#flash fiction fest fill
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For @fuzipenguin who prompted: 'Rude/Cloud/Reno, the exception, not the rule'
They always share.
That’s the rule. Rude always shares with Reno, and Reno always shares with Rude, and they never share more than once because no one else actually matters. They’re toys or distractions or brief surges of lust.
But it figures pretty boy Cloud would be the one exception. This is… what? The fifth time they’ve had that blond bastard between them? Rude would know; Reno’s lost count. There’s something about him that they just can’t quit.
Like right now.
Cloud’s naked, bouncing up and down on Rude’s cock like it’s his job, his wrists cuffed behind his back and sweat sheening all over that pale skin of his. Pale, unmarked skin because fuck Soldiers and their super-fast healing. Bastard doesn’t have a single scar on him.
Rude’s leaned back in the chair, all comfortable, but still wearing his suit. Took off the jacket because cumstains are a bitch to get out, and he’s rolled up his sleeves the way he knows Reno likes, but he’d only opened his pants enough to get his cock out and into Cloud.
Fuck, it just don’t get better than this.
Reno finally stands from where he’s been watching the show. He takes the last swig of his beer and sets it aside. Rude looks at him – not Cloud, despite all that muscle twitching, soft whimpering he’s making – and Rude’s eyes are an invitation. So Reno strolls on over and leans on Rude’s shoulder, whispers in his partner’s ear all seductive-like.
“How’s he feel?” he asks with a friendly nip to Rude’s ear.
Those big hands tighten on Cloud’s waist. Pull him back and into stillness so Rude can push up for a nice and deep grind.
“Tight,” Rude grunts, his thumbs pressing dimples to the left and right of Cloud’s spine.
“Better than me?” Reno asks, not because he’s suddenly feeling replaced, but because it makes Cloud tighten up when they talk about him like he isn’t there.
Rude chuffs. “Don’t be stupid.” He plants his feet and thrusts up, jolting a cry out of Cloud from behind clenched teeth. “You want him next?”
“Nope.” Reno pops the word and nips Rude’s ear. “I want him now.”
Rude’s breathing hitches. There’s a bead of sweat on his forehead that Reno tastes with his lips. “I’m not done.”
Yeah, but sharing is caring, right?
“His mouth’s free, ain’t it?” Reno asks, and both of them shudder at that – Rude all over as he drags Cloud down for another one of those deep grinds he likes, and Cloud visibly tensing, his fingers curling into tight fists as he fights off a moan.
Reno doesn’t wait for an answer. He strides around so he can see Cloud’s face, and his dick, already frustrated at not getting wet inside a squirming blond, gives a hard twitch and blurt of pre.
Cloud looks wrecked. The kind of wrecked Reno feels after a good dicking from Rude, face all flushed, hair limp, cock purple and dripping, nipples tight and red from Rude playing with ‘em earlier, eyes all bright but hazy. He’s trying to glare at Reno, and it’s a pretty cute attempt. Cloud always acts like this, like he didn’t show up on their doorstep specifically to get fucked unconscious. Like he’s their dirty little secret and it’s not the other way around.
“How about it, soldier boy?” Reno asks as he gets a grip of Cloud’s chin and runs the pad of his thumb over Cloud’s lower lip. “Your mouth good for more than bullshit?”
Cloud’s tongue flicks over the tip of Reno's thumb. He’s trying to glare again, but his breathing is all quick and hot. “Is yours?”
Reno barks a laugh. “My mouth is the best in this room,” he declares, which Rude agrees with a hum. “But you haven’t earned that yet.”
He keeps hold of Cloud’s jaw, tilts his head down to watch as Reno thumbs open his belt, his button, his zipper, lets his pants sag down and his dick pop free. He gives himself a stroke and squeeze, pre spilling out around the ring in his slit.
“Come on,” Reno purrs as he pulls Cloud’s head down and Rude helps out, the way a best partner does, until Cloud’s right where he needs to be, staring right at Reno’s dick. “Give him a lick like a good boy.”
Reno says ‘lick’. He expects the bright-eyed glare that flicks up at him. He waits for the muttered sarcastic comment. He is not ready for the way Cloud attacks his dick like a starving man at a buffet. Cloud gobbles him down like he’s not happy without a dick in his mouth, no finesse, no style, just straight up tongue and throat, and Reno’s knees go weak.
“Fuck,” he breathes and buries his hands in silky blond hair. He’s got Cloud’s nose in his pubes, and Cloud’s throat tight around his dick, and he doesn’t know if he’s going to last.
Especially not when Rude fucks Cloud forward, like he’s fucking Cloud onto Reno’s dick, and it’s just like that. Because Reno rocks his hips, matches Rude’s rhythm like the partners they are, and there Cloud is, spitroasted between them like he belongs there.
Never more than once, they told each other. Never more than once, but here Cloud is for the sixth or seventh time, and Reno already knows there’s gonna be an eighth. Cloud’s gonna show up again, looking all wet and pathetic and greedy, and Reno’s gonna haul him inside, shove his tongue down Cloud’s throat right before Rude drags them both off to bed.
It’s inevitable.
***
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Flash Fiction Fest 2023
Hello!!
Following the spirit of the TAI... and GCH rising to play a few shows this year -- we're hoping to also see a rise in fics featuring the past and present bands of Fueled by Ramen / Decaydance.
To help make that a reality - we've decided to throw a ficfest and are asking for your help in reviving this niche of bandom.
If there's continued interest - we'll host other fests in the future but we wanted to start with something small, simple, and hopefully accessible to more creatives in our community.
The "Rules"
Be 18 years or older to participate
The main pairing/focus of your fic must include at least one member or character from a past or present FBR/DCD band (for a list of artists you can click here) or verse (like 16 candles)
Any persons in an intimate/explicit relationship must be 18+ and unrelated
Fics can be any genre, AU, or format (you can write a high school AU but please keep it pg-13)
We're only asking to limit length between 1k - 5k for this first fest
You can submit more than one story - just please fill out the sign-up form for each one for tracking purposes
Use tags liberally and often on your story and your posts
If your story includes any of the following - tags for them are required: racism, ableism, homo- or transphobia, dub/non-con, mental health or substance misuse challenges, character death, bullying, homicidal or suicidal ideations, self-harm, graphic violence, sexual content, and/or abuse (child and domestic)
Any works found with the above not tagged properly will be removed from the collection - please help us help everyone else take care of themselves while engaging with the fics
Please please please do not tag or share content curated here with anyone in or associated with these bands
All fics will be posted on A03 as part of a collection so please have/create an account there as well
Schedule
Writer Sign-ups will be open from now until 9/1 via google forms *
Posting will begin 8/1 and go through 9/15 to allow time for others to join later or who may have a busy summer planned
*We'll delete emails after the fest and only use them for check-ins, reminders, and updates
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Marvel Noir Month: Cap-IM Universe Medley Fest
It's the 15th, so welcome to the next month of Cap-IM's Universe Medley fest!
You can create as many works as you like across as many different mediums as you like! This is a no-pressure, low commitment challenge to encourage you to try something new, stretch your creativity, and check out other versions of Steve and Tony.
For our full fest guidelines, including our annual schedule, please click here.
Coming up, Marvel Noir Month!
Marvel Noir is a comic series that came out in 2009/10 and featured a number of Marvel characters reimagined in a late 1920s and 1930s setting with film noir and pulp fiction influences. Think of 30s hard-boiled detective stories, a Steve and Tony dynamic like Nick and Nora from the Thin Man, or Indiana Jones.
We care only for Tony Stark, codename Byron Ironsides, a famous adventurer whose expeditions are chronicled in Marvels: A Magazine of Men's Adventure. Tony is still Iron Man, traveling the world in search of magical items and punching Nazis with distinctive armor. At the end of the comic run, having faced betrayal, a weak heart, and an evil Baron Zemo, Tony decides to focus on making the world safer as WWII approaches.
Although Steve doesn't exist (yet!) in the Noir universe, his pre-war life overlaps the era of Iron Man Noir. It's not hard to imagine Tony Stark meeting pre-serum Steve looking for work, or Iron Man joining Captain America to fight the Nazi and HYDRA menace. You can also make Steve's backstory entirely different—this is your chance to make Steve and Tony childhood friends, sworn enemies or reluctant allies without canon events to sway you!
Let your imagination soar, and have fun going noir stares broodingly into the distance.
WAYS TO PARTICIPATE
If you would like to earn a badge for Marvel Noir Month, you must submit your work before the end of 15th December.
UNIVERSE MEDLEY:
If you post a Stevetony work set in Marvel Noir in the next month, congratulations! Share it on a Cap-IM community platform, add it to the AO3 Collection and BAM! You've participated!
UNIVERSE THEMED PROMPT FEST:
Got inspiration? Fill out our prompt form to inspire creators! You can also come along and fill a prompt for the universe of the month, or two, or three… the sky's the limit! We have plenty of past prompt lists to browse through.
Don't forget to share your work with us, and post in the AO3 Collection!
RUN A MINI-CHALLENGE:
Love a universe with all your heart and have an idea for a flash challenge? Let's do it!
Get in touch with the mods to claim a month (or contact us on discord in the #universe-medley-challenges channel) and you can run it on cap_ironman's community platforms! The cap-im mods can also support you in setting up and/or modding the mini-challenge.
CLAIM YOUR PRIZE!
This is a fest encouraging fun exploration in various Marvel universes, and we'd like to invite you to share your milestones with us!
Badge Milestones
I created a work this month!
I created my very first work in this universe!
I created something for each of the 12 months!
I participated for the second year!
I hosted a mini-challenge!
I submitted a amnesty fanwork!
If you do any of the above this month, let us know by filling out our Prize Claims form. If you have any questions or comments, read our event guidelines, email us at [email protected], or get in touch on tumblr, on contact us on discord in the #universe-medley-challenges channel.
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Forbidden
Chapter 1
A/N- I've teased y'all for so long I hope this series is going to live up to expectations, I'm confident it will though because I'm addicted and it's been super easy for me to write - I'm up to chapter 3 so far so updates can be on time! There's a slight age gap between my professor Hemsy and OC Jess but she's twenty and completely legal. You know this is gunna be a giant tease fest for the first couple of chapters cos that sexual tension is fucking gold 🥵
Summary- Jess meets the man of her dreams and then stupidly leaves without getting his number. Will fate bring them together again?
Word count- 1.5 K
Pairing- Professor!Chris Hemsworth x OC
Warnings- Swearing, age gap
18+ only!
Disclaimer: This is an entire work of fiction/AU and has no affiliation to real life what so ever! This is a fictional story about fictional characters who happen to share names and faces with some real people.
Posted: 5th August 2021
Taglist:- @innerpaperexpertcloud @pandaxnienke
@chickensarentcheap
@jjpogueprincess
@longlostinanotherworld
@mostly-marvel-musings @darklydeliciousdesires
@monet-belle
@skyfullofsong123 @swaggysposts
Chapter 2
I pulled out a chair at the last available table in the unusually busy coffee shop, I thought I might've caught a break choosing the one outside of campus but alas I was wrong.
I was about to sit down when the chair opposite me slid out from under the table, my eyes lifted to meet with the most sparkly blue eyes i'd ever seen. The sight of him took my breath away. Literally.
I stood staring, frozen on the spot, my mouth slightly ajar as I looked him up and down. He was tall, so tall, definitely over 6ft and built like a dream. Thick thighs straining against his fitted trousers, wide muscular shoulders and I just knew there was a six-pack hiding behind that tight t-shirt.
"Sorry. You were here first, I'll just grab a take-out." He smirked a side smile, amused at how I was so obviously checking him out but his sexy Australian accent distracted you from anything else.
"It's fine, I'm on my own. I don't mind if you want to sit there too." I mentally face palmed myself, drawing attention to the fact I was alone wasn't the best idea but then again he was alone too. "I don't bite." I added trying my best to flirt.
It seemed to work, he smiled at me as he sat down and I took the time to admire his handsome face. He was quite clearly a lot older than me, the laughter lines around his eyes a tell tale sign but he was still quite possibly the best looking man I'd ever laid eyes on. His hair was fair and the short beard framed his face perfectly but the one thing that stood out the most were those piercing ocean-blue eyes.
"So do you come here often?" I cocked my eyebrow at him over my coffee cup making him laugh at my reaction. "Sorry, it's been a while." He said nervously, running his hand through his hair.
"It's been a while since you spoke to a stranger or…?" I questioned casually.
"It's been a while since I spoke to an attractive woman." He finished, his eyes sparkling as he watched me almost choke on my drink.
"Oh, I err…. I don't think you're doing too badly." I absentmindedly circled my finger around the rim of my cup, crossing my leg over my other and accidently rubbing my foot up his leg. My cheeks felt hot and flushed as I looked up into his eyes and saw him smiling slyly.
"Evidently. We're already playing footsie under the table." He smiled widely, a genuine smile that stretched the corners of his mouth. I smiled back at him shyly, thinking of something to say to change the subject before I ended up looking like a tomato.
"What part of Australia are you from?"
"I'm originally from Melbourne but I lived in Byron Bay before I came to America."
"Awesome. I've always wanted to go to Australia, the Spiders put me off though."
"Yeah I think they put most people off but in heavily populated areas they stay pretty much hidden, I think it's the size that scare people." How have I made this conversation go from flirting to talking about spiders? And how do I get back to flirting?
"Are we still talking about spiders?" I raised my eyebrows questioningly and laughed at the innuendo, flicking my hair over my shoulder. I noticed something in his eyes when I did so, a hunger, just a little flash and then it was gone again. I'm sure I didn't imagine it though because his eyes lingered on my exposed shoulders.
