the address listed on the paper. "yes it's on fifth street."

more typing is heard through the phone, "says here that,, there's a neighborhood right by there. a few blocks down from the carpenters' building. must've been where he lived."

"perfect." ellie grins, adrenaline rushing through her.

oh, she feels on top of the world right now.

"okay, now i want you to look for addresses in all the other papers." joel says, flipping a switch in his tone — off to being ellie's friend and on to being her boss. a familiar change, but an unpleasant one nonetheless. "check 'n see if there's a link between where they'd been last spotted."

"okay."

ellie sets carl's paper aside and grabs another random one. she reads the heading briefly, recognizing it to be the article on bryan turner who'd gone missing in the middle of january. he'd allegedly been walking his dog and never returned to his apartment, according to his elderly female neighbor.

the address is actually listed this time. not his exact apartment number, but the building. ellie can't help the smile that tugs at her mouth again as she grabs a random notepad and scribbles both addresses onto the paper, reminding herself to compare their proximity when she gets back to her hotel later tonight.

"you're a goddan genius, joel." ellie mutters as she sets bryan's paper atop carl's and grabs another. sam cortez. late december.

"thanks, kid." joel chuckles into the phone. ellie has it set aside, call set to speaker as she flips through papers and continues to write down addresses into her notes. her movements are frantic and hurried, adrenaline refusing to wind down from its newly heightened state. joel speaks again, regaining her attention. "uh, sorry t' tell you this but i've gotta go. it's almost midnight and i've been at the building since ten o'clock this mornin'."

"yeah yeah, whatever." ellie replies off-handedly. "thanks for your help, old man. i think i can take it from here now, though. go get your beauty rest."

"promise to call me in the mornin'?" he asks. "i wanna hear what y' find."

"yes, i promise." she laughs. "i'll call you as soon as i wake up."

"okay good. don't overwork yourself either, you need to⎯"

"goodbye, joel!" she says, grabbing her phone and hanging up on him before she has to listen to him reprimand her for lack of rest. he's one to talk, too, seeing as he'd just admitted to having been at the building all damn day.

she sighs, deciding to put a pin in her address search and get back to her hotel to finish working in the comfort of a bed.

she sets her papers into two neat piles in the passenger's seat ⎯ one for those she'd already gone through and one for those she hasn't yet gotten to. then, she puts her key into the ignition and pulls out of the little road.

as she drives down the street, she examines her surroundings once again. still as impoverished as before.

she passes a small farm house, eyes drawn to the old lady sitting on the porch. she's rocking back and forth rather ominously, making direct eye contact with ellie through the windshield. slowly, the woman nods her head toward where a large cross is staked into the soil of her front yard. ellie looks away, a sudden uneasiness washing over her as she presses harder on the gas.

she reaches her hotel a few minutes later, stuffing her papers under each arm before entering the building and heading toward the elevator. by the time she reaches her room, she practically rips her heavy leather jacket off, the yellow 'fbi' label bright and bold against the black material as she tosses it onto her bed. she sits cross-legged in the center of her room, laying out all the newspapers in front of her.

she continues to sort through them all, eyebrows furrowing as she comes to realize that all the victims are men.

she hurriedly flips through the documents, certain she must he wrong. but she's not. they're all male. ellie writes this down on her notepad, handwriting rushed and nigh unintelligible. despite the sloppiness, she circles it, sure it'll prove to be of importance later on.

by the time ellie finishes going through what feels like hundreds of papers, she decides that's enough for her to be able to find a pattern if there is one. the digital clock atop the nightstand reads 2am, flashing bright red numbers at her. she ignores it, too high off the thrill of finally finding something in this priorly monotonous case.

she pulls her laptop from her bag and flips it open atop her crossed legs, quick to pull up a map and type in the coordinates of each address. they appear random at first, completely fucking unrelated to one another. a pang of dread hits ellie in the chest, worried this will have all been for naught.

but then she zooms out.

each dot for each address glows blue. when zoomed out, it forms something. ellie squints, tilting her head at the incoherent image she struggles to make out. seeing as many of the papers weren't analyzed, the picture is only half-complete.

but then it clicks. a pentacle. and at the very center of the shape, a church.

ellie's mind goes back to the old woman on the porch. the way she'd nodded to her cross. the way almost every family in bluefeild is outwardly religious. she can't believe she hadn't seen it sooner.

this isn't just some case where she can stare at newspapers and hope something pops up. it's an intricately weaved web of murders.

her chest heaves as her eyes dart across the screen, unable to believe it. she finds herself tapping her men against the floor, drumming it just as joel does. she curses herself, tossing the pen across the room as her mind reels. it lands in front of the door, ballpoint pointed toward the exit. ellie takes this as a sign from the universe. despite not having ever been a religious person, she can't help the pang of hope in her chest.

deciding to indulge the pen's sign, ellie writes the church's address into her notepad, shuts her laptop, pulls her jacket back on, then heads for the door. she steps over the pen on her way out.

𝓢he stares up at the church, checking to make sure she's absolutely certain she's in the right place. when she's proven to be correct, she stuffs her notepad into her pocket and walks toward the building.

ellie doubts anybody is inside due to the time, but she wants to search the place regardless.

the church is old, creaky wooden exterior painted in uneven shades of white. the roof is brown and dilapidated with wear. atop it, a large cross is seen standing tall, its tip pointed up at the starry sky. ellie wades through the overgrown grass, her breath coming out in white clouds. it's fucking freezing out here.

when she reaches the building, ellie cups her hands around her eyes before peeking through the windows. the glass is dusty and cracked in some places. she can't seem to see through it, transparency made opaque from lack of maintenance.

she leans back and wipes a hand across the dust, forming a wide arc to peer through. inside, the church looks brand new. wooden pews line the space, a long aisle between each formed column. the floor is white tile, cleaned to be spotless. she tilts her head, struggling to look toward the pulpit. it appears to be⎯

"what're you doing?"

ellie jumps, her head slamming against the top of the window frame. she ignores the ache and whips around to face the owner of the voice. a nun.

you stand behind her with a raised brow, your entire body covered by black and white robes. ellie blinks, something about you making her stomach lurch. she's instantly put on edge, shameless in the way she examines your features.

your brow is knit in distaste for the trespassing girl. your eyes are sharp and steady as you pin your gaze onto hers. your hands are clasped behind your back, formal and almost robotic. or at least, that's how ellie sees you.

ellie reaches under her jacket and pulls out her badge. "fbi."

"there's no fbi in bluefeild." you point out, voice steady and melodic. ellie's lips part at the sound but she shows no other form of sway. you eye her badge, ellie williams. noted to be a top agent in her line of work. your eyes narrow. "where exactly are you from?"

"richmond." she responds, eyes never leaving yours as she places her badge back into the interior pocket in her leather jacket.

you tilt your head, inquiring. "virginia?"

"yes." she confirms.

you hum, noting the four hour drive she's sure to have taken in order to get here. you looks out across the grass, seeing her car still running as it's parked on the side of the road, yellow headlights acting as a beacon against the dark night.

"it's late, miss williams." you tell her, turning back to her to find that ellie's eyes have yet to leave your face.

she analyzes each expression you make, contorting every detail to memory ⎯ from the way your eyes flick across her features to the way your shoulders shift slightly after having been standing in one position for so long. she memorizes you, allowing your very being to sink into her mind. for the case, of course. you're a suspect, after all. she needs to learn you and feel you out in order to get a proper read on whether you're innocent in all this. that's why she stares at you. that's why her pupils are blown and her lips are parted again. totally.

"do you want to come inside?" you offer, raising a brow at her strange, yet obvious sense of interest in you. "it's freezing out here and i happen to have just brewed some tea."

her eyes dart to the shabby church behind her. judging by the exterior of the building, imagining the place having ac and working electricity is shocking. but judging by what she'd seen of the inside, she's tempted to take you up on your offer. for the case.

"only if y' agree to answer some questions of mine." she says, deciding to set the terms and conditions early on.

your eyes narrow, "what type of questions?"

"the type i need in order to solve the case i'm workin' on." she replies, reminding herself of the large amount of missing men and boys who've disappeared in these past three months.

"mm," you hum.

you look her up and down, taking in the sight of her. it's rare to see any form of law enforcement out here. you'd lived in bluefeild all your life and never seen a cop or fbi agent outside of the television. her leather coat hangs heavy from her set shoulders. her chin is held high despite the way goosebumps trail across her skin due to the chill of the air. she's wearing baggy black pants and heavy combat boots. interesting.

"sure." you shrug. "i've nothing to hide."

"we'll see 'bout that."

her eyes rake over to where he car remains running. she leaves it, using it as a sign to you that she plans to make this quick. you understand the gesture and heed it with care, nodding as you shift around her and walk toward the entrance of the church. the large wooden doors are already unlocked as you push them open.

ellie draws her eyes across the foyer, noting the long hallway. to the left is a doorway leading to the sanctuary and chancel that she'd seen through the windows. to the right is a large door with a shiny golden handle, locked. the hall is lined with more doors, some locked whilst others are free to peer into.

you move about the space as though you'd lived here all your life. ellie supposes that might be true, actually.

you sweep down the hall before turning one of the corners down a branched passageway. ellie follows behind you, the hall illuminated by only a dim yellow light. on either side of the hall, more and more doors branch out to the side. ellie pays no mind to the building's layout anymore. instead, she finds herself more interesting in watching your habit billow behind you, your shoes clicking with each step against the tile.

eventually, you're both now in a kitchen area. ellie hasn't a clue when you'd gotten here, far too distracted by you to care much for the journey you'd taken her on.

the floor is tiled to mirror the sanctuary, counters made of marble. you flick a switch and the lights flutter on, a low hum sounding from the ceiling as the kitchen is illuminated by a yellow glow. on the counter, two cups of tea sit premade. you grab them, one in each hand.

with an amused expression, you pass one to ellie. she takes it, eyes the glass in her hand for a long moment. in the end, she decides against trusting it.

"uh," she clears her throat as she places the mug on the counter behind her, turning to you with an uneasy weariness. "you knew you'd have a guest?"

"hm?" you hum, tilting your head at her with an innocent curiosity.

"y' made two glasses." ellie points out. you continue to look at her, feigning confusion that urges her to continue her explanation. "it's just— well, i haven't seen anyone else here besides you."

"i hadn't priorly known of your arrival, if that's what you're suggesting." you inform her before taking a long sip from your mug, peering at her over the rim with an alluring twinkle to your eye. you lower it, keeping the glass poised between your hands as you lick your lips and continue. "i simply knew i wouldn't be drinking alone."

"what's that supposed to mean?" ellie inquires, those fbi instincts of hers lacing through her tone. her eyes glint with piqued interest, watching you with a steady sharpness. it weighs on your chest, heavy but enthralling.

"what i mean is," you place your mug on the counter with a light clink. "in this church, you're never alone. not really."

she raises a brow, back straightening. "someone else is here?"

"something." you correct, a smirk tugging at your lips. "a deity, spirit, ghost, demon. take your pick, miss williams. it hasn't a title just yet."

ellie has surely formed her doubts about whether or not you're mentally insane. she can't help but indulges you nonetheless. if she intends on puzzling out the mystery of the missing people, she can't outwardly state that you're crazy. so instead, she says, "are these,, things good? or are they evil?"

"mm," you shift, taking another long sip of tea. you ponder on her question while drinking, your mind deciding on exactly how much you wish to tell this governmental investigator. once your mind is made up, you place you mug back down and flash her an amused smile. "its morality varies. as i said, it doesn't much like the feel of being confined by the barbed wire of titles. plus, there's more than one. and none are a repeat of the other, each separated by individuality."

ellie bites back a scoff, trying her hardest not to just grab you by the shoulders and shake you senseless. she wants direct answers, not riddles. she hasn't the time to figure out what you're trying to get at.

"how many?" she asks. "like. are there lots of them or are they few and far between?"

your brow knits as you take a step closer. at your growing proximity, her breath hitches. you are more than just a nun, you're the embodiment of her obsession. all the care and time she'd poured into this case; you personify it.

you're a religious figure in and of yourself. something worthy of worship and praise. if you were to seen by the world as ellie sees you, historians would be studying you for eons to come. paintings and playwrights would be made in your honor, temples and statues forged in hopes that you'd bat the sculptor even a moment of your attention.

but, alas, that's not how the world works. instead, you're made to be a random nun who lives holed away in a ragged church in the middle of nowhere. perhaps the universe had been wise to hide you from the world, for fear of what your divinity would cause. a repeat of troy, no doubt. wars fought for your hand. lives lost for the pulpy beating heart caged behind your ribs.

