#all might in his prime - excessive force - 'death is the only way out of this' etc | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

nochuvalencia · 3 years

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𝐁 𝐁 𝐇 𝐌 𝐌 - jjk

I was basically inspired by these ^^^ pics of jk bc wow hot hi

⚠️ ALSO QUICK DISCLAIMER :: this is my first fanfic on here so it might be terrible but enjoy anyway. ⚠️

𝘱𝘢𝘪𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨 :: reader x crimeboss!jk

𝘴𝘶𝘮𝘮𝘢𝘳𝘺 :: bitch you better have his money.

𝘨𝘦𝘯𝘳𝘦 :: ABSOLUTE SMUTTY FILTH heh angst too ig

𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘥 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘵 :: 11.9k

𝘸𝘢𝘳𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘴 :: long haired tatted jk, that’s it, that’s the warning, uh kinda sketchy plot hsjsjsj, WOW ANGST ASF at the beginning tho, dub!con towards the middle don’t hurt me, fuck or die ig, gunplay????? yeah????? jks BLATANT OVERUSE of pet names, dacryphillia, major-ish character death, describing the injuries on a dead body, jk has a sir kink ig??? um excessive over exaggerated choking bc jks hands yum, explicit seggs, rough jk, he’s kinda mean, dom!jk, sub!reader, oral m&f receiving (facefucking on both ends), coochie sniff if you squint, coochie slaps if u squint too, spanking, OVERSTIMULATION, unprotected seggs, degradation, he calls her a bitch once idk, other bad names, praise too ig, jk gives an ultimatum, SLIGHT aftercare, he kinda like switches from flirty to murderous like a bunch of times it’s kinda weird, jk has an impossibly huge shlong obv, contemplating death, super mature themes, reader is a BIG fucking crybaby, overuse of the word fuck, corruption kink at the end if u squint super hard, also DUB!CON in case you didn’t see it, at this point I should just write what it doesn’t have

“If you’re not out of my house in 3.4 seconds, I'm dragging you out by the testicles” you uttered, your alarmingly calm voice laced with raw brutality as hot tears cascaded down your burning cheeks, your arm outstretched and pointed toward the blinding light of the hallway that contrasted with your dark bedroom. You said nothing more, with your eyes trained angrily at one of the four blank tan walls nearby, not possibly being able to bear speaking to or sparing a glance into the eyes of a cheating whore. The woman you had just caught him with scurried past you wearily, a terrified and confused glint in her eyes as she passed your frigid frame sans underwear, with her sparkly silver pumps dangling from her fingers and a wrinkly silver dress hanging limply from the clutches of her other hand. The man in question shuffled cautiously around the bed, clutching the exposed parts of his body and approaching you with extreme hesitation and outstretched hands, as if trying to calm the already blazing flames of your fury. He laid a cold, rough hand on your shoulder squeezing softly, a motion that once brought you comfort but only added the all consuming hatred that bubbled up inside you akin to ravenous bile filling up the pit of your belly. “Did you not hear what I said? Get out.” You spat, glossy eyes still pointed toward anything but him.

“____ please” he croaked, like the slimy frog he truly was, his voice dripping in false agony which only neared you closer to the brink of undoubtedly committing an act of extreme violence against that man. “Please baby it wasn’t-'' you blanked. He was about to make an excuse. A stupid, rediculous, horrible, completely false excuse which you had absolutely no patience to hear. So you snapped, harshly shrugging your shoulder and sending his arm flying back to his side. He stepped back, ceasing his incessant chatter as he stared at you, a surprised expression painting his “pained” features. He wasn’t accustomed to you acting like this, you were never one to raise your voice or act out in any sort of way so he stood there, eyes widened in dumbfounded silence and you took this chance, bending down, scooping up as much of his discarded clothing as you possibly could and throwing it in his face, your rage bubbling over into something much more carnal as you inhaled deeply through your nose.

“Shut the fuck up and leave!” He scrambled to catch as many clothes as he could and was taken aback by your abrupt outburst. He stood silent once again though this time, he was making the face he often made when forcing himself to cry. It was the face he made around his mother to get out of family responsibilities. The face he made around his friends when guilt tripping them into buying him drinks, and now he's using it for you. To guilt you into taking pity on his pathetic actions which merely was the catalyst for your unforgiving violence. In an instant you were behind him, heaving him out of the door with your bare hands, pushing with all your might, using the immense pain coursing through your limbs as motivation to drive his beefy frame further and further out of the bedroom, down the hallway, into the living room and closer to the door yelling “I said leave! Leave! Now!” Pushing harder and harder with every word you choked out. The tears began to flow faster, clouding and distorting your vision as your face contorted into an expression of pure anguish until finally, he was forced out of the open doorway and into the main hallway of your apartment building. You promptly slammed the door in his face and the only thought traveling though your mind was ‘thank god she left that door open’ because you wouldn’t have been able to force him through it otherwise.

You stood silently for a few seconds, back to the door, face still slick with tears as the cool wood on your back shook senselessly with every beat of his fist and muffled shout of his voice crying phrases like “____ open the fuking door!” , “this is my apartment too baby come on” and other variations of the sort. Your mind was empty while you remained there, letting the harsh reality sink in like the slowest molasses. You allowed that man, that pig, to take 10 years of your life. 10 years of your prime. 10 years that you'll never get back no matter how much you beg and plead for it. Come to think of it, you had shaped your entire life around him. His influence was there no matter how much you wished it wasn’t. His residue staining your life like the blackest ink of which you would never be able to rid yourself. At the surfacing of these thoughts, you’d finally broke down and cried, like ugly cried. Broken heaves and sobs escaped your throat until you felt like you were suffocating as you slid down the door, not caring if he heard your wails and whines of torment on the other side of the polished mahogany. You actually hoped he did hear, you wanted him to hear the anguish and grief he put you through. You wanted him to hear you cry out all of your attachment and love for him until there was none left, so he knows the tears flowing from your body hold all of the affection you harbor for him. All ten years of attraction flowing out in a gigantic tsunami of grief that can only end in a new start.

Your mind played through all the memories, and the small amount of good times you had with each other while you sobbed mercilessly, also coming to the realization that he never did anything for you. Ever since you were 14 you’d been changing everything about yourself for him, while he merely lived his life, dragging you along like a supportive little puppy and rewarding you with cheap token gifts and mediocre sex once in a blue moon.

He wanted to attend university in your hometown so you abandoned your dream school, which accepted you, to attend a closer college. He made the decision to study abroad, so you had to drop everything and move to Australia for him. He wanted to wait to have kids so you froze your fucking eggs for him. He got a great new job at a large company in Asia, so you dropped everything again and moved to South Korea. You learned Korean for him. You have the same friends as him. You even cut a few family members off because he was “uncomfy” around them. He wouldn’t even go down on you because it also made him ‘uncomfy’, which should’ve been a red flag from the start. You did all of this bullshit in the haze of love. The promise that he’d reciprocate all of it in affection and adoration, which he didn’t, and now you’re sitting in your living room bawling your brains out because you were too lovestruck to see the signs.

After sobbing hysterically for what seemed like hours, you’d sat limply in front of your door, slouching back onto it as if it were a plush armchair and staring blankly into space, your mind completely empty. Feeling overwhelmed and exhausted beyond belief, you leaned forward, groaning in anguish as your tired muscles cried out in distress after being immobile for more than four hours. Crawling over to the couch, you tiredly flung your nearly paralyzed body onto the soft cushions with a sigh, not even bothering to pull the fluffy throw blanket over your body as your entire frame began to steadily shut down. Before your eyes completely shut, you caught a glimpse of the clock perched on the wooden tv stand which read 11:11 and scoffing quietly as you thought to yourself, ‘I thought that was supposed to mean good luck’ and you gave in to the delicious expanse of slumber.

You were startled awake by the incessant pounding of your now ex-boyfriends fist on the door, again. For the past 4 days since you’d forced him out, he’d show up outside your door at the ass crack of dawn just banging on the door profusely, as if that would persuade you to open it an inch. He had a schedule, he’d come at 5am, before he went off to work, then at 12:30 on his lunch break, then again at 9:45 just to make you miserable before you went to bed. You’re actually surprised the neighbors haven’t complained to the landlords yet. You tossed the blanket off of your sticky body, kicking and thrashing wildly due to the annoyance caused by that nuisance.

You cried more times than you can count during these last 4 days, especially during the times he would attempt to win you over with sappy shit like “baby, you’re my everything, you’re all i’ve ever wanted”, the lyrics to one of your favorite songs or, “you’re my forever ____, you can’t just throw 10 years away babe” to which you cried about for 3 hours after he’d said it, after realizing that he actually wasted 10 fucking years of your life. Anger bubbled up in the pit of your stomach as you listened to the repetitive banging of his fist and at this point you had enough and came to the decision it was finally time to pack his shit. Stomping into the living room, you grabbed a necessary box of bags that sat on the coffee table in the center of the room, figuring you were ready to use it. With a final nod of your head, you marched into your shared bedroom and opened all of the cabinets and drawers that contained the plethora of his belongings and flinging them on the floor, grabbing the box of xl trash bags you’d snagged on your march in here and started tossing things in left and right, not caring about the brand name or the state of the fabric or anything for that matter. All you saw was red as your eyes welled up with tears for the first and probably not last time that day.

“I can’t do this” you sobbed out, voice hoarse as you fell to your knees, ignoring the rugburn that was soon to form on those areas as your shoulders shook with every harsh breath you took. You had been dreading this task. Dreading it only for its significance that once you packed all his things and tossed them out, your relationship would be truly over. You definitely didn’t want him back but this would be the first time you’ve been alone in 10+ years and you were not certain you were prepared for that let alone wanting it. Inhaling shakily, you sniffed, ridding your face of any moisture as you cleared your throat and walked back into the kitchen, grabbing the bottle of chardonnay from your anniversary that fell on the week prior and venturing back into the closet to resume your task. You weren’t much of a drinker but for this task, you’d need a bottle or two.

A few hours later, he’d finally went off to work and you sat in the doorway of the closet, drunkenly dressed in the wedding gown you were made to be wed in this summer still combing through all of his clothing and tossing them messily into a bag that laid open on the floor beside you. You took a swig from the bottle, hissing softly at the satisfying burn that seared it’s way down your throat and rubbing at your puffy eyes with the knuckle of your index finger. The closet was mostly bare, except for a rack with some of his clothes and one rack of semi-expensive clothing his cheap ass reluctantly purchased for you and you glanced around, catching a glimpse of some ugly floral fabric in the corner of the small space. Getting on your hands and knees you reached a limp hand out, taking hold of the horrendous fabric and dragging it out with a groan, eyes wide at the surprising heft of the object in your hand.

It was a pillowcase. A pillowcase full of something brick shaped. You raised an eyebrow quizzically before reaching into the bag and pulling out a fat stack of cash. Taking a sharp intake of breath you paused, staring blankly at the wrapped wad in your hand and cocking your head to the side. You peeked over into the bag after a few minutes, eyes popping out of your skull as they feasted on more huge stacks of money. It was Korean currency but there had to be at least 250k USD worth in the entire sack. You furrowed your brows, tossing the money back into the pillowcase forcefully as a tornado of thoughts whirled in your mind. Had he been saving behind your back? Was he planning on getting rich then eventually hanging you out to dry for some younger girl? How long has he had all of this? Where the fuck did it all come from?

You looked back at the money then back at the corner you found it in, squinting as you spotted some more ugly purple fabric. Crawling behind the clothing earnestly, you managed to fish out 4 more pillowcases full of money. You stifled a laugh, having never been in the presence of so much currency, you guessed it had to be more than 1 million dollars. You smiled for the first time in 4 days, lips curling up into a wide joy filled expression as you dumped all of the money onto the rugged floor of the closet. With all of the alcohol coursing through your veins, (almost a whole bottle) you didn’t hesitate to grab the biggest tote bag you own and stuff as much money as it could hold inside. You figured it was the least he could do after cheating on you.

He deserved to pay, and you obviously deserved a raise.

It was a full on shopping spree. After throwing all of his shit into bags, you tossed them outside your door and left with as much money as you could carry before he could come back on his lunch break. You even came back to get some more money, just to go out and spend it again. To say you splurged would be an understatement, you spent almost half of the money on clothes, shoes, a hair and makeup appointment, a manicure, a new car, and you even paid rent for six months after taking his name off the lease.

So here you were, struggling up the stairs as quick as you could, due to the fact that it was 9:30 and you were trying to avoid seeing him at his 9:45 visit. Your feet screamed in agony in your new jimmy choo pumps, because you’d been on them all day, and you had at least six shopping bags hanging from each arm, all full with an assortment of gaudy items such as shoe boxes, makeup products, and clothing. You had finally reached the door after a while, smiling at the absence of his bags which meant he took them and swiftly unlocked the door, clamoring in and tiredly dropping the bags in your hands. With a sigh, you locked the door, running a hand through your freshly styled hair as you rid your face of the designer sunglasses that shielded it. Kicking off your shoes, you hummed gratifyingly at the pleasurable feeling of bare feet and shuffled over to your couch, plopping down on the end cushion groggily.

A soft buzz in your back pocket caught your attention as you carefully fished out the new phone you purchased and unlocked it with your perfectly manicured fingers, raising an eyebrow quizzically as the texts rolled in, ‘i thought i blocked him’ you thought, preparing to do it a second time before a few texts caught your attention and you froze on the spot, chuckling heartlessly at his words.

+82 2 2263 5950 : whose car is in our parking spot?

+82 2 2263 5950 : did you already move on?

+82 2 2263 5950 : wow whore

You rolled your eyes, wondering where he attained the gaul to accuse you of a feat such as that. Calling you a whore as if that name isn’t suitable for himself. Even more so than you. You decided to text him back, feeding off of an unknown source of confidence as your fingers furiously tapped along the screen.

me : it’s my car asshole

me : bought it with the money u left me

me :thx baby <3

+82 2 2263 5950 : what money?

me : the money in the closet you didn’t bother telling me abt u dumb fuck

+82 2 2263 5950 : don’t use that money

me : why should i listen to you?

me : you aren’t my bf

+82 2 2263 5950 : no seriously ____ don’t use that money wtf is wrong with u

me : already did bye babe

You blocked him as quickly as you could, face burning with absolute anger as you tossed your phone on the cushion beside you. Who is he to tell you what you could or couldn’t do? You had come to the decision then and there that you wouldn't let him treat you like a child. He wasn’t your dad. Thanks to him you barely speak to your dad. The only thought going through your mind at the time was ‘fuck him.’ Before you could delve into your thoughts any further, it started. His incessant pounding on the door. Again. Although, this time it was much more frantic, desperate. He was much louder with his pathetic pleas and whines, crying out “please don’t use that money!”, “Listen to me god damn it!”, “___ open the fucking door now!” But you stood your ground, ignoring him once again as you did for the past few days.

Just to escape the racket of his wails of desperation, you retreated to your room, slipping on one of his expensive balenciaga sweatshirts you kept for yourself and climbing into the cool blankets, burying yourself under the plush fabric and folding your pillow over your ears. You knew this would be the longest night of your life..

And you were correct, It was the longest night of your life. He never truly got the memo that you would not be coming out to communicate with him so he finally left at around 1:30 in the morning. You had slept horribly, tossing and turning as the aftermath of his cries and pleads left a print on your mind and tormented you at all hours of the night, you didn’t manage to get any real sleep until around eight and woke up a mere five hours later in a state of confusion. It was well past noon and yet it was silent, you had woken up of your own volition, not because of some crazy man outside of your apartment screaming like a banshee. In due time, you had come to the conclusion that he had finally given up and gone about his day without banging on his ex-girlfriend's apartment door like an idiot at all hours of the day.

This theory was almost set in your mind until you heard a knock. Groaning violently, you stared up at your ceiling, eyebrows furrowed as you erased that theory from the whiteboard in your cortex. Fully prepared to ignore the person at the door, you rolled over to your side until another knock was heard. This wasn’t him. This couldn’t be him. The knocks were way too soft, they lacked an element of urgency, desperation. They were simply just way too calm. So, you sat up, swinging your legs over and reluctantly standing up, before making your way into the living room to be greeted with another knock and a smooth male voice calling out. “Miss ___ ___?”

You glanced wearily though your peep hole to be met with a tall male, dressed in a blue and white uniform. “Looks like a cop. He called the fucking cops on me, shit.” you whispered to yourself, voice small as you held onto the door handle. Figuring it’d be worse to make him wait, you opened the door, being met with the warm, dimpled smile, of the decorated individual. “Yes, i”m ____” you respond, shoving your hands into the pockets of your sweatshirt and looking everywhere but him, which probably seems more suspicious than anything but you were too riddled with anxiety to care. The officer clutched a navy blue manilla folder in his hand and opened it promptly in order to sift through its contents.

“Hi, i’m officer Kim.” he breathed out, calmly bowing and resuming his apparent spiel, “do you know this man?” he pondered, raising an eyebrow quizzically as he pulled a photo from his folder with calloused fingers and lifted it, spinning it around to face you. Your eyes widened slightly upon being shown a picture of your ex and you nodded hesitantly.

“He’s my ex boyfriend- well ex fiance I guess.” you responded, voice barely audible as your mind raced faster than the speed of sound. You asked yourself what he could’ve done that was bad enough for the police to show up at your door. Maybe you had been too harsh on him and he had gotten into one to many bar fights, maybe he robbed a bank at gunpoint, maybe he stole some old lady’s car and filled it with off brand mayonnaise before he returned it. All your questions- all your thoughts stopped as Officer Kim responded, running a tired hand through his hair.

“He passed, earlier today.” he paused, giving you time to digest things and you froze, staring at his face blankly as your mind processed what you had just been told and you hummed questioningly, your throat becoming tight with realization. “It happened around five this morning,” he paused again as you stood in complete silence. Sure you hated him but you’d never wish death upon another person, especially him. You hate him now but you were in love with him once too. You hate him now but, he was the closest person in your life. He was all of your firsts, your fiance, your best friend. You thought you wouldn’t be able to get all of that back because of the breakup but now you truly can never get any of it back, because he’s dead. Then, you started to cry, for the hundredth time this week but this one was different. You weren’t crying because you missed him, or wanted him to come back like all the other times, as horrible as it sounds. You were crying because you felt bad. Because of his short life that was ripped from him by the unforgiving hand of death. You weren’t crying because of him, you were crying for him. A hand on your shoulder interrupted your sobs and you wiped your face, glancing up at the culprit with glassy eyes. “I’m so sorry for your loss...” he paused, giving you a few moments to breathe as he rubbed your shoulder comfortingly before speaking again, “but we have an idea of who did it, it would be helpful if you just came down to the station with me for some questioning.” he asked softly as the shaking sobs and whimpers that came from your body slowed to a halt and you nodded.

“Yeah, uh. Let me just go get dressed.” You muttered, smiling up at him softly and shuffling back to your room to prepare. The longest night of your life was about to turn into the longest day.

