#by FAR the av im the most attracted to

[nateslehky]

nathan mackinnon's ability to be the ugliest man you've ever seen while also being the hottest man you've ever seen is truly remarkable

[docholligay]

Tracer/Emily “on a scar”

Talk about stuff I've meant to write for ages, this moment is finally out in the world. ANYWAY THANK YOU 1600ish words, all of my OW universe is here.

Tracer kissed her shoulder.

It should have felt good. She wanted it to feel good. She was incredibly attracted to Tracer, who had been a perfect lady over the past few weeks. Tracer, who was handsome and charming and gallant, who had treated her to dinner and walks in the park and made her laugh with all her stories, brought her flowers and told her she looked wonderful in purple, who had never invited herself up even though her eyes clearly wanted to be invited up.

But instead, there was a sort of deep grim that lapped at the corner of her mind. Emily was not good with women. She wasn’t good with anyone really, over the age of six, she thought, quiet and shy and awkward, the way she’s been all of her life. She wanted this, and she was afraid of it. She was not a casual person. Sometimes she wished she were.

The hard part, for Emily, was knowing when to tell someone. When she had been younger, it had been easy to blame her being trans for every ounce of hesitation she felt in a public setting, for every stumble through a conversation, and every bad date where her calls were never returned. It some ways, it had made things easier, to know that there was an immutable reason for such things, but life is rarely so kind, and she had met so many other women like her who glittered and had full dance cards, who lived life loudly.

So her own hated timidness had to, at least in some capacity, be an organic consequence of being Emily McNair, rather than anything else. It was disappointing.

But because she was Emily McNair, and because she had no idea of what it meant to be casual, and because she, like the silly fool that she was, was dangerously close to being truly in love with Tracer, she had to tell her. She wanted to tell her. Because if she was going to love Tracer, she had to know that Tracer could love all of her, even her history.

She tried not to expect too much of people in that vein.

“Em?” Tracer pulled away from her, ‘Can’t ‘elp but notice you don’t seem particularly engaged. You,” she seemed disappointed, “you not want to?”

“Oh, Lena, I do, but it’s only..” She tucked her hair behind her ear, “I have to speak to you, first.”

Her eyes darted around the room. “What ‘ave I done? Or not done?”

“No, no, of course no. It’s only me.”

“Alright. All ears.”

Emily was sure there had to be a perfect way of doing this, but over the twenty odd years of her life, she had never quite found it. Words were, most people would agree, not Emily’s strong suit, and generally she was as content to listen to others talk as they were. The handful of times she had gotten far enough to want to tell someone, it had never come out the way she’d imagined, and as Tracer looked at her, she realized that new and better speech she kept planning wasn’t going to reveal itself this time either.

“I’m trans. I just--thought you should know, before.” She swallowed and looked off to the side, waiting.

Tracer rocked back on her heels and looked at Emily.

“Is that all? Doesn’t matter, I don’t care about that,” she stopped for a moment, “Sorry. You know,” she tilted her head quickly and leaned forward, trying to put herself back into Emily’s gaze, “it’s just now occurred to me why me Dad put it that way when I told ‘im I was gay, can’t really think of a better way to say it--suppose it didn’t urt that ‘e wasn’t the slightest bit surprised by the news--but wasn’t helpful to me then either.” She took Emily’s hand. “Thank you for telling me. I feel all the same about you as I did. I think you are absolutely beautiful, and I cannot believe me luck, sitting on the sofa with you. You ‘ave no reason to be shy with me. Still buzzing about being invited up, love.”

Emily let her shoulders relax a little. “I’m shy with everyone.”

“I ‘ope sincerely that it’s not that people ‘ave been cruel to you.”

“Not, I think I’m just a bit awkward, I mean,” Emily shook her head. “Most people haven’t known since I left school. But I don’t much,” she fiddled with the strap of her dress, “you know, see women.”

Tracer smiled. “Right. Let me show you something.”

She slipped her shirt off under her CA with a speed and grace Emily would not have guessed was possible, leaving only her CA and a sports bra. The first thing she noticed were the bright toucans on Tracer’s bra. The second thing she noticed was that Tracer was as spectacularly toned as she might have guessed given her quick strength, and she blushed.

The third thing she noticed were two deep and heavily puckered scars, right at the edge of her rib cage. Her eyes widened and she brought a hand to her mouth, without thinking, and then immediately realized Tracer must be seeing her, after being so kind to Emily, showing shock, and she might think it was disgust--

But Tracer gave that loud peal of a laugh that Emily loved so much. “I know! Terrible, innit? Man shot me.” She scowled a moment. “Thought ‘e was me friend, once upon a time, but ‘e did disabuse me of that notion, as Fareeha put it, you know, love, for all the times she pretends she doesn’t understand a bloody thing I’m saying she manages to put up quite the English vocabulary when it suits her, right? Right, absolute tosh--listen to me waffling on, me Dad always said I could talk for England--what I mean is, love, you ain’t the only one with a thing or two unusual. Say nothing about the machinery. I’m loads of things to get used to, right? So you and I are of a kind. Me more than you, even, ‘ave no doubt you look better with your clothes off than me, if you don’t mind me saying so, right? So you never need be shy with me, for I’ll always do me best. I ‘ave no doubt that I will say or do something unbelievably bloody stupid, and when that happens, I want you to say, ‘Lena, you bloody stupid cunt,” Emily laughed and shook her head, “--No love, I’m being very serious just now--Lena, don’t do that” and then I won’t.”

Emily looked at her. Tracer’s eyes were bright and sparkling, but full of sincerity. Even now, she had that little resting smile on her face that Emily had come to realize just sat there, as unhappiness did on others. There was something about Tracer that drew Emily in, that made her feel safe, and suddenly it felt true, that someone like Tracer could not mind. Suddenly it seemed silly to Emily that anyone had ever minded at all. She had so many explanations planned out, ways to make it okay for Tracer and assure her that there wasn’t much different about Emily, but it all seemed completely unnecessary in the moment.

She had been honest, when she said she didn’t care.

Emily reached her hand out and brushed her fingertips against the deep crater on Tracer’s stomach, and Tracer did not flinch away from her touch, even for a moment.

“It must have hurt terribly.”

Tracer shook her head. “You know, actually, I lost a great deal of blood very quickly, which doesn’t necessarily recommend itself but I will say made the pain a bit of a non-issue.” She laughed again. “Honestly, Winston’s more traumatized by it than I am, I only remember little bits of the thing. Lost some of me liver though, and I am sore about that, as I make quite a bit of use of it,” she looked down, “ as you can see by the fact that I lack a bit in the definition department.”

“You’re very handsome, Lena.” Emily said, still looking at the scar, unable to look Tracer in the eye when she said it.

“Well, you’re kind to say so.” Tracer put her hand on top of Emily’s. “I still am keen to root about the cabbages, so to speak, and I want you to know I won’t be put off so easily in future,” she grinned, “but if you’d rather not tonight, I understand that, as well.”

“Oh, but I don’t want you to go!”

Tracer took Emily by the shoulders. “I can stay then, love. ‘Appy to ‘ear it. Can stay all night, if you like. But we don’t ‘ave to do nothing.”

Emily leaned forward and put her head on Tracer’s shoulder, letting herself fall into her embrace. Tracer kissed her forehead.

“We can stay just like this, love.”

I love you, she wanted to say, I love you, and I feel excited and happy and utterly terrified at the fact. But, she reasoned, she had tripped over her own tongue enough for one evening, and in this moment, she thought she would have plenty of other chances. Tracer would stay. She kissed Tracer’s cheek and settled into her arms as Tracer laid back against the couch.

“You know, the scars aren’t even the worst of it, with me. ‘Ardware neither.”

“Oh?”

“Right, there’s the entirety of me personality to deal with, as well. Messy. Can’t pay attention to save me own life, sometimes quite literally, depending on who you ask. Touch of P--well, honestly, just ask Fareeha, when you meet her, she’s got a list of me negative qualities, I think. Probably alphabetized. Maybe categorical.”

Emily felt herself melt into Tracer and allowed herself the joy of a laugh.

The cool wind of October shook the trees outside, and litter blew along the street next to her shabby little London flat, and Emily had never been happier.

[movedyourchair505]

After Hours 

I know, no one asked for this. But if anyone was wondering a little bit about Matt’s backstory in NN (which no one was) and how he met his wife, here you go. Smut warning ~

x x 

“So...”

Along with the words, he could feel the dark pair of eyes on him, from the corner of his eye, and despite everything, it was soothing rather than challenging.

“'ow's it feel?”

He let his gaze wander before he offered a response, took in the dim lights that illuminated the inside of the club's darkness here and there, the silhouettes spinning around the shiny poles that the lights bounced off of, reflecting back to the glass-lined wall, the air thick with the smell of whisky bitterness and heavy perfume. He nodded slowly, licking his lips and taking a sip from his drink before looking back at the man to his left. “'s liberatin'...” He inhaled deeply. “'onestleh can't fank yeh enouf, Mr Turner.” He swallowed, diverted his gaze when he did too, another sip that burned down on his tongue, down the heat of his throat. He'd missed the taste, had sworn to himself between the exercise, the focus, the challenges he'd faced that he would never take his freedom for granted again, especially now that the man next to him had made a whole different life possible, the opportunities endless, and he would not waste a single one. He breathed out with content.

“Exquisite, innit?” He raised an eyebrow at the taller man to his right, nodding down to the glass in his hand.

“Bloodeh gorgeous,” he nodded. “What fookin' thrill.” He tilted his head to the side. “'n the view too.”

Turner chuckled. “Aneh of 'em tha' yeh fanceh, amico mio?” He scratched at his jaw as he looked out at the women across the club, dancing, illuminated on the stages. “Yeh pick one. I'll free a private room for yeh in the back, eh? Me treat.”

“Mr Turner...” He swallowed, though couldn't resist the undeniable temptation of the offer.

“Oh,” Turner waved it off, shaking his head. “Yeh work for meh now. Alexander t'yeh.”

He smiled, knew how lucky he could count himself due to the respect he'd earned himself from the most powerful man in the city. “Rehyt. Alexander.” He bit his lip, worried he'd overstep a boundary, but the look in the other man's dark eyes was genuine.

Turner chuckled, gesturing vaguely with his hand before his fingers closed around his glass again. “None of 'em are off limits.”

He swallowed again, looked around, his gaze having wandered, though continuously returned to the same light in the darkness, not too far from them, over and over again, the curves, moves familiar and he nodded towards the tall brunette. “'er.”

Turner followed his gaze, the indicating nod. “I mean, tha's not realleh... 'er line of work. Sheh usualleh joost dances.”

He scratched at his chin, nodding slowly, had already expected the response. “Yeh said none were off limits,” he chuckled, though let his gaze wander to find an alternative.

“Mm.” Turner hummed. “Tha's rehyt, Maffew.” He nodded. “I'll see wha' I can do.” He waved over one of the other security men, stating his command when the man leaned in to await instructions.

“Yeh said sheh dun't-...”

Turner waved it off. “Nobodeh says no teh Alexander Turner.”

He chuckled, pursing his lips, watching as the man wearing a suit identical to his own made his way over to the light Matthew hadn't been able to take his eyes off of, waited until the woman faced him, then beckoning for her to come down, and Matthew eyed the way her hips swayed, the way she shook her hair back as she was led off her stage by the hand and mere moments later stood right in front of them, the other member of security stepping into the back again.

“Mr Turner...” The woman smiled, taking a step towards him.

“'ello, darlin'...” Turner drawled, eyeing the strappy silver dress that clung to her body, accentuated her curves with cut out panels that left little to the imagination, her hair falling in loose waves over her shoulders. “Y'look luvleh...” There was a smile tugging on the corners of his lips. “'avin' a good night?”

“Always,” she smiled, tilting her head as she looked back at him, held his gaze when it met hers again.

“Look, doll,” he hummed. “Dun't wanna aneh pressure on yeh or nofin'...” He placed his hand on her lower back, leaning in as he angled her slightly to face Matthew. “But this is me good friend, Maffew...” He nodded over at him. “He likes yeh, why dun't yeh spend the night wif 'im? Mm?” He reached to stroke his thumb across her cheek. “I need yeh teh show 'im a good time.”

Her gaze wandered over to the man in question and she stepped away from Turner and closer to him instead, placing her hand on his shoulder as she looked him up at down, then back at Turner who raised an eyebrow at her questioningly, making her nod in response. “Hi, Matthew,” she smiled, the tone in her voice melodic.

“'ello...” He swallowed. “Y'look stunnin'. Nice t'meet yeh.”

“And you,” she said, her fingers moving through his hair at the back of his head as she came closer. “I'm Sapphire.”

“Got the room readeh for yeh, take 'im away, eh? Yeh'll beh compensated generousleh,” Turner promised.

She smiled back at him, had expected the reassurance, though would not have insisted on it, given the attraction to her employer's friend, the familiarity. “Thank you, Mr Turner,” she responded, before turning to the man who's hand was now resting on her lower back. “I'm happy to be of service.” She smirked, then walked ahead to lead the way, could feel both their gazes on her as her hips swayed, though before she could open the door, Matthew had caught up with her, his hand pushing down on the handle, then waiting for her to walk through, instantly following and they were shielded from the rest of the club.

She watched as he slowly crossed the room to sit and sink into the plush of dark velvet that lined the wall while her heels clicked on the floor on her way to the pole in the middle of the room, though she held his gaze when he looked back at her, gave a nod when she reached to wrap her fingers around the pole.

He smoothed his hands down his thighs as he leaned back and shifted to get comfortable, unable to take his eyes off her as she started to move, swaying slowly at first, but soon transitioning into the moves he still found somewhat familiar, getting lost in the way she ran her fingers through her hair, her eyes locked on his while she wrapped her leg around the pole, dipped her chest, her movements slow, seductive, capturing his full attention with ease, had his gaze trailing her curves, his fingers twitching.

He cleared his throat. “C'mere,” he hummed, undeniably impatient, moving his legs apart slightly as he watched her follow his command instantly, slow, her hips swaying as she approached him, came to stop once she stood between his legs, where she resumed her dance, teasing him purposefully with her every move, so close that he saw no reason to not touch her, his reaction instinctive as his hands found her hips, though surprised when she shifted into his lap without difficulty, straddling him, her hands on his shoulders.

“Is this what you want?” she hummed, adjusting herself in his lap, grinding, felt him squeeze her hips. She tilted her head to the side. “I haven't seen you here in a while...”

He swallowed, surprised she'd even noticed him before, raising an eyebrow at her.

She pursed her lips. “Where have you been?” she asked quietly, her tone inquisitive.

“Well...” He licked his lips, the innocence in her voice not escaping him, persuasive. “Were caught doin' summat I shouldn't 'ave done...” He cleared his throat again. “Got a year, but... Turner got me out earleh... I work for 'is securiteh now... joost came back...”

She nodded slowly. “Mm,” she hummed. “So you're going to be around more?”

“Definiteleh.”

Her movements had not quite ceased while she spoke, her awareness of the music somewhere in the distance ever-present, the way her hips were slowly working into his, seemingly unaware, but he was sure she knew – it was fuelling a fire within him.

“So how long's it been?” she breathed, leaning closer, her fingers brushing back his hair.

“I mean...” He pursed his lips. “Couple o' monfs...”

She pushed her bottom lip forward in a sultry pout, her eyes wide. “Oh, no...” She blinked back at him. “No one been taking care of you..”

His grip tightened impulsively when he sensed her intention of getting up, but he was soon eased when she attempted to push his knees apart, allowed her to sink down to her knees between his legs.

“This okay, Sir?”

The corners of his lips tugged upwards and he gave a slight shake of his head. “Nah, no need for tha', darlin'...” he drawled. “Joost Maffew.” He cleared his throat. “But... yeah...”

She sat up to busy herself undoing his belt buckle, unzipping the trousers of his black suit trousers. “Alright...” she hummed, lifting her gaze to his again, while slowly freeing him from the restriction of his underwear, wrapping her fingers around his already hard length, eliciting a sigh from him. She licked her lips, tilting her head to the side, a smile playing around her lips. “Matthew.”

“Oh, fook...” He swallowed, his adam's apple prominent, his neck tense. “Darlin'... wha's yehr real name, eh?”

She didn't hesitate, looked back at him fearlessly. “Fiorentina.”

He watched closely as she held his gaze while parting her lips, slowly pursing her lips around him and taking him into her mouth, making him throw his head back, his hand instantly grabbing a hold of the back of her head, fingers knotted into her hair. “Fookin'ell...” he sighed through gritted teeth.

