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meadow-selfship · 8 months

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Hans Gruber x Minoes (s/i): Temperance

This is a prompt fill for Self-indulgent September, for the prompt 'Magic' :)). I wanted to pair it with the least magical f/o, so here it is for Hans <3. The tarot deck used is the Thoth deck by Aleister Crowley - but not that his version of the card Temperance is named Art. I kept it as Temperance to tie in with the theme of this fic.

Title: Temperance

Summary: Hans searches out the daughter of an old associate of his, and finds her reading tarot cards at a festival. Out of place as he may be at a spiritual festival, he has a good time getting to know her. She reads his cards before he reveals that the game they are playing is all his.

Warnings: gun. deception. kidnapping. sfw.

Wordcount: 2882

Divider by saradika

Incense smoke hung heavy in the air. Hans looked around at the many small booths at the festival grounds, observant as a predator on the hunt. Who would be his mouse? Soft flute music mixed with the chatter. He stuck out like a sore thumb between the colourful hippies and the casually dressed, but there were some other men like him around. Rich men with heavy golden watches around their wrists. Most of them accompanied younger women with crystal necklaces and a tattoo of their zodiac sign on their bicep. It was an interesting change of pace from the urban locations he usually scoped out.

The booths with jewellery alternated ones with posters of wolves and foxes, or essential oils, or hand sewn velvet drawstring bags for crystals; then a woman who gave belly dancing workshops; a man who advertised his mediumship and promised to get you in touch with your ancestors; another who did reiki massage and crystal healing. So on and so forth. Hans didn't care, but he did care about the exact paths of entry into the grounds, where he parked his car, what he will say once he’s found his prey.

He cringed as he felt a headache form from the conflicting incense smells, but reminded himself of his purpose here. His lip quirked up as he imagined the fruits of his schemes, all coming together. There, he saw the booth, just up ahead. It was a tent of sorts, not that it looked very sturdy, with draping fabrics in deep jewel tones like the wings of beetles. A sign outside read 'tarot readings', and a list of prices underneath. Two people stood outside it, talking softly but animatedly, holding hands tightly. Maybe they just came out, and now had a lot to process. It was too dark to see inside, past the beaded curtain that shimmered like rain droplets on a window.

He entered, the beaded curtain tinkling behind him. Letting his eyes adjust to the dark, first there were only more fabrics, more gleaming beads, crystals, fringed tablecloths... He almost scoffed at the garish decorations. Then he saw her. His mouse. A smile appeared on his face, and he stepped closer with an air of ease. The air of a panther.

She sat at a small table, with several different velvets draped over it. Sitting on a comfortable arm chair, she had her legs crossed in a relaxed posture. He has entered her space, her bubble. In contrast to all of the overly maximalist fabrics, patterns, beads, decorations, mirrors, crystals and colours - she dressed only in black. A waterfall of black wavy hair fell down over her shoulders, half of it pinned up behind her head, long enough that he couldn't tell where it ended, hidden by the table cloth. He didn't recognise much of her father in her, but then again; her father didn't wear kajal nor lipstick.

"Hello, miss..."

"Welcome," she said, and he got the sense that she waited for him to take it all in, waited until he noticed her, to greet him. That she sat there, observing him as he looked around. Despite his less than kind purpose in coming here, it unsettled him for a second. He had to remind himself that he likely wasn't the first sceptic she met.

"It's Minoes, or miss Van der Linden, as the sign says. Come, sit," she said, softly, gesturing to the chair opposite of her. He loved this part of the hunt; seeing her in her element, unsuspecting, so at ease with a man like him.

He sat down on the chair. It wobbled a little on the uneven grass, even though the ground was covered by a Persian tapestry. She smelled of patchouli, and it was refreshing to smell something else than incense. He took her in more closely. The details that her passport photo didn't reveal; soft hairs by her temples, the playful glisten in her eyes, how she was older than in the pictures he saw of her, yet she felt livelier, the roundness of her cheeks, that her double chin showed when she looked down at her deck of cards. The rings she wore, silver with garnet stones (cheap, but the colour suited her), and how they pulled his attention to her hands and the long nails that tapped against the cards’ surface.