"as many as i'd like." you tell her, face now mere inches away from her own.

your body is covered entirely by your habit, black fabrics hanging from your shoulders and arms as to keep your entire being shielded from sight. your hair is cast back and under your veil.

despite the coverage, ellie's enamor is unmoved. it's not your body or your hair that she's drawn to. it's the slope of your nose, the plush of your lips, the curve of your cheek, the arc of your brow, the color of your eyes. it's everything that makes you stand out like a brightly shining star in comparison to the dull darkness that is this church.

and stars like you ought to be admired.

"as many as—" she squeezes her eyes shut, knowing her only chance at regaining control of her head is to not face you. her mind is muddled by thoughts of you. she can't think straight. when she reopens her eyes, she could've sworn you've moved closer. "what're you sayin'? i don't—"

"don't understand?" you finish for her, tone pitched in regalement. your head tilts to the side, your noses brushing. "few people do."

"just tell me what y' mean." she utters, voice a whispered breath across your face in the form of a plea. "tell me without the riddles. tell me without trying to evade the truth. tell me with honesty. if you're straight forward with me, i'm sure i'll understand."

you sigh through your nose, leaning away from her. she follows you like a fish on a hook. you take a step back and she takes one forward. noticing, you hold a hand up to halt her movements and she instantly ceases, blinking at you with parted lips.

your head is downcast, palm against her chest. "you'd hate me."

"hate you?" she questions.

despite only just having met you, ellie is quite certain she'd never come to hate you. your very being is as much a wonder to her as life itself. you're a celestial beauty she cannot bear to tear her eyes from. hate is foreign when you're the context in which it's spoken.

"yes." you confirm, expression contorting into one of feigned guilt. and, had ellie not been in such blind awe of you, she'd have likely seen through your facade of deception. "i've made mistakes; plenty. i could never expect you to hear me speak of them and look past their malice."

"but i would." she whispers, taking a step nearer. she places a hand on your wrist, lowering your palm that had priorly been raised between the two of you. she looks down at where she touches you, albeit through the cloth of your gown. "i'd look past it. i'd see you as i do now regardless of what you'd done."

you shake your head, "you cannot mean that."

"i do." she brings your hand to her mouth, pressing her lips against the hills of your knuckles. she looks up at you through her lashes, her mouth remaining close to your skin as she whispers, "i do mean it."

you feel guilt settle deep within your chest, burrowing between your ribs and in the very tissue of your heart. an immoral darkness encompasses the organ ellie so desperately desires to obtain.

you'd lured people into your entrapment many times before. but something about ellie makes you feel bad for doing what you know you need to.

but it's too late now.

she's your last victim. the final sacrifice needed in order to finish what you'd started back in december. after taking her life, all will be well. all will be well. all will be well. well, well, well, well. you repeat this over and over in your mind as ellie kneels before you. she looks up at you as though you're an alter made for this. for worship.

your breath catches in your throat as you watch her sink to the tiled flooring, hands brought up to rest at your hips. her fingers fist the fabric of your habit as she speaks once more, "allow me to prove how much i mean it?"

your head is swimming, unsure on what to do. logically, you know you should stop this before it gets too far. you've already lured her in close enough to do what's needed. but, for some reason, there's a thick knot forming in your chest. as it grows, you come to realize it's not a knot at all. it's a fist. it's ellie's fist.

her eyes bore into your own, her hands remain gripping your hips. somehow, though, you feel as though they're managing to trace their way through you. they line your bones and caress your tendons before inevitably finding their way to your heart. she holds it in the palm of her figurative hands as her physical ones begin to hike up your habit, slowly pulling the cloak up from the floor.

still, despite the discernible desire in her eyes, she does nothing but wait for your response of consent.

it's inexorable, the way you give in. the slight nod of your head had been predestined from the moment you spotted her at that window; and it will continue to prove relevant until your respective faits are sealed.

to ellie, it felt as though you'd taken hours to reply despite it only having been a minute or less. but the moment you nod, she's moving eagerly. she's grabbing your hips and hoisting you up onto the counter whilst simultaneously struggling to pull up the skirts of your clothes. she's trying to do so many things at once that it's dizzying. for both parties.

you aid her, shifting atop the marble as you pull the habit up to reveal what lies beneath it.

ellie feels the world fall from beneath her knelt locale as she stares. a pair of black lace panties adorn you, the upper half of your body remaining covered by the bunched cloth of your habit. the time she takes to memorize you feels agonizing as you sit there, itching to feel her body on yours.

once she's confident that the image has been successfully engraved into her mind, she leans forward. your legs are already parted when her mouth makes contact with your clothed vulva. the wetness that soaks the material soon made into a mixture of your arousal and ellie's opened mouth.

her tongue traces light circles into your clit, a soft sigh escaping your lips as your grip on your habit begins to loosen. you toss your head back in pleasure, the sound of ellie's slurping and licking mixing with the mechanical hum of the lights.

"ohmygod," she says against you, the vibrations of her voice making your breath pick up its pace. "you're so fucking perfect."

one of your hands comes down to tangle in the auburn of her hair, tufts weaving between your shaky fingers. you tug on it, pulling a grunt form the back of ellie's throat as her scalp stings. despite her noise of pain, this only manages to make ellie more vehement in her actions.

she grabs the hem of your panties with her teeth, yanking them to the side. her eyes are shut as she licks a long strip through your wet muscle. you can’t help the way you stare down at her, watching as she puts her absolute all into making you feel good. and, as it turns out, she’s quite skilled at doing so.

ellie's mind is fogged over, mimicking the way her car's windows had been earlier. she supposes there’s no true difference there, however. the interior of her car had been warm in comparison to the cool outside air. swap the temperatures and there’s naught that varies. the warmth that you provide makes ellie feel cold in contrast, which ends in a fogged mind.

the taste of you is enough to make her lose whatever sanity remains intact. all that adrenaline that had flowed through her earlier is being poured into you.

after all, stars should be worshipped right? they should be admired from below, gawked up at. they should be mapped and studied by only the wisest of mankind. they should be doted on with a possessive sense of adoration, one only fit for something so celestial and untouchable as a star.

and that's what you are. to ellie, at least. you're a brightly shining nebula — a feathery cloud of vibrancy, visible only in the darkest of nights. only in the coldest of weathers. only in most decrepit of churches. only here, only now.

only when fate is carved in this exact way. had one thing been altered, none of this would have taken place. it was providence that brought you together. you weren't written in the stars or tethered your entire lives. in fact, the chance of your paths crossing was rather low. but, honestly, that only makes your acquaintance more deeply rooted in kismet. makes it more special.

"fuck," you pant, chest heaving as you squeeze your eyes shut. your head thuds against the cabinet as you tighten your grip on ellie's hair. she groans, fingers pressing deeply into the skin of your hips, hard enough to leave a bruise. your thighs tighten around her head, a coil of heat sitting heavily in the pit of your stomach. "ellie, i'm—"

she tilts her head up slightly, nose pressing into the bead of your clit. she watches through lidded eyes as you come undone onto her face.

she savors it, committing every little detail to memory. a habit this has become, watching you. your brows knit, your legs shake slightly, you breath hitches. and ellie retains all to it.

she made you see stars. made you look into a mirror and see yourself.

that feeling of blissful release is what she feels every time she's fortunate enough to gaze upon you. and now you've experienced it. and she cannot feel more accomplished than she does right now.

"this," you pant, tugging on her hair to bring her face up to your own. she does as you direct her, standing from the floor to press your foreheads together. "was a terrible idea."

"yeah?" she breathes out. "and why's that?"

you run your hands up and down her back, fingertips tracing the stitching of her leather jacket. you can feel the outlined letters of her 'fbi' label. that familiar twinge of guilt encircles you.

she's a good person — a woman who's to spend the rest of her life helping random people she doesn't know. and yet, here she is. made unfortunate enough to have succeeded in her endeavor.

she stares at you like you're a god, something heavenly. something seraphic. something worthy of her.

"i'm not a good person." you whisper, leaning away from her proximity. predictably, she follows, leaning closer with a desperation only fit for one in love.

the guilt of what you must do is eating you alive. it claws at your chest, snapping your ribs like twigs as it wedges between them to burrow deep within you. it's agonizing yet completely unavoidable.

and in a sickeningly poetic outturn, a random butcher knife is sat neatly atop the marble counter only a foot away from where you sit. just as ellie meets your eyes, the blade happens to catch the light and reflect yellow luminescence. a grotesque reminder of what you're unable to run from.

"nobody is innately good. and, as a nun, y' should know that better than anyone." ellie huffs out a laugh, eyes not daring to stray from you. "in other words, i don't care."

"but you should." you insist, voice teetering on the edge of plea.

"and yet, i don't." ellie counters, just as passionate in her solemnity. you suck in a breath, eyes glossing over. she looks at you with a fondness that feels foreign. she cups your cheeks between her palms, repeating, "i don't."

"i've done horrible things." you say.

"you're a nun." she points out with a light chuckle rumbling her chest. "how horrible could these things have been?"

part of you wants to open up to her, tell her everything that's been weighing on you for these past three months. but each time you get close to a confession, something inanimately symbolic taunts you. whether that be the butcher knife, the hum of electricity, the gun holster at her hip, the residual lust in your chest, or the bright yellow lettering on her jacket.

that gun is meant for you just as that butcher knife is meant for ellie. she'd been wise to bring a weapon, a clear sign that she'd intended on finding someone culpable enough to suspect. and you'd been wise to set the blade atop the counter on the off chance that you'd meet your final victim tonight.

you feel sick to your stomach.

"oh shit," ellie curses as she takes notice to the way you're visibly crumbling in front of her. "i— uh, i didn't mean to be, like, insensitive or anythin'. i'll still listen to you. and i promise to not hate you. promise to never hate you."

"ellie, stop." you sigh. "you can't promise something like that. you don't even know what i—"

"then tell me." she insists, your face still in her cupped hands. you look at her through blurred vision, naught but sincerity behind her pale green irises. "if y' tell me what it is that y' did, we can both carry the burden."

you're instantly shaking your head.

"you don't have to do this alone." ellie says. "plus, isn't a weight split a lighter load than one full?"

as you stare into her eyes, you can't stop yourself from what comes next. you're unable to keep your mouth shut when she's looking at you like that. you decide to tell her, opening your ribs and bearing your heart as though she hadn't already taken it from you. you truly feel more bare in this moment than you did when she'd literally been eating you out.

ellie put her entire trust into you when letting down her guard and abandoning the case she'd obsessed over for weeks. she dropped it like it were nothing, focusing entirely on you in its stead. the least you could do is be honest, right? plus, she's not leaving here anyway. you'd locked the door the moment you two entered the kitchen when she'd been too distracted by your beauty to notice. the trap is already set and she's sitting inside of it without a care. all you need to do now is pull the strings.

but first comes honesty.

for ellie, you'd peel off your clothes. you'd peel off your skin. you'd peel off your flesh. then, when you're naught but bones, you'd give yourself to her. you'd give your entire being to her. not because you think you're worthy of her possession, but because this is all you have. the only thing you're able to offer her as a symbol of your devotion, it's yourself.

though, while you're unable to strip yourself clean off your bones, you feel as though rendering yourself vulnerable and fragile is the next best thing you can offer. for her, you are willing to do the priorly unthinkable.

"you're here in search of the missing men, are you not?" you ask, beginning with baby steps. "in search of who's behind their absences?"

ellie straightens, "i am."

"well." you gesture down at yourself. at your crooked veil that shows stray hairs peeking from underneath; at your hiked up habit, just barely falling to cover your underwear; at your knees that rest on either side of ellie's waist; at your vulnerable state that you're offering up to her. at your bones. "you've found me."

ellie's heart stutters in her chest. not because of what you'd revealed to her, but because you trusted her enough to do so. she no longer cares an ounce for the missing people of bluefeild. all she wants is you. she may be a fool to be this way, but she's in far too deep to mind.

she gives you a weak smile, "i don't care."

"what?" you croak. you stare at her incredulously. there's no way she doesn't care. there's no fucking way. "yes you do."

"i don't."

you blink, looking her up and down. there must be something you're missing — her reaching for her gun, her taking a step backward, her eyes darting toward the knife. but she does none of that. she simply remains stood between your legs, keeps her hands on you, and stares directly into your eyes as you confess your gravest of sins.

"but—" you shake your head, stammering. "but i killed all those people. they're dead. all of them. over two hundred men are buried behind the church."

"i don't care." she repeats, noticing the way your voice raises with trepidation. she traces her hands down your arms, stopping only when they reach your own. she tangles your fingers together, feeling the way your body relaxes slightly to the feel of her touch.