She hummed with her lips wrapped around him tightly, stroking the base of his cock until she took all of him into her mouth, guiding him into the back of her throat and swallowing around his tip, making his hips buck up, her eyes sparkling with satisfaction.

“Oh, doll...” he drawled, pulling lightly on her hair to lift her off his cock for a moment, to gather himself, knew he wouldn't last long if he got carried away, it'd been too long.

“I'll go slow...” she promised, breathing out shakily, raising an eyebrow and taking him into her mouth again once he nodded, her tongue pressed to the underside of his cock as she slowly started bobbing her head, her gaze fixated on his, the depth of his eyes dark, wild.

His chest was heaving, his breathing irregular, her efforts leaving him unable to compose himself, torn between slowing her, pulling her hair, and grabbing the back of her head to fuck her mouth relentlessly, so eager to take more, to give her more, the way she stared back at him weakening his control.

There was a knock on the door that snapped him out of the trance she'd eased him into, the blur of pleasure and ease lifting as he gaze rose to the girl that opened the door, a tray with two glasses and a dark bottle in her hand. He nearly lost himself when the girl between his knees continued without missing a beat, didn't flinch, instead took him deeper into her mouth, once again swallowing around his tip, his eyes threatening to roll back into his head, but he tried to collect himself, clearing his throat before going to address the girl that placed the tray on the table, but she beat him to it.

“Don't let me distract you,” she smiled. “Complimentary drinks from Mr Turner.” She gave him a wink, then was out the door again a moment later.

“He's nice, isn't he?” Fiorentina hummed as she slowly came up to take a breath. “Mr Turner.”

Matthew swallowed, nodding slowly, unsure what fuelled him to tighten his grip on the back of her head, to push her right down on his cock again, would have been regretful had the purr that escaped her not almost pushed him over the edge, though he only slowed for a moment, then rising from his seat, pleased with the way she inched back slightly on her knees in an instant, gave him the room he needed and relaxing to allow him complete control of her, moaning around him as he picked up his pace as he fucked her mouth shamelessly, lost in the heat of the moment and grunting above her until he came too close when she swallowed around him again, tears in the corners of her eyes, the tightness of her throat, her lips, the friction her tongue offered too overwhelming and he pulled her back by her hair forcefully. “Fooook...” he rasped shakily.

She hummed, licking her lips, her eyes wide as she watched him sit back down, one quick nod from him and she shifted into his lap again, angling herself to line herself up with his cock once she'd pushed her thong to the side, and she could hardly catch her breath when he'd already grabbed the base of his cock and positioned her, his other hand on her hip, the second following, her head spinning when he forced her down on him and she mewled from the sudden sensation, the friction as he stretched her mercilessly, overwhelmingly intense. “O-Oh...”

He chuckled shakily, though the moment she attempted to lift her hips forcing her down again, reveling in the way she tightened around him to accommodate to his size, her eyes rolling back, her fingernails digging into his shoulders. “Yeees, doll...” he groaned appreciatively, taking a moment longer to gather himself, to enjoy filling her completely before he loosened his grip as a sign for her to start moving, patting her ass when she didn't straight away. “C'mon, luv...”

She giggled, then slowly lifted herself up to start working her hips into his, her hands in a tight grip on his shoulders, gasping when he bucked up his hips to meet her, encouraged her with his hand still on her hip, guiding her, his grunts, the way he moved her demanding a faster pace until she was bouncing in his lap to the sound of his deep groans, let him push and bend her however he pleased. She was aware of his need, his instinctive reactions and the way he'd lost all control of himself while he seemed in a complete blur of lust, of taking more, his head thrown back until she rolled her hips into his at a particular angle that didn't only make her see stars. His head snapped up and his wild gaze was fixated on her, his grip tighter on her in a silent demand.

“Do tha' again,” he rasped.

The urgency in his voice, the insistence left no room for her to stall or disobey and she repeated the movement, her own eyes threatening to roll back in her head at the way he stretched her, the friction as delicious as it was overwhelming and she whined as his hand came down flat on the small of her back to guide her, arch her, taking complete control of her body, the wild gaze in his eyes weakening her whenever she met them.

He was drunk on the way she moved, followed his every verbal and physical demand, was under a spell watching her, the curves of her body, couldn't hold back from grabbing, moving, bending, taking and craving more the more she gave him, getting lost in her so quickly that he barely knew what he was doing and could hardly handle the way he slowed the pace himself, his grip clamping down on her hips to still her movements, a guttural groan escaping him when her eyes met his, innocent, questioning momentarily why he'd stopped her before she tilted her head and nodded slowly.

“You feel good, Matthew?” she coaxed. “Because you're...” She leaned in, pecking his lips and running her fingers through his short hair, rolling her hips slowly into his, felt him pulsing inside her. “You're making me feel so good...” Her voice trailed off, gasping as his hand came up to wrap around her throat, angling her head as his thumb dug into her skin just below her chin, forced her eyes to stay on his.

“Yeh?”

“I've watched you when you were watching me...” she whispered, biting her bottom lip.

“'ave yeh now?”

She nodded to the best of her ability with his grip on her, whimpering as he stroked his thumb over her throat. “I'm glad you're back... Turner's lucky to have you for security...”

The corner of his mouth tugged upwards and he couldn't suppress the way she made him feel, his eyes widening when she moved her hips, had him to mesmerised on her face. “Fookin'ell...” he groaned, swallowing hard.

His grip tightened automatically on her throat, his rings digging into her skin and she gasped, only for him to loosen his grip with genuine concern. “How about a drink?” she whispered.

Matthew tried to collect himself, nodding slowly. “Mmm...” he nodded. “Get off meh.”

She needed no telling twice, grateful for the way he steadied her until she'd slid off him and regained her balance, her heels clicking on the ground as she made her way over to the table.

He watched her hips sway as she walked, her ass bouncing, her skin shiny with sweat, her silhouette a vision in the dark. His fingers twitched with an impulsive need to force her down the moment she bent forward slightly to pick up the bottle and unscrew the top. “Fook...” he sighed as he slowly rose from his seat and made his way over. “I'm gunna make yeh scream me name, darlin'...”

She turned to look at him over her shoulder, her eyes sparkling with excitement. “Yeah?”

He pursed his lips, taking the bottle from her. “Mmm,” he nodded. “Wha's yehr limit, doll?”

The way his eyes were locked on hers as he without sparing the glasses she handed him poured the drink and did not spill a drop had her knees weakening. She shook her head as if in a trance. “No limits, Sir.”

He raised an eyebrow.

“Matthew.”

The way her lips formed his name was almost too much and he tried to focus on the way their glasses met between them, though she still did not break his gaze, tempted him further as her eyes closed for a moment to savour the luxurious liquor. “Magnificent.”

He swallowed, could not stand waiting a moment longer. “Bend over the table,” he stated dryly, with all the control he had left put into his voice to steady his command. “'m gunna ruin yeh.”

She breathed out shakily, took another sip, then placed her glass down and followed his instructions without missing another beat, turning to look at him over her shoulder, but his hand was at the back of her neck in an instant, his palm hot against her skin from the glass.

“Down.”

She swallowed, her cheek pressed to the surface of the table, could feel him shuffling so opened her legs for him to step in between, earning herself an appreciative groan.

“Good girl.” His fingers were instantly between her thighs, though not teasing long before he was lined up with her again and filled her, too eager to build the pace slowly, too desperate for a warning and he held her where she was with his hand on her hip as she jerked forward, her body tense before she relaxed under his touch. “Shhh...” He smoothed his hand down her back, reveled in the way she adjusted, squirmed for a moment before she melted around him. “Thaa's a good girl...”

She whimpered, tried to brace herself for him really taking control.

“Are yeh alreyht, doll?” He leaned forward, shuffling to adjust himself so he had the leverage he needed.

As he filled her completely, pushed her onto the table, her heels slid off the ground, left her with absolutely no leverage and she turned around to look at him once his hand was no longer holding her down, instead taking hold of both her wrists behind her back. “Please...” she whispered with a nod.

He chuckled darkly before he drew back, then bucked his hips to fill her again, another two drawn out thrusts before he was bent over her and letting himself go, completely overwhelmed by the way she clung to him, clenched around him, the friction blissful, allowing him at least momentarily to forget the past few months and they were worth what his life was becoming now, how it was starting right then and there as the pace increased with every moment of the past he now wanted to let go, all his pent up frustration now coming to the surface as the girl in front of him begged for more, begged him to take it all out on her.

She could barely breathe, every push of his hips practically knocking the air from her lungs as he ruined her, fucked her down and coming true on his promise that he really would ruin her, proving her right that he had so much more to give, so much strength to demonstrate as she had no other choice but to take it all, asking for more although she had nowhere to go, nothing to hold onto, whining when he let go of her wrists to grip her hips and go even faster, the pace more punishing and she struggled to hold on, gripping the edge of the table and in the rush, the desperation knocking the half-full glasses to the ground, but he didn't miss a beat, she could merely hear a low chuckle, a squeeze of her hips and he fucked her faster, and she could feel him throbbing inside her, making sure she would feel him for the next few days in a way she hadn't for way too long and just as she thought he would fall over the edge, he slowed, though the anticipated moment to catch her breath was cut short when he leaned forward and reached to cup her throat, his other hand pressed flat to her abdomen as he pulled her up, stayed buried deep inside her as he held her with a tension in his arms, though nothing else to suggest that he couldn't maintain the same pace as before despite him being the only thing able to support her and he thrust up hard, making her whine loudly. “F-Fuck...”

“Mmm, tha's reyht, darlin'...” he hummed, his thumb dragging across her bottom lip before two of his fingers pushed inside her mouth, the way she sucked on them instantly making him tremble.

She was surprised by his voice, loved that he was more physical, actually gave what he promised rather than talking her through it. She could his heart pounding strongly against her back, her own not quite in sync. Her hair was stuck to her forehead, her dress bunched up, her breasts spilling out and she arched into him desperately as his hand closed over one of her breasts, squeezing, holding on while she had absolutely no way of keeping herself steady. She was completely at his mercy, had given everything up to him and it was only now that her eyes opened for a moment when he angled her head slightly and she met her own gaze in the mirror across the room, though her attention was quickly drawn to the expression on his face, somewhat gentle just for the moment, but she knew that any moment, he would completely ruin her.

“Look at yehrself, Fiorentina...” he drawled. “Absoluteleh stunnin'...”

She sighed, sucking harder on his fingers when his hips pushed up into hers again.

“Gorgeous, aren't yeh?” He slapped his hand across her chest lightly, watching her breasts bounce. “Mmm, luvleh tits...” he drawled. “Keep those pretteh eyes on meh, will yeh?”

She struggled to lift her gaze, keep it there, knew her eyes would roll back the moment he'd start fucking her again, that they'd close, that he was too much.

“Y'kno'... yehr cunt's real good...” Another buck of his hips that made her gasp. “Real fookin' tight... fits meh perfectleh...”

She swallowed, tears pearling down her cheeks at the intensity of him, the way he was so overpowering, and yet held her with complete security, tensing as his hand dragged flat down her body before her clit was pinched between his fingertips.

“Yeh got meh so close, if I'm honest...” he told her. “'n I want yeh teh let go wif meh, yeh? Please try 'n look at meh though, wanna see yehr face when yehr cunt melts on me cock...”

She could barely nod, could barely promise she could do what he asked.

“Been so long, doll, 'n yeh're an absolute dream, alreyht?”

“Matthew, mmm...” she mumbled, could hardly speak with his fingers in her mouth.

He nodded, gave a hum of satisfaction before his hips bucked into hers again, the way he picked up the pace almost impossible to adjust to, his fingertips now toying with her clit to the point where she could no longer focus on anything but the pleasure he promised, her mind so drunk on him, on lust and the desire to let go, knew that she could completely let herself go, but she tried precisely for that reason to fulfill his request, to force her eyes open when she sensed his punishing thrusts were nearing the final one and as her body tensed ultimately and he twitched inside her, she caught his gaze in the mirror and it intensified the pleasure that ripped through her to a high she hadn't quite felt the same way before, all of her tense, the pleasure precise to every nerve in her body it seemed until she fell limp in his arms and all of her relaxed as the heat of his release filled her.

For a moment, nothing but his heavy breathing behind her was audible, despite the way he'd let go, so hard, had gripped her so tightly, he'd held her securely while she'd lost all sense of where she was and as she managed to catch her breath, he still held her up safely until she managed to stand herself, his arms unwinding slowly from around her as he stepped back, though the moment he saw her tumble, his arm instantly looped around her waist again and she was pulled flush against him.

“Careful.”

His voice was low, but much quieter, much more in control. “Sorry,” she said quietly, a small smile playing around her lips and she moved to adjust her dress, could feel herself leaking already and hoped she would get a moment to clean herself up before getting back out.

“Yeh're alrehyt, yeh?” he asked once he was sure she could stand on her own.

She nodded slowly. “'course,” she said, blinking back at him and licking her lips. “You're... um...” She took a breath, her gaze wandering up and down his body, now redressed impeccably in his suit. He made it work better than any other member of security of Turner's she'd seen. “Strong.”

He raised his eyebrows, shaking his head slowly, unable to keep himself from laughing quietly. He scratched at his chin, knew she would walk out the door soon, had done what was expected of her, but he hated the thought of it. “Didn't get t'finish our drinks, did weh?”

She smiled. “Not entirely my fault.”

He chuckled. “Quite reyht,” he agreed. “So I'll get yeh a new one. Sit wif meh at the bar, will yeh, doll?”

“Will I?”

“'ope so,” he drawled. “I mean... I'd beh lyin' if I said I were readeh for yeh teh not beh mine anymore alreadeh...”

“I'm still here.”

“Fink I want yeh all night. Turner might not beh tha' generous so I'll pay wha' it takes.”

She took a hold of his wrist for a moment, looking at his watch. “Technically, my shift ends in a few minutes.”

He met her gaze, waiting for her to continue and enlighten what was unpredictable to him now.

“But I'll stay with you after hours.”

He opened his mouth, but she beat him to it, her hands smoothing down his chest.

“No money involved.” She leaned into him as soon as she felt his hands on her hips to guide her towards the door. “Just you and me, Matthew.”

[rmtndew]

All I’ve Ever Known ~ Chapter 4

Summary: Fiona’s life is a shattered fraction of what it used to be. She’s trying to navigate her new normal when she meets Detective Marshall, who gives her something more to look forward to.

Pairing: Marshall and OFC.

Rating: PG

Warnings: Mentions of death, cancer.

A/N - This was intended as a short drabble but it got out of hand and became a multi-chapter story instead. It’s my first Marshall fic and the first fan fic that I’ve written in over a decade. The title comes from the song ‘All I’ve Ever Known’ from Hadestown: ‘I was alone so long, I didn’t even know that I was lonely. Out in the cold so long, I didn’t even know that I was cold. Turned my collar to the wind, this is how it’s always been. All I’ve ever known is how to hold my own, but now I want to hold you, too.’

Tag list - @hollydaisy23​​, @readings-of-a-cavill-lover​​, @onlyhenrys​​, @omgkatinka​​, @speakerforthedead0-blog​​, @gearhead66​​,  @thethirstyarchive​, @oddsnendsfanfics​, @littlerinoa, @agniavateira​, @aaescritora​,

If you’d like to be added to the tag list, let me know!

Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5

I woke the next morning ten minutes before my alarm went off. At first I couldn’t figure out why and tried burrowing back into my warm bed to get my last few minutes of sleep back, but then my phone alerted me to a new text and I realized that’s what had woken me up. I sighed. I knew it was Darcy. Sometimes she woke up early with big ideas for her store and texted them to me, asking my opinion. She met me when I was working in interior design and any time she entertained the idea of having a dine in section, she’d send me pictures of what she wanted and ask how feasible it would be. Most of the time they were way too grand to fit into her pre-existing building. Other times she’d talk about a small coffee shop to encourage more people to come in and pick up their own orders and cut back on our deliveries. But I couldn’t see how renovating a portion of the store, buying new equipment and hiring extra employees to run a coffee shop would lower costs just by maybe cutting back on some deliveries. 

I was planning on ignoring the text until after I’d actually gotten up, but when another came through I knew it was best to just go ahead and nip it in the bud before she sent me an entire magazine’s worth of photos. But when I hit the home button on my phone I saw that the texts hadn’t come from Darcy. I had to squint against the brightness of the screen to make sure I saw the name right. Marshall.

I sat up and turned on my lamp, then looked at my phone again, reading the texts from their previews. 

Hey, it’s Marshall. I had a great  time yesterday. Sorry I was falling asleep on you. Can I make it up  to you this weekend?