"I like your suit," she said, checking him out unashamedly.

"Thank you," he said, trying another smile. She reached for her cards with an ease of someone having done this so many times before. Perhaps it was the atmosphere, or the copious amounts of smoke, that got to his head, but the way she moved was magnetic. He was sucked in, just watching her move, her fingers dancing to straighten out the layers of tablecloth, then pick up the cards again.

"What brings you here?" she asked. Professional. To the point. She observed him closely as she shuffled the cards slowly, letting them fall from palm to palm.

"I'd like a reading," he said. "That is what you do, yes?"

She clacked her tongue at him, shaking her head softly, the sounds of cards being shuffled coming to a stop. "I doubt you actually want a reading. But that's alright, I can do one anyway, if you're curious, or want to pass the time. It makes no difference to me."

He stiffened. Did she know something? "A reading will be fine."

Minoes extended her hand over the table, palm up, then when he didn't respond, she raised her eyebrows at him, making a 'come here' motion. He gave her his hand, which she then planted, palm open, on the velvet cloth. In it, she put the tarot deck. "Try shuffling it."

They laid heavy and warm in his hand, awkwardly sharp at the corners. He frowned at her. "I thought that was your job."

"We know each other, don't we?" she asked, narrowing her eyes at him, leaning her chin on her hand. "You feel familiar."

Hans chuckled, letting himself laugh to distract from his unease. "I feel familiar?"

She smiled back and shrugged. "Like one of my dad's old friends. Same accent too."

He quieted, debating on how far to carry his ruse. Was she truly this perceptive? Or did anyone with a German accent remind her of his old crew?

She waved him to give her the deck back and he did. "Men like you often give me less trouble when I've compared them to my father." And she grinned, eyes twinkling.

Was that it? A mere tactic? For a second he was stunned. Perhaps there was more to here than he thought; a far more calculating personality underneath the velvet and the fringe. Truly Thomas’ daughter.

Yet, Hans couldn't resist. Lowly, he asked: "What kind of men did your father have as friends?"

She shrugged and shuffled the cards some more, dividing the deck into stacks, then shuffling again. "Business men, mostly. I'm sure you're a lot nicer than you appear, when you keep an open mind."

He almost laughed at the absurd irony of the situation, but held himself back from showing teeth just yet. The gun in his waistband pressed hard against his stomach. Patience, there was time, he bade himself. He'd enjoy it more if he practiced temperance. Done shuffling, she laid out three cards, facing down, on the tablecloth.

"No, that's not right," she mumbled to herself, and placed another two down, underneath the first three. He wondered if she believed in the cards, in their magic, or if it was just a job to her. A means to an end. "Are you a sceptic?"

The question was rather disarming, especially in the tone she used. So honest.

"I can't say I've ever had a reading before," he said. She nodded, and took another moment too long to look at him. Even outside thrill of the hunt, he was starting to enjoy himself.

"You're very diplomatic, I like that," she mused, and turned over the first card. A man sitting atop a throne, clad in red , holding a sceptre, all in red and yellows, an array of symbols and animals around him. "This represents you."

He frowned at her words. It looked nothing like him. Then she turned over the second one: a fountain with two fishes, streams of water flowing from a flower at the top of it, into two large cups. "That's your near future. A positive card, the Two of Cups. A card of infatuation. Now the question remains: who is the lucky one?"

The third of the first row: a figure on a surface of water, so still it perfectly mirrored the image above, yet her face was shrouded in ripples of mist. Lotus flowers floated on the water in perfect symmetry. It read: Queen of Cups.

"Ah, that's good. Fitting."

Hans leaned forward, trying to see what she saw. He wondered if she saw the delight of his sweet revenge. Or his deception. She looked up from the cards, long nail tapping at the first card. "The first one represents you. The second one is a situation that is taking shape in your near future. Let's start with there. It's possibly a new meeting, or a new connection that is growing between you and someone else. It could also depict a skill you're picking up that is bringing you a lot of joy. Something on the emotional plane, something you feel strongly about."