And you were correct again as you stood in front of your apartment door after the absolute, and I cannot stress this enough, longest day of your life. Your ex was murdered, brutally, and they made sure to go over all of the gory details with you while you were at the precinct, they even took you to see his body, which made you cry because it was mangled almost beyond recognition and you were horrified. Apparently, he had been tortured for hours, which explained all the bruises, gashes, and burn marks on his body, strangled, thus the huge ring shaped mark around his neck, and dumped into a river, which made his body all pruny and wrinkled. You had spent 10 long hours at the police precinct and it was now nearing midnight as you fished your keys from your pocket in order to unlock the door. Inserting your key, you jiggle it around in the lock for a minute before realizing it was already unlocked initially. Figuring you had left it unlocked accidentally in your depressed haze, you pushed your way into your apartment and locked it promptly, pressing your forehead into the cool wood of the door. You sighed softly, relaxing only for a minute as you absorbed your surroundings before freezing as you heard the rhythmic tapping of someone's foot.

“Long day huh?” the voice was deep, one you hadn’t heard before as you remained facing the door, your grip of the handle tightening until your knuckles turned white. He spoke again, “you must be ____.” he murmured softly, sending a terrified shudder down your spine. “I’ve been wanting to meet you but he said you were off limits. You know, he talks about you a lot-...” he stopped himself as if realizing something, “well talked, I mean.” the man mused, an ominous chuckle flowing from his mouth.

“Who are you?” you rasped, attempting to conceal any cowardice but blinking your eyes harshly as your voice broke. You vaguely hoped this was one of your ex’s friends coming to visit, at an odd hour of the night, sitting ominously in the dark of your apartment waiting for you to come home just to say hi but the chances of that actuality was very slim.

“None of your business” the man retorted, a smirk evident in his ominous tone. “Now, let’s get down to business little dove,” you furrowed your brows at the nickname. You had never been called a nickname, especially by a man who randomly just snuck into your apartment one night. Your ex only ever called you baby or babe so little dove was different for you. It seemed endearing in the worst type of way. “I want the rest of my money.” he paused, “I found half of it in a closet here, and he said you might know where the rest is.” he paused again, only this time a sound is heard, a metal rattling of some sort that ricochets off of the walls of the apartment like a stray jumping bean in a pill case. Then it hits you, he has a gun, and he just shook it as if he intends to use it. . “Don’t make me ask again sweetheart.” Your eyes widen and well up as your head falls down, knowing you're going to die today and you take a deep breath, telling yourself you’d be ready for whatever happens so you decide, if you’re gonna die, you should at least know the name of the man that’s gonna kill you so you scrape together every last drop of confidence you can muster and ask once more.

“I said, w-who are yo-” you choked out, in an attempt to hold onto the last shred of your dignity as you blinked back the tears threatening to fall from your glassy eyes. However, your small shred of confidence is promptly ripped from your grasp as the man cuts you off mid sentence, slamming his gun down onto a hard surface with a loud clatter. You jolt, crying out softly as the tears you’d been holding back with all your might fall onto the ground before you.

“I said none of your fucking business bitch where’s my fucking money.” he spat, his sinister tone draing a choked sob from your thoat as you realized, you wouldn’t be getting anything you wanted today. “Answer me” he said, alarmingly calm as the sound of him cocking his gun travels directly to your mind.

“I spent it” you muttered between your soft hiccups and stiffened slightly upon hearing a heavy footstep approach you, then another footstep, and another, and another until they cease, and you can feel the man's warm breath raising the hair on the back of your neck. All your readiness for whatever happens and willingness to die flies out of the window as you lean your head on the door once more, taking a shaky breath as you begin to plead, aware of how pathetic you sound and part of the reason why you have such a strong urge to cry harder. “Please don’t kill me” you whined desperately as you feel the cold metal of the gun barrel resting on your shoulder.

“Relax little dove” he whispered, his lips brushing the back of your ear and sending a chill rushing through the entire expanse of your body. “Just find a way to pay me back and we’re even,” he continued calmly, his raspy voice reverberating in your eardrums as you think through what he just said carefully. You gasp and sniffle, shaking your head softly and lifting it slowly from the wooden door frame.

“I-” you stopped, taking a deep breath and preparing yourself as much as you could for his response then opened your mouth to continue. “I don’t have that kind of money” you whispered hesitantly, shutting your eyes tightly, allowing nothing to escape but the numerous tears that fell to the ground in anticipation of his actions. There was an eerie silence as he contemplated your words before he abruptly turned away, lifting the gun from your shoulder and holstering it in the waistband of his jeans, causing you to let out a wavering breath you’d been holding that entire time. His hand traveled back up, taking refuge on your left shoulder as the other hand made its way up your right arm, the warmth setting your skin aflame and sending a shockwave of warmth coursing through your body.

“There is another way you could pay me back.” his velvet voice rasped, stressing the word ‘another’ in a way that you immediately understood his insinuation and you took a sharp intake of air, bracing yourself for what he was about to say next. But he didn’t say anything for a moment, letting his hands do the talking for him as he gripped your arms softly, using his hands to spin you around and face him. You whirled around, yelping in surprise but stopping when you were met with the most exquisite, carnivorous brown eyes you had ever seen in your life that were accompanied by full pink lips and a tousled bunch of fluffy black hair you just wanted to run your hands through. Even in the darkness of night, the moonlight streaming through the kitchen window illuminated the room enough for you to trail your eyes down his face and get a vivid idea of what he’d look like with illumination.

Yummy as fuck.

Your eyes began to wander down to his exposed collarbone and before they could travel any lower, his fingers roughly grabbed your chin, forcing your gaze upward until you met his borderline cannibalistic gaze, which crushed you into nothing. He cocked his head to the side, a mischievous glint in his eyes as the corner of his lips turn upward slightly. “He was always bragging about you… saying,” he speaks, his sultry tone lulling you into a state of compliance as he spoke, “you’re such a good fuck,” he continues, placing his left hand gently on your waist and stepping even closer, if that’s possible, his soft breath hitting your face with every word as he speaks. “Your sweet little cunt is so tight” he glances down at your lips, running his thumb over your bottom lip “your mouth feels like heaven” he pauses again, running his hand down to hold the side of your neck softly to which you gasp “maybe i’d like a demonstration little dove.” he smiles, a twisted horrifying smile that snaps you out of his seductive trance and back to reality as your eyes widen and you pull yourself quickly out of his hold, running over to the couch and bracing yourself on it.

“No” you cry out, out of breath for some reason as you swallow thickly and shake your head. “No, I'll find a way to pay you back, I promise.” you plead, praying he wasn’t going to kill you on the spot and that he hadn’t noticed your blatant ogling. He probably did but at this point you didn’t care, you just wanted him gone.

“Whatever you say sweetheart” he replied, emitting a dark chuckle “call me if you change your mind, my number’s in your phone” he opened the front door and you glanced back at him, noticing the way his all black attire contrasts with his tan skin, and most of all, you notice the full sleeve of tattoos that ran down his right arm. Heat crawled up to your face as you realized you were gawking again and you nodded in response, feeling unable to form the words to respond with. He only uttered the words “you have a week.” before the door slammed and you were left alone in the dark.

You ran your fingers along the side of your neck where the aftermath of his touch lingered like a searing residue. No one had ever touched you like that, especially your ex. He was the man that took your virginity and was the man there for every time after so you’d become accustomed to his textbook missionary vanilla sex that left you touch starved and unfinished every. single. time. But you’d finish yourself off each time, feeling bad because you thought he was trying his hardest and truly didn’t understand how to please women. But as time went on, you realized he didn’t care about your pleasure and too enveloped in his own release to ever worry about your needs, but were too deep in love with him to care.

Your thoughts were interrupted when your phone went off to signal a text and upon picking it up there were two text messages from an unknown number that sent a shiver down your spine which read.

+82 2 5284 8735 : don’t try to run

+82 2 5284 8735 : we’ll hunt you down little dove

“Can’t you just take the shit back?” You questioned frantically, clutching the phone by your head until your knuckles turned white, rolling your eyes tiredly when you got no response. “They hung up, great” you deadpanned, plopping onto the couch you had been pacing in front of. It has been 6 days since the man showed up and you were running out of time and hadn’t slept in two days, your mind running frantically with the thought of him coming back to see you nearly empty handed. Well, not exactly empty handed. You had managed to get 253k of the whopping +400k dollars you had spent of his money and after not being able to return the car, manicure, hair appointment, rent, and a bunch of clothes and shoes, you were manic. Some might even say a bit crazy. Many of the stores and the dealership knew you by name because of the amount of times you called them. You dropped your phone into your lap, burying your face in your hands and wishing someone was here to console you through this but the only person you knew even remotely enough to offer any consolation was your ex. You wish he was alive so you could punch that bitch in the face and ask him what kind of shit he got himself into because the man that paid you a visit was most definitely not from corporate.

You sat for a silent minute deliberating if you should text the mystery man and take him up on his offer. You had asked yourself, is it really worth your life? Were you really going to die because you didn’t want to sleep with the hot guy you stole money from? The answer at first was yes because you still had your pride intact then but now, you had been starting to second guess your confidence in getting all the money back. After all, the deadline is tomorrow. You still had your hesitations, the only man who has ever seen you in such a lewd nature was your ex. You didn’t know if you were ready for sex with another person, even if he was the hottest man you’d ever seen. But, against your better nature, you convinced yourself that your ex was gone and this was bound to happen sooner or later, so why not sooner?

You grabbed your phone in earnest before anything inside you could convince you to stop and unlocked it, opening the messages for his number and typing out your text, hitting send before any sort of regret had the chance to sink in.

me : i’ll take your offer

me : this is ____ btw

You placed your phone down on the couch cushions beside you and chewed nervously on the not so fresh manicure that was still on your nails. To your surprise, his reply came in quickly and you frantically reached for your phone as the dings came rolling in.

+82 2 5284 8735 : i know who you are

+82 2 5284 8735 : i'll be there in 20

+82 2 5284 8735 : be ready sweetheart

Your heart thumped restlessly as you shot up from your seat shouting “twenty minutes?!” and you cried out nervously. You hadn’t even seen his face in good lighting and you didn't know his name so you’d basically be fucking a complete stranger which scared you enough as it is but the fact that that stranger held you at gunpoint merely a week prior is what scared you shitless.

In the limited time that he gave you, you decided to freshen up a bit so you hopped in the shower. Your first shower in a few days after your psychotic state worsened. Humming in bliss, you relished in the feeling of the scalding water flowing over your skin as you took your time washing , shaving, and singing, in an attempt to rid yourself of the horrendous nerves that overtook your senses. After reluctantly stepping out of the steamy oasis, you’d decided on a white lingerie set you had gotten yourself for christmas but never got to wear for anyone because your significant other was always “working” or too tired/busy to take the time of day for you. Pairing the set with a matching white silk robe and not bothering to wear any shoes because you’re in your own house, you slicked your lips in a thick coat of gloss and applied some mascara and eyeliner to your tired eyes just to spruce up a bit. You figured, if you put effort into your appearance, then maybe he’d spare your life after the sex. You stared at yourself in the mirror, tying your robe, smacking your glossed lips together and ogling your appearance before a soft knocking was heard from the living room. “He’s here” you told yourself with a deep shaky breath as you vacated the bathroom and slowly ventured toward the door.

You stood silently before the front door, contemplating whether this was a mistake or if it was too late to turn back. As much as you hated to admit, there was no logical solution to your problem that was in compliance with any standing laws. Heck, what you were doing was probably illegal in everywhere but Las Vegas so you had no other choice than to twist the handle, open the door and stare up at the most alluring man you had ever laid eyes on. You ran your eyes all over his body, studying him, his features, his gorgeous eyes, impeccable nose, plush lips, smooth hair, and strong arms that lead to a presumed strong chest hidden under his plain white tee. He noticed you blatantly checking him out to which he placed a finger on your chin, lifting your face up so your eyes met and making you watch as he rolled his bottom lip into his mouth, sucking on it for a moment. Oh how you wished that was your lip.

“You ready little dove?” he asked, his tone seductive and smooth like chocolate as he walked closer to you, closing the door behind him and backing you up until you stood patiently before the couch staring up at him, a wistful glint in your eyes as you nodded. He reached up, using a finger to push your robe off of your right shoulder and cocking his head quizzically. “All dressed up just for me?” he pondered, his eyes trained on the white lace peeking out from under the robe. You nodded, to which he gripped your chin roughly, furrowing his eyebrows at your response. “Use your words sweetheart” he warned, loosening his grip so you could speak in affirmation.

“Yes…” your voice trailed off, thinking of what to call him, as you still didn’t know his name, so you addressed him as you would any man you didn’t know, “yes, sir. I dressed up just for you” you concluded, your voice barely greater than a whisper as the corners of his lips turned up. He let out an animalistic growl at the name you gave for him, obviously satisfied and moved his hand from your chin to grip the back of your neck promptly.

“It’s Jungkook, but sir will do nicely” he basically growled before latching onto your lips with carnal aggressiveness. You whined heartily into his mouth as his tongue slipped deftly into yours and intertwined with yours, causing your mind to fall into a haze as he coiled his arm around your waist, bringing your body flush against his toned frame. You reached up with shaky hands, fumbling with his shirt, eager to get it off of him and gaze upon the expanse of his abdomen. His lips detached for a moment, giving you the chance to pull his shirt over his head, which he gladly obliged and lifted his hands over his head, swiftly resuming their positions when his shirt formed a pile on the floor beside you. You leaned back in, attempting to capture his lips in another phenomenal kiss but he pulled back, leaving you to chase him and whine when you ultimately lose, to which he laughs mischievously, taking his hands off of your body and toying with the silk tie on the front of your robe.

“How do you want it baby?” he pondered, the new nickname sending shivers down your spine as you glanced at him quizzically, as if asking what he meant. He chuckled softly, tugging at the ribbon and opening your robe as he brought his hands up, carefully sliding it down your arms and bending down so his face was level with your collarbone. He placed a gentle kiss there, leaving fire in the wake of his lips as he spoke, his breath cooling the seared flesh, “would you like me to be gentle?” he asked leaving more hot kisses along the expanse of your shoulder and neck, drawing salacious sounds from your parted lips as he brought his hand up to rest at the base of your neck. “Or…” he paused, sliding his hand up and increasing the intensity of his grip on your throat, restricting the blood flow to your brain as your mind became hazy and your eyes rolled into the back of your head. “Do you want me to be rough?” he continued, lifting his head to watch your face as he loosened his grip. “It’s your choice little dove.”

You were elated, ecstatic and a little disappointed when he loosened his grip on your neck. Your ex was always into sex that lindered toward the vanilla side, as mentioned before, so he would never think to try anything like choking, which always intrigued you just a little bit. You wished you would have experienced other styles of love before you met him but you didn't, and this was your chance to try them out now. Your fingers travelled up, lightly grazing over that hand that was tightly wrapped around your neck. Whining quietly you rolled your bottom lip between your teeth, biting it softly as your other hand came up and wrapped around Jungkook’s forearm.

“I wanna try it rough” you mumbled, eyes closing as you relished in the hazy feeling this restriction gave you which only heightened as he tightened his grip.

“Perfect.” he groaned out almost inaudibly as he pulled your face to his, colliding your lips in the roughest, most passion filled kiss you’d ever experienced. He devoured your mouth with gluttonous amusement, his grip on your airway never wavering for a moment as he tongued you down, his carnal need prevalent and present in the thick air of the room. You reached up, completing a task you’d been wanting to do for days, tangling your hand in the messy black mass that fell upon his head, and relishing in the soft feeling of his waves. Then he detached from your lips and moved away, forcing your hands to fall from his hair and onto his broad shoulders, which, while pleasurable to touch, didn’t even come close to frolicking your fingers through his locks. He moved his hand from your neck to your shoulder, to which you whined with a small pout, missing the new contact as he chuckled at your eagerness. He stared at your lips, before leaning down and capturing your bottom lip between his teeth, biting down on it voraciously before he spoke. “Do you want me to put this slutty little mouth of yours to use little dove?” he asked, pulling back as if waiting for an answer, to which you obliged.

“Yes sir” You answered quite honestly in fact, as you felt all your hesitation and weariness about this task slip away. “Please put my mouth to use.” you pleaded, staring up at him, a wanton expression on your soft features.

“You’re so good for me .” he whispered, his soft breath fanning your face as you nodded in agreement, “such an obedient little dove, hmm?” he asked, to which you nodded once again, a bit more frantically this time as you awaited his cue. He used the hand on your shoulder to abruptly push you down with a small yelp so you were seated on the black leather couch behind you, the colder leather contrasting the burning lust in your entire body as you looked up at him. “Get to work slut.” Your eyes widened at the name. Maybe it was supposed to be an insult or he just liked calling you that but you couldn’t help the gargantuan wave of slick that coated your panties at the moment.

You looked down, a bit above eye level with his crotch as you reached up to palm him through his faded blue jeans. His scent was tantalizing, musky, and you couldn't get enough as you stared up at him through your eyelashes, your lips slightly parted as you gazed in awe. He gave you a warning glance, as if scolding you for teasing him for this long and you unzipped his pants. He held out his hand, as if to stop you before reaching behind his pants and pulling his gun from the back of his jeans. Your eyes widened, gaze now trained on the firearm in his hand, a horrified expression on your face as you ceased all actions. Which he noticed, peering down at you, a horrifying smile etched on his godlike features as he opened his mouth to speak.

“Relax darling, I won’t kill you,” he purred, reaching down and weaving the fingers of his free hand into the roots of your hair, grabbing and pulling back roughly so you have no other choice but to meet his dark eyes. “We’re only just getting started.” he lowered the gun, pressing the muzzle into the underside of your jaw, the cold metal like ice against your scalding skin. However, you felt no need to cry, felt no need to fear for your life even as this gun was pressed to your neck, aimed to kill, because you knew he wouldn’t do it. Through the dark facade and ominous gaze in his eyes there was something else that made you trust his inability to kill you. You realized you were enjoying the thrill, the excitement of putting your life in his hands. So, you did what any crazy bitch would do in this situation, you breathed out deeply, relaxing your shoulders and slouching yourself down to push your neck further onto the tip of the gun with a mischievous smile. Jungkook stared down at you in awe, running his tongue on the inside of his cheek and taking his gun off of your neck before tossing it over to the end of the couch behind you.

Resuming your actions with a shaky breath, you tugged his pants down until they fell to his ankles and placed your hands on the sides of his underwear clad hips. You might’ve been inexperienced in his style of fucking but you sure knew how to give a good blowjob, so you got to work, placing open mouthed kisses to his clothed appendage. You looked up at him once more seeing the lust clouded haze that filled his deep brown eyes. After a bit of teasing, you hooked your fingers in the waistband of his underwear, pulling it down in a seductively slow manner as you allowed his needy cock to spring free, and you stared up at it with a gasp.

It was huge.

You didn’t really know what qualifies as huge because the only dick you’ve ever had was around 6 inches on a good day but this alluring appendage swinging before your face had to be at least 9 inches long and you wondered how the fuck you were going to fit it all in your mouth let alone your pussy, which was already aching for it. Your mouth involuntarily opened wider in anticipation of his delicious dick inside and you grabbed the base, with two hands, drawing a hiss from the man that stood over you as he kicked off his shoes and the rest of the clothing that pooled around his feet. You licked teasingly up the sides of his dick, stopping at the tip to swirl your tongue around it, and catching some salty precum when you did. You glanced up at him and he looked absolutely furious in the best sort of way. Frustrated to the max as you teased him mercilessly, only spending meere fleeting moments at the spots which needed the most attention.