"i killed them because i was paid to." you tell her, your mind reeling as you're unable to grasp her lack of care. you talk in a frantic quickness, rushing to get the truth out for fear that ellie will change her mind in the time it takes for you to speak. "their wives, neighbors, daughters. they— they'd come to me in the confession booths and tell me of the men's abuse o-or assault or misdeeds. and i'd kill them for them. i don't—"

ellie's face remains soft. "you did a good thing, then."

"you can't be serious." you huff, eyes watering with the sheer confusion building within you. "i don't understand how you can still look at me like that. i took their lives. these people, i— they had dreams, they had aspirations and goals and families and—"

"listen," ellie whispers, her hands squeezing yours. "they were horrible people that hurt women. they were abusers and rapists and i don't care what y' did to them or how. all i care about is whether or not y' feel better."

"what?" you ask, voice nigh a breath. "what do you mean feel better?"

"to have gotten that off your chest." she digresses.

you take a deep breath, grounding yourself. the adrenaline of the confession slowly dwindles and you're no longer spiraling. you stare at ellie, centering on her face as the world comes back into focus.

you count your senses one by one. the smell of tea, the sound of humming lights, the feel of a hard counter beneath you, the taste of a bitter truth, the sight of ellie's fond expression. your breathing levels out, slowly but surely. and ellie stares at you the entire time. memorizing you.

"yeah." you whisper. "yeah, i do."

"then that's all that matters."

a supernova; to watch a star combust and explode, a colossally significant occurrence that only the most fortunate are able to witness. ellie considers herself to be substantially fortunate. not only because of what she'd just seen, but because of who it was that did it.

to her, this is even better than a natural supernova. rather than watching a random gassy ball of light die, its you. someone she adores and treasures. and you didn't die. instead, you opens yourself willingly to her. you broke down your walls and bore yourself to her. for ellie, that is far more important than some star's death.

"but—" you say, bringing her attention back to your face. your brows are knitted, clearly struggling to get the words out. she watches you with an easy patience, pupils blown as she submits this to her memory alongside all other files in her brain saved under your name. "but there's more."

"let's hear it." she replies, raising a brow.

you suck in a deep breath, lowering your head as to not face ellie before speaking. "i didn't just start killing whatever men that these women were asking of me. it started smaller. i killed animals, put them in a circle of salt, drew and pentagram, the whole ordeal."

"you sacrificed them?" she asks, tone remaining laced with gentility.

"yes." you nod. "i felt my baptism wasn't enough. god never answered me anyway, he never aided me when i needed it most. he watched my suffering and did nothing. so, i resorted to a new deity of worship." you lift your gaze to meet ellie's. "satanism."

"i'm sorry, i don't—" she blinks a few times, confused. "i don't understand."

"as a child, i relied on god to do everything. my life was nothing without him in it to keep me going. but as i grew, i realized it was unrequited. he cared nothing for me, watching with regale as i sobbed and begged for his help." you explain. "so, as a teenager, i switched over to satanism — worship of someone who actually cared enough to save me."

ellie says nothing, staying silent as you confide in her. she continues to hold your hands, softly cradling them on either side of where you sit.

"but then he wished for payment." you continue. "sacrificial lives as a form of repent for all those years i'd spent as a baptist. i obliged, of course. i killed bunnies and deer, doing research to understand how exactly to offer the stolen lives to him. but as of late, he's wanted more."

"humans." ellie guesses.

"yeah." you confirm. "but i couldn't bring myself to kill random innocent people. so i became a nun and listened in on the confession booths. then, i'd ask the confessors if they wished for me to intervene. they'd concur, paying me to take the lives of their abusers." you recall the fear in the women's voices, the shakiness to their hands as they slipped money through the cracks of the door. "they never saw my face, only heard my voice. and, seeing as i live in the church, none of the recognized me. i soon became a symbol of hope for women and one of fear for men."

ellie's mind strays back to all the religious symbols staked in the yards. "that explains their heavy faith. they think you're some type of prophet."

"yeah, but there's more." you say. "i've researched many, many books to make sure i get this ritual right. and, as it turns out, my 250th victim has to be a martyr. someone who doesn't believe in anything. doing this seals the ritual, ending it."

"good luck finding someone here who meets that criteria." she chuckles.

"exactly." you say carefully. "everyone in bluefield is heavily religious. unless that someone has come from out of town."

"me."

"i wish it wasn't." you rush to explain. "i wish there was some other way i could do this. but it has to be today. i need to do it before another woman comes in asking for my help or the numbers will get thrown off. and if i decline her, i'll lose the faith of all the women in bluefeild."

"okay," ellie shrugs. "do it."

"...what?"

"i don't care." ellie says, the sentence becoming something of a catchphrase for her.

the world stops. again. it screeches to a halt and you almost slam forward at the speed of which it crashed down. you stare at ellie with wide eyes, made shocked by her for a second time. someone so hauntingly perfect cannot truly offer herself up to you like this. she can't seriously be holding out her hand, asking for death to take it.

but what you don't know is that ellie would deem it a gift to die by your hand. it'd be better than dying as a withered elder attached to a beeping machine, or as an agent amid a case who only got to see you in her dreams.

but, this way, she'd be with you always. her love for you would be immortalized; she would be tied down to the very threads that make up the the fabrications of your soul. oh a gift that would be.

"do it." she repeats.

"what?, i don't—" she silences you by leaning forward, pressing her lips against yours.

ellie had kissed you out of impulse, knowing no other way to silence that thundering uncertainty that rumbles your brain. but the moment she does it, she's positive she'll never be able to pull away.

your lips are a cathedral of which she cannot help but melt into, your body a temple she's knelt before and wouldn't hesitate to do again. she kisses you with devout piety, her body molding into yours with each touch that lingers on your skin. somehow, this measly kiss is far more intimate than all else before it.

a silent tear slips from your closed eye as you subtly reach your hand over to where you know the butcher knife lies in wait. ellie surely feels your movement, there's no way she doesn't. but she makes no move to stop kissing you, her lips moving with a vehement neediness.

you loathe the way your fingers find the hilt of the knife. even more so, you despise the way you wrap your hand around it and bring it toward ellie.

she knows. she knows what you're about to do.

and she allows it.

love isn't easy for ellie, never had been. but with you, everything falls into place as though it'd been predestined to do so her entire life. as she feels your body shift toward the knife, nothing runs through her mind aside from your name. on repeat, the singular word replays over and over. she wraps your name around her skull, weaving the letters between her thoughts and molding the syllables against her brain. she was born to love you. and so long as she was able to do so, she'd be okay.

just as the tip of the blade brushes her jacket, you pull away from the kiss and stare at her. the knife remains at her back, resting against leather but not daring to press any harder. ellie's pupils are blown, her lips wet from your own saliva.

"i can't." you utter. "i can't do this to you."

she sighs, "i already told you it's fine, angel. just— as long as i have you near me, i'm content with my decision."

"no." you shake your head. "no i know. it's—" knowing ellie wouldn't understand your explanation, you decide to show her what you mean. with your free hand, you place your palm against her gun holster. "whatever you go through, i want to be there with you."

her eyes widen at your words. she jolts away from you, appearing as though she'd been burned. she sets her jaw, turning her hip away from your reach. "no."

"ellie, please." you implore, tone beseeching. "i can't live on knowing i'd done this to you."

"it's unavoidable." she reminds you. "y' made a deal with the fuckin' devil, or, well— i'm honestly not too sure on the details, but— y' can't not follow through. i understand, okay? finish the damn ritual and live your life."

"i don't want to." you plead with her. "not without you."

she shakes her head, eyes glossing over. despite the evident distaste, her refusal is weak. she stands only a foot away from you, seeming as though she's physically incapable of moving any farther.

"ellie," you say, whispering her name like a prayer. she can't help but look up at you through watery eyes. "ellie, please."

"i don't want you to die." she says, voice nigh a whimper.

"we'll be together, ellie," you tell her, hopping down from the counter to approach her. the blade remains in your hand, long forgotten to the both of you as the sight of the other is far more appealing. "if we do this, we can be together for all of eternity. they'll find our fossils in a million years, bones entwined. they won't even know who's who."

she chokes out a laugh that sounds more like a sob. "god, how stupid would that be?"

you laugh with her, "so stupid."

you're both crying now, tears streaming down your faces as you stare at one another. slowly, ellie pulls the gun from her holster. she's unsure on how this will go down, but she's willing to try. for you.

to be loved is a horrific thing, you've found. it's to be swallowed whole by something so disgustingly beautiful that you're incapable of turning away.

ellie takes a step closer, the distance between the two of you closing. her left hand holds the gun, her right hand coming up to wrap an arm behind your neck. she pulls your toward her, pressing another kiss to your mouth.

your tears mingle, forming a salty sea on your touching cheeks. you sob against her, chest heaving as you pull her closer with one hand, the other holding the knife. she tastes of sacrilege, salvation, and sacrifice. the ghosts that will haunt this decrepit church until the end of time. together.

whatever string that pulled the two of you toward each other will be knotted, tying two lost souls in search of the other.

"ellie," you whisper between wet kisses, lifting the knife to rest at the nape of her neck, "it's time."

she lets out a sob, a convulsive gasp tearing from her throat. "okay,"

you count down, the two of you agreeing to do it at the same time. you'll drive the blade into her neck whilst she pulls the trigger. your bodies will fall in unison, clinging to one another.

when you reach one, you sink the blade into her with a sickening squelsh. she chokes, dropping the pistol to the floor. it lands with a loud clank moments before her body falls with a thud. your eyes widen, heart ceasing. blood pools onto the white tiles and only one thought runs through your mind: she didn't pull the trigger.

she didn't pull the trigger.

she

didn't

pull

the

trigger.

she didn't pull the trigger. she didn't pull the trigger. she didn't pull the trigger. she didn't pull the trigger. she didn't pull the trigger. she didn't pull the trigger. she didn't pull the trigger. she didn't pull the trigger. she didn't pull the trigger. she didn't pull the trigger. she didn't pull the trigger. she didn't pull the trigger. she didn't pull the trigger. she didn't—

you fall to your knees beside her, hands coming to cradle her bloodied face. you pull her head into your lap, rocking back and forth as crimson soaks into the black fabric of your habit. you clutch her tightly against you, pressing hard on her slit neck, willing the blood to go back inside.

death doesn't take her hand. instead, he grabs her by the shoulders and shakes her for the untimely demise she'd agreed to. the heart she'd taken from you rattles. the death rattle. you choke out a sob at the sound, everything aching.

you lean forward, pressing a kiss to her cold, dead lips. she doesn't kiss you back. you pull away, panting hard as your chest heaves and your eyes burn.

then, in the corner of your eye, you see the metal of ellie's pistol. you crawl across the kitchen toward the weapon, realizing she hadn't even cocked it. god, how had you been so stupid? you do it for her, loading the bullets into the chamber.

with the gun now in your possession, you crawl back over to ellie.

you position yourself atop her, entwining your legs and placing your head on her chest. it doesn't rise nor fall, no beating heard from beneath her ribs. you sob, placing the gun's barrel to the soft part of your chin.

then, without another thought, you pull the trigger. you pull it because ellie was unable. because ellie couldn't bear to do it for you. a part of you resents her for this, but another part can't feel anything for her aside from utmost love.

and there lie two bodies. lifeless.

ellie found what she'd been searching for all her life: something worthy of her devotion. something she can pour her all into. that had been why she became an fbi agent in the first place — in search something to worship whole heartedly. simultaneously, you'd found what you'd been searching for as well: peace.

in the end, however, it had all been for naught.

the ritual didn't work.

it needed someone faithless, someone who didn't care for religion, for god. but that wasn't ellie. not anymore, at least. because, after having met you, she'd finally found something worth her revere.

you were her religion.