Hans didn't hide his grin. Something bringing him a lot of joy? He couldn't wait to see Thomas' face after he knew Hans had his precious daughter in his grasp.

"Continuing on to the Queen here, she represents the energy of the person you'll meet. An emotional, dreamy energy. If it represents a person, it's someone who fascinates you, who seems to bewitch you against all rationality. She touches parts of you deep within. Rest assured, as a partner, she's deeply loving. If it's a skill, it's something that lets you clear your mind and daydream during it, something that makes you wiser in the long run."

Minoes noticed him quirking an eyebrow at her words and held back a sigh. "It'll make sense later. In a month you'll remember this reading and think 'huh, perhaps Minoes was right after all'. When things are unfolding, it’s hard to find clarity, and if you’re not used to the cards and their way of speaking, that clarity will come later."

Unexpectedly touched by her conviction in her skills, Hans let out a soft laugh. Her annoyance withered away quick.

"Moving back to you; the Emperor. A strong card. A man of order, a man who strives for domination of the mind over nature, who wants clarity, who wants his structure to rule over all. Does that sounds like you?"

"What if it doesn't?" he asked, amused.

She raised her eyebrows at him. "If I take just one look at you; the suit and that Swiss watch on your wrist, I know enough."

He chuckled. "Fair enough. What else?"

Minoes reached over to turn over the remaining two cards. The first one depicted a strange double figure pouring different elements - fire and water - into a cup. The second one showed many swords on a blue background. It didn't look like a happy card at all.

"I love how this card, Temperance, marries the colours of the Emperor and the Two of Cups, do you see that?" she tapped the card with her long nail, pointing to the red bird that resembled the red in the Emperor card. "There is balance here, visually, which is very fitting to you."

She could be reading from a dictionary and he'd still listen to her, he thought. No longer with his hunt on his mind, he enjoyed this – she was charismatic in a disarming way, practiced and graceful, and he easily imagined anyone less sceptical than him hanging on to her every word. Even he felt himself drawn in by her, by the sparkle in her eyes, the slightest of smiles pulling at the corner of her mouth as she looked at the cards, explaining it all with such ease, the way she seemed to look right through him.

God, that a man as idiotic as Thomas could have a daughter this darling...

"In the dynamic that is presented here, a fault of yours would be to exert too tight a grip on what or who you love, which ends up lessening the joy you feel in the connection or skill you’re building. And you judge harshly. Not of others, necessarily - of yourself. A perfectionist. If you can’t go along with the flow of water that is in both the two of cups and the queen of cups, that feeling of adoration will wither quick."

"Noted."

She moved on to the blue card, the last one. "The other one... Well, this is not such a joyful card. It represents bad compromises, or someone close to you being dishonest. Innocence is used against one's self and taken advantage of. The colour scheme aligns all too well with the Queen, so unfortunately, it doesn't look as pleasant for that side of the equation. If this applies to the Queen as a person, she has lost her usual calm and no longer sees clearly."

Oh, she saw his deception after all. He delighted in having exercised patience and let her do her thing.

"To tie this together, your side of this reading is very balanced, exactly as you’d prefer." As she was still bent over the cards, Hans unbuttoned his suit jacket and reached inside. "The cards are in your favour, sir." Minoes smiled at him, glad to give him good news, whether he believed her or not.

The moment the gun landed on the table, pointing away from her still, her smile faltered – and his grew. Calmness washed over him. This was his game now.

"Liebling, let's do it the easy way. You're coming with me."

"So I was right," she said, face blank, eyeing the gun, her posture stiff. She sat up straight to face him, holding herself steady with her hands gripping her thighs. "Which one of them are you? Tony? He was always a bit out of control. Or Fritz, or Heinrich?"

"Hans."

She nodded once. "Hans."

"Pleasure to make your acquaintance." He couldn't hold back his giddiness. Revenge, sweeter than honey, kissed his lips, and he was famished for it. He extended his free hand. "Come, up. Let us keep it civil."