Then he snapped, taking you by surprise and using his hand that was still tangled in your hair to hold you still while he shoved his cock in your mouth. You tried to gasp but it merely came out as a small strangled whimper that was cut off as his length reached that back of your throat. You moved your hands to the sides of his hips once again, bracing yourself as he slowly pulled his member out of your mouth, most likely winding up for another thrust. He propelled his hips forward once again, stuffing not nearly all of his cock into your mouth, as his tip grazed the back of your throat. The feeling of him completely filling your mouth had you livid, your eyes rolling to the back of your head as you moaned, the vibrations reverberating onto his appendage which drew a salacious moan from his plush parted pink lips.

“Fuck, your mouth feels like heaven.” he moaned out, then he started to fuck your face, tears pooling in your eyes while his dick basically hit the back of your throat with every harsh stroke of his hips as he gripped on your hair tighter. After one particularly hard thrust, he held his length down your throat as tears rolled down your cheeks and you gagged around him. He took his cock out of your mouth, to which you gasped, swallowing the spit that pooled in your mouth with an aroused groan.

“Tastes so good.” you mumbled, not possibly being able to get enough as he shoved his cock back into your mouth and fucked your throat relentlessly. The tension building in you was too much to bear and your need to cum only heightened as his actions resumed. You arched your back slightly, pushing your clothed clit into the black leather cushions of the couch as you gyrated into it slowly, praying he wouldn’t notice and would be too invested in fucking your throat to realize.

You were wrong. He noticed immediately.

He halted all movements, taking his cock from your throat and grabbing your neck harshly, to which you gasped, whimpering as he pulled you up to stand in front of him, cock slapping the front of your body as you stared at his face in anticipation of his actions. You could imagine what you looked like right now swollen glossy lips, and tear stains running down your face because you didn’t bother to wear your waterproof mascara. You never needed it any other time so you figured why would you need it now. Oh how wrong you were.

“Dirty little dove, trying to get off on the couch because you want me that bad?” he rasped, nearing closer to your face with each word and you nodded frantically, basically begging him to do something, anything. “Words” he barked, drawing a cry from your lips as you thought of what to say.

“I want your cock, please sir.” you begged, before he groaned hungrily and captured your lips in a ravenous kiss, taking you by surprise. No one had ever kissed you after they’d fucked your throat before so why would he do it. You didn’t dwell on that thought for too long before melting into his touch and wrapping your arms around his neck. Jungkook took his free hand, trailing it around your body to unclasp the back of your bra, your eyes going wide at the skillful ease of his fingers. He snatched the white lace clothing off of your frame, tossing it to the other side of the room and reaching back up to cup one of your soft breasts in his hand, flicking the nipple with his index finger and making you sigh satisfactorily into his mouth. He leaned forward, taking you with him as he lowered both of you back onto the couch, settling himself between your newly opened legs and never breaking the kiss. He unlatched his hand from your neck, trailing it down your body as the other hand continued to knead your breast skillfully. His burning touch slowly ventured further and further down your abdomen until he reached the band of your panties and abruptly tore the thin while lace from your body to your dismay and discarding it on the floor beside him. You whined sadly, as those had been your favorite pair of underwear but barely had any sort of time to grieve as you felt two rough fingers dip into the wetness of your slit, trailing them up and stopping right over the spot you needed him to be at, pulling a moan from your still swollen lips.

He began kissing a trail down your body, stopping for a mere moment to suck on the pert bud of your free breast before resuming his path of destruction. He moved his hands to settle on the inner sides of your thighs, spreading them apart and sighing as he got a glimpse of the treasure between them. Your eyes widened upon realizing his destination as you scooched away, holding a handful of his tousled black hair in an attempt to grab his attention.

“I-…” you paused, chewing on your bottom lip and thinking of how to word your statement. “i’ve never asked anyone to do that for me before, so y- you don’t have to do it.” you stuttered wearily as the nerves set in. No one’s face had ever been remotely close to your womanhood and the thought of it sent a chill down your spine as you released his hair from your grasp. You wondered what it would even be like. He glanced up at you, eyes dilated as he chuckled, a dark chuckle that made you shiver as he tightened his grip on your thighs, yanking you closer to his face and taking a deep drag of your scent once you were close enough.

“Oh baby I want to” he basically moaned out, licking his lips and glancing down at your glistening slit, the corners of his lips turning up in a hungry smile. You raised an eyebrow, asking yourself ‘why the fuck would he want to do that?’, and ‘isn’t this for my pleasure?’, but all your concerns were answered once he spoke again. “I can’t wait to make you writhe on my tongue little dove” he muttered, causing your cheeks to burn with the intensity of a thousand suns as he talked into your soaking entrance. “... make you beg and cry without even using my cock.” he continued, releasing your left thigh from his grip as he placed a hand on your pubic mound, lowering his thumb and slowly beginning to circle your clit eliciting a loud wail from you. “You think, if I had the power to turn you into a messy little whore all for me just by using my mouth, I wouldn’t use it at any chance I could?” He asked and you whined, nodding as your hips stuttered up in desperate need of more friction. “It’s all about power baby, and I have it all here” he groaned, watching you clench pathetic around nothing.

Then, he finally gave you what you wanted. His hand resumed its grip on your thigh, forcing it away from the other as his thumb was swiftly replaced by his warm tongue licking up and down your wet sex. You moaned, placing your shaky hands on the mounds of your chest, toying with your nipples just to add to the pleasurable sensations he was creating with his tongue. This feeling was unlike any ecstasy you had ever felt and you never wanted it to stop. His tongue slipped deftly into your soaked entrance twisting and turning skillfully as you keened loudly. His warm wet appendage swirling around your wet cavern was the best feeling in the entire world and you knew if he continued ravaging you at this pace, you’d cum in no time. But, you needed this release. You needed to let go of all this pent up sexual frustration you didn’t even know you harbored. You needed to experience your first orgasm in months, if not years, that wasn’t self inflicted and you hoped and prayed with all your heart that it would come soon.

He switched his focus,, moving his tongue up to play with your aching clit and slipping two fingers into your formerly empty hole with a deep groan that reverberated through your core like a powerful vibrator which only intensified your moans and cries of pleasure. You looked down on yourself to see the delicious sight of him devouring your cunt ruthlessly, the sight alone almost tipping you over the edge as you brought your hands up, covering your eyes while you neared completion.

“Jungkook you’re gonna make me cum.” you called out, an exasperated cry leaving your lips when your impending orgasm was painfully ripped away from you as all his motion stopped. You uncovered your eyes, about to stare down when your body jolted, a harsh sting being felt directly on your clit, sending a wave of warmth barreling through your entire body. Then you understood, he slapped you, and you peered down at him, your eyes glassy due to the orgasm that was ripped from your grasp.

“Who? said you can cum.” he deadpanned menacingly, staring up at you through hooded eyes as you leaned your head back tiredly, realizing the error in your words and prepared to beg, just like he said you would.

“Sir” you cried, holding your arms limply over your head as you continued to plead. “Sir please, please make me cum.” you begged mercilessly, a tear of relief sliding down your cheek as he resumed his assault on your core, attacking at a steady pace and retrieving the all too familiar knot that formed in the pit of your stomach. You reached up, grabbing the edge of the couch with an iron grip, your knuckles turning white as your hips began circling on his face, your clit rubbing against his tongue with every movement and venturing you closer to your sweet release.”Please don’t stop sir, oh my god” you whined loudly, fucking his face relentlessly as you chased your high, nearing it more and more with each thrust of your hips until he finally pushed you off the brink of ecstasy, a scream leaving your lips as Jungkook continued his unrelenting attack on your pained pussy.

You rode out your high, writhing and panting before him, his pace never faltering, his fingers never slowing, his tongue never relenting and it soon became too much. The euphoric delirium quickly turned into madness as you barreled down the path into overstimulation. You wailed pathetically, thrashing under his hold as the pleasurable pain consumed your body and you could barely form a coherent sentence but you persevered, scraping all the coherent thoughts you could muster and turning them into tangible words that sat on the tip of your tongue, ready to be spoken. “Sir please, it's too much!” you cried to which Jungkook finally let up, slowing his pace to a halt and sitting back.

“Oh my god that was so fucking hot” he growled before sucking on his glossy fingers and cleaning around his mouth with his skilled tongue as he gazed amusedly upon your exhausted body. But he was nowhere near done with you. This fact made apparent when he stood and wrapped an arm around your hip, lifting your limp body and turning you over with ease, positioning you so your face was pressed into the now warm couch cushion and your ass was raised high into the air before him. His eyes rolled at the view of your swollen cunt bent over for him and he gave it a light smack, eliciting a pained, but tired yelp from you as he chuckled muttering “you’re going to drive me crazy little dove.” under his breath.

He crouched down, coming face to lips with your abused cunt as he wrapped his arms around your bent bottom, lacing his fingers together as they rested at the arch of your back and dragging his nose up the tortured path of your slit, drawing whines and cries of overstimulation from your wiggling frame as you tried to get away from the punishing menace that was his face. “No, please. I can't take anymore, it's too much.” You whimpered, your voice muffled as you leaned your face into the couch tiredly to which he obliged, reluctantly, as he stood, grabbing his neglected dick in hand and pointing it toward your pink entrance.

“I can’t wait to stretch your pretty little pussy ____.” he purred and you moaned at the sound of your name slipping off of his tongue like the creamiest butter. He dragged his tip along your swollen clit, abusing it again for what seemed like the millionth time that day as he covered his girth in your slick, a guttural groan emitting from the back of his throat. Then, abruptly, he sunk into your slippery cavern, barely all the way in but you’d never felt so full in your entire life as he pushed forward slowly, filling you up and providing you with the most delicious stretch you’d ever felt. Your eyes rolled into the back of your head as you whined, a desperate whine that you could barely register was your own voice as he pushed his length completely inside of you, his head falling back and your name, rolling off of his tongue once again.

After barely giving you time to adjust to his alarming size, he reeled his hips back before slamming into you again, and again, and again, over and over again until he was fucking you at an unrelenting speed you barely knew was possible to achieve. Suffering from the overwhelming pleasure he forced you to endure, you shut your eyes tight, crying out in strangled indulgence as you grasped onto the fluffy throw blanket strewn lazily over the couch in front of you. You relished in the sting of his girth, staring ahead blankly with glassy eyes as he rammed into you with a punishing speed and black mascara filled tears streamed down your cheeks.

You knew you were about to cum soon, again, only due to the all too familiar feeling accumulating in the pit of your belly. Jungkook reached down, placing a hand on your shoulder blade and pressing your chest further into the couch while he drilled into you, moaning and cursing at the feeling of you flexing deliciously around his cock. He felt you were close, so he moved his hand, snaking it around your waist and trailing his other hand to assume its position around your neck, hoisting you up so your back was arched against his abdomen and you had no choice but to stare up at him as he talked down on you, never slowing the snapping of his hips for a wavering moment.

“You’ve never been fucked this good have you?” he teased through clenched teeth as he leaned down, sucking and marking all over the expanse of your neck with grunts and growls of pleasure. You were way too fucked out to even think about the words to form a coherent sentence, barely being able to form whimpered versions of ‘mhm’ after he questioned you but he was having none of that. He unraveled his hand from your waist, tightening his grip on your throat and landing a hard slap to your left asscheek, drawing a shrill shriek from the depths of your throat as he warned in your ear. “Words little dove” he slapped you again, “how many times do I have to fucking warn you.” he concluded, landing another harsh smack to your abused flesh as you whimpered.

“You’re the best I’ve ever had, I’m such a slut for you sir.” You sobbed out, “please let me cum, please fuck” you whined, drawing out your words and you reached back, tangling both hands in his unruly mop of hair as he split you open, moaning directly in your ear which in itself, was a thing that could make you cum on the spot.

“Cum then.” He said obviously, as if it was the most simple response, only it was this simple command that shoved you off the precipice of ecstasy for a second time. The feeling that bloomed deep in your stomach soon blossomed into a full blown orgasm that racked through your body quickly, leaving nothing but white hot pleasure in its wake as your legs trembled viciously, with one last loud cry of Jungkook’s name. But, he still did not falter, his pace quickening as he neared his own climax, the speed both too much and not nearly enough at the same time. You reached back, attempting to push him and escape the all consuming pleasure torturing your body like a blazing fire but your hands were caught quickly by Jungkook’s hands which crossed them tightly and held them behind your back, resuming his attack.

You shook your head, letting it hang as your tears fell freely onto the couch before you, his moans and groans of ecstasy increasing in volume and frequency as he neared his own climax, his hips faltering in their pace for the first time in a while as he worked to his own release. In what seemed like an instant, he released the most beautiful, salacious, strangled moan you had ever heard, pulling himself out of your soaked cunt, and painting the surface of your ass with his white hot ropes of cum. He finally let you go after a moment, watching as you fell limply to the couch, laying face down, panting exhaustively, your arms still crossed limply behind your back as he smirked down at your fucked out frame. He left you alone for just a bit, coming back but a few moments later before you felt the sore skin of your asscheeks being wiped off with what felt like a warm hand towel. You were relieved he had the respect to clean his mess, it made you respect him just a little bit more as a person but you were way too tired to dwell on the subject any longer.

“You did so good for me little dove” he cooed, his voice softer than you’d ever heard it as he placed a sweet chaste kiss on your lower back, caressing his hand up the side of your body. A simple touch that lacked any sort of sexual aspects, it felt comforting and you sighed, leaning further into the soft couch as you heard him begin to put his clothing on. You felt a pang of distress, seeing as you were more of a fuck and cuddle kind of girl, but you really hadn’t expected him to stay so why’d you feel the need to ask him to. Pushing the feeling deep inside your gut, you sighed deeply as he walked in front of you to bend forward and grab his gun that laid discarded on the opposite side of your couch, also grabbing the throw blanket beside it and tossing it over your naked frame before thinking about something. “So,” he started, tucking his gun in the back of his pants and humming, “I’m thinking that was worth about, hmm 50k” he started. You vaguely understood what he was saying and knew you’d flip out once you were conscious enough to truly comprehend his words. “I’ll keep in touch.” He said, pulling his shirt down and smiling deviously at you as you uttered a hoarse ‘huh?’ To which he answered simply, “if I wanna come collect some more money” and he spun on his heels, opening your door and sauntering out of the threshold.

When he got into the hallway, Jungkook burst into a wide smile, satisfied with the encounter he made today. He entered this agreement fully prepared to either fuck you once and take the money you’d earned back or just fuck you and kill you, but once he’d had a taste, he was insatiable. You were flawless, your compliance was impeccable. The way you obeyed him, begged for him, the way you tasted, the way you felt, the way you looked. There was no way he could ever get enough and is probably the reason he kept overstimulating you like a frat boy with a bruised ego. There was no way he was gonna just let go of an absolute gem like you, so he made his excuse, a plan. Everytime you fuck him, you pay back a portion of the money. He was so tempted to tell you this session was only worth $100 just as an excuse to come back over and over and over until he had his fill, but he kept his composure, giving you hope that you’d ever be free of his grasp. Jungkook for once was extremely ecstatic, elated, excited to ruin you even more than he already had and he was dead set on making you want him just as much as he craved you no matter what it took. Though he was pretty sure you already did.

#bts #bts smut #bts fic #jeon jungguk #jungkook #jungkook smut #jungkook fic #oneshot #mafia!bts #mafia!jungkook #jungkook x reader #jungkook x you #jungkook x y/n #bts angst #mafia au #GUNPLAYHAHAHA #IM SUPER EFFED UP #this took sooooo long

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aion-rsa · 3 years

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Scarface’s Tony Montana vs. Michael Corleone: Which Al Pacino is the Boss of Bosses

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Scarface hadn’t been made when Pete Townshend’s 1974 song “The Punk and the Godfather” came out, but The Godfather certainly had. The Who’s anthem was a musical allegory about the rock scene, but the lyrics might as well be interpreted as a conversation between Michael Corleone and Tony Montana. Possibly right before they rumble.

Al Pacino played both men in both movies, and in each film, he begins the story as a punk. But in The Godfather, at least, he grows into the establishment. Michael becomes don. Tony was a shooting star on the other hand, one on a collision course with an unyielding atmosphere. Both roles are smorgasbords of possibilities to an actor, especially one who chased Richard III to every imaginable outcome. Each are also master criminals. But which is more masterful?

The obvious answer would seem to be Michael Corleone because he turned a criminal empire into a multi-billion-dollar international business, and lived to a ripe old age to regret it. Cent’anni, Michael. Tony Montana doesn’t live to see the fruits of his labor, but his career in crime is littered with the successes of excess.

Montana is a hungry, young, loose cannon, just like real-life’s “Crazy” Joe Gallo, who went up against the Profaci family in the street fight which Mario Puzo and Francis Ford Coppola used as inspiration on The Godfather. Gallo stand-in Virgil “The Turk” Sollozzo (Al Lettieri) did a lot of damage while he was trying to muscle in on Don Vito Corleone’s territory, selling white powder. Montana leaves a larger body count in the wake of his cocaine empire career.

Scarface is Pacino’s film. The whole movie is about Tony Montana and his meteoric rise through money, power and women. The Godfather is a mob movie, crowded with top rate talent in an ensemble case, but it belongs to Marlon Brando. While Michael inherits the position by The Godfather, Part II, he shares Godfather roles with Robert De Niro there, and people come away feeling a little sorry for Fredo. Michael isn’t the focus of an entire film until The Godfather, Part III, and by then folks were only distracted by his daughter. Tony Montana owns the screen from the moment it opens until his last splash in the fountain under the “World Is Yours” sign. The picture was his.

Making Your Bones on First Kills

Pacino brings little of the wisdom of his Godfather role to Scarface’s title character. This is by design. Every crime boss has to make his bones. In mafia organizations, real and cinematic, the button men on the street are called soldiers. And every soldier has to go through basic training before they’re ready to earn their button. Michael gets assassination training from his father’s most trusted capo, Pete Clemenza (Richard S. Castellano) before he goes out to enjoy the veal.

Scarface doesn’t give us many details of the crimes Tony was involved in while still in Cuba, so he makes his cinematic bones executing General Emilio Rebenga in the American detention camp for Cuban refugees. The two scenes are polar opposites in all ways but suspense.

When Michael is sitting at the dinner table with Sollozzo and Police Captain McCluskey (Sterling Hayden), he lets Sollozzo do all the talking, easing him into comfort before pulling the trigger. Tony barely lets Rebenga get a whimper in during his first onscreen hit, which plays closer to an execution. Tony covers the sounds of his own attack with a chant he himself begins. It is a brilliant overplay, especially when compared to another scene that resembles The Godfather, with Tony killing a mid-level gangster and a crooked cop towards the end of Scarface.

A major difference between the two roles is best summed up in a line Tony says in Scarface. He learned to speak English by watching James Cagney and Humphrey Bogart. Montana comes from the Cagney tradition of broad gangster characterizations. In The Godfather, Kay Adams (Diane Keaton) asks Michael if he’d prefer Ingrid Bergman. The young soldier has to think about it. This is because Pacino is miles removed here from Bogart, who played Bergman’s lover in Casablanca. Pacino’s two gangster icons approached their criminality differently, and Pacino gets to play in both yards.

Pacino remains on an even keel in the Godfather films, but gives a tour de force of violent expression in Scarface, which burns like white heat.

