#I originally had an idea of doing a whole series of these
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I probably still wouldn’t have been a big fan of the game, but I don’t think I would have been NEARLY as upset about TotK if BotW didn’t seem like it was so obviously setting up plot points for a sequel. Like, you’re very clearly MEANT to wonder what malice is, and how Ganon became the Calamity instead of just the Demon King. Fi is awake again, where are they going either that? What’s the deal with the Triforce-shaped symbol on Zelda’s hand? There were a LOT of other things like that, and many of them had to do with overarching lore for the series.
I get it if they want to reboot the series, but “BotW 2” was the single worst game you could have done that with. It could have been an amazing conclusion to the original continuity.
EXACTLY, you, you get it
botw felt like the introduction to a vast world with secrets and hints to things that were planned to become a bigger thing- a big giant game as a big giant set up, and then ... like totk likes to do alot, it lacks a pay off, and that is something it even does within itself, cosntantly, set up and no pay off, or set up and the most boring and uninspired pay off you can really not even call that, from the bigger things like the whole dragon thing being hammered into your head as irreversible and then it IS reversible.. out of nowhere without you having to do fuck all, the whole thing with the ancient hero beign a big mystery with lots of interesting ideas attached and then its some weird ass dog creature that doesnt resemble any other race with, of course, sonau armor, bc there nothing that isnt sonau in that game, even finding the old treasure maps you can find that then lead to amiibo stuff from botw id call that
botw wasnt that great with rewards either but exploring the world and wondering about those, surely intentionally, placed mysterious and intriguing designs and places did alot for making it so interesting to think about, totk fumbles it all and even the new stuff doesnt even come close to that environmental storytelling botw was so great at, sonau ruins? ha they look entirely different than in botw actually, bc those were built by hylians you see, the actual sonau stuff is in prime condition considering the time thats passed and its all the same blank blocky blocks that serve no purpose but to be a place for you to find a thing or exchange some currency- the most you can think about it is ... that the sonau hollowed out the entire underground of hyrule, every inch of the map, ... which is WEIRD and doesnt exactly make them look that good but ... thats all there is
at least with the shiekah it made somewaht more sense and it felt much less .. invasive? and you didnt have anyone from that time to talk to, other than dead monks whos only purpose is to give you their last piece of their own spirit, but in totk ... raurus ghost and mineru too are both just there to talk to but DONT tell you shit but vague hints that were already clear, the sky islands used to be on the ground? oh you dont say, you see them there in the stupid memories! and dont get to know how they got up there and theres nothing that can clue you in to that, its just sonau magic yet again i guess
dont even get me started on the whole malice/miasma thing, it made so much SENSE that there was a source of it, someone that has keep kept in a horrible place just between life and death for thousands of years trying to break free by their hate and anger manifesting to such a degree its literally spilling out and building creppy eyeballs, mouths and ribcage like structures like they are trying to rebuild themsleves outside of their awful prison no one knows about is so damn compelling, but no, actually, the guy trapped there was the msot evilest evar, was sealed bc him evil and no other motive, and the previously mentioned stuff is pretty much utterly unceonnected, and his magic beign miasma with red instead of pink and no creepy body parts was the true version of it, that pink one was its own thing heehooo SHUT UP argh
it doesnt help that really, i dont feel like the sonau were set up either, they were a tiny part in botw, really only serving to make the world seem more ancient and more full of history, having ruins from a past civilization there you know nothing about and cant find out more is so good, its compelling and sad and makes the world feel more real, just shoving them into everything, being the center of attention all of thes udden and not even the architecure fitting feels so ... forced, i really truly believe the og sonau werent meant to be more than that, but in their fear of the game being too similarly looking like botw they took the sonau to replace the shiekah with them-
imo the shiekah were the ones set up to be deeper explored in botw, with their whole misstreatment by the royal family in the past, monk miz kyoshia reacting the same way a yiga commander would was deliberate and brings up even more interesting ideas, the comments about where the mysterious energy the ancient shiekah used to power everything being concentrated in certain regions?? thats a big ass set up, the fact that the center of what is signaling everything to reactivate being below hyrule castle? the fact the whole arena thing was BUILT INTO THE CASTLE or it on top of it is so??? cool??? and sso damn intriguing, we are scratching the surface of their history- but then no, actually, the sonau are the cool new shit those other ones just uh ... disappear, also the sonau did everythign the shiekah did but even better wayy before them haha
its like they didnt want to tackle the more complicated stuff with the shiekah, their relationship to the royal family and how the yiga ... have a point and a good reason- so they replaced them with entirely new purely goodest good guys that did the same stuff before them with none of the history attached :))
this is why im so insistent on it not really being a sequel, thers no follow up on anything that was set up, NOTHING, and no, a couple having a kid now or whatever isnt a follow up on an interesting set up, how hard is it to understand that-
.... listen to me rambling, you probably know all that already nhjdfkbnkd
(i know i always bring up the shiekah but ... they were so central in botw, while also not taking up every single corner- unlike some other ones >_____>, with so much interesting stuff to connect and think about, i cared about them so much i felt kicked down the stairs by their treatment in totk)
#ganondoodles answers#ganondoodles rants#zelda#totk#totk critical#maybe its jsut me that feels so strongly about the unanswered stuff around the shiekah#but im#biting wood and clawing up the walls in my head
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hand on my stupid heart flashbacks
this is a No One Knows AU & Full Hazmat AU where Danny ended up in the Ghost Zone & didn't go back into the human world initially because he thought he was dead. by the time he realized he is, in fact, at least half alive, he'd already been missing for at least 2 weeks.
will probs never finish homsh sorry. i wrote this a couple years ago in a haze & just haven't been able to finish it because i can't replicate the style, which i find is what i love about this fic the most. it wouldn't be the same without it.
posting the flashback introsーwhich are meant to be read between chapters/the actual plot, starting after chapter 1ーcuz fuck it. excuse typos & shit, i never properly edited it, as i forgot it existed immediately after i wrote it
original description of homsh: Danny Fenton has officially been missing for over a year. Maddie & Jack Fenton refuse to give up on their son. Sick and tired of the police running them in circles, and the case getting colder by the day, the Fentons turn to their last resortーPhantom.
800~ words (full unfinished fic is 20k~)
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When Danny woke up surrounded by thick, green fog, and couldn’t breathe without swallowing heavy air that was more like water than anything, he was sure he was dead. The portal glowed behind him, illuminating the pitch darkness around him in soft, yellow, warm light.
He almost went back.
Almost.
He was dead. His parents were ghost hunters. They had drilled into his head from the moment he was born that he could never, ever panic in death. That he would accept it. That he would not be scared. So he would be prepared to be brave in the face of death and would not become a ghost.
He panicked. He did not accept it. He was terrified. And so he woke up in the Ghost Zone.
-
Danny went back through the portal when he saw some ectopuses acting… strange. Like they had an idea in their heads. Like they had a plan.
Which was weird, with animal ghosts. He had only been in the Ghost Zoneーmom and dad called it that, he rememberedーfor a couple weeks. Or, he had already been there for two weeks. Or maybe time worked differently and he was there five minutes, or four years orー
The ectopuses went through the portal and, despite everything, Danny went after them.
While he was busy reeling at being home, the ectopuses immediately attacked dad. Danny was horrified. Jack was overwhelmed. Danny stepped in, in a moment fueled by sheer adrenaline and stupidity, snatching a Fenton Thermos™ off a shelf and releasing his shaky invisibility. The ectopuses didn’t stand a chance. And when they were safely in the Thermos, he slowly turned around to dad, ready for the confrontation. Ready for the “what happened to you?” and the “where have you been?” and the “we’ve missed you”.
Dad scrambled to shoot at him.
Danny fled.
His parents didn’t recognize him.
-
The Lunch Lady attacked when Danny was mourning Halloween.
He’d waited all year. He made a costume that summer. He wouldn’t get to go trick or treating with Sam and Tucker this year. Or any year. For the rest of his lifeーor existence. Whatever.
The Lunch Lady appeared in the school and demanded in straight fury, “Who changed the menu?”
Everyone pointed at Sam.
Danny hadn’t known just how powerful ghosts could be. His parents never told him the specifics. Just that they were dangerous.
This ghost grew and her aura hit him like a hurricane, almost physically pushing him back. It was so strong that the students in the Casper High cafeteria seemed to feel it too.
The Lunch Lady was a much harder opponent than the ectopuses. She levitated meat. She used it as a weapon, and seemed to bring it back to life. She created weird meat creatures that grew sharp teeth and claws out of bones. They were mindless, attacking everything that got too close to the ghost. Danny would have run away without hesitation, if Sam hadn’t been in the crossfire.
Danny fought the Lunch Lady. It was a long struggle, but he caught her in the thermos after over an hour. When he turned to Sam and Tuckerーboth of whom he had to save due to Tucker trying to jump into the fightーall three of them bloody and bruised, he cringed. But a part of him hoped. Desperately.
Surely they would know him on sight.
“Wh-what are you?” Sam gasped at him finally.
Danny flinched as if she had struck him. “J-just… your friendly neighbourhood phantom.”
-
Danny didn’t know what possessed him. Oh. Pun not intended.
He just barely caught the Fentons leaving in the GAV, dragging suitcases behind them. He couldn’t help himself. What on Earth were they doing?
They were going to Vlad Master’s mansion for their college reunion.
It was a whole thing. But something was off. Besides all the adults reminiscing about the 80’s.
Danny sensed ghosts immediately but he couldn’t see anything. Unfortunately for him, Vlad could also sense him. It was two days of Danny staying invisible, and Vladーthe halfa? Is that what Danny is?ーtrying to kill Jack. Somehow, Danny managed to fight off Vlad, not turn back, and without the Fentons getting hurt. His secret intact.
VladーPlasmius, also learned about Phantom. And Vlad hated him. The manーghostーwhatever, seemed to only care about one thingーpossession. Of money. Of things. Of people. He was more ghost than Danny had ever seen. Vlad’s obsession was overwhelming.
Danny couldn’t believe someone so much like himself could be so disturbing.
#danny phantom#danny phantom au#danny phantom fanfiction#you know that gif of the wailing emoji dissolving? :Why:?#yeah that's what i do every time i remember i never finished HOMSH while i still had the style in my brain#feel free to steal this idea. please steal this idea. please write it i wanna see this idea so bad but im already writing another 100k+ fic#if y'all want me to post the full fic i can but. it is not finished & most likely never will be. sorry again#i won't lie. the haze i was in was a depressed one. i was. not in a good place At All when i wrote HOMSH#like the only part i remember actually writing was the panic attack scene & that's just barely#i reread the whole fic in the middle of the night months later while listening to Implode Alright by Built by Snow on repeat#yeah i cried. this one is funny but mostly it's just. mourning. grief. the works. it's a vent fic & also a. kind of. wishful fic#like. don't you just wish death wasn't so permanent. don't you wish you could tell them everything you wish you could#don't you wish you could just see them again#i'm actually writing this into a bigger ventier series currently called Let Grief Do Its Work#cuz i rewatched LUCIDS again recently & remembered what HOMSH was originally about. why i was writing it#i'm not calling it HOMSH cuz. HOMSHie is my baby. it's its own thing & i don't wanna ruin the vibes#reluctantly admitting i call an unfinished fanfic i don't remember writing... HOMSHie baby... in my head#yeah i have a cute nickname for my fic. what of it#it's 5am & i think i'll throw up if i think any more about posting unfinished unedited pieces of a fic so i'm going for it. cowabunga#go into the world. get your 2 notes you beautiful animal#*passes out*
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Poast about the "fucking some guy" saga behind the scenes because I can't shut up about it :]
The idea of this series started as just some Maul porn (possibly as a kinda flashback in what became They finally fuck each other this time) where he fucks a guy. Originally i was thinking of going with a twi'lek because they're what we see as sex workers the most in canon, and also the idea of them having two dicks (to match the two headtails) entertains me
As mentioned before, the base of They finally fuck each other this time is actually a wip I've had for Months and didn't know where to go with
There was a scene in the wip where Obi-Wan gives Maul a patdown to check if he's really unarmed, but it was not homoerotic enough and felt kinda out of place and out of character so I cut it
(There were also supposed to be more scenes with Bo-Katan, but once again. did not fit well enough.)
There was gonna be a scene like right after they fuck where Obi-Wan gets a call from the Jedi Council because he's been gone and out of contact for Hours so of course they're worried. and he's like. "oh don't worry I was just having a conversation with a slightly paranoid possible new ally. nothing much going on :) " [<- his neck is visibly covered in hickeys and bite marks]
[yoda voice] some bacta you need. terrible post coital manners your new friend has.
The original original idea continues well after where I ended the series, and involved Maul being imprisoned after Bo-Katan gets the throne except he's put in like. a ray-shielded apartment. and Obi-Wan has to live with him. because there's no way simple technology can keep a Force user imprisoned so they should have a jedi guard him, and Bo-Katan asked him so nicely, how could he possibly refuse to submit to the torture of living a domestic life with his nemesis with benefits.
And from then on it's all just. silly gay slice of life.
Like.
Very awkward jedi visits because everyone wants to see how Obi-Wan is doing but they're all distrustful of Maul even though he's just. vibing in his corner. sipping tea or reading a book. ignoring everyone staring at him.