"So this is all because of my dad? The whole ruse? Why even let me finish the reading, then?"

"We have time to chat later, Mausi, now get up."

Minoes flinched at his menacing tone, but still didn't budge. "Where to?"

He gave her an annoyed look, one that made her heart tighten with fear. There was a gun on the table and he didn't look angry, but annoyed. Her lack of cooperation was only a minor nuisance to him. She knew what these men were capable of, that's why her dad got out in the only way he thought possible; one that now bit her in the ass. The unfairness of it was bitter in her mouth.

Hans... He used to be reasonable. A strategist. Not that he didn't get his hands dirty when he had to, but this is better than if it were Tony. Yes, she decided, and briskly stood up. He followed her, gun in hand, but before he could grab her arm, she tidied up her cards and grabbed the pouch from the side and tucked them inside.

He gave an exasperated look. "You're bringing those?"

His hand was tight on her upper arm, guiding her towards the beaded curtain. Even to outsiders this wouldn't look civil, he'd have to keep her in check, once outside the tent.

"Being kidnapped seems like a rather dull affair," she bit. "Now will you put the gun away, you’ve made your point – there’s no need for it."

The corner of his mouth quirked upwards; a bit of her father's feistiness in her after all. "Are you sure you can behave?" And tucked it back in his waistband. The moment he did, was the moment she tried it: elbowing him in the ribs and going for his gun. Instead, she found herself slammed, face first, down on the small table, an arm twisted painfully behind her back.

He clacked his tongue. "I hoped your father raised you better than that." The displeased curl of his voice was too hot by her ear, and it tingled in all the wrong ways.

She bit her tongue not to let out any immature curses, and he let her up. He pulled her to him by her hair, angling her face up to his. "Going to be good now?"

Swallowing thickly, she nodded. He enjoyed the thoughts flashing across her face, the fear, the uncertainty, finally; how she gave in. Allowing himself to let the moment linger for a little longer, savouring it, before letting go.

He directed her out of the venue with a tightly guiding hand and a pleased smile. Had he ever had a revenge sweeter than this?

#hans gruber #hans gruber x oc #hans gruber x s/i #📔 noli me tangere 🍂#self ship community #self ship #selfshipping #die hard (1988)#self shipping #fictional other #f/o x s/i #meadow's writing

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defat1 · 5 months

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Die Hard 6: Dig Your Own Grave

Had a dream last cycle and @frankly-ludicrous begged me to tell Tumblr so here goes.

Imagine a world where Die Hard ended just slightly differently. Hans Gruber, terrorist turned failed heist mastermind, escapes dramatically with a quip to McClane that he'll have his revenge. Christmas is saved, the movie ends.

In my dream, John McClane and his buddy, oddly also bald, openly bisexual, and entirely too ride-or-die energy, Actual Mark Wahlberg as Mark Wahlberg, are on a vacation to Paris. Not sure where, there were catacombs, it doesn't matter. There's a masquerade wedding set to take place in the catacombs, they were probably there for that. They're getting some food and chatting about how hard the last few decades have been on McClane, Marky Mark is fully manic talking about some wild events, it quickly becomes apparent that they have history.

Bomb goes off. Everyone ducks for cover, McClane starts doing the thing he apparently has been doing for a while.

(My dreams are very cinematic, I swear this is exactly how it went)

It soon becomes apparent, as McClane mows through one terrorist after another, that these guys aren't exactly upper crust professionals. He finally gets injured by a guy who is, inexplicably, holding two hunting rifles akimbo and firing from the hip. As McClane retreats, we cut to our villain, who we finally find out is a very tired, very very upset Japanese man who is doing a passable imitation of Alan Rickman. Then you realize, as he starts yelling at his men and expositing, that this is Hans Gruber, 2 decades later, and this is the latest movie of an entire series of Die Hard movies where Hans Gruber is the villain and John McClane is that pest that fate keeps putting in his way.