Sorry. You’re probably sleeping. It might take more than coffee to make it up to you now. Dinner?

I suddenly felt wide awake and was no longer irritated by my few minutes of missed sleep. I would have gladly given up several hours for those texts. I decided not to reply to them right then, though. I wanted to make sure I’d had enough coffee to formulate a comprehensible reply and not look like I was drunk texting him, which I had a history of. My conversations with Darcy at five in the morning were proof of that. 

I got up and went about my morning routine like usual, trying not to wake Mom. When I made my way downstairs, I poured a cup of coffee and sat at the table. I sipped it, thinking about what to say to Marshall. I wrote and rewrote the text half a dozen times before finally having something I felt okay with, then I sent it.

Hey Marshall. I had a great time, too. You don’t have to make up for anything but I’d still like to have dinner with you. What day did you have in mind?

My heart was thudding from nerves and excitement. I was so focused on trying to calm myself down that I almost didn’t hear Mom when she walked in.

“Morning, sweetie,” she said, grabbing a coffee cup.

“Good morning,” I replied, then jumped slightly as my phone vibrated on the table. I tried not to look too enthusiastic as I grabbed it. 

Does Saturday work for you?

“Darcy again?” Mom asked, pouring coffee for herself. 

“Um...no, actually.” I tried biting back a smile but it didn’t work. “It’s Marshall.”

Her eyes went wide and she smiled back. “He’s writing to you at six in the morning?”

“He actually wrote me earlier. He asked if I wanted to have dinner with him Saturday.”

She sat down at the table beside me. “What did you tell him?”

“I haven’t replied yet. I don’t want him to think I’m just waiting by the phone for him.”

She looked at the phone in my hand. “Isn’t that exactly what you’re doing, though?”

“Yes, but he doesn’t have to know it.”

She laughed then blew on her coffee. “I’m glad this whole texting business wasn’t around when I was dating your father.”

“Even if it was, you’re a lot more forward than I am. You wouldn’t have had a single issue with texting Dad first, or answering him right away,” I said. My phone made another sound, reminding me of my unread text and I finally opened it, then replied. 

Saturday is perfect. What time  would you like to meet? 

“Well, there was only room enough for one coy person in our relationship and Rodger called that role,” Mom said after I put my phone down. 

I laughed. “I don’t think ‘coy’ was the right word for Dad. I think socially awkward was more appropriate.”

“He was too smart to be a social butterfly, too. He had to have a couple of flaws.”

“He couldn’t set the timer for the coffee pot, no matter how many times I showed him, and he thought that the Sharknado movies were amazing. He had his flaws,” I joked.

“This coffee pot is confusing.”

“He was an engineer!”

My phone buzzed in my hand and that time I didn’t wait to open the text. I read it right away. 

Would you let me pick you up  instead? Around six?

“Well, what does he say?” Mom asked.

“He wants to pick me up instead of me meeting him.”

“Are you going to let him?” 

I looked at her and she was smiling at me. I shook my head at her, laughing again. “You want him to come here so that you can see him, don’t you?”

She shrugged. “You keep talking about how handsome he is.”

“He is handsome. And it’s an awfully gentlemanly thing to do…” I bit my lip for a moment, pretending to think it over.

“Just tell him yes. We both know you’re going to.”

I gave another laugh. “Fine.”

I would like that, thank you. And  I’m curious, what does Detective  Marshall eat when he’s not eating a  cuban sandwich and plain chips?

I put my phone on the table. “What are your plans for today?” I asked, then took a sip of my coffee. 

She gave me a cheeky grin. “Changing the subject.”

I rolled my eyes. “I’m not changing the subject. I’m asking what my mother is going to be doing while I’m out earning the bread for this family,” I joked.

She snorted. “You don’t earn the bread, Fi, you just bake it.” She nodded at my arm. “And burn yourself in the process.”

“That’s the first time I’ve burnt myself in a year and a half. I’d say that’s a pretty good record.”

“That’s true,” she said. “And if you must know, I was thinking of going down to Valley and talking to Georgia about starting music lessons again after the new year. I think by then I’ll have recovered enough to be able to teach at least a few days a week.”

“You’re going to put yourself around snot nosed kids in the dead of flu season?” I asked dryly.

“I’ll be teaching teenagers, not little kids, and I’ll wear a mask,” she said. “I’ll make sure to clean everything between students and have them use hand sanitizer when they come in. I’m not going to be immunocompromised forever, and I’m not going to live in a bubble until then, either.” She gave me a smirk. “Besides, I can’t let you be the only one that earns the bread around here.”

I laughed at her but it was cut short when my phone buzzed again. 

Stuff that’s probably not very  good for him. Like Italian.  How does that sound?

Just when I thought I couldn’t be any more attracted to him, he confessed to liking my favorite type of food. I couldn’t stop my train of thought that went to me one day making an Italian dinner for him as a date. But my mind’s eye set up the imaginary dinner in my old apartment and I knew that would never happen. I let that thought go and took a deep breath, trying to focus my attention on the present moment.

That sounds great. I love  Italian food.

I sent it and sat back in my seat. I tried not to let my mind wander too far down the road with Marshall. I’d been on a lot of first dates in my life with guys that I’d thought were great who turned out to be jerks and I knew what that disappointment felt like. And even though I couldn’t imagine Marshall disappointing me in the same way they had - he’d proven at our coffee date that he was far more respectful, even while he was tired - I wanted to remind myself that I needed to take things one step at a time. 

Perfect. I’ll see you  Saturday at six, then.

I must have looked pretty gooey eyed over the whole thing because Mom reached out and touched my wrist gently. When I looked at her, the teasing tone was gone from her face and she was smiling at me. “I’m happy for you, sweetie. I really am.” 

I was a ball of nerves all Saturday morning and afternoon. More than I’d ever been on the day of a first date. But nothing with Marshall fell into my ‘usual’ category. There was something about him that made him different from any other man I’d gone out with. And maybe that was it: He was a man. Not some boy masquerading as one. He was quiet, and fierce, and protective. He thought before he spoke. And even when delivering a threat - like he had to that creep in the bar - he’d done it calmly and with authority. He exuded confidence, not cockiness, and there was honestly nothing more attractive than that. 

I was nearly ready, just zipping up my boots, when I heard a crash downstairs. I rushed down and found Mom in the kitchen, trying to pick up the broken pieces of one of her giant coffee mugs.

“I’m - I’m not sure what happened,” she said. “I just lost my grip.”

���It’s okay.” I took a step towards her, trying to avoid the pile of porcelain. “Let me clean it up.” 

“I can do it,” she said, sounding flustered.

“I know you can but you’re in socks and I’m wearing boots.”

She stood her ground for a moment, then finally sighed and relented, taking a step back. “Okay. I’ll get you the broom.”

“It’s fine. I’ll get it. Just watch your step.”

I went to grab the broom as she threw away the large chunks of her broken cup that she’d been able to pick up with her hands. I could tell she was frustrated. 

“You know, if you didn’t like that mug, you could have just gotten rid of it, you didn’t have to break it,” I joked, taking the broom and dustpan from the broom closet. “Or were you afraid I wouldn’t take the hint and buy you another one if I thought it just went missing?” 

She gave a small laugh but I could tell she was still embarrassed. “I actually liked that coffee mug a lot.”

“I’ll get you a new one.”

“You don’t have to do that. I can -” 

The doorbell rang and she stopped mid-sentence. We both froze, my eyes flicking to the clock on the stove. It was 5:53. Marshall was early. After a moment, Mom took a step towards me, holding out her hand to take the broom from me. I shook my head.

“You’re wearing socks,” I reminded her. “I don’t want you to cut your foot.”

Her eyes grew wide. “So you’re going to clean up after me while I go meet your date?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

She brushed her hand over her barely there hair, trying to collect herself, then let out a breath. “Okay, I’ll go let him in.”

“Don’t be too charming. He might have a thing for cougars and I don’t want to have to fight my mom for a guy.”

She smiled for real, the embarrassment of having her daughter clean up after her letting go enough that it was no longer plainly visible. “No promises,” she joked, then left the kitchen to answer the door. 

It didn’t take long to clean up. Even though the cup had shattered pretty good, its bright white color stood out against the dark wood of the floor, making even the tiniest pieces easy to see. After making sure I’d cleaned it all up, I threw away the pieces and put up the broom and dustpan, then went to find Mom and Marshall. 

They were standing in the entryway. Mom was saying something about teaching at Valley and Marshall stood in front of her, his hands clasped behind his back, and a look of sincere focus on his face as she spoke. Mom was a small woman but next to him, she looked comically tiny. 

I paused for a moment, taking him in. His hair looked a bit more controlled than any other time I’d seen him, his curls tighter and not quite as messy. His beard looked like it had been trimmed, giving it a purposeful look instead of the ‘I’m too busy to shave’ vibe that I’d gotten from him previously. He wore a thick blue sweater that made the color of his eyes pop when they drifted over to me. It was brief, maybe less than a second, before concentrating on Mom again. But he had a slight smile and it was enough for her to notice. She turned and looked at me. 

“There she is. I guess I’ll stop talking your ear off and let you two go,” she said. 

Marshall smiled at her, then at me, bigger that time. “I didn’t realize I was early. I apologize.” 

“No, don’t. You’re fine,” I said, moving to grab my coat. “I’m ready, I was just cleaning up a broken cup. I’m basically like Cinderella around here.” 

Mom snorted. “Hardly. Cinderella was made to do chores. You’re the one who won’t let me lift a finger,” she said. “Besides, I think she sang while she worked.”

I raised my eyebrow at her as I put my coat on. “Do you want me to sing?”

She shook her head. “No. No one wants that, sweetie,” she said, making Marshall laugh. She looked at him. “Fi spent a good portion of her teenage years screaming along to music in her room. I didn’t even know you could make ‘Girls Just Wanna Have Fun’ sound angry until she proved otherwise. Needless to say, her father and I encouraged her other interests a bit more enthusiastically.”

I grabbed my purse. “I should have let you clean up your own mess and answered the door myself,” I joked before kissing the top of her head. “Bye, Mom.”

Marshall smiled again. “It was nice meeting you, Mrs. Sparks.”

“Likewise, Detective Marshall. You two have fun.”

We left the house and after a few steps down the walkway, he jabbed his thumb back at the door. “She’s funny.”

“She can be,” I agreed. “She’s a spitfire, though, that’s for sure.”

“I like it.”

“Yeah, I like it, too.”

We walked to his truck and he opened the door for me. “You look gorgeous, by the way,” he said as I got in. 

I felt myself blush instantly, caught off guard by the compliment. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” he said, closing the door for me. 

We’d only made it to the driveway and my stomach was already doing somersaults. He made me feel like a teenage girl, all giddy and excited, and I loved it.

He went around the front of the truck, then climbed in the driver’s side. I tried to sneak a look at him while he was putting on his seat belt but he caught me. He smiled as I snapped my head straight ahead. 

“Sorry, I just, I was…” I tried to think of an excuse but I couldn’t think of anything that didn’t sound lame. I let out a sigh. “I was checking you out,” I admitted. “I can’t lie. There’s no point. Sorry.”

“That’s the least offensive thing a woman has ever apologized to me for,” he said with a laugh, starting the truck. He leaned forward enough to catch my eye, making me instinctively turn my head towards him. He grinned. “Did you see anything you like?”

My blush deepened and I couldn’t hold back a giggle. “Maybe.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. I mean, that is a nice sweater.” 

“Oh, so you were checking out my jumper?”

I shrugged. “It brings out your eyes.”

“Does it now?”

“It does. And you have very lovely eyes.”

“Thank you,” he said. “But my daughter bought the jumper, so I can’t take credit for it.”

“She did a good job,” I said, forcing my eyes to look up front as we pulled out of the driveway. Even though I’d already admitted to checking him out, there was a difference between looking and leering and I didn’t want to come off as creepy. “I take it that this wasn’t your weekend to have her?”

“It was supposed to be but she was invited to a Halloween party with some of her friends so she asked to do that instead. She’ll be with me tomorrow.”

“What did she dress as? For the party.”

“A cowgirl.” 

“Does she ride horses or did she just like the costume?” 

“No, she rides. She took lessons when she was a bit younger. And she and I go riding some weekends.” 

“So you’re Detective Marshall during the week and cowboy Marshall on the weekends? Does that ever cross over? Do they have mounted police in the homicide unit?”

He shook his head as he laughed. “No, not that I’m aware of.”

“That’s a shame.”

“Is it now?” he asked, and his tone made me blush all over again.

“I’m actually not going to answer that. I’m going to wait until we get a little further from my house to fully embarrass myself so that when you fake an emergency to get rid of me, my ego doesn’t get too crushed.”

“Do you really think I’d do that?”

“I hope not, but I’ve been excited about having dinner with you, so I’m going to try not to mess it up.”

“I think you’d have to try pretty hard to mess it up,” he said as we stopped at the end of my street. He glanced at me. “And I’ve been excited about it, too.”

[thecursedhellblazer]

‘ღ’ (for Oliver, Caligo and Sanguis xD if I may be so greedy!)

Attraction meme || Accepting !

John & Oliver

Romantic attraction: none | very low | low | medium | high | very high | extreme Sexual attraction: none | very low | low | medium | high | very high | extreme Aesthetic attraction: none | very low | low | medium | high | very high | extreme Sensual attraction: none | very low | low | medium | high | very high | extreme

“Woh can I say? Yeh seen ‘im? I gots eyes. N’, trust me, naked ‘s even be’er. ‘Sides, Queen n’ I ‘ave been datin’ for a while now so.” A shrug. “I dun...I ‘aven’t said th’ bloody words yet, ‘cause bad shite tends to ‘appen whene’er I even jus’ think ‘bout doin’ so, but...Last time I ‘ad a relationship like this one, it was wit’ Kit. N’ tha’ says it all.”

---

John & Caligo

Romantic attraction: none | very low | low | medium | high | very high | extreme Sexual attraction: none | very low | low | medium | high | very high | extreme Aesthetic attraction: none | very low | low | medium | high | very high | extreme Sensual attraction: none | very low | low | medium | high | very high | extreme

“...I’ll admit tha’ th’ bastard gots ‘is appeal. He can dress ‘imself n’ he can use tha’ rough charm o’ ‘is decently...even tho ‘m way be’er at it. For th’ most, he’s still a fuckin’ prick first n’ foremost tho.”

---

John & Sanguis

“I ne’er met th’ bloke, so I gots not’in’ to say ‘bout ‘im...yet. Sounds like one o’ those folks who gots a stick so far up their arses tha’ makes yehs ‘urt too. Tho, ‘m curious. N’, if there’s somet’in’ life told me...Ne’er say ne’er.”

[ourcollectivefantasy]

39, 45, 88, 98, 122, and 153!

39). Have you ever been sexually attracted to the boyfriend of a friend?

“Mm. I try ta put it out me mind if t’e couple aren’t into it. Been a few. Arandoros pops ta mind t’e most - t’ough I t’ink I met ‘im at a blokes poker night. We dinnae even get along at first. He were a bloodknight so I read ‘im like a cop at first.” He chuckles. “He grew on me, ta say t’e least. But never in tha way, o course. He’s straight, far as I ken it. T’ough I got t’e impression tha t’ey may ‘ave discussed it as an option at one point.”

45). A sexual fantasy that has not been completed yet?

“Well. Speakin o couples, I’m keen ta be a couples cuckold. I’ve come close at times, but we’re all usually good mates an it all feels more like an extended t’reesome. I’d like ta almost ... I dunnae... be hired out by a couple? Wear a marsk, do a bit o roleplay. Home invasion t’rough t’e window, tie up ‘er husband an make ‘im watch me fekk ‘is wife senseless. Make ‘er cum like she’s never come fer ‘im sort o t’ing. It’d all be prearranged before ‘and o course... but I’m keen on t’e fantasy o it.

I doubt anyone would be interested in tha level o intensity t’ough? I’d be ‘appy jest ta get hired on some night while a bloke video tapes me shagging ‘is wife. Mayhap an Alliance couple. Lassie tha’s never been wit’ an Elf or summat.”

88). Has someone told you that they loved you, and you didn’t love them back?

“Mm. Definitely. More’n once, unfortunately. I’ve even ‘ad some lassies come after me wit’ hellfire after I ended t’ings because o it. I learned a long while back ta make it clear up front, before anyt’in ‘appens, tha I aren’t looking fer anyt’in wit feelings involved.”

98). Is the person you lost your virginity to still in your life.

He looks startled an alarmed at first, but then his expression shifts into deep, seething hatred. “Gods above, I pray she aren’t. I hope she’s been picked apart like a fly in t’e Nether.”