⊹ ࣪ ˖𐙚 perm. taglist. @luvsturniolo @ilovewomenfr @zzombiegirl @elliessweetheart @kasqnxx @xlovla

⊹ ࣪ ˖𐙚 additional note. i want this to be said here because i know this piece is super fucking heavy. ellie and the reader's relationship is so fucking toxic. anyone who reads this, i hope you realize how absolutely horrific their love story truly is. there's a shit ton of symbolism weaved within this story that i didn't outwardly state (though most of it i blatantly explained). if u have any questions regarding this piece, i'd love to talk about it bc i put a lot of time into making it.

but, again, their relationship is TOXICCCCCCCCCC!!!!!! it's not meant to be idolized or romanticized in any way. if you didn't notice, i barely used the word 'love' and never made either of them say 'i love you'. that was for a reason!!!! because what they share isn't love. it's unhealthy obsession & i need that to be outwardly said before i post this

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lover-of-mine · 5 months ago

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I know I wrote a whole essay on why Eddie fell first and how you can track down some level of awareness all the way back to the tsunami if you try and all that, but I'm having let's recontextualize season 3 and 4 thoughts so... Here's the thing, Eddie's relationship with Shannon was defined by Christopher (and hypothetical child #2), right? He proposed because she got pregnant, he wanted to propose again when he thought she was pregnant again, he brought her back into his life because Chris needed something from her even though they had been living in the same city for a while and he had never tried to contact her for himself, he uses bringing Shannon back into Chris' life as a statement about their marriage until Shannon pushed him into the corner again asking what they're doing. So the one relationship ever had at that point in his life was defined by Christopher. And the way we witness Eddie struggle to trust Shannon adds to things. They're married, she's Christopher's mother but he's not all the way in unless when he's pushed into the corner. So when you look at all that, and the choice Eddie makes of looking Buck in the eye and say "there's nobody in this world I trust with my son more than you" means a lot given the circumstances. Christopher almost died while on Buck's watch. No one in their right mind would blame Eddie for being cautious. But not trusting Buck doesn't occur to him. So he makes a very definitive statement about the space Buck has in his life using Christopher. I hate making the explicit comparison because a lot of the way Eddie doesn't trust Shannon comes from the fact she didn't choose to come back while Buck keeps barreling his way in, but he tells a Shannon begging for forgiveness that he's not sure he can trust her and then he turns around and pushes his way in to make sure Buck knows he still trusts him. Eddie might not understand all the implications of the way he still trusts Buck that much, but the implications are there. Then we have the lawsuit of it all. The lawsuit is categorically NOT about Eddie. But Eddie makes it about himself because he can't understand the way Buck wouldn't consider him while deciding he didn't have the 118 anymore when he thought he was being clear about what Buck means to him. Buck made it legally impossible for Eddie to talk to him and Eddie does not know what to do with not being able to talk to the one person he relies on even more with the way Chris is also struggling. So dude makes a statement about his relationship with Buck using Christopher yet again. "Do you have any idea how much Christopher misses you? How could you? You're not around." We don't know that for sure but I think it is safe to assume that Eddie did not find out about the lawsuit directly from Buck so all of a sudden, he was not allowed to talk to Buck and he took that very personally, but he uses Christopher as a shield for how the thing makes him feel, but he's still very much talking about himself because the second Buck offers a solution so he can see Chris, he turns around with "it prevents me from reaching out to you, I couldn't even call you to bail me out of jail," so even though Eddie is hiding behind Chris, everything is very obviously about their partnership. But it's Buck who forces him to talk about them. And Eddie let it go because he wanted Buck to consider him and Buck basically promises he will from then on and he keeps that. The thing is, Eddie is in therapy at this point and while Eddie is good at repression, it's not like the dude is unable to name the shit he's repressing. That man has to have thought about why Buck leaving him made him that angry. He has to have thought about why one of the fights he starts is with Buck. He might've not connected the dots, but he has to have realized there are dots to connect. Even more, considering the way Eddie shuts down Buck's attempt to get him to open up about why he was so angry. He's all things got out of hand, let's not think about it because he does not want to open that can of worms.

Then we have the Christmas and the way Buck adjacently fixes a problem by helping organize the party and making so Chris can be with Eddie and the skateboard incident where again, Buck is part of the solution. Those are situations that show that Buck and Eddie have similar parenting styles. And all of that leads us to the well. Eddie's I need to keep fighting montage is very interesting because of the amount of Buck in it, so Buck is in his mind. But also because the well prompts Eddie to change his will. Something became clearer while he was down there because it's not like Chris wouldn't be well taken care of by his parents and he has sisters, he has a lot of blood relatives who would make sure Chris was cared for. He's known Buck for what? A year and a half? And this is maybe 6 months after the lawsuit? And the guy is like "yeah, I'm gonna make this dude responsible for my kid and I am absolutely certain he'll do everything he can for me like I would" after almost dying. Mr defines relationships using his kid gives his kid to someone after the type of experience that makes a human take a deeper look into their lives and I need to believe Eddie doesn't know? He might've not named it in his head. He might've not looked at it head-on and accepted what it truly means. But he has to know something. There's no way that man thinks that what he has with Buck is just a regular friendship. Especially because he hides it. He could've asked Buck, taken Buck with him to talk with his attorney, Buck would've said yes. But he hid it because he didn't want to answer the "why me" question because even during the will reveal my man is in deflection mode and does not fully answer why he did it, he just answers the "why are you telling me" question. He needs Buck to understand he matters and he pulls the will out of his pocket. He goes "here's a reminder you're loved" with something that's one hell of a statement for Eddie. It's the thing Shannon asks for as a statement about their marriage that he couldn't give until he was pushed to it. The idea that he doesn't have some level of awareness he's in love with Buck is... He has to know and just have accepted he is gonna take that to the grave because Buck doesn't want him like that because the way he acts is very specific for me to believe it's fully unconscious. Dude repressed the shit out of it, but he knows what he's repressing, there's no way.

#911 #buddie #otp: you don't need to pretend with me #buddie thoughts

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sebadztian · 3 months ago

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Throughout the manga, we've come across a few master-butler pairs in relation/comparison to Sebastian & Ciel's own relationship.

Now, not every arc has it, and the most notable pairs are Grell & Madam Red, Agni & Soma, and Wolf & Sieglinde.

Essay below the cut...

1. Madam Red & Grell

These two are probably the closest (so far) that we have in comparison to Sebas & Ciel. The butler in this dynamic is a supernatural being, who 'fell in love' with her mistress, but she ended up killing her when the Madam showed hesitation. I did make an essay about this a long time ago, comparing this with S&C. No, I'm not saying that Sebas would end up killing Ciel (at least, not in that way), but o!Ciel & Madam Red went through something quite similar.

They both were 'overshadowed' by their older sibling, and yet, they still adore them so much. Madam still loved Rachel, despite everything. While o!Ciel is not particularly fond of r!Ciel right now, there was a time when these two were inseparable.

The question is, if/when they come face to face with r!Ciel again, would o!Ciel hesitate - just like Madam did? And if he did, what would Sebas do?

2. Soma & Agni

These two are the complete opposite of S&C (at the time of their meeting). Agni had genuinely loved & worshipped Soma and he was so devoted to his master & his god, he'd 'betrayed' him in order to protect him.

As we know, Agni had made quite an impression on Sebas and the demon has taken a few of Agni's advice and applied them in his own work, such as putting Ciel's well-being above his orders.

So, my question would be, would Sebas end up doing the same thing? 'Betraying' Ciel in order to protect him?

Of course, nowadays, Sebas has softened up quite a lot, which also begs the question, would Sebas meet the same fate as Agni then? To die protecting his master...

3. Wolf & Sieglinde

Now, these two were unique, yet, they somehow mirrored Sebas & Ciel in their own ways.

A brilliant child who's been confined in a castle/manor, who grew up without knowing what out there, but then suddenly, they were thrust into the world with no one else but their respective 'butler' by their side.

At this point of the manga, we don't know what would happen to these two, or if anything would happen at all, so it's not easy to reflect on their 'ending' in relation to Sebas & Ciel.

Another thing to note about this pair is how they were separated briefly, where Wolf appeared to have 'betrayed' Sieg, but in the end, he came back to her side and protected her anyway.

General point

If you think about it, the timeline of when Sebas & Ciel met these other pairs also reflected where they were in their relationship.

When they met Grell for the first time, Sebas & Ciel were still at the point when they were pretty hostile to each other. If Kuro had ended there, I had no doubt that Sebas would end up doing something similar to Ciel as what Grell did to Madam.

But their relationship had developed from there and entered Soma & Agni.

Faith became a big thing with this pair and despite what Sebas said 👇

I believe that since then, he has developed some sort of faith (or something similar to it). After all, it was Ciel's confidence in him that has enabled him to fight on in the Campania arc 👇

It might've taken them a while to get there, but they did get there eventually.

Which brings me to Wolf-Sieg pair. At the point of their meeting, Sebas & Ciel were in 'good term', until Ciel got attacked by the gas and rejected Sebas. If they hadn't gone through what I'd call the 'Agni-Soma phase', I'm pretty sure that Sebas would've eaten Ciel for real. The old, Madam Red era Sebas would.

There were two different endings so far. Where the butler would end up killing their master, or the one where the butler would end up dying protecting their master. Sebas had almost gotten the second ending, so I'm quite confident that he'd never betray o!Ciel (at least not for real).

Ofc, nobody (except for Yana & maybe her team) knows how Kuro would end, but I thought this is an interesting point.

#sebaciel #sebastian michaelis #ciel phantomhive #madam red #grell sutcliff #wolf #sieglinde sullivan #agni #prince soma #kuro analysis

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captainuranium543 · 4 months ago

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Thing I've noticed about the Fairy tail fandom misogyny problem (I'm about to sound like such a nerd)

Not to be the loser of the year but the easiest way to see the bad treatment of women in the ft fandom is by imagining what would happen if you swapped the genders of gray and erza.

As we all know gray has a running gag of taking off his clothes, however while people clown on him for this it's also well known and obvious that he is more than that. He has depth and character beyond just that gag. In the more recent 100 year quest he really hasn't done that much by comparison to natsu Lucy erza or even Wendy. This has been (reasonably) upsetting to some fans arguing that he deserves better. I agree with this but I need you to imagine what the reaction would be if he was a women because it would be a completely different story.

If gray was a character who didn't get a lot of development and was always taking off his clothes as a women people would not be saying he deserves better then would be absolutely dog piling this dude calling him useless and fanservice only completely ignoring all his previous development.

How do I know this? Because that is literally what happened to Lucy. Back in the 2010s people WOULD NOT GET OFF HER ASS. people were constantly calling her useless (completely ignoring the fact that she's a brand new wizard being compared to guys who've been doing this since before puberty and NO SHIT SHES NOT THAT GOOD YET. THATS WHERE THE DEVELOPMENT COMES IN). It made sense for Lucy to be weaker than the others she was brand new to this and that was literally the point of her entire story to watch her grow as a wizard and become more independent and powerful. In some instances Lucy was written to be a damsel in distress character but rather then looking at her as an obvious victim of bad writing it was treated like it was somehow her fault. Gray and Lucy are very similar characters but gray is treated far more favorably right now than Lucy ever was back in the early days.

As for erza, people cannot stop calling her a plot armor character. All I see online is none stop hating, some people even claiming it's worse than natsu. The things is, to a degree they are right erza does have plot armor, the issue is that so does literally everyone else. As much as you don't want to accept it erza fights more so it's more noticeable with her but every single fairy tail fight outside of a few will have an element of plot armor ESPECIALLY for natsu.

The issue I have isn't that people are wrong it's that they completely ignore the fact erza is literally only being treated the same way male anime characters have been since the dawn of time but now suddenly it's a problem. Being overpowered and winning by punching things harder is fine as long as you're a dude ig.

It's even worse when people argue she's a Mary Sue because she objectively isn't. She not only has so many flaws that come to mind easily, she had probably one of the strongest character arcs I've ever seen. She's gone through more character development then 99% of the cast the only problem is that it happened very early and afterward Hiro didn't really know what to do with her.

That being said, even if she had no character arc at all I STILL WOULDN'T SAY SHES A MARY SUE. BECAUSE A MARY SUE IS A CHARACTER WITH NO FLAWS. AND NOBODY IN THIS SHOW IS MORE FLAWED THEN ERZA IS. I've heard people argue that all her flaws are comedic and, ignoring the fact this is just not true she has plenty of flaws that are genuine problems she needs to grow from (ie galuna island, tower of heaven and edolas), who cares if they are comedic? Natsu is also a very flawed person and has not had to change even a fraction of the amount Erza has and does that make him a Mary Sue? No. Do I still love him? Absolutely, he's funny as hell.

This post was not made to complain about gray or natsu btw Its not that I think they're useless or Mary sues I just don't think any of these characters are at all and I think people who do think that should all explode. Anyway this is just what I think feel free to disagree but don't try to argue with me because nobody is changing my mind on this one.

#fairy tail #natsu dragneel #lucy heartfilia #gray fullbuster #erza scarlet #yappin #good lord im insane

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kissesforsatoru · 1 year ago

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GUARDIAN ANGEL | wc: 5k~

GUARDIAN ANGEL!HOBIE BROWN X GN!READER

₊˚⌗ hobie was never supposed to get involved with you, yet you and him became irrevocably tied to one another.