John McClane isn't chasing Gruber anymore; that probably stopped in the third movie. Hans tells his men that he got plastic surgery and worked on a master plan for 10 years in Japan, and it just so happened that John McClane was there that weekend for some award ceremony, and Hans Gruber lost another elite team. Hans Gruber is out of elite teams, and he is trying to impress upon these morons that if they don't do exactly as he says, all of them are dead, just like everyone else who crossed John Motherfucking McClane.

The movie-dream continued a while. Mark Wahlberg lived through the initial mass shooting and is way, extremely too hyped to help McClane, up to and including offering to be a human knockout gas bomb delivery system in the form of surrendering himself as a hostage. Gruber frantically searches for the Mcguffin he is here for while imagining the grim reaper Willis around every corner and curve in the catacombs. McClane is leaning towards the school of Tropic Thunder instead of John Wick. It's a blast, like a fragment of the 80s got blasted into orbit, glassed on re-entry, and landed in the modern box office reeking of gunsmoke and holiday spirit. And it's clear the series are holiday movies, each a different major holiday, and this one, where McClane has officially become Gruber's reaper, is clearly the Halloween entry, an end to a franchise that paints the hero as the horror movie slasher he is.

Then I woke up. Even I don't get the ending to the Die Hard series we deserved. I could have made up an ending, but I think I'll leave it up to you. Imagine a world where Die Hard wasn't trying to be serious, and end it how you want.

#die hard #dream recall #storytime ig #the inner machinations of my mind are an enigma

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cannibalcoyote · 1 year

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Masterlist:

*Imagines that aren’t linked means that they aren’t published yet*

Original Art

Original Stories:

Senseless Reality

Series

Imagines/One-shots:

Die Hard(Movies):

Simon Gruber Pt.1: A Stranger

Simon Gruber Pt.2: A Savior

Simon Gruber: Escape

Simon/Hans Gruber Pt.1: Alone

Simon Gruber Pt.2: I Will Protect You

Simon Gruber: Am I Worth Anything?

Simon Gruber: Vengeance

Simon Gruber: Lost

Simon Gruber: Fear

DH3 Cast: Anxiety

Star Trek:

Christopher Pike: You Saved Me

Christopher Pike: Arguments

Seven of Nine: Effigy

War Games(1983):

Dr. Stephen Falken: Enough Games

Dr. Stephen Falken: Living in the Past

David Lightman: Escape

David Bowie/Characters:

David Bowie: Sun Rays to Rainy Days

David Bowie: The Actress

David Bowie: Kid Sister

David Bowie: Confrontations

David Bowie: Determination

David Bowie: Don't Go

David Bowie: Security

Jack Celliers: Beautiful Eyes

Jack Celliers: Sadie

Jack Celliers: Alive

Rockstar: Your Story(Interview)

I Can't Stay Here Anymore

Jareth: Quelled Fear

Jareth: Twin Souls

Jareth: Lost Child

Jareth: Lost Queen

Jareth: Back Away

Mick Ronson:

Rockstar: Your Story(Interview)

I Can't Stay Here Anymore

Hannibal(TV):

Hannibal Lecter Pt.1: Antisocial

Hannibal Lecter Pt.2:Antisocial

Hannibal Lecter: New Patient

Hannibal Lecter: Protector

Marvel/DC:

Alfred Pennyworth: Alone

The Elder Maximoff(Series)

Animes:

Beastars- Pina: Leave My Lioness Alone

Beastars- L/Rouis: Scars

SpyxFamily- Loid Forger: Ease Up Old Man

TLOK- Kuvira: Safe

TLOK- Kuvira: A Friendly Face

TLOK- Kuvira: Prison Break

TLOK- Kuvira: Freedom

TLOK- Kuvira: An Uncertain Future

TLOK- Kuvira: Fury

TLOK- Kuvira: Ambush

TLOK- Kuvira: Sisters

TLOK- Kuvira: Bandits

TLOK- Kuvira: The Abused

TLOK- Kuvira: Fear

TLOK- Kuvira: Regret

TLOK- Kuvira: Sergeant

TLOK- Kuvira: Gone Astray

TLOK- Kuvira: Critical

TLOK- Lin Beifong: Family

TLOK- Lin Beifong: Lost

Black Butler- Sebastian Michaelis: Reaper

The Lion King:

Scar: What Did I Do?