VERY awkward Anakin and Padmé visit because he Senses she is pregnant and the children (he can feel it's twins) are Force-sensitive and he's like. well that's Interesting [<- doing his best not to bring up the topic of fucking jedi]
(the visit slowly turns into talking about the merits of leaving the Jedi Order for love and how that's totally fine and not a betrayal of one's morals and if someone wanted to stop being a jedi to go marry a senator and become a father that would be totally fine Anakin we would all be so happy for you. hypothetically.)
A mandalorian tries to "jailbreak" Maul but he's like. I'm fine where I am, so no thank you. and this probably happens like once a month.
Arguing about tea (it's like a hobby for them) (force help anyone who visits them during these arguments, they WILL force people to take sides)
And more!
#hm i should make an original post tag#hm i should make an original writing tag#obimaul#the duel took like a week to happen so obi-wan had time to go back and tell the jedi council what maul told him don't worry#he did not forget the main reason why maul kidnapped him. and neither did i. i just didn't know where to fit it in the post#palpatine is either arrested (and executed) or on the run. but either way he's definitely exposed#and the jedi can finally go back to their real job (pacifying the galaxy)#and obi-wan can finally get a fucking break#i loooove imagining silly little neverending scenarios it's like a whole series in my head. full of filler episodes.#which is why i would never be able to make the original idea a thing#because it's. ever-growing.#one day i'm imagining the anidala visit. the other i'm imagining barriss visiting and asking maul so many questions#like do your tattoos mean anything. what was your family like. are your eyes naturally yellow or do you make them like that on purpose.#and obi-wan being like. barriss don't be rude!! [<- has been wanting to ask all that stuff for ages but never had the courage]#it's fun to think about but it's not something that can be turned into a fic
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If it helps you out I always saw the shear angst potential in a kid variation of Tilly (until the dog army came in of course) and I don't know why I liked the concept of Tilly being forced into a world where it is almost impossible for any joy.
So I always saw Tilly as someone who wore combat boots that had a feather falling VI to stop her from dying the same way as her first one. Other than the boots, she mostly wore simple over sized clothes that Pearl gave her and bandages all over her body. I have no idea if this helps at all, but this is what I saw
(btw if i ever draw more of Tilly or Froggy without Pearl, I'll be doing it on main i dont wanna clog up this blog lol if you have more questions for them please direct them over there as well haha)
I like the idea of feather falling VI and i did play with the idea of her possibly being somewhat disabled in the legs, but I also am not sure if I want to keep this AU contained in the Life series world or even in the Minecraft world.
Sorry if I'm understanding wrong but what I'm getting from this is the idea that Pearl took care of human!Tilly, while in this AU Tilly is very much older than Pearl and Pearl is also. animal. currently just wolf but I'm considering shapeshifter possibilities. However, this does give me ideas, perhaps Tilly was once taken care of by a red witch? ey?
My thoughts for this AU is that it's not a roleswap or like a retelling of the events of DL of some sort, but really just an alternate separate universe from DL. Some parallel events may occur although im not sure how yet, and the main reason for this is because of Pearl's wolf army, where Tilly is the mother of them all and i really. cannot imagine human!Tilly less than like 50 years of age
(oh yeah also. just because of personal preference haha id rather not dress them in like modern clothes i like my historical/traditional/medieval clothing lol)
#not a doodle#mod morph#now that froggy is also on the table#this AU story bits will be determined by how she plays into LmL#this is like your usual mcyt zombie apocalypse au or something haha#same characters ish different setting ish different story ish#but a whole lot of references to the original story#oh yeah also so about shapeshifter pearl#this came from the idea of that ask where like pearl is a creecher#and i was thinking of like#the concept of the life series but as a creature#first thought i had was a lamb like a sacrifical lamb yknow#because death n stuff with the life series#how ironic its called the life series when everyone eventually dies#a cat could also do because nine lives perhaps?#six too many lives tho lol
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Creator Spotlight: GDBee Art (@prinnay)
Geneva Bowers is inspired by the wonders of the natural world around us, and enjoys manipulating colors to create art full of mood and feelings.
Check out our interview with Geneva below!
How did you get started with art? Did you originally have a background in art?
I’m going to say yes because that’s all I’ve known how to do. It started because I wanted to draw better horses than my sister, and it just spiraled from there. People started asking me to draw things because they saw me drawing horses. I was like, well, I can draw things that aren’t horses, and then it was just kind of all I did.
Have you ever had an art block? If so, how did you overcome it?
I have one right now! Honestly, with time, and I also collect art books; I think I have a couple hundred. If I really want to draw something, then I just flip through those and try to steal some ideas.
Which three famous artists (dead or alive) would you invite to your dinner party?
I mean, of course Van Gogh…I’m really inspired by Impressionism and Post-Impressionism, so I would invite Van Gogh, Monet, and Julie Dillon to a dinner party.
Have you ever wanted to dive into another medium before?
Yeah, actually, I currently am! I’m trying to do more traditional painting. I used to do a lot of acrylics, but I haven’t done it in years, and now I’m kind of bad at it. I’m trying to get into actual impressionistic art with oils and oil pastels. I’m like failing, but you know, you get there. Just fail until it looks presentable.
If there is one thing you want your audience to remember about your work, what would it be?
I guess it’s more of a feeling. I create art because I’m inspired by things around me, like certain video games. For example, I have been inspired by a Japanese RPG called Chrono Cross on PlayStation 1. They make me feel a certain type of inspiration to create something, so that’s kind of like what I’m hoping to leave behind.
Have any of your projects surprised you with their outcome?
Yeah! I did this Weapon Faerie series where I took three prompts: a weapon, a winged insect, and an herb, which I combined to make different characters. So, a faerie with a spiked club or a butterfly faerie with a katana. I made 13 of those, and they kind of took off! I wasn’t expecting that at all.
What is the hardest part of your process?
My whole art style is coloring, like the way it’s colored… but I hate the coloring process, haha. I like doing the color combos, but I don’t like the blending and shading. That takes like one-trillion years. It’s the part where I’m most likely to give up. You know how art kind of looks ugly before it looks good? I’m trying to trust that process.
What do you wish you knew when you started creating art that you know now?
I guess one big thing would be knowing how to use lights and darks. When I do color, it is definitely colorful, but when you switch it to black and white, you see that everything’s the same tone of gray. I’ve learned that if you just use some brighter colors and some darker shades, you create a bigger impact in the end. So, now, when I paint something digital, I make it black and white for a moment to see where all the hues are, and if something is weirdly dark or not dark enough, I can change it.
Who on Tumblr inspires you and why?
Oh, @feefal definitely inspires me. She does a lot of spooky art.
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FOR ALL TIME, ALWAYS – Loki x female reader
Summary: Loki escapes the TVA for a moment. Desperate and brokenhearted, he looks for you, his wife, in the Sacred Timeline. Even if you saw him die ten years ago.
Word count: 3.9k.
Warnings: LOTS of angst, some fluff, spoilers of Loki series in general. Language. Maybe I'm not getting how the branches work oops. This is right after the end of 2x02 and before 2x03. My English is also a warning, just in case.
Notes: while looking on the tags I checked a post of someone asking for a TVA Loki fic where he finds the reader but her Loki died in IW (not canon in my head btw). So I wrote it because is such a great idea, but I can't find the original post... ;-; anyway hope you like this!
☕ if you like my writing, support me with a ko-fi !
GEN MASTERLIST!
It's harder to stay...
Wasn't this situation hard enough? Sylvie was right. She had a point. But Loki wanted to do the right thing. Maybe he would find a chance... Again, right? Probably he would make the proper decisions this time.
The TVA was already fucked up, and with it, the thousands of timelines and lives in danger within them. Sometimes, it looked like it didn't matter. In the end, they were trying to fix something that was already broken.
Loki let out a deep breath he didn't realise was holding and walked to talk directly to his partner, Mobius.
"I need a favor," Loki mumbled, so the grey-haired man would be the only person to hear his voice.
Mobius met his eyes. He knew that gaze, it meant he was up to something. "What kind of favor?"
The god motioned Mobius to step away from the newly acknowledged variants and far away from what B-15 was witnessing. The branches were pruned from the whole existence; thousands and millions of lifes lost to the void in just the blink of an eye. Loki knew he had to do something before it got worst. Something for himself.
"I need to go the Sacred Timeline," Loki announced.
"Are you nuts?" Mobius scolded, in the same low voice tone Loki had used.
"Is just- listen, it's something I have to do. I really need to go back there. Need to see someone, make sure everything is okay," Loki insisted.
During all the times Loki showed he was desperate, Mobius was sure this was the peak of all of them. He wasn't explaning more than necessary, he looked serious, and his voice was crisp. Loki knew what he wanted at that moment. Mobius sighed, his hands finding the pockets of his pants, unsure of Loki's request.
"So it's personal..."
"A little, yeah," Loki nodded.
"Promise it'll be quick," Mobius said, taking off the TemPad from his pocket and his hand stopped in the air before the object could lay in the god's grip. "Don't make me regret this."
"I won't."
2029, Sacred Timeline
When Loki arrived to his destination, the nerves got the best from him. New York looked no different from the last time he was there. Shifting his usual clothes he wore at the TVA, he chose a plain suit to go undercover, or at least decided he would try to, considering he was a criminal once in Midgard.
But as he walked through the halls of the familiar building he met decades ago, he didn't really care. He longed for something else. Better say, someone. And it was you.
You, who met him in the past right after Thor's banishment, and even helped him to find the Teseract, only to give up to SHIELD and those idiots that people called 'The Avengers'. Of course his heart hurted for a long time, but Loki tried to deny the feelings blooming inside and instead, he just decided to walk away from you, even if that meant hurting you. It was the best.
At least that was what he believed until he checked further his file; the file that Mobius had prepared for him. His life. Even after what he did to your people and planet, you still held no grudges. And Thor was good enough to seek for yours and the sorcerer's, Stephen Strange, help once Hela appeared in their lives.
Loki would never forget the loving look in your beautiful eyes when you saw him again, after years of parting ways. He really paid attention to you while watching his file, and he found there was only love, protection, and care in you. All for him. Someone who didn't deserve it, he thought.
He felt grateful at least he had the pleasure to enjoy happiness for a moment. Even if that meant Asgard was destroyed. Loki already lost his mother, his father, and he almost lost his brother. He couldn't stand losing you either. The simple idea of living without you - even if he didn't know you further than your Loki did - was unbearable pain.
So while in the ship on the way to Midgard with the asgardians and survivors of the Ragnarok, you held a cozy, small wedding when he asked you to marry him. This was one of the parts Loki would replay again and again from his file, with disbelief that he was actually happy and joyful, enjoying a good time with you, his brother, and all the asgardians who survived. Loki felt full of hope after your wedding, thinking fate had better things to come with you as an oficial part of his life.
Unfortunately, it didn't last long, thanks to the Mad Titan. As his steps got near your door, the memory of his brother and your figure mourning on his lifeless body appeared on his mind. It was an image he couldn't erase that easily. Probably, he would never forget that was his original destiny all the way. That was meant to be. And for now, he could not change it.
Loki stopped outside your apartment. He took a deep breath and raised his shaking hand to reach the doorbell. He waited for a moment, not knowing if seconds or minutes went by, it felt eternal. Until the door opened and he saw you.
The bright smile you had on your lips faded away. Your eyes flooded with tears, your forehead was furrowed, and still, Loki thought you were the most beautiful creature in all the Nine Realms.
"Hi..." Loki barely whispered, his eyes were glossy and a single tear also ran down his pale cheek.
You were clearly in shock. You wanted to get closer and finally touch him, to feel him physically. But even if you wanted to move to take his hand to confirm it wasn't a trick of your ruined mind, your body was stiff and your feet were glued to the ground.
"Is this an illusion?" you trembled.
All Loki could do was shaking his head, before muttering. "No..."
"Loki, I saw you die..."
Tears ran down your face, denying to yourself that this was real. That this was really happening to you. And your mind started to wonder all the possible scenarios and reasons on why him, the god of mischief, the only person you loved dearly with all your mind, body and soul, was standing right in front of your door even if he was gone for you... Long gone now. And that couldn't be undone.
"I know you did, my love."
You tried to smile, even a little bit, as he pronounced those words so dearly. Loki came closer to your figure, carefully placing a trembling hand on your cheek, feeling the tears flowing on your skin. You leaned into his touch, with a simpering smile. Such was the effect you had on him, that a silly smile he also had on his lips.
And you realized Loki was so real... His touch, his heat, his smile, his scent, the way he would hold you... Everything about him was exactly as you remembered. You felt his lips brushing softly against yours, gentle and hesitant, and instantly, you melted into a slow kiss, sure knowing that Loki would taste the salt of your tears running down your face. Leaning in closer as the space between would allow you, you savoured each second your breaths allowed, longing to remain right there for eternity. For all time. Always.
"But now I am here... and I can explain," he whispered once you separated your lips from his in the sweetest way.
You let out a soft chuckle. "Mind to enlighten me, oh, god of mischief?"