122) Which part of your body do you consider most Sexy?

Answered here.

153) What fruit do your balls most resemble?

He laughs, “Och, gods above. I dunnae?! Like two wee kiwis smuggled inta a bag?” He cannot stop laughing at this one though.

thanks @twosidedsana / mentions @arandoros & @naivaria 

[icyharrington]

Fever Dreams (Michael Langdon X Reader)

im just gonna go ahead and apologize for the fact that i literally did not proofread this at all bc im tired as fuck and have to wake up so fucking early tomorrow. i had so many technical difficulties writing this so i sincerely hope y’all enjoy reading this lmao

plot: (slight au taking place pre-apocalypse, in which miss robichaux’s academy integrates with the hawthorne school.) you can’t stand michael langdon. michael langdon wants nothing more than to get under your skin.

warnings: fem!Reader, intercourse, rough sex, dirty talk, spanking, school uniform michael 

word count: 3.1k

i.

“This is the best day ever,” whispered one witch to you, her eyes widening as a gaggle of fresh-faced men in well tailored uniforms strode into the dining room of Miss Robichaux’s academy.

“This is stupid,” you said bitterly, stabbing a fork into your food. “Integrating Miss Robichaux’s with Hawthorne is going to do nothing but distract us from the real important things.”

“Depends what you consider to be important,” said another witch. “I haven’t gotten dick in over a year.”

You rolled your eyes. You were the top witch in your class, and it was often whispered amongst your peers that you were next in line to become supreme. There was no way you’d let a bunch of testosterone-filled man-children get in the way of that, no matter how badly Cordelia wanted to be “inclusive”.

From the corner of your eye, you could see a man approaching you and your classmates. You refused to look over, taking a bite of food and staring blankly at the white wall across from you with as unfriendly of an expression on your face as you could manage.

“Ladies,” came a smooth voice, and you indulged yourself in a single discreet glance just to see what the guy looked like. He was tall, with well styled blond hair framing his face, which even you could admit had some top quality bone structure. He gave a small smile, but you could tell even through his polite demeanor that he was quite confident.

“My name is Michael Langdon. Thank you for welcoming us Hawthorne boys to your school,” he said, and you didn’t even have to look at your classmates to know that they were flustered. Stifling another eye roll, you turned your attention back to your plate.

“Hi Michael,” said the girl next to you, her voice breathy. She wasn’t even attempting to seem calm, which irritated you even further. The last thing this guy needed was an ego boost. You watched from the corner of your eye as he bowed slightly at the hip, his hand extended for her to shake.

He cleared his throat, and the girl on your other side nudged you slightly to get your attention. You looked up, and realized he was offering you his hand now. You just stared at it like it was a foreign object, hoping to piss him off.

He cocked an eyebrow at you and ran his tongue along his bottom lip.

“And you are?” He said. You were pleased to hear that he had the tiniest twinge of annoyance in his voice. Typical attractive boy, getting his ego bruised the minute a girl didn’t fawn all over him.

“(Y/n). I actually happen to be the top of the class here, and I don’t intend to let your kind get in the way of that.”

His lips turned up slightly on one end as his eyes surveyed you, and he crossed his arms in front of his flawlessly pressed blazer. “My kind?”

“Yes. Your kind. Men.” Maybe you were getting a tiny bit carried away with the bitch act, but something about this Michael Langdon character made you want to put him in his place. You had the feeling he was used to getting whatever he wanted whenever he wanted.

“Quite a backwards attitude to have in this day and age, don’t you think?”

“Maybe,” you said coolly. “But it’s the truth that women are superior in the art of witchcraft. So unless you need a tutor, I have no interest in interacting with you.” You stood up with a flourish, your chair screeching noisily against the wooden floor, and started on your way out.

You couldn’t help but look over your shoulder, though, to see his reaction. He simply stood there, hands in his pockets, an indecipherable expression across his face as he watched you. If you didn’t know any better, though, you might have even thought he was smiling.

ii.

It was a Saturday afternoon and you were practicing divination, your worst subject, in the living room. You’d asked one of your classmates to hide a series of objects throughout the room, and you were stuck as you tried to figure out the location of the final object, an old-fashioned golden pocketwatch.

You rubbed your temples and looked towards the ceiling, mumbling to yourself as you tried, unsuccessfully, to lift the fog in your mind.

You were so wrapped up in focus that you hardly noticed the sound of dress shoes crossing the wooden floor, and nearly jumped out of your skin when you heard a voice mere inches away from you.

“Is this what you’re trying to find?”

Your eyes shot open, only to find Langdon standing over you, a smug grin on his face as he dangled the watch out in front of him. Jumping to your feet from the couch, you snatched the object from his hand.

“Who told you where that was?”

“Nobody,” he said, pleased to witness your frustration. “Well, besides myself. I AM the top of my class in divination, you know.” There was a twinge of mocking to his tone, and you shot him a scowl.

“What are you even doing here?”

“What, am I not allowed to stroll the halls of my own lovely school?” he said, looking at you with mischief glinting in his piercing blue eyes. “The walls call out to me. I’m always hearing my name, echoing in and out of every corner.”

He stepped closer to you, and you scoffed. “Do you happen to excel in clairvoyance? Because those whispers might be all the thirsty girls at this school having wet dreams about you.”

He chuckled. “Does that bother you?”

“Why the fuck would that bother me?” you snapped, gathering your bag from the ground and swinging it over your shoulder. “Other than the fact that no one here gives a shit about witchcraft anymore, just about getting dicked down.”

“If it makes you feel any better, I haven’t been particularly interested in any of the girls here.”

“And I should care... why?” you brushed past him, huffing something about personal space issues under your breath as you tried to made your way to the door. Something, however, kept a hold on you, and your feet remained planted to the floor as Michael took a step closer to you.

“I think you’re jealous, (y/n),” he said, smirking again as he watched your face contort into anger. “Of the way I’m desired. Of the way I can have anyone I want. I can fuck a different witch every single day if I wanted to.” His voice was soft, seductive. Something swirled in the depths of your stomach as he spoke, but you ignored it.

You gaped at him, disgust blooming through you as you made another attempt to get away, in vain. “You really are a pompous dick.”

“Maybe,” he said, lips just inches from yours. You flinched, readying your fist at your sides to pummel him should he try anything. “But you, my dear, are a bitter bitch.”

With that, the hold on you broke, and you hurried towards the door. “Go fuck yourself,” you said, seething, not bothering to look at him.

“You’d like to see that, wouldn’t you?”

You knew it only fueled him when you gave him a reaction, but you couldn’t help it; flicking your wrist, you sent a book on the coffee table flying at his head, missing by mere centimeters as it slammed against the wall.

He only laughed, a low, deep luscious laugh that you knew you’d hear in your dreams.

Fucking asshole.

iii.

Lustful moans filled the air alongside the sound of skin slapping together, raw and vulgar, and you panted words that didn’t exist as the faceless man behind you thrust inside your walls.

The paintings on the walls watched you, the supremes of long ago casting shameful gazes upon your naked body.

You didn’t care.

There were hands on your body, hundreds of hands, some hot as embers and others cold as snow, and the all-white room seemed to stretch for miles and miles, the door evading you further with each second coaxing you closer to orgasm.

Michael, Michael, Michael, you thought, or said, or whatever it was, you couldn’t be quite sure, but your eyes were rolling back into your head now, lolling all the way until you could see the inside of your skull, and your brain, slimy and gray.

The world went white, but the man kept thrusting in you, taking you over, and you noticed a droplet of blood fall from your nose and onto the pristine, empty expanse of the ground.

AVE SATANAS, said a booming voice, and in that moment you came, harder than you ever had in your life, gasping for breath as your body convulsed with electrically charged pleasure.

When you woke up, it was past midnight, and you were drenched in a cold sweat. There was a throbbing ache between your legs, but you ignored it, begging the universe to let you fall back asleep undisturbed.

In the morning, you weren’t able to recall much about the dream, but there was no way you could forget the name which had repeated itself throughout like a taunt against your sanity.

Michael.

iv.

You were bothered enough by your dream that you opted out of the outing Cordelia had planned for everyone the next day. Her plan was to show the new students some of the most important magical landmarks around New Orleans, and you’d actually been pretty excited to go. Now, though, you’d much rather stay in your room and far away from Michael.

Whether or not your dream meant anything, he irritated you, and you didn’t feel like being put in a bad mood for the umpteenth time this week. So you stayed back, reading in your bed for a while, before you decided that you’d get something to eat from the kitchen.

Wearing only a skimpy tank top and shorts, you always feeling far too warm in the New Orleans heat, you rifled through the kitchen cabinets before deciding to have some Cheerios. You didn’t have much of an appetite at all, but you needed to eat something, so cereal was your meal of choice. You poured a bowl and headed back to the dining room, enjoying the fact that you had the usually chaotic house all to yourself.

Well, that’s what you thought, at least. You nearly dropped your bowl of cereal onto the ground in shock upon entering the dining room and seeing the last fucking person you wanted to see standing there, a bemused expression across his face.

“Michael,” you exclaimed, stopping in your tracks, all at once feeling extremely exposed in your revealing sleepwear. You put the bowl down before wrapping your arms around your prominent cleavage, embarrassment flooding your body as his blue eyes scanned your body not-so-discreetly.

“Fancy seeing you here,” he said with a smile. You had a sneaking suspicion that he knew you’d stayed home to avoid him, and so he, too, had decided to stay back to give you an unpleasant surprise.

The only difference between the two of you, though, was that he was wearing his uniform, impeccably ironed and suited perfectly to his frame. This only increased the flush in your cheeks, and you avoided his gaze as best as you could. “Michael, why are you here?”

“Wasn’t feeling up to the trip,” he said, bored, taking a step around the dining table to come closer to you, dragging his toe lightly on the ground as he did.

“Bullshit,” you said, backing away just slightly. “You stayed here so you could fuck with me.”

“Now what would ever make you think that?” He tilted his head to the side pensively, eyes searing into yours, and you felt your stomach drop. “Silly little witch. You really think I care that much about you?”

“Oh, please. It’s so obvious that you wanna get under my skin.”

He took another step towards you. You backed up again, steadily, keeping your eyes on him as your breaths drew shorter.

“And have I?” He asked, looking down at you, and it was then that you realized how much taller he was than you. You swallowed nervously, taking another shaky stride back as he cornered you even further, your back coming closer and closer to the wall with each step. “Have I gotten under your skin?”

You shuddered, remembering the dream, and suddenly you felt powerless, like he could wipe out your existence at any given moment. You knew he liked you to feel this way, utterly helpless, and your brain screamed at you to react. To throw him across the room with a single flick of your hand. But you didn’t.

“I think I have,” he said, coming closer, and you were startled by a thud as your back hit the wall behind you. He had you cornered now, so you just stood there, looking at him like a deer in headlights.

“You’re such a fucking dick,” you said, fists balled at your side, but you had no intentions of using them.

“Hm? And what are you going to do about it?”

His lips brushed your cheek, sending a harsh chill down your spine. Your throat defied you, letting out a soft whimper, and then his lips were on yours. Without a moment’s hesitation, you kissed him back, unable to resist him as he consumed you. Your hair stood on end at his touch, his hands grazing down your hips and onto your ass, squeezing greedily.

He hummed in your ear softly, his hand reaching up to grip your neck. “See, isn’t this what you wanted all along?”

You couldn’t bring yourself to reply; he lifted his knee up between your legs, smirking as you gasped at the sudden contact. You rocked your hips forward, hissing at the feel of his dress pants between your thighs, and he kissed you again, hungry and authoritative.

He wrapped his hands under your bare thighs, hoisting them up to wrap around his waist, and once he had a proper hold on you, he turned around and tossed you onto the dining table. You pulled him towards you by the front of his shirt, connecting your lips with his and sliding your tongue between his teeth.

He pulled off your top and didn’t waste a second before roughly groping your breasts, leaning forward to suck one nipple hard while rolling the other between two fingers, occasionally applying a jarring pinch. Then he flipped you over onto your stomach, clearly eager to get to the real action, your breasts flattening against the cold wooden table as your bare feet grazed the ground. He pulled your shorts and underwear down in one go, leaving you entirely vulnerable and naked in his presence. It made it worse that he hadn’t undressed himself at all, but something about being so submissive to him turned you on more than you’d care to admit.

He massaged both of your ass cheeks, spreading them apart and reaching one hand under you to slide between your slick folds. “So fucking wet for me,” he muttered, digging his fingernails into your skin, causing you to whine slightly.

“Since you’ve acted like a bitch for the duration of us knowing each other, I have no choice but to treat you like one,” he said, gripping your right ass cheek before giving it a hard, firm slap. You surged forward, but he yanked you back towards him, giving you another slap on the other cheek, harder this time.

You moaned, and he gave you another spank. “You like being treated like a bitch? Huh?” He asked, grabbing a fist full your hair and yanking it back. “Answer me,” he demanded.

“Yes, Michael, fuck,” you grunted, your words separated with each spank he gave you, each one harder than the next. You were sure your ass would be covered in his hand prints for the next week, but you didn’t care.

He paused, and you could hear the tell tale sound of him unzipping his pants. You bit your lip, knowing what was coming next, and you wanted so badly to turn around and see his cock. You stayed put, though, knowing not to act without his permission, and within moments you felt the head of his dick rub itself along your slit.

“Beg me,” he said, letting his dick sit just against your entrance. You squirmed slightly, and he placed his hand on your lower back to hold you still.

“Please, Michael,” you said, hardly aware of the words leaving your mouth. You just wanted him inside you, wanted him to own you. “Please fuck me. I’ll be good from now on, I’ll do whatever you want. Please.”

He rubbed himself against your wetness again, painfully slow, and without warning he slammed himself inside. You gasped, shocked at his massive length, but he did not give you time to adjust before committing to a quick, intense pace. Thrusting inside you ruthlessly, you grasped at the edges of the table to hold yourself steady, a string of expletives leaving you as he fucked you hard and fast.

One hand yanked your head back, hard, by the hair, while the other wrapped around to grip your throat, your hips bucking back to meet his thrusts as you panted desperately, shouting incoherent words as tears filled your eyes and dribbled onto the wooden surface of the table.

“You’re like a bitch in heat,” he said smugly, stopping mid-thrust. “Beg me to cum.”

“Please, Michael,” you said, voice cracking, cheek resting against the table and palms flat on either side of you. You’d never felt so degraded in your life, but you loved it. “Please. Let me cum, I’ll be good, I swear.”

He finished his thrust, filling you up and making you cry out, and it wasn’t long before your walls clenched around him and you came, bursts of white-hot light in front of your eyes. Only seconds later, he had your hips gripped hard in his hands as he hurried to finish, and you could only imagine how beautiful his face might look on the brink of an orgasm.

He let go, grunting with each breath, his warmth flooding up inside you. You laid there, trying to recover as he tucked himself back into his pants, seemingly unbothered by the whole interaction. You, on the other hand, knew you wouldn’t be able to sit for a good week; it was well worth it to you, though, and as you re-dressed yourself, you hardly could bring yourself to mind the cocky way he smirked at you.

He looked as if he was about to speak, and you shot him a playful, yet slightly annoyed glance as you pulled your top back over your head. “Don’t even say anything,” you said, and he laughed.

That night, you dreamt of Michael again, but this time, you liked it.

[iestyn-crowe]

✵ for Valarin!

Send ✵ and my muse will answer the following.  

Their first impression of your muse:

“What a sucker. Honestly! The lad’s practically thanking me for relievin’ ‘im of ‘is wallet! An’ I’m sick of ‘ese bloody Sin’dorei thinkin’ they’re better ‘an me. Least ‘ave the decency ta punch my lights out yerself, yer attitude in’t gonna cut it.”

Iestyn’s first interaction with Valarin practically gave him whiplash. The priest gave him a curt reminder that if he was looking to make a pilgrimage to the Sunwell, he ought to be on the Isle and not in Silvermoon City. The amount of satisfaction that he got from pickpocketing him was swept completely out from under him upon realizing what he stole, however. On his person had been a crudely-drawn picture of a stick figure orc child holding the hand of what had to be that very blood elf. At the top, the words “we miss you valaran” had been scrawled in crayon.

No, no, no, don’t you dare go back and talk to him. Don’t you do it. Don’t— “Excuse me sir, you dropped ‘is!”

Current impression:

“’E’s everything I promised I’d be and more. … What’s my excuse, ‘en?”