The Handling of Enemies and Vices

In Scarface, Pacino gets to be almost as over the top as he is in Dick Tracy. His accent would never make it past the modern culture board at The Simpsons, but he pulls it off in 1983 because he says so. Pacino bullies the audience into believing it. It’s that exact arrogance which makes us root for Tony Montana. We don’t want to be on his bad side. But the chilled reptilian stare of Michael Corleone is a visual representation of why Sicilians prefer their revenge served cold.

Michael is diabetic, and is usually seen drinking water in The Godfather films. Sure, he has an occasional glass or red wine, and possibly some Sambuca with his espresso, but Michael always keeps a clear head. Tony, not so much. He makes drunken scenes at his favorite nightclubs, and not only gets high on his own supply, but gets so nose deep in it he develops godlike delusions of superheroic grandeur.

Montana is impulsive, instinctive, and decisive. Tony kills his best friend Manny Ribera (Steven Bauer) immediately upon finding him with his little sister Gina (Mary Elizabeth Mastrantonio). Michael waits until his sister Connie (Talia Shire) is on a plane to Tahoe before he has her husband killed in a hit years in the planning. Later Michael hangs his head silently as the shotgun blast which kills his brother, Fredo (John Cazale), echoes in the distance.

Tony, meanwhile, continues yelling at Sosa’s right-hand man long after his brains are all over the automobile’s interior.

Clothes Make the Man

Tony is written to be charismatic. Even coked out of his mind, he’d be a better fit in Vegas with Fredo’s crowd than with wet blanket Michael in Tahoe. Tony sports white suits, satin shirts, and designer sunglasses. Michael accessorizes three-piece ensembles with an ascot. This isn’t to say Michael had any issues with getting somebody’s brains splattered all over his Ivy League suit.

Designed by Theadora Van Runkle, Michael preferred dupioni silk. That’s smart. The dark navy wool chalk-stripe suit Tony wears in his death scene was designed by Tommy Velasco and carries the class of a tuxedo. It was after 6pm. What do you think he is, a farmer?

“I’m the guy in the sky, flying high, flashing eyes. No surprise I told lies, I’m the punk from the gutter,” Roger Daltrey belts out on “The Punk and The Godfather.” This is exactly against the no-flash advice Frank Lopez (Robert Loggia) tries to impart on his young protégé in Scarface. Tony was raised not to take any advice other than his own. He also ignores his consigliere’s advice on several occasions. When Manny reminds Tony the pair of them were in a cage a year ago, the rebel gangster says he’s trying to forget that, he’s going after the boss’ girl.

“I come from the gutter,” Montana proudly contends. “I know that. I got no education but that’s okay. I know the street, and I’m making all the right connections.”

By contrast, Michael attended Dartmouth College and then dropped out to join the Marines after the attack on Pearl Harbor. Michael is both intelligent and well-connected, loosely modeled on Joseph Bonanno and Vito Genovese. He also accepts the wisdom of his father, who most closely resembled “The Prime Minister” of New York’s Five Families in the 1950s, mafia boss Frank Costello.

The Better Family Man

Pacino’s Don Michael Corleone has access to all his family’s connections, stretching back to the old world. He learns to expertly pull the strings of powerful men, like his father did, but as he grew, he bent. Michael is friends with senators, meets with the President of Cuba, has money in the Vatican, and confesses his sins to a Pope. Michael was insulated throughout his childhood and criminal career. If Tony gets in trouble, he has to get out of it himself, or with the help of a handful of low-level operatives.

Michael is the family rebel, risking his life and getting medals for strangers. He also gets to be both the prodigal son and the dutiful son. He gets the fatted calf and pays the piper. He even tips the baker’s helper for the effort. Michael comes back to both of his families, crime and birth, with a vengeance. He is there for his father the moment he is needed. Michael is the better family man. Tony’s mother is ashamed of him, and he completely ruins his sister’s wedding. Michael’s family means everything to him, and while he still manages to lose them, he actually maneuvers his two families well over rough waters for a very long run.

Tony Montana is the rebel’s rebel. Even before he tosses off his bandana at the dishwasher job to make a quick score, we knew. He was born bad, in the cinematically good way. This also makes Montana a natural at crime. In The Godfather, Michael has it in his blood as a Corleone, but has his heart set on college, a straight career, and a shot to bring his whole family into the American Dream, which for Montana only exists as a wet dream.

Tony never gets past the hormonal teenage phase of his love of America. He wants to love his new country to death. He is turned on by the dream. He wants to take it. Not earn it. No foreplay necessary, as he claims his latest victim’s wife as his own.

Managerial Skills

Michael is pretty good with his underlings, when he’s not having them garroted on the way to an airport or advising them to slit their wrists in a bath. He promises Clemenza he can have his own family once the Corleones relocate to Las Vegas. He lets Joe Zaza (Joe Mantegna) get away with murder as the guy he sets up to run his old territory in The Godfather, Part III. Michael doesn’t keep turncoats like his trusted caporegime Tessio (Abe Vigoda) around for old times’ sake, and he doesn’t suffer fools at all. It may seem he cuts Tom Hayden (Robert Duvall) loose a little fast, and without warning or due cause. But if he was a wartime consigliere, he would have seen it coming.

While Tony Montana may have a competitive and fast-tracked entry program for new workers (“hey, you got a job”), he’s also the guy who shoots his right-hand man Manny for marrying his sister. Tony exacts a brutal and dangerous revenge for the death of his friend Angel Fernandez in the Miami chainsaw massacre, but doesn’t lift a finger when his cohort Omar Suarez (F. Murray Abraham) is hanged to death from a helicopter by drug lord Alejandro Sosa (Paul Shenar). Michael does have a tendency to have his soldato kiss his ring, but he’s not entirely a .95 caliber pezzonovante.

Movies

Scarface: Where Tony Montana Went Wrong

By Tony Sokol

Movies

The Godfather Coda: The Death of Michael Corleone Proves a Little Less is Infinitely More

By Tony Sokol

One of the most important skills a boss must exhibit is how to delegate, and Corleone is a minor Machiavellian master at his delegation. He whispers orders from behind closed doors. Tony is more hands-on. The only reason he tells Manny to “kill that piece of shit” Frank is because he’s already humiliated his former boss into a shell of a real man.

Montana is in the trenches with his soldiers and sets standards by example. He shoots a guy on a crowded Miami street in broad daylight. Montana is a born triggerman and only reluctantly delegates the duty. He has 10 bodyguards when Sosa men raid his mansion fortress. He takes the invading force with one little friend, an M16A1 rifle with a customized grenade launcher. But it sure doesn’t help the employees getting murdered outside.

A Handle on Finances

We don’t know what kinds of criminal activities the Corleone family were involved in between 1958 and 1979. Still, Michael had proven himself a traditionalist and a bit of a prude, so he spends most of his career shaving his take from harmless vices and avoiding drugs, which he sees as a dirty business. But through whatever means, by The Godfather, Part III, Michael has earned enough capital to buy himself out of crime.

Michael gambles successfully on Wall Street, keeps the Genco olive oil company going, and invests in hotels, casinos, and movie studios. He’s got to be pulling in a billion dollars a year in legitimate business. He makes enough to pad the coffers of the Vatican, and his share of Immobiliare stocks pulls in another $1 billion.

Tony looks like he’s earning about $15 million a month. But it doesn’t look like he puts much stock in his future. He makes no investments, only purchases. His only visible holding is the salon his sister works in. But we also have to take into account that he built his empire from scratch. Michael inherited his. And while the head of the Corleone family can blackmail a U.S. senator with a tragic sex scandal, Montana fares no better than Al Capone with tax evasion.

Who Would Win in a Mob War?

Scarface is as violent as the 1932 Howard Hawk original. Blood is a big expense, and 42 people are killed in the 1985 film. It came out amid other over-the-top action blockbusters like First Blood and the contemporary reality of the South American drug trade. So, it would seem, the film has far more violence. But they are easily matched.

The Godfather has a horse’s head, Scarface has a chainsaw. Michael’s brother Sonny (James Caan) gets machine gunned to smithereens at the toll booth, Tony blows the lower limbs off his would-be assassins at a nightclub. Omar is lynched in a chopper, the upper echelon of the mob is taken out by helicopter fire in The Godfather, Part III. Tony and Michael each get to kill a cop.

Both mob figures survive assassination attempts. Michael loses his wife Apollonia in Sicily in a car bombing meant for him. He also avoids the trap Tessio sets at the meeting with Emilio Barzini (Richard Conte), on his turf, where Michael “will be safe.” Tony lives through his initial professionally ordered hit, as well as being saved by Manny from certain death by chainsaw.

While Michael Corleone is able to take care of Barzini, Victor Stracci, Carmine Cuneo, and Phillip Tattaglia – the leadership of the five families – at the end of The Godfather, Tony Montana can only put up a good fight. The Corleone family would win in a protracted war against Montana’s cartel, but there is a possibility Tony would have outlived Michael while the battles raged. Expert swordsmen aren’t afraid to duel the best in the field, but they’re scared of the worst.

As far as crime tactics and strategic villainy, Michael Corleone plays a game of chess. Tony Montana plays hopscotch. He wins by skipping cracks in the street, but he only rises as far as the pavement.

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libermachinae · 4 years

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Tags: Teen and Up Audiences, Major Character Death, M/M, Transformers - All Media Types, Transformers: Prime, Dreadwing/Optimus Prime, Optimus Prime, Dreadwing (Transformers), Skyquake (Transformers), Post-Predacons Rising (Prime Movie), Canonical Character Death, dead characters meeting in the afterlife, Mutual Pining, Enemies to Lovers, speed version, First Kiss, DreadOP Day Word Count: 3148 Summary: Deep in the Well, Optimus runs into a familiar face. Twice over, in fact. Notes: DreadOP Day, you say? 👀 No way I wasn’t going to put something together for this.

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Heat.

Like the friction experienced by a meteor hurtling down, destined to expire, Optimus flew into the light at the center of his world and felt welcome.

His Autobots had stood under many foreign stars and held under lights curious, interrogative, and revealing, but he knew none would ever hold such presence or penetrate so deeply as the one they all emerged from. It sunk into the seams between plating, prying and leveraging until the gaps yawned and with a click, the excess plating fell away.

And he was a protoform again: delicate mesh and wires and struts exposed to the impossible light. It was in him, sinking between the atoms of his body until they shivered and shook, dancing away from each other. Metal melted, edges dulling and structures collapsing, and drop by drop Optimus felt it all fall away, one billion beads sprinkling away like shards of glass in a night sky.

There was no pain. Not here. Optimus stepped out of his body while it was still partially solid and let all of it fall away, into an abyss he could not see against the light.

And from there he had no way to tell which direction was which, or if he was still moving. All he knew was light, to such an extent that it took him another moment to realize he was seeing it, that even without a body the world around him persisted. He pressed in on himself, felt it out. He considered his name. Time passed, as he explored the boundless confines of his new existence, and he considered for a time whether he might try to close his eyes, or let the light pull him micron by micron into eternity.

As it turned out, he did not need to worry so much about his choice. Time finished passing (which, if he recalled correctly, was not in the nature of the thing, and yet) and he saw a point, what he could only describe as a single unit of contrast against the light. Its darkness grounded him, reminding him who he was and where he had come from (though not for how long he had been away) and he endeavored to draw himself to it by mechanisms it did not occur to him to consider closely.

It was a point, then a spot, then a dot. It developed variation in its tone, darker splotches on the bottom that developed into shadows, its squirming edges sharpening into corners. It took on dimensions, stretched, vertical expanding while the horizontal stayed squashed. Lighter grey tones highlighted the darker: reflections, though he could not tell their source, when every particle between here and there blasted the same white light.

Still, somehow, shadows slid and clipped together, and forming the façade of a simple Cybertronian house. Minimal decorations outside and the windows were closed, but still it had the appearance of a place lived in: a couple of oil cans sat on the front porch, behind two steps that led down to empty, and in one of the upper windows he thought he saw the shine of aged crystal growths. There was also noise coming from inside, voices too dulled to understand.

Directly in front of the building now, he could not see either side and so did not know how far back it extended. He had the impression, though, it was a comfortable size. Only as big as the space its occupants needed, no room for unwanted excess.

His momentum carried him the rest of the way, until he could place his pede on the first step and walk up to the door on his own. He did not need to send a ping, which was a lucky thing, since his comm suite had fallen away with the rest of his processor. The door slid open for him, and he stepped inside.

The gray shading of the exterior persisted inside, clear shadows that built around him the image of a home almost like what one would have found on Cybertron before the war. The metal walls were painted with a matte finish, the seams between them cut with delicate patterns of straight lines and right angles. Like the door, the entry way was large enough to accommodate him twice over, a feature of lower caste residences, but he could feel the hum of complicated circuitry throughout the foundation, optimization the caliber of which only the upper caste could have afforded.

“Optimus!” He startled at the noise. “Stop staring at my walls and come in.”

He stepped walked down the main hallway and turned at the first open door. Within was a sitting room, a couch on one end with a table and chairs closer. Two identical figures sat there, a cube of energon in front of each of them with a third before an empty chair.

“Well?” Dreadwing asked. Skyquake said nothing but stared at the intruder.

“Am I welcome?” He did not know what this place was or what it meant for him to have found himself here, but it clearly belonged to Dreadwing and Skyquake both. He had no wish to insert himself somewhere he did not belong.

“My brother has been waiting for you,” Skyquake said. “It seems that somehow, in the months I missed, you managed to gain his respect.”

Optimus glanced at Dreadwing.

“I would be honored if that were so,” he said.

Dreadwing’s lips twitched and his helm tilted to the empty chair. So much of the way they had spoken to each other in life had been based on the unspoken, it was no surprise it would continue here, where they were stripped to their purest elements.

Optimus stepped inside and took the seat. Sitting here, he faced the windows, but even through the cracks in the shade none of that overwhelming light came through. In here, it was peaceful, comfortable, like it had been designed with the intention that they might stay here for some time.

Dreadwing raised his cube to his mouth.

“How did it happen?” he asked around the rim.

“I sacrificed myself,” Optimus said. “The Allspark was at risk, so I drew it into my own frame and returned it to its rightful place.”

“Then the Well is back online?” Skyquake asked.

“Yes. Cybertron will awaken to new life once more.” He smiled, imagining new beings waking up, drawing themselves to the surface of a world that was theirs to build upon. He wished he could have been there to see it, but with his Autobots to guide them, he knew the next generation would be well looked after.

“And the war?” Dreadwing asked.

“Megatron followed your path, actually,” Optimus said, turning to his former assassin. “He renounced the cause and turned his back on his army. He will not be back.”

But Dreadwing’s lips curled down, and he set the energon back on the table with force. It seemed he had drunk none.

“Do not compare me to Megatron,” Dreadwing said. “He made a mockery of a cause we dedicated our lives to fighting for. I betrayed the Decepticons because to continue supporting them would have gone against my beliefs. If he simply left, then the Decepticons remain a flawed entity, and there is no honor in abandoning something one has the power to change.”

Optimus listened and nodded along.

“I will refrain, if that is what you prefer,” he said. “But if the Decepticons are as far gone as you say, are you sure it is still possible for anyone to change them from within?”

“Megatron could,” Skyquake said. “If any force in the universe were powerful enough, it would be him.”

And Optimus found he could not argue with that, so he nodded and attempted to take a sip of the energon he had been given. It tasted like energon, and he felt the impression of it moving down his intake, but the cube itself did not seem to drain. No matter how long he drank, it seemed to stay at the same level.

So curious he was about the phenomenon that he did not realize how long his silence had passed before he heard snickering. He lowered the cube and looked around: both twins were laughing at him.

“This place operates on its own rules,” Dreadwing explained. “Too many to bother explaining in detail. You will find discrepancies and you will adapt, and eventually it will become as natural as life once was.”

“So, this is death?” Optimus confirmed.

Dreadwing tilted his helm, first to one side, then the other.

“Something like it,” he said. “You will find the specifics don’t matter so much. We are here.”

“And occasionally we are not,” Skyquake said, rising from his seat. His cube, also full, remained on the table.

“You’re leaving?” Optimus asked.

“Stepping out,” Skyquake corrected. “My brother has been looking forward to your arrival.” He grinned, and Optimus turned to catch Dreadwing’s reaction. Too late: his expression had already shifted back to annoyed-neutral.

“I suppose so,” Optimus said. “Your revenge has been achieved, after all. though unfortunately not by your hand.” It was easier than he might have expected to make light of his own demise, or the effort both these mechs had expended to hasten him toward it. Perhaps such things dimply did not matter so much, here on the other side of the Well.

“You think my mission was for revenge?” Dreadwing asked, leaning forward on the table. “For what? Skyquake’s death was just another in a long line of our being separated by Cybertronians who thought themselves worthy of making such decisions. It was a question of honor, Optimus: Skyquake was denied an honorable death, and as his kin it was my responsibility to secure that honor in his name.” He traced patterns on the table as he spoke, like he was drawing the concept of honor and the way it could be passed around like energon siphoned between lines.

“In my estimation, you did,” he said. He glanced at Skyquake. “If you are unsatisfied, though, I would be willing to duel again.”

“Perhaps,” Skyquake said. “If Dreadwing decides you are worthy enough to stay.” He gave them a short bow, then ducked away, disappearing into the same hall Optimus had entered from. He heard a door activate elsewhere and was not sure whether it was to the exterior of the house. It didn’t seem there was anywhere to go out there, but then, he still had a great deal to learn about this place.

He turned back to his remaining host.

“He seemed to imply that I’m being tested,” he pointed out.

“Somewhat,” Dreadwing said, leaning back in his chair. Optimus didn’t think he had ever seen the Decepticon lieutenant comfortable before.

“What is your determination so far?” Optimus asked.

The corners of Dreadwing’s lips pulled up. A grin wasn’t the right work for it, nor a smirk; it was the attempt of a mech who had never tried to form a single cordial relationship in his life to look friendly.

“You are entirely too optimistic, Optimus,” he said. “Don’t you remember the last time we spoke?”

“You handed over the Omega Keys and offered us an opportunity to revive Cybertron under Autobot control,” Optimus said. He could never forget it: the memory often replayed in the last few moments before he fell into recharge.

“I also refused to join your cause or leave my own,” Dreadwing pointed out. “We were enemies for most of our lives, Optimus.”

“And now all those matters rest in our past,” Optimus said. He gestured to the window, though he had no idea which direction the living world lay in. “Cybertron lives again, headed toward a peace founded on the same ideals you fought for. We may not be able to witness it, but we can know that all of our actions, battles fought and sacrifices made, were building to this end.” He glanced to the hallway. “Perhaps it is bold of me to assume, but I feel it worthwhile to ask: have you found happiness?”

He looked back. Dreadwing was watching him, that forced smile eased into something more natural for his handsome face.

“There is no simple way to answer such a question,” he said.

“We have time,” Optimus pointed out. He stood from his chair, taking a moment to look around the room. It was a utilitarian space, but there were a few decorations that betrayed some sentimentality on the part of its owners: image displays on the walls, a mantle with a collection of = stones from other worlds, and a tin of wax that had been left out all contributed to a personal feeling that allowed Optimus to relax a bit more.

For Dreadwing and Skyquake, this place was home, and they had welcomed him into it. Whatever hostility might remain between them, nothing could overshadow that fact.

He made his way to the couch, its back against the windows, and sat down. It was comfortable, though he had no way to know whether that was because of the strange magic of this place, the make of the furniture itself, or the fact that he no longer had a body in which to feel discomfort. Dreadwing remained at the table, and he watched Optimus as he settled, helm rested on one hand.