I checked my watch subtly, not wanting him to think he was boring me but I had to get to class and couldn't be late again, not when this semester had only just started.
"I'm really sorry, I'm gonna have to run, I'm going to be late. It was really nice meeting you." I gathered up my bags, ready to leave.
"Already? You've only just got here." He looked disappointed, his smile fading. His mouth opened as if he was going to say something else and then closed again when he saw I was ready to leave. "It was really nice to meet you too, hopefully I'll see you again." His eyes sparkled as he looked into mine, standing from his chair to get the door for me. I felt fireworks when his hand brushed against the small of my back and his face lingered close to mine. The tension was unreal, like we were the only people in the room as his eyes hungrily stared into my soul, undressing me with his eyes. My heart stopped beating when his face moved closer to mine so I could feel his breath on my lips, the smell of coffee and his aftershave filling my nostrils. I paused, my feet routed to the spot, I wanted him to kiss me so badly but I moved away at the last minute. Surely he wasn't actually going to kiss me, we'd only just met, that would be ridiculous. Wouldn't it?
********
I spent most of class daydreaming about my tall handsome stranger and the way he looked at me but most of all how I didn't even get his name. Or his number.
Now I was feeling sorry for myself because it would just be my luck to meet the man of my dreams and then never see him again. So I'd moped about all day and avoided the invitations for drinks after class. Instead I'd
gotten home early, changed into some sweats and settled myself in front of the TV for the night.
"What's up with your face?" My roommate, Ellie said as she walked into our room, throwing her bags onto her bed.
"What're you talking about?"
"Your face. Looks like you're chewing on a wasp."
"Feeling sorry for myself." I pout pathetically.
"Why, what've you done now?" She rolled her eyes, kicking off her shoes and throwing her legs up onto the bed. I felt so lucky to have a roommate like Ellie, during our freshman year she'd become my best friend practically straight away and now after two years together we were practically sisters.
I sat up in bed cross legged and faced Ellie, getting myself ready to spill my misfortunes of the day with her.
"Well, I went to Impresso's this morning to get my morning coffee before class." She nodded, showing her enthusiasm by also sitting cross legged on her own bed, facing me. "And it was packed full of students, there was only one table left. So I went to grab it as soon as I could." She raised her eyebrow at me, wondering where I was going with the story. "And I kid you not, the most attractive man I have ever seen, pulls out the chair opposite me."
"Oh my god! No way. Did you talk? Oh my god, this is like the perfect chick flick. Carry on." I smiled at her excitement.
"I told him I didn't mind if he sat there, I mean of course I didn't mind, you should've seen him El. Oh, oh, oh I almost forgot" I flapped my hands, bouncing on the spot. "He was fucking Australian."
"Fuck off, you're lying. Drop dead gorgeous with the sexiest accent ever. How is this even real? Now remind me why you're sat there with a face like a slapped arse?"
"I panicked when I had to leave, didn't want to be late for class and I didn't get his number, didn't even give him chance to ask for mine."
"Wow! Ok, now I understand. What were you thinking?"
"I wasn't thinking, I was panicking and you know what I'm like when I panic." You sulk.
"It's ok, maybe you'll bump into him again."
"Yeah, right. I should be so lucky."
"Cheer up." she says throwing a cushion at me. "There's a party at Alpha Kappa this weekend, I'm sure we can find you someone to help get over your mystery man. Or under should I say?" She raised her eyebrow at me, smiling slyly and making me laugh. She always did know how to cheer me up and maybe a party is what I needed.
There must be some good looking boys around campus that could make me forget about my Australian hunk. Surely? I thought about the guys I'd seen around campus, the guys I'd seen at frat parties and that's definitely not what I wanted. How could a twenty year old boy match to the masculine, experienced man I met this morning. My mind was set, I'd dipped my feet ever slightly into the mature pool and that's what I wanted more than anything. There was always something missing with previous boyfriends and I was tired of all the game playing. I wanted someone who knew what they wanted and wasn't afraid to get it.
The only thing was, he didn't know I was only twenty and I had no way of finding him again. If fate did bring us back together, would he mind that I was still a student? That I couldn't even drink when we went on dates?
Who am I kidding? Of course he would mind, he could get any woman he wanted, why would he want me?
#smut#chris hemsworth#chris hemsworth fanfic#chris hemsworth smut#chris hemsworth x reader#chris hemsworth x you#chris Hemsworth series#chris Hemsworth X oc#mcu rpf
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HERE ARE THE WRITING PROMPTS FOR PRIDE MONTH FEST!
Whether it's a haiku, a string of poetry, or flash fiction, feel free to share your story if you wish to pen your pride! Don't forget to use the #PrideMonthFest and #PrideWriteathon tags when you post your works or announce your participation!
First Kiss
Write a story that features a first kiss! Whether it’s the starting point of a journey of self-discovery, or the confirmation a character needed concerning their sexuality!
Coming Out
Write about a character talking openly about their sexuality to parents, friends or a significant other!
Gender Euphoria
It’s not everyday we see queer characters (especially trans and nonbinary ones) content and satisfied with their self-image and gender identity. That’s why this prompt is to write a story about a character who is overwhelming joyous about themselves and how they’re viewed by others!
~~ Follow the embedded link below to read the rest of this post!
#queer#queer pride#queer reads#writingcommunity#writers#writing prompt#lgbtq#sapphic#wlw#asexuality#lgbt prompts#pride flag#pride month#pride parade#first kiss#coming out#bisexuality#lgbtq positivity#writeathon#writblr#creative writing#writers on wordpress#writeblogging#blogger#writing blog#gender identity#gender euphoria#poetry#writing on tumblr#PrideMonthFest
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Crownhill Academy: intro | SKZ
◤“This year can’t get any worse, could it?”
When their world begins to fall apart, third year students find themselves forced to overcome their rivalries to save the people they love. But there is more to a fairy tale than a happy ever after, and some truths are better not spoken.
◤Disclaimers: Female reader insert. This is an ot8 fic, including one couple and several friendship arcs. Fairy tale descendants au. Almost modern fantasy, except that everything is run by magic. A decent mix of fluff and angst. May include themes of violence and murder. Please view the Student Handbook and read this blurb before proceeding to avoid confusion!
◤Word count: 0.8k
◤Note: This idea is a 100% mine and any case of similarity with someone else’s is purely coincidental. Events are pure fiction. Please do not take my content without my consent. masterlist.
◤This series is dedicated to the one and only, @wingkkun ♡
| intro | 1 | 2 | 3 |
Jisung was relieved when he found your bag stuck in the leafy branches of an old tree, so much that he didn’t notice the ‘do not cross’ sign planted in the ground.
He floated toward the tree, and when the bag didn’t budge with his efforts to pull it out, he threw a handful of fairy dust over it.
The magical substance did its job perfectly, and Jisung was able to free the bag from the tree’s clutches with ease. But amid his success, he failed to notice the bits of fairy dust that feathered into a hole in the ground. It was closed with metal bars, and no one had been near it in decades.
No one but Jisung and his fairy dust.
[TWO WEEKS LATER]
“Y/n! Chan!”
The two of you halted in your steps, filled food trays in hand, when you heard your names being called. You could almost hear Chan grumble a mental complaint.
You slapped on a polite smile when the student journalist came to stand before you enthusiastically. She quickly flipped to an empty page of her notebook and you didn’t have to guess to know what was coming next.
“If you don’t mind telling us, will we be seeing the two of you in this year’s Crystal Ball?”
You and Chan exchanged an awkward glance. It seemed as though everyone in the academy was persistent on the notion that the two of you were a couple. You couldn’t envision Chan courting you, but that appeared to be the student newsletter’s biggest headline.
Sighing, you answered her, “Maybe.”
“Alright, thank you for your time!” she grinned as if she’d scored the best headline before scurrying away to find her next interviewee. You watched her with a shake of your head. School journalists were unbelievable.
“Maybe?” Chan raised an eyebrow and you shrugged. “We’ll be attending, no? Just not together.”
You missed the dejection in his tone. “Right.”
Hurrying to sit down before another curious student stops you, the two of you headed toward your regular table. Most of your friends were seated already and enjoying their lunch when you arrived. Hyunjin, in particular, was busy ranting about what you assumed was the academy’s equestrian team. “It’s not fair! I can’t help my merits.”
“What is it?” you asked as you set your tray down next to Minho’s. Chan took the seat beside you.
Hyunjin crossed his arms as a childish pout found a place on his lips. “I’m not allowed to race in the Swan Fest until I fix my academics and conduct.”
You chuckled, “It’s about time you did.”
“You’re mean.”
“And you’re dramatic,” Changbin interjected with an eye roll. “At least you weren’t paired up with a certain freckled Rarity for Surviving the Tale.”
“Felix?” you had to arch an eyebrow, and when Changbin nodded, you asked, “How was it?”
“Terrible.”
You were all aware of the sentiments Changbin had for Goldilocks’ descendant. For once upon a time, the two were the best of friends. Until it all changed two years ago, after a disastrous walk into the woods.
You felt bad for your friend. “Can’t you ask to change partners?”
“No,” Changbin answered after swallowing a mouthful of apple pie. “This year’s a nightmare already, and we’re only two weeks in.”
“Now, now, don’t be insufferable,” Chan said. “It’s our third year. It’s going to be the best year of our lives.”
“Sure,” Hyunjin dragged the word, clearly dubious. If he’d wanted to say more, he forgot it when Jeongin came around, flaunting light pink hair. A scandalous gasp left his lips, “What happened to your hair?”
“Chaeryeong happened,” the boy answered sheepishly as he set his tray down. You caught Minho’s eyes flash purple after the tray, but you didn’t comment on it. “Turns out agreeing to test a new spell isn’t the smartest thing to do.”
“Well, the color suits you,” Changbin remarked, which received murmurs of agreement from around the table.
“You think so?” Jeongin raised a brow.
“Yes, you look cute,” Hyunjin cooed jokingly, to which the former deadpanned, unamused, “Thanks.”
“You’re welcome.”
A faint chuckle left your lips at their antics. This year might’ve not had the best start, but as long as you had your friends, you thought that would be enough.
A commotion coming from a nearby table caught your attention and you turned in your seat to see what the ruckus was about. It was a Wonders table, you noted when you spotted Seungmin and Lia sitting there, and Yuna running toward them.
The junior Mad Hatter stopped before her friends, eyes wide and curious as she exclaimed, “Friends! You would not believe what happened!”
You were sure the entire dining hall halted when the strange news fell from her lips in a rush. “Professor Pinocchio turned back into a puppet!”
| intro | 1 | 2 | 3 |
If you have read this far then you are contractually obligated to tell me your thoughts! Well, not really, but do drop by sometime! Thank you for reading and I hope you have a great day! ♡
#stray kids#stray kids imagines#stray kids scenarios#stray kids school au#skzwritersclub#bang chan#lee minho#seo changbin#hwang hyunjin#han jisung#lee felix#kim seungmin#yang jeongin#skz#source: -Kyutips chaninfused#crownhill academy#time to go work on dm :P
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Fantasy Fest Series: Demon of Mine || Bu Fan [Demon!AU]
Credit to @buyuefan for the gif, which sparked inspiration for this fic!
Title: Demon of Mine
Pairing: Reader x Bufan
Genre: Witch!AU + Demon!AU + fluff
Word Count: 2,202 words
Summary: Magic can be tricky, especially when you accidentally summon a demon into your home.
A/N: My first fic in the Fantasy Fest series! At the time of me writing up this fic, demon!au is currently in the lead in the poll. Who else better to play the role of a demon that Bufan himself? Also, a disclaimer: everything is pretty much more or less fictional. I made up a few things as far as summoning demons go and I also didn’t want anyone to get any ideas, lol. Everything is under the cut because this is the longest fic i’ve ever written I think, oof. Enjoy demon!Bufan!
