#this Advent for me is about finally getting angry

[ahopefulbromantic]

Rant incoming!

I hate hate hate with a passion how Advent Calendars are advertised by stores. The whole idea of them is restricting yourself, allowing yourself only one treat per day and having to wait for it, to earn it by patiently waiting and denying yourself for Christ. But ads on TV are all like: "It's about treating yourself! 😉 Every day you give yourself a little gift to appreciate yourself! 😁 It's all about you! You feeling good and comfortable! 😌"

Just, aaargh!! Yes it's good to celebrate and treat yourself sometimes and yes we as a society have such a toxic relationship with work that we have to be reminded about resting and enjoying ourselves. But Advent is NOT a time for that! It's a time for ascesis - which is an equally forgotten and an equally important skill in our society without which the whole treating yourself loses its meaning! It's a time to be less focused on your work, yes, but instead of focusing on yourself in its place, to focus on God and building your relationship with Him. How could they twist this awesome tool and reminder so awfully?!

[missaengg]

Creating a New, Sinful Tradition

15 Days Until Christmas: Tradition Made for Ikemen Advent hosted by @queengiuliettafirstlady and @candied-boys Featuring: Ikemen Villains Roger Barel x f!reader Tags: smut, humor, modern AU, fingering, size kink Word Count: 1171

It hurts… It hurts... It hurts, it hurts, it hurts, ithurtsithurtsithurtsithurtsithurts!

Your nether regions literally feel like they’re being torn apart. Tears sting your eyes. You frantically tap on the beefy man’s shoulders, so worked up you can’t find the words to tell him to stop.

“Roger,” you finally choke out.

The chiseled, Greek statue of a man you love peers down at you with his amber eyes, a look of bewilderment on his face. “What’s wrong?”

“It hurts,” you mewl. “You’re too… too big!”

You hate admitting this to him, especially after all the times you’ve boasted you could take him no problem when he warns you of his size, but also because it would lead to this…

“Heh…” Roger snickers. “Did I not prep you enough to take me?”

Your eyes narrow, your lips pressing into a thin line. You glower at the smug man hovering over you, biting back the desire to slap that infuriating snicker off his arrogant lips because… because how dare he laugh at your suffering?! Sometimes… sometimes he could be such an egotistical, insufferable prick – a prick you love, but still, a prick!

“I told you,” Roger swipes his tongue across the tears that have welled in your eyes, but have yet to fall, “you’d have to take three or four of my fingers before you can take me, sweetheart.”

You frown and look away, somewhat in petulance, somewhat to hide your embarrassment. He’s not wrong. It’s you who demanded for him to skip the step where his fingers pry you open and turn you into a gooey mess, but… ugh, you just can’t stand it when he’s right.

However, embarrassment and hate aside, you’re also confused at how you ended up caged between his thick, mouthwatering arms with his delectable, sculpted ass between your legs. When you suggested the two of you marathon the ‘Home Alone’ series after Thanksgiving dinner – your holiday tradition, you certainly didn’t expect it to lead to… this!

Though in hindsight, when it comes to Roger and the couch and movies, you probably, maybe, should’ve expected it… 

“Stop teasing me,” you gripe, shooting him a look that could bring any man to his knees – if that man isn’t Roger. 

“But I like teasing you,” he grins, “otherwise how would I get you to cry such delicious tears for me? How else would I” – he drags his tongue along your neck causing you to shiver – “hear you moan just for me?” 

“Roger, stop!” You squirm from beneath him, but no matter how much you wriggle, it doesn’t matter. He has you caged so tight, there’s no possible way you can escape.

“That’s right, lil lady, keep calling my name.”

You huff, an annoyed grumble rising in your throat, but when he reaches that ticklish spot under your ear, it changes into a sultry moan.

“Mm, just like that. Keep moaning for me.” 

Roger’s mouth sucks on that bit of sensitive flesh, and your back – the traitor – arches of its own accord. A faint thought that no amount of concealer would be able to hide the blooming, angry bruise on your skin crosses your hazy mind. It flies away the moment Roger’s hand finds its way to your clit.

“Roger, the movie!” you protest, but it comes out half-heartedly, a shaky whimper rather than a true protest.

“Don’t care about the movie,” he says, his breath prickling your skin. “It’s a shit movie anyway.”

“Hey!” You open your mouth, ready to shoot him a scathing rebuttal because how dare he insult your favorite Christmas movie of all time, but a startled gasp leaves your lips when he takes that opportunity to slip in his thick pointer.

“I don’t think you care about the movie either, sweetheart,” he teases, his amber eyes gleefully taking in the tremor coursing through your body. “That’s one.”

Roger curls his finger, and your eyes flutter shut. Your hands on his shoulders clench. Your fingers dig into the taut muscle underneath.

How was it possible for him to drive you insane with just one of his fat fingers?!