“I wished to live to see Cybertron’s revival,” Dreadwing said. “I wished to watch if from the air once more, the way its inhabitants moved as if in a perpetual dance.” His hand moved across the surface of the table, imitating traffic. “I was assigned to energon drilling, and occasionally tasked with passing rapid communication between facilities. It was during my flights I started to get a sense of how truly large Cybertron is, and how much was being denied to me and others of my caste.”

“I had a similar experience,” Optimus said. “While working in the archives, I would receive data that indicated a much wider world than I had experienced myself. Until Alpha Trion’s intervention I had no means to reach beyond.”

“So, you understand what a gift it is to behold Cybertron as it lives,” Dreadwing said. “Not everyone does. But I digress, I did not live to witness it, and so in that way I do not know if I can call what I have here happiness. How can I claim a peaceful afterlife if I did not first achieve that which I desired in life?”

It was a valid question. But by the way his wings relaxed down, and how he gazed at Optimus with a look like a familiar friend, it seemed Dreadwing already knew the answer.

“I have spent more consecutive days with Skyquake here than I ever did in life,” he said, ducking his optics. His voice was gentler suddenly, as though speaking too loudly would make his joy obvious and break the spell. “It is what I imagined security must feel like. We part ways, and I know he will always come back; neither of us will ever be forced to choose to leave the other. Even if we had lived to see Cybertron again, any number of things could have intervened to separate us. To exist without that fear is, I believe, what happiness might feel like.”

“Then I am happy for you, old friend,” Optimus said. He smiled and hoped Dreadwing recognized his sincerity.

There was a beat of contemplation, and then Dreadwing stood and approached, broadcasting his movements before he made them. Optimus was not sure the sofa would be wide enough for both of them, but when Dreadwing sat the space was perfect, just wide enough that their knees could have touched, though Optimus kept his own drawn in for now.

“And you?” Dreadwing asked.

“Hm?”

“What will it take for you to find your happiness here?” He was facing forward, but Optimus still got the sense he was being paid attention to.

He turned over the question for a moment, inspecting it, though not too closely. He trusted the Allspark would do him no harm, which meant he trusted Dreadwing and his questions, and wanted to give them as honest an answer as he could fathom.

“I don’t know,” he admitted. “It’s not something I’ve considered in a very long time.” This was a good start, though. Knowing that Dreadwing had made it here and found peace gave him hope. He had lived a long life and done so much; he was ready for a place where he could rest.

“If you leave here and wander a bit,” Dreadwing gestured behind them, toward the window, “you will find the Pious Pools, as they were before the channel was blown up and they were drained. Perhaps a walk will give you guidance?”

Optimus misunderstood him.

“Anywhere I could go with you would be a gift.”

That wasn’t a bad thing, though.

By the time Optimus realized Dreadwing had meant for him to go on his own, the latter was already watching him with a smile on his face like it had snuck on and was hiding from him. He leaned closer, hand up to trace a delicate claw over Optimus’ audial.

“If we had lived,” he said, “would you have walked with me then? There was a trail from the lower end of Staniz that led up into the foothills, a dented trail formed by the weight of all the mechs who walked it. A mile out, the city disappeared, and the wind would blow so strong it would threaten to knock you over and send you tumbling back the way you had come. Would you have preserved that path while the rest of Staniz was restored? Would you have walked it with me, allowed me to hold you against the strength of our planet?”

“Why would it not have been me holding you?” Optimus asked, and then what must have been lips, warm lips, were pressed to his own.

He shut off his optics, leaned in, chased Dreadwing when he started to pull away. It did not matter that they were without frames: they kissed, held each other, phantom plating slotting together. Dreadwing had a scent and Optimus locked onto it, archived it, saved it to what might have been the fabric of the Well itself. He trailed his fingers along a ghostly wing and felt a shiver run through Dreadwing, strong enough to break them apart and force their optics back online.

They stared at each other, panting. Optimus did not know his mouth was still open and he wouldn’t have cared regardless.

“You’re beautiful,” he blurted.

And Dreadwing smiled, and there was no fleeing from it, no hiding. He smiled at Optimus, and happiness no longer seemed like such an unknowable thing.

“The wonders of life yet to be lived,” he murmured. And then he kissed Optimus again.

#maccadam #transformers #tfp #dreadop #optimus prime #dreadwing #my writing #oneshot #wanna share it with you #im gonna sleeb now

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ravnicaforgoblins · 4 years

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Ravnica for Goblins

Ladies of Ravnica

Dungeon Masters running a campaign in Ravnica may start to notice a trend with many of the city’s most powerful figures of authority (or notoriety); they are largely women.

Whether this an intentional choice on the part of WOTC for gender equality or purely accidental, most of Ravnica is run by the ladies. Not only do we see equal numbers of each gender represented within each race, each class, and each guild (except the Gruul Clans for some reason), but even a large number of the Guildmasters are/have been female:

Isperia, Sphinx Guildmaster of Azorius Senate

Lavinia, (acting Human Guildmaster of Azorius Senate following Isperia’s death)

Aurelia, Angel Guildmaster of Boros Legion

Feather, (former Angel Guildmaster of Boros Legion)

Razia, (Angel Founder/Parun of Boros Legion)

Vraska, (acting Medusa Guildmaster of Golgari Swarm following Jarad’s death)

Kaya, (official Human Guildmaster of Orzhov Syndicate following death of Obzedat)

Teysa, (unofficial Human Guildmaster of Orzhov Syndicate follow death of Obzedat)

Trostani, Dryad Guildmaster(s) of Selesnya Conclave

Zegana, Merfolk Guildmaster/Prime Speaker of Simic Combine

Vannifar, Hybrid Guildmaster/Prime Speaker of Simic Combine

In addition to this, every Angel and Medusa on the plane is exclusively female, with no exceptions. What does this mean for DMs plotting a Ravnica campaign? It means in all likelihood you’re going to be working on more female voices than male, so get practicing. If you are born a girl, this will be easier for you. If you’re born a guy, you’ve got some work to do. Because if you want to take a hard stance against doing female voices in your campaign, you are likely depriving your players the chance to interact with some of the coolest, most badass NPCs in all of Ravnica.

Lavinia of the Azorius Senate is an icon for the guild’s ideals, a champion for the laws of Ravnica, and steward of Jace Beleren, the Living Guildpact. Everything Jace wants to do with his nigh-limitless power as the embodiment of Ravnican Society has to pass through Lavinia first. She dictates his schedules, official commandments, and public appearances. Most importantly, Lavinia ensures that the most is made of the limited time the frequently-absent Guildpact is around. She is harsh but fair. A great choice for when the DM needs to intervene to save the players.

Judith the Scourge Diva is the Grand Dame of the Cult of Rakdos, it’s most in-demand performer, and the last word on anything that goes on backstage. She has more to do with the day-to-day goings-on than Rakdos himself, as the hedonistic demon Guildmaster rarely attends performances and often spends weeks, months, or even years in his lava pit. She does most of the work while Rakdos claims the adoration of the guild’s fanatics, cultists, and performers. Dramatic, demanding, devoted, demented, and she’s got a thing for blades & blood. She is the closest thing to a ranking member of the chaotic guild of stylized hedonism and carnage that is the Cult of Rakdos. She can be reasoned with.

Massacre Girl is currently the Azorius Senate’s number one fugitive.

Real Name: Unknown

Guild: Rakdos

Allegiance: Herself

Motive: Unknown

Crimes: Murders in every guild, including her own

Signature: High body counts, high-ranking figures, excessive violence

Perks for PCs: Instant Citywide Notoriety for taking her in/down

Drawbacks for PCs: Almost Certain Death for failing to take her in/down

Teysa Karlov, former Grand Envoy of Orzhov Syndicate, currently imprisoned for attempting to overthrow Ghost Council. Teysa is one of the few members of the Syndicate who isn’t motivated by greed or self-interest. Make no mistake, Teysa is as ambitious as they come, but her interests actually extend outside of her guild. She is one of the only high-ranking figures within her guild who actually tries to establish relationships with other guilds. It has dawned on her that the day may come when the Orzhov Syndicate might require the assistance of the other guilds, so maybe, just maybe, they should try to not have every other guild actively despise them. A groundbreaking proposal, the first step of which involved the overthrowing of the Greedy Old Men, aka the Obzedat, and establishing her as new guildmaster. Unfortunately, Grandfather Karlov outplayed her, and both Teysa and her ally Tajic of the Boros Legion were thrown in jail. Tajic was bailed out, but Teysa remains imprisoned thanks to bribes made with high-ranking officials to keep her so. In addition, to keep her from dying and achieving freedom as a ghost, she’s been fed food to magically lengthen her life in prison. All that said, Teysa is the best ally available within the Orzhov, one of the few not morally bankrupt, and knows the laws of Ravnica better than even the Azorius. A perfect choice for a prison break quest.

Emmara Tandris is one of the most well-known faces within the endless bounty that is the Selesnya Conclave. She’s a childhood friend of Jace Beleren, the Living Guildpact, and a public figure for inter-guild cooperations. This, plus the fact that she is a kind & caring individual with a special gift with animals, fey, and elementals, and the fact that Selesnya’s dryad trio Guildmaster(s) Trostani are vague at best, completely silent at worst, makes her a perfect choice for distributing missions, quests, and animal companions.

Last NPC I’ll mention is Vraska, of the Golgari Swarm. Vraska is the Planeswalker Medusa Assassin Pirate Queen of the Undercity. Think of something cooler than that, I dare you. It doesn’t exist.

*Edit: More Kickass Female NPCs!

Etrata, the Silencer. That name alone should inspire fear. Not just a vampire, not just an assassin, she’s more of an urban legend Boros soldiers tell each other about when they get stuck on overnight guard duty and want to spook their buddy. Lacking the tedious mind games of most House Dimir operatives, Etrata is an old-school killer for hire. She cares neither for politics, nor influence, nor subtlety. Your name shows up in her book, you’re gonna die tonight. She’s the only Dimir agent capable of actually challenging Lazav for his position of Guildmaster. What it will come down to is this; is he smarter than she is deadly? Etrata is great because her exploits are much easier to track than other Dimir. If someone is dead from a vampire bite in a locked room, they’ve just had a visit from Etrata.

Izoni, Thousand-Eyed should honestly have been the Golgari Guildmaster. Not only is she infinitely more interesting and distinctive than the run-of-the-mill Lich Jarad Vod Savo, but she embodies the Swarm in a way Jarad just doesn’t. Scuttling by your feet, buzzing around the air, lurking wherever death can be found; Izoni and her ever-present insect swarms have presence. Jarad, on the other hand, has a bow, very little personality, and the only real accomplishment he’s had as Guildmaster is surviving assassination attempts. Which, let’s be honest, for the Golgari, is just par for the course. Izoni has room to grow, to expand, and she’s exactly the sort of cackling, nasty, power-hungry dark witch players like to fight. Except she somehow makes being covered in bugs hot.

Pierakor az Vinrenn D’Rav, better known as “Feather”, was the Boros Guildmaster before Aurelia, and a former Wojek Officer. Her wings were bound and she was forced to serve in the Wojek for some reason that hasn’t been explained, then when the original Guildmaster and Parun Razia was slain, Feather stepped up. Her reign was short-lived when Aurelia challenged her as unfit to serve as Guildmaster given her unspoken crime that she was charged for however long ago. Feather gave up the mantle and left Ravnica, going into a self-imposed exile in the lawless Red Wastes beyond the Rubblebelt. Basically, this means that there is a Guildmaster-Level NPC living all alone in the most savage wilds on the entire plane searching for redemption. The story is literally just sitting there, waiting to be written.

#ravnica for goblins #ravnica #ladies #ladies of ravnica #vraska #judith the scourge diva #emmara tandris #massacre girl #lavinia #teysa karlov #dnd #d&d #dungeons and dragons #etrata #izoni #feather

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thegreenfairy13 · 4 years

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No Country For Heroes (Part 3)

Originally a drabble written for the prompt ‘beg’ by @justsimplymeagain ,this escalated into a full story. You can read it here on Ao3.

Plot: The GCPD turns Jim Gordon in for their protection. Set during the No Man’s Land story arch.

Jim was a man who used to believe in innocence. He didn’t need proof, didn’t look for it, never searched it where it came to his conviction that ultimately the human race was - at its core - good, worth his protection. But that’s the thing with faith, it’s unprovable, it can be shaken, and it can get lost. Children, who are regarded as the prime example of innocence, can do horrid things without even realizing the brutality of their act, oblivious as they are. Maybe that’s true innocence though, doing the most hideous crime and not understanding the implication of your action.

Oswald looks at Jim with huge, shining eyes, his mouth forming a perfectly round ‘O’. It’s the expression of a kid when being told that, yes, it can have the entire birthday cake, all the presents are indeed theirs, and there won’t be any repercussions for just diving right in and taking it all.

He reaches out with a movement full of adoration and even with the cop slumped against the bedframe, clutching the metal for support, Oswald seems to be staring up at him. Biting his lip and tilting his head, he offers Jim his hand for support.

Enraged, the cop swats it away, watching how the gangster’s features contort in rage. He really is a kid, Jim thinks, as Oswald huffs out an offended breath, instantly pulling his hand back. The cop waits for him to go into one of his rants, his little fits of rage, in which he starts lashing out like a kid who had been denied his will.

Jim can’t help it. Despite, or maybe because of his tremendous fear, he fights back. He was never one to sit in the corner for long. Hell, he went up against Falcone, tore down the city’s old order single-handedly, shook Gotham to her core, tossed her into chaos, and gave his everything to pull her out of the abyss. If the Penguin wants not only his life but his entire being, he’ll have to earn it.

It is stupid, Jim knows that. But he’s just the kind of man who reacts to immense terror with rage. He’ll bite back, fight like a force of nature until his heart stops beating. They have that in common, he and the Penguin, that untamable temper.

“And this woman, Grace, she was right,” Jim pants once he can stand somewhat steadily. He grinds his teeth together in an attempt to suppress the violent shivers and waves of heat rocketing through his body. He can almost taste the darkness about to take him over. His body is failing him, or protecting him - Jim isn’t quite sure - as every fiber of his being screams for him to lay down and collapse again.

“You said you want to turn me into a zombie,” he accuses, still not really capable of fully grasping the concept. His initial shock morphed into incredulity as the minutes passed by. He partly wants to laugh all of this off, drop back on the bed, and trust that once he wakes, he’ll be back in his shitty apartment, waking from a particularly vivid nightmare.

And then this is just Oswald. The boy he pulled from death’s grasp, the little wannabe who had a gigantic crush on, adored him like a lovestruck teenager.

Jim wishes he had the strength to pin him to the wall like all those times before, fingers just itching to squeeze the life out of him because he always knew. He always had a foreboding the gangster would be his downfall.

There had always been something about him. Something that likewise attracted and almost disgusted the cop, a draw he fought but could never truly deny. He should have known he lost the fight the third time the Penguin rose to power, became the King of Gotham once more, and instead of being the man of the law Jim once vowed to be, he didn’t use all the obvious evidence connecting the criminal to his elegant system of organized crime but decided he’d rather see him thrown from his throne again than behind bars.

It had been Oswald he chose to sacrifice his principles for - all of them - for better or worse. It started with them murdering a man together instead of arresting him, went on with betrayal when turning a blind eye to Oswald being tortured, and now this shall end with a vengeance.

Jim always hoped though. Hoped the love the Penguin felt for him would protect him. But he said he used to love him. Now with the protection gone, Jim feels desperation rising up his throat. He said he still felt desire though, and that's the chance Jim tries to latch onto.

“Don’t you realize that if you turn me into your puppet, you’ll just have a doll with my face?” he barks out. “How is that not taking love by force as you put it?” he demands to know.

The muscle in the corner of the criminal’s jaw twitches, silently indicating the oncoming storm.

Unable to stop himself from pushing the criminal further, Jim raises his chin defiantly. He must be a sight, rumpled and beaten down, not even remotely attractive, and still, the Penguin follows his every movement, completely enraptured.

"If that is what you want, I'll get down on my knees and suck you off," the detective offers, and he's not joking, even if it sounds like he does.

Oswald weighs the cane in his hand deliberately, plays silently with the handle they both know contains a deadly dagger. The mobster blinks and Jim is almost certain he tries to hide some excess moist but that might only be his hope again.

“No, I don't want you to,” he then says quietly. “Not like that.” The Penguin sighs with compassion. “Jim, really, you should sit down. You’ll pass out again,” he adds gently. “Can’t really catch you with my bad leg,” he informs him with a wry smile.

“As if you’d care!” Jim snaps.

Oswald looks genuinely shocked. “I’d care a great deal,” he replies. “I thought that was obvious.”

Leaning heavily on his cane, he chooses his next words. “The thing is, my lovely detective, I might have, and I apologize for that, not picked the accurate words when presenting you with my plans for you. Arkham,” he pauses, scrunches up his face at mentioning the name of the facility, “Zsasz...they can’t procure anything that isn’t there. Not really.”

Looking up at the detective, the gangster observes every twitch of Jim’s face. “When Zsasz reprogrammed Butch to follow my orders, he played on his desire for guidance, for a firm hand. He only broke free when being presented with something he desired much more - and that happened to be Fish. When Strange reprogrammed me to be good, he played on my desire to be good .”

Oswald lets out a shuddering breath. “I wanted to be good, loved. I wanted to be someone you could want. That was the reason it worked so well - for a while.” His voice cracks and Jim senses there is still much unsaid. He remembers the criminal coming to him after being released, the excitement written all over his face when turning up at his doorstep, the amount of trust…Jim swallows heavily around the lump forming in his throat. He didn’t believe him back then.

“I’m sorry,” Jim whispers, meaning it. There’s not much more he can offer.

Averting Jim’s eyes for a moment, the gangster looks at the floor in shame. Shaking off the unwelcome feeling, he directs his gaze back at Jim. “That’s why it would work exceptionally well on you, though.”

“How?” Jim asks, caught off guard for a moment.

“Because I’m convinced,” Oswald starts walking up to Jim, all but trapping him against the tiny bed, “it works better the more the other man wants what you are forcing him to do.”

He pushes Jim onto the bed, meeting almost no resistance. “Cause see, Jim,” he continues as he gently wraps the blanket around the detective’s shoulders, “brainwashing doesn’t mean forcing someone to do something they don’t want to, but eliminating the characteristics, the barriers in your personality preventing you from doing what you denied yourself originally.”

Oswald places his hand lightly on Jim's shoulder. It’s a motion meant to help him focus on the mobster’s words.

“You can’t stop shaking,” the Penguin remarks. “Poor thing,” he adds, and there is it again, this worried tone. Damnation comes in the form of the most captivating man Jim has ever met.

“I’m cold,” he chokes out, reaching for Oswald’s hand.

“I know,” he nods. “I’ll take care of that,” he vows. “I should have never treated you like that, my Jim.” A blissfully cold hand is being placed on his forehead. “The way you have been treating me all those years…”

Jim wants to offer an explanation but Oswald is quicker - as always. “You just couldn’t admit you wanted me too, isn’t that right?” His eyes widen as he comes to the conclusion and Jim lacks the strength to protest.