Warning: mild cursing, brief mention of blood
ya’ll asked for demon!au
so i gotchu boo
you come from a family of witches
magic has ran through your family blood line for generations, dating back to the early 1400s
contrary to popular belief, your family did not practice black magic or served the Devil
instead your family used magical skills in order to heal others, even opening an apothecary as a family business
all throughout your life, you loved learning about the functions of different types of herbs and ingredients and using that knowledge to create all types of potions and concoctions
you also had an affinity for spell-casting and charms
every so often, your parents would go on business trips and travel across realms, bringing back new knowledge of spells and potions that you had never heard of
sometimes they were gone for months or, rarely, a year
it did feel strange being on your own for long periods of time, but you grew accustomed to it
it also meant you were left in charge of running the apothecary, which you were all too eager for
as you flipped to a page in one of your many ancient potion-books to find the cure for nightshade rash for one of your clients, you scanned the ingredient list and saw that one of the ingredients was virtually illegible due to the fact that the ink was rubbed away over time
“damn. how am I supposed to make this potion now?” you sighed. “guess i’ll have to ask grandma.”
after closing up the shop so that no customers wandered in, you headed to the back room. shelves lined the walls and were filled with all sorts of magical ingredients, all neatly organized according to their use. the soft sound of the fire crackling under the fireplace and the bubbling of the cauldron hanging above it filled the room. books and papers written in latin littered the tables and floor messily, the aftermath of your charms studying session from earlier
with a flick of your wrist, the books and papers levitated and swirled in the air for a moment before tidying themselves into organized stacks. another flick of your wrist, everything including the furniture moved on their own and cleared the center of the floor
“hm... what was the spell that mom used?” you said to yourself.
you had never summoned your deceased grandmother before, let alone any spirit for that matter. usually it was your mother who did the spirit contacting
looking through a spell book, you stopped at one particular spell and figured this was what you were looking for
how to summon a loved one
according to the spell, all you had to do was draw a magic circle, provide a drop of blood and say a simple incantation. the circle will automatically summon the one you love, which you figured was your grandmother in this case
sounds easy enough
oh boy were you in for a surprise
you carefully used a piece of white chalk to carefully replicate the image of a large summoning circle, carefully sketching intricate patterns as you go. facing the fireplace, you slowly inhaled and exhaled, a stream of wind leaving your mouth and extinguishing the flames, turning the room almost pitch black. with that said, you lit a few candles around the circle. gently running your index finger over the other, a small incision appeared. tilting your finger, you let a drop of blood fall into the circle. it was time to start the ritual.
closing your eyes, you channeled all of your energy to your core and began reciting the spell incantation. feeling the magic run through your veins, you felt the air pick up and stir around you, creating a vortex at the center of the circle. shadows danced along the walls to the sound of your chanting that grew in volume with each repetition. the once tiny golden flames were now a roaring, brilliant amethyst.
your words came to a halt as you finished reciting the spell. the room around you also fell into a complete silence. opening your eyes, you were prepared to greet the spirit of your grandmother
except it wasn’t a spirit
hell (no pun intended) it wasn’t even your grandmother
floating in a fog of purple smoke above the summoning circle was a massive male figure around 6′3′’. his hair was a blood crimson, mirroring his glowing eyes beneath his closed lids. aside from wearing slightly loose black pants and a long trench coat, he was completely shirtless
(you were lowkey checking out his abs ooh la la)
but what caught you the most off guard was the lilac tint of his skin, the onyx curled horns above his head, deadly talons instead of fingernails, and the powerful presence of obsidian wings that were tattered and torn at the edges and looked at least twice your size
“oh shit i just summoned a demon”
at the sound of your voice, the demon’s eyes snapped open and glared at you with what you believe was murderous intent
fuck
you were going to die tonight
you were a healer, not a fighter rip you
just as the demon made a move to step out of circle, the spell broke. the magic that kept him afloat disappeared in a flash
causing him to plant face first onto your wooden floor
“....pfffft-”
you knew you probably shouldn’t have found the idea of a potentially dangerous demon in your home funny, but you couldn’t stopped laughing at how someone so scary looking could be so clumsy
meanwhile the demon only winced in pain as he stood back up and rubbed his face before shooting you a look of disbelief
most people would faint, pee their pants, cry, or at least scream in fear at the sight of him
but here you are laughing at him
who tf were you?
“are you done?” he deadpanned after watching you laugh at him for three minutes straight
wiping away a stray tear, you barely managed to settle down and responded, “y-yeah i think i’m good. are you?”
“peachy”
you felt the need to laugh again... until you realized that the spell you used was meant to summon:
a loved one
and it summoned this random demon
wtf was that supposed to mean
“wait, who the hell are you?” you interrogated
“my name is bufan. i’m a formidable demon of the Underworld!” his loud, deep ass voice boomed before leaning down his height to make eye contact with you
you felt your heart flutter a bit at how close he was
“that’s uh... nice...”
“just... nice....?”
“yeah....”
awkward silence
“so who are you and why did you summon me?” bufan questioned, raising a dark eyebrow at you
“oh! i’m (y/n). i kind of summoned you by accident,” you sheepishly admitted
“how do you accidentally summon a demon?”
“how do you accidentally trip and fall while getting summoned?”
“....”
damn you got him there
“anyway,” you coughed, “all i wanted to do was summon the spirit of my dead grandmother, not a demon. i’m not even sure why the spell summoned you in the first place. not to be rude or anything but can you go back to where you came from? I'm really busy and need to talk to my grandmother so i can start this cure already”
"i can't unless you give me your first born child"
“....say what now”
you gaped at his serious poker face before slowly watching it contort into a shit-eating grin. then he broke into a boisterous laughing fit that shook the whole room with its intensity
you pouted when you realized he was pulling your leg. “this is payback for earlier, isn’t it?”
he calmed himself down to a few chuckles, “i was just trying to break the ice. it’s not every day i get summoned to a cute little witch’s home”
you nearly forgot how much of a smooth talker demons were
blood rushed to your cheeks at his words
definitely not because he called you cute
(it definitely is)
“but i’m telling the truth when i say i can’t exactly go back. that’s not how this spell works. i’m already bounded to you by blood”
you wondered what he meant by ‘not how the spell works’
“the spell book doesn’t say anything about it either,” you sighed. “i guess that means you’re stuck with me for the time being- hey! be careful with that!”
you snatched a bottle of naga venom from bufan who already was snooping around at all of the magical ingredients and things around him
“you’re awfully calm. aren't you afraid i'll take your soul or something?" he says
"bold of you to assume I have a soul"
you were joking of course and he, being a demon, could sense that you indeed did have a soul and grinned at you
“just... try and behave yourself, ok?”
“i’ll be on my best behavior”
bufan was not on his best behavior
you should have known never to trust a demon smh
having bufan around was like taking care of three year old child
he’s constantly asking you questions every time you’re trying to make potions and just genuinely trying to annoy you
“(y/n), what’s that?”
“dragon’s breath”
“and that?”
“alicorn tears”
“this empty jar says teeth. who’s teeth?”
“it’s about to be yours in a second after i punch you in the jaw if you don’t stfu”
“are all you humans so snippy?”
“oh my god”
“more like oh my lucifer amirite”
you were a unicorn’s hair away from hexing him jfc
for someone so big, he was also extremely sneaky and sly
he’s always trying to play pranks on you and using his powers to his advantage
such as using his invisibility to randomly pop in front of you or poke your sides or face when you were doing something
or hiding your phone and other necessities all over the house and sending you on an entire scavenger hunt
despite his childish tendencies, bufan was also quite reliable
for some reason, he grew to be protective of you although he knew you could protect yourself with your own powers
whenever you traveled home alone at night, he insisted on flying you home on his broad back
which you secretly loved bc flying with bufan was always fun since he would always make it feel like a roller coaster ride by flying in loops and various speeds
there were times where bufan even acted like a mother figure which was both intriguing and terrifying
“(y/n), did you eat yet?”
“no i don’t have any time to-”
*proceeds to make eight different types of meals for you*
in addition, he always had liver medicine on hand and you have no idea how or why???
whenever you were having a bad day, he never hesitated to listen to your problems even if they didn’t apply to him as a demon
over the next few months of bufan living with you, your once quiet and uneventful home was now constantly filled with laughter, annoyed yells, and bustle. you found yourself noticeably happier
but a part of you always wondered if your happiness was only one sided
“bufan,” you called out to him one day while fiddling with your wand
he made a grunting sound from the couch that was situated a few feet from you, indicating that he heard you and was listening
“do you regret being summoned by me?” you nervously asked
no answer
feeling your heart drop when he failed to respond, you assumed the worse and laughed quietly to hide the sadness in your heart
“it’s okay if you do. i wont hold it against you,” you nodded timidly
hearing his footsteps approach you, you faintly remember hearing your wand drop onto the floor before he pulled you close to him
you’ve never felt so tiny oml
“what makes you think i regret being here?” he questioned, clearly confused as to why you were suddenly bringing this up
you shrugged, “i don’t know... i mean, you were kind of forced to. do you miss being on your own?”
“do you?”
it took you a moment to quietly reply, “i’ve gotten used to feeling alone, so if you wanted to leave, i would let you”
bufan could hear the loneliness that lingered at the edge of your words. little did you know, he already knew how much you meant to him from the very first day he met you. there was no way it was an accident. he pulled you tighter to him before kissing the top of your head
“silly little witch. who says i’m going anywhere?”
you tilted your head up at him in surprise, “you’re saying that if you had the chance to leave, you wouldn’t take it?”
“you couldn’t get rid of me even if you wanted to”
and you swear that that was the moment you knew you had fallen for a demon
maybe performing that spell wasn’t a mistake after all
perhaps the universe knew that bufan was meant to be your loved one
because there was no better feeling than always coming home to a certain demon of yours
#idol producer#idol producer imagines#idol producer scenarios#idol producer writing#oner#oner imagines#oner scenarios#oner bufan#bu fan#bu fan imagine#bu fan scenario#bufan#bufan scenario#bufan imagine#qin#bc221#91%#91% scenarios#91% imagines#cpop#cpop imagines#cpop scenarios
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Creative Challenges August 2018
31 Days 31 Plays
This is an annual creative challenge to write 31 plays (of at least 1 page each) in the month of August.
Official website: 31plays31days.com
ArtSlam
This is an art challenge running every year from June 1st to August 31st. You can take part in one, two, or three months.
What? Draw something every day to a topic you chose yourself.
Where, how to take part: Sign up at Livejournal or Dreamwidth. There is a Tumblr, too.
August AdiPOSE
This is an art challenge running annually from August 1st to 31st
What's the challenge? Draw fat people, ideally one per day
Where/How to take part: Post anywhere, using the tag “AugustAdiPOSE”
Fawngust
This is an art challenge running annually from August 1st to 31st
What's the challende? Draw fawns and other forest animals, ideally one per day
Where/How to take part: Post anywhere, using the tag “fawngust”
Smaugust
This is an art challenge running annually from August 1st to 31st
What's the challende? Draw dragons, ideally one per day
Where/How to take part: Post anywhere, using the tag “smaugust”
Monthly challenges
Deviantart Colour Schemes Challenge
This is a monthly art challenge. In a community on DeviantArt, a colour palette is posted, and you have time until the end of the month to create an image using that palette.
More information at www.deviantart.com/colour-schemes
EMG Sketch Fest
This is a roughly monthly art jam running in 24 Aug at 12:00 to 26 Aug at 12:00 Alaskan time. There is a focus on fantasy themes.
What's the deal? You can leave prompts for other people to use, and/or draw sketches based on other people's prompts. You may not spend more than 1 hour per sketch. (Finishing it later is cool, though.)
Where, how to take part: Sign up on the official website, www.ellenmilliongraphics.com/sketchfest/
WritingChallenge.org
This is a writing challenge running each month.
What's the challenge? Write at least 500 words each day.
Where, how to take part: Post on Twitter with the monthly changing tag, and insert your progress in a communal spreadsheet. More info at writingchallenge.org
Weekly challenges
Illustration Friday
This is an art challenge running weekly.
What? Create an image based on the weekly theme posted on the official website on Friday
Where, how to take part: Post the image to your own gallery, submit a link at illustrationfriday.com
Thimbleful Thursday
This is a weekly flash fiction writing challenge.
What's the challenge? Every Thursday an idiom and a target wordcount is posted for people to write a piece of flash fiction.
Where, how to take part: Prompts are posted at thimblefulthursday.wordpress.com, and posting links to your prompt fills in the comments there is appreciated.
You can find other creative challenges I know about on my website through the Creative Challenges Tag Tree
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The Weeknd?
ivy: every angel is terrifying ("provocative, edgy, thought-provoking/technically and visually stunning/a compelling work of science fiction/a suspenseful exposé/cinema like you've never seen it before/the exotic, bizarre and beautiful world of "after life"/and this is your invitation to enter/critics say "after life" makes your current life look like a total comatose snooze fest/it's action-packed/the future of everyone's fate")
meredith: die for you ("you know what I'm thinkin', see it in your eyes/you hate that you want me, hate it when you cry/it ain't workin' 'cause you're perfect/and I know that you're worth it/I can't walk away, oh")
diana: in your eyes ("hate the way I feel love/only hurts with real love/and it's taking every part of me/when you look, I could see love/one day, I'm giving you space/and the next day, you're giving me faces/and I like parties, not this place")
alassie: too late ("bad thoughts inside my mind/when the darkness comes, you're my light, baby/my light, baby, my light when it's dark, yeah/I'm too high, baby, too high, baby/'cause I know right now, that I lost it (hey)/it's way too late to save our souls, baby (oh, oh, yeah)/it's way too late, we're on our own (baby, on my own)/I made mistakes, I did you wrong, baby (oh, oh, yeah)/it's way too late to save my/I can't trust (I can't trust) where I live (where I live)/anymore (anymore, anymore, anymore)/sources say that we're done, how would they know?/we're in hell, it's disguised as a paradise with flashing lights/I just wanna believe there's so much more (hey, woo, hey, woo, hey)")
ramona: nothing without you ("don't stop your lovin', it's all I have/'cause I can't function, no I won't last/I swear I'll love you just like the past/'cause I know what's pain, this is not the same")
rhea: alone again ("take off my disguise/I'm living someone else's life/suppressing who I was inside/so I throw two-thousand ones in the sky/together we're alone (together we're alone)/in vegas I feel so at home (in vegas I feel so at home)/falling only for the night/so I throw two-thousand ones in the sky (the sky)/how, how much to light up my star again/and rewire all my thoughts?/oh baby, won't you remind me what I am?/and break, break my little cold heart")
cornelia: sacrifice ("I was born in a city/where the winter nights don't ever sleep/so this life's always with me/the ice inside my veins will never bleed")
kaden: less than zero ("'cause I can't get it out of my head/no, I can't shake this feeling that crawls in my bed/I try to hide it, but I know you know me/I try to fight it, but I'd rather be free/oh/oh yeah/can we meet in the middle?/oh yeah/'cause you were just like me before/now you'd rather leavе me/than to watch me die in your arms, oh")
andreia: gasoline ("it's 5am, I'm nihilist/I know therе's nothing after this (after this)/obsessing over aftermaths/apocalypse and hopelessness (hopelessness)/the only thing I understand/is zero sum of tenderness (tenderness)/oh, baby, please, just hold me close/make me believe there's more to live")
suzy: hurt you ("and now I know relationship's my enemy/so stay away from me/I'm warning you/you try to fill the void with every man you meet/'cause you're upset with me/I'm warning you")
samuel: missed you ("but I can't hold you responsible for the things I do/I said your name by mistake/played it off like I'm just confused/but I was frontin', lyin' to myself/when I know the truth/was I missed you/yes, it's true/I should've known not to let you go/let you go/'cause I missed you")
bianca: escape from la ("you pillow talk to me about the men who try to get in between us/they buy you bags and jewelry, yeah/they think your kindness is so weak/know you don't give it up so easy, baby/but you just wanted my attention/you just wanted my affection/you got me tattooed on your mind/you just want me all the time/we'll figure out our shit and find a way (oh, yeah)")
archibald: how do I make you love me? ("I can see the real you, girl/you don't have to hide/forget 'bout what your daddy said/I'll teach you how to shine/and all the things you tolerated/made you cold inside/but I can light you up again/like embers of a fire/it doesn't faze you/I need a breakthrough/I only want what's right in front of me/it's quite unusual/seekin' approval/beggin' for it desperately")
raphael: final lullaby ("I'm running out of time/and you'll always be on my mind/and I can't make you stay/in this broken place/and I hope you find peace/close your eyes as I put us to sleep")
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Red Brick Door - A Fiction
by Dana Jerman
“These were my people, but I was not theirs. Their clammed unhappy world was my world, and it terrified me.” – Dale Gunthorp (from Gypsophilia)
Her face was constantly consumed in a grin that lent her an emotionally invincibility. Somehow, no one could piss her off. In high school, a time when the rest of us were doing nothing but being pubescent and grumpy and frowning, embracing its toughness, its indifference- she was busy being engaged in a teeth-flash fest all day long. Even in class when concentrating her closed lips were upturned at the corners. She endured taunts with laughs that only brightened her face, because she was beautiful, although it was easy to make fun of her. Those who would blow off steam on others knew they could go to her because she wasn’t going to get all huffy and turn their friends on them later. I only saw her get mad once and it was all in her eyes and brows. Her mouth remained open and perky. Tall, brown eyes. A high voice that danced around you with singsong qualities. Never had a boyfriend and walked with a tall briskness that defined direction. Ashley.