Finally you guided him inside your apartment. That old apartment Loki saw his other self visiting a couple of times before you were something. It still had your vibe around it and he loved it. He felt like he was at home after a very long time. Once you closed the door, his arms wrapped around your figure, and you let yourself cry, pressing against his chest and with a tight grip of your hands on his coat.
"You don't have any idea of how much I have missed you all these years," you sobbed and his heart shrank on his chest. "I kept wishing every night and every day to be me instead of you."
"My love," he said softly, separating a little and cupping your cheeks with his warm hands. His eyes were red now because of the tears he was holding back again. "Don't say that... It was supposed to happen."
"What?" you mumbled.
Your hands found his wrists and you pulled his palms away from your cheeks. However you kept the contact with him, you just needed to touch him, to feel he was in the flesh. He was alive right now, wasn't he?
"Look, I am not your Loki. I know what you did, what the Avengers did after Thanos-" his voice broke just a bit but he continued. "I know everything. I just couldn't resist knowing there was someone for me, out there in the Nine Realms, capable to love me for who I am," Loki explained as he watched your face. Was it disappointment? Confusion? He didn't know, but he had to tell you the truth.
Your voice came out as a barely audible whisper. "So... you are saying... you're another Loki? Another him?"
He nodded softly. "I am." Loki thought for a moment on how to explain everything, but he just went for what his heart felt it was right. "It's a little complicated. I did something that wasn't supposed to be, and perhaps will sound like I'm insane, but thanks to that I am kind of trapped in time. With an organization that is not what everyone thought it was, hence a multiverse was created. Sponsored by another me, by the way. You are in what is called the Sacred Timeline, where things flow as how they were supposed to since forever. And I just needed to see you after I found out you were the love of my life."
You took a moment to understand everything he said, wishing that his fate would have been different from what originally happened. Loki gave his best, even in the last worst moments, he was changing for good. For you. For Thor... It wasn't fair.
"Your death was supposed to be then?"
"Yes, it was."
"Oh, Loki," you cried. "You know what, I don't care what's happened. I'm just- I feel happy seeing you here... Please tell me everything you've been through. I want to hear your voice again, to know you're with me right now, to feel you near... I'm not crazy, am I?" you chuckled between tears and Loki curved his lips in a smile, wiping your tears from your face with his thumbs.
Loki granted your wish and explained everything, answering every question you had about the lies of the TVA; the files he found out were his whole life; about Sylvie, Mobius and his variants. He spilled all you wanted to hear, asking like a child, until you understood what was happening. You noticed he truly had changed, just like your Loki did when he reunited with Thor before the Ragnarok took over Asgard. It was a bittersweet feeling however, thinking how much they they seemed to each other. They were the same person after all, but this Loki didn't had the chance to continue his path as it was supposed to.
Taking his hand into yours, you leaned towards him and laid down your head on his shoulder while you both sat comfortable in the couch, just enjoying each others company. Your eyes were dry at this point after crying for what it felt were hours, but his voice helped to soothe you enough.
"I'm glad knowing you have someone like Mobius by your side," you said after a quiet moment. "He sounds like a very good friend," you looked at him, waiting for an answer. "Because that's what he is to you, right?"
"He is a great friend, I'm not alone if that is what is troubling you," Loki affirmed.
You let out a sigh. "That is totally a relief to me."
Loki chuckled softly, leaning to leave a kiss on your hair. "Now you've heard everything about me, would I hear something from you?"
"I'm just a mortal, Loki," you smiled. "Doing the normal shit, not the superhero stuff anymore. I am hating my pretty much normal office job every day; I feed the birds when I go outside at the park, also thinking about adopting a cat or a dog... Maybe a dog."
"Or you could do both."
"Yeah, I might. But my place isn't that big for pets. Sometimes I feel like I'm too alone, very much alone... I would love to have a big farm, or a cabin in the mountains with lots of plants, pets and animals to take care of." The idea did sound good for Loki. Hopefuly you could find peace that way. "Do you remember Pepper?" you said, straighting up on the couch to look at him. He nodded. "Well, after Tony died I still visit her and their daughter, Morgan. She is ten years old, could you believe it?" Loki noticed the sorrow and pain you still carried after all those years of losing your friends, your people... "And I've been missing you and mourning you for ten years as well."
"It's not your fault."
"I know, Loki."
"Do whatever is the best for you, my dear... I would have loved to be here with you now, as the Loki from the Sacred Timeline."
You smiled, but it was a sad smile. "Well, either way, you're here now. It's all that matters to me."
Once again, you shared a loving kiss and took his hand to walk to the kitchen, asking him to take a seat in your breakfast bar, glad he decided to search for you in one of your free days. Otherwise, you would have surely missed his visit. But he was looking for you. Probably Loki would have found you anywhere at this point.
You talked some more while you had some tea and ate some cookies that you saved for special days on the shelfs. The afternoon was pleasant, and this was your turn to speak. Loki, coat long gone, was catching up with you and he asked every single thing about your life now. He smiled more than ever, laughed more than you have ever seen, and it was certainly something you could get used to from now on. Knowing you never continued your life with another person made his heart ache though. However, Loki was no one to blame. He would have done the same thing. No other was like you, no one would have replaced you.
"It's my decision," you finally said, reading his face like an open book. "I have loved you, I love you now and I will love you forever."
He took your hand, lacing your fingers with his. "I know..."
"The day we married you gave me a ring. I always have it with me, today I'm not working, but I use this necklace with your ring," you searched for the necklace hiding inside your shirt and taking it off, you showed him the precious jewel hanging on a fine golden chain. The ring he recognized once was from his mother. "I want you to have it."
"No,I can't-"
"But this is what I want. I know I would have to forget, because you will make me forget about this. About you, coming here, risking everything just to see me. So please, take it."
Loki knew you had made a decision, but then if he left, taking your memories away about this day, what was left for you? He had nothing, and it was okay. He would still know he came to the Sacred Timeline; that he kissed you, that you shared a moment together, that you still loved him. But you will have none of that. And you, as human as you were, would die without the memories and without the ring. You would have nothing and he was sure couldn't bear it.
"Perhaps I can have something else to remember you, I want you to keep this ring as a promise," he closed your hand around the necklace. "My promise that I still love you and I will do it. Forever."
And you sighed, taking the necklace back with a smile. Always so stubborn. "Give me a moment."
Loki saw you leave the kitchen for some minutes. While he was alone, he noticed the sunset through the windows, as it was almost ending to welcome the dark sky around the city. He knew he had to go soon. As much as he didn't want to and the simple thought of runing away was starting to hurt him deep inside.
When you arrived, you stood by his seat on the breakfast bar, putting a small photograph, perfect for a passport, on the surface. It was all in black and white, and you looked what you thought it was nice. Loki took it between his hands, lovingly and with a proud smile on his face.
"I used that when I was taking my Master's degree. Looks pretty decent," you joked.
Loki laughed, tears right at the corner of his eyes. "It's more than that. It's perfect."
His smile faded, knowing this meant he had to leave you again. Loki wasn't supposed to have a happy ending, was he? How he wished to stay there by your side.
You kissed his cheek as a sort of goodbye and comfort at the same time, noticing the sudden change on his face and whispered softly. "So you don't search for me on those files."
"Thank you, love."
Loki got on his feet to put his coat on, like some sort of mental preparation before leaving your apartment and the Sacred Timeline. He saved your photograph on his pocket securely along with Mobius' TemPad, pretending to be strong and swallowing all the pain he was feeling right at that moment. You took his hand, lacing your fingers together one last time and walked until you stood there, in the middle of your living room. He looked at you with loving eyes, trying to save your face and your figure before returning to where he was supposed to be now. And it seemed like time had stopped, as everything Loki could see and feel was you and only you.
"I guess is time now," you began, interrupting his mind.
"I guess it is," Loki nodded, expecting an answer from you. Anything. But it never came. You were also trying to save the moment as much as you could.
So he cupped your cheeks, feeling for the last time your warm, soft skin against his palms. He didn't want to talk, because if he would have said something, it meant you were really saying goodbye forever. What Loki didn't know is that you felt the same thing.
Was there something good to say to your lover, whose destiny was just to bring the best from other people with his cruelty and chaos? To the man who had learn to make things better and, in the end, died trying to protect his people and his wife? Was there anything out there that would bring the god of mischief the happiness and love you always knew he deserved? With these branches and multiverse thing, you hoped deep in your heart there was a universe where he found what he longed for so long. This was just one of many of them. Probably he was happy and living in peace in some others.
"I love you, Loki," you mumbled. He caressed your skin with his thumbs and wiped the small tears that were running on your cheeks.
"I love you too."
Loki leaned to kiss you one last time. You welcomed the kiss with shut eyes, savouring his lips and the taste of your tears, mixing now with his own.
The pain started to bloom; every heartbeat felt like a sledgehammer pounding against his chest. He was not ready to let you go, so this was all he could do. The seidr flowed from his fingers, the green lights covering your body with the help of the spell he casted for you was made to protect you from anything that could get out of hand in the Sacred Timeline, particularly from his own hands, the hands of the TVA, or any other danger that could chase you. Because if something would happen to you due to his stubborn decision, Loki knew he wouldn't forgive himself. What he was sure about though, was that he would still look for you until the end of time.
So when the kiss ended, you fell asleep in seconds. He had to take your sleeping figure with his arms to your bedroom, where he carefully laid you down on the bed. Making sure you were comfortable in your sleep, fixing the pillows and the blankets, Loki remained there, just to take in the serenity emanating from you. It was something you had, the ease and calm your aura projected to everyone in the room. This was the last thing Loki wanted to save from you.
He kissed your forehead and dried the tears on your face before standing up. Once you were to wake up in some hours, you would not be able to know everything was real. Loki made sure you thought it was a dream. So that is what you would have in your head. Something you wished for so long that will only be nothing but thoughts, scenes and emotions that felt absolutely true. As real as life could be.
Loki took the TemPad and opened the timedoor to go back to the TVA, where he knew Mobius would be waiting already since he left for hours. Without looking back to your room, he stepped in and forced to compose himself just in case he would bump into someone else. He sighed, observing through the halls of the headquaters as he made his way back to the room that was assigned to him.
At his door, a worried Mobius was already waiting for him, walking in circles.
"God, Loki I thought you were gone for a second," the analyst breathed out. Loki just handed the TemPad and Mobius took it back. He noticed his weary demeanor and teary eyes. "Thank you. Sorry I doubted you for a second."
"It's fine," Loki shrugged it off, looking for something on his pocket. The photograph slipped from his fingers and fell down to the floor. Mobius was quick enough to pick it up for him, but as he gave it back to his owner he observed it thoroughly.
"So this was the personal thing you did," Mobius said, looking the photograph resting on Loki's hand. He remembered that face from his files.
"Yeah... I guess all set now," Loki sighed.
"Good, I hope you're ready for another trip to the Sacred Timeline." Mobius turned to walk away, deciding it was better to give him some time, but he turned back to Loki before doing so. "And if you're feeling like talking about this any day, only between us, just let me know."
And with that, he walked away. Loki smiled, standing alone outside his door.
You were right. Mobius was a good friend.
#loki x reader#loki x female reader#tva loki x reader#tva loki x female reader#tva!loki x reader#loki imagines#loki angst#loki laufesyon x reader#loki series fanfiction#loki season 2#mcu loki x reader#mcu loki#loki series
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when we begin again
ao3 ⋆ main masterlist ⋆ series masterlist
pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader
rating: Explicit (18+ only!)
warnings: dub-con (reader was paying a debt, less so now), oral (f receiving), fingering, masturbation, thigh slaps (three small ones), small description of a hand injury, cumplay/cumshot/cum marking, praise kink, maybe Joel has a bit of a pain kink idk, possessive slutty Joel, derogatory names ("whore"), drug reference, unspecified age gap
word count: 4.1k
summary: He wasn't one to lick his wounds, but after a deal gone wrong Joel finds something he'd much rather put his mouth on.
A/N: and here we be, the first of the SWAT oneshots that serves as a sort of bridge between the main series and the few ideas I have brewing and ready to go.
This is a whole re-write in less than 24 hours because the original fic I was almost finished with felt too me and not enough SWAT. no one needs sad girl monologuing about life and death and grief with their porn. you're welcome.
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"Hrrrmph!"
Joel's lips crash into yours the moment you step inside. One moment he's running an anxious hand through his graying hair, and the next he's making quick work of the space between you, striding across the floor to grab you and plant his lips firmly on yours.
It's not what you'd come here for, funnily enough. You wanted to talk and, glorious as it was to have your lips against his, you couldn't talk like this.
Wretching yourself away is stupid. After everything you know it's stupid, yet you do it anyway.
"Joel -"
Cupping your head in his hands his lips find yours again before you can get another word out, teeth knocking together as he licks into your mouth, and you briefly lose yourself, turning to putty in his arms, ready to sculpt into whatever he sees fit that day. Before the bonelessness takes hold completely, you pull back once more.
Searching his face you look for the sudden need, the sudden rush, the desire to kiss you and have your face in his hands that hadn't been there any other time until now. You see nothing, his dark eyes refusing to meet yours as his hands find themselves at the front of your pants, deftly unbuttoning them before you can even question him. Before he can unzip them, your hands find his, holding him gently in place.