⤷ cw : general yandere themes, soft yandere!hobie, near death experiences, marking (not in the way you guys probably think), jealousy, possessive behavior if you squint, implied power dynamics, pet names (love, sweetheart), horribly written british accent, utterly smitten hobie, softie!reader, reader is smaller than hobie, but angels are big compared to humans so that's why (he’s like 6’5+ and he wears platforms), EVERYTHING ABOUT ANGELS IN THIS FIC IS ENTIRELY MADE UP.

notes : please bear in mind that i don't have a full grasp on hobie yet, so he is probably definitely a bit ooc; i did try my best though!! i’m also planning to put this on ao3 at some point, so if you see it pop up there it’s not plagiarized, it’s just me ૮ ˶´ ᵕˋ ˶ა

♫₊˚.🎧 now playing . . . fool for you by noita

it was never supposed to turn out like this. you and him were never supposed to happen.

you were only supposed to be 'just another human' to hobie like the rest of everyone else. he wasn't supposed to get involved or contact you directly; he wasn't supposed to get attached. you weren't supposed to get attached to him either. but you did, and he did too. so much that he’s entirely fucked. there’s no coming back from this for you or him.

it's not like this is any of hobie’s fault though, not when he’s known to not follow the rules and definitely not when you're the most precious human he has ever had the pleasure of being the guardian angel of.

he will admit that at first it was boring to watch you, but then it was fun.

you aren’t anything incredibly special. just a broke college student with very few friends who likes to stay home more than you like to go out. but following you around and laughing his ass off about all of the stupid little things you did when you thought nobody was watching, like talk to yourself or narrate your actions, hobie really enjoyed that. he got a nice kick out of whenever someone would catch you doing one of those things and you’d get all flustered, shy, and painfully awkward.

you're undeniably adorable, and so refreshing. it's nice being your guardian angel in comparison to being one for some grubby old bastard whose morality borders far past what's considered to be good. hobie hates those people, pigs they are, all of them. you aren’t anything like them. you're boring, yeah, but hobie still likes you better than any other human.

he sometimes pretended that you were talking to him whenever you spoke to yourself out loud, even though that couldn't have been possible. he would smirk and respond to you still with his dry humor and witty remarks because it was fun and it gave him a delightful little buzz.

he didn't know how, or when, it happened, but hobie then found himself melting whenever he was around you, and more, he didn't mind it.

hobie used to hate angels that fell for humans because they’re such fragile beings; you have to be careful with them, all gentle and soft—it's why they need guardian angel, otherwise, they would die out faster than any other species earth has ever known. and angels, despite what people may think, aren't gentle lovers. they're aggressive and intense by nature due to their power and status as "higher beings." humans are too weak to handle an angel's love; it would be too overwhelming for them to handle, so falling for one is pointless, and hobie always thought that the angels who did were stupid. but he gets it now.

he shouldn’t though.

guardian angels have very specific and strict rules that have to be followed meticulously for both the safety of humans and angels. of course, hobie has broken more than a few of these rules before and he’s also gotten plenty of lectures from miguel about it too—enough for hobie to have actually considered flying under the lunatics' radar by doing his job correctly, but hobie... he doesn't like to be pushed around and forced into a role. especially one as heavy as guardian angel. that's just not him, so he does what he wants.

but still, hobie has never seriously messed up before. he's only had a few slip ups here and there that aren't too reprimandable in comparison to other things. he's tried to be somewhat serious about his job, follow all the important rules and all that. that is until he fell for you.

hobie has broken many of the important rules for you, and the first one was even falling for you in the first place. you made him break that one so easily, almost too easy. the next rule hobie broke for you was communicating with you directly, revealing himself and really getting involved with you. but to be fair, that also wasn't his fault. he didn't have the intention of letting you see him that night, let alone talking to you; it just happened.

your friend gwen told you about guardian angels and how it was possible for you to manifest using the help of yours, and you were awfully excited about finding out if that was true or not. you asked him for a sign that he was there, that he was willing to help you. one thing led to another and suddenly you were nestled deeply into the corner of the wall on your bed, wide eyed and shivering as you stared at him standing across the room.

perhaps it was your over eagerness mixed with his half-developed love for you at the time that made him stupidly decide to give you a sign that he was real in the form of literally showing you that he was real, he doesn't know. either way he did show you himself, and it had shocked you, really (an understatement). it took many hours of him consoling you to get you to understand that he's not some psycho who broke into your home somehow, but your actual, real guardian angel, in the flesh.

you were practically all over him after that, asking him all sorts of questions and touching him just to see if that was even possible for you to do—and to know what it would feel like too. not that he minded anyway. hobie decided then that it was much better having you actually talk to him than it was pretending that you were. and your touch was so soft that hobie had actually faltered a little bit when you reached for his cheek, pressing your palm against his skin and keeping it there for as long as he would let you.

of all the places you could have touched him, of course you would choose an area that felt so unreasonably intimate, shaking him to his core. luckily you were far too enamored with the idea that he was a real angel for you to notice how much you’d set him off, how much you affect him.

after that he couldn't stay away from you. before he might have had a chance to snap himself out of his little love-sick puppy stupor, but having you aware of him, talking to him, touching him—it was all exhilarating; he loved it. and it would truly be unfair for anyone to expect him to pull away from you and never let anything like that happen again. that was never an option for hobie, so he just didn't. he won’t ever deny himself the pleasure of you.

the last, most recent rule that hobie broke for you, and the one that happens to be the most important of all, was interfering with your life. going against "fate," as miguel calls it. hobie always thought that it was bullshit since a guardian angels' job is to protect, but apparently, they aren’t allowed to prevent their assigned human's death, or cure their illnesses, or anything like that, even though they had the power to. he didn't understand it, but still, he never got attached enough to feel the need to go against that rule until he fell in love with you.

— ୨୧ —

he indulged himself little by little with you. first by allowing himself to enjoy being your guardian angel, then by falling in love with you and involving himself physically with you. and then he started allowing himself to steal your attention from anyone or anything other than him on days he felt oddly needy.

that term isn't something anyone who knew hobie would use to describe him, not even he would use it to describe himself, but with you he's always acted a little bit different. he came to accept it, told himself that it was the "y/n effect" and left it at that. being needy with you was something that hobie didn't really mind all that much; he embraced it, really.

hobie can at least get away with a little bit of harmless interference this way, by stealing your attention for himself. he didn't mind receiving another long, boring lecture about how he can’t keep breaking rules if it meant he got to spend his day with you holed up in your little apartment, just the two of you. you and him and nobody else.

he'd show up out of nowhere when you least expected him to, always, and tug on your arm, pull you into his body and coax you into staying with him. he'd tell you that going to work would be bad for you, leave you sick and groggy—you hate being sick and all groggy, and only a fool would think hobie wouldn’t use that to his advantage.

"you have to listen to your guardian angel, love," he would tell you, tilting his head to look down at your small frame, admiring the slight angry pout on your lips. "i know what's best for you, so stay, yeah?"

you always do listen to him. you trust him completely, after all, because you're such a naive human that could never ever think that hobie, your guardian angel, has bad intentions with you. and he doesn't, no, he's just a little bit selfish. no harm in that, right? 'course not.

hobie can go a little overboard with his selfishness whenever you have a date to go on though. he shouldn't be because you're a human and he's an angel and he could never have you for real, right? so he should let you have your little love story with your puny little human boy.

but hobie is going to be selfish regardless of the facts. regardless of some stupid rules.

he hates the idea of you being with some dumb human when you have him. he's perfect, he's an angel. he's strong enough to protect you, he has your best interest always in mind—it's his literal job—he can love you the way you deserve to be loved and more, he can care for you better than anyone else in the world because he knows you best and knows exactly what you need without ever having to tell him. no human can ever compare to him.

no human will ever be as cool as him either. hobie doesn't think any guy can top him when he's a punk angel—what could possibly be cooler than that? you said it yourself when the two of you first met.

"wow, i didn't think angels could look so... cool. hobie, you're amazing; what the hell!? how did someone like me get you as a guardian angel?”

who are you to be going on dates when you compliment him so sweetly like that. you obviously have an interest in him and all hobie needs to do is push you in the right direction, so he doesn't mind telling you any excuse he can come up with to get you to drop a guy, stupid and unreasonable or not.

"that guy just wants you for your body."

"that guy has a love already that he's not telling you about."

“that guy isn’t a good person, he’ll be a bad influence for you.”

"sweetheart, he's too ugly for you." he told you one time as an excuse, and you did not like that one.

"hobie! it's not about looks, it's about personality, and– and the heart!" you yelled at him, smacking his chest lightly as you pulled away from him and rushed your way down the hall towards your room.

"oh, s'at right? you like guys with ‘heart’?" he huffed a laugh as he followed behind you, leaning against your door frame when he got to your room. you turn around to glare at him, but he only smirks at your ruffled posture.

cute. cute.

"yes, actually! unlike you. i had no idea angels could be such assholes," you grit before turning back around to flop yourself face first into bed.

you always do that when you're upset with him, which isn't often at all, but it happens enough for hobie to pick up on the little habits you develop, and this is certainly one of them. you don't like looking at him 'cause he ‘does stuff to you,’ apparently. makes you unable to stay mad if you look at him too long, so you just choose not to.

he pushes off the wall and saunters towards you, pressing a knee into your bed as he reaches over to tug at your arm, urging for you to roll over, to look at him. "c'mon, you don't mean that, love." he smiles when you do eventually turn to look at him, and this time with a much less angry expression on your pretty face.

"no, i don't," you sigh defeatedly, "but you are pretty mean sometimes, hobes."

that nickname. he loves that nickname. he loves even more that you were the one who gave it to him.

he hums thoughtfully before responding, "not to you though, and tha's what matters, don't you think?" you roll your eyes at him, shifting so that you're flat on your back now as you look up at him. you don't say anything more, only stare up at him with your pretty eyes, all glossy and shining under the dim light in your room. big, and so fucking innocent.

god. fuck.

hobie crawls over you slowly, keeping his eyes steadily on you as he does. he brings a hand to your cheek, stroking his thumb over your soft skin gently as he settles himself above you, and then he reaches his thumb to press into your chin so that he can get a good grip on your face. to keep you from gettin' all shy on him, ‘cause he knows you will when you realize what he’s about to do to you.

his eyes flit down to your lips when your tongue darts out to lick across your bottom one, all sensual like—or maybe hobie is getting too worked up. yeah, probably that, but whatever.

you sigh shakily when hobie starts to lean down closer. you're so pliant, laying there nice and still for him even though you're feeling nervous right now. because you trust him; there isn't anything hobie could do that would make you not trust him.

hobie has to keep himself from absolutely devouring you when his lips press to yours. he has to remind himself to be soft, to not be too aggressive so he doesn't scare you too much, or hurt you either; the weak little whine you let out as he kisses you does nothing to help his self-control stay intact though. thankfully, you grab tightly at his leather vest and tug for him to come closer, inviting him to press further into you and kiss you deeper.

hobie balances himself up on his knees as the hand that was holding him up comes to knead at your waist and tummy, feeling and rubbing there as gently as he can right now in his worked-up state—which is just barely enough for him not to leave imposing bruises on your skin from how much stronger he is compared to you. you don't seem to mind how tightly he holds onto you though, because you're still eagerly kissing him back, making all sorts of pleased little noises that hobie is all too happy to swallow up.

hobie only pulls away when you start squirming under him, signaling that you need to breathe. he wraps his arms around you and pulls you tight against his body as he nuzzles into your neck, inhaling your delicious scent and placing little kisses on your neck as you pant softly.

"you don't need another man, you know that love?" he ask you, tells you, after a while of the two of you just laying together.

"yeah, i guess i don't," you reply to him, airy and quiet, right before you fall asleep tucked nicely into his arms. exactly where you belong.

— ୨୧ —

jessica stops hobie one night right as he's about to leave and go see you.

"if miguel finds out about this, you know he's going to be pissed, right?” she says, coming up behind him. “maybe you can get off on a wrist slap for breaking small, stupid rules, but falling in love with a human is something miguel absolutely will not allow, hobie."

hobie scoffs and rolls his eyes but doesn’t reply, nor does he turn around to look at her. his emotions and feelings would be right on display for her if he did. she’d know well how much he fucked up, and that would be a hit to his pride. ‘specially since he always told her about his dislike for angels who fell for humans.

"what’s ’at got anything to do with me, mm?" he decides to respond out of courtesy, turning his head to look at her through his peripheral, "i'm not in love with any human."

hobie knows that jessica knows that's a lie. it's obvious he's in love with you because of how different he's acting. doing his job right and all that, to some degree at least. breaking the 'don't get in physical contact your human' and 'don't fall in love with your human' rules aside, he's properly keeping up with his status reports about you, he's not off doing other things when he's supposed to be with you. he's being the good proper guardian angel he should be, and that is definitely out of character for hobie. it was really only a matter of time before someone found out. hobie is just lucky it was jessica who put two and two together first instead of miguel. then he’d have a real big problem on his hands.

jessica sighs. "all the stuff miguel says about angels getting attached and falling for humans being dangerous is true, hobie, not just some control tactic to keep angels on a leash. it could cost your human their life, and you your job," she warns before leaving.

hobie always liked how not-pushy she is; it’s why he prefers her over miguel. but he thinks she's wrong, because he would never let you die. ever. he couldn’t care less about losing this shitty job though.