Scar: Betrayal

Scar's Adopted Brother(Series)

Cats(Musical):

Munkustrap: The Beast He Made

Munkustrap: Why?

Broadchurch:

Alec Hardy: A Messed Up Situation

Alec Hardy: Correlation Does Not Equal Causation

Unraveled (Series)

Harry Potter:

Severus Snape: Siblings

BBC:

Doctor Who- 10th Doctor: Reunited

Doctor Who- 11th Doctor: I Didn't Mean To

Johnny Depp:

Johnny Depp: Bodyguard Bestfriend

Tom Hanson: Where is Y/N?

Sweeney Todd: Feeling Fatherly

John Dillinger: I Loved You

Jack Sparrow: Too Far

George Jung: Dangerous Affair

House MD:

Gregory House: Consequences

MASH:

Benjamin 'Hawkeye' Pierce: Decisions

Margaret ‘Hot Lips’Houlihan: Friends

NCIS/Criminal Minds:

Aaron Hotchner: Found Out

Aaron Hotchner: First and Last Phone Call

BAU: Team Member to Murderer

Jethro Gibbs: The Dangers of Pride

Peaky Blinders:

Thomas Shelby: The Blind Woman

The Dressmaker:

Tilly Dunnage: I'll Be Here

LOTR/The Hobbit:

Thranduil: Why Did You Run?

Thranduil: Abandoned

Thranduil: Nin Naur

Woodland Princess (Series)

House of the Dragon:

Daemon Targaryen: Daughter

Daemon Targaryen: Bastard

Daemon Targaryen: Unexpected

Daemon Targaryen/Matt Smith: Two Face

Aemond Targaryen: Blood Debt

Hazbin Hotel:

Alastor: Protector

Alastor: Slave

Alastor: Facades

Alastor: Attachment

Alastor: Severance

Alastor: Tie

Alastor: Loyalty

Alastor: Lost

Alastor: Dealmaker

Alastor: Paternal

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celestialsister0918 · 2 years

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What happens when Norman Stansfield meets Hans Gruber in a bar to strike a new business deal? Hans throws in a couple innocent young girls from the next table over to sweeten the deal...

WARNINGS: Dubious consent, alcohol, presence of guns, loss of virginity, rough sex. Pairings are M/F and F/F. 18+. These aren't nice guys and we keep them mostly in character, so proceed with caution. Consent is there, but circumstances can make it read as dubious. Do be kind to yourself and honor your triggers!

Check out this series of one-shots on Wattpad and AO3. This is a collaboration with fellow fanfic author @slytherinsight221. Three parts published with more to come...

#hans gruber #norman stansfield #leon the professional #die hard #90s movies #alan rickman #gary oldman #smutty fanfiction #oneshots #one shot collection #pornwithplot

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severussnapeconfessions · 6 months

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Every time I read the books I always imagine Snape to look like he did as Hans Gruber in Die Hard. When I get to sections that describe his appearance I slightly ignore it.

Wait until you read this bit https://www.tumblr.com/queersnape/727415038225350657/joannes-an-idiot-id-have-been-in-love-with-this?source=share&ref=vulnus-sanare

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billconrad · 8 months

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Powerful Villains

I believe most people on this beautiful planet are good. We go about our daily lives while trying to do the right thing, help people, and take the blame for our actions. Yet, a few people are less than ideal, and an even smaller number are truly evil. Some examples would be The WWII Axis leaders Ivan the Terrible, Saddam Hussain, the North Korean Kim dynasty, serial killer Jeffery Dahmer, and cult leader David Koresh.

How do the bad people feel about their actions? Let’s examine an aggressive driver that constantly places others in danger. There would be incidents, and their mind would develop a defense mechanism. “The rest of my life is great; this is my one escape.” Complete denial, “Everybody drives bad. I’m no exception.” A deflection, “I’m a skilled driver. Nobody else can drive.” A defensive argument, “I’m protecting myself from other drivers.” Or a deferral, “The rest of my life is great, and this is my one escape.”