Valarin is the gentlest person that Iestyn has ever met. The thief has seen the cruelty of the world and knows full well what it does to those soft of heart and smile. He’s seen the scars that Valarin bears, both physical and emotional, and has the utmost respect for him for choosing kindness over bitterness every single day. He has no idea how the priest managed to sneak his way past his defenses, but he honestly believes that he can trust him with anything.

Are they attracted to your muse?:

“Aye, the lad’s beautiful, ‘ere’s no doubt about ‘at. Honestly, though, it’s ‘is damned laugh, ‘is smile, ‘at melts my bloody heart. ‘E deserves somethin’ better ‘an the world’s e’er gonna give ‘im.”

Admittedly, Iestyn invited him up to his hotel room the first day they met, so jot that down. After realizing such an offer had Valarin extremely flustered and bewildered he adjusted accordingly. He might think he’s cute, but by no means does he intend on making anyone uncomfortable.

Something they find frightening about your muse:

“’Ere’s not a damned thing anyone could say ‘at’d make me fear ‘at man. I think if I swatted a bloody fly ‘e’d make a tiny cast fer it an’ send it on its way.”

Valarin is incredibly disarming, a fact that has him terribly worried. In the short time they’ve known each other, the priest has become privy to some secrets that Iestyn usually spends all his time keeping under wraps. He trusts him, and he has no idea when that happened, but that isn’t the thing that bothers him the most. Somehow, he’s convinced him that he’s a good person. He doesn’t want to stick around long enough for Val to realize the truth.

Something they find adorable about your muse:

“Hah! Everythin’.”

Iestyn is certain that if you look up “adorable” in the dictionary, there’d be a picture of Valarin Sunstorm. He’s seen him carrying a pile of stuffed animals, pretending to be a scary pirate, and dropping everything to help someone in need. All of these things are equally precious to him.

Would my muse sacrifice themselves for yours?:

“… Aye. ‘At I would. ‘Is world needs more people like ‘im ‘an it does people like me.”

As far as he’s concerned, if he sacrificed himself to keep Valarin alive and safe, he’d be fulfilling a promise he made to the best of his ability. That would make his sister happy, wouldn’t it?

Would my muse go on a date with yours?  platonic/romantic:

“E’en if I thought ‘e’d lke ‘at, e’en if I were the datin’ type, ‘e deserves better. Romantic or platonic, it in’t matter. ‘E deserves a better love an’ ‘e deserves a better friend.”

Iestyn believes it would be best for all involved if he stayed out of Valarin’s life. He’s a bit greedy, though, a thief stealing kindness meant for others. There’s a person that the priest thinks he is. If that person were real, maybe they could be friends.

One word my muse would use to describe yours:

“Kind.”

Would my muse slap yours if they could?:

“I’d ne’er lay a hand on the lad, an’ though I in’t the fightin’ type, anyone who tried around me wouldn’t ‘ave one fer very long.”

Would my muse hug/kiss yours?:

“If ‘e e’er needed one or e’er asked, aye. I would.”

@valarin-sunstorm

[vexredain]

😘

Them as a person : “Really wish I did, I’ll tell ye that much. Just look at that bleedin’ glower, that smoulder. Impressive.”

Level of attractiveness : “I don’t usually, ye know, find Elezen particularly attractive. ‘Specially not with th’long arms an’ legs, makes ‘em look like a Yarzon crossed with a real angular ‘Yur, like… But I’d say those words’ve been more’n sorely tested considerin’ ‘ow… Well, ‘sunfair when ye get t’be that big, muscular, an’ rugged lookin’ all at once. Most Elezen men tend t’try t’look all clean an’ soft, an’ Navigator fergive, proper… Which ye couldn’t say at all fer ‘im. This lad looks like ‘e’s drunk a sea’s worth o’ salt an’ wrestles bleedin’ dragons fer fun in whene’er th’off chance arises. Not that dragons’re real. Pfft. I don’t believe I’ve e’er said that I’ve found that an Elezen, ye know, makes ye feel warmer’n a Kobold in a room full o’ diggin’ equipment, but I’d say it fer this one. ‘Ot’s a good word, ye know?”

What annoys them most : “I dunno, th’fact that I think ‘e’s one o’ th’few that’d actually make a look o’ disappointment split ye in two. Sorta piercin’ gaze that ‘e’s got, it’d be bleedin’ devastatin’ if ye e’er managed t’disappoint ‘im, I’m sure. ‘Ells, not e’en my own bleedin’ father could do that. Just goes t’show, someone somewhere could make ye feel shame at somethin’, I’m sure…” 

What they like the most : “Eyepatch. Really pulls that look t’gether, right? Like, ‘e’d prob’ly already look like ‘e could tear yer ‘ead off with two fingers, but th’eyepatch really adds t’th’whole fierce, confident… Did I say fierce already? ‘Cause ‘e’s fierce. Real bleedin’ fierce. An’ th’eyepatch ‘elps. I’m sure it’s a shame that ‘e lost an eye an’ all that, but ye know, if it does things fer ye like that, I’d say it’s worth it. Per’aps I wouldn’t say that t’is face, ‘owe’er.”

What they’d do if they were locked in a closet together for 4 hours : “War stories! Lad’s gotta ‘ave a bleedin’ tome full o’ ‘em, or at least stories o’ scrapes an’ fights. I’d wager it’d be a fun bleedin’ trade, at that. ‘Course, that’d take up all th’time, other’n per’aps tryin’ t’resist, ye know… Swishin’ a finger through that lil’ beard o’ ‘is, an’n attemptin’ t’get away ‘fore ye get bleedin’ murdered. Worth it, I’d say. After all, I’m far too important t’think o’ stealin’ a kiss… Prob’ly.”

Overall opinion : “Lad looks like someone ye’d want on yer side, an’ one that ye’d not last all too long ‘gainst if ‘e weren’t. People like that’re good t’know, ye know? Couldn’t go wrong, I’d say. That, an’ ‘e looks real nice. An’ fierce. But I’m sure I said that already… Fierce.”

Rating : “Tempted t’say ten, but it’s unfair ‘ow good eyepatches look, ye know? So that’d not be fair. Eight or nine… This is too difficult, so I’d say somewhere ‘tween eight an’ ten. ‘Ow mysterious… Suitably, I’d say!”

[ Thanks for the ask! It’s greatly appreciated! Character Rating Meme Open Here! ]

[kingjamesonfawkes]

A trade with the darling @jailbird-junkrat-writes​ 

A filthy junker stalker saves you from certain death and calls on you to pay him back for it.

--

The scrawny Junker had been watching you for sometime, He could be stealthy, when he needed to, and could hide his thin and agile body quickly if your suspicions were raised. He would follow you, that was the easy part; the hard part for him was stopping himself from mumbling under his breath, stifling his tittering laughter that was always at the tip of his tongue threatening to jump out, the hard part was stifling anything that would alert you to his presence. You didn’t even know he existed, but he had seen you and became instantly enamored with you;, love at first sight, he would call it. He wanted you desperately, would do anything for you. He wanted to touch you, taste you, smell you. He wanted to feel his mouth on your neck, wanted to mark you as his. And like a predator stalking his prey, he bid his time in waiting for an opportunity.

You weren’t careful enough, and your trail was easy for him to follow, tracking your movements as you searched for quality scrap across the outback. So it was no surprise that he was there when it happened, except maybe to you.

You were scavenging through a building, Junkrat nearby, hiding around walls, turned over desks, any sort of debris that he could get coverage to get closer to you, to hear you breathe, to smell your scent, distinct and fresh in the stale air of the abandoned building. You were sifting through the contents of a desk, tossing the rubbish on the ground as you decided what was and was not worth your time. Finding small treasures, you stowed them away in your backpack, and slung it back over your shoulder, ready to move on to the next abandoned cubical when you heard the door, that lead from the outside hallway to the office space you were in now, slam open. You snapped your head around to see them enter, four junkers, looking as if they belonged to a gang in the area, and suddenly you realized that you hadn’t been careful when you saw the building, and didn’t stop to check to see whose territory you were in. This was bad, and you knew it.

The largest of the four pointed at you, and two of them quick to jump over desks and fallen chairs to get to you, traversing the area like it was nothing. The large one had a shotgun in hand, and the woman next to him held what could only be described as a sniper rifle in her hand, sure it looked homemade and pieced together, but it was definitely long ranged, and definitely pointed at you. The agile two, jumping over desks towards you, seemed to be holding butterfly knives, spinning them dramatically as they approached.

The next thing you heard was an explosion as a bomb shot past your face and into the junker with the sniper rifle, knocking her back off her feet, and leaving her wounded and bloody, a hole in her chest and her body slumped against the wall. Where had that come from? You were alone in the room and there was no exits other than the one in front of you. Before you could wonder anymore, another shot fired from behind you, hitting one of the smaller junkers, the one coming from your right, knocking him over a desk, he was out of view but you’d imagine his state was much the same as the sniper. You scrambled to reach your gun, everything had happened so fast that you hadn’t thought to arm yourself until now, but the other small junker grabbed you from behind, knife at your throat, ready for word from the boss, you were sure.

The Larger junker fired a shot from his shotgun into the space to your right, which spurred a voice behind you.

“OI!” The voice yelled, and now you turned to see him, he was standing tall and had his frag launcher poised at the ready. He had dirty blonde hair that was streaked with soot and oil, bald in patches from the radiation that ailed everyone in the outback, and also probably burned off in places based on his current position, covered in soot as far as you could see.

He fired two shots at the larger junker, one went over his shoulder and the man laughed, “Missed me, ya drongo,” He said, as the bomb bounced off the wall behind him and hit him in the back of the head, blowing the back of his skull with an explosion and crack of bone. The second bomb hit him square in the chest, tearing him open, his chest a gaping bloody hole. The combination of them took him out, and his body hit the ground with a loud thud.

He turned his attention now to the junker holding a knife to your throat, “Betta’ let’m go,” He warned, cackling at the junker, who you could tell was scared, seeing the man just kill his three companions. “Tha’ ones mine,” He said, his grin sinister and possessive. You didn’t know this man and the face he made when he called you his made your blood run cold.

“Drop tha knife,” He said, “Or yer gonna get a taste of whatcha mates did.”

The junker looked at his fallen friends, tense and dripping with sweat, before pulling back and backing away from you. “‘Ave, ‘Im! He ain’t worth my life, ya bushranger,” He spat at the junker.

Once he was far enough away from you for Junkrat, which you would have preferred a little more distance, he shot a bomb at this junker too, blowing off his leg from the knee down and knocking him to the ground.

Junkrat approached as the man on the ground wailed in pain, clutching the gorey and bloody stump of his leg. “Guess we ‘ave different opinions on tha worth of yer life.”

As he approached the junker on the ground, you saw he had a prosthetic himself, a peg leg, and his gait was uneven and rocking as he walked toward the man. He stomped on the stump of the man’s leg with his heavy boot, and twisted his ankle back and forth, making the man cry out in pain. He aimed the frag launcher at the man’s head, point blank, and shot off one last bomb at his face, blowing his head off his shoulders.

He turned his attention to you, reloading his weapon with bombs from a satchel at his hip, he made eye contact with you, laughing wildly at the situation that had just taken place.

“Suppose I should introduce maself,” He said, offering his hand, the orange metal gleaming in the light filtering in through the cracks in the ceiling. He acted as if you weren’t a bit freaked out by the situation, as if this was a normal introduction between two people. “M’name’s Junkrat!”

But you supposed, you did owe him your life, even if his possessive tone made you question his intentions.

“M’name’s--” you started speaking, taking his metal hand in a handshake, before he interrupted you.

“Nah, no need, luv,” He said, raising his eyebrows and breaking out into the same manic grin he had given the junkers earlier, “I know ‘xactly who ya are.”

His tone made you shudder and you were worried to ask how he knew who you were. Against your better judgement, you ask, as you pulled your hand away, “How do you know who I am, and where did you come from?” You looked around the room now, confirming that there was only the one way in and out.

“I saw ya in the market a coupla weeks ago,” He started, looking away into the distance as if thinking about it, and stroking his chin, “An’ since then, well, ‘been followin’ ya. Ya make it pretty easy, Luv.”

You felt a chill up your spine, how could you not have noticed this man following you, for two weeks no less.

“I better go,” You said, taking a step back from the junker, “Thanks for the help, I really appreciate it, mate.”

“Ah ah, not so fast, boyo,” He said, making his way to block you from the door, “I saved yer life, ain’tcha gonna repay me?”

Your mind was racing through what he could possibly want from you, but you had your worries, knowing that he had been watching you for the last two weeks, and now he was calling you pet names.

And that’s how it had begun.

You were now back in his trailer, which was a mess and barren of most life comforts, even considering you were in the outback. You weren’t sure how he had convinced you, to follow him home, he had worn you down as you tried to leave, following you constantly and nagging on you that you owed him your life, how it was just the way of the world and he could just as easily take that gift away from you.

Feeling pressured by his words, you changed directions and followed him to his house. He tittered happily about all the things he was excited to do with you, sparing you no graphic details, but fearing he would threaten your life again, you complied and followed along, feeling a little bit defeated.

Under normal circumstances, you may have even found him attractive, although a bit excessive in his ways. He had muscles, and his sharp features were unusual, but not unattractive, especially considering you lived in the outback, where most junkers had faces even a mother couldn’t love. But this method of getting your attention, frankly it was terrifying.

He came back into the room he had left you in, which resembled somewhat of a living room, but the majority of it was taken up by a huge work table, which was piled with all manner of scrap and supplies, to build himself new weapons and tools, you imagined. You were sitting in a plastic folding lawn chair, which squeaked when you moved.

“C’mon pet, bed’s ready,” He purred, you could tell he was trying to be seductive, but his tone came off more as a joke than anything. You felt rooted to the chair more than ever, but pulled yourself up, not wanting to know what he would do to you now that he was in familiar ground. The thought of if he would even let you go after this passed through your mind as you followed him to the bedroom, but you tried not to linger on this.

Before you knew it he had you on the bed, he was on top of you, his hands on either side of your head as his mouth as on your neck. He bit you roughly, over and over, sucking your skin and leaving hickies and bite marks wherever his mouth met your skin. He moved from your neck to your shoulder, back to your neck, indecisive of where he wanted to mark you next. You covered your face with your hands, trying not to think about the situation, but a particular bite to the neck made you moan out, and despite yourself his oral work was starting to have an effect on you.

He looked up at you, lifting his bushy eyebrows and giving you a grin, but seeing your face covered he sat up and bit and pushed you arm away from your face with one of his hands.

“Oi, don’t cova up, I wan’ta see that gorgeous face, Luv,” He said, and started biting you again. He had lowered his body to yours now, and you could feel his body heat on yours, and you could feel his growing erection against your thigh. He nibbled on your earlobe, whispering in a rough voice, “Maybe I can getcha to make noises like that again, Pet.”

Leaning on his right elbow, he snaked his hand down your chest and down to your crotch, grabbing your cock roughly with pawing hands, trying to stimulate a response from you. You breathed in a bit, a small noise but enough to get a chuckle out of him and encourage him to go on. He leaned his side against the bed, laying his body close to yours and pulling up your shirt with his prosthetic arm, and leaning his head down to nip and suck at your chest. He caught your nipple and bit down, quite a bit harder than you would have liked, and you gasped, closing your eyes tight, this making him laugh as well.

His hand massaging your cock through your pants was having his intended effect, and he felt you stiffen in his hands, “Oh that’s it, Darl’,” He said, “I knew ya wanted this.”

You stifle a moan as he slid his hand into the waistband of your pants, touching your stiffening dick with his fingertips and teasing you as he left hickies across your chest. He was grinding himself against your thigh, impatient for stimulation.  He had barely started touching you before he pulled his hands out of your pants.

He moved now, standing and undressing hurriedly, and throwing his shorts to the ground. He got back on the bed, placing his knees on either side of your head, leaning over on his left arm, so his dick was poised at your lips, the tip had a welling drip of precum that threatened to drip down to your lips at any second.

“C’mon now, giv’ ‘im a taste,” He said, taking his cock in the metal of his right hand and pressing it to your lips, smearing the precum across them. When you reluctantly opened he flashed a grin down at you as he watched you take the head into your mouth, “Tha’s a good pet,” He trilled in delight.

He let go of his cock, pressing deeper into your mouth with pressure from his hips. The metal hand trailing across your cheek and snaking up into your hair, where he pulled your head up, fucking your mouth slowly to start, the fingers in your hair gripping tightly and pulling.