— ୨୧ —

the conversation with jess, as much as hobie hates to admit it, put a real damper on his mood.

he's agitated when he gets to your apartment, showing up right in your room where he knows that you are because he can feel you there. and once he is there, he eases up a little bit. all of his racing thoughts seem to disappear when you come into his vision so he can see you now, not just feel you. seeing and feeling you is nice; it grounds him.

you jolt when you see him suddenly appear behind you in the reflection of the mirror that you're sitting in front of though. a gentle gasp falls from between your pretty lips as you whirl around quickly to look at him, eyes widening like a doe caught in headlights. you ease up quickly, realizing that it's just him; you sigh the words under your breath as you deflate a little bit, coming down from the brief bit of adrenaline you must have felt with him scaring you like that.

goodness, aren't you just so delicate? it's a damn shame hobie's not supposed to go falling for a human, isn't it? a load of tosh that is.

he smirks, "sorry, love. didn't mean to scare you li' that,” he says easy, stepping forward until he's a few feet in front of you, looking down at you, looking up at him. your eyes are glimmering under the artificial light of the lamp settled next to the mirror. he thinks that even in such dodgy lighting, your eyes and soft expression are still utterly enrapturing. the soft, charming glow that the light provides to your features draws a pleased hum from hobie.

so pretty. you're so damn pretty.

"geez, hobes," you say, huffing as you look away from him and down at your lap, "you can't just keep randomly showing up like that; you may well give me a heart attack one of these days if you do." your laugh is music to his ears. airy, pitched, and sweet like the ripest peach. sweeter than the ripest peach.

an angel's voice is supposed to be the most beautiful sound, people say, but hobie disagrees. he would much rather listen to you talk or laugh all day long rather than ever have to hear another word uttered from his shitty coworkers' mouths.

"i would never let that happen to you," he says, tone shifting from playful to serious. hobie feels better that he’s with you now, but the bit jess said about you dying clings to him still. weasels it’s way into his thoughts and makes his stomach lurch. he’s buzzing, and not in the nice delightful kind of buzzing that you bring out of him, no. he just needs you right now.

he needs to feel you—really feel you, beyond the way he feels your life force tied to him, fluctuating with your emotions and physical state. he needs to actually touch you, hold you.

hobie gets down onto his knees in front of you, wrapping an arm around your waist and pulling you up into his chest as he does. you whimper in surprise at the sudden proximity between you and him, your hands instinctively grabbing at his shoulder and jacket to steady yourself, even with how tightly he's holding you against him because his presence just overwhelms you too much. he always makes you feel dizzy and weak in the knees. you can never seem to function, not without his help. but that's normal between humans and angels. you aren't made to handle him, you aren't supposed to, but that's okay; he can be as gentle as you need him to be.

"look at me, love," hobie whispers, hooking a finger under your chin, nudging you to look at him. you squeak when your eyes meet his, no doubt incredibly flustered—he can feel that you are. can feel your pulse throbbing as heat rushes through your skin, radiating a dull warmth for him to sink into as his fingers dig deeper into your skin. he smirks, huffing out a faint laugh as he looks down at you, admiring you.

"there you go, sweetheart," he praises you softly, brushing the pad of his thumb across the slight curve of your bottom lip. your eyes flutter closed briefly as you take a shaky breath, and then you open them again, watching him intently, and god does it make hobie feel all sorts of things.

"'m never gonna let anyone or anything hurt you," he murmurs, tightening his grip around your waist and holding you firmly against his chest with each word uttered, “you’re too precious for me to be careless with you like i am the rest of the shitty people in this shitty world. only you matter to me, yeah? just you and nobody fucking else.” he finishes quietly, dipping down to kiss lightly on your cheeks, one on each side, and then another on your forehead, drawn-out and lingering even after he pulls away.

you're practically melting in his hold by the time he does pull away, so pliable and warm, and you're looking at him with hooded eyes that you can barely keep open. delirious as you are, utterly suffocated by him, your grip on his shoulder and jacket is still relentless, unwavering, as if he would slip away from you if you loosened up the tiniest bit. you want him, need him, near to you as much as he wants you near, really. it's not just him with all of these intense, overwhelming and all-consuming emotions; it's you too.

“hobie,” you whine, nearly breathless, “can you– can we please kiss again? on the… the lips?” you plead, tugging at his jacket in desperation.

“anything for you, sweetheart,” hobie whispers, leaning forward until his mouth is hovering over yours, breathing you in slowly before he finally closes them together. he kisses you slow and tender, taking his time in savoring how delicious you taste. you sigh contentedly, tilting your head to the side and parting your lips for his tongue to delve inside of your mouth.

the hand he has wrapped around your waist slides across your body, feeling every dip and curve down to your thigh, where he grabs at gently, swinging it up to his hip as he pushes off the floor. your legs wrap around him instinctively to hold yourself up in his arms as he carries you across the room to your bed, his lips never once parting away from yours as he does. his other hand is holding your chin and jaw in place so that you can't pull away from him either, wanting as much contact with you at a time as he can get away with. he knows you wouldn't pull away from him so easily, but he likes controlling the kiss, likes it when you let him lead the way and guide your body with his.

hobie carefully sits down on the bed and leans back against the wall, settling you into his lap comfortably before his hand starts roaming all over your body; along your hips and over your thighs, squeezing the fat in his hands before moving back up and dipping under your shirt to feel at your tummy. you moan and whimper into the kiss, shivering under his touch when his hand grazes along especially sensitive areas of your body.

when hobie pulls away you're panting and dazed, humming mindlessly in pleasure as hobie starts pressing kisses down your jaw and neck. his teeth graze lightly along the sensitive flesh beneath your ear teasingly before his tongue dips out to lick delicately at the spot, making your body thrum and pulsate in delectation. he nips once at your skin before finally pulling away to look at you, to savor how much of a mess he was able to make you into with a heated kiss. and god do you look absolutely stunning like this. swollen lips parted as you breath out small puffs of air, hooded eyelids, and your clothes are entirely disheveled from where hobie had pushed them up and slid his hands under.

fuck, you’re lovely.

"you look a mess, sweetheart," he rasps fondly, running his fingertips lightly along your hips and thighs.

"'ts your fault," you mumble, falling into his chest and nuzzling your nose into his neck, exhaling softly as you close your eyes and relax. hobie wraps both of his arms around you and rubs your back gently, soothing you until you hum contentedly.

"yeah, i suppose it is, isn't it?" he agrees quietly, not wanting to disrupt your somnolence.

hobie lays with you in his arms for hours after that, listening intently to your steady heartbeat and soft, rhythmic breathing, every now and then feeling you shift with a cute disgruntled little huff whenever you've stayed in one position for too long. hobie loves your sleepy, content little sounds, loves the way your fingers curl around his vest; even in your sleep you're still clinging onto him, because you need him, and he loves it.

hobie loves you.

— ୨୧ —

hobie knows he's not supposed to interfere with fate. it's against the rules, or whatever bullshit excuse everyone says it is. hobie didn't really care that much about it before because he's never cared about anyone enough to ever want to change their fate, but now he has you, and you need him more than ever to keep you safe, to keep you from dying.

god, he doesn't know how it happened, but you were crying for him so desperately. curled on the floor, gasping for air and clutching onto life with weak claws, you were calling his name. it was like sensory overload, hearing every strewn-out letter of his name mixed in with your sobs, with the incessantly throbbing and pulsating of your life force weakening, slowly and agonizing.

the second you had been put in danger, hobie felt it. all throughout his body and deep within his soul, he felt you dying. there was a shift in the air at that moment, a suffocating, excruciatingly tense one that everyone around hobie had noticed; jess and miguel, and his best friend pavitr.

they all yelled and screamed at him that he couldn't go to you, lunging to stop him as he fumbled for the watch that would help him get to you the fastest, but the noise they made was dull and muffled in comparison to the way you cried for him. and god did it feel like he was getting stabbed through the heart mercilessly every time that you did. how dare they ever expect him to just listen to then when you were in so much fucking pain, all alone and the only one you wanted was him.

he had to save you. fuck the rules and fuck his shitty job; you were far more important to him than any of that. it didn’t matter to hobie that in order to save you he had to enchain his soul with yours, it didn't matter to him that he would share every bit of pain with you now, even your last breath if you ever took it, because hobie would rather give up his entire being to you than ever have to live without you.

#yandere #yandere thoughts #yandere imagines #yandere atsv #yandere spiderverse #yandere hobie #yandere hobie brown #hobie x reader #hobie brown x reader #hobie brown x you #hobie x y/n #hobie x you #hobie brown x y/n #soft yandere #atsv x reader #atsv x you #atsv x y/n #gender neutral reader

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invaderzia1 · 1 year ago

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Horns (Wyll x Tiefling!Reader)

After breaking his promise to Mizora, Wyll navigates life as a brand new Tiefling. Luckily for him, he has support in his tiefling friends.

yes I’m aware the game isn’t out yet but I really liked that scene with Wyll and Mizora. Also this is set in act 1

Since disobeying Mizora, Wyll had been rather moody. Nobody could really blame him, not after the way she stormed into their camp and basically turned him into a tiefling, laughing about how some magic even she can’t fix. She left him with rather hefty horns on his head, leaving him to figure out how to navigate life with them by himself and laughing about how it’ll affect his reputation as the blade. So nobody was surprised when the heavy horns caused Wyll to struggle with his balance and maneuvering through his recent days, but they rather kept to themselves, all having other things to deal with then offer support to the poor man.

Except, you had been watching him. You had always found him quite charming and handsome, it honestly made you quite glad that he accepted traveling with you and the rest of your companions.

It had been a week since the incident and you’ve kept a close eye on Wyll, giving him space to process everything. But being a tiefling yourself, you couldn’t help but notice the lack of care he is giving his new horns. You knew what happened when people didn’t take care of them correctly, having suffered the consequences of failing to properly take care of your own.

Wyll is stood by the river near camp, having finished cleaning himself and getting ready to join the others for whatever food Gale decided to cook up. He barely even notices you sneak up behind him, too busy staring at himself in the reflection of the lake, still not used to his visual changes.

“You know, you gotta take care of them.” Your voice startled Wyll, causing him to jump slightly before turning to look at you. “Can’t just pretend they aren’t there or they’ll grow weird or get too brittle.” You moved closer to him, trying yo be cautious around him while assessing his new horns. “Kind of hard to tell right now what they’ll do, but I have some extra things if you need them.”

“What?” Wyll says in disbelief, almost self conscious about you having noticed how poor he’s cared for them the past couple days.

“If you don’t take care of them they might start grow weird.” You walk over, trying to get a better look at how his horns seems to be growing. “Or, they’ll become brittle and start to chip off.” Reaching up, you cautiously bring your hand to his right horn, but refusing to touch it until Wyll gave consent.

It takes Wyll a few seconds of going through his emotions before he leans his head down, letting you touch his horns. Your hands touch softly against it, standing on your top toes to get a better look at where they meld into his head. Then moving to look at the sharp tip of the horn.

“Hmmmm,” you let your feet fall flat again, letting go of Wyll, “I have an extra pad to smooth it down. They look healthy, but you are going to have to be careful of them getting over grown.”

“Like a sheep?” His voice comes out as a mix of surprise and disbelief, raising an octave.

“Yes,” you smile, finding it a little funny how that’s the only comparison he could think of, “like a sheep.”

He makes a noise of annoyance, accompanied by the sound of your laugh. As he looks up at you, he takes notice of your broken horn, recalling Karlach also has a similar situation. It feels rude to just ask, but he feels the situation permits it.

“May I ask what happened to your horn?” Wyll nods his head to your broken horn, instinctively your hand goes up to touch the nub.

“Oh this old thing,” you start, laughing a bjt to yourself as the memory surfaces in your brain, “fun story actually, when I first started traveling I didn’t have enough money to keep my usual tools with me. So I went without taking care of them. Ended up in a fight against a lone gnoll, thing got a good grip on my head and just took the rest of my horn off.” You can’t help but laugh, knowing to everyone else that seems wildly traumatic, but so much time has passed that you feel disconnected from it. “Luckily, I was able to even the score. We both left that fight pretty fucked up.” Your hand falls to the necklace around your throat, decorated with teeth that Wyll is now able to identify as gnoll.

Wyll’s mouth drops horrified for a brief second, then letting air escape his nose as he starts to laugh. It’s a weird and fucked up thing to bond over, but for the two it seems to work. As the laughter dies down, you put a hand on his shoulder.