I was graduating a class ahead, so during my sophomore year, she showed up for her first at the same city university. I suppose it wasn’t a day, as in a defined 24 hours, that the temper in her smile changed, dissolved. It was a pretty subtle process dragging for weeks, insidious. I still feel as if I should have guessed that something like it would happen. That her mouth would get tired.
I’d run into her on campus at a random juncture and was startled into an indignant curiosity not to find that brazen show of oral cavity on display. Upon trying to engage her in that familiar shining smile her bottom lip would barely twitch in a gesture akin to a muscle spasm and she would breeze past like the embodiment of the cold shoulder. All that wattage was burning right out.
I spied her in a study carol at the library one day, her head buried in a few open texts at a time and writing diligently. I’d never had the opportunity to study her physically before beyond the smile and for a minute I thought she was someone else. Older. With her hair up in a bun on her head, it was plain to see the words “Red Brick Door” tattooed simply on the pale flesh of her neck. Struck by a bewildering force, I stood in amazement. Once glee-filled oozing endorphins this girl was now shrouded in an enigmatic cloud that rebuilt her. I recalled the furiousness of her pen as it moved across a near full sheet of notebook paper. It was probably at this time that I felt I could have changed things, like everyone believes in their individual power to affect a situation and pivot history.
//
Much later amongst old friends at a house party with drinks in hand, I observed an old comrade feed her new significant other hummus for the first time as they sat around a long table. Watching, smirking, until my ears burned as a few seated around the television in the next room began to call the name Ashley White in casual speaking. I moved in to eavesdrop.
“You heard about all this, right? Do you remember the tall blonde from the 1991 class? She acted kind of scatterbrained?” The question.
“Yeah, somebody mentioned something to me a few days ago. Isn’t she, like, dead now, er something?” The remark.
“No, no, she’s been incarcerated for murdering members of an all-girl gang. Like, thirteen of them are dead. Amazing. She has yet to go to trial, but I guess she was part of the gang, the “brick house” or something.”
They nodded in understanding and went back to drinking and watching the news, full of superficially covered street crime and commercials. I felt flush with anger for hearing this report second hand and of all places at a party. It made me consider the largeness of the city, the impersonality. Ashley’s smile was like a beacon of pure light, accompanied by those wild brown eyes. In my memory again this time like a force changed- a sense of history and balance now altogether flawed, astray. Who could have guessed how much she really needed from a community that continually denied her?
I left the party. Seized with a sensation ineffable, existential. Before realizing it I was seated at home with a pen in one hand, writing a letter to Ashley. I asked questions and made statements. She returned my post after a few months with this:
"Look, it’s hard for me to write in here. I’m not comfortable with how mail is handled and scrutinized. My general ability to be mobile in this ward is continually limited. To be blunt, I’m getting used to things. Deep thanks for writing to me. Explanations will follow if you wish to communicate further by making your presence known on an allotted visitation date. Until then, with hope and liberation – Ashley."
And so I went. There is a belief that places only really exist between when you come and when you leave. Everyday for the rest of my life that penitentiary and things said there will blaze on in the back of my brain like an ache impervious to aspirin.
//
Max security. The walls gray and pea green and orange, reminding me of middle school– stale, injected with a numbing agent, a tranquilizing drug that made my insides feel like mildew. The rhythm of thick doors slamming around me gave a claustrophobic feel to each room I was escorted through. The plexiglas window had a stainless steel circular screen in its middle. We would be speaking through a bathtub drain. Two women down on the end were engaged with inmates I couldn’t see. The feeling of encouraged separation, isolation, of total warranted domination by a system sat on my shoulders like puttied guilt. Then the door buzzed and a blue light came on across from me, through the glass.
Her hair was cut very short. Her eyes only sunken a little, she smiled when she spied me with her mouth and nothing more. She wore loose fitting grey scrub-type pants and black moccasin slipper sandals that made her feet look too small. A yellowish shirt. Her hands, the deft fingers lithe with clean, short nails, cuffed in front- a death-row Christ. As she sat, I smiled to return her grin but no words would come out.
“I’ve been excited at the thought of your coming.” In the opening confession her voice was a warm rasp like high grain sandpaper. I thought about her sitting at her typewriter (it was a typewritten note she had sent to me not so long ago), not speaking for days on end as she wrote, her diligent pain pouring out onto sheet after thin sheet – easily ripped and discarded, the dry ink smeared on the edges from the tips of tongued-wet curious fingers. I knew I was crouching in my seat and felt like a tree stump that never got any sun from its place on the back of a hillside. I sat up. I wanted to be candid and open, but asking again the questions I’d posed in my letter seemed trite. I almost forgot the woman was a murderer. It made me sick for a split second to feel safe behind the glass. I didn’t want safety.
“Ashley, I owe you an apology.” I cleared my throat, “I’m here for selfish reasons- I only want to listen.” I couldn’t move a muscle under her wily eyes that might have wanted my voice more than her own. Her smile, like glimpsing her naked, stayed as her eyes dropped away.
“Hmm. You’re probably interested in all the minor bullshit my lawyer would advise me against sharing. But hey, you’re the first to visit me, you know? People are too busy worrying about what I have become and what I’ll look like if they do finally get around to visiting me. Anyway, it won’t matter for much longer, someone’s pulling my number. Women survived my injustice and I don’t want to be a part of that world. If there is a need to say it, life with them became more about hard-line assertion. Vengeance.” She seemed eager to launch into philosophy, regardless of my understanding. A guard moved over to light the cigarette that appeared between her lips.
“Life with the affiliated clan, you know success became less about presenting situations and initiating challenges to one another. Less about liberation and embracing the “necessity to freedom” that for so long we nailed ourselves to in credo. RBD to us represents the entrance to our minds. We have the power to bulwark our consciousness and keep ourselves and what we need in, while the rest stays out. Reducing our wants through sisterhood. That’s why when you come in, you don’t leave.”
The look on her face suddenly weakened. She reached back with both cuffed hands in a motion to loosen her neck muscles. I thought again of the tattoo there. A reminder and announcement, an enunciation.
“There were two women- partners, central to the group. Had just adopted a baby girl. Before too long one of them was being neglectful. Turns out she was abusing her position by seducing a woman from another organization. One night the other woman came and tried to take their child. The innocent lover discovered that the guilty one had encouraged this woman to kidnap their baby, and she went off. She used those within and solicited other alliances to start a war. It’s always easy to find an enemy if you want one.
For me, it’s a case of “right time, wrong revolution.” My attempts at destroying what I believed was a stagnant, poorly executed terrorist movement landed me here, because even if I wasn’t the punisher first, someone has to be punished. I was devoted to a localized uprising that had to die before it fell into the oppressive trap of mainstream power by associating with the wrong ideas, the wrong classes. But my struggle isn’t new.
I think about the women I chose to assassinate and admitted to slaying in court not but two weeks ago – in front of mothers and fathers and husbands and children and friends. I have three months to live because I called these women to my apartment one afternoon- just picked up the phone like it should be done. I’m not insane. I feel pain when I think of them. I think of what we did as a family. Little moments of peace.” She dropped the cigarette under her slipper and leaned back.
“A handful of us worked at the sugar plant near the east side. The sunset at the horizon point there reflected on this huge set of sheet glass windows on the rooftop– it made everything warm. I felt a balance when I went there, like I was standing on the equator. Like South America. Have you ever been there? We were beginning to plan a trip to Argentina before things…”
She paused with a sigh under closed eyes.
“I fought for a freedom and that’s exactly what it cost me. Hard to face that I was a part of them, yes, but more a part of this… future that ironically I no longer have?”
Taciturn, I waited for her to answer her own question. Then her smile, that shining light, possessed of a kind of sheer magnetic power, returned briefly at the buzzer before she rose and left. She melted back into the cell of my memory now reconstructed from conflicting histories and righteous agendas. Of course I never saw her alive again, so she remains very much trapped there, in-between but whole, smiling.
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AFI Fest 2020 Features Some of the Year’s Best Films
https://ift.tt/2RPN4hK
This year, like just about every other film festival that managed to put on some kind of show in 2020, the 34th annual AFI Fest went nearly all-virtual. The yearly American Film Institute event, which usually combines major studio and independent releases, bypassed its usual eight-day blitz at the famous TCL Chinese Theatre complex in Hollywood for an online simulacrum that did not perhaps offer up the same glittering premieres and major studio contenders as in past years, but still managed to offer up a number of superb offerings.
“Attending” a film festival from one’s desk or couch can be a tricky proposition, so it remains to be seen how successful AFI Fest was overall with paying audiences (screenings were ticketed for the public). But as with other such events we’ve experienced this year, like Fantasia, the technical aspects were flawless and the ease of use and screening windows made the event largely stress-free. And we saw some truly extraordinary films, some premiering for the first time, and others coming from other festivals we missed. Check them all out below.
Anthony Hopkins and Riz Ahmed Lead Parade of Talent at AFI Fest
The Father
The best film we saw at AFI Fest was The Father, director and screenwriter Florian Zeller’s adaptation of his own stage play. Anthony Hopkins stars as Anthony, an elderly English man who is suffering from the onset of dementia. Olivia Colman is his daughter Anne, who is planning a move to Paris to live with her partner and is desperately trying to find a new caregiver for her father after he scared off the last one.
But as the film goes on, the viewer begins to wonder what is actually happening? People drift in and out of the narrative under different names, Anthony’s spacious apartment seems to change around him, and time itself seems to bend. Then we realize: we are seeing almost all the events from his point-of-view, which means that none of what we see can truly be trusted–making what could have been a conventional drama about illness and memory into something brilliant.
That realization, coupled with absolutely heartbreaking work from Hopkins and Colman, makes The Father a devastating look at a slow-motion nightmare from which there is no escape. Anthony (the character) is at once recognizable as a certain kind of man (and as such is both charming and mean-spirited), and the legendary actor (we swear we saw a flash of Hannibal Lecter in there at one point), makes his long, slow descent into an unmoored new reality even more profound. A nearly perfect film. (5 Stars)
Sound of Metal
Just as The Father brings us inside the world of someone in the grip of dementia, Sound of Metal gives us an up close look at what it feels like to suddenly go deaf. Riz Ahmed is excellent as Ruben, a recovering drug addict who drums in a heavy metal duo alongside his girlfriend, singer/guitarist Lou (Olivia Cooke). The two tour the indie rock circuit in a beat-up but cozy RV that also serves as their home. However, their gypsy lifestyle is upended when Ruben abruptly loses his hearing.
Director Darius Marder (who co-wrote the script with Abraham Marder) does not give into sentimentality, even as Ruben moves through grief, loss, denial, anger and self-pity, all the while clinging to the possibility that he may find a surgical way to restore his hearing. His journey also takes him to a home for deaf people in recovery (headed up by the marvelous Paul Raci, whose own life story involving deafness is remarkable), and eventually opens his heart and mind–at least a little–to the understanding that he can still live a fulfilling life. The excellent sound design is the final touch on a captivating and highly original story. (4 Stars)
Nine Days
Winston Duke (Black Panther), Zazie Beetz (Deadpool 2), and Benedict Wong (Doctor Strange) star in this striking directorial debut from Edson Oda, who also wrote the script. Duke, one of our favorite up-and-coming actors, plays Will, an enigmatic being who once lived on Earth as a human and now decides which souls get their chance to proceed to do the same. When a slot becomes available due to an unexpected death, Will and his colleague Kyo (Wong) welcome five new applicants to their way station, one of whom (Beetz) challenges Will’s method of selecting a new soul.