Joel freezes, hands stilling on your zipper, and he pulls a small, sharp breath of air in through his nose as if you hurt him, wounded him by daring to slow him down.
"You want me to stop?" he growls.
"No, I just -"
"Then quit your complainin'."
You do. Briefly. Until the zip snags as he pulls on it again and he curses in frustration.
"Let me do it." Until last time, which wasn't really like any other time, he'd always asked you to strip yourself, made you strip in front of him before he touched out. His clumsy hands on your clothes felt alien, and as it was he was being too slow, even in his desperation.
"You not want me to touch you or somethin'?" he snaps, frowning down at your pants now as he fiddles with the zipper, trying to get it to budge.
"I never said that."
"Then quit your fuckin' complainin'."
And this time you really do when you finally see the tremble in his hands and the blood on his knuckles, and it occurs to you that maybe you did hurt him, that grabbing his hand to stop his frantic movement caused him pain.
Joel hadn't been in a rush before you got here. He'd been the opposite, pacing the floor, willing himself to slow down, calm down. And it had been working - each turn he could feel himself relaxing, all the pent up energy from a deal gone to absolute shit steadily leaving his bones. But your delicate knock on the door had sent his blood boiling in a different way. He'd fought with himself to ignore it, to tell you through the door to fuck off for another day, but the idea of something warm and wet and compliant to soothe his aches and pains was too enticing to pass up. Making you in particular moan and writhe and give in to him was even more impossible to let go. In the end, the door had practically let you in all on its own.
So when his hands pull at your zipper again, yanking it in frustration, you will it down, beg with your mind for it to not snag again, and you sigh with relief when it doesn't.
In one fluid movement your pants are unceremoniously pulled to your knees, and Joel is crowding you back against his dining table, rough and aching hands on your hips to guide you. Your exposed ass collides with the solid wood, and he's pressing into you, the hardening lump in the front of his jeans poking into the softness of your belly. You can feel the frustration in him and how it twitches through his fingertips, swells in his cock, and each time you feel how the need wins out over frustration as he grinds into you, latching him onto you as his veins hunt for some kind of relief.
Another yank of your jeans and he's pulled them to your ankles, stepping on them as he pushes you to sit on the table. Your jeans stay behind, dragging your shoes from your feet with a dull thud, and Joel kicks them away. Winters in Boston are bitter, none moreso than this one, and your frozen ass barely registers the feeling of the wooden surface as you sit on it, still kitted out in your hat, coat and gloves. When you move to pull them off his hand pushes between your breasts, knocking you back onto the table. A second later there's a harsh scrape of a chair across the floor and, just as you manage to tug one glove off, he's yanking you down the table toward him.
You sit up and look down where he sits between your legs, enraptured by the softness of your skin beneath hands that glide up and down your thighs, gripping and squeezing the soft flesh more gently than the wounds on his knuckles suggest he's capable of. He's holding off, you realize then as you watch his hands, trying to slow himself from taking what he needs.
Tossing your hat to the side you lift your hips, shimmying your panties down just enough for Joel's fingers to work them down the rest of the way. Sitting back in his chair he looks between your legs, and you know that he can see what you've been feeling since you stepped onto his street. By this point, the response was Pavlovian. Each step closer to Joel's apartment you could feel yourself getting wetter and wetter, your cheeks feeling hotter and hotter. You wonder if one day he'd stop having this affect on you, or if he'd stop responding to it exactly how you knew he would, but with a knowing quirk in his brow, you know that day is not today.
"Fuck me, sweetheart. You sure no one else been down here today?"
Shaking your head, you manage one more look at him before he's pulling your legs up, hooking them over his shoulders and diving into your slick folds with a firm lick.
"N-no," you gasp, bucking slightly into his face with your legs spread over his broad shoulders. He should know that you haven't, that you wouldn't, but you think he just needs to hear the confirmation, needs to know that this thing in front of him right now is just his for the taking, and so you let him have it. "Haven't even touched myself today."
He moans into your cunt, cold nose pressing into the softness of your mound as his tongue laps and laves you. With a slurp, having cleaned up the arousal that had leaked out of you on your way here, he looks up at you, ticking his head to the side and nodding down to your bare pussy. "Well, shit, looks like all o' this is just for me, huh?"
There's no air left in your lungs for you to respond when his tongue circles your clit and makes you groan into the cold air. Whatever he needs, if this is how he was going to take it, you were damn well going to let him take everything you had.
And so, pinning you to the table he begins to devour your cunt, licking messily all over you, coating you in his saliva. He pulls you open with his arms hooked over your thighs, spreading your lips further for him. The chill hits you for just one second when you're fully spread to the cold air, but his mouth soon descends on you and all you can see are his eyes and the curve of his nose, his mouth hidden as he buries it into you.
You shuffle your jacket off, the room suddenly feeling much warmer than when you first entered it, and earn yourself a small slap to your thigh, making you squeak out a yelp of surprise, when Joel's mouth involuntarily pulls from your cunt.
"You gonna keep still? Or you gonna keep fuckin' wrigglin'?"
You shift again, biting your cheek as you test him. Channelling his energy into eating your cunt is working wonders for him and he seems calmer already, but that doesn't stop him lightly slapping your thigh again, shooting a warning look up at you.
"Got a way to keep you still if you can't fuckin' do it by yourself, sweetheart," he warns and, as if sensing you're about to test him again, he unhooks one arm from you and pushes a finger straight into your wet heat.
You moan, gasping again when he sucks your clit for good measure.
"Huh?" He's coaxing you, trying to get you to wiggle again and earn yourself another surprise. Not one to push your luck you simply moan, letting your back arch slightly when he begins to move his finger inside you. "What was that?"
"Fu-nothing. Just - fuck - so good."
You mind is liquid, seeping out of your ears and making a mess of your jacket when he licks you again, dancing the tip of two fingers around your entrance before sliding both into you. If it hurts him, he doesn't let on, but you can tell it does something to him by the groan he makes into your cunt as his fingers curl in you, making your walls clamp and twitch around his fingers.
"That's it," he murmurs. "Like gettin' this pussy ate, don't you?"
"Mm."
"Thought so. Needy fuckin' pussy. Not just your mouth that wants to be kissed is it, she needs it too?"
"Oh god, yes please, she needs it too."
And you can feel it, the moment he switches from eating your cunt to kissing it. You know the shapes, the trails he kisses, the way his tongue dances. You'd committed it to memory the past week, made yourself come at the thought of his mouth, the scratch of his beard, the feel of him beneath your fingertips, touching him as much as he was touching you. His mouth and the memory work together then, bringing you so impossibly close to coming you can feel as your moans leave you more high pitched, how you push into him, chasing and chasing that feeling that's right there -
"See," he says, stopping your orgasm in it's tracks when he pulls back, a knowing smile on his face. He pushes another finger into you too, watching as your legs twitch open wider to take him, the rim of your pussy spreading across his fingers with slicked up ease. "Don't even gotta stuff your mouth, just gotta keep this thing right here stuffed and suddenly you're actin' all nice and polite."
There's a brief hope in you that he'll go for a fourth finger, stretch you out across his sore knuckles and ready you for his hard cock, but the hope fizzles away, cast to the side and forgotten, the second his mouth joins his hand back between your thighs.
You're almost there again already, the crest of the orgasm he stole from you a moment ago barely behind you. His tongue laps rhythmically, never ceasing, and his breaths come in heavy, fanning across your folds as he feasts on you, fingers pumping so deep you're sloshing around them. You're hot, so impossibly hot in spite of the cold. You want to shed more layers, bare yourself for him, but you're so close and he's getting you there fast, goading you on with each satisfied groan into your cunt.
"That's it," he mumbles into your twitching pussy. "Fuck that's it sweetheart, come on my fingers."
You can feel it build, Joel's mouth engulfing you and lapping at everything you have to give. The beginnings of your orgasm start to shudder through you, your legs stuttering with every flick of his tongue. Your back arches from the table, toes curling in thick socks as your heels press into his back, pushing him into you. And then it hits you.
The coil in your belly snaps, letting loose an orgasm that swamps all your senses. Held down by Joel's muscular arm and pinned by the fingers hooked in you, you buck into his mouth. Quivering thighs have clamped around his ears, attempting to draw up and pull back as you squirm in his firm grip. You're screaming too, you think, a breathy high pitched shout of his name that you just can't hold back, that gets shakier and shakier the longer it goes on.
And it does go on. Joel doesn't stop, determined to wring from you as much as he can. His fingers are locked inside of you, forced to stillness by the pulsing in your pussy. Still, he can flex them, curling his pruning fingertips into you while he tongues your clit, groaning with each twitch of it beneath his tongue. You know that sound, how it's gotten deeper and more desperate as he's devoured you. It's a sound that tells you he's hard, that he needs relief and will be desperate for it the second he pulls away from you. That thought only makes you come harder, and by the time your cunt has stopped its erratic pulsing around Joel's fingers and you've fallen limp, deaf, and winded against his table, he's already standing, pushing the chair back and letting it crash to the floor.
Dragging his fingers from you he pushes between your legs, pulling his jeans open as best he can, wincing when he rasps his knuckles on the fabric a little too harshly. You reach for him, wanting to help, wanting to be a relief for him like he is for you.
"Let me -"
But he knocks your hand away, tugging down his jeans a moment later, his cock springing free and knocking into your thigh before he can capture it in his fist. It's hot against you, burning and dripping, likely feeling as achey as his knuckles do.
You expect him to plunge into you immediately, to take advantage of the position between your thighs and your pussy still fluttering with want at the sight of him, but he doesn't. Instead you watch for a moment as he strokes himself, the bloody scrapes on his knuckles contrasting harshly with the smooth, solid plains of his cock.
"Your hand, Joel, I can -"
"Fuck, my hand," he growls, resting his unmarred hand on your though to hold you still.
Your legs fall open further, his touch light on your thigh barely applying any pressure to open you up for him. Still, he doesn't take the clear route in, and you're rocking forward trying to notch his tip on your entrance just as the rough scrape of his knuckles drags across your sensitive inner thigh.
"Please put it in me," you finally beg, needing to feel the deep stretch of his cock as it pierces you.
"Nuh-uh, sweetheart, you get what you're given and you be grateful. You gonna take it?"
"Yes," you say quickly, following on with a small, "Please."
He groans at your eagerness to please. Making a man like Joel desire you so much he can't help but moan, just with small words and gasps of your own, makes you feel a power you've never had before and your eyes just about roll back in your head.
"Use your hands, show me that hole," he demands, giving you a little space to reach down and spread yourself for him. Your pussy is leaking, still, you can feel the slick spread on your fingers as you spread yourself for him. "That's it, hold yourself open. Fuck she's still twitchin'. Fuuuck. That's it."
His strokes become longer, more fluid, as he stares at your aching, empty cunt. You still want him inside, would do anything to get him there, but the desire in his eyes tells you he's getting exactly what he wants right now, and you almost want that more.
Tilting his head back as he strokes his cock with pussy drenched fingers, his bruised knuckles rub against your cunt with every stroke. Holding yourself open is easy, but keeping your legs from snapping shut each time his fist rubs your clit feels almost impossible. As if noticing, Joel pulls back, looking down where your cunt is spread open for it.
"That's it, keep it open. Good girl."
You know you're glistening for him, he'd eaten you so fiercely his saliva had been dripping from you, mixing with your own slick as you came on his tongue. He can see the evidence of it now, and the evidence of what his words do to you at the tell tale twitch of your cunt at his praise.
You can't take it any more and you beg in desperation again. "Please put it in, please."
It does nothing but earn you another soft slap to your thigh, which he rubs, grabbing the meat of you and squeezing in his large hand as his cock twitches and drips in his damaged one.
"No," he grunts, breath coming in more ragged now. "Want you to fuckin' wear me. Know who's pussy this is?"
"Yours."
"Fuck," he hisses. "Yeah it is. Pussy's mine, sweetheart. Mine."
Gripping your thigh tighter he moves in closer again, his hand bumping your sensitive nub as he jerks so closely you slick up his knuckles, soothing the soreness and jerking your clit in tandem.
"Oh fuck, that's it, sweetheart. Keep it just like that, show me that pussy. Show me," he's saying, over and over as he watches you.
A second later he's looking up, staring straight into your eyes and pinning you there on the table with them. You nod, words stuck in your throat when all you want to scream is for him to come, to cover you in it, to claim your pussy just like he needs, just like you want.
The sneer on his lips tells you he wants it too, and before you know it his tip is pressing firmly to your clit, jerking it with every frantic movement of his fist, his hips thrusting minutely into it like he can't control it, can't hold it back any more. And neither can you. The pressure and the movement on your clit is too much and you're coming again, so soon after the first it brings tears to your eyes.
"Ohhh, f-Joel, pleasecomeonme."
Looking down where he's pressed to you, he hisses a breath in through his teeth, holding it for just one second until it pushes out of him with a deep, shakey moan, cum exploding out of his tip and coating your folds, dripping through you until the last spurt coats your mound and he's left breathless.