He got rougher quickly, he was loud, groaning and moaning above you. You strained to look up to his face, you saw him staring intently at your face, watching his cock pump in and out of your mouth, his tongue hanging from his lips and eyes heavily lidded. He pressed in particularly deep and felt you gag on his cock, which elicited a new string of groans from his lips, laughing sporadically between them, hearing you gag on his cock was driving him quickly to his orgasm. You hated to admit it to yourself, and would never say it outloud, but being treated like a toy by this criminal was having a reaction on your body, making your strain against the material of your pants.

Before he made himself cum in your throat, he pulled his cock out and leaned over you, his weight now resting on both hands. His cock was dripping with your saliva and his precum, giving it a shine in the light pouring in through the window to his room.

“Woo, I gotta do that again,” He said to himself more than to you.

He hopped up and climbed off the bed again, his hard cock bouncing with his movements. He moved around to pull your pants off of your body, throwing them to the ground near his own. Seeing your cock spring forth he raised his eyebrows at you with a grin, and grabbed it with his left and, stroking you roughly. He held his own cock in his right hand, stroking it in a similar rhythm. Seeing him look at you, you covered your face again, he made a tutting noise at you, and let go of your cock to slap your thigh.

“Wha’d I say about coverin’ up, Pet,” He said, “Am I gonna hafta tie ya up?”

He lingered on the idea for a second, before you burst out, “No! No!” And moved your hands away from your face.

“Ahh, nex’ time then,” He muttered, looking a little disappointed, but he didn’t want to pull out all the stops on just his first time with a new pet. His hand going back to roughly stroking your cock in his hand for a moment. You stifled a moan, biting your lip, you didn’t want him to know you were enjoying this, you didn’t want to spur him to go any farther, but your face betrayed you, and he let out a chortle.

He let go of your cock, and you tried not to whimper, missing the sensation immediately. He lifted your legs flush against his chest, ankles hitting his shoulders. He wrapped his right arm around them, holding you in place with a firm grip that didn’t let you struggle away from him, and with his left hand positioned his dick at your ass.

Without warning he pushed in, filling you with his whole length, you felt his balls hit your ass as he bottomed out, and you yelped, not ready for his cock, but he didn’t seem to mind that you hadn’t been prepared at all. Feeling the sting of tear at your eyes, you closed them tightly. Your stomach clenched and body tight as he pulled out again, trying to relax and prepare yourself for his next thrust, but finding it hard against the initial pain of his penetration.

As he thrust in again, you found yourself making small noises as he rocked his hips to yours. He was rough and animalistic, not quite like anyone you had ever fucked before. His noises were just as animalistic as his rhythm, and loud. He gripped your legs tightly, his metal hand on your thigh gripping tightly, and you were sure it would leave a bruise.

You were starting to get used to his size, despite his rough tempo and demanding force, and you heard yourself moaning before you could stop it, which spurred him on again.

“Feelin’ nice, Pet?” He groaned, not really looking for an answer, “I’m gonna make ya sing.”

You moaned, louder this time, as he wrapped his hand around your cock, stroking you in time with his thrusts into you. It was getting to be too much for you, and you gripped the dirty sheets of his bed desperately.

“Tha’s it, tha’s it, give in,” He groaned at you, watching your face with intent as he pounded you, his fingers working magic on your cock, his thumb rolling across the head and teasing the tip.

“Gettin--” you stuttered out, your moans slipping out, “close,” your face was flushed, hating yourself for enjoying what he was doing to your body, hating him for doing it.

“Why didn’ ya say so, Pet?” He growled with a chuckle, speeding up his thrusts, slamming against you with more force.

You felt yourself tighten before your orgasm, your back arching and toes curling, before your cum spilled from your cock onto your chest and stomach, dripping down to his hand. He rode your orgasm hard, speaking dirty to you, but you couldn’t focus on the words he said, focusing on the pleasure hitting you in waves.

As your head cleared from your orgasm, you heard him make a loud animalistic noise as he slammed deep into you and hunched over he bit the calves of your leg, and you felt him release his cum inside you, each spurt making his continued thrusts more fluid and sloppy.

He rode out his orgasm inside you, groaning out a mantra of “Mine, Mine, Mine,” as he did.

When he was finished he pulled out, and released your legs, you let them fall where gravity took them, not quite having the energy to fight it. You lay in the bed as he got up, and threw you a dirty looking rag to clean up with. You touched your face, feeling disgusted with yourself and realizing that you had been crying, feeling the wet on your cheeks and eyes.

“Nex’ time’ll be even betta, My Pet,” Junkrat said, looking proud of himself as he pulled his grimy shorts back up and fastened them closed, “Don’ worry, yer mine now and I’ll take care of ya.”

[sharkbeneaththelotus]

Writer meme: based on your Tentacle Monsters are Usually Bigger story and the Octo-Tony series, I'd love to see you take on a naga type story. (Or a sequel of Tentacle Monster, I adore that one.) I'd also love to see your take on a steampunk/cyborg story - Tony's bots are always his babies, no matter what. (Does Octo-Tony have baby bots? Tentacle Monster Tony?)

Im gonna chose….tentacle monster tony! (from the av: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6910981 )

The robots start out as a way to interact with the world; Steve’s, their apartment is built for people in the 170-220cm range, and Tony is only 30-60cm tall, depending on how many tentacles are used up in carrying something. So. Mobility devices. 

Ramps are great, ladders and nets are better, but Tony is an engineer, and Dummy almost instantly gets out of hand. The wheely little bot can stretch upwards to 200cm, and look Steve in the eye, which it does whenever Tony needs to berate and/or smack Steve in the earhole. But, the AI, ooooh the AI isn’t fond of smacking, and makes the saddest beeps about it, so Tony stops. Steve makes sad noises about that, so Tony clambers onto his shoulder and winds around his neck instead, which seems to have the same settling effect on post-recklesness jitters at the thumping. 

Steve, he is well aware, needs almost as much physical contact as a spriggling.  This is, of course, ideal. Tony also requires large amounts. 

Dummy inevetably follows them around when they are in this arrangement, booping mournfully that he cannot be chief Tony-transport. 

Quickly, Dummy’s attachment rack grows into a range of tools, graspers and cameras. Tony decides that if he’s going to be getting his claws into everything (which after a week appears inevetable and proves endearing) he’d better at least have the proper equipment. 

There is only one moment of …unfortunateness; 

Natasha, being Steve’s most frequent visitor and Tony’s partner in weird-vegetable-smoothie testing is the one to point it out.

“Okay, but I need to show you something before you take that into shield.” 

She brings up a video of non-english origin, and Steve instantly goes pink and his skin heats right up. The hand-drawn mechano-cephalopoid hybrid appears to be placing something large inside the body of a humanoid reptile female. 

She doesn’t seem to be objecting in any way. 

Tony notes the resemblance between the mechano-cephalopoid and Dummy immediately. Ah. 

“People will be reminded of reproductive… or not, acts when they look at Dummy?” He gestures incredulously. His word for fucking feels far too lewd to gesture in the presence of the image, good grief. 

“Well, there are people who want to fuck robots too, but the tentacle thing is more widespread. Its more…visulisable.” 

Tony bristles and flashes his white stripes to black for emphasis. “Well, sharp angles and pincers it is,” he gestures. Dummy, who has been leaning in bafflement over the back of the couch with his ‘hands’ attachment in place, trundles off in uncomprehending contentment to switch attachments to his claw and camera. He offers this up for Tony’s assessment, and Tony pats the cold metal reassuringly. “Good boy.” 

“I am deeply, deeply sorry that my species are reprobates,” Steve mumbles from inside the shelter of his hands. Tony smacks his wrist with an outstretched arm, and then tells him it’s not his fault when an eye reappears to listen. 

“It’s only out and about. I wouldn’t want to accidentally distract the SHIELD engineers with even more ribald thoughts than your species is already prone to. It’s not a fault, exactly; your population is very robust.”  

Natasha seems amused by this, and Steve utterly mortified; she and Tony share an amused glance. 

“While we’re on the topic; there are people who find you attractive, too, Tony. You’re practically a genre.” 

He coils in embarasment. “But they don’t like me for my personality, do they.”  

“Not in so many words.” She pats his upper surface with a slow, soothing stroke. 

[letskimmyyuanfan-blog]

Will LED push out projection?

https://www.ledscreenparts.com/

Exhibitors are dabbling in a host of new technologies and applications, from direct-view LED displays to VR gaming. Tim Kridel explores why — and how – they could create opportunities for AV firms to expand into the cinema market.

On March 22, Zurich’s Arena Cinemas will become the first European theatre — and one of just a handful in the world — with a direct-view LED screen.

It’s an ironic milestone: LED technology enables the big yet affordable TVs that have cut into theatre admissions, which declined 6% over the course of 2017, according to the National Association of Theater Owners. But now LED technology could give exhibitors another tool for making and saving money.

Arena uses Samsung Electronics’ Cinema LED Screen, which is nearly 10.3 meters wide, supports 4K and has a peak brightness level of 146 foot-lamberts (fL). The world’s first Cinema LED installation was in July 2017 at Lotte Cinema World Tower in Seoul. Sony is among the other vendors developing direct-view LED displays for cinema applications.

“It is possible that our future complexes will be Cinema LED-only installations,” says Edi Stöckli, Arena Cinemas’ owner. “We will test our installation and see what other benefits we get. For the moment the price is very high, as all new technologies are at the beginning.”

“It is possible that our future complexes will be Cinema LED-only installations.”

Deploying a direct-view LED display is a lot different than replacing one projection technology with another projection technology.

For starters, LED doesn’t require a projection booth. That space could be used to generate additional revenue, such as premium seating.

Arena Cinemas converted its booth into a private lounge.

“Cinema LED is the future of the cinemas,” Stöckli says. “The digital projector was a step, but it is still a projector with all its technical limits. This technology needs much less power, less cooling and lives much longer than a projector.”

5 tons and 10 times the cost

Depending on the theatre, an LED screen might incur higher installation costs compared to projection.

“The LED screens weigh 5 tons, so you have to build a cinema a hell of a lot stronger,” says David Hancock, IHS Markit director of research and analysis for cinema and home entertainment.

“The cost of a direct-view LED screen is estimated to be up to 10 times the cost of a typical perforated screen,” says Mark Mayfield, QSC director of global cinema marketing. “But there is no projector, so that could be a wash.”

LED is a new technology not only for exhibitors, but also for the specialised integrators serving the cinema vertical? So it’s possible that LED could create an opportunity for traditional AV firms to expand into cinema.

“It’s far more common in the commercial AV world in applications like outdoor digital signage,” Mayfield says.  “On the other hand, commercial AV integrators generally have little experience in the nuances of the cinema industry. So there is likely to be some cross pollination, potentially leading to another type of technology convergence.”

LED also could enable cinemas in new locations or breathe life into struggling ones.

“Direct-view screens can create a much brighter image with significantly higher contrast ratios,” Mayfield says. “They could potentially revitalise drive-in or outdoor cinema, and even make it possible to show movies in daylight or indoors in full lighting.”

Like laser projection, LED displays also could spur more 3D ticket sales by alleviating the brightness problem that meant an underwhelming experience with older technologies. But audio has to be addressed to avoid becoming the new weak link for both 3D and 2D.

“A solid direct-view screen removes the option of placing sound sources where they create the most realistic image-to-picture localisation: placing speakers behind the screen is no longer feasible,” Mayfield says. “So we have to develop new methods and potentially, new technologies to create that sense of accurate localisation.”

“A solid direct-view screen removes the option of placing sound sources where they create the most realistic image-to-picture localization: placing speakers behind the screen is no longer feasible.”

All of these factors have some industry watchers speculating that LED will fundamentally change the types of technologies, companies and venue designs in the cinema space. “LED has the potential to be a genuine disruptor of the business,” Hancock says.

Out with the old? Not so fast Direct-view displays come on the heels of two other formats and technologies generating buzz: high frame rate (HFR) and 4K.

“HFR has not appeared to go over well with general audiences,” says Dan Cofer, Alamo Drafthouse Cinema technical director.  “I doubt we will see a huge push for that in the future. Also, there are not many releases in 4K, and it’s unclear if there is demand for it beyond the cinephile audience. We are currently looking at laser projection and direct display (such as the Sony C-LED) though mainly for premium large-format (PLF) screens at this point, as it is cost-prohibitive to retrofit existing installations.”

Meanwhile, some older formats are holding their ground.

“There has been a resurgence of interest in older formats such as 35 mm and 70 mm, and we are actively installing equipment for those formats in our theatres,” says Kimberly Sandel, manager for private and community events for Alamo Drafthouse Cinema’s Austin, Texas, market.  “Seventy millimetre was once thought to be a dying art, but now more and more blockbuster titles are being released with 70 mm prints.” Virtual reality (VR) is another question mark. So far, it’s been a niche play.

“You’re not getting VR in the cinema auditorium,” Hancock says. “It’s more of a side thing: maybe a VR pod with 10 units in the foyer. It’s designed to complement the cinema experience, [such as] with games, trailers and stuff like that. It’s not challenging the cinema.”

For instance, VR game systems in the lobby could promote films in the hope of getting players to buy a ticket.

“This can be a good tool to keep visitors in the lobby longer and generate more concessions sales,” says Till Cussmann, CinemaNext vice president.

Like many exhibitors, Alamo Drafthouse is waiting to see if and how filmmakers embrace VR.

“We have done lobby installs for VR demos during our film festival Fantastic Fest,” Sandell says. “VR is definitely growing as a medium for filmmakers, so I expect we will see more demand for it in the future.”

But other exhibitors question whether VR will ever have a place in the auditorium.

“VR is a technology for individual use,” Stöckli says. “We sell collectivity in our theatres: the togetherness of movie-goers, sharing the same emotion at the same time.” Multi-player gaming is a form of togetherness.

“Gaming is indeed a growing market for cinemas,” Cussmann says. “Organising gaming sessions or tournaments in a cinema auditorium is technically easy to do, but it needs quite a lot of marketing and organisational skills and resources that not all exhibitors have in-house. This is why third-party event agencies are getting quite often involved in those sessions.”

Meetings at the movies For years, some exhibitors rented out their auditoriums for non-film events, such as all-hands business meetings. Flat or declining ticket sales have increased interest in rentals.

“The LED screens weigh 5 tons, so you have to build a cinema a hell of a lot stronger.”

“It’s clearly a growing market,” Cussmann says. “With digital projection  and  sound  equipment, you can easily show any kind of content, from live events to recorded content: opera, ballet, sports, expos, red carpet, teleseries, etc.”

The opportunity varies based on several factors, starting with the theatre’s location. “There are relatively few that can do it: city-centre cinemas [in] big cities, business centres,” Hancock says.

Exhibitors also are competing with specialised theatres such as those in museums and other cultural attractions.  Those “institutional theatres,” as they’re sometimes called, have cachet that helps attract event organisers and attendees.

“There’s no cachet with going to an event at the mall [multiplex],” says Derek Threinen, vice president of film distribution and business development at Giant Screen Films / D3D Cinema, which specialises in the institutional market.

Sales staff is another competitive factor.

“The institutional theatres are the ones that perfected that game 20 years ago,” Threinen says. “They have a distinct advantage over the multiplex theatres with regard to having dedicated sales staff. They’re already selling these venues.”

But as the cinema rental market matured, businesses have launched to help exhibitors go after non-film opportunities.

“Companies like Fathom Events have a huge offer for alternative content and help also to market it to the right audience,” Cussmann says. “The main challenge today is to connect the right audience to the right content without having the exhibitor bearing too much risk that the auditoriums are empty and that he loses revenue compared to regular movie screenings.

So the evolution from classical cinemas towards visual entertainment centre has started and will continue to change the landscape.

“Gaming sessions, business conferences and other events are part of this change, and every decent cinema chain has today a corporate sales or event department that markets those new activities. This is not a temporary trend but will be part of the future business of a movie theatre.”

Event organisers also look at whether a theatre can support a variety of AV inputs, such as wireless mics, laptops and Skype feeds.

“The majority of current digital projector setups these days come equipped to handle most outputs,” Sandel says. “We just know when building venues to include front-of-house connections. Having state-of-the-art projection and sound equipment is really the most important part when marketing a venue even for non-film events.

“We are currently looking at laser projection and direct display though mainly for premium large-format screens at this point, as it is cost-prohibitive to retrofit existing installations.”

“Another nice addition we like to include, but cannot always accommodate, is power outlets near the seats. This is incredibly useful for day-long conferences where attendees may need to charge various devices.” Direct-view LED displays also could help cinemas go after the non-film market.

“With this new technology, auditoriums can be screening content with full ambient light on without any compromise on quality,” Cussmann says.