Based on the concept alone, Nine Days would make an interesting double feature with Pixar’s upcoming Soul. The film touches on a number of sophisticated ideas about what defines humanity and what it means to live, doing so in a compelling and deeply moving way. Duke, Wong and Beetz are all excellent, as are Tony Hale (Veep), Bill Skarsgard (It), and Erika Vasquez as fellow applicants. This is a surreal fantasy that strikes at some truths about how we live. (4 Stars)
New Order (Nuevo Orden)
The sixth film from Mexican writer-director Michel Franco is less than 90 minutes long but will leave you battered and devastated. As a wealthy “white” family celebrates the marriage of their daughter with other upper class guests at their posh estate, trouble is brewing in the streets of Mexico City. The “brown” workers, including people toiling away at the wedding itself, erupt into a furious revolution in which almost no one is spared. But the forces behind the seemingly spontaneous uprising may not be what they seem.
Franco spares no one in this harrowing and absolutely relevant descent into societal breakdown, as the screen fills with the screams of the tortured, the murder of women and children, and the flames of burning bodies. He may cut away at the last minute in key instances, but you are fully aware of what’s happening nonetheless. The film’s hard-nosed approach extends to the motivations behind the chaos, which are more opaque and not as straightforward as one might expect. New Order will leave you shaken and disturbed–as it should. This may not be science fiction. (4 Stars)
Belushi
The first major documentary on the life and career of late comedian and Saturday Night Live alumnus John Belushi touches as expected on all the personal history, creative development, and psychological complexity of a man who many consider one of the great comic geniuses of his time. With many of the interviews with key people done as audio only (for an oral history project), director R.J. Cutler fills in the visual blanks with animation, excerpts from private letters, and various film and video clips, creating a shaggy, kaleidoscopic vision of a too-brief and just as frenetic life.
Since Belushi’s career is well-documented (although it’s weird to realize he only starred in seven films), and the circumstances of his death sadly all too predictable, what stands out most about the film is the central relationship with his wife Judy, who provided an anchor even when Belushi self-destructively pushed her away. Belushi the movie doesn’t offer many surprises beyond that, but does make us wonder what he might have done had he stuck around. (3.5 Stars)
I’m Your Woman
Rachel Brosnahan (The Marvelous Mrs. Maisel) stars in this new melodrama from Fast Color helmer Julia Hart, who weaves themes of motherhood, loyalty, love, and family into a 1970s crime thriller with a decidedly feminist bent. Brosnahan plays Jean, whose sheltered life as the wife of professional thief Eddie (Bill Heck) is upended by his gifting her with a baby (not hers) and then disappearing shortly thereafter. Jean learns that Eddie has betrayed his boss and that she and the baby must go on the run, with help coming from a surprising source.
I’m Your Woman kicks off in bracing fashion, laying out the contours of Jean’s dreamlike, aimless life, then ripping it all out from under her in a gritty, fast-paced first half. But the movie nearly grinds to a halt in its second hour, with a lot of exposition and some confusing narrative strands slowly letting the air out of the proceedings. Brosnahan is great in as a woman who must finally fill in the blanks of her own life, with excellent work as well from Marsha Stephanie Blake and Arinzè Kene as unexpected allies, but the movie doesn’t achieve the triumphant moment it’s striving for. (3 Stars)
Apples
This Greek dystopian fable could serve in some ways as a more metaphorical companion piece to The Father. A product of Greece’s recent wave of “weird” filmmaking (led by Yorgos Lanthimos of Dogtooth and The Favourite fame), this debut from director and co-writer Christos Nikou is set in an Athens where a strange virus is causing people to experience abrupt and almost total memory loss. There’s no cure and no one recovers, and while some amnesiacs are claimed by their families, others become part of a program to give the afflicted a chance at starting a new life.
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Two of those in the latter category are Aris (Aris Servetalis) and Anna (Sofia Georgovassili), who try to recall the past while attempting to build a new future. He’s as melancholy as she is cheerful, and their different approaches are indicative of the ways all of us might face having our entire existence rebooted. Apples takes turns being absurd, sweet, and poignant, and while it’s a bit too self-consciously strange, it’s a touching twist on classics like Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind. (3.5 Stars)
Uncle Frank
Six Feet Under and True Blood creator Alan Ball has written and directed this intimate look at a New York University professor (Paul Bettany of WandaVision) who finally comes out to his semi-estranged South Carolina family when he returns home for the funeral of his father. Frank is aided in his efforts by his niece Beth (Sophia Lillis of It), who has always admired her worldly uncle, but didn’t even know his secret herself until attending NYU as well.
Bettany is fantastic, and supported by strong work from Lillis and Peter Macdissi as his longtime partner Walid. But there’s something that feels pre-programmed about the way the plot proceeds, and the film’s last half-hour goes off the rails in overwrought fashion. The engaging cast, led by Bettany’s dignity and humanity, steer it back however. (3.5 Stars)
One Night in Miami…
You can read a much more comprehensive review of Watchmen star Regina King’s directorial debut here, where movies section editor David Crow liked the movie a bit more than us. But after a slow start, there’s no denying that One Night in Miami… (adapted by Soul co-writer Kemp Powers from his play) builds to a powerful and inspiring finish.
Powers’ scenario envisions what happened on the night that Cassius Clay (El Goree), Malcolm X (Kingsley Ben-Adir), Sam Cooke (Leslie Odom Jr.), and football star Jim Brown (Aldis Hodge) all assembled in a motel room after Clay defeated Sonny Liston for the heavyweight championship. King can’t quite escape the movie’s origins as a play, but she projects confidence behind the camera and gets distinctive performances out of her four stars. Goree and Hodge are the strongest, but Ben-Adir’s doomed civil rights leader and Odom Jr.’s introverted singer are the heart of this timely story. (3.5 Stars)
The Intruder
A voiceover actress named Ines (Erica Rivas) has her vacation cut short by a tragic occurrence and comes home to find that the incident may have lasting supernatural repercussions in this low-energy chiller from Argentinian director Natalia Meta. The brooding atmosphere and sound studio setting seem almost like a deliberate nod to Peter Strickland’s eerie Berberian Sound Studio (2012), but Meta’s script can’t navigate the blurring lines between fantasy and reality as successfully.
The result is a movie that badly wants to be socially relevant enhanced horror but ends up being a sleepy letdown. Meta and the great Cecilia Roth as her mother both do their best, but there’s not enough substance to the story or Meta’s premise, and the scare tactics are predictable. (2 Stars)
Wander Darkly
We are mystified at the praise that this film has received since premiering at the Sundance Film Festival earlier this year, as we found it to be a confusing, pretentious mess. Sienna Miller and Diego Luna star as a young couple, with a house, a baby, not a lot of money, a growing distrust of each other, and all the pressure that brings to bear. Then their lives are changed in a horrific car accident from which Miller wakes up and begins a surreal journey through the couple��s past, with Luna as her guide.
Is Miller dead? Is she dreaming? The movie keeps the truth hidden but director/writer Tara Miele’s experimental non-linear narrative doesn’t pay off. The hopping through time and space is incoherent, even within its own rules (which are not clear either), and as a result the movie doesn’t build to anything emotionally true. The horror movie subplot and big “twist” at the end are also weak. Miller and Luna are both spellbinding, and have real chemistry, but they can’t save the film. (2 Stars)
The Boy Behind the Door
Two 12-year-old boys (Lonnie Chavis and Ezra Dewey) are kidnapped by a pair of what appear to be human sex traffickers in the tense opening moments of first-time directors David Charbonier and Justin Powell’s dark, dark thriller. Kevin (Dewey) is chained up inside the pair’s sinister house, which sits adjacent to an oil field; Bobby (Chavis) manages to escape from the trunk of their car, but valiantly enters the house to save his friend, knowing that at least one of their kidnappers is still inside.
After that gripping start, The Boy Behind the Door plunges further into inanity. The two boys are marvelous, but their characters are barely developed and the villains even less so. Stupid actions and implausible plot developments drain any believability out of what could have been a riveting tale, turning it into a subpar slasher movie that doesn’t even seem to know when it’s set: the boys don’t have mobile devices, yet Bobby treats an old rotary phone that he discovers like a find from an archaeological dig. Good cinematography and atmosphere can’t save this one from slamming shut on itself. (2 Stars)
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The Truth is Out There [on Netflix]
Characters: CastielXReader ft. Sam and Dean Winchester, Crowley
Word Count: 1600
A/N: One-shot written for @thing-you-do-with-that-thing Kari’s Favorite Things Challenge with prompt – The X-Files. Castiel searches for the truth of the human condition on Netflix…with a little help from his friends and a pair of fictional FBI agents who exemplify something it turns out he very much wants to believe. Off-beat humor and saccharine fluff.
The fateful day Sam instructed Castiel how to go about accessing Netflix was the day life in the bunker irrevocably changed. When not assisting with a case, the angel could reliably be found in his room binge watching yet another series, or two. You often tarried at the threshold of his ajar door on the way to bed to appreciate the television illuminated enraptured dopey smile glowing upon his normally austere features. Frequently you surrendered to the temptation to join him, swiftly drifting to sleep listening not to the television, but to his gentle laughter. He didn’t seem to mind the company, regularly and uncomplainingly obliging the use of his shoulder as a makeshift pillow when your drowsy head rolled sideways. Generally speaking, you were happy he found something to distract him from his myriad of woes and fill his long no-sleep-required angelic nights, not to mention the perfect pretext to spend more downtime with him without drawing unwanted notice and subsequent teasing from Sam and Dean.
The angel’s initial viewing preferences mostly leaned toward comedic sitcoms and classic slap-stick thanks to Dean’s belief that Cas needed to lighten up and a worldly anecdote about laughter being the best medicine. Innocent enough suggestions until Cas spent an entire week indicating every instance wherein a laugh track insertion would be appropriate in daily life. He even downloaded an app on his phone to further illustrate the point. Dean, the recipient of the lion’s share of this attention, was not amused. The last straw came when Cas stood by during a tense alleyway confrontation with their on-again off-again ally Crowley, pointing out with a gravelly there, there, and there again whenever the King of Hell made a particularly witty retort. Grasping his friend very firmly by the shoulder, Dean informed Cas, in no uncertain terms lest the angel not understand, exactly where he could hilariously shove his proverbial laugh track. Crowley never before, or again, regarded his angelic counterpart with such high esteem as he did during that meeting.
Sam had the brilliant idea of filling the angel’s watch queue to the brim with documentaries. Castiel, already a walking celestial encyclopedia of all-encompassing universal knowledge, day-by-day became swayed by one extreme opinion after another. First, it was the evils of sugar. The angel took it upon himself one evening to smite every last granule of the substance from the kitchen while you all slept, blissfully unaware there would be no morning breakfast cereal when you awoke or sweet crystalline delight to dump into your bitter coffee. You habituated to hiding in the bathroom with the shower running to mask the sound of contented chewing to enjoy your favorite cookies free from the angel’s icy blue disapproving glare. Dean began keeping pie in the Impala’s glovebox, by happy accident discovering apple pie stored in a car sitting in direct afternoon sun was nearly as delicious as one pulled piping hot from the oven. Sam walked around with a smug grin for a whole week, soaring mood squelched only when Cas sternly questioned him about the provenance of his salad greens. Were they genetically modified? Was he aware of the pesticides used in their production and their impact on the drastically dwindling bee population? The land destroyed in the manufacture of the palm oil listed as the fifth ingredient in his favored salad dressing? Was that salmon topping his heaping bowl of wrongs wild caught, or farmed?
Amidst threats by the thoroughly vexed parent-figure Winchesters to cancel Netflix altogether and a sulking Castiel dejectedly retreating to his room like a grounded teenager, you interceded, promising the brothers you would find something totally innocuous for the angel to watch. You weren’t giving up your late night snuggle fests, that conveniently no one thus far had identified as snuggling, without a fight. Netflix received a temporary stay of execution. Stifling a victorious squeal, cloaked in a mask of utter calm, you slunk from the library to apprise Cas of the good news, pace quickening to an enthusiastic scamper when you rounded the corner out of the brothers’ sight. Neither Sam nor Dean were fooled by the feigned disinterest of your demeanor – your amorous interest in the angel practically a flashing neon sign to everyone but the aforementioned oblivious angel. They exchanged a knowing glance, punctuated by Dean’s signature smirk and Sam’s husky laughter – the socially stumbling stoical seraph was your problem now.
“There is no such thing as little green men,” Cas said, narrowing his ocean blue eyes. Nearly five seasons into a marathon viewing of The X-Files, and the angel couldn’t get past the alien mythology behind the show.
As far as you were concerned, he was missing the whole point. “Ugh,” you grunted. Sat cross-legged side-by-side with the angel on the floor at the end of the bed, you flopped against the edge of the mattress, “you do realize you sound exactly like Dana Scully. How can you be so certain, oh skeptical one?”
“Because, there is no such creature in creation,” he stated matter-of-factly, expression earnest as he peered into your exasperated aspect, “I was there almost at the dawn, and I am fairly certain God didn’t create little green men before he created angels.”
“It’s a fictional world Cas,” you lamented, “it’s not about the aliens. Ever hear of suspension of disbelief for entertainment’s sake? Mulder wants desperately to believe there is a tangible explanation for his missing sister. It’s the great unknown of his life. Speculating gives him hope, something to hold on to, to chase. He’s broken, he has made mistakes, he’s doing the best he can in an imperfect world.” You realized after the last word lilted off your tongue that perhaps Mulder’s plight might hit a bit close to home for the angel.
“I understand,” Cas murmured, bobbing his scruffy chin thoughtfully, “then you value this show not for the accurateness of its subject matter, but for its depiction of the primary characters.”