It’s not untrue anyway. Biting his lip, Jim tries to hide his reaction yet to no avail. His eyes drop to the Penguin’s mouth and for a moment, he allows himself to imagine what giving in would mean.

Something changes in the Penguin’s posture then. He tenses up and relaxes at the same time.

“You’d have to wipe out what you like about me in order to force me to act out on that desire though,” Jim argues. “I’d never ,” he emphasizes, “I could never choose you knowing what you did, what you’ll continue to do.”

Oswald nods silently.

“You have no remorse,” Jim acknowledges. “There’s nothing you wouldn’t do to gain power. And you don’t care how many get hurt in the process,” he finishes.

“I’m very driven, just like you,” the Penguin admits lightly. Pursing his lips, he studies Jim’s disheveled form. “Don’t think I’m not considering what exactly I’d have to break to get what I want,” he hisses.

The detective grits his teeth in defiance.

“But then we share so much,” Oswald muses. “All you’d have to do was see the world from a different angle, from my angle to be precise. If you’d just understand.” Leaving the sentence hanging, he tilts Jim’s head up.

“And if I told you I do understand?” the detective challenges. “Being selfish is so much easier,” he scoffs.

To his surprise Oswald laughs. “You know, I wanted to wait until you are better,” he shares. “But you are right. I am selfish. And now that I have you in my possession, I can’t wait.”

At a snap of his fingers, the door opens, revealing none other than Victor Zsasz.

“Jim,” he promises, “True selfishness means absolute freedom. And I have every intention of giving it to you.”

And so it starts.

#gobblepot #fanfiction

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astarlightmonbebe · 5 years

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10 Kdramas I Recommend part 2

Hey~I’m back again with a part 2! I finish kdramas so slowly, so this took me a while to get to. Sorry if I ramble.

Here is part 1.

1. Life

Year of Release: July-September, 2018

Cast:

Lee Dongwook as Ye Jinwoo

Cho Seungwoo as Cha Seunghyo

Won Jina as Lee Noeul

Lee Kyuhyung as Ye Sunwoo

Yoo Jaemyung as Joo Kyungmoon

Synopsis: Ye Jinwoo is a doctor at Sangkook University. One night, the hospital director dies. Though his death is ruled as a heart attack, Jinwoo believes otherwise. Koo Seunghyo becomes the new director of the hospital, despite being a businessman. He sees the hospital as something to profit from, and decides to forcefully transfer three departments, including the emergency medical center, where Jinwoo works. Jinwoo and the other staff members protest this and start to scheme to have their new director removed.

Thoughts: I went into this for Lee Dongwook and Won Jina only, and only thought it sounded vaguely interesting. I’m not much for hospital dramas and politics, but this drama really ended up piquing my interest! Not only were the actors amazing, but it shaped up a really good story. It showed the bad and good characteristics of everyone, even the so called protagonist and antagonist. I did find it frustrating at times, but only to the point that I felt that I had to watch more to make sure everything got resolved right. From a writer’s standpoint, the ending of this was wonderfully crafted, though watchers might have found themselves deeply sighing.

Rating: 8/10

2. Healer

Year of Release: December, 2014-February, 2015

Cast:

Ji Changwook as Seo Junghoo

Park Minyoung as Chae Youngshin

Yoo Jitae as Kim Moonho

Synopsis: Kim Moonho is a famous reporter who enlists the service of a mysterious night errand boy, Healer, to find and protect Chae Youngshin, a junior reporter who he believes is connected to a decades old mystery surrounding five friends. The three become intricately connected as they navigate their shared past, the mysterious incident, and current day politics as people in positions of power try to cover that incident up for good.

Thoughts: I LOVED THIS DRAMA! I watched it in around three weeks (it’s a 20 episode drama), and loved every single minute of it. It was the fastest I have ever watched a kdrama. I thought about starting it many times, but always pushed it off because the summary never sounded interesting. Yet after watching a trailer and deciding to see how it was for Ji Changwook, I was instantly tossed head over heels. This drama is thrilling. Secret identities, reporters, mysteries, romance (!!! y’all there’s this one cute scene that really makes me squeal), trauma, pain, and everything in between. You will seriously not regret watching this.

Rating: 10/10!

3. Come and Hug Me

Year of Release: May-July, 2018

Cast:

Jang Kiyong as Chae Dojin/Yoon Namoo

Jin Kijoo as Han Jaeyi/Gil Nakwon

Heo Junho as Yoon Heejae

Kim Kyungnam as Yoon Hyunmoo

Yoon Jonghoon as Gil Moowon

Synopsis: Namoo and Nakwon were each other’s first love in high school, until Namoo’s psychopathic father, Yoon Heejae, murdered Nakwon’s parents. Twelve years later, the two meet again--with Namoo as a police detective who goes by Chae Dojin, and Nakwon taking after her late mother as an actress by the name of Han Jaeyi. She suffers from severe PTSD. Together, the two of them navigate their rough past and try to move forward and heal, even as the past threatens to return to their present.

Thoughts: I can’t begin to stress how much I like this drama. It is a drama with a darker theme, but I really liked how they focused on Nakwon’s PTSD and a) how people reacted to the rumors of her mental trauma, b) how they didn’t end up pushing that it made her weak, but rather showed how she grew through it. Every single actor in this was fantastic, especially the child actors! I was really glad to be introduced to Jang Kiyong and Jin Kijoo! They looked so great together :). If you’re a fan of healing dramas with a touch of serial killer, you should definitely check this one out. It checks all the romance boxes, but also all the fun, crime filled ones too.

Rating: 9/10

4. Descendants of the Sun

Year of Release: February-April, 2016

Cast:

Song Joonki as Yoo Shijin

Song Hyeko as Kang Moyeon

Jin Goo as Seo Daeyoung

Kim Jiwon as Yoon Myeongjoo

Synopsis: Shijin is a captain of the special forces, and Moyeon is a doctor. They meet at the hospital, and decide to date. Unfortunately, it does not work out, as they realize that Shijin as someone who takes lives and Moyeon as someone who tries to save them are not a good pair. The two part ways, but it seems like fate is looking out for them, because eight months later they meet again when Moyeon is assigned to go to Uruk with a medical team, where Shijin is stationed.

Thoughts: DOTS is a drama classic, and a must watch. I went into watching it expecting to to be very different than it was, but I was not disappointed in the slightest bit. It delves into a lot of topics on morality and making decisions in the midst of a life and death situation. The Song-Song couple’s chemistry was off the charts (and they got married in real life, too!), plus the second lead couple was awesome too! Each character brought something unique to the show. DOTS made my heart leap and feel all sorts of things--especially when Onew (he played a doctor) was crying his eyes out, like dude, I wanted to bawl. This is a classic you cannot pass up.

Rating: 10/10

5. Romance is a Bonus Book

Year of Release: January-March, 2019

Cast:

Lee Jongsuk as Cha Eunho

Lee Nayoung as Kang Dani

Jung Eugene as Song Haerin

Wi Hajoon as Ji Seojun

Synopsis: Cha Eunho is a popular writer and editor who works at a popular publishing company. He is close friends with Kang Dani. With a twist of fate, Dani--who used to be a popular copywriter but has recently fallen upon hard times--manages to get a job at Eunho’s publishing company by lying on her resume.

Thoughts: Any drama with Lee Jongsuk is going to be good (well...most dramas), and this drama was the perfect mix of funny, romance, and a dash of mystery. Dani’s character was very relatable. She’s awkward, kind, old timey, and genuine. I loved getting introduced to Wi Hajoon as an actor through this drama. He and Jung Eugene were great second leads/supporting actors. The rest of the cast are each very unique in their own way, and lots of kudos to the writers for showing us little slices of how they live and their own problems without making the storyline messy.

Rating: 8/10

6. My Strange Hero

Year of Release: December, 2018-February, 2019

Cast:

Yoo Seungho as Kang Boksu

Jo Boah as Son Soojung

Kwak Dongyeon as Oh Seho

Synopsis: When Kang Boksu was in high school, he was falsely accused of school violence by his friend (Oh Seho) and his girlfriend (Son Soojeong). Years later, as an adult, Boksu has the opportunity to return to school and graduate. He takes up the offer with the idea of getting revenge, as Soojeong has just become a teacher there, and Seho is the new director as he battles to take control of the school from his mother, the chairman. However, things don’t go as Boksu plans, and he soons find himself tangled up in a major school corruption.

Thoughts: Okay!!!! I usually get tired of hearing the same old corruption spiel since apparently kdramas love to point out the problems with Korea’s school systems (while nothing changes), and while Chairman Oh definitely made me want to slap her straight across her dumb face, it wasn’t enough to make me completely stop watching. First off, I love all three main actors (or I did as soon as I saw them in here). Yoo Seungho is always enjoyable to watch, and Boksu and Soojeong were sweet and fluffy and balanced each other out perfectly in the relationship. I also fell for Oh Seho! I know a lot of people found him a terrible person...and yeah, he was definitely a prime example of like an anti-villain, but he also had a great redemption arc and I just...wanted to give him the hugest hug.

Rating: 8.5/10

7. Cheese in the Trap

Year of Release: January-March, 2016

Cast:

Park Haejin as Yoo Jung

Kim Goeun as Hong Seol

Seo Kangjoon as Baek Inho

Synopsis: Hong Seol is a hard working college student and Yoo Jung is her good looking, smart, and rich sunbae. Over the course of college, Seol and Jung eventually start a delicate relationship despite other obstacles in their path. However, a friend from Jung’s path, Inho, returns and also starts to fall for Seol.

Thoughts: This drama...I actually only watched it for Seo Kangjoon and he’s the only reason I finished it. This has the biggest second lead syndrome you will ever find. Personally, he’s the only reason this is making it to my recommendation list (that and the fact that I’m horrible at finishing dramas). On the other hand...let’s just say that I hated Park Haejin for so long because I could not get over how much I disliked his character in this drama. It was an interesting character, but I couldn’t stand how manipulative he was. CITT is based on a webtoon, so maybe that’s why it’s so crazy, but it took me so long to finish this. It took me a year because I stopped watching it so many times. This show seriously drove me crazy. There are only a couple things that get me genuinely riled up when I have to talk about them, and this show is one of those things. I don’t know, some people really liked it, but while there were good characters and some nice parts, in the long run it was just really not that good.

Rating: 6/10

8. Bad Guys

Year of Release: October-December, 2014

Cast:

Kim Sangjoong as Oh Gutak

Ma Dongseok as Park Woongcheol

Park Haejin as Lee Jungmoon

Jo Donghyuk as Jung Taesoo

Gang Yewon as Yoo Miyoung

Synopsis: In order to combat the rise in violent crimes, the Police Detective tasks Detective Oh Gutak with putting together a group of criminals to take care of the problem. Gutak, who is currently suspended for excessive violence, puts together a team consisting of gangster Park Woongcheol, hitman Jung Taesoo, serial killer Lee Jungmoon, and Police Inspector Yoo Miyoung. Together, the team tackle the rising crime rate and dangerous criminals.

Thoughts: This show was only 11 episodes, maybe why I was able to watch it so fast. It’s violent and dark--the perfect fit for the crime/mystery genre. I also like to call this Park Haejin’s redemption drama, because after this you know who I liked x.x. There were also a lot of plot twists that made me need to watch the next episode immediately. There’s a sequel to the show with a new cast but the same premise, but I’ll warn you that that show has definitely more violence and blood and death and stuff (I’m still watching it; I’m kind of stalled out right now since a certain episode made me lose faith in that entire show, ahem episode 8).

Rating: 8/10

9. Kill It

Year of Release: March-April, 2019

Cast:

Jang Kiyong as Kim Soohyun

Nana as Do Hyeonjin

Roh Jeongeui as Kang Seulgi

Kim Jaewon as Philip

Synopsis: Kim Soohyun is an elite assassin who is searching for clues to the past he cannot remember. Do Hyeonjin is the adopted daughter of an important congressman who is a new Police Detective. She is still searching for the killer of her boyfriend, even though nine years have passed. Soohyun and Hyeonjin start to cross paths, finding a connection from their past that leads to a growing relationship.

Thoughts: Sounds like every au ever, right? Jokes, it’s my favorite au of all time and I freaked out when I found out Jang Kiyong was going to the lead. It sounds cliche, but I swear it’s very good. I love the fact that there’s not really a romantic relationship between the two, like it’s not supposed to be romantic, but rather focuses on the platonic, friendship between them. It’s a dark, twisting drama, another one showing how deep corruption runs in the government (that’s always a theme because you know, it’s a thing), and the ending freaking killed me but you know :((.

Rating: 9.5/10

10. He Is Psychometric

Year of Release: March-April, 2019

Cast:

Park Jinyoung as Lee Ahn

Shin Yeeun as Yoon Jaein

Kim Kwon as Kang Seongmo

Kim Dasom as Eun Jisoo

Synopsis: Lee Ahn has a special ability, psychometry. When he makes skin to skin contact with someone, he sees their darkest memories and secrets. He dreams of becoming the first Police Psychometrist. Yoon Jaein has been running her whole life, ever since her father was charged with the arson of Yeonsung Apartments, where Ahn’s parents died. The two first meet in high school, but their connection is cut short, only for them to reunite two years later and start to solve the mystery behind the fire and the other crimes that connect to it, along with Ahn’s non-biological brother, Prosecutor Kang Seungmo, and Police Detective Eun Jisoo.

Thoughts: OKAY, let me take a deep breath before I get into this one. He Is Psychometric is one of the best dramas I have ever watched. It’s right up there on my top five, I reckon. I didn’t drop this or anything; I watched it from the moment it started airing to the time it didn’t. Fair warning that if you expected happiness, this is not the drama to go for. It’s so twisty and has so many turns, like everytime something was uncovered there was still more threads to follow and it was insane but amazing. Especially for me, being a huge psychology fan, I loved digging into these characters and how unique they each were. The relationships, bromance and romance alike, were so intricate in this drama. I went through a million feelings and emotions in the span of a minute. This drama is also one that you can’t see coming. You can theorize (and believe me, I theorized the heck out of that thing) and guess, but it manages to blindside you almost every time. This show will break your heart and how you think of the world and humans and for that, you have to at least give it a try.

Rating: 100/10

#kdramas #my recommendations #kill it #he is psychometric #come and hug me #descendants of the sun #cheese in the trap #my strange hero #healer #bad guys #romance is a bonus book #life #kdrama recommendations #i love these!!!!#so many thoughts #hopefully this is more organized than no 1 #hopefully i made no typos!#here you go: my rambly mess of a self condensed

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loopy777 · 4 years

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What are some of the worst Star Wars novels you've ever read? Surely there must be quite a few badly written ones out there you've had the misfortune of reading.

Most Star Wars novels are, honestly, just merely okay. I’m thinking of the core of the Bantam run, during the 90′s, when Luke, Leia, and Han were saving the galaxy from some random Imperial warlord weilding a random superweapon. I wouldn’t say those stories ever descended into being formulaic, but they were like episodes of a TV show, with the broad strokes always being pretty much the same, but for some reason expanded into an entire novel- or worse, a trilogy of novels. I think the worst of the lot is probably “The Black Fleet Crisis,” with its three unrelated plots. I always enjoyed it much more when we got stories about other characters, with smaller stakes, because those had the freedom to do interesting things.

Ironically, the worst Star Wars books are the ones that tried to shake this formula up. I’m talking, of course, about the ‘New Jedi Order’ series and its sequels.

But that includes a whopping 37 novels. Which ones are the standout worsts?

Well, the one I absolutely loathe the most is Fate of the Jedi: Apocalypse, by Troy Denning.

It’s excessively violent, both in terms of the shear amount of violence and fighting in the book, as well as descriptiveness. We get vivid descriptions of disembowelings. We also get half the book devoted to the Jedi characters fighting their way up the Jedi Temple against hordes of nameless Sith mooks, to the point where it seemed like a transcription of a storyless video game. Worst of all, the Jedi glorify in the violence and death. There’s not even a false note of regret. Instead, we have Jaina Solo gleefully making a joke about how her sabotage of a high-speed transport tube means that the Sith attempting to use are going to become a “goo fountain.” There’s also the casual deaths of billions, perhaps trillions of people when Coruscant is devastated by some kind of volcanic disaster, but no one reacts much to that. It’s just numbing, and robs it all of any sense of victory. This is the book I think of when I say that Legends had Luke Skywalker turning the Jedi into a new Sith Order, founded on death and rivalry.

What little plot the book has railroads the characters to conclusions of subplots and storyarcs that don’t have any sense of fulfillment. One character is a girl raised in a Sith culture who decides that, in a gag-worthy storyline that ties her change of heart to a forced romance with Luke’s son Ben Skywalker, she’d rather be a Jedi instead of a Sith because it comes with people not trying to kill you all the time. I’ll ignore what happened in the previous novels, because this one does, too. In this book, she still wants to be a Jedi but has started to resign herself to the fact that might just be too evil. Instead of really making a choice, she actually winds up in a situation where she just pretends to rejoin the Sith, but then the good guys catch her doing that, assume she’s really evil, and try to kill her. That’s it, she figures she can never go back, and devotes herself to accumulating power and killing whoever stands in her way. It’s so weird and decoupled from the character herself, almost an anti-climax to the previous 7 books of focus on her. Never mind how un-StarWarsy it is, but Denning has said that was the point.

I guess it’s reflective of the greater theme of the book, which Luke Skywalker sums up at the end in plain words at the end: the galaxy and the Force are meant to be embroiled in never-ending conflict, and the Force is only in balance when there are both Jedi and Sith to make eternal war on each other.

And that’s when I quit reading books in that continuity about Luke Skywalker. I have never read the novel Crucible, also written by Troy Denning and set after Apocalypse, nor will I ever. I’m still confident, though, that even with Disney’s sequel trilogy having ended on a soulless, stupid note, it’s still better than how the Fate of the Jedi series ended.

So, that was a good rant. XD

What other books really stand out to me?

Well, I think the book that starts off the New Jedi Order, Vector Prime by R A Salvatore, is very weak and sabotages everything that comes after. It has a meandering plot that tries to introduce new readers to the continuity-heavy setting while also flubbing every single continuity reference it makes. That’s quite a feat. It also has a lot of heavy-handed commentary, both in the themes and actual character dialogue, about how everything is NEW and DIFFERENT and DANGEROUS and THERE ARE NO ‘CHARACTER SHIELDS’ ANYMORE SO ANYONE CAN DIE. Chewbacca dies in this book, and it’s an obvious stunt, but only one other major characters dies in the whole 23-book series, and it’s not one of the sacred movie characters, so the Character Shields still wound up in place. And I still think the Vong aliens are dumb, teenage-edgelord garbage in their evil pain-worship, combined with implausible biotech. Even in the Star Wars setting, I have trouble imagining organic spaceships that can generate black holes as casual pinpoint-defense shields. Like, if they can do that, why are they shooting lava-balls like lasers? Never mind the snake-whips their warriors wield that can harden at will to the point where they can deflect lightsaber blades. It’s all so dumb, but taken so seriously! Actually, that’s a good descriptor of the NJO series as a whole. There are some decent books in there, but they’re still saddled with this dumb context.