You flop onto the table, grateful for the padding your coat offers your bones as you collapse into the wood. He's leaning over you, finally releasing his grip on your thigh and running a thumb across his mouth, cock still in his aching fist. Using the oversensitive tip, he smears the cum into your bare cunt and the insides of your thighs, catching your eyes just in time to watch them turn from glassy to rattling in your head, your mouth in a small O when he jerks your clit with his head, making you both gasp.
"You did say this pussy was mine," he says, letting a small wry smile tug at his cheeks. He pulls back then, letting go of his spent cock to run his fingers through your cum covered folds, scooping up a drop with his thumb.
Leaning leaning over you, he swipes his cum slicked thumb against your lips. You suck on it, tasting him, salty and bitter and sweet and Joel exploding on your tongue all at once. You want to thank him for it, but he pulls your mouth open with his thumb and pushes two fingers in, making you clean them with broad soothing strokes. You're careful not to catch him with your teeth, still aware of the wounds on his knuckles as you taste yourself off of his cum soaked fingers. If his hand looks like that, you wonder what the person on the receiving end looks like - the thought shouldn't make your cunt twitch, you know it shouldn't, that it's likely sick and twisted and wrong, but it does, and you moan around his fingers just has he pulls them from your mouth.
When your eyes flick to his lips, he smirks, knowing what you want without even asking. Cupping your face with his bruised, wet fingers, he makes you look at him, waits for the desperation in your eyes to ramp up to the point of frustration before he gives it to you.
Just a peck, that's all he gives, soft lips and the tickle of his facial hair so fleeting you could have blinked and missed it, before picking up the chair with a groan and settling back in it with a deep sigh, inspecting his wrinkled fingers. They'd spent so long buried in you the tips are starting to pucker, the ache that your warmth had soothed slowly crawling back down his knuckles.
Your mind is slowly pulling itself together, slowly crawling back into your ears and taking root in your skull again. Joel's eyes scan across you before finding something apparently considerably more interesting on the floor by his dining table.
"Where the fuck you shoppin' this late in the day?" he says with a frown, and you sit up, following his gaze to the floor.
Your pants are in a tangle, a sprawled mess on the floor with your shoes from where Joel had dragged them from your body and there, next to them in a messy pile, is a small stack of cards that you'd brought with you.
"Oh."
Right. You came here to talk to him, to renegotiate your arrangement, before Joel had needed more from you than a chat in that first moment through the door and pushed all thought of conversation from your mind. You clear your throat and square your shoulders, pushing away the last haze of orgasm and look back up at him. "I'm not. They're for you."
With a groan, he bends to pick them up, counting them as he stands and then raising them to you with a question on his lips.
"What're these for?"
"For the pills," you say, like it's obvious, like you hadn't been using your body as payment for months.
"I've already taken my payment," he says with a look to your cum coated cunt. "'n' if you wanna pay me for your daddies pills, you know it's more than this, right?"
"I can take 'em back if you don't want 'em. I just figured we can pay a bit now and, y'know... I wanna come here because I wanna come here, for me, not just for pills all the time." It sounded better when you rehearsed it in your head this morning, but coming out of your mouth now it sounds ridiculous.
He looks at you for a moment, taking you in, sat pantsless and dripping on his dining table.
"Y'know, there's a simpler solution to this than dumpin' cards on me without warnin', right?" If there is, you haven't thought of it. "Stop only comin' by when you need pills." Oh.
"If you want somethin' else, you know where I am. Now, if you don't wanna whore yourself for meds anymore, if you wanna be respectable, then that's fine. I'll take your cards. But I ain't takin' all of 'em. I'm keepin' these," he says raising a few cards up to you. "And you're takin' these," he pushes the remaining ones into your hand along with a small bag of pills he slips out of his pocket and you frown. You already weren't offering him enough.
"Now I get a nice respectable, good girl to fuck, and you get to pretend you're not a whore. Win-win."
"I'm not a whore," you insist, rolling your eyes, even though you know it's not exactly true.
Joel simply shrugs, shaking out your jeans and throwing them on the table next to you before placing his hand by your ass, thumb stroking delicately along the soft skin there, and leaning down toward you. He tilts your head up to face him, his nose catching yours as your eyes meet his.
"Whore or not, sweetheart," he smirks. "Pussy's still mine."
You weren't going to argue with him there.
taglist: @jupiter-soups @wannab-urs @bean-is-reading @not-a-unique-snowflake-blog @youandmeand5bucks-blog @bbyanarchist @vickywallace @kamcrazy123 @valkyreally @ashhlsstuff @a-literal-goblin @ariundercovers @iluvurfather @stevie75 @toxicanonymity @thesevi0lentdelights @sp00kymulderr
#joel miller x reader#joel miller fanfiction#joel miller smut#pedro pascal characters#joel miller/reader#joel miller x you#joel miller x f!reader#fic: SWAT#coveted fics
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The Radio Times magazine from the 29 July-04 August 2023 :)
THE SECOND COMING
How did Terry Pratchett and Neil gaiman overcome the small matter of Pratchett's death to make another series of their acclaimed divine comedy?
For all the dead authors in the world,” legendary comedy producer John Lloyd once said, “Terry Pratchett is the most alive.” And he’s right. Sir Terry is having an extremely busy 2023… for someone who died in 2015.
This week sees the release of Good Omens 2, the second series of Amazon’s fantasy comedy drama based on the cult novel Pratchett co-wrote with Neil Gaiman in the late 1980s. This will be followed in the autumn by a new spin-off book from Pratchett’s Discworld series, Tiffany Aching’s Guide to Being a Witch, co-written by Pratchett’s daughter Rhianna and children’s author Gabrielle Kent. The same month, we’ll also get A Stroke of the Pen, a collection of “lost” short stories written by Sir Terry for local newspapers in the 70s and 80s and recently rediscovered. Clearly, while there are no more books coming from Pratchett – a hard drive containing all drafts and unpublished work was crushed by a vintage steamroller shortly after the author’s death, as per his specific wishes – people still want to visit his vivid and addictive worlds in new ways.
Good Omens 2 will be the first test of how this can work. The original book started life as a 5,000-word short story by Gaiman, titled William the Antichrist and envisioned as a bit of a mashup of Richmal Crompton’s Just William books and the 70s horror classic The Omen. What would happen, Gaiman had mused, if the spawn of Satan had been raised, not by a powerful American diplomat, but by an extremely normal couple in an idyllic English village, far from the influence of hellish forces? He’d sent the first draft to bestselling fantasy author Pratchett, a friend of many years, and then forgotten about it as he busied himself with continuing to write his massively popular comic books, including Violent Cases, Black Orchid and The Sandman, which became a Netflix series last year.
Pratchett loved the idea, offering to either buy the concept from Gaiman or co-write it. It was, as Gaiman later said, “like Michelangelo phoning and asking if you want to paint a ceiling” The pair worked on the book together from that point on, rewriting each other as they went and communicating via long phone calls and mailed floppy discs. “The actual mechanics worked like this: I would do a bit, then Neil would take it away and do a bit more and give it back to me,” Pratchett told Locus magazine in 1991. “We’d mess about with each other’s bits and pieces.”
Good Omens: The Nice and Accurate Prophecies of Agnes Nutter, Witch – to give it its full title –was published in 1990 to huge acclaim. It was one of, astonishingly, five Terry Pratchett novels to be published that year (he averaged two a year, including 41 Discworld novels and many other standalone works and collaborations).
It was also, clearly, extremely filmable, and studios came knocking — though getting it made took a while. rnvo decades on from its writing, four years after Pratchett's death from Alzheimer's disease aged 66, and after several doomed attempts to get a movie version off the ground, Good Omens finally made it to TV screens in 2019, scripted and show-run by Gaiman himself. "Terry was egging me on to make it into television. He knew he was dying, and he knew that I wouldn't start it without him," Gaiman revealed in a 2019 Radio Times interview. Amazon and the BBC co-produced with Pratchett's company Narrativia and Gaiman's Blank Corporation production studios, with Michael Sheen and David Tennant cast in the central roles of Aziraphale the angel and Crowley the demon. The show was a hit, not just with fans of its two creators, but with a whole new young audience, many of whom had no interest in Discworld or Sandman. Social media networks like Tumblr and TikTok were soon awash with cosplay, artwork and fan fiction. The original novel became, for the first time, a New York Times bestseller.
A follow up was, on one level, a no-brainer. The world Pratchett and Gaiman had created was vivid, funny and accessible, and Tennant and Sheen had found an intriguing romantic spark in their chemistry not present in the novel.
There was, however, a huge problem. There wasn't a second Good Omens book to base it on. But there was the ghost of an idea.
In 1989, after the book had been sold but before it had come out, the two authors had laid on fivin beds in a hotel room at a convention in Seattle and, jet-lagged and unable to sleep, plotted out, in some detail, what would happen in a sequel, provisionally titled 668, The II Neighbour of the Beast.
"It was a good one, too" Gaiman wrote in a 2021 blog. "We fully intended to write it, whenever we next had three or four months free. Only I went to live in America and Terry stayed in the UK, and after Good Omens was published, Sandman became SANDMAN and Discworld became DISCWORLD(TM) and there wasn't a good time."
Back in 1991, Pratchett elaborated, "We even know some of the main characters in it. But there's a huge difference between sitting there chatting away, saying, 'Hey, we could do this, we could do that,' and actually physically getting down and doing it all again." In 2019, Gaiman pillaged some of those ideas for Good Omens series one (for example, its final episode wasn't in the book at all), and had left enough threads dangling to give him an opening for a sequel. This is the well he's returned to for Good Omens 2, co-writing with comic John Finnemore - drafted in, presumably, to plug the gap left Pratchett's unparalleled comedic mind. No small task.
Projects like Good Omens 2 are an important proving ground for Pratchett's legacy: can the universes he conjured endure without their creator? And can they stay true to his spirit? Sir Terry was famously protective of his creations, and there have been remarkably few adaptations of his work considering how prolific he was. "What would be in it for me?" he asked in 2003. "Money? I've got money."
He wanted his work treated reverently and not butchered for the screen. It's why Good Omens and projects like Tiffany Aching's Guide to Being a Witch are made with trusted members of the inner circle like Neil Gaiman and Rhianna Pratchett at the helm. It's also why the author's estate, run by Pratchett's former assistant and business manager Rob Wilkins, keeps a tight rein on any licensed Pratchett material — it's a multi-million dollar media empire still run like a cottage industry.
And that's heartening. Anyone who saw BBC America's panned 2021 Pratchett adaptation The Watch will know how badly these things can go when a studio is allowed to run amok with the material without oversight. These stories deserve to be told, and these worlds deserve to be explored — properly. And there are, apparently, many plans afoot for more Pratchett on the screen. You can only hope that, somewhere, he'll be proud of the results.
After all, as he wrote himself, "No one is finally dead until the ripples they cause in the world die away, until the clock wound up winds down, until the wine she made has finished its ferment, until the crop they planted is harvested. The span of someone's life is only the core of their actual existence."
While those ripples continue to spread, Sir Terry Pratchett remains very much alive. MARC BURROWS
DIVINE DUO
An angel and a demon walk into a pub... Michael Sheen and David Tennant on family, friendship and Morecambe & Wise
Outside it's cold winter's day and we're in a Scottish studio, somewhere between Edinburgh and Glasgow. But inside it's lunchtime in The Dirty Donkey pub in the heart of London, with both Michael Sheen and David Tennant surveying the scene appreciatively. "This is a great pub," says Sheen eagerly, while Tennant calls it "the best Soho there can be. A slightly heightened, immaculate, perfect, dreamy Soho."
Here, a painting of the absent landlord — the late Terry Pratchett, co-creator, with Neil Gaiman, of the series' source novel — looms over punters. Around the corner is AZ Fell and Co Antiquarian and Unusual Books. It's the bookshop owned by Sheen's character, the angel Aziraphale, and the place to where Tennant's demon Crowley is inevitably drawn.
It's day 74 of an 80-day shoot for a series that no one, least of all the leading actors, ever thought would happen, due to the fact that Pratchett and Gaiman hadn't ever published any sequel to their 1990 fantasy satire. Tennant explains, "What we didn't know was that Neil and Terry had had plots and plans..."
Still, lots of good things are in Good Omens 2, which expands on the millennia-spanning multiverse of the first series. These include a surprisingly naked side of John Hamm, and roles for both Tennant's father-in-law (Peter Davison) and 21-year-old son Ty. At its heart, though, remains the brilliant banter between the two leading men — as Sheen puts it, "very Eric and Ernie !" — whose chemistry on the first series led to one of the more surprising saviours of lockdown telly.
Good Omens is back — but you've worked together a lot in the meantime. Was there a connective tissue between series one of Good Omens and Staged, your lockdown sitcom?
David: Only in as much as the first series went out, then a few months later, we were all locked in our houses. And because of the work we'd done on Good Omens, it occurred that we might do something else. I mean, Neil Gaiman takes full responsibility for Staged. Which, to some extent, he's probably right to do!
Michael: We've got to know each other through doing this. Our lives have gotten more entwined in all kinds of ways — we have children who've now become friends, and our families know each other.
There have been hints of a romantic storyline between the two characters. How much of an undercurrent is that in this series.
David: Nothing's explicit.