Shaking up the market For years many institutional theatres have offered 4D technologies, such as seats that move and bursts of scents. Now cinemas are increasingly adding 4D to spur ticket sales.

“We’re trying to get people back into the habit of going to the theatres again,” says CEO Byung-Hwan Choi, CEO of CJ 4DPLEX, whose 4DX systems are in over 400 theatres in 50 countries. “We see enhanced cinema experiences as the first big step in achieving that: to create an atmosphere that can only be available in theatres. Not to just sit back and watch a movie, but to really experience it, to be immersed in it.”

For example, CJ 4DPLEX’s ScreenX platform gives audiences a 270 degree view.

“Think about seeing a film like ‘Pirates of the Caribbean’ where you can experience scenes as if you’re surrounded by the waves and the sea,” Choi says. “It’s really something to experience, and there’s nothing like this out there on the market. We like to try and keep ahead of the curve.”

One way is by adapting technologies from other verticals, such as theme parks. If that strategy is successful, it’s another potential way for AV firms in those verticals to expand into the cinema market.

“We have developed our own 4DX VR technology that’s currently featured in theme parks and arcades around the world,” Choi says.

“The VR world is an interesting, growing industry which with we want to keep up. We’re always on the lookout for interesting collaboration projects, specifically in the gaming and alternative content field.”

More details please contact sales@ledscreenparts.com Or contact us on whatapp :+8615080604730

[adambstingus]

Inside The Handmaiden: A Lesbian Erotic Thriller and the Sexiest Film of the Year

Acclaimed filmmaker Park Chan-wook (‘Oldboy’) opens up about his upcoming film over beers with Jen Yamato in Austin, Texas. “>

Halfway through his first trip to Texas, Korean auteur Park Chan-wook found himself on a tour of a picturesque religious compound notorious for the sex crimes of a cult-like spiritual leader. Five years ago, its once-venerated guru Prakashanand Saraswati fled the country, escaping a trial that saw him sentencedin absentiato over two centuries in prison. On a hot Texas afternoon in September, the director ofOldboystrolled the grounds with his Leica taking in the palatial white granite architecture.

Park was taken by the sights and the lurid true tale, soaking in the experience as he seems to all his travels. The director and avid photographer had come to Austin to screen his Cannes hitThe Handmaidenat Fantastic Fest following its Toronto premiere. Hed tasted Texas BBQ. Hed shopped for trinkets along South Congress Ave. When we met to discuss his period lesbian love-thriller over fine Texan beers this week, he was still marveling at the beauty and hidden perversity forever tied to the Barsana Dham.

It reminded me a little of Uncle Kouzuki inThe Handmaiden, he joked of one of the many deliciously complex characters in his new film, speaking through his traveling companion and translator, Wonjo Jeong. Im a photographer. I thought going to a place like this Id be able to capture some absurd images on my camera. The power that religion has over people, how it draws people in, is always amazing.

Park, arguably Koreas most famed and celebrated filmmaker, made his directorial debut in 1992 and scored his first huge hit in 2000 with the record-breakingJ.S.A.: Joint Security Area, a military thriller about a mysterious murder between soldiers from North and South Korea. In 2003 he released his intoxicatingly elegiac revenge thrillerOldboyand became forever synonymous with its brand of hyperviolent, perverse brutality.

But there are stratums to Parks films, even as they tend toward the extremes of genre, from the two other films that round out hisVengeance Trilogyto his vampire taleThirstto 2013sStoker, the gothic potboiler that marked his English-language Hollywood debut. Consider: When he describes to me the walrus carved from walrus tusk hed just bought at one of Austins eclectic thrift stores, the conversation winds its way to a documentary hed enjoyed, also on the subject of discovering extraordinary objects in the most unexpected places.

It was a documentary calledFinding Vivian Maier, Park recalled. She worked as a nanny to children and at one estate sale one young man bought a lot of her films, and thats how this photographer Vivian Maier came to light. It provided lots of inspiration forCarol, starring Rooney Mara.

Seated at a long wooden table in the corner of a bustling Austin brewery armed with sampler flights of local craft beers, we toasted with a Bavarian-style lager dubbed the Hell Yes, and Park admitted that he prefers Texas BBQ to Korean BBQ. I just dont like marinated meat, he smiled. Please know this: Not all Koreans are fans ofbulgogi. He is, however, something of a beer connoisseur, although homegrown suds have a ways to go. Im really into the Belgian beers, Belgian ales. Korean beer is notorious for being the worst beer in the entire world, he lamented. But recently, a savior has risen in Korea! One of the big beer breweries has started to brew ales. Its very good.

Back home with friends when bar-hopping turns to karaokepractically a national pastimethats my cue to go home.

I envy those people who can play like that, he mused. But I wasnt born that way, unfortunately. Ive overcome a lot of my shyness over the years. Now I can do interviews and go onstage to introduce my films. Its always a difficult thing to do but the work has transformed me. Still, when I walk down the street and see myself on one of those big LED screens on the side of the building, I cringe.

Parks films, however, are quite the opposite: Bold, ballsy, stylish, and often intensely brutal, theyve come to represent the pinnacle of Koreas art house extreme. His is a signature thats difficult to replicate. But despite not yet having seen Spike Lees American remake of Oldboyitself an adaptation of a Japanese mangahes all for the reinterpretation of art. If he had to remake one of Lees films, Park mulled, it would be Jungle Fever.

InThe Handmaiden, Octobers sweeping and engrossing thriller set during Japanese colonial rule in Korea and adapted loosely from Sarah Waters England-set novelFingersmith, director Parks stamp is as evident as ever. Newcomer Kim Tae-ri stars as Sook-hee, a young Korean woman whos sent to work as the new handmaiden to Japanese noblewoman Lady Hideko (Kim Min-hee), who lives in quiet obedience to a Korean-born uncle whos obsessed with Japanese and Western culture. The twistat least, thefirsttwistis that Sook-hees really there to help swindle Hideko out of her fortune and take her place. The rest of The Handmaidens sublime treasures are best unspoiled save for the fact that the two women fall headlong in lovemaking for some steamy lesbian sex scenes that seized critics attention out of Cannes, as well as Parks most romantic film to date.

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Park had wanted for a long time to portray a homosexual character onscreen, particularly in a Korean society that rarely sees such stories told. I knew I wanted to deal with the subject someday, he said. What kind of homosexual film? The kind where the protagonist, who is homosexual, is not afraid of his or her sexualityand is not suffering under the critical eye of a conservative society. I wanted to make a film free of all that.

He sips another sampler glass, a crisp pilsner a little too dry for his tastes. In this film, for the characters who have fallen in love with each other, its just a matter of course. Theres no question about it. The issue they have to overcome is entirely something else, in that one is supposed to be deceiving the other:Am I allowed to love the person Im tricking?There are other issues besides being the same sex.

In addition to depicting the magnetic attraction between its two female protagonists in tender and exquisite detail, The Handmaiden features some of the most frankly sensual lesbian lovemaking scenes sinceBlue is the Warmest Color. Like that films same-sex sex scenes, the film risks incurring criticisms of a leering male gaze, but they also unfold with a keen sense of humor that makes the steamy symmetry of his actresses nude gymnastics less lascivious and more lovingly real.

The humor is the crux, he emphasized. These sex scenes arent all about the panting, the sweating, the going through the motions. They constantly talk to each other, and they look at each others face, and they make jokes.

Sook-hee and Hideko are also two complex characters whose inner workings reflect bigger themes asThe Handmaidenunspools one layer after another. In transplanting the original novels setting to colonial Korea, Park seeded The Handmaidenwith pointed cultural criticisms loaded with meaning for the Korea of today as much as that of yesterday.

Films in Korea thus far which have depicted the colonial period were all about independent movements or resistance fighters, he said. But this film is all about falling in love with a Japanese woman. The villain is actually of Korean ethnicity. His mind, his inner workings, shows that of a typical Japanese sympathizercolonial lackeyat the time. We have enough stories and films about those who fought against Japanese imperialists. Why dont we show and talk about the Koreans who worshipped the Japanese?

He elaborated: My point is that this continues to this day. The only thing thats different is they no longer worship the Japanese imperialistsin their place, they worship the Americans. And rather than idolize American values, they have internalized American values.

In recent years, Park lent his voice to public petitions protesting his governments arms sales to Israel and the censorship of the Busan Film Festival (Compared to the people who put everything they have on the line for these fights and causes, its nothing, he said.) But its no coincidence that Park says what worries him the most about the world is the unequal distribution of wealth both at home in Korea and across the world at large.

Im not saying that everything about America is wrong, he said. Neither am I saying that everything from overseas is wrong. Im saying that everything needs to be in balance between whats our own and whats foreign, among those who have the money, the power, and the informationthe ruling class. One of the reasons some Americans say that this election is pointless is that whoever wins the election, well end up with the same world where capitalism is king.

Park also saw in The Handmaiden the chance to actively battle an industry-wide problem hed started to notice: The underrepresentation of female characters in film. Certainly my interest in young women has gone up because Im the father of a daughter, he said, raising a hoppy IPA to his lips, and it helped me to realize how in cinema there arent many films that deal with the desires of a young woman in an honest way. Films dont tend to portray women as the main subject. It helped me become aware of this problem.

He started showing his films to his daughter, whos now studying art at university, when she was a childwell, all of them except forOldboy, for obvious reasons. Because there was a father-daughter relationship I couldnt bring myself to show it to her, he said. She saw it when she went to university. Fortunately she likes my films. Both women in his life nameThe Handmaidenas their favorite movie of his.

I have heard there is a debate at this film festival where a verbal debate is followed by a boxing match, he smiled, referring to the annual Fantastic Fest spectacle known as the Fantastic Debates, where filmmakers and critics face off over vital cinematic topics and determine the ultimate winner by pounding it out in the ring. I wouldlovefor someone to step up and put this to the test: Prove that all of Park Chan-wooks films are romantic films.

Its ironic to Park, and perhaps a bit frustrating, that he might be known as an artist most concerned with stories of violent revengealthough his films, includingThe Handmaiden, have that, too. Deep down, hes got a romantic streak. It peeks out when he describes how, years ago, he met his wife and saw Vertigo for the first time, and thus fell in love twice on the same day. Creatively I ask her for her opinions and I take a lot of her suggestions, he said. And shes my first love.

Why, then, does he think his films tend toward boundary-pushing extremes of human behavior, like incest, betrayal, mutilation, and extreme violence? Because Ive lived such a boring and mundane life, he shrugged. Every storyteller should never confine themselves to the very small limits of their own experience. Rather, they should be able to put themselves in the position of every different kind of human beingand sometimes non-human beings, as well.

If Park has the ability to put himself in the paws of animals for the sake of art, does he feel bad even years later, for the poor octopi that gave their lives to be eaten by Choi Min-sik inOldboy, in whats still one of the most indelible scenes hes ever filmed?

He considered it, sipping a hoppy red named the Big Mama, a dish of bacon-wrapped quail between us. Not really, he said. In Korea, live octopus is served sliced into pieces, still wriggling on the plate. What difference does it make if its eaten chopped or whole?

Some cephalopod enthusiasts argue that octopi, with their uncanny abilities to liberate themselves from tanks and multitask, are creatures of consciousness who maybe even have souls. I explained how its a thought that haunts me every time I rewatch that scene in Oldboy, the tentacles writhing in Oh Dae-sus mouth as he renders its owner apartarguably that films most sensual and sensory moment, a visceral collision of art, life, and real violence.

Director Park gave it another moments thought. Im not sure whether the existence of a soul equates to your level of intellectual ability. Do we say that snappers dont have souls, but octopi do? If thats the case, what about cows and pigs? he countered, a twinkle in his eye. Youve seenBabe, right?

from All Of Beer http://allofbeer.com/2017/06/25/inside-the-handmaiden-a-lesbian-erotic-thriller-and-the-sexiest-film-of-the-year/ from All of Beer https://allofbeercom.tumblr.com/post/162228109327

[samanthasroberts]

Inside The Handmaiden: A Lesbian Erotic Thriller and the Sexiest Film of the Year

Acclaimed filmmaker Park Chan-wook (‘Oldboy’) opens up about his upcoming film over beers with Jen Yamato in Austin, Texas. “>

Halfway through his first trip to Texas, Korean auteur Park Chan-wook found himself on a tour of a picturesque religious compound notorious for the sex crimes of a cult-like spiritual leader. Five years ago, its once-venerated guru Prakashanand Saraswati fled the country, escaping a trial that saw him sentencedin absentiato over two centuries in prison. On a hot Texas afternoon in September, the director ofOldboystrolled the grounds with his Leica taking in the palatial white granite architecture.

Park was taken by the sights and the lurid true tale, soaking in the experience as he seems to all his travels. The director and avid photographer had come to Austin to screen his Cannes hitThe Handmaidenat Fantastic Fest following its Toronto premiere. Hed tasted Texas BBQ. Hed shopped for trinkets along South Congress Ave. When we met to discuss his period lesbian love-thriller over fine Texan beers this week, he was still marveling at the beauty and hidden perversity forever tied to the Barsana Dham.

It reminded me a little of Uncle Kouzuki inThe Handmaiden, he joked of one of the many deliciously complex characters in his new film, speaking through his traveling companion and translator, Wonjo Jeong. Im a photographer. I thought going to a place like this Id be able to capture some absurd images on my camera. The power that religion has over people, how it draws people in, is always amazing.

Park, arguably Koreas most famed and celebrated filmmaker, made his directorial debut in 1992 and scored his first huge hit in 2000 with the record-breakingJ.S.A.: Joint Security Area, a military thriller about a mysterious murder between soldiers from North and South Korea. In 2003 he released his intoxicatingly elegiac revenge thrillerOldboyand became forever synonymous with its brand of hyperviolent, perverse brutality.

But there are stratums to Parks films, even as they tend toward the extremes of genre, from the two other films that round out hisVengeance Trilogyto his vampire taleThirstto 2013sStoker, the gothic potboiler that marked his English-language Hollywood debut. Consider: When he describes to me the walrus carved from walrus tusk hed just bought at one of Austins eclectic thrift stores, the conversation winds its way to a documentary hed enjoyed, also on the subject of discovering extraordinary objects in the most unexpected places.

It was a documentary calledFinding Vivian Maier, Park recalled. She worked as a nanny to children and at one estate sale one young man bought a lot of her films, and thats how this photographer Vivian Maier came to light. It provided lots of inspiration forCarol, starring Rooney Mara.

Seated at a long wooden table in the corner of a bustling Austin brewery armed with sampler flights of local craft beers, we toasted with a Bavarian-style lager dubbed the Hell Yes, and Park admitted that he prefers Texas BBQ to Korean BBQ. I just dont like marinated meat, he smiled. Please know this: Not all Koreans are fans ofbulgogi. He is, however, something of a beer connoisseur, although homegrown suds have a ways to go. Im really into the Belgian beers, Belgian ales. Korean beer is notorious for being the worst beer in the entire world, he lamented. But recently, a savior has risen in Korea! One of the big beer breweries has started to brew ales. Its very good.

Back home with friends when bar-hopping turns to karaokepractically a national pastimethats my cue to go home.

I envy those people who can play like that, he mused. But I wasnt born that way, unfortunately. Ive overcome a lot of my shyness over the years. Now I can do interviews and go onstage to introduce my films. Its always a difficult thing to do but the work has transformed me. Still, when I walk down the street and see myself on one of those big LED screens on the side of the building, I cringe.

Parks films, however, are quite the opposite: Bold, ballsy, stylish, and often intensely brutal, theyve come to represent the pinnacle of Koreas art house extreme. His is a signature thats difficult to replicate. But despite not yet having seen Spike Lees American remake of Oldboyitself an adaptation of a Japanese mangahes all for the reinterpretation of art. If he had to remake one of Lees films, Park mulled, it would be Jungle Fever.

InThe Handmaiden, Octobers sweeping and engrossing thriller set during Japanese colonial rule in Korea and adapted loosely from Sarah Waters England-set novelFingersmith, director Parks stamp is as evident as ever. Newcomer Kim Tae-ri stars as Sook-hee, a young Korean woman whos sent to work as the new handmaiden to Japanese noblewoman Lady Hideko (Kim Min-hee), who lives in quiet obedience to a Korean-born uncle whos obsessed with Japanese and Western culture. The twistat least, thefirsttwistis that Sook-hees really there to help swindle Hideko out of her fortune and take her place. The rest of The Handmaidens sublime treasures are best unspoiled save for the fact that the two women fall headlong in lovemaking for some steamy lesbian sex scenes that seized critics attention out of Cannes, as well as Parks most romantic film to date.