“Wait here, I’ll go grab my bag and help you with them.” You say, then running back towards camp, leaving Wyll slightly flustered by your kindness.

You rush back, a brown bag tightly held in your hands as you come back. You gently lead Wyll to a large rock by the water, patting it for him to sit down, which he does. Placing the bag next to him, you jump onto the rock and kneel behind him, just like your parents used to do for you when you were young. Reaching into the bag, you pull a small vial of a yellowish liquid and a round brown pad.

“Alright, now this is horn polish, you can find it in most market places or you can make your own.” Your hand snakes over his shoulder, showing him the vial. “It goes on before you use this,” your other hand goes over his other shoulder, reveal the coarse rough pad of material. “This will help you buff out your horns and keep them looking smooth.”

Your hands disappear behind him, he can hear the vial open behind him and then feels your hands softly applying some of the liquid to his horns. You take great care in making sure you cover all of them, then wiping your hands off on your bag.

“This is going to feel kind of weird the first couple times, but it’ll get better, I promise,” you warn him, giving him a few seconds to brace himself.

The feeling of the rough pad against his horns is awkward and uncomfortable, almost like hearing nails on a chalk board. Wylls teeth grit together as he clenches his hand together, trying to brace himself as you go to work. He feels your body get closer to him, trying your best to comfort him while using both hands on his horns. You try your best to be both thorough while going quickly, recalling how much you hated this when you were a kid. To try and distract him, you opt to speak.

“When I was a kid, my dad used to help me with my horns. He was always better at this part than my mom,” you admit. “I used to start crying when she would do my horns for me because she was so rough with it. If I saw her with the pad in her hand I would immediately start crying and run off, trying to hide. She’d always find me though.”

“Really?” Wyll chuckles.

“Yeah. Looking back, I feel kind of bad about the trouble I gave her when she was just trying to help me. But at the time it seemed like a reasonable response.”

Wyll and your laughter blend together, the mood becoming more light as you continue to work on his horns. He starts to tell you small bits of his teen years, talking about the trouble he used to get in.

“Alright, now that we are done with this part, it’s time to move on to the finish touch,” your voice announces, slowly putting the used product back into the bag. You pull out another bottle, this one looking more clear than the polish, but a thicker consistency. Your hand rests on his shoulder, leaning over as you show him the bottle more. Wyll feels his heart rate pick up feeling you this close to him, but watches as you start to explain this product. “This is your last step, it’s a protective coating to keep your horns shiny and helps strengthen the keratin.”

“So, I just slather it on them?” Wylls face turns slightly to look at yours.

“Yeah, you don’t need much either, it spreads like crazy.” You lean back, popping the bottle open and reaching up to his horns again.

Slowly, your hands start to rub the oil onto his horns, being as gentle and smooth as possible. It grows quiet as you concentrate on keeping the oil only on his horns and making sure it’s spread as thin as it can be. Wyll, on the other hand, grows quiet as he enjoys the intimate position you are in. It’s been years since he’s felt this close to another person, having spent years to following Mizora closely. He allows himself to drift closer to your touch, feeling more at ease now than he has the past couple weeks, possibly even the past couple years.

“And that should do it,” you reach down and wipe off your hands on your bag. Wyll snaps back to reality, giving some space between you. You smile softly down at him, then gesturing from him to look at himself in the lake.

Wyll stands up and takes a few steps, looking down at his reflection and seeing how nice his horns now looked. Moonlight now illuminated them from the shine, its a small change but it makes him feel warm. It’s the first time since becoming part infernal that he’s felt content with his new appearance.

Wyll looks back up at you, still looking amazed by the work you had done. He takes a step closer, putting a hand on your shoulder as he speaks.

“Thank you.”

“No problem, I know it’s been tough for you.” You smile softly at him.

Wyll moves closer, as if he wants to lean closer. You prepare yourself for him to do so, your body leaning closer to his until a loud voice interrupts the both of you.

“Are you two done down there or should we just eat without you?” You both hear Gale ask, followed by comments from Shadowheart and Astarion that you most certainly don’t need to hear to know that its innappropriate.

Now both your cheeks flush red, flustered by being caught by the rest of the group. As you hear Astarion make one more comment, you start running up the hill and threatening to grab your a stake for him. Wyll just stands there, watching you as you start to argue with Astarion, hearing Shadowheart and Karlach laugh at the display. His heart fills with warmth as he looks back at his reflection in the lake, seeing the way his horns now shine with the moonlight. Grabbing your bag, he slowly makes his way back to camp.

#wyll x mc #wyll x reader #wyll x tav #baldurs gate 3 x reader #baldur’s gate 3 x reader #baldurs gate 3 #baldur’s gate 3 #maddy writes

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supercalime · 7 months ago

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hellooo, fellow bucktommy shipper (and casual b*ddie enjoyer, if it weren't for the horrors...) here! i really liked your take on b*ddie st*ns and how they are now making super wild assumptions based on some latest interviews.

you know one thing that irks me? somehow nobody seems to talk about is the fact that in canon, buck isn't written to be in love with eddie at all. like, can we please talk about this??? because I'm all for Death Of The Author. OS can talk about ships all he wants but in the end, only the canon narrative matters to me personally. i've watched long-form content with endgame couples being set up in the pilot episodes who become canon many seasons later (bones, castle, grey's anatomy, the mentalist, etc.), and the entire point of such couples is to establish that, yes, they have been having romantic feelings all this time since day one. they do so very very obviously. there is zero subtlety or room for questioning.

one of the most common tropes is to give one or both characters (of the endgame couple) another love interest so that the endgame couple can be full of jealousy and pettiness every time that other love interest is mentioned or shown. having another love interests always endangers the original closeness of the endgame couple, and then the breakup propels the endgame couple forward in their relationship. the love interest is always used for comparisons, to make it abundantly clear that everybody else is lacking in some way. at no point in 911 did they do so with buck and eddie??? these dudes go through various romantic relationships, and never ever has it been any issue to the b*ddie dynamic. never was it talked about. never were hints dropped that one of them is jealous. even now, with bucktommy, eddie shows not a single ounce of jealously. on the other side, look at how they showed us buck being obviously jealous because eddie monopolized tommy's time even though buck wanted tommy time himself! buck couldn't stand the jealousy even a little bit, and he ended up literally hurting his bestie because of it. but whenever eddie is involved romantically and sexually with someone, there are zero signs that buck is bothered or threatened or jealous. they both seem super chill? they do not question at any point that them dating other people might hurt their relationship? logically, that must mean buck's never wanted to be romantically or sexually involved with eddie (and vice versa). at it's core, b*ddie has been written as a friendship. to this day, we have no canon proof for anything else.

i would not hate b*ddie to happen or anything. i do enjoy b*ddie fics (those that aren't super misogynist ♥). and i think it could be a great couple if done well! but as you said, even when buck thought eddie was hot... well, so what? that's literally just an objective observation. RG is handsome based on societal standards. chim and hen also immediately acknowledged that eddie was hot in 2x01, and both of them are Not At All romantically or sexually attracted to eddie either. nobody is questioning chim's or hen's sexuality based on the comments they made about eddie being hot. because nothing about this equals real romantic feelings or the desire to be in a relationship. the fandom understands that logic just fine with chim and hen. why not with buck, though? also, we have yet to see a reversed moment for eddie staring at buck and finding him hot. they had no problem to show eddie Immediately having a crush on ana flores when he first met her. this shows that eddie feels sexual attraction just fine. he was, however, never shown in canon to feel it for buck.

also interesting: even though buck found eddie hot when they first met, it did not trigger buck to seriously question his sexuality at any point in the past like, 5 years or so. in all those years of canon b*ddie friendship, the show has never used the plethora of opportunities to propel b*ddie into romantic or sexual territory. the show could have! but the show never did, so i refuse to let b*ddie st*ns or OS retcon this. if it's not in the canon material, it isn't canon. with tommy, it took only a couple of weeks and a handful of interactions for buck to reach a point of clarity about his sexuality. the most logical deduction imo is that buck simply clocked that eddie's hot (like everybody else, duh, he isn't special in that regard), and it's never meant anything deep.

my only real probem with this entire situation is how hardcore b*ddie st*ns are now using this as a justification to harass others even more (especially bucktommy shippers). i'd love to enjoy canon bucktommy and fanon b*ddie in peace! but the hate that b*ddie st*ns are spreading everywhere again (like with every new season and newly introduced love interest) is so overwhelming.

sorry for the long ass rant btw oopsie. feel free to ignore this. i just wanted to let it out and it seemed like you would understand. anyway, thanks for reading in case you got this far!

I’d never ignore a sensible take, anon! (I feel bad that you had to go anon but I understand. We know the drill by now, some stans are scary lol)

But like, ALL OF THIS!!!

Discourse like this is what takes away the enjoyment of media for me. It sucks that fandom experience can have two very extreme opposing sides, specially when it comes to two “competing” ships. You can kinda tell by how bucktommy shippers behave (I’m not trying to flex at all because I am one. A good majority of us has zero problem with b*ddie endgame even though we prefer the other. We like what we are getting and are happy to see this storyline play out) compared to b*ddie shippers (of course not all of them, I’m talking about the entitled ones. That clog comment sections, bother actors, go to the other ships tag to complain about it and say how their preferred ship is better, etc).

Im not immune to bad takes and bad fan behavior. Ive surely acted like these stans in other fandoms and i do regret it, so i hate seeing it happen again and again, no matter where i go.

Not to quote mean girls, but I wish we could all get along…

All that being said, whichever ship “wins”, it’s no one’s call but the writers and producers of the show. Someone told me that Tim writes for himself and doesn’t take outside factors (at least to an extent cause it’s impossible to not know the fan reaction) into consideration when it comes to where he wants the story to go.

#don’t apologize anon #im not a popular blog so getting a nice ask is always fun to read and respond to :)#lety rambles #ask #911 #bucktommy #tevan #firefly #firepilot #911 abc

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itsblasttothepast · 3 months ago

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What's your take with what happened to Logan? You seem to like him, are you afraid this could happen to Checo as well? Firing every american on the grid?

I think that the whole thing with Logan was handled badly since the beginning; he needed support and guidance, and instead he got extreme pressure and stupid comparisons. He has potential, yet nobody actually made the effort, which is why pisses me off how he was let go and how Williams barely made a somewhat farewell message.

I don't know if this will happen to Checo, to be honest. Now people are realizing that the car is the fucked up (RB20 is a SHIT CAR!), but also the rumor of Checo going to Audi is back again, stronger. Apparently Checo and Ricciardo are being considered for the seat (algo Valtteri), but Ricciardo said he doesn't want another team, he wants to be in RBR or nothing, so that makes me paranoid thinking that maybe this was all set up to let Checo go at the end of the season to Audi, and Ricciardo getting the RBR seat.

I don't think they want to fire every american (considering they were just two, and now with Franco, still two but only until the end of the season), but I have to say F1 is always dismissing american drivers.

If Checo goes to Audi, to me would be so much better, leaving behind the RBR stupid antics, and also being back to the team that gave him his first F1 chance.

What I can say is that Logan deserved so much better, he was a good driver, just unfairly criticized and being under the microscope all the time isn't pretty.

Checo at least is used to, to Logan was fairly new and he managed it like a champ, but still team policies screwed him over.

#anon questions #logan sargeant #he was so pure #f1 didn't deserve it #williams even less #and don't get me started on JV #checo go to audi with nicooooo

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daisyychainssj · 1 year ago

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Absolutely nobody was wondering my opinion on this but I wrote this out in my drafts last night at like 4am so here is my order of the eggs heights! It’s very real and canon and I will not be taking any criticism (I’m kidding please tell me your thoughts and opinions if you’d like to! 🤲🏻🩷)

First of all, to me, the eggs are still young so when I’m saying any of them are “tall” I mean tall in comparison to their siblings not in comparison to the adult islanders. I think at best the taller of the bunch reach a bit above their parents waists. They’re still babies to me 🤏🏻

🎩 Dapper - T A L L for his age. I like to think this is because of the hc that bad, being a demon, is intimidatingly tall but is able to change how tall he appears like in front of the eggs for example as to not scare them. Also the hc that the eggs take on physical attributes of their parents so I like to think dapper has taken on bad’s height

🥀 Tallulah - This may be controversial to some people but she’s a Tall Girlie™️ to me. She was VERY small when Wilbur found her in the attic due to being malnourished. However, when she began being cared for properly, eating and sleeping correctly she began to grow pretty fast! Also spending all of her first couple of days out of the attic around Wilbur and becoming quickly attached to him she took on a lot of his attributes, noticeably his height

🐼 Leonarda - Kinda on the tall side but is pretty much the expected height for her age. Had a growth spurt earlier than most of her siblings so was the tallest for a while but when her first growth spurt ended her siblings’ began and now she’s happily average height wise which she doesn’t mind because she likes being small enough to be her pa’s (ONLY) baby but also she likes being tall enough that the younger ones remember that she is older and was here first!