Michael: I felt from the very beginning that part of what would be interesting to explore is that Aziraphale is a character, a being, who just loves. How does that manifest itself in a very specific relationship with another being? Inevitably, as there is with everything in this story, there's a grey area. The fact that people see potentially a "romantic relationship", I thought that was interesting and something to explore.
There was a petition to have the first series banned because of its irreverent take on Christian tropes. Series two digs even more deeply into the Bible with the story of Job. How much of a badge of honour is it that the show riles the people who like to ban things?
David: It's not an irreligious show at all. It's actually very respectful of the structure of that sort of religious belief. The idea that it promotes Satanism [is nonsense]. None of the characters from hell are to be aspired to at all! They're a dreadful bunch of non-entities. People are very keen to be offended, aren't they? They're often looking for something to glom on to without possibly really examining what they think they're complaining about.
Michael, you're known as an activist, and you're in the middle of Making BBC drama The Way, which "taps into the social and political chaos of today's world". Is it important for you to use your plaform to discuss causes you believe in?
Michael: The Way is not a political tract, it's just set in the area that I come from. But it has to matter to you, doesn't it? More and more as I get older, [I find] it can be a real slog doing this stuff. You've got to enjoy it. And if it doesn't matter to you, then it's just going to be depressing.
David, Michael has declared himself a "not-for-profit" actor. Has he tried to persuade you to give up all your money too?
David: What an extraordinary question! One is always aware that one has a certain responsibility if one is fortunate and gets to do a job that often doesn't feel like a job. You want to do your bit whenever you can. But at the same time, I'm an actor. I'm not about to give that up to go into politics or anything. But I'll do what I can from where I live.
Well, your son and your father-in-law are also starring in this series. How about that, jobs for the boys!
David: I know! It was a delight to get to be on set with them. And certainly an unexpected one for me. Neil, on two occasions, got to bowl up to me and say, "Guess who we've cast?!"
How do you feel about your US peers going on strike?
David: It's happening because there are issues that need to be addressed. Nobody's doing this lightly. These are important issues, and they've got to be sorted out for the future of our industry. There's this idea that writers and actors are all living high on the hog. For huge swathes of our industry, that's just not the case. These people have got to be protected.
Michael: We have to be really careful that things don't slide back to the way they were pre the 1950s, when the stories that we told were all coming from one point of view and the stories of certain people, or communities within our society, weren't represented. There's a sense that now that's changed for ever and it'll never go back. But you worry when people can't afford to have the opportunities that other people have. We don't want the story that we tell about ourselves to be myopic. You want it to be as inclusive as possible
Staged series 3 recently broadcast. It felt like the show's last hurrah — or is there more mileage? Sheen and Tennant go on holiday?
David: That's the Christmas special! One Foot in the Algarve! On the Buses Go to Spain!
Michael: I don't think we were thinking beyond three, were we?
So is it time for a conscious uncoupling for you two — Eric and Ernie say goodbye?
David: Oh, never say never, will we?
Michael: And it's more Hinge and Bracket.
David: Maybe that's what we do next — The Hinge and Bracket Story. CRAIG McLEAN
#good omens#gos2#season 2#radio times#radio times 2023#interview#magazines#neil gaiman#terry pratchett#david tennant#michael sheen#david interview#michael interview#neil interview#terry interview#bts#fun fact#staged#the way#s2 interview#transcripts
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You know how it goes: through some incredible circumstances, God and a young woman living under the shadow of an oppressive empire have a metaphysically unusual baby who grows up to be a general nuisance, won't stay dead, and sports a few additional holes...
It's the third Sunday of Advent and I'm a little concerned Bible studies for weird goth kids might be turning into a series... Let's talk about the Blessed Virgin Mary and Commander Awake Remembrance of These Valiant Dead Kia Hua Ko Te Pai Snap Back to Reality Oops There Goes Gravity.
Wake was probably never described as "gentle", "meek", or "mild", but there are a few similarities: distinctive outfits, snazzy shrines, commitment to putting down the mighty from their seats, and of course babies with great and terrible destinies niftily conceived without sex.
On the topic of conception, let's clear up a common, uh, misconception: the term "immaculate conception" does not refer to Mary becoming pregnant with Jesus. It's Mary's own conception.
Why are we talking about how Mary was conceived and what does this have to do with lesbian necromancers?
To answer that question, we have to go back further still, way before Mary's conception. Back to these guys and their unfortunate snack cravings:
Remember how last time we talked about the concept of being in a state of grace? Well, the Christian read on Adam and Eve is that a state of grace was, as it were, the factory setting for humanity. They were fully in tune with God, there was no sickness or death, there was no sin. Until, that is, the whole unfortunate business with the apple. The first sin. The world is fundamentally altered. Humanity is expelled from paradise, burdened with sin, death, disease, patriarchy, and work. Worse, this sinful human nature turns out to be sexually transmissible: every human being is born tainted by this "original sin" of Adam and Eve.
This is why Catholicism is so big on baptising babies: even if they're many years off being able to commit any sins themselves (a sin has to be something consciously chosen and understood), they're still contaminated by that original sin of Adam and Eve. Baptism is understood to erase original sin, wiping the slate clean.
Bear with me, we'll be back to necromancers soon I promise. Have a picture of Mary beating up the devil while an angel holds baby Jesus:
OK, but what does Adam and Eve's danger snack have to do with Mary's conception?
The "immaculate conception" refers to the idea that unlike every human being between Adam and Jesus, Mary was conceived without the contamination of original sin. The rationale for this is complex, but essentially boils down to something like the saving power of Jesus not being bound by piffling things like time and space and thus saving his mother before her own conception and allowing himself to also be conceived and born sinless.
But the important bit is that something specific about Mary means that she is uniquely able to be pregnant with Jesus.
You may be starting to guess where this is going...
Because while unconventional pregnancy seems to have been the plan from the get-go for Jesus, it was not with the artist formerly known as The Bomb:
“I had the baby,” said Wake. “The baby I’d had to incubate myself for nine long fucking months, when the foetal dummies these two gave me died.”
“Oh, God, it was yours,” said Augustine, in horror. “I thought you’d used in vitro on one of Mercy’s—”
“I said they all died,” said Wake. “The dummies died. The ova died. Only the sample was still active, no idea how considering it was twelve weeks after the fact, but I wasn’t about to look a gift horse in the mouth.”
“So you used it on yourself,” said Augustine. “Anything for the revolution, eh, Wake?”
We have to assume the foetal dummies plan was hatched by Mercymorn, a brilliant scientist with a myriad of experience. If the problem encountered by Wake were as simple as Lyctoral infertility, I suspect Mercy would have spotted that long before.
But what do Wake and John have in common that Mercymorn or any of the other ova-having residents of the Mithraeum did not? They are both (to some extent at least) factory setting humans: unlike everyone else in the Dominicus system, they never died and were resurrected, nor are they the descendants people who were. John's abilities, while macabre, are not straightforwardly the necromancy otherwise practiced in the Houses. That necromancy is a direct result of one specific act of taking that resulted in the very nature of the world changing: a thanergetic system, inhabited by human beings who, necromancer or not, are fundamentally tainted by thanergy and by the after effects of that action of John's. You might call it a sin. An indelible sin. He does.
It's not an exact parallel, but necromancy certainly occupies a space not dissimilar to original sin: the result of a single action, tainting every descendant of its progenitors regardless of their actions of abilities.
And then enter Gideon, born in space away from the thanergetic energy of the Dominicus system to a mother lacking the 10,000 year intergenerational burden of the resurrection and necromancy. The child of Jod, born to die.
#the locked tomb#tlt#tlt meta#awake remembrance of these valiant dead#commander wake#gideon nav#john gaius#Sin will not survive the second coming of Jesus so what does that say about necromancy at the end of the series?
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This is exactly the kind of shit that drives me crazy...
Again, it's going to get into people's heads when Atla would never have become the good animated series it is today if it had only been them in charge ?! Katara would have simply been Aang's girl ! (What she ironically becomes in the sequel in comics under their sole supervision !) Toph would not have existed, nor would Zuko's exceptional arc. Misery, the best episodes of the series do not come from them ! Stop glorifying them ! They had the basic idea, but it was developed by a whole competent team behind it ! When they are the only ones in charge it sucks ! The Atla comics are an abysmal disaster in terms of character characterization and many other things. What they did to Zuko, Katara and Aang is unforgivable. The Legend of Korra is filled with the same flaws as the original series but much worse and triple ! And they want to make an animated movie about the adult gaang and another animation series with the avatar as an earthbender ?! But stop the bloody massacre ! Also... do I need to remind you that your creators, darling, that you are complaining about are not on the adaptation project, therefore complaining about the future fidelity quality of the product... THEY VALIDATE THE MOVIE ! THIS MOVIE HATED BY EVERYONE, THEY SUPERVISED AND APPROVED IT, YOU FOOL ! It's not surprising that others are more respectful of the universe than the creators themselves who have always wiped their ass with the original series through the adaptation of the movie, the comics and the legend of Korra ! Damn people can be so stupid...
#atla#avatar : the last airbender#avatar the last airbender#atla live action#live action atla#avatar the last airbender live action#live action avatar last airbender#avatar : the last airbender live action#live action avatar : the last airbender#zutara#pro zutara#anti bryke
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Text Me The Details
Modern!Rockstar!Eddie Munson x Influencer!fem!reader
18+ MINORSDNI
cw: gossip magazines, reader being horny on a live stream, cocky!Eddie, drinking, drugs mention
a/n: I kinda want this to be a series? So expect a part two at some point. But yeah this isn't an original idea so, credit to literally everyone who's done this before me. I gave reader a last name because if I have to write y/l/n one more time I'll sob. ANYWAY I hope you all enjoy and let me know if you like this!
WC: 1.2k
...
You are never drinking again. Ever.
Your management would agree after what happened last night. You didn’t mean to spill the secret you’d been keeping. It wasn’t even that big of a deal, however, you had an image to keep up. The party girl, the kind one, the one with lots of friends, the girl who had good grades in college, the one who always donated most of her fortune to various organizations.
Now, every tabloid was writing articles about your celebrity crush.
Party girl and influencer drunkenly admits she’d love to sleep with lead singer of Corroded Coffin Eddie Munson. Sources have said they’ve been together for a while but decided to keep it under wraps.
The dating portion of that article wasn’t true and you silently vow to figure out who the fuck these ‘sources’ were. However, you admitting to wanting to fuck Eddie… did happen. You have no one to blame but yourself.
Now, there are three reasons why you’re so stressed about this. First, even though you party all the time, you were good. You know, like only went out on the weekends, did every single assignment, tutored people on the side, was probably the most unproblematic influencer out there. Second, the last thing you wanted was Eddie Munsons attention. You had this thing where you didn’t want the people you were fans of to perceive you.
Theoretically you knew they did, most of them followed you on social media. But there was a difference between being a fan of someone, and them semi-knowing you vs your actual crush who you own a poster or two of? That makes you want to throw up and pass out at the same time.
But, finally, the third reason this stressed you out was because Eddie and his crew were not good. You know like, partied every single day, smoked a lot of weed and snorted coke off of his groupies and fans. It was all over the tabloids and the band has even posted about it a time or two. You didn’t do that. And if the tabloids caught you doing that, you’d lose everything you worked towards.
“So this is how we’re going to fix it,” Case, your manager, says from where she’s standing next to the fireplace in your apartment. “You’re gonna go back on live and say it was an accident.”
You look up from the article you were reading, eyes finding his. “That is the worst idea ever. I was tipsy not black out drunk. No one will ever believe that was an accident.” You huff, locking your phone, “and I have tickets to their show next week.”
You loved your team, but sometimes they made the most insane comments on how to fix the unfixable.
You stand, pacing the room, “he isn’t one to read gossip magazines. And-and I’m not on the same level as his band. They’re A listers and I’m C list at best.”
Your manager and publicist look like fish after what you said. Anna, your publicist speaks first, “I swear to god if you ever say that again I am uppin your therapy appointments. You hear me?”
You huff, sitting back down on the couch, “I’m not kidding though. I’m not giving up this ticket. It’s one of the few things I’m looking forward to.”
Case answers after rubbing her temples, “you better pray this blows over without him seeing it. You may party but his partying is a whole other level.”
…
The call came two days later, an unknown number popping up on your phone.
You knew, you knew before you even accepted the call who’d be on the other end of the line.
It felt like it started in slow motion, first came the gossip mags with the original story. Then came Eddie following you on instagram. He’d like a few photos and stories you put up. Then came his interview. The interview where he said, “of course I know who she is. I’m flattered really. I hear she’s a sweet girl.”
Now, your phone is buzzing in your hand and you can’t bring yourself to answer the phone.
“Yes just a fucking person. Just like you’re a person. Answer the phone.” You look down at the phone and are thankful it’s just you in your house. You tap the answer button, a fake smile on your face, as you put the phone to your ear.
“Hello?” you use your best interview voice, the one Anna has drilled into you.
You can hear him breathe in before letting it out, long and slow, it’s clear he took a drag of his cigarette. Is he nervous too? There’s no way. Eddie always seemed to be this cool and calm guy, never afraid of anything or anyone. He gets into more fights in a week than you have in your entire 25 years of existence.
“Good afternoon, Miss Asher.” You can hear the grin in his voice and it sends a shiver down your spine, your heart pounding in your chest. “It’s Eddie.”