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Park had wanted for a long time to portray a homosexual character onscreen, particularly in a Korean society that rarely sees such stories told. I knew I wanted to deal with the subject someday, he said. What kind of homosexual film? The kind where the protagonist, who is homosexual, is not afraid of his or her sexualityand is not suffering under the critical eye of a conservative society. I wanted to make a film free of all that.

He sips another sampler glass, a crisp pilsner a little too dry for his tastes. In this film, for the characters who have fallen in love with each other, its just a matter of course. Theres no question about it. The issue they have to overcome is entirely something else, in that one is supposed to be deceiving the other:Am I allowed to love the person Im tricking?There are other issues besides being the same sex.

In addition to depicting the magnetic attraction between its two female protagonists in tender and exquisite detail, The Handmaiden features some of the most frankly sensual lesbian lovemaking scenes sinceBlue is the Warmest Color. Like that films same-sex sex scenes, the film risks incurring criticisms of a leering male gaze, but they also unfold with a keen sense of humor that makes the steamy symmetry of his actresses nude gymnastics less lascivious and more lovingly real.

The humor is the crux, he emphasized. These sex scenes arent all about the panting, the sweating, the going through the motions. They constantly talk to each other, and they look at each others face, and they make jokes.

Sook-hee and Hideko are also two complex characters whose inner workings reflect bigger themes asThe Handmaidenunspools one layer after another. In transplanting the original novels setting to colonial Korea, Park seeded The Handmaidenwith pointed cultural criticisms loaded with meaning for the Korea of today as much as that of yesterday.

Films in Korea thus far which have depicted the colonial period were all about independent movements or resistance fighters, he said. But this film is all about falling in love with a Japanese woman. The villain is actually of Korean ethnicity. His mind, his inner workings, shows that of a typical Japanese sympathizercolonial lackeyat the time. We have enough stories and films about those who fought against Japanese imperialists. Why dont we show and talk about the Koreans who worshipped the Japanese?

He elaborated: My point is that this continues to this day. The only thing thats different is they no longer worship the Japanese imperialistsin their place, they worship the Americans. And rather than idolize American values, they have internalized American values.

In recent years, Park lent his voice to public petitions protesting his governments arms sales to Israel and the censorship of the Busan Film Festival (Compared to the people who put everything they have on the line for these fights and causes, its nothing, he said.) But its no coincidence that Park says what worries him the most about the world is the unequal distribution of wealth both at home in Korea and across the world at large.

Im not saying that everything about America is wrong, he said. Neither am I saying that everything from overseas is wrong. Im saying that everything needs to be in balance between whats our own and whats foreign, among those who have the money, the power, and the informationthe ruling class. One of the reasons some Americans say that this election is pointless is that whoever wins the election, well end up with the same world where capitalism is king.

Park also saw in The Handmaiden the chance to actively battle an industry-wide problem hed started to notice: The underrepresentation of female characters in film. Certainly my interest in young women has gone up because Im the father of a daughter, he said, raising a hoppy IPA to his lips, and it helped me to realize how in cinema there arent many films that deal with the desires of a young woman in an honest way. Films dont tend to portray women as the main subject. It helped me become aware of this problem.

He started showing his films to his daughter, whos now studying art at university, when she was a childwell, all of them except forOldboy, for obvious reasons. Because there was a father-daughter relationship I couldnt bring myself to show it to her, he said. She saw it when she went to university. Fortunately she likes my films. Both women in his life nameThe Handmaidenas their favorite movie of his.

I have heard there is a debate at this film festival where a verbal debate is followed by a boxing match, he smiled, referring to the annual Fantastic Fest spectacle known as the Fantastic Debates, where filmmakers and critics face off over vital cinematic topics and determine the ultimate winner by pounding it out in the ring. I wouldlovefor someone to step up and put this to the test: Prove that all of Park Chan-wooks films are romantic films.

Its ironic to Park, and perhaps a bit frustrating, that he might be known as an artist most concerned with stories of violent revengealthough his films, includingThe Handmaiden, have that, too. Deep down, hes got a romantic streak. It peeks out when he describes how, years ago, he met his wife and saw Vertigo for the first time, and thus fell in love twice on the same day. Creatively I ask her for her opinions and I take a lot of her suggestions, he said. And shes my first love.

Why, then, does he think his films tend toward boundary-pushing extremes of human behavior, like incest, betrayal, mutilation, and extreme violence? Because Ive lived such a boring and mundane life, he shrugged. Every storyteller should never confine themselves to the very small limits of their own experience. Rather, they should be able to put themselves in the position of every different kind of human beingand sometimes non-human beings, as well.

If Park has the ability to put himself in the paws of animals for the sake of art, does he feel bad even years later, for the poor octopi that gave their lives to be eaten by Choi Min-sik inOldboy, in whats still one of the most indelible scenes hes ever filmed?

He considered it, sipping a hoppy red named the Big Mama, a dish of bacon-wrapped quail between us. Not really, he said. In Korea, live octopus is served sliced into pieces, still wriggling on the plate. What difference does it make if its eaten chopped or whole?

Some cephalopod enthusiasts argue that octopi, with their uncanny abilities to liberate themselves from tanks and multitask, are creatures of consciousness who maybe even have souls. I explained how its a thought that haunts me every time I rewatch that scene in Oldboy, the tentacles writhing in Oh Dae-sus mouth as he renders its owner apartarguably that films most sensual and sensory moment, a visceral collision of art, life, and real violence.

Director Park gave it another moments thought. Im not sure whether the existence of a soul equates to your level of intellectual ability. Do we say that snappers dont have souls, but octopi do? If thats the case, what about cows and pigs? he countered, a twinkle in his eye. Youve seenBabe, right?

Source: http://allofbeer.com/2017/06/25/inside-the-handmaiden-a-lesbian-erotic-thriller-and-the-sexiest-film-of-the-year/

from All of Beer https://allofbeer.wordpress.com/2017/06/25/inside-the-handmaiden-a-lesbian-erotic-thriller-and-the-sexiest-film-of-the-year/

[allofbeercom]

Inside The Handmaiden: A Lesbian Erotic Thriller and the Sexiest Film of the Year

Acclaimed filmmaker Park Chan-wook (‘Oldboy’) opens up about his upcoming film over beers with Jen Yamato in Austin, Texas. “>

Halfway through his first trip to Texas, Korean auteur Park Chan-wook found himself on a tour of a picturesque religious compound notorious for the sex crimes of a cult-like spiritual leader. Five years ago, its once-venerated guru Prakashanand Saraswati fled the country, escaping a trial that saw him sentencedin absentiato over two centuries in prison. On a hot Texas afternoon in September, the director ofOldboystrolled the grounds with his Leica taking in the palatial white granite architecture.

Park was taken by the sights and the lurid true tale, soaking in the experience as he seems to all his travels. The director and avid photographer had come to Austin to screen his Cannes hitThe Handmaidenat Fantastic Fest following its Toronto premiere. Hed tasted Texas BBQ. Hed shopped for trinkets along South Congress Ave. When we met to discuss his period lesbian love-thriller over fine Texan beers this week, he was still marveling at the beauty and hidden perversity forever tied to the Barsana Dham.

It reminded me a little of Uncle Kouzuki inThe Handmaiden, he joked of one of the many deliciously complex characters in his new film, speaking through his traveling companion and translator, Wonjo Jeong. Im a photographer. I thought going to a place like this Id be able to capture some absurd images on my camera. The power that religion has over people, how it draws people in, is always amazing.

Park, arguably Koreas most famed and celebrated filmmaker, made his directorial debut in 1992 and scored his first huge hit in 2000 with the record-breakingJ.S.A.: Joint Security Area, a military thriller about a mysterious murder between soldiers from North and South Korea. In 2003 he released his intoxicatingly elegiac revenge thrillerOldboyand became forever synonymous with its brand of hyperviolent, perverse brutality.

But there are stratums to Parks films, even as they tend toward the extremes of genre, from the two other films that round out hisVengeance Trilogyto his vampire taleThirstto 2013sStoker, the gothic potboiler that marked his English-language Hollywood debut. Consider: When he describes to me the walrus carved from walrus tusk hed just bought at one of Austins eclectic thrift stores, the conversation winds its way to a documentary hed enjoyed, also on the subject of discovering extraordinary objects in the most unexpected places.

It was a documentary calledFinding Vivian Maier, Park recalled. She worked as a nanny to children and at one estate sale one young man bought a lot of her films, and thats how this photographer Vivian Maier came to light. It provided lots of inspiration forCarol, starring Rooney Mara.

Seated at a long wooden table in the corner of a bustling Austin brewery armed with sampler flights of local craft beers, we toasted with a Bavarian-style lager dubbed the Hell Yes, and Park admitted that he prefers Texas BBQ to Korean BBQ. I just dont like marinated meat, he smiled. Please know this: Not all Koreans are fans ofbulgogi. He is, however, something of a beer connoisseur, although homegrown suds have a ways to go. Im really into the Belgian beers, Belgian ales. Korean beer is notorious for being the worst beer in the entire world, he lamented. But recently, a savior has risen in Korea! One of the big beer breweries has started to brew ales. Its very good.

Back home with friends when bar-hopping turns to karaokepractically a national pastimethats my cue to go home.

I envy those people who can play like that, he mused. But I wasnt born that way, unfortunately. Ive overcome a lot of my shyness over the years. Now I can do interviews and go onstage to introduce my films. Its always a difficult thing to do but the work has transformed me. Still, when I walk down the street and see myself on one of those big LED screens on the side of the building, I cringe.

Parks films, however, are quite the opposite: Bold, ballsy, stylish, and often intensely brutal, theyve come to represent the pinnacle of Koreas art house extreme. His is a signature thats difficult to replicate. But despite not yet having seen Spike Lees American remake of Oldboyitself an adaptation of a Japanese mangahes all for the reinterpretation of art. If he had to remake one of Lees films, Park mulled, it would be Jungle Fever.

InThe Handmaiden, Octobers sweeping and engrossing thriller set during Japanese colonial rule in Korea and adapted loosely from Sarah Waters England-set novelFingersmith, director Parks stamp is as evident as ever. Newcomer Kim Tae-ri stars as Sook-hee, a young Korean woman whos sent to work as the new handmaiden to Japanese noblewoman Lady Hideko (Kim Min-hee), who lives in quiet obedience to a Korean-born uncle whos obsessed with Japanese and Western culture. The twistat least, thefirsttwistis that Sook-hees really there to help swindle Hideko out of her fortune and take her place. The rest of The Handmaidens sublime treasures are best unspoiled save for the fact that the two women fall headlong in lovemaking for some steamy lesbian sex scenes that seized critics attention out of Cannes, as well as Parks most romantic film to date.

Get The Beast In Your Inbox!

Daily DigestStart and finish your day with the top stories from The Daily Beast.

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By clicking "Subscribe," you agree to have read the TermsofUse and PrivacyPolicy

Subscribe

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Park had wanted for a long time to portray a homosexual character onscreen, particularly in a Korean society that rarely sees such stories told. I knew I wanted to deal with the subject someday, he said. What kind of homosexual film? The kind where the protagonist, who is homosexual, is not afraid of his or her sexualityand is not suffering under the critical eye of a conservative society. I wanted to make a film free of all that.

He sips another sampler glass, a crisp pilsner a little too dry for his tastes. In this film, for the characters who have fallen in love with each other, its just a matter of course. Theres no question about it. The issue they have to overcome is entirely something else, in that one is supposed to be deceiving the other:Am I allowed to love the person Im tricking?There are other issues besides being the same sex.

In addition to depicting the magnetic attraction between its two female protagonists in tender and exquisite detail, The Handmaiden features some of the most frankly sensual lesbian lovemaking scenes sinceBlue is the Warmest Color. Like that films same-sex sex scenes, the film risks incurring criticisms of a leering male gaze, but they also unfold with a keen sense of humor that makes the steamy symmetry of his actresses nude gymnastics less lascivious and more lovingly real.

The humor is the crux, he emphasized. These sex scenes arent all about the panting, the sweating, the going through the motions. They constantly talk to each other, and they look at each others face, and they make jokes.

Sook-hee and Hideko are also two complex characters whose inner workings reflect bigger themes asThe Handmaidenunspools one layer after another. In transplanting the original novels setting to colonial Korea, Park seeded The Handmaidenwith pointed cultural criticisms loaded with meaning for the Korea of today as much as that of yesterday.

Films in Korea thus far which have depicted the colonial period were all about independent movements or resistance fighters, he said. But this film is all about falling in love with a Japanese woman. The villain is actually of Korean ethnicity. His mind, his inner workings, shows that of a typical Japanese sympathizercolonial lackeyat the time. We have enough stories and films about those who fought against Japanese imperialists. Why dont we show and talk about the Koreans who worshipped the Japanese?

He elaborated: My point is that this continues to this day. The only thing thats different is they no longer worship the Japanese imperialistsin their place, they worship the Americans. And rather than idolize American values, they have internalized American values.

In recent years, Park lent his voice to public petitions protesting his governments arms sales to Israel and the censorship of the Busan Film Festival (Compared to the people who put everything they have on the line for these fights and causes, its nothing, he said.) But its no coincidence that Park says what worries him the most about the world is the unequal distribution of wealth both at home in Korea and across the world at large.

Im not saying that everything about America is wrong, he said. Neither am I saying that everything from overseas is wrong. Im saying that everything needs to be in balance between whats our own and whats foreign, among those who have the money, the power, and the informationthe ruling class. One of the reasons some Americans say that this election is pointless is that whoever wins the election, well end up with the same world where capitalism is king.

Park also saw in The Handmaiden the chance to actively battle an industry-wide problem hed started to notice: The underrepresentation of female characters in film. Certainly my interest in young women has gone up because Im the father of a daughter, he said, raising a hoppy IPA to his lips, and it helped me to realize how in cinema there arent many films that deal with the desires of a young woman in an honest way. Films dont tend to portray women as the main subject. It helped me become aware of this problem.

He started showing his films to his daughter, whos now studying art at university, when she was a childwell, all of them except forOldboy, for obvious reasons. Because there was a father-daughter relationship I couldnt bring myself to show it to her, he said. She saw it when she went to university. Fortunately she likes my films. Both women in his life nameThe Handmaidenas their favorite movie of his.

I have heard there is a debate at this film festival where a verbal debate is followed by a boxing match, he smiled, referring to the annual Fantastic Fest spectacle known as the Fantastic Debates, where filmmakers and critics face off over vital cinematic topics and determine the ultimate winner by pounding it out in the ring. I wouldlovefor someone to step up and put this to the test: Prove that all of Park Chan-wooks films are romantic films.

Its ironic to Park, and perhaps a bit frustrating, that he might be known as an artist most concerned with stories of violent revengealthough his films, includingThe Handmaiden, have that, too. Deep down, hes got a romantic streak. It peeks out when he describes how, years ago, he met his wife and saw Vertigo for the first time, and thus fell in love twice on the same day. Creatively I ask her for her opinions and I take a lot of her suggestions, he said. And shes my first love.

Why, then, does he think his films tend toward boundary-pushing extremes of human behavior, like incest, betrayal, mutilation, and extreme violence? Because Ive lived such a boring and mundane life, he shrugged. Every storyteller should never confine themselves to the very small limits of their own experience. Rather, they should be able to put themselves in the position of every different kind of human beingand sometimes non-human beings, as well.

If Park has the ability to put himself in the paws of animals for the sake of art, does he feel bad even years later, for the poor octopi that gave their lives to be eaten by Choi Min-sik inOldboy, in whats still one of the most indelible scenes hes ever filmed?

He considered it, sipping a hoppy red named the Big Mama, a dish of bacon-wrapped quail between us. Not really, he said. In Korea, live octopus is served sliced into pieces, still wriggling on the plate. What difference does it make if its eaten chopped or whole?

Some cephalopod enthusiasts argue that octopi, with their uncanny abilities to liberate themselves from tanks and multitask, are creatures of consciousness who maybe even have souls. I explained how its a thought that haunts me every time I rewatch that scene in Oldboy, the tentacles writhing in Oh Dae-sus mouth as he renders its owner apartarguably that films most sensual and sensory moment, a visceral collision of art, life, and real violence.

Director Park gave it another moments thought. Im not sure whether the existence of a soul equates to your level of intellectual ability. Do we say that snappers dont have souls, but octopi do? If thats the case, what about cows and pigs? he countered, a twinkle in his eye. Youve seenBabe, right?

from All Of Beer http://allofbeer.com/2017/06/25/inside-the-handmaiden-a-lesbian-erotic-thriller-and-the-sexiest-film-of-the-year/