⚙️ Ramon - Baby boy made in heaven by god himself has always been a little shorty among the original eggs. He’s never minded and still doesn’t. Fit assures him that he’s still got plenty of time to grow! Which is true! they’re all still young but he’s not stressed about it either way. Being smaller means he can sneak into places others can’t to have a snoop around and get into the smaller areas of his machines and projects

🐥 Chayanne - WAS the tallest of the original eggs and Tallulah, Richas and Pomme when they showed up but eventually his siblings hit growth spurts faster than he did. He’s not super upset about it and still feels like he needs to and is still able to fulfil his role of big brother even if he is smaller than them now. Apart from Richas who he is still taller than and he will absolutely happily point it out to him every opportunity he can

🍎 Pomme - Small but mighty! Pomme hasn’t really had any noticeable growth spurts yet. She’s petite but boy can she wield ANY weapon with confidence no matter how big or heavy. She puts on the front that she doesn’t like being on the smaller end of the scale compared to her siblings but truthfully she kinda likes that her parents can pick her up and hold her like they were able to when they first found her. When times were simpler and she didn’t have to constantly be paranoid and anticipating the next bad thing that’s going to happen and carry the weight of the world on her little shoulders and feeling like she has to protect everyone she loves. So yeah she’s short but she doesn’t really mind at all

🐮 Richas - Wants to be tall SO bad but the poor little eggy just isn’t. Shortest of all his older siblings and absolutely furious about it. If anyone brings up the fact that he’s short he WILL throw a tantrum about it and will probably kick you in the shin but that’s what you get for saying he’s small when he so clearly isn’t!!! (he is)

~ The New Babies ~

💎 Sunny - Small lil baby compared to the older eggs but taller than both of the newer eggs. They just give me the energy of being tall for their age but not by a lot ya know just like a bit above average for her age bracket

🥞 Em - Tiny baby, little baby with pancakes on her head. So small but will slap you upside the head with her frying pan so don’t be deceived by her littleness. She’s hoping she’ll grow a bit soon because she’s tired of having to ask her mum’s to pick her up to reach hard to reach places in her room whilst decorating

🍿 Pepito - Just the absolutely tiniest baby. Could fit in the palm of my hand, the tip of my finger even. No Pepito has ever been as small as this Pepito

#qsmp #qsmp eggs #q!dapper #q!tallulah #q!leonarda #q!ramon #q!pomme #q!chayanne #q!richarlyson #q!sunny #q!empanada #q!pepito #qsmp rambling

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aevyk-ing · 9 months ago

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Watching the making of Wish

-Patting their backs for reusing animation as an homage. Like yeah, it’s nice, there’s work behind that, but it’s the way they say it, like: “We’ve worked hard! Trust us!” We know animation is hard and the problem with Wish was never the animation.

-I didn’t know Sabino was based on Roger from The Aristocats. I love Roger, he’s delightful. Poor Sabino just looks bland in comparison.

-They say Asha has her good and bad traits (which isn’t true) and is so brave to go against what she has believed her whole life. I've seen that done way better and with actually compelling characters.

-“She has to balance being a good friend and family member to speaking the truth and I think we can all relate to that” Well… nope. All those things can be different things. And both your friends and family should help you or at least listen to you.

-Saying that the “I want” song explains how the character is, like… duh.

-Well, yes, Ariana DeBose did great with what she was given.

-So Asha has freckles because some people of North Africa and Southern Spain have freckles… what? Any skin color can have freckles. And I can’t talk about North African people but Andalusian aren’t quite freckled (yes, that’s the name of Southern Spain). Also, I never saw her as mixed. She totally follows more of her mother’s culture. That’s why I don’t like her calling her father’s father saba. Her mother’s father would be her saba and her father’s father her abuelo.

-I love Bill Schwab’s designs, he’s a great artist. But he was only told Asha’s age, race and height. Which yeah, it’s important, but for designing a character you should think about their personality too, because that also translates into their features, hairstyle, clothes and mannerisms. We still don’t know anything about Asha. Is she shy? Likes comfy clothes? No, wait, she’s adorkable.

-They talk about Disney Princess gowns using elements from the current period where they were made (something quite interesting) but they just put the Modern twist in Asha’s hairstyle. Like, what were you afraid of?

-Maybe I’m reading too much into this, but Schwab’s just did his job with a model sheet and that was the ONLY reference they had for animating Asha for a while. Then one of them used his daughter as inspiration and then Ariana came with lots of ideas. They didn’t know how Asha moved for the longest time! Their lead character!

-They say Asha is pure energy, which is… somehow correct? Like she’s just awkward and making those weird moves and trying to be cute and funny. The movie is done and nobody knows yet who the heck is Asha as a character.

-Apparently, Asha has details of pumpkin seeds all over her clothes and she’s wearing periwinkle because of the idea of making her THE Fairy Godmother. I still think she looks better in orange.

-Seeing the voice acting outtakes was good. But now I wish the Bland Dwarfs looked more like the actors. All of them have interesting features that could have been implemented in the designs instead of making them clones of the Encanto family and the mother from Strange World.

-The first deleted scene is after Sabino retrieves his wish and he sings a song. I would have put it in the end as a farewell song with everyone joining it.

-"The Wish equation" is to have a true wish, be responsible of it and… finding support? Fight for it? Exclude fear? Accept change? What are we even talking about? A dream career?

-They say the FG gave Cinderella the dress but couldn’t make the Prince fall in love with her, so she was supporting her! Like… Cinderella just wanted to go to the ball. BAM, there you go, a new dress, WISH GRANTED. Cinderella’s wish wasn’t to make the Prince fall in love with her, she didn’t even know him yet!

-“Music happens when you’re too overwhelmed with emotion.” This clip plays AFTER a snippet of "Welcome to Rosas". I guess Asha was too overwhelmed with being late. That shouldn’t have been a song, she should have told us about Rosas in the book opening.

-They wanted it to be like a fairytale and then hired a pop composer. Like the director says she grew up with the Disney Renaissance Era. Which used Broadway music!

-They talked about this earlier but “This wish” was the song that helped them write the movie, just like "Let it go" made them rewrite Frozen. So you can tell they didn’t have much to work on, maybe an idea: “Hey, just do a fairytale about wishes for our anniversary.”

-The songwriter was so overwhelmed with the commission she had to reach a friend to help her. Maybe because nobody actually knew what the movie was about? But hey, she’s the youngest to ever write a Disney OST.

-You know? The more I hear “This wish” the more I’m sure it’s the best song of the entire soundtrack.

-Hey, I know that guy in the archive! I’ve seen this clip before!

-I’m just hearing they didn’t know what the heck to do and dived into the archive for inspiration. I like the idea that they studied the greatest artists for some scenes, but sadly, all that is lost in the movie. They scenes are too short to appreciate the animation, but A+ for effort.

-They thought doing a fairytale illustration style was difficult to do… in 3D. Just don’t do it in 3D! Also, I don’t think it’s that difficult, Blue Eyed Samurai did something great.

-The composition is interesting and the backgrounds too, but the characters look quite bad.

-The illustration style led to the backgrounds (and everything) being in focus, which I think it also makes the movie look weird. Look at any old painting: the background is less detailed than the main focus (less brush strokes). They could have gone that direction. The backgrounds of Wish are too detailed a lot of the times and always in focus, so it’s distracting.

-BTW, most of this is: “We did this like in this movie, that like in that movie…” but, what’s original? What makes Wish its own movie?

-They talk about lines like lineart in animation, which we’ve seen it masterfully in Spiderman. But here is so subdued it doesn’t add anything.

-“Wouldn’t it be great to have a warmer climate than the one we’re used in fairytales?” Yeah, because there’s snow in Encanto and Hercules. Also, nothing tells us that’s a warmer climate. Google “Andalusia”, please. There’s flowers in bright colors everywhere, white houses, narrow streets and people, just a lot of loud and happy people. That’s Southern Spain for you all.

-At least with Frozen we CAN TELL it’s Norway. Here, there’s nothing that says SPAIN. Give us people eating serrano ham or tortillas, maybe put a bull around there, have them drink wine from botijos and play guitars!

-Again with the “this was based on this”. Rosas was inspired by The Sleeping Beauty: Germany and France. That’s a whole different architectural design! There’s no verticality as main focus in Mozarab architecture, is all about curves.

-“So it’s your fault.” Yeah, that doesn’t sound fun. I have the feeling you’re not telling a lot of things.

-You know, another Fantasia would have been great. Maybe one with all the Disney characters.

-This is now about the story of Disney, so yeah, padding. Also, way to use “At all costs” in the background. We don’t want to remember what you’ve done in the past, we just want you to tell a good story again.

-This should have been the beginning, the “wish upon a star” that put Wish in motion.

-It was going to be about the origin of the wishing star?

-“Return of Disney villain” Hahahahahahah…

-They didn’t know how bad Magnífico could be and made him do mean stuff like smashing Sabino’s guitar (they called it a guitar here).

-Also, apparently he was going to be shirtless in a scene. Like, you know, a Disney villain.

-We don’t watch him BECOME a villain, we watch a magic book CONTROL him!

-“With "This is the thanks I get" I was like, oh, yeah, we have a narcissist.”, so they didn’t know anything about Magnífico until the song was written! That’s why he doesn’t act like a narcissist much until that song and why the mirror ending felt rushed.

-“When Chris Pine came in I was like: that’s it, that’s the character.” Because they didn’t even had designed it? Like, that’s literally him!

-He did give it all to that song.

-Magnífico was an alchemist?

-“We didn’t want people to know he was evil right away.” Every poster and article: “Disney’s new villain, everybody!”.

-“Makes him more dangerous the quieter he is.” Magnífico in the end battle: eyes fully open, screaming, laughing.

-Oh, Star, here we go. He was going to be pure energy as well… just like Asha! Yeah, we were robbed. BTW, he’s not like Genie or Maui. Maui and Genie aren’t even the same!

-He could have been a fantastic creature as well. And all those designs look crazily fun. But also that’s the kind of exploration you do at the beginning of the production, not in the middle. Unless someone meddles…

-Someone went out to design different sparkles for Star but I could only see it being adorkable. Focused on the face so the sparkles weren’t even noticeable.

-“…they put their personality on it (Star)” Yeah, because none of these characters had any personality… nor have it now that the movie is done.

-People being made of stardust is one of the most beautiful scientific facts. “You are a star” is the worst song in the movie. No wonder it took so long to write.

-Nope, Doc was a leader. Dalia is just there… talking. Of course she’s a way to get the medal of “we put a disabled character” but at least she has more personality than Asha.

-BTW, just saw the Story Artist wearing a pin with a Pride flag in the shape of a Mickey.

-“She’s just a young woman, going with her life.” “And succeeding.” Yeah, representation is good, but it’s better if you’re not talking about how good you are for doing it.

-Also, we have mixed-race representation, older people with dreams representation, etc. but hey, that girl has a crutch, we’re cool.

-“Animals in Disney have to be smarter than people.” Why? Just why? And also, Valentino is no way smarter than any of the other characters. So why say that?

-“(Alan Tudyk) He pretty much made the whole character.” Yeah, because it looks like nobody had any idea of how these characters were.

-“Inspiration can came from anywhere.” You just COPY-PASTED the ideas of others.

-“Everybody has seen me crying in the studio.” For a good or bad reason?

-Ending with a Walt quote proclaiming they always do their best job… huh…

-“It served the story better to have Amaya as a good person.” Yeah, nope. It made no sense for her to switch sides so easily.

-Sabino dying would have been such a strong way to start the story. Him stealing Asha’s diary… yep, not good.

-Reinforcing my theory that Disney wanted to move away from shapeshifters after the Nimona fiasco.

-Looks like they gave the chaotic energy Star was going to have to Valentino.

-Making any other animal talking surely was a mistake. What’s with the sassiness?

-Dalia wasn’t called like that?! BTW, the writers were so proud of her clutch not being mentioned but, in the deleted scene, it’s the first thing they do. Twice.

-“When you’re underestimated, they don’t see your power coming until it changes the world.” Whoa, just whoa. Disney writers, everybody.

-LOL, the deleted scene with the animals is so bad. But Magnífico was going to transform into a Beast, so… kinda interesting?

Here's the link, BTW.

And congratulations if you read this all. If you're interested, here are my own Wish rewrites: 1, 2.

#wish #disney wish #rambling

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