He didn’t have to introduce himself to you, you’d be able to pick out his voice in a crowded room. But only because you’ve listened to his music so often… only reason.
“Oh! Hi! I’m s-surprised to hear from you.” You cringe at the stutter that came out of you. You had more than enough practice dealing with any situation thrown at you. From the funny to the uncomfortable to the scary. You were trained for this and you were fucking it up. “How can I help you?”
“The band and I will be in town next friday, we’re playing a show.” You know where this is going and it makes your heart beat faster, so fast you’re scared it’ll burst. “I was wonderin’ if you were goin’?”
Oh fuck. Oh fuck. Oh fuck. Oh fuck.
“I am, actually. Me and a few of my friends actually.” You rub your hands down your sweatpants, nerves making them sweat.
“Oh! Well that is fantastic,” his tone is chipper as hell and you know he’s high. On what, you have no idea. “I was thinkin’ that maybe ya friends and you’d wanna join us backstage. VIP area for the show? What cha think?”
All of sudden you forget how the english language works, your tongue sticking to the roof of your mouth. This is what you’ve been wanting for so long. Well, in your dreams of course. But looking at it from a business perspective, it could bring his fans to your page and your fans to his page. It was kind of a win win. Well, win win lose because then Corroded coffin knows who the actual fuck you are and you arent just some fan. And that, terrified you,
“Heeeeeeello? Are you there?”
His voice breaks through your clogged mind, forcing you to respond.
“Hi, sorry. I’m here! I um I got distracted. But, yeah that sounds great, actually. We-we’d love that.”
“Good! I will have my people call your people, yeah?”
“O-or you can just send me the information,” you say it before thinking and now you really want to punch yourself.
He chuckles to himself, “okay, sweetheart, I’ll text you the information. See you next friday.”
He hangs up before you can say another fucking stupid thing. You press the phone into your hands, foot bouncing on the floor with nerves. You can think of seven different ways that conversation could’ve (and should’ve) happened. One of which was with your entire team, another being with your friends, another being with your parents. Not alone to make a fool out of yourself. Your management team was really going to kill you.
#stranger things#stranger things fic#eddie munson x fem!reader#Eddie Munson x reader#Eddie Munson fic#rockstar!eddie munson#rockstar!eddie x reader#rockstar!Eddie x fem!reader#Rockstar!Eddie x influencer!reader
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Can I just say that I am incredibly excited about Good Omens season 2. I adore both you and Terry Pratchett as authors and as individuals. I think it means a whole lot that you've made a point to do things to honor him with this series, and honestly just how much the first season felt like a love story to the book as a whole. I believe the best adaptations are ones that are passionate about their source material (which isn't interchangeable with "word for word the exact same"). I read that you and Terry had plotted some story ideas about a second novel, but of course were never able to work on the story together again to be able to write it out. I'm just curious, if it's okay to ask, how much of season 2 is inspired by those shared ideas or if it's actually based on them entirely? I'm honestly excited about it either way, but I think there's just something a bit magical about having your two minds and voices shared in the original story.
Season 2 exists to get us from the end of the first book to the beginning of the second book that we plotted. If we get to make a Season 3, that is the book that Terry and I plotted in 1989.
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❝ꜱᴏᴜʟꜱ ᴛᴏ ᴄʀᴜꜱʜ❞ — chapter five | part one | coriolanus snow
「ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢ:」 SFW | Coriolanus is his own warning, elitism
「ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ:」 young! Coriolanus Snow x fem! Reader
「ꜱᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ:」 Sejanus Plinth finds his soulmate in one of the tributes
「ᴀ/ɴ:」 i was so afraid to write this, but here it goes anyways, make sure to give me y'all feedback! the chapter is divided in two parts, this is part one!
beta read by the AMAZING @nowitsmissing
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Coriolanus Snow didn't sleep a wink, it was perhaps at six that he managed to finish the backup proposal. He was dissatisfied with it. it wasn't nearly as good as his original ideas, but it would have to make do if you turned about to be a snake.
In someplace in his heart, he knew that you wouldn't take credit for his work. But he also knew better than to believe his heart over his mind. Being foolish and lovesick gets you nowhere.
After an undeserving cold shower and a meal of potatoes and (expired) milk with grandma’am and Tigris. He draped himself in the Academy uniform and went to the Capitol Zoo as there was time before classes began.
He ignored the aching of his legs as he arrived, he ignored the jealousy that brewed when he saw Sejanus get out of his fancy car, arriving a few minutes later Coryo had.
Sejanus was carrying a bag, the weight of it heavy as it was filled with food Coriolanus had instructed him to bring. Despite the fact that he could have sneaked food from the cafeteria solely for his tribute, he felt Dean's eyes on him more than ever. He refused to be labeled as a thief.
Sejanus greeted him with a grin and Coriolanus replied with his greeting. He ignored the way his stomach seemed to contract with the need for more food. He refused to cave in. He and Sejanus walked side by side towards the cage, the blood outside was cleaned but the blood of the district ten girl seemed to be rotting in the confinement of the cage. Filling the surrounding area with a pungent smell that made Coryo want to hurl and empty his stomach.
He bit the inside of his cheek to control the urge. Sejanus went to the other side to find his tribute, Marcus, a district two boy who was his ex-classmate. It was pathetic to Snow that after so many years Sejanus still thought of himself as district scum despite being right.
He greets Lucy Gray with a smile on his face. Lucy, with her southern accent, replied, “I am sorry about your friend.” Coriolanus shrugged it off. Arachne was never his friend, but no need to disrespect the death. “Thank you,” he replied politely, as he handed her the sandwich from the cage.
Coriolanus looks at Jessup, district twelve boy, your tribute. He had a nasty bite on his neck. Lucy Gray sees him eyeing the wound and she begins to explain,
“He kept the bats away from me on the train. So I could get some sleep, he was bitten.”
Coriolanus nodded in response, it looked like Jessup was out before the game even began. One dead, twenty-three to go. He hides the flash of joy he feels in his chest and says, “He seems like a good person.”
“He is,” Lucy Gray emphasized, “He doesn't deserve to be here and neither do I.”
Coriolanus didn't want to get into the moral argument so he stayed quiet, thankfully not even a whole minute passed as Sejanus strutted towards them, his shoulders down, his expression defeated.
It took everything in Coriolanus not to smirk at the kick-down puppy.
Sejanus came to him, his eyes glossed with sadness, “Marcus turned the other tributes against me. They aren't taking the food.”
Sejanus Plinth turned to Lucy Gray, “You… Can you help? They might eat if you give it to them.”
Lucy Gray nodded and Coriolanus felt irritated that Sejanus wasn't asking Coryo for permission first, it was his songbird after all. But he didn't say anything and watched the interaction unfold.
That's when the most unexpected thing happened. Sejanus Plinth lets out a sob as he catches the sight of Lucy Gray's wrist, the black ink on her skin, her soulmate number. Coriolanus Snow sees the recognition Sejanus has in his eyes as he looks at the date.
He knows the number.
Sejanus Plinth and Lucy Gray are soulmates.
Coryo got over his shock quickly when he realized the irony of the situation. A mentor and tribute. Both are from the districts but have vastly different lives. A songbird and a boy Coriolanus Snow wished could sew his mouth shut.
Fitting.
He could barely manage the smile off his face but then he remembered you and his burnt wrist. The smirk turned grim, and he was glad that he was not the only one sharing the misery despite it being with Sejanus. Now Sej knew what it felt like, let him suffer, let's see if daddy's money works here.
He tuned out as Sejanus and Lucy Gray talked. Lucy Gray doesn't cry but Sejanus has enough tears for both and Coriolanus wants to scoff. But instead, he puts a hand on Sejanus' shoulder and gives him what he thinks is a comforting squeeze.
“We have to go,” he said, his eyes flashing to Lucy, hoping she was more rational than her counterpart. “There are classes to attend.” Coriolanus Snow refuses to be late and has that on his record. Unfortunately, he can't voice that reason out. “We have to go,” Snow insisted to Sejanus.
“Go,” the songbird encourages, taking Sejanus's hand in hers. She gives him an awkward but genuine smile, not meant for the TV. Something special. “I'll be here,” she joked and it worked horribly as more sobs seemed to wreck the Plinth boy.
Coriolanus gives a pitiful stare to Lucy before dragging the boy out of the zoo and shoving him into the car. He barks the order to drive and relishes briefly at how the driver had flinched. Sejanus continues to cry and despise Snow feels the urge to knock him out. He doesn't. Instead, he runs his thumb over the raised flesh on his wrist and redirects his thoughts to you and yesterday (he refuses to acknowledge the sin he committed at night)
Yesterday was refreshing. Nice company (though his mind didn't seem to want to admit that). Full stomach. And despite the panic attack, he enjoyed it. Enjoyed you. Spending moments with you was rare throughout the years, it took Coriolanus a long time not to retch whenever he saw you. It was better now, he was mature, nothing like the eight-year-old but with the same thoughts nonetheless.
Despite everything you're not worthy of being his soulmate.
Sejanus managed to control himself, picking his pieces up and licking his wounds as they got closer to the academy. As they reached the gates, Coriolanus' hand reached to open the door. Sejanus' voice stopped him.
“Make sure she wins, Coriolanus. Please”
“I will try my best,” was all Snow said in return. Before Coriolanus is fully out of the car, he turns to Sejanus and says, “Buy a guitar for your girl.”
His songbird. Coryo's songbird. His soulmate. Snows’ Victor.
“And keep it a secret, Sejanus.”
He can't let the Plinth boy take the glory when she wins.
NEXT PART
#character x reader#x you#x reader#x female reader#fem reader#scenario#president coriolanus snow#coriolanus snow x reader#coriolanus x reader#coriolanus smut#coriolanus snow#coriolanus snow smut#young coriolanus snow#coriolanus x you#coriolanus snow x reader smut#coriolanus snow x female!reader#coriolanus snow x you#snow x reader#tom blyth#dystopian fiction#thg tbosas#the ballad of songbirds and snakes#tbosas fanfiction#tbosas x reader#tbosas#the hunger games#the hunger games x reader#thg x reader#thg series#thg fanfiction
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thinking about how people who watch the emperor's new groove and somehow come out of it shipping pacha and kuzco, or thinking yzma only became evil when kuzco fired her and that she would've been a better ruler than him, are both so wrong in so many different ways and are also missing one of the things that i absolutely love about the movie. which is that, the way i see it, pacha and yzma are counterparts. as parental figures to kuzco.
like, just to get this out of the way first, yzma was a dismissive asshole to a peasant whose family was starving. and yeah, if kuzco had been in her place he definitely would've also done that, which... is why she would not be a better ruler than him. she'd just be the same because they're both horrible people in the exact same ways. her reaction to being fired is to plot murder, and as soon as his funeral is over she sets everyone to work on replacing paintings of kuzco with paintings of herself and covering the palace with imagery that makes it clear that it's all about her now. i'm not even sure why this is a discussion tbh.
and also, kuzco is literally a teenager. he's barely 18 years old. source: in the movie, yzma says at his funeral that kuzco was "taken from us so tragically on the very eve of his eighteenth birthday." she also claims in the movie to have "practically raised" him, to which kronk replies "yeah, you'd think he would've turned out better". and sure, she could be exaggerating, but what evidence do we have that she is? we learn absolutely nothing of his parents, who are never mentioned even once in the movie, or of anyone else who could've raised him, and she's his advisor who for some reason sees no problem with attending to royal duties in his place. most likely because she's his regent. also, i'm not exactly a fan of the sequel tv series "the emperor's new school" but it does have something that backs up my point: kuzco is revealed to be an orphan and just before his father went and got lost at sea, he asked yzma (who was also his advisor) to take care of kuzco if anything happened to him. so, yeah, the writers who worked on the series clearly thought that yzma genuinely did raise kuzco, and nothing in the movie contradicts this.
and i find the idea of her being his only parental figure for pretty much his whole childhood incredibly interesting because, and this also goes back into why she wouldn't be a better ruler than him--she mirrors him as a reflection of what would've become of him if he'd never met pacha. they're both incredibly arrogant, power-hungry, selfish, and cruel, with a tendency to blame their problems on everyone but themselves. yzma was even originally going to have her own reprise of kuzco's theme song "perfect world", which i really wish had been kept:
[ID: Lyrics that read:
I'Il be the sovereign queen of the nation
And the chicest chick in creation
I'm the cat with all the cream and ooh-la-la
This deadly concentration
Will put an end to my frustration
Now this perfect world begins and ends with moi
What's my name?
Yzma, Yzma, Yzma
Yzma (what's my name?)
Yzma, Yzma (What'd you say?)
Yzma (Ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha!) Yzma.