“Yes, exactly!” you beamed. “And, you know, the complexity of their relationship.”
Cas squinted, his bewilderment palpably hanging in the air between you.
You suggestively waggled your eyebrows, “You know…the tension.”
“Ah,” Cas nodded comprehension, “you mean their continually dissenting opinions.”
“No Cas,” you shook your head, “I mean the sexual tension. Mulder and Scully are madly in love.”
The angel could not have appeared more gob-smacked than if you’d suddenly sprouted an additional big blinking eye in the center of your forehead.
“Look,” you snatched the remote, “I’ll just find a program more in your wheelhouse.” Clearly enjoying fantastic multi-layered character-driven sci-fi drama was off the scale of the angel’s emotional barometer and reading between the lines was not a skill he possessed with any degree of fluency. Maybe something in the realm of mystery like Murder She Wrote was a better option? Maybe a procedural cop drama a la N.Y.P.D. Blue?
Cas’ rough palm clasped over yours to prevent you from turning the episode off. “Please,” he entreated when you met his searching sapphire regard, “explain it to me. I want to understand.”
“O-okay,” you stuttered, focus dropping to his hand still holding yours.
He sheepishly withdrew the interloping appendage to rest in his lap.
“Um, it’s, uh,” you gaped, endeavoring to rally your thoughts beyond the lingering warmth of his touch tingling your fingers.
“I recognize they deeply respect one another,” the angel offered.
You nodded.
“And they would do anything to help one another,” he continued.
You kept nodding.
“And they make great personal and professional sacrifices to remain together as partners,” the tone of his voice rose, suggesting the waters of his perception here became muddied.
You looked to be exuberantly auditioning for the part of a life-sized bobble-head figurine.
“Yet they seem to me to be no more than friends,” he sighed, slouching against the bed in defeat of his own reasoning.
You reigned in your wildly bobbing noodle to articulate a reply, “For a long time they value their friendship too much to risk complicating it, but that doesn’t mean they love each other any less fiercely.”
“For a long time?” Cas lifted a brow askance.
“Spoiler warning,” you cautioned, “their relationship does become romantic, but as it turns out they were always much better friends. They each have a lot of baggage,” you paused, remembering to clarify so the angel didn’t think you were talking about literal luggage, “I mean, they bring a lot of pained history to the relationship, and it ultimately prevents them from being together that way.”
“And do they regret complicating their friendship with…with this romance?” Cas stared intently at you – oddly eager, in your estimation, for your answer.
You deliberated on your interpretation for a moment, taking into account the movies and the revival season in your verdict, “The way I see it?”
Cas nodded once, blue eyes glinting beneath an increasingly concentrated brow.
“No.”
Features relaxing, he sucked in a relieved, and for an angel, completely unnecessary breath.
“Why do you ask?” you motioned to set the remote on the floor between your bodies.
Cas caught up your hand in his again as you let the remote drop. Twining his fingers through yours, he waited for you to meet his openly adoring gaze before answering, “Because now seems like an appropriate time to tell you I value our friendship…very much.”
“I value our…oh,” your tongue seized, brain playing catch-up to the tender but insistent squeeze of his fingers. “Fiercely?” you whispered, agog.
“Fiercely,” he acknowledged. A soft smile curving his lips, he leaned forward, pressing a kiss to your astonished mouth.
#castiel x reader#kari's favorite things challenge#castiel x you#castiel fluff#castiel reader insert#spn fluff#spn reader insert#castiel imagine#castiel drabble#castiel#Castiel oneshot#castiel fanfic#cas x you#castiel x y/n#castielxreader#cas x reader#cricket writes cas
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Bless Your Heart-Part 1
A/N: This was written for @deanjensengirlmaggie’s strange pairings challenge. It’s my first attempt at fan fiction, and it got a little out of control, but I was having so much fun that I just decided to roll with it. Since I have to break it into two parts, I decided to steal another quote from her list of prompt choices and use one in each half. I really hope you enjoy it!
Warnings: Language and some explicit content (sexy but not full blown smutty)
“Dude, what the hell are we doing here? I’m gonna to get carried off by these pterodactyls,” Dean complained as he doused himself in another layer of Off Deep Woods.
“Man, quit being a whimp. I can’t believe you are even complaining. We are somewhere tropical for a change. It’s not cold. It’s not the end of the world. Just a regular case in a beautiful country. If a few mosquitoes are the worst we have to deal with, I’ll take it,” Sam countered.
“Yeah, yeah, don’t look a gift horse in the mouth and all that shit. I get it, Sammy. Still don’t want to get Zika though.” Dean glanced around at his immediate surroundings and he had to admit, though he’d never say it out loud, Sam had a point. Belize was something else. Better than their normal gig, that was for sure. Waves beat against the reef that stretched under the crystal-clear water right off the coast of Ambergris Caye and a nice breeze carried the smell of salt right to the boys’ noses and almost made them forget why they even came. Maybe they could spend a few days and eat some salbutes, catch a few fish, and throw back a few beers with Eliazar and a couple other locals.
“Tell me again what E said about these missing fellas on the island,” Dean said at about the same time a tourist in a neon pink golf cart nearly plowed him down in the middle of Front Street.
“Hey watch it dickhead!” Sam shouted as he grabbed his stunned older brother by the elbow and dragged him the rest of the way across the road. “Okay, all E told me is that several men on the island have gone missing in the last week or so. They believe they found the remains of one of the guys but they don’t have the results back from the lab yet.”
“Well I mean, couldn’t a shark or a crocodile or something have eaten them? Are we sure that this is our thing? There’s a lot of shit on this island that could take a hunk out of a man’s ass. I’d much rather swig some local rum, and …” Dean’s voice trailed off as he got distracted by a bikini clad group of twenty somethings drunkenly strutting their way. Sam followed Dean’s gaze and slapped him in the chest with the back of his hand. “What?! I’m appreciating the scenery man!”
With a roll of his eyes, Sam answered, “Yeah well if you are done, I’ll answer your original question. It’s our thing, trust me. It’s Lobster Fest time. A lot of the vics are tourists. Bad for business, and E is worried. He said the one body they found had hundreds of holes all the way through it and looked like it had been something’s appetizer.”
Dean considered that info for a moment before shrugging his shoulders and said, “Okay, so where do we start?”
“The usual. Visit the morgue, talk to the police, see if he had any traveling buddies. We will have to start in the morning though. Everything is closed for the day,” Sam replied.
“Okay cool, then I’m fixing to go to town on one of these bacon wrapped hot dogs.”
“I mention dead, hole riddled bodies and you think of bacon?! You’ve got problems man.”
“No Sammy, you’ve got problems if you can smell that deliciousness and your mouth doesn’t water.” Dean held up two fingers to the lady behind the table, and she started preparing his meal as he looked on with pure happiness.
Sam shook his head and sat on one of the brightly colored concrete benches in the local park, knowing better than to come between his brother and whatever food he was fixing to shove down his throat. He watched as a few local kids played on a giant sculpture of a sea turtle in the middle of the area with the ocean rolling in the background and got so lost in thought that he jumped when a girl approached him to ask if he would take her picture with her friends. It took him a moment to realize they were the girls Dean had been eyeballing a few minutes earlier. “Sure thing. Glad to,” Sam answered as he took her phone and stood.
“Thanks. I really appreciate it. We’ve been laying out today and those dirty monkeys really got to us,” the tall, busty, short haired brunette replied. “It’s hard enough to get a good picture when you are sober, but it’s just too pretty here to not take the opportunity to document it, you know?”
“Yeah I do. Alright, just tell me when y’all are ready.” The girls shifted into position and nodded. “One, two…”
“Oh my god man you have to try this shit. This is the best damn hot dog I’ve ever put in my mouth,” Dean practically moaned as he approached with his mouth full of food. When he looked away from his food long enough to notice the girls, he quickly swallowed and attempted to recover some semblance of his cool guy attitude.
“Yeah well you should try a nasty monkey!” shouted the same girl that approached Sam about the picture.
“Umm, excuse me?” Dean asked as he looked toward Sam. Sam looked as confused as Dean knew he was and just shrugged his shoulders.
Another voice piped up then. “Good lord child, it’s a dirty banana. Not nasty monkey or dirty monkey…dirty banana…got it? I don’t know how many times we have to tell you.”
The first girl looked at the second and just blinked. Then she suddenly yelled, “Oh and don’t forget about panty rippers!” and thrust her fruity drink in the air.
Dean sidled up next to Sam and whispered, “Where the hell do they come up with these names? Panty ripper…really? If that doesn’t put all sorts of images in your head, I don’t know what will.”
“And you tell me I’m the one that doesn’t know how to have a good time. Now you are bitching about what the locals call their drinks?”
Dean put his hands up. “Nope, nope, not at all. Simply making an observation.”
“Damn it, Shel,” a third female voice swore laughingly. “You spilled your fucking panty ripper all over me, you hooker. Can we just take the stupid ass picture and leave these poor guys alone?”
“Oh yeah the picture! Definitely. Taylor, Y/N, come here!” the girl named “Shel” shouted. Dean finally got a good look at the third girl, the one with the sailor’s mouth, and when she smiled for the picture, he found himself smiling too. What the hell? He wiped his hand down his face to clear off the dumb ass look he knew must be on it. A freaking smitten horny teenager. In two seconds and with the flash of a smile, he was hooked. She was shorter than him by a good six inches, maybe more. Tan skin. Dark hair. Big brown eyes and dark long lashes. She was very fit but soft and curvy in all the right places and filling out that bikini top and those denim jeans shorts exactly the way he liked. Based on her build, accent, and ability to make her wonderfully colorful language still sound proper and sweet, he assumed she had to be from Texas or some other southern state.
Sam finished taking the picture and the girls walked over to approve of the photo. Once it earned their unanimous consent, Shel officially introduced herself and her friends to the boys. “I’m Shelby. This is Taylor and our chaperone here is Y/N. Are y’all just getting here? Don’t look too burnt yet.”
“Yeah. I’m Sam and this is my brother Dean. We are here for work actually but don’t start until the morning. We decided to do tourist thing for now.”
When Dean took Y/N’s hand in his, a buzz of excitement immediately ran through him. It was like electricity or some shit equally as corny. Her eyes widened slightly, his only hint there was a chance that she noticed too.
“Well lucky us. You came at the perfect time.“ Shelby took another pull off her Pantyripper. "Want us to show you some of the best bars on the island?”
Sam looked at Dean, who nodded, and then smiled and said a quick yes.
“Yay, okay we will hit Fido’s first.” Shelby grabbed his arm and they were off, Taylor following closely behind. Y/N was clearly the soberest of the bunch and paused and took a deep breath before loyalty and concern for her friends pushed her feet into motion.
Dean fell into step beside her and started the awkward small talk. “So where are yall from, Y/N?”
“Texas, can’t you tell?” she joked in an exaggerated southern drawl.
“I knew it. I knew you were from the south the instant you insulted your friend and made it sound like a compliment.”
Y/N laughed in agreement. “Yeah one of our specialties. Shel and I just give each other a hard time every chance we get. Hooker is a term of endearment to us. If you are interested, I can teach you…show you my ways.”
Dean thought of all HIS ways he’d like to teach HER, but opted for a simple answer instead. “Well I never really cared much about concealing my insults, but sure, teach away, Miyagi.”
“You’ve probably heard this before, but it’s so true. Just say ‘bless your heart’ after it. ‘Like she’s dumber than a box of rocks, bless her heart’ or ‘he only lasted about 15 seconds in bed, bless his heart’. Works like a charm.”
Dean threw his head back and laughed, enjoying that she was already comfortable enough to joke with him like this. “I call bullshit. There’s no way you can insult a man’s stamina and make it sound good. Guess I’m glad I never have to worry about that one.” He winked at her then and saw a faint blush creep up her tan cheeks. To her credit, she never missed a beat.
Y/N just rolled her eyes and shook her head. “Oh geez Louise. You are one of those guys.” Her voiced dripped with sarcasm and exaggerated disappointment. “I expected better from a country boy.“
“Alright fair enough. Forgive me darlin.” He clasped his hands together as he pleaded with her. She looked at him, making a show of considering her options and smiled and she huffed out an “I guess”. “Okay, for real, what makes you say I’m a country boy?”
She stopped and looked him up and down. “What? You mean besides the tan arms and pasty white legs?” Dean gave her an unamused look and she chuckled and continued, “Well you have a little drawl yourself. You say shit like ‘darlin’. You have bow legs. You have calluses on your hands. You are tall and look fairly…” She glanced over as she emphasized the word with a knowing smile, “fit. Plus, you do seem to have at least a few manners. Call it a lucky guess.”
“Ha well look who has me all figured out. I’m from Kansas actually. Work for the FBI so forgive me if I don’t get a whole lot of time to soak up any rays. I happen to think my pasty legs are sexy as hell though, just saying.”
Y/N glanced down before sighing as she said, “Awwww. Poor fella. You must be delusional, bless your heart.” He quickly shot her the bird, and she swatted at his upraised middle finger. He grabbed her wrist as she swung, and her laughter died as the air thickened with tension. He looked down at her and pulled her a step closer, acting on the connection he felt the moment he laid eyes on her. He could see her chest rising and falling more quickly now as she looked back into his green eyes. God, he’d wanted to do this since the second he saw her. He ran his other hand through her hair, tilting her head back slightly as he leaned down towards her waiting lips. He paused to make sure she was okay with what was about to happen.