Fictional villains are in a different class because their purpose is to entertain. Several examples come to mind: the crazy book fan in Stephen King novel Misery, Darth Vader from Star Wars, Joker from Batman, Hans Gruber from Die Hard, and Agent Smith from The Matrix.

Writers add villains to give the moral character a reason to fight, add tension, advance the plot, or make the excellent character look even better. These characters span the range from slightly annoying to beyond contempt. Selfish motives, anger, aggression, laziness, a love of inflicting pain and a lack of empathy define them.

There is a big difference between a fictional villain and a real-life person. They must have a clearly defined motivation. Readers need to know why a person is the way they are, or they will be confused. The backstory can be a simple “he had an awful childhood” or an entire chapter dedicated to their history with the other characters.

In my first book, Interviewing Immortality. My villain appears as a dominatrix serial killer. Later, I reveal that she is not truly evil (at least in her mind). Her level of violence is far above average, and her attitude contains a thin sliver of compassion. By the end of the book, the reader is not fully convinced that she is a good person, but they clearly understand her motives.

What about crazy people? My advice is to use the characters sparingly. For example, in my fifth book, Kim and Gabe Thrive (now in the writing phase), my main character is pumping gas when a random jerk insults her. She insults the person back and drives away with no further interaction.

In this brief encounter, I used this villain to show the main character is strong, specifically as a mother who does not accept insults, which would be an excellent example to her daughter. It would be necessary to provide a full background if there was a need for further interaction.

What about a supernatural story where characters are mean all the time? Say a dystopian reality. The author would have to lay a different foundation for this type of story. In crazy world, everybody is a jerk.

What about a supervillain like the type that James Bond would encounter? There must be logic behind the villain’s actions (usually money). In this extreme case, the reader does not necessarily relate to the villain, but they respect their logic, even if it is vastly flawed. In my humble writings, I try to stay from super/extreme characters because I have never interacted with such people, which makes it difficult to imagine such a character.

What about a real-life supervillain, Saddam Hussain, or Jeffery Dahmer. Reality can be muddy, and readers need clarity. James Bond would go after the supervillain in a fictional story, but the media would have over-the-top coverage until the world’s armies stopped Saddam Hussain or Jeffery Dahmer.

Some villains do not fit the traditional mold, like the anti-hero. Or the super nice person who makes us feel terrible. Characters like this are in their class, and their motivations are complex. In such a chase, it is essential to have an entire backstory, or the reader will put down the book.

Where does this all lead us? A good villain must have a clear foundation, a rational motive, and be relatable. The writer needs an obvious goal for the villain to move the plot along. By the end of the story, the reader should have fully understood their motives, which will allow them to tolerate their awful actions.

What about me? Am I a villain? I try hard to live a good life, treat people respectfully, and help where possible. However, I have room to grow and know of several colossal failures. If I were to be honest with myself, I am a B+.

Wait a minute. I write books that contain stories about bad people. They torture, kill, and are not productive members of society. Does that mean I am in denial of my true self? Denial is the most significant trait of a villain. Hmm. Something to think about.

You’re the best -Bill

August 27, 2023

Hey book lovers, I published four. Please check them out:

Interviewing Immortality. A dramatic first-person psychological thriller that weaves a tale of intrigue, suspense, and self-confrontation.

Pushed to the Edge of Survival. A drama, romance, and science fiction story about two unlikely people surviving a shipwreck and living with the consequences.

Cable Ties. A slow-burn political thriller that reflects the realities of modern intelligence, law enforcement, department cooperation, and international politics.

Saving Immortality. Continuing in the first-person psychological thriller genre, James Kimble searches for his former captor to answer his life’s questions.

These books are available in soft-cover on Amazon and eBook format everywhere.

#writing #books #villain #character analysis

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chronocidalrage · 2 years

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I’m sure it would annoy me too, but I’d probably love doing improv

Think about it. All Atom and I used to do was “yes, and” each other.