I think I also kind of hate Legacy of the Jedi: Sacrifice, by Karen Traviss. It’s a fairly boring book that, like most of Traviss’s stuff (I think she wrote 2.5 good books, overall, out of 9), feigns sophistication by focusing on sad mercenaries hanging out on farms while failing to say anything more interesting than, “Finding something to live and fight for is good.” It has a dumb subplot where Jacen Solo, son of Han and Leia (and Kylo Ren’s more boring AU counterpart), takes over the Republic by getting a lawyer droid to sneak a loophole into a security bill that lets him declare himself king of the galaxy. Seriously. So much for Palpatine’s decades-spanning manipulations! And the books ends with a railroading of Mara Jade so that she can die to raise the stakes in the story (and so that her male family members, Luke and Ben, can be sad and angry for the rest of the series). It gets even weirder with how it’s juxtapositioned with Boba Fett recovering his eternally young hot ex-wife (established in a comic that wasn’t even in continuity before that) as a reward for realizing that family probably matters a little. You can see where the claims might come from that Traviss favors the clone-related characters a little too much.

So yeah, those are the three books that really make me cringe when I remember them.

#Anonymous

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gffa · 5 years

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Here’s how good STAR WARS fandom has been this last month: I still have half of Queen’s Shadow to read and yet fic still manages to pull me away and distract me with all these wonderful stories! Sometimes happy and sometimes heartbreaking and sometimes just really fascinating worldbuilding, the fandom has been pretty damn amazing this month and I would like to yell about all these feelings the Star Wars fic has given me with everyone. You know how, when you’ve read a good fic, and you get that sated, lazy, warm tingly in your brain feeling because everything is just so good? That was me about a dozen different times this last month, every time I would go on a fic-reading binge and I need to share that with everyone who will listen for at least five minutes. STAR WARS FIC RECS: TIME TRAVEL RECS: ✦ I thought I fought this war alone by stonefreeak, obi-wan & qui-gon & cast, time travel, 3.7k Obi-Wan is thirteen years old, just about to start learning Ataru from his Master. Obi-Wan is sixty-one years old, dead and one with the Force since four years back. Obi-Wan is both, and neither. ✦ Grave Accents by primeideal, anakin & leia & mace, time travel, 1.5k In retrospect, Mace decided, it had mostly been Qui-Gon’s fault. He was measured enough not to blame the master for the entire state of affairs; after all, it was not Qui-Gon but chance or the will of the Force that had brought young Leia to Jedha. ✦ The Road Is Made By Walking by the_rck, obi-wan/luke (maybe), time travel, 6.9k Eventually, it occurred to Obi-Wan that figuring out Luke’s motives might be some sort of test. Simply understanding that it was a test would mean accepting that Luke was a teacher. ✦ Runaway by Fairleigh, luke & shmi, time travel, 1.2k Shmi Skywalker befriends a boy who has run away from home. PREQUELS RECS: ✦ Master by CJinn, obi-wan & anakin, 27.5k Obi-Wan Kenobi had always wanted to become a Jedi Knight. What he didn’t expect was to become a Master merely days after his own Master died. Adapting to his new role as the mentor and Master of the quite unusual Padawan Anakin Skywalker became a bumpy road. ✦ Supreme Chancellor Obi-Wan Kenobi by stonefreeak, obi-wan & anakin & padme & palpatine & bail & cast, 6.8k wip By an old Republic law, all members of the Jedi High Council are senators in the Galactic Senate, and can thus be voted in as chancellor. ✦ Am Bushed by SingManyFaces, obi-wan & anakin & ahsoka & rex, 1.6k During the war, sometimes special tactics are required to make sure The Team gets the sleep it needs. ✦ A little idle talk of this and that by victoria_p (musesfool), obi-wan & iroh & aang & cast, 4k On his way to Tatooine with Luke, Obi-Wan makes an unexpected stop for tea in Ba Sing Se. ✦ Ghosts of the Present by randomlyimagine, obi-wan & yoda & caleb & siri & plo & aayla & jedi & cast, 8.2k wip Every single Jedi killed during Order 66 becomes a Force ghost, often before their bodies even hit the floor. ✦ The First Trial by Raven_Knight, obi-wan & qui-gon, 2k Accompanied by his Master, Qui-Gon Jinn, young Obi-Wan Kenobi undergoes his first trial and rite as a Padawan Learner on the frozen planet of Ilum. ✦ adust by TheFreakWithTheWings, obi-wan & anakin, ~1k adust: scorched, burned; Obi-Wan had never liked to think of himself as cruel. Practical, yes. Ruthless, sometimes. ✦ untitled by stonefreeak, anakin & ahsoka & yoda & cast, 2.7k Returning to the Temple seems almost unreal. Despite everything going on in the galaxy, the Temple has always been a point of calm, the eye of the storm. But now when Anakin walks these familiar halls again—his second home, the one not build of sand and stone in the hottest of deserts, and not the one in an upper Coruscant apartment that smells of perfume—it seems as if the very air of it has changed. ✦ Arrival by CJinn, obi-wan & yoda & cast, 2.6k Little Obi-Wan was only a few days old when he was brought to the Jedi Temple. His arrival caused some confusion among the Jedi. ✦ Trembling Brightness by Pandora151, obi-wan & ahsoka & cast, 2.3k “I watched you die—twice. And I just can’t go through that again.” ✦ What Should Be by LessAttitudeMoreAltitude, mace & depa, 1.2k Depa expresses concern about the effect this war is having on her padawan. ✦ The Song in the Soil by Ria Talla (ronia), aayla & quinlan, 3.1k He had asked her to stay below in the ship, so she wouldn’t know where they were going, and then to wrap the cloth over her eyes before she could get a glimpse of where they’d landed. He always asked. And Aayla never turned down a challenge. ✦ The Lawful by Raven_Knight, obi-wan/satine & bo-katan & cast, NSFW, 4.2k With the help of Bo-Katan, certain things go a little differently after Obi-Wan Kenobi arrives to rescue Satine from Darth Maul’s clutches. ✦ Don’t Bring a Blaster to a Lightsaber Fight by FireflyFish, obi-wan & anakin & luke & han & rey & dooku & maul & palpatine, 2.9k a.k.a A Weekly Meetup for Local Force Users OBI-WAN/ANAKIN RECS: ✦ Wish upon a star by Paper_cut, obi-wan/anakin, modern au, 4.3k Obi-Wan buys a lamp, gets much more than just a genie. ✦ Ashes of the Republic by mewgirl1995, obi-wan/anakin & obi-wan/padme (& some anakin/padme) & luke & leia & ahsoka & cast, nsfw, 96.7k In the chaos of the fall of the Republic, the Jedi Temple is destroyed, hiding all evidence of what happened there. In order to protect the Chosen One’s children, Obi-Wan Kenobi and Padmé Amidala flee into hiding, hoping that they can find Anakin again. Meanwhile, Vader searches for those that he hopes will still be loyal to him and the new Emperor. ✦ The Missing Part by Nightstar269, obi-wan/anakin & ahsoka, modern au, 36.8k wip Anakin Skywalker, a student of mechanical engineering, has always felt that his life was lacking something, a feeling that was made much worse with the deaths of his mother first, and of the woman he loved some time later. Still haunted by the pain and heartbreak, he tries to go on with his life as well as he can. When an initiative of the director of the university has the students attending the classes of another degree so as to enrich their knowledge, he will meet someone that will turn his world upside down. ✦ The Devil’s Own by lilyconrad, obi-wan/anakin & cast, regency au, 11.1k wip Some whisper the Skywalker family is the devil’s own, and no tutors in the area will take on the orphaned Lord, a young man famous for his excessive drinking, riding, and dueling. The townspeople shake their heads at the arrival of the latest tutor, a London scholar out of money and other options, wondering how long it will be before this Kenobi is run out like all the rest. ✦ Sear me pale sun by liv_k, obi-wan/anakin, NSFW, bittersweet themes, 9.8k “So here we are, a failed Jedi, a Sith, and our imminent deaths. I leave it to you to choose how we will meet our demise, whether fighting or doing something else entirely.” ✦ Bedroom Hymns by orphan_account, obi-wan/anakin, NSFW, modern au, spanking, bondage, bdsm, d/s, 26.6k wip Anakin Skywalker is a young student with some kinky interests, and his search for a Dom leads him to Obi-Wan, a former professional. Obi-Wan has retired, but their purely professional kinky relationship changes the lives of both men. How long can they keep it professional? And what happens when they start falling for each other? ✦ Across the Darkness by xpityx, obi-wan/anakin & anakin/padme & rex & cast, 16.2k wip Obi-Wan knew they had hit the temple’s inner security measures when Anakin went from calm to clutching both Obi-Wan and his lightsaber between one step and the next. ✦ Miasma by lilyconrad, obi-wan/anakin & rex & cody & fives & kix & cast, dark themes, 15.2k wip Obi-Wan never believed his best friend and lover Anakin would die first. But he has. ✦ Physical Examination of a Submissive by orphan_account, obi-wana/anakin/padme, NSFW, medical kink, d/s, 2.7k Anakin’s partners want to make sure he’s nice and healthy. ✦ What An Expensive Fate by FromDreamstoEmpires, obi-wan/anakin, NSFW sith!obi-wan, 1.3k Obi-Wan raised an eyebrow at him, “But you like it when I tell you what to do.” He said softly, hand pulling on his curls until Anakin was forced to look at him, “Don’t you, sweetheart?” ✦ Shaak Herding for the Troubled and Lonely by protos_metazu_ison (larkspyt), obi-wan/anakin & anakin/padme & ahsoka, 22.4k wip Disgraced Master Obi-Wan Kenobi was content to live out the rest of his life as a hermit until the Prime Minister appeared at his door, begging him to attend the Skywalker clan’s annual party. While reluctant to re-enter society, Obi-Wan’s always wanted to meet Anakin Skywalker, the most powerful Force-user in the galaxy. ✦ Things we never said by Gondolin, obi-wan/anakin, ~1k “Stop lecturing me for ten seconds and think of yourself! I swear you plan to die still lecturing me. Well, you might as well give up now and rest, because I care, I care, I care! And it doesn’t matter how bad a Jedi this makes me.” ✦ To have and to hold by Gondolin, obi-wan/anakin, 1.5k “Obi-Wan…” he whispers, focusing on that Force signature that shines like a beacon in the endless night of deep space. ✦ baby, put on heart-shaped sunglasses by destiny919, obi-wan/anakin & palpatine, 1.2k Palpatine: I’d like to talk to Anakin. Obi-Wan, feeding Anakin bon bons while they lay on a plush chaise lounge: Tragic ✦ Soul by Gondolin, obi-wan/anakin, soulmate au, ~1k Obi-Wan took a deep breath. He should trust the other Knight. He could trust him. He wasn’t a misbehaving child. “Is there a legitimate reason why you won’t accept my help?” ORIGINAL TRILOGY RECS: ✦ No Snowmen on Tatooine by HiNerdsItsCat (HiLarpItsCat), obi-wan & anakin & luke & han & chewbacca, 2.6k Luke Skywalker spent his entire childhood on a desert planet. He might be a hero of the Rebellion and strong in the Force, but he isn’t handling the freezing temperatures on Hoth well at all. Thirty years earlier, Anakin Skywalker is in the exact same location… and having the exact same problem. REBELS RECS: ✦ Chess Across the Galaxy by ambiguously, hera & thrawn, 2.7k Thrawn has his favorite opponent in his custody at last, and he has an offer for her. ✦ The Sea Has Ten Thousand Names by ambiguously, kallus/zeb, 2.6k Living on a new planet is hard when you don’t know the language. SEQUELS RECS: ✦ we are here and it is now by victoria_p (musesfool), anakin & rey & luke, 3.5k “So either you’re not here or you’re not living,” she says. “I’m definitely here,” he replies, and there’s amusement in his voice. ✦ find your way (back) by glorious_clio, rose & paige, 2.1k Paige and Rose are separated by five years and not much else. As a unit, they navigate the rise of the First Order on Hays Minor, and their eventual evacuation and separation from their beloved parents. But they trust in each other and in the future. ✦ Flyboys by ambiguously, poe/jacen, nsfw, 18k Poe Dameron goes to the Academy, learns to fly, and falls in love a lot. As you do. ✦ That’s Not How the Force Works by imaginary_golux, anakin & han & ben, ~1k Han wakes up as a Force ghost, and decides to go and have a few words with his son. FULL DETAILS + RECS HERE!

#obi wan kenobi #anakin skywalker #ahsoka tano #obikin #luke skywalker #leia organa #qui gon jinn #yoda #poe dameron #jacen syndulla #rey #rose tico #paige tico #mace windu #depa billaba #han solo #fic recs #star wars fic recs

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kariachi · 4 years

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Am I completely happy with the end of this? Not really. But It’s been like six hours and 2500 words and damnit this is what y’all are getting.

Some almost-OV-compliant royal Kev fic!

“Tell me I’m not set to inherit anything.”

“Well that all depends on you,” the Speaker said. “As a member of the Imperial clan you are, by default, in the running for any major clan position, including that of Imperial Heir.” Even with his face buried in his arms, Kevin’s groan was audible. Argit rubbed his back and muttered something in his ear in Erinaen that had him groaning all the louder.

“What if I don’t want to inherit anything,” he asked. Gracidea shrugged.

“You’ll have to take that up with the relevant members of the clan. I’m just Voice of the Clan.”

“Then shouldn’t you-” Argit began, only to be interrupted.

“I haven’t been given authority to speak for anyone on this matter.”

“Of course not, we couldn’t be so lucky.”

Things had gotten, rough, after the Rooters incident. Finding out your recently dead mother had never actually been your mother at all. Remembering your actual, not-so-recently-deceased mother. Learning your stepfather was a fake. Remembering your actual stepfather, who’d never been sober enough to be scared of you. Learning your relationship was started on a lie. Having that relationship strain as the traits that had been forced on you to facilitate it crumbled away. Finding out the man you’d been made to think was your father had never existed, remembering you at no point had any idea who your actual father was. The sudden influx of a load of forcibly-repressed trauma. These were all things that made life difficult for a young man who with every passing day really just wanted to buy some land in bumfuck-nowhere Chenango County and become a hermit raising sheep in the spaces he couldn’t restore to pre-colonial standard and occasionally throwing a new patent out into the galaxy.

There wasn’t much besides trauma Kevin’d gotten out of the situation. A few tentative friends? Siblings? Things did not stop being awkward there so… He’d gotten the Tennysons and some security out of the situation, which he supposed was a good thing. He didn’t count Argit on the list though, the longer they knew each other the more certain they each became that they would’ve found each other eventually. Nor did he count learning his species, unlike the Tennysons, because that he learned from Kwarrel.

His best father.

His only father.

No matter what anybody else said.

Gwen had been the one to spearhead the ‘find Kevin’s father’ campaign. She meant well, and it wasn’t as if her logic wasn’t sound- the Empire kept track of it’s citizens so in theory it shouldn’t have been too hard to find out who was on Earth and where at the appropriate time as log as they asked nicely. Very nicely. Exceedingly nicely. (In the end Kevin had had to ask, complete with a chunk of the story, because no Osmosian was going to give that sort’ve information to some random Plumberbrat.) In the end all Gwen wanted was for Kevin to have some loving, living family in his life. All Kevin wanted was for this to not turn out to be a shitshow.

At least one of them was getting what they wanted.

Kevin would’ve appreciated it being him for once.

They’d all been expecting- hoping, in Kevin’s case- to find something fairly mellow. Just some random shmuck passing through, who Kevin would be perfectly happy to have not want anything to do with him. (And where had that come from, when all his childhood he’d wanted to meet his actual father and have him at least give half a rat’s ass?

Oh. Yeah. Trauma.)

At best they’d thought they’d get a merchant, or maybe his father really was a Plumber at least. But no. Kevin didn’t get that lucky. What Kevin got was another Osmosian showing up at his door (the door for the house he’d bought his not-mother, the one he was thinking of giving to the other Amalgams), a Speaker for his father’s clan.

A Speaker for the Imperial clan.

Ben was never going to let him live this down.

If he didn’t just run away and buy that acreage tonight.

So he’d called up Argit, because like fuck he was getting any the Tennysons involved while he was off-kilter, and Argit had come out and the three of them started talking and-

And Kevin wanted to dig a hole and bury himself in it.

Because apparently his father was a prince. And just because that title didn’t technically extend to him (“I mean, Mother’s sire is a territory holder, but that’s a separate clan, there’s nobody you could have inherited the title from.” “Wait, if it has to be through his ma, then he’s not part of your clan either.” “We’ll get to that.”) didn’t mean he wasn’t already feeling it weighing on his already well-worn shoulders. Because really, like couldn’t go his way just once without a fight-

“Okay, so, let me get this straight.” Argit leaned back in his seat, surprisingly little of his food eaten given Kevin felt like spending the next week stress-baking, and fixed Speaker Gracidea (his Aunt Gracidea) with a look that had once left Vulcanus fidgeting like a misbehaving third grader. She hardly even blinked. “Osmosians are part of their ma’s clan, which means Kevin can’t be part of the Imperial clan. But, he’s still in line for this shit.”

“Yes.”

“Because…?” Gracidea smirked, and Kevin could just make out Argit muttering about it ‘looking familiar’.

“As an adult member of the Imperial clan I’m allowed to adopt new members into the clan as long as I have the approval of the Clanhead. Approval I happen to have.” She turned to Kevin, expression softening. “Vaca would’ve come out and done it himself, but it was decided having a higher level of authority involved would be for the best.”

“Understandable,” Kevin about managed to squeak out, even if it really wasn’t. Gracidea nudged his plate closer to him and continued.

“It wasn’t as if it was a hard decision, mind. You’re an underage orphan of Imperial blood, we weren’t about to just abandon you now that we know you’re here.” He kind’ve wished they would’ve. Just how interesting of a life was he going to get before this curse was satisfied? “Besides, even if you weren’t blood, some… research has been done and Astel intends to make some examples of people.” Argit’s mane rose in interest, ears somehow twitching even further forwards.

“Examples of who,” he asked with the heavily veiled excitement of someone who was trying to maintain authority but also really wanted some people made examples of.

“Starting with the Magistrata and working her way down.” Turning to Kevin, Argit flashed a grin.

“I think I like these people.”

“You just like the idea that I might end up on a throne,” Kevin replied, swatting him on the arm.

“Well yeah, but along with that, I think I like these people.”

Again, Kevin dropped his head on his arms and groaned. Louder and longer this time.

“If it makes you feel any better,” Gracidea said, “we have plenty of cousins eligible for the same positions you are. Unless you make yourself standout as someone prime for the position it’s unlikely you’ll end up head of the clan, nonetheless Emperor.”

“Does it have to be an option at all?”

“Like I said, talk to Chern and Astel about it.” More groaning. “Is he always like this?”

“He’s had a very long… life, really. I think he’s expecting this to be another thing that blows up or crumbles in his face.”

“Huh. Any advice on making him not feel that way?”

“Talking like I’m here might help.”

“Not really. I mean the problem is that he’s normally right. Sometimes he’s not, but even then he generally ends up with somebody rubbing his nose in it so in the end he still turns out right.”

“Poor thing.” Curling up and dying was starting to sound more and more appealing.

“How am I supposed to tell the Tennysons about this?!”

“Don’t,” Argit said, scoffing. “Not their business, let ‘em find out with the rest of the galaxy when the Emperor apparently makes heads roll.” Gracidea chuckled.

“Oh it won’t be anything so easy.”

“Can we focus on my struggles for a moment please?!” Argit reached out to pat his shoulder.