”Kiss me,“ she whispered. And he obliged. As soon as his lips touched hers, he felt her relax into him. He was right; she felt it too. He let go of her wrist and cradled the side of her face in his large hand as he deepened the kiss. Shit, he was in over his head and he knew it the instant she slipped her tongue into his mouth. If her mouth tasted like this, he could only imagine how sweet other parts of her would taste. She stepped into him even further and wrapped her arms around his back giving him chills as she ran her nails down his spine. She made a whining noise when he pulled away to catch his breath, but it turned into an excited squeal as he yanked her into the shadows of the alley they were passing and pinned her against the wall. She quickly stood on her tiptoes, threw her arms around the back of his neck and planted another searing kiss on his lips. As he dipped his tongue into her mouth this time she let out the sexiest moan he’d ever heard and caught himself damn near growling in response. And when she fisted her fingers in his short hair and nipped his bottom lip, his control finally snapped. He reached under the back of her muscular legs and lifted her, pushing her back against the wall. She wrapped her legs around his waist as he pressed his damn near painfully hard erection between her legs and resumed his onslaught on her mouth.
“Fuck,” he growled, barely able to force himself to pull away from the kiss, “I’d give anything for us to be back at my room. I want to be inside you so bad it hurts.” He kissed her neck then. “Take care of you. Make you come every way I possibly can.” He kissed down to her collarbone. “Make you say my name over and over again until you are screaming it.” He moved one hand from underneath her leg long enough to pull down the left side of her bikini top and immediately suck her hardened nipple into his mouth.
“Holy shit, Dean,” she cried as she threw her head back in pleasure. “Just fuck me here please,” she begged. He looked up at her, his pupils blown wide with lust, his perfect mouth wrapped around that swollen bud, and gently nipped it in response. She moaned louder and squeezed him even tighter with her strong legs, but somehow he forced himself to stop. He brushed his lips across hers again and then pulled away just enough to break the connection and pant, “That’s the most tempting offer I’ve had in a good, long time sweetheart, but I’m gonna turn you down. I can already tell you that you deserve better than this. I want to take my time with you. Kiss…lick…taste every inch of your body before I bury myself in you. Sound like a deal?”
She was still breathing heavily as she replied, “Well hell yeah, it’s a deal. I mean as long as you guarantee to live up to your promise to last longer than fifteen seconds.” Y/N unlocked her legs from his hips, slid down his body and attempted to put herself back together after the hottest make-session of her life.
“Hell I don’t know. That was just the warmup, and I’m about ready to blow. This is going to be the worst case of blue balls in the history of blue balls,” he admitted as he resituated himself.
She chuckled and took a few steps back towards the street before looking over her shoulder at him with a wicked gleam in her eyes. “Bless your little pea picking heart,” she called mockingly before she took off into the night towards Fido’s.
“Yeah you go ahead and bless it, darlin',” he grumbled to himself before starting after her. “It’s already fucking yours anyway.”
@ilostmyshoe-79 @kittenofdoomage @deanwinchester-smut @leatherwhiskeycoffeeplaid @melissaj616 @winchesterprincessbride @unadulteratedstorycollector
Dearest tagged queens of spn fanfiction: I am sorry to tag you in my sad first attempt at the craft you have already mastered, but I have read y'all’s stories and know your talents and am here to learn. It would be great if it was from some of the best. I would be thrilled if you read this and found it remotely interesting, but I’d also love any feedback or suggestions. Thank you!
PS: I will gladly untag you if it isn’t your thing and apologize in advance.
#reader x dean#dean winchester#spn challenge#spn characters#jens strange pairings challenge#reader insert#Belizean folk lore#bless your heart#spn fanfic#first try#it got out of hand#supernatural#sam winchester
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Into The Game Chapter Three
Author’s Note: Woah what’s this?! I finally wrote the third chapter! After like literally six months. I’m a really slow uploader. Sorry about that guys. But here’s chapter three. Also Dan and Phil might be a little OOC towards the middle of this. Sorry about that. I don’t own FNAF or Dan and Phil and everything written in this post in purely fiction. I don’t claim that Phan is real. Even though I wish it was. Also I know Dan is Daniel Howell now on YouTube but I called him Danisnotonfire in this once. It made more sense in the context that I wrote it in. You’ll see. Also the next chapter is probably going to be from Jack and Mark’s Pov
Warnings: Maybe some cussing? Little bit of angst between Dan and Phil.
Into The Game
Chapter three
Allow me to fill this somewhat freighting silence with some light hearted banter. Due to the massive success and even more so of the unfortunate closing of Freddy’s Fazbear’s Pizza, it was clear that the stage was set, no pun intended, for another contender in children’s entertainment. Unlike most entertainment venues, our robotic entertainers are rented out during the day, and it’s your job to get the robots back in proper working order before the following morning.
“ I do like that we get to move around in this game though,” Phil said as we called through the vent.
“Yeah, but that just means that’s we’re going to have to crawl away from things quickly. You do realize that right?” Dan replied rolling his eyes at Phil’s optimnism. Usually it didn’t bother him, but with Phil’s frequent mood swings it was starting to.
���This is one of my wrost fears,” Phil replied laughing lightly.
“Well, I’m sure we’ll be out of here soon,” Dan replied as he saw a light at the end of the vent.
The vent opened into a dimly lit crawl space. There was another giant fan in the middle of the room and several Tvs in the ceilings but they were just showing static. In directly middle of the room there was a clown mask with lights just above it, like Scott Cawthon had wanted to make sure that players see it. On the left side of the fan was a speaker and some kind of keypad system that made Dan’s head spin with the easter eggs it could hold. Below the keypad was some weird face that Dan couldn’t really make out.
On the left side of the fan there was another mask that was very clown like as well. Below that mask was three more mask that seemed to be the Speak no evil, see no evil, and hear no evil kind of masks. Behind the masks were wires that lead to who knows where.
On each side of the room there were two control paneling things with two buttons. One was blue with a sun picture on it, and the other was orange with a lightening strike on it. It was in this moment that Dan realized there were two windows one on each side of the room. Under each window there looked like a vent. Dan had a bad feeling about that. He also noticed that there was a vent that led somewhere unknown in the wall with the fan.
“You are now in the primary control module. It’s actually a crawlspace between the two front show rooms. Now let’s get started with your daily tasks. View the window to your left,This is the Ballora gallery party room and dance studio,encouraging kids to get fit, and enjoy pizza. Let’s turn on the light, and see if Ballora is on stage. Press the blue button on the elevated keypad to your left”
“Get fit and enjoy pizza. Ha yeah right,” Dan laughed to himself.
“This is freaking me out. Oh my god! Look one of the masks is blinking,” Phil said trembling a bit.
“Literally everything here could murder us…you know what. Let’s not think about that. I’ll push the button,” Dan replied starting forward to push the button.
“Why do you get to push it?! What if I wanted to? Why do you always assume that I don’t want to do things Dan!” Phil replied stomping his foot.
Dan looked over at Phil and raised an eyebrow. “What the hell are you on about?”
“You never take me- I mean we never go out to hang anymore,” Phil replied rolling his eyes at Dan’s stupid question.
Dan rolled his eyes, “It works both ways Phil! I’m not a mind reader, you have to tell me this kind of stuff otherwise I can’t fix it,” Dan snapped back.
“Whatever just push the damn button,” Phil replied crossing his arms. “I think you need to remember that we’re on camera and we don’t have the power to control what gets edited out,” Dan hissed at Phil. Phil rolled his eyes, but he knew Dan was outed. Phil was on the verge of outing them right then and there. Dan went over to push the button and the light in the window came on and a buzzing sound filled the room. Nothing was in the room.
“uh-oh, it looks like Ballora doesn’t feel like dancing. Let’s give her some motivation. Press the red button now, to administer a controlled shock. Maybe that will put the spring back in her step.
“What that’s cruel!” Phil replied.
“They’re robots Phil. They can’t feel,” Dan replied back as he pushed the button.
“Let’s check the light again,”
In the window was the animatronic that the guy had called Ballora. She looked like a Ballerina, but with purple on her arms.
“Oh she’s a pretty robot,” Phil commented and Dan rolled his eyes.
“Excellent. Ballora is feeling like her old self again, and will be ready to perform again tomorrow. Now view the window on your right. This is the fun-time auditorium, where fun-time Foxy encourages kids to play and share. Try the light. Let’s see what Fun-time Foxy is up to,”
“I bet he’s not going to be there,” Phil replied.
“I don’t know, let’s see. FOXY!” Dan yelled as he pushed the light. “Ah man, he’s not there,”
“It looks like fun-time foxy has taken the day off. Let’s motivate fun-time Foxy with a controlled shock,”
Dan pushed the button but nothing showed,
“Let’s try another controlled shock,”
Dan pushed the button again. This time foxy was standing there. “Yay he’s working!” Dan smiled.
“Looks like fun-time foxy is in perfect working order, Great job!”
“This is actually pretty fun,” Phil smiled as the vent in front of us opened up.
“In front of you is another vent shaft. Crawl through it reach the circus gallery control module,”
“No! I don’t want to get back in the shaft!” Phil said as his eyes widened. Phil hadn’t even admitted it but small spaces creeped him out a small bit. “It’s okay Phil,” Dan said only loud enough for Phil to hear. Dan wanted to squeeze Phil’s hand to reassure him, but he couldn’t. Dan couldn’t risk outing them. Phil give Dan a small smile and nodded.
“Oh my god there’s a shaft there, and another one there!” Dan said pointing to the right towards Foxy’s window and then to the left to Ballora’s.
“This is like a shaft fest!” Phil joked as Dan couldn’t help but scoff at Phil’s joke. “Five nights at Freddy’s the Shaftining,” Dan shot back. Phil laughed at Dan and Dan felt a little bit better about their situation. The jokes hadn’t flown this easy between them in a long time. Although Dan had a feeling that most of this was because this was Danisnotonfire talking to AmazingPhil, not Dan Howell talking to Phil Lester. It was an act because the viewers couldn’t know that they were an item. They were best friends… nothing more. Although even being just friends didn’t seem to be going easy anymore. Dan missed being able to make Phil laugh. Latley all Dan could do was make Phil cry.
“Maybe we should get into the vent,” Phil said pulling Dan out of his thoughts. Dan nodded and decided to lead the way. Phil was following slightly behind him.
“Let’s get out of here as fast as we can. This vent is giving me the creeps,” Dan voiced his thoughts out loud. The vent was cramped and smelt of dirt and a copper scent that Dan couldn’t quite put his finger on.
“I’m scared that we’re going to get jump scared. I’m so tense” Phil replied grinding his teeth together.
“I mean- I don’t know. uh i wonder how Mark and Jack are doing.” Dan replied trying to take Phil’s mind off of being scared. “Probably better than us,” Phil replied.
After a moment or two of crawling they finally made it to the next room. Dan pulled himself out of the vent and dust himself off. “If I would have known there would have been so much exercising I would have said no when they asked us to do this,” Dan joked as Phil crawled out of the vent.
The room that they were in was significantly smaller than the room that they were just in. The room was filled with more controls that made Dan’s head spin just looking at them. To the right of the main controls was a panel much like the ones that had been by Ballora and Foxy’s window. Behind the main controls was a window just like Foxy and Ballora’s.
“On the other side of the glass is circus baby’s auditorium. Let’s turn on the light and see what baby is up to”
“I don’t want to see what baby’s up to” Phil replied as he pushed the button anyway.
“it looks like a few of the light are out but we can fix that later. Let’s encourage baby to cheer up with a controlled shock,”
“Oh baby baby, how was I supposed to know” Phil sang under his breath and Dan smirked at him. Phil’s secret obsession with Brittany Spears was coming out again. Dan pushed the button to shock baby.
The sound of electricity filled the room and the window flashed causing the two boys to flinch.
“That sounded like it hurt,” Phil replied rubbing his eyes.
“Yeah, I think we should check on her,” Dan said as he pushed the button for the light. The light came on but there was still no baby.
“let’s try another contorled shock”
“Another one! The first one sounded like it really hurt!” Phil replied as he prepared himself by shielding his eyes as he pushed the button. Another loud sound of electricity filled the room and the window flashed.
“Is she okay?” Dan asked as he pushed the light button again. The light came on but there still wasn’t any baby on the stage.
After another shock or two
“Great job Circus baby we knew we could count on you! That concludes your duties for your first night on the job. We don’t want you to leave overwhelmed. Otherwise, you might not come back. Please leave using the vent behind you and we’ll see you again tomorrow.
“Well I guess that’s it then. Let’s go back through the vent,”
Dan and Phil crawled back through the vent. This time the vent was filled with sounds of mechanical parts rattling. “I don’t know if we should go towards that…” Phil said stopping in his tracks.
“it’s okay. We have to go in order to get to the next night. We’ll be okay,” Dan said pushing Phil forward.
SHIFT COMPLETE
#phan#daniel howell#danisnotonfire#amazingphil#phillester#markiplier#jacksepticeye#fnaf sister location#fnaf#phanfiction#septiplier
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The Gift of Anger
In all the world’s literature, secular or sacred, conflict is the most essential element, usually ignited by anger. Without conflict you quite simply have no story. Thus, all the great epics, such as Homer’s Iliad and Odyssey and India’s Ramayana and Mahabharata, revolve around continuing conflict, involving danger and death, accompanied by fear and anger.
And the Jews' passover was at hand, and Jesus went up to Jerusalem.And found in the temple those that sold oxen and sheep and doves,and the changers of money sitting:
And when he had made a scourge of small cords,
he drove them all out of the temple, and the sheep, and the oxen;
and poured out the changers' money, and overthrew the tables;
And said unto them that sold doves, Take these things hence;
make not my Father's house an house of merchandise.
And his disciples remembered that it was written,The zeal of thine house hath eaten me up.