That’s what we used to do. Imagine shit together. I’ll never forget us writing that Bruce Campbell mall cop movie together (back when Atom was a mall cop at South Shore Plaza, more than a decade before that Paul Blart movie). Conan O’Brien was gonna be the Hans Gruber. It would have been so good.

Atom and I just spitting it out as it came us to us, me trying to write it all down on paper. That is one of my all time favorite memories. Being that in tune with someone, so in tune that you don’t have to connect over something that actually exists, but something you’re both imagining. That’s so intimate. Dreaming together. That's a serious connection.

When I die, I really hope I’m known for my imagination and creative ability. Honestly. It’s important to me. I’ll have to work on using those parts of me more if that’s what I want.

Atom is gonna miss seeing Donnie Yen in John Wick 4. So fucking sad. He would’ve loved that.

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myveryownfanfiction · 4 months

Text

Rickmas day 14: a light in the night

18+ MINORS AND THOSE WITHOUT AGE IN BIO DNI

tags: @illiana-mystery, @cassieuncaged, @iobsessoverfictionalmen, @deepperplexity

warnings: swearing, smut, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it kids)

I sat next to the fire, book long forgotten as I stared out the window. It was just after the new year and I hadn’t left the cabin. The news had reported that Hans had died after falling off nakatomi. He’d asked me to stay at the cabin until he sent word and unless someone from the team called me or used the code phrase, that’s where I would stay. Yesterdays paper sat on the kitchen table with theos statement on the whole matter.

I jumped as there was a knock on the door. Slowly making my way over, I waited. Two more short knocks followed and I gasped before trying to open the door. My hand slipped off the lock and I groaned in frustration. Throwing it open, I choked back a sob as Hans quickly entered the cabin.

“I saw the light on.” Hans breathed out. He closed and locked the door before whirling on me to pull me into a kiss. “What are you doing up so late?” I held onto his coat tightly and shook my head.

“You’re alive.” I breathed out. “They kept saying you were dead. But you’re alive.” I buried my face in hans’ neck. He smoothed his hands over my back.

“ when you steal $600, you can just disappear.” He said, voice slightly teasing. “When you steal 600 million, they will catch you. Unless they think you’re already dead.” I buried myself deeper into him as he tightened his grip on me.

“Hans.” I breathed out, pulling back and cupping his cheeks. He stared back at me with a smile. Turning to kiss my palm, Hans nodded. “You got it. You actually got it.”

“I did.” He confirmed. I pulled him in for a kiss and he growled into it. His fingers flexed at my hips and I started to pull him backwards towards the bedroom. Pausing for a second, Hans dipped down and wrapped his hands around my legs before picking me up. I wrapped my legs around his waist and he continued to walk me to the bed. “I’ve missed you.”

“I’ve missed you more.” I whined. Hans smiled down at me. He started to undress me and I made him stop. “Need you. Can’t wait.” Hans nodded and pulled my pants down enough so that he had access. “I know. I know.” He breathed out as he undid his belt and pushed his pants down. “Ready little one?” He smirked down at me. I nodded and pulled him down for a kiss.

“Hans. Please.” I whined. He hushed me as he slid in. We both moaned before hans started thrusting into me, hard and fast.

“I’m not going to last. It’s been too long.” Hans breathed out as he kissed along my neck. I groaned and buried my fingers in his hair. “Mein Liebling. Meine Liebe.” I moaned as hans tilted my hips up.

“Hans. Close. So close.” I murmured as Hans kissed me again.

“Meins.” He groaned. I let out a strangled cry as my orgasm washed over me. Hans groaned as he followed me over the cliff. “It’s good to be back.” He breathed out as he held me close to him, basking in the after glow.

#alan rickman #alan rickman fanfiction #alan rickman fanfic #alan rickman imagine #alan rickman x reader #hans gruber #hans gruber fanfic #hans gruber x reader #hans gruber fanfiction #hans gruber imagine #Rickmas #rickmas2023

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