“Look, there’s no hurry. I’m sure the Emperor’ll hold off on shit long enough for you to at least get comfortable with the whole situation-”

“She will. You’re clan, and the problem people aren’t going anywhere soon.”

“-so just, take you time. Get used to shit.” Grumbling, Kevin leaned into his touch.

“I’m running away. Gonna be a hermit in the New York wilderness.” Gracidea raised an eyebrow, but Argit just chuckled.

“Yeah, yeah, give me a couple hours to pack, leave a note letting Helen know how much the rent is on this place.”

“You will charge rent over my dead body.”

“It can be arranged.”

“You wouldn’t, then you’d have to ward me again when you brought me back.” Across the table, Gracidea’s expression was getting more and more fond.

“Kev, buddy, at this point I just count warding supplies as the baseline cost of knowing you.”

“I do not die that often.”

“Three times.” That got the Speaker’s attention.

“How many times?!”

“It’s not that many.”

“Yes, it is Kev. That is an excessive amount of deaths.”

“Agreed!” With a final groan, this one finally with an aggravated air instead of a ‘please kill me now’ one, Kevin shoved away from the table and stood. The other two stayed where they were, Gracidea gaping at him and Argit rolling his eyes.

“Look, you two wanna discuss that, go ahead, I’m gonna be in the kitchen, making dinner or something.”

The problem was that Kevin was perfectly okay being a nobody. As a child he’d wanted attention, all the attention, any attention, but he’d grown up since then. He’d seen what having attention got him. How many times had he been kidnapped and/or enslaved now? And that was just as a result of his powers and being close to the Tennysons. How bad would things get for him if his being cousin to the Emperor of the Osmosian Empire got out? He was going to never know peace. And then add onto that the possibility of being chosen as Imperial Heir (was it likely? in a just world, no. in the world he lived in? practically guaranteed) This was his life, an ongoing disaster that sometimes tried to disguise itself as good things.

He didn’t want any part of it.

Oh there was a whole lot out there about how awesome loving families were, but it wasn’t worth the risk. Best case scenario, he ended up in charge on an Empire which he would probably ruin. Worst case scenario, everyone died. Most likely scenario, this whole thing fell apart around him, leaving him right back at square one but with even more trauma.

He had to stop listening to the Tennysons, really he did. They meant well, but they didn’t get it. Good things happened to them. Actual good things. Any good thing that happened to him was a trap. Which was why they couldn’t find out about this, because if they did not only would Ben never let him live it down, but Gwen would insist he go along with it. For his own good, she’d poke and prod and bulldoze right over him until he played along with a situation that was only going to end with him punching a wall.

It already felt like a five-puncher.

“Kevin?” He was scrolling through his phone when Gracidea walked into the kitchen, going through property listings as he waited for dough to rise and sauce to meld. And now considering if throwing himself out the front window would be rude.

“Yeah?”

“I just wanted to make sure you were alright.” She leaned against the opposite counter, giving him plenty of space. “I know having this dropped on you is probably rather…”

“Overwhelming? Disconcerting? A blow to the gut for somebody whose opinion on authority is generally ‘fuck off’?” He flashed her a half-hearted smile. “Tell me when I’ve got it.”

“That, all sounds about right,” she said, then sighed. “Nobody intends to force you into anything, you know. Not even having anything to do with us.” Clearly she had never met a Tennyson in her life. “Yes, it would give us more ammunition to tear down those who’ve denied you your rights and your justice, but even if you refuse to become part of the clan we’ll still pursue them, if just to prevent mistreatment of further chicks.” Scraping his teeth over his lips, Kevin sighed and put down his phone.

“Mike Morningstar.” Gracidea chirped questioningly. “He’s another Ossy hybrid, don’t know anything about his clan or if he even has one but, it’s not near as much as me-” thank fuck, he wouldn’t wish that shit on anyone “-but he’s been through some shit. Ya know, if you need more names to throw around.”

“We didn’t really but,” her eyes were narrowed as she spoke, “it certainly won’t hurt. I’ll have the matter looked into.” Kevin nodded and the room lapsed into silence as she looked him over. “You know, you might make a decent clanhead.” He actively kept himself from tensing. “Even if you don’t accept an adoption, at this rate within a few years you’ll have made enough of a name for yourself to start a clan of your own.”

“Yeah,” Kevin replied with an awkward chuckle, “that’s not the best idea. Not exactly the most stable person, in case that didn’t come up in your ‘research’.” Gracidea just shrugged.

“You get it from my mother, and she’s made a great leader.” She smiled at him. “I admit, I don’t know you well, yet, but from what I’ve seen there’s some potential there. I’d rather it be added to the clan, I’d rather you be added to the clan, but it’ll come out somewhere regardless.” He bit his cheek, checking the sauce for something to distract himself. “We’d love to have you, Kevin, but your comfort is more important. Just, consider it. Please.”

Kevin glanced at her. Easily as tall as Aggregor had been, if not more so, though maybe it was the antlers giving that illusion. Dark hair, dark scutes, and those same blue eyes that had come to Eric seemingly out of nowhere. Smiling at him, the asshole.

“I’ll… think about it,” he said, and her smile widened the slightest bit.

“It’s all I ask, nibling-mine.”

There was a good hundred acres of land available right where he wanted it for only a few hundred thousand.

Kevin put flying back out east on his schedule.

#fanfic #basically everything from the rooters arc is canon except ossy's not existing

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scifigeneration · 5 years

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THE 2019 PHILIP K. DICK EUROPEAN SCIENCE FICTION FILM FESTIVAL ANNOUNCES EVENTS IN FRANCE AND GERMANY

Sixth Annual Festival Brings Indie Films To Lille, France and Cologne, Germany

The Philip K. Dick European Science Fiction Film Festival has unveiled the full lineup for its sixth annual event celebrating the life and career of novelist Philip K. Dick. With an emphasis on technological advancements and the existence of alternative worlds and cultures, the festival will gather in Lille, France from October 25-26, 2019 and in Cologne, Germany from October 31-November 1, 2019.

Returning to screens in two familiar cities, the festival has become a prime destination for European filmgoers. “This is our sixth season in Lille and fourth in Cologne,” said Daniel Abella, the founder and director of the festival. “It is a testament to the enduring quality of our screenings and the long-standing tradition of science fiction in the cultural centers of Europe.”

Attendees to this year’s event will view themes reminiscent of today’s society, and according to Abella, each official selection represents the fragmentation of consensus reality. “Many will argue that we already live in a sci-fi universe with serious talks given to UFO’s, artificial intelligence, the universe as a computer simulation, and time travel,” he said. “PKD’s work followed the growing blurriness between man and machine and humanity’s surrender to the seduction of technology. We cover these topics and more because more than any other writer, PKD had his finger on the pulse of what is happening today.”

FRIDAY, OCTOBER 25, 2019: L'Hybride (18 Rue Gosselet 59000, Lille, France) Block 1: The Future is Now 7:30pm - 9:00pm

Face Swap (2018) Director: David Gidali, Einat Tubi Run Time/Country: 5 min, USA Synopsis: A man convinces his wife to try out a new A.I. technology to spice up their sex life but he ends up getting a bit more spice than he bargained for.

Deep Dive (2018) Director: Mohammad Soleimanifeijani Run Time/Country: 6 min, USA Synopsis: A young Persian refugee arrives at the border of Los Angeles and is given a mandatory set of government-issued immigrant transition AR lenses. Shut out of other people's reality she slowly descends into a new form of digital alienation.

Megan (2018) Director: Greg Strasz Run Time/Country: 8 min, USA Synopsis: The story of a woman, who along with the elite Delta Force team, investigates a mysterious attack by in present day Downtown Los Angeles.

Eva - A Crispr Story (2018) Director: Puneet Bharill Run Time/Country: 22 min, Germany Synopsis: Researchers have achieved a clinical milestone using CRISPR technology to transplant a genetically modified pig liver into a human embryo but face unforeseen consequences.

Shadowland (2019) Director: Bellopropello Run Time/Country: 14 min, Switzerland Synopsis: The diverse communication options offered by a cell phone influence our social and consumer behavior. Excessive use changes the design of ‘head-down people’s’ life and lifestyle habits.

Popular Tropes (2019) Director: Dries Vergauwe Run Time/Country: 15 min, Belgium Synopsis: It’s the third year of a pandemic and the worst winter in decades. Those who can afford it stay inside, those who can’t collect the dead.

Uncle Griot (2018) Director: Paul Charisse Run Time/Country: 6 min, UK Synopsis: A young girl takes her uncle for a walk.

The Great 60 Days (2018) Director: Tae-Woo Kim Run Time/Country: 9 min, South Korea Synopsis: A doctor experimenting on fruit flies is developing a substance that can dramatically increase activity in brain cells. After a series of failures, one fruit fly finally has a huge reaction. Its intellect has become mutated.

Post-Film Q&A: Screenings will be followed by an in-depth discussion with filmmakers.

Block 2: Flesh and Machine

9:30pm - 11:00pm Tatu (2018) Director: Garcerón Alejo Run Time/Country: 2 min, Argentina Synopsis: In this trailer, monster robots in a car junkyard battle it out.

I Don't Want To Be Alone (2019) Director: Sergio Rozas Run Time/Country: 19 min, Spain/Japan Synopsis: A lonely girl walks around a future Tokyo chased by weird huge monsters. Even though she fights them, the monsters just keep growing in size and number so the girl has to make a decision.

Zoe (2018) Director: Leif Brönnle Run Time/Country: 17 min, Germany Synopsis: A young woman without identity or memory. Two scientists with great ambition. A sequence of tests that will bring them all to their psychological frontiers.

Secret Chord (2019) Director: Karl Thyselius Run Time/Country: 12 min, Sweden Synopsis: A failed musician in a dystopic Stockholm finds an A.I. that helps him become a Mozart of his time.

Eternity (2019) Director: Anna Sobolevska Run Time/Country: 24 min, Ukraine Synopsis: Once upon a time in the nearest future, humanity has overcome death and is granted Eternity by digitizing human souls. But what happens if Eternity faced with Love?

Tomorrow, Shall We All Be Transhumans? (2019) Director: Benoît Schmid Run Time/Country: 9 min, Switzerland/France Synopsis: Jump into a mesmerizing journey into the spirit of the first man who succeeded to digitize his own brain, algorithm his soul, and who injects himself some Holy Transgenic Fluids in order to transcend his flawed flesh.

Post-Film Q&A: Screenings will be followed by an in-depth discussion with filmmakers.

SATURDAY, OCTOBER 26, 2019: L'Hybride (18 Rue Gosselet 59000, Lille, France) Block 1: Beyond Faith and Reason 7:30pm - 9:00pm

The Nine Billion Names of God (2018) Director: Dominique Filhol Run Time/Country: 15 min, France/Switzerland Synopsis: In New York 1957, a Tibetan monk rents an automatic sequence computer. The monks seek to list all of the names of God. They hire two Westerners to install and program the machine in Tibet. A short film is based on the book by Arthur C. Clarke.

Quiver (2019) Director: Shayna Connelly Run Time/Country: 14 min, USA Synopsis: A woman’s grief transcends the boundaries of the natural world and arouses a primordial being. She courts this ghost, using intellect and desire to forge a union between them.

Time Sphere (2019) Director: Andre Seewood Run Time/Country: 10 min, USA Synopsis: After the destruction of the Third World War, a man traveled back in time to deliver a message to someone he loved before the end of the world only to be met with a cruel twist of fate.

Tomorrow Might Be the Day (2018) Director: Joséfa Celestin Run Time/Country: 20 min, France Synopsis: A fanatic subjects his niece, whose faith wavers, to a baptism in order to restore her faith and ultimately save her from an impending doomsday flood.

I Am the Doorway (2018) Director: Simon Pearce Run Time/Country: 20 min, UK Synopsis: After a journey to investigate desolate Pluto, an astronaut returns home a shattered man. He sees eyes forcing their way through the skin of his hands, eyes that distort his friends and the landscape itself into monstrous visions. Believing himself the doorway to alien invasion and gruesome murder, he must take desperate action. Based on the short story by Stephen King.

Mise En Abyme (2018) Director: Edoardo Smerilli Run Time/Country: 11 min, Italy Synopsis: An eccentric and aristocratic gentleman devotes most of his time to a bizarre activity. Obsessed by beauty, he wanders everyday in the wood nearby the city, hunting the most rare butterflies. Once captured, he frames them and put in a massive and disturbing collection. He will soon realize to be himself part of a bigger collection.

Who is Martin Danzig? (2018) Director: Michael Baker Run Time/Country: 11 min, USA Synopsis: A mysterious old man sits in the park feeding pigeons, ruing the refuse of humanity encroaching on his sanctuary. He then meets his much younger replacement and learns to accept his future - with the fate of all humanity in the balance. Starring Walter Koenig (Star Trek) and Kevin Page (RoboCop).

Post-Film Q&A:

Screenings will be followed by an in-depth discussion with filmmakers.

Block 2: Cults, Conspiracies and Paranoia 9:30pm - 11:00pm

Ladies and Gentlemen, We Are Floating in Space (2018) Director: Tristan C. Pina Run Time/Country: 10 min, Canada Synopsis: An unfulfilled high school senior becomes obsessed with an ominous radio broadcast containing steps to a cryptic puzzle. Thinking he is being pursued by a sinister organization, his search for clues takes over his life.

Beyond the Door (2018) Director: Em Johnson Run Time/Country: 20 min, USA Synopsis: One day Hedy brings home a cuckoo clock to decorate the baby's room, unbeknownst that the cuckoo clock has the ability to love and hate just like humans. The cuckoo clock tests the couple's love by mimicking the presence of their deceased son. Based on a short story by Philip K. Dick.

Sereget (2018) Director: Dempsey Tillman Run Time/Country: 13 min, USA Synopsis: An emotionally detached husband with a child on the way gets a rude awakening when aliens invade his home and target his family.

Diversion (2018) Director: Mathieu Mégemont Run Time/Country: 23 min, France Synopsis: A small town journalist covering a case in the French countryside stops after running over a dog on the road and finds himself trapped in the stories he usually writes.

Just After Midnight (2018) Director: Jean Raymond Garcia and Anne-Marie Puga Run Time/Country: 22 min, France Synopsis: A young blind primary school teacher keenly studies art history devoted to witches and to Satan’s erotology.Transformed, she tries to steal a man’s eyes to recover her eyesight.

Post-Film Q&A:

Screenings will be followed by an in-depth discussion with filmmakers.

THURSDAY, OCTOBER 31, 2019: Film Club 813 e.V. (Hahnenstraße 6 50667, Cologne, Germany)

Block 1: The Future Is Now 7:30pm - 9:00pm

Cold Cold Coffin (2019) Director: Brian Cichocki Run Time/Country: 7 min, USA Synopsis: A heartbroken and dying tycoon exacts revenge on his gold-digging young bride by having himself cryogenically frozen in order to outlive her and the terms of his will. Starring Dennis Dunaway, the original bass guitarist for Alice Cooper.

Llora Conmigo (2019) Director: Camilo Urdaneta Run Time/Country: 15 min, Mexico Synopsis: A Mexican American teen accidentally lures the Latin legend of La Llorona back to his home where he must face the long night ahead.

Antenna (2016) Director: Carsten Woike Run Time/Country: 16 min, Germany Synopsis: A lonely 11-year-old-boy gets in contact with an alien via his old radio-device system. Or is the alien only a lonely old man?

Post-Film Q&A:

Screenings will be followed by an in-depth discussion with filmmakers.

Block 2: Flesh and Machine 9:30pm - 11:00pm

Tatu (2018) Director: Garcerón Alejo Run Time/Country: 2 min, Argentina Synopsis: In this trailer, monster robots in a car junkyard battle it out.

Chromophobia (2019) Director: Keith Adams Run Time/Country: 13 min, USA Synopsis: A clinical psychiatrist becomes obsessed with her mysterious new patient’s artwork and realizes he possesses a curious gift.

Secret Chord (2019) Director: Karl Thyselius Run Time/Country: 12 min, Sweden Synopsis: A failed musician in a dystopic Stockholm finds an A.I. that helps him become a Mozart of his time.

I Can (2019) Director: Diana Elizabeth Jordan Run Time/Country: 5 min, USA Synopsis: A young woman faces a supernatural existential crisis and must overcome her fears to unlock her power within.

Hunting For Huxley (2019) Director: Claire Fleming Run Time/Country: 5 min, UK Synopsis: This documentary follows philosopher Aldous Huxley when he visited the recently built and technologically advanced Billingham Manufacturing Plant in 1929. He left inspired and his novel “Brave New World” was born from what he saw combined with his visioned future.

iCon (2017) Director: Konstantina Papadopoulou Run Time/Country: 18 min, Greece Synopsis: In a society where smart apps dominate, a man chooses an environment away of the comforts high technology offers and tries to face a powerful opponent, using only his own strength.

Post-Film Q&A:

Screenings will be followed by an in-depth discussion with filmmakers.

FRIDAY, NOVEMBER 1, 2019: Film Club 813 e.V. (Hahnenstraße 6 50667, Cologne, Germany) Block 1: Beyond Faith and Reason 7:30pm - 9:00pm

Post-Film Q&A:

Screenings will be followed by an in-depth discussion with filmmakers.

Block 2: Cults, Conspiracies and Paranoia 9:30pm - 11:00pm

Simulation (2019) Director: Hashem Al-Ghaili Run Time/Country: 24 min, Germany Synopsis: An advanced alien civilization builds a simulated reality where infinite beings, including humans, are imprisoned.

DreamLogic (2017) Director: Rodolfo Rincones Run Time/Country: 10 min, USA Synopsis: An aimless man addicted to cyberspace connects with a hacker with plans of freeing people from virtual existence.

Post-Film Q&A:

Screenings will be followed by an in-depth discussion with filmmakers.

—

Festival Passes:

Passes to the festival are available for purchase on https://www.philipkdickfilmfestival-europe.com.

#science fiction and fantasy #movies #scifi movies #film festivals #philip k dick #philip k. dick european science fiction film festival

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tenroseforeverandever · 5 years

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Wonderful Tonight - Chapter 1

Characters: Tentoo; Rose Tyler; Jackie Tyler; Pete Tyler; Original Character, Wilkins from Vitex Patents

Tags: hurt/comfort; angst; romance; fluff; love; Pete’s World; sexual content; drunkenness; drunken confessions; swearing; songfic

Story Summary:

On the first anniversary of the instantaneous biological metacrisis that created him, the same day he and Rose had been unceremoniously dumped in Pete’s World, the Doctor can think of a few gazillion different ways he would prefer to spend the evening, and the Annual Vitex Gala is not one of them. All he truly wants is to spend a quiet, intimate evening at home alone with Rose. But when Rose doesn’t acknowledge the significance of the date, the Doctor finds the strain and rejection he has worked so hard to overcome surfacing again, leaving him feeling vulnerable and insecure.

A song fic, based on the song Wonderful Tonight, by Eric Clapton.

Notes:

This story has been in the works since Christmas and was intended to be finished by Tentoosday in February. LOLOLOLOL So, right on schedule for me, then!

Written for @doctorroseprompts‘s Tentoosday event.

Many thanks to my brilliant betas mrsbertucci and @rose--nebula who have taken the time out of their very busy schedules to look this story over for me.

Four Chapters, posting on Wednesdays