Jesus Christ in the Gospel of John
Conflict is even essential in comedy, where it may not always become violent. Anger is an indispensible component, typically based upon misunderstandings that eventually get sorted out. When the fairy tales assure us that the heroic couple lives “happily ever after,” they usually leave out anger management. As Joseph Campbell, who dearly loved his younger wife, Jean Erdman, put it, “Marriage is an ordeal!”
Why We Get Angry
If the truth be told, anger simply happens. Watch little children together, even at play. They will have disputes and start pushing or even biting each other.
We, as adults, go about it more smoothly. We hide or suppress our anger; whereas children quickly forgive and make up. Anger just happens, but we almost always attribute it to someone or something.
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We all have expectations, as we are rational creatures with acute imaginations. We quickly get a sense of entitlement and start insisting on certain outcomes based on past experience. When they are blocked, we get frustrated and flare up. We are not content with the basics of food, water, shelter and clothing. We require so much more.
Western religions point to our “sin” nature, our innate tendency to rebel against our Creator. From an Eastern perspective, our false sense of self makes us insist that we are confined within this bag of skin and bones, rather than realizing that we are the whole of life, the whole of creation.
Anger as a Blessing
We all admire, and often emulate, fictional characters who keep their cool under all circumstances, such as the many incarnations of James Bond. James has the aplomb to make love to a beautiful counter-agent just before being thrown out of a fast-moving airplane. These make-believe characters seem so professional, powerful and totally together.
Yet anger can actually be a positive force in the face of systematic exploitation, or as Pope Francis I put it, “structural evil.” We disempower ourselves when we pretend that it is all cool when the very ground is falling out from under us.
If our species had been without the fight or flight response, we would never have made it out of the trees. This is the automatic response of fear or anger where we decide to take on the lioness, or run for our lives right back up the tree.
Few Americans were thrilled with the results of the 2016 Presidential election. It seemed nobody got what they really wanted, and the candidates with heart got eliminated in the primaries. The attendant shock and dismay of the public led many Americans to actively protest and seek to change the political system in more fundamental ways than had ever been contemplated. This would not be possible if everyone maintained a “grin-and-bear it” attitude.
How Anger Utterly Transformed Three of the Greatest Men
When we think of saints and sages, let alone avatars, bodhisattvas and messiahs, we think of infinitely pure beings who have transcended their egos, given up all attachments and do nothing but radiate bliss 24-hours a day. Jesus is the “meek and mild” shepherd, Gandhi is the playful grandfather who gives candy to children and Mandela is the ultimate diplomat who brings black and white people together in a World Cup love fest.
It wasn’t always that way!
1. Jesus of Nazareth
Before Jesus threw the moneychangers out of the temple, he had called the Pharisees, the most visibly religious members of His society “whitewashed tombs that look beautiful on the outside, but are inwardly filled with dead men’s bones.” A powerful young man in the prime of His life, Jesus spoke in metaphors and was gifted in shocking people out of their complacency. He was anything but thrilled with the status quo.
2. Mahatma Gandhi
Gandhi’s grandson, Dr. Arun Gandhi, recently wrote a book, The Gift of Anger, based on the early guidance of the Mahatma, when Arun came to Gandhi’s ashram as a child. When Arun would get angry, Gandhi did not try to punish him, but to encourage him to channel his anger in a positive way, just as Gandhi did as a young man when thrown out of the train in South Africa solely on the basis of the color of his skin. Don’t fight the people, fight the oppressive system. Love the perpetrators; hate the system, itself.
3. Nelson Mandela
Madiba Mandela started out life as a tribal chieftain with a good education, prepared to play a positive role in society. However, he couldn’t accept the arbitrary nature of Apartheid, and the indignity that Black Africans suffered in a deeply segregated South Africa. Mandela got involved in the terrorist wing of the African National Congress and was convicted of a car bomb that killed 19 people. For that, Mandela was sentenced for 27 years to an offshore prison breaking stones. Mandela gradually faced his dark side, and developed compassion for the ruling Afrikaans as people. He finally realized the evil was with the system, itself, that ultimately served neither whites nor blacks.
Forgiveness the Flip Side of Anger
Forgiveness is the capstone of Christianity, as Christ taught his students in the Sermon on the Mount to forgive their enemies. Anger is part of life, but we are to let go of our anger before the sun sets and reconcile ourselves with our offender. This wasn’t simply an empty platitude on Christ’s part. When He was tried in the Sanhedrin, He refused to defend Himself. Even on the cross, He prayed that His Father would forgive the very Pharisees who mocked Him “for they know not what they do.”
It is no sin to get upset and angry. It is, however, self-defeating to nurture it and cherish a grudge. Modern medical and psychiatric studies reveal how an unwillingness to forgive is behind many dysfunctions and diseases, such as cancer. Sustained anger is its own “reward,” it devours the body! Consider anger much like pain. It alerts you to needed changes, but it is counterproductive when it persists.
It is no sin to get upset and angry. It is, however, self-defeating to nurture it and cherish a grudge.
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When Christ forgave his enemies, He revealed a powerful insight: They literally didn’t know what they were doing. We are all at various stages of being conscious, and when we are totally unconscious, we end up doing stupid and hurtful things.
Punishing these people for that is inappropriate. We are to have compassion, and see ourselves in them. We would say and do the very same things at their level of consciousness.
Communication Always the Way Out
With anger management, communication is the foundation, especially in intimate relationships. We literally don’t hear each other. When we pretend to listen, we too often compare and contrast and interpret what she says, rather letting her speak for herself. In addition, we often interrupt her or even talk over her.
Werner Erhard revealed the power of sharing withholds. Conflict most often starts out of what is NOT said, what we are unwilling to share with our partner. This typically results in smoldering resentment. Werner taught people in his seminars to HAVE their anger, rather than BE their anger.
If you get your head out of the way, you will find that your upset is often gone in a flash.
Over the years, I have tested out Werner’s insights and realized that he was totally on the mark when he disclosed that love is a function of communication. As he put it, when you have said it all, both the good and the bad, you will find that what you have really been withholding is: I LOVE YOU! Deep listening is the most fulfilling possible price to pay for the love that is just waiting inside you.
Never Put a Person Out of Your Heart
Baba Ram Dass served as a missionary from the East to an entire generation of Westerners, having dropped out as a professor at Harvard through his preoccupation with psychedellics. He traveled to India in search of the truth and stumbled upon Maharaji (Neem Karoli Baba), a spiritual master with very advanced psychic ability and siddhis (inner powers). Ram Dass fell in love with Maharaji when spoke about Ram Dass’s mother.
While Ram Das went through his initiation at the foothills of the Himalayas, Maharaji happened to do something that deeply offended Ram Dass’s standards of right and wrong. Maharaji had harshly fired one of his assistants for making what Ram Dass felt were very minor mistakes. If Maharaji were really the enlightened man everyone says he was, he would never do such a thing.
When Ram Dass eventually confronted his master, he received no apology. Ram Dass then and there had to choose between upholding his standards over a trivial incident, or forgiving the person he loved most in the entire world. It was no contest. Then Maharaji called Ram Dass over to his private quarters with good humor and admonished him that, yes, he can get angry, but never put a person out of his heart.
We can have anger AND love. One doesn’t necessarily cancel out the other.
Far More Loving Than You Ever Imagined
The most important person I have ever met, the woman I have been in love with for nearly 20 years, has often argued with me, and I with her. I can’t count all the times that we have been angry about one thing or another. Looking back it couldn’t matter less. We love each other very deeply. This love has grown over the years. We live within a context where you can love one another and still get angry.
We have gotten a whole lot more skillful with our anger. I am beginning to learn that she is almost always right, and I am getting more than a little tired of my own stupidity. So, I would say that we are making progress.
But what about the truly difficult people, such as President Donald Trump? Where does anger management apply to someone like him? Whether I voted for him or not, he is still the American President. I can hate what he does, and yet still love him. As Voltaire put it, “I may not agree with a word you say, but I will defend to death your right to say it!”
We can actually be thankful for the difficult people of every persuasion. They stretch us spiritually and take us to the edge of enlightenment and sainthood. Christ made no conditions on forgiveness. Why should we? We can continually bless people every morning and evening and realize that the divine love that emerges from this exercise is the most powerful force in the entire Universe.
We can even forgive our own folly along the way. The final gift will be to realize that WHO WE ALL REALLY ARE, our very essence, is ABSOLUTE LOVE.
The Gift of Anger appeared first on http://consciousowl.com.
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Books I read in January
I’m continuing with posting mini-reviews. Books are listed in the order I started them. I’ve asterisked my two favourites.
January was a surprisingly successful month, reading wise - I read twice as many new books than I usually do. And I really enjoyed most of these stories, too.
(My longer reviews, and my ratings, for these books are on LibraryThing.)
All the Birds in the Sky by Charlie Jane Anders: This is a strange blend of urban fantasy and near-future science fiction that is very matter-of-fact about its strangeness, as if much of its strangeness is not actually strange at all. I found this a difficult book to enjoy - bleak and alienating at times and I didn’t always connect with the characters. On the other hand, it is well written, original and genre-savvy, and there were things about it that I liked. I don’t regret finishing it but am left feeling very ambivalent.
Star Wars: Bloodline by Claudia Gray: I enjoyed this, but it was neither the story I expected nor was hoping for. I wanted a more introspective, personal story about Leia grappling with the complexities of a failing political system, and the legacy of her family. Leia's confronted with both but she's also busy investigating a criminal organisation, which involves more adventure, espionage and collaboration with younger colleagues.
The Towers, the Moon by Andrea K. Höst: A trio of stories set after The Pyramids of London. I didn’t mind the shorter two stories, about Griff and Eluned. The much-longer “Forfeit”, about their Aunt Arianne, was tense and interesting, although I wouldn’t say I liked it. I think I’ve worked out what it is about this series that I don’t click with: I find the worldbuilding confusing and unappealing. If it was just confusing, I’d probably be okay, but confusing and unappealing? Nope.
In Arcadia by Andrea K. Höst: Set after the events of the Touchstone Trilogy, this is a slice-of-life geek-fest/romance about a middle-aged woman adjusting to a new planet. It technically stands alone, but much of the appeal is in seeing familiar characters from someone else’s perspective. Highly entertaining. I particularly liked Laura’s relationship with her sister, and all their fandom references.
She Wore Red Trainers by Na'ima B. Robert: An interesting look at what life can be like for practising Muslim teenagers in South London, and it depicts aspects of that culture which I didn’t know about. But as a YA novel about dealing with family issues and working out what to do after high school, it’s unremarkable. Not as moving nor as tightly written as it could have been.
Fly By Night by Frances Hardinge: A clever, sharply written fantasy novel about Mosca, a 12 year old orphan who burns down her uncle's mill, abducts a goose and frees a “poetic practitioner” from the stocks in exchange for a job as his secretary. It took me weeks to read the first third of this. However, I persevered, and was glad I did. The story twists in unexpected ways, and manages to pull all the narrative threads together beautifully.
* The Keeper of the Mist by Rachel Neumeier: A beautifully written fantasy novel about power and unexpected responsibility, friendship and magic. I fell in love with it from the opening scene - from the opening of the opening scene, before the plot begins. The prose was lovely and the characterisation was lively, filling me with confidence that this story was being told by an excellent storyteller.
Moon-flash by Patricia A. McKillip: An unusual and poignant coming-of-age story. Kyreol leaves her hunter-gatherer community to travel down the river, searching for answers. There’s a certain McKillip-ish ambiguity to the worldbuilding, nicely juxtaposed against Kyreol’s more straightforward emotional journey. I really liked this, but not in quite the same way I really liked McKillip’s most recent novel. Less aesthetic appreciation, more emotional connection, perhaps.
* The Long Way to a Small, Angry Planet by Becky Chambers: I read this after seeing it described as “cosy space opera” and partly because the title and the cover are so appealing. It’s about the multi-species (but mostly Human) crew of the Wayfarer, a tunnelling ship that builds wormholes. It’s a story about family - mostly about found family. It's warm, funny and touching, and its strength lies in the interplay of personalities.
Hold Me by Courtney Milan: When Maria and Jay meet, neither realise that they know each other's online identities, and have been messaging each other a lot. This is like You've Got Mail, except it makes some different choices and is miles more diverse. I liked the portrayal of academia and online relationships, and the way the story is about how these characters continue to deal with the legacy of their pasts. Genre-romance is not my genre, but this might be my favourite genre-romance ever.
The Puffin Treasury of Australian Children's Stories: An illustrated collection of excerpts, stories and a few poems. It's a mixture of iconic classics and authors who were popular in the '90s when this was published. Some of the excerpts standalone better than others, but on the whole, this is an excellent collection with a range of different stories and some lovely illustrations.
Black Sheep by Georgette Heyer: Abby is a delight - an unmarried 28 year old largely satisfied with her life and her independence, who is determined to bring her niece up with more freedom than she herself was given. I liked her world of female relations and friends, and the importance Black Sheep places on these relationships. I also enjoyed her interactions with the unconventional and unpredictable Miles Calverleigh. This had the potential to be Heyer at her best, but falls slightly short in the end. Slightly.
The Talisman Ring by Georgette Heyer: This is Heyer at her most unabashedly silly. (I think this may be a quality of Heyer's earlier works. This was published 30 years before Black Sheep.) The plot is ridiculous but it never tries to be anything else. It made me laugh aloud.
Excellent light entertainment.
#Herenya reviews books#Herenya recommends things#Georgette Heyer#Patricia A. McKillip#Becky Chambers#Rachel Neumeier#Andrea K. Höst#Star Wars#Courtney Milan#Frances Hardinge#Charlie Jane Anders
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