End ID]
(this song can be fully heard in "the sweatbox", the documentary about the making of the movie, and is also on youtube btw)
anyway, i'm sure yzma would not exactly have been the most nurturing or hands-on guardian, especially given that she and kuzco don't exactly treat each other like family. but it makes a lot of sense to think that her behavior influened kuzco's throughout the years. and for the entire movie, she remains determined to kill him. when he tries to reason with her and admits that he should've been nicer, she says the same thing to him that he originally said when he fired her. she never grows or changes and in the end, she hurts the one person who was willing to stand by her (and even then, kronk had never fully been on board with her plan) and he ends up trying to crush her with a chandelier. kuzco on the other hand is able to realize the error of his ways, come to regret who he was in the past, and start taking steps toward being a better person. his theme song gets a reprise where it's changed from a song about one person being the center of the world to a Power Of Friendship song. why? because, as i've already mentioned, he has pacha.
pacha, who similarly to both yzma and kuzco is in a position of authority as the leader of the village but unlike either of them is gentle and humble. who isn't afraid to stand up to kuzco and be honest with him even though he's the emperor, who agrees to take him back to the palace but has no obligation to be so helpful, kind, and caring toward him--and just about every reason not to be--and still chooses to be anyway. pacha who is 45 years old (also stated in the sweatbox documentary) and can see that kuzco is practically still a kid, not a single day over 18, who has time to grow and change. pacha, who already has a wife and two kids with another on the way, but practically treats kuzco like one of his own. who acknowledges that if kuzco dies all his problems will be gone and then still worries about him and goes out of his way to rescue him after he wanders into the jungle. who sees kuzco shivering at night and covers him with his poncho, who carries him when he's genuinely too weak to keep walking, who refuses to give up on him even after repeatedly being betrayed by him because he believes there's good in everyone.
also, while yzma ends up repeating kuzco's harsh words of dismissal as she tells him of her plans to kill him, kuzco had previously repeated pacha's words that "nobody's that heartless" after he saved pacha's life. and as the movie progresses kuzco and pacha's relationship becomes more and more equal and is constantly contrasted by moments of yzma being cruel and unappreciative of kronk's kindness. a good example of this is how kronk is constantly being forced to carry yzma everywhere on his back while yzma literally walks all over him and steps on his hands when she gets down, whereas when pacha briefly carries kuzco after the latter collapses he tells him he'll have to walk the rest of the way later and kuzco doesn't even protest.
idk if i'm even explaining well what i'm trying to say here. but basically, if yzma actually raised kuzco and contributed to his current behavior, then she and pacha both are figures who guided him and helped him grow. only yzma helped him become the tyrant that he was at the start of the movie, who was selfish and callous and saw everyone else as beneath him. whereas pacha helped him see the value in being selfless and considerate of others. and in the end, yzma is stuck as a cat and nobody is concerned about her. kronk has found a new job that makes him genuinely happy, while kuzco has decided to build a hut on the hill next to pacha's and effectively joined his family. in the sweatbox documentary it's even mentioned that chicha and the kids were at risk of being removed from the film, but it was decided that they needed to be there because having just pacha as a single guy who lived alone wasn't interesting enough--kuzco needed to go from having basically an empty world where he had nobody to being able to come together with pacha's whole family. and i just think that's incredibly satisfying and beautiful. it also leads up to one of the few things i really do enjoy about the emperor's new school, which is the fact that during the show kuzco moves in with pacha and chicha and pretty explicitly thinks of them as basically his parents while he's like a son to them.
idk. i feel like my mind went in a million different directions while i was writing all this. but i guess i just think that for all of the praise the emperor's new groove gets for its comedy and for how hilarious yzma and kronk in particular are as a duo, the movie also has a lot of genuine heart that gets overlooked. kuzco's character growth and his unique dynamic with pacha is, for me, really what elevates the movie from just a funny movie that i like to one of my favorite disney movies. and i wish more people appreciated that aspect of it and saw it as a found family story in the same way that treasure planet, brother bear, and lilo and stitch are all found family stories.
#disney#the emperor's new groove#help i wrote a whole essay about this movie#and i didn't even mention how much i love the way kuzco's home life is contrasted with pacha's#ugh. they have one of the most interesting and unique dynamics ever in a disney movie. i love them#love how kuzco gets away from yzma's toxic influence by way of accidentally being adopted#by the guy whose village he almost destroyed for a theme park#they're ENEMIES to FOUND FAMILY.... sobs#kuzco#pacha#yzma#kronk
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You know what? Fuck it
DC x DP prompt #3
I think at least lmao.
Anyway! Jason starts making videos on YouTube for one reason or another (is really stressed, no one listens to his rants Abt books who cares). His content is mostly bad books he read or really really really long rants Abt pride and prejudice. Like 3 hours on one tiny detail he noticed on his 214th read through.
He's kinda popular, mostly bc his terrible books videos. He talks Abt the ones that made him the most mad, which coincidentally are mostly romance and supernatural. Like he's one of the well known figures in the supernatural romance critique group (whcih is pretty small, but well). (Also he doesn't show his face on camera, bc secret identity and stuff, it's just his voice over a video of something mundane, like the sky or a room in which is a fly or something)
And now this can go two ways, that i can think of (w dead on main in mind at least)
1) one day Jason finds a book which is supernatural romance and is actually good. It has a kidna cliche system for the supernatural stuff, but with a refreshing twist. The characters have depts and flaws, yet are still very likable. The plot is actually interesting and overall the story's theme is death, not belonging anywhere and overall stuff that is very close to Jason's heart. The story doesn't shy away from violence and it is suprisingly accurate.
(I'm.gonna reblog this w pretty long idea of what this book could be Abt, bc i don't wanna annoy ppl lol)
Anyway Jason kinda falls in love w it, and it becomes famous for being the first novel Jason rated positively or something.
Meanwhile Danny, who was told by jazz writing is good way to get his feeling out, and just wanted to make a quick buck, is really fucking confused how tf did his book become so popular and who tf is this nerd who rates books for a living.
(basically big fan Jason and suspicious/awkward Danny lmao)
2) there is a famous series on Jason profile. It's the worst fucking series he ever read and it's just fucking awful. All the characters are fucking terrible, always going on and on about one thing, the romance sucks in a way that isnt even funny. Jason would love to believe some wrote this as a joke, if it wasn't for the absolute cringefest this was, and it wasn't a whole ass series!! Like who writes 12 books for a joke?
Danny ducking Fenton that's who. Dude was so ducking annoyed at his rogues, he threatened them w writing a terrible romance novels abt them. The ghosts, knowing his terrible grade in literature backed off for a moment, before someone crossed the line. And write Danny did. It was the worst thing he had ever written, the love interest was perfect caricature yet still faithfully go the original. And Danny, because fuck them he lost sommuch sleep over that one prank, decided to publish it. (The book was pretty thin so it didn't take that much time writing it). Unfortunately it became immensely popular in the infinite realm. So the ghosts started crossing lines on purpose. Before Danny figured it out, he had already published his fifth book and was writing another three. After some bargaining, getting a book written Abt them as a piece of shit love interest became a reward.
And while yeah, he had to say his writing was terrible and the books sucked, some small part of him was kinda proud y'know? Like a mother of her twelve ugly as fuck toddlers.
So when he saw some nerd on the internet not only shit talk his book, but also get money of it?
Danny decided to haunt him (just like his books did him, now that everyone knew Abt them thanks to this guy)
(enemies (sorta it's not that serious tho) to lovers ala terrible writer Danny who hates his books and kinda famous YouTuber hasn't who also hates Danny's books)
--
Fuck this is way too long wtf. Anyway imma reblog this w 1) book idea. Might add whatever i think the twelve books could be Abt. Pls if u want to add anything to this pls do!!
#dc x dp#dp x dc#dp x dc crossover#crossover#dcxdp#dp x dc writing prompt#jason todd#danny fenton#writing prompt#dead on main#youtuber jason#jason the youtuber lmao#writer danny#they r so dumb wtf#also i imagine batfam doesnt know and they find out by either jason crying abt how good this book is and how he needs to meet the author#and how he needs to make a video abt it or 2) the same thing but hes pissed off bc he juzt spend his time to read that abomination and#just wants to kill danny lmao#im not sorry#ghost zone#also i imagine the first one to get a book abt them is kitty w johny 13 as a guest and its just romeo ajd juliet parody#in jasons words the bike has the most personality lmao
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On Boxing Day pro-Palestine demonstrators met customers at the Zara sale in the Westfield shopping centre, in Stratford, east London. They were not there to wish them the compliments of the season.
‘Bombs are dropping while you’re shopping,’ they chanted, as police stood by to make sure the protests did not turn violent. ‘Zara is enabling genocide,’ their placards read.
Quite what they wanted bargain hunters to do about the Israeli forces bombing the Gaza Strip, they never said. Lobby their MPs? Politicians are on their Christmas holidays. Join the Palestinian armed struggle? It was unclear whether the shopping centre had a Hamas recruitment office.
But on one point the demonstrators were certain: no one should be buying from Zara. Even though the fashion chain has not encouraged Israel’s war against Hamas, earned income from it, or supported Israel in any material way, it was nevertheless “exploiting a genocide and commodifying Palestine's pain for profit”.
Zara, in short, has become the object of a paranoid fantasy: a QAnon conspiracy theory for the postcolonial left.
The Zara conspiracy is an entirely modern phenomenon. It has no original author. Antisemitic Russians sat down and wrote the Protocols of the Elders of Zion in the early 20th century. There was an actual “Q” behind the QAnon conspiracy: a far-right activist who first appeared on 4chan message boards in 2017 to claim that a cabal of child abusers was conspiring against Donald Trump.
The Zara conspiracy was mass produced by social media users: an example of the madness of crowds rather than their supposed wisdom. The cause of the descent into hysteria was bizarre.
In early December Zara launched an advertising campaign featuring the model Kristen McMenamy wearing its latest collection in a sculptor’s studio. It clearly was a studio, by the way, and not a war zone in southern Israel or Gaza. McMenamy carried a mannequin wrapped in white fabric. The cry went up that the Spanish company was exploiting the suffering of Palestinians and that the mannequin was meant to represent a victim of Israeli aggression wrapped in a shroud.
The accusation was insane. No one in the photo shoot resembled a soldier or a casualty of war. Anyone who thought for 30 seconds before resorting to social media would have known that global brands plan their advertising campaigns months in advance.
Zara said the campaign presented “a series of images of unfinished sculptures in a sculptor’s studio and was created with the sole purpose of showcasing craft-made garments in an artistic context”. The idea for the studio setting was conceived in July. The photo shoot was in September, weeks before the Hamas assault on Israel on 7 October.
No one cared. Melanie Elturk, the CEO of fashion brand Haute Hijab, said of the campaign, ‘this is sick. What kind of sick, twisted, and sadistic images am I looking at?’ #BoycottZara trended on Twitter, as users said that Zara was ‘utterly shameful and disgraceful”’.
To justify their condemnations, activists developed ever-weirder theories. A piece of cardboard in the photoshoot was meant to be a map of Israel/Palestine turned upside down. Because a Zara executive had once invited an extreme right-wing Israeli politician to a meeting, the whole company was damned.
Astonishingly, or maybe not so astonishingly to anyone who follows online manias, the fake accusations worked. Zara stores in Glasgow, Toronto. Hanover, Melbourne and Amsterdam were targeted.
What on earth could Zara do? PR specialists normally say that the worst type of apology is the non-apology apology, when a public figure or institution shows no remorse, but instead says that they are sorry that people are offended. Yet Zara had not sought to trivialize or profit from the war so what else could it do but offer a non-apology apology? The company duly said it was sorry that people were upset.
“Unfortunately, some customers felt offended by these images, which have now been removed, and saw in them something far from what was intended when they were created,” it said on 13 December, and pulled the advertising campaign
That was two-weeks ago and yet still the protests in Zara stores continue. On 23 December activists targeted Zara on Oxford Street chanting , 'Zara, Zara, you can't hide, stop supporting genocide', even though Zara was not, in fact, supporting genocide. On Boxing Day, they were at the Stratford shopping centre.
Zara has apologised for an offence it did not commit. There is no way that any serious person can believe the charges against it. And yet believe them the protestors do. Or at the very least they pretend to believe for the sake of keeping in with their allies.
Maybe nothing will come of the protests. One could have argued in 2017, after all, that QAnon was essentially simple-minded people living out their fantasies online. Certainly, every sane American knew that there was no clique of paedophiles running the Democrat party, but where was the harm in the conspiracy theory?
Then QAnon supporters stormed the US capitol in January 2021. Will the same story play out from the Gaza protests? As far as I can tell, no one on the left is challenging the paranoia. I have yet to see the fact-checkers of the BBC and Channel 4 warning about the fake news on the left with anything like the gusto with which they treat its counterparts on the right.
To be fair, the scale of disinformation around the Gaza war is off the charts, and it is impossible to chase down every lie. But when fake news goes from online fantasies to real world protests, from 4chan to the Capitol, from Twitter to the Westfield shopping centre, it’s worth taking notice.
Sensible supporters of a Palestinian state ought to be the most concerned. No one apart from fascists, Islamists and far leftists believes that Israel should not defend itself. And yet the scale of its military action in Gaza is outraging world opinion. Mainstream politicians, who might one day put pressure on Israel, remain very wary about reflecting the anger on the streets.
They look at the insane conspiracy theories on the western left and see them as no different from the insane conspiracy theories that motivate Hamas, and they back away.
The Palestinians need many things: an end to the Netanyahu government, and an end to Hamas. But they could also use allies in the West who do not discredit their cause with dark, gibbering fantasies.
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