Roger slips in a second finger and slowly begins to pump his hand, the ridges of his joint dragging as they slide in and out. “That’s two,” he smirks. “You like that, don’t you?”

“No,” you spit out between grit teeth.

“Can’t lie to me, sweetheart.” Roger pulls his fingers out, spreading them apart. The slick evidence of your arousal stretches between his fingers. “Your body tells me everything.” He plunges his fingers back, this time adding a third – his ring finger. “That’s three.”

You feel your entrance fluttering around his digits, struggling to accommodate the width of all three of them combined. Even with just his fingers, you can feel yourself stretching to what feels like your limit, despite the fact this isn’t the first time the two of you have been intimate.

“Come on,” he coos. “You can do it.”

“Roger, you’re too…ngh… fucking big.”

“I thought you liked that,” Roger blithely responds.

You roll your eyes at him, but they’re interrupted when he sinks his fingers down to the knuckles, your eyes rolling back into your head.

“Fuu–-uck,” you scream, your hips jerking up to meet his palm.

“I like it when you scream for me.”

Normally his throaty whisper would drive you to glare at him, but with his fingers buried inside of you, you don’t care. You just want him to do something about the growing ache in your loins.

“Roger, your fingers–” 

“Hm, what’s that, sweetheart?” He has that shit-eating grin you love and hate on his face.

“Roger,” you grumble.

“Okay, okay, calm your tits,” he laughs. “If that’s what you want, I’ll oblige.”

Roger pulls his fingers out and drives them back in, the tips tickling your cervix in the process. You groan, rocking your hips to match his rhythm, your breasts flush against his firm, broad chest.

Just then, the sound of machine gunfire floats into your ear along with the iconic line, ‘Merry Christmas, ya filthy animal, and a Happy New Year’.

Your muddled mind pops out of the pleasure it's roiled in, your attention back on the movie playing on the TV. Right, you almost forgot. Your Christmas tradition.

“Roger, the movie,” you urgently whisper.

Roger leans in, his mouth right by your ear. “Sweetheart, right now I’m more concerned about making you come, and when you do, you’re going to take me like the good little girl you are.”

“But, Roger, my Christmas tradition…”

Roger strokes that sweet spot within you, sending electricity coursing through your veins and forcing any and all thoughts about your tradition out of your mind. “I was thinking,” he murmurs, his voice enticingly, spine-tinglingly husky, “we could start a new tradition. One where you turn on that stupid movie, and I pound you senseless.”

Your Roger-drunk mind immediately hums in agreement, especially when his fingers send another wave of sparks careening down your spine.

Traditions… traditions are meant to be broken… right?

[dutchdread]

A small rant

I've noticed that a lot of places that discuss the LTD are less focussed on analyzing and explaining final fantasy VII, and more focussed on throwing insults at either the characters, or the people who support them. I think I've done a fairly good job at making sure this place stays relatively matter-of-fact, and despite believing that "Cloti" is the only interpretation of the story that makes sense I am usually pretty positive about Aerith as a person, and more importantly, as a character. My stance tends to be that the only version of Aerith I think is fundamentally unlikable is the one presented by Cleriths. So permit me to slightly backtrack on that as I ask:

Am I the only one getting sick of Aeriths character?

And I don't mean "the only Cloti supporter who is sick of Aerith", I mean isn't the general fanbase of the game getting sick of her?

I ask this because I was watching the new Rebirth trailer, and I couldn't help but roll my eyes during the scenes where Aerith sings, or where it tries to survival-bait the viewer. In FFVII Aeriths death plays only a small part in the grand scheme of things. It neither prevents nor causes holy, holy was summoned before she died and is actually held back by the will of Sephiroth, which is the bulk of the external plot. And it doesn't cause Clouds mental break, which was an inevitable outcome of his history with Tifa, Sephiroth, and Nibleheim.

So why does the trailer make it feel like Final Fantasy VII is the story of Aeriths potential death? I thought the point of Aeriths death was that it comes suddenly and unexpectedly, without a large fan-fare, leaving nothing but a hole in its wake. I thought the point was to show a death that wasn't like "in hollywood". So why does her death now get it's own musical accompaniment and stage play?

Aerith was once a normal girl with a big destiny, one that she was as unsure of as any of us, she was just a person, just like us, with maybe a hint of something more. She got angry, she could be petty, she could be clueless. In another words, she was human.

But what is she now?

Aerith is now Jesus and Mary all in one. Fans got so upset at her death that Square-enix felt the need to include her in everything and every time Aerith became a bit less human, and a bit more idolized, until in remake she became a walking, talking, deus ex machina. In advent children she was presented as almost angelic, giving guidance to lost souls both good and bad and healing the children. But it was still ok because most of it was centered around Clouds psyche. The problem isn't with Aeriths death having importance to Cloud. The problem is square-enix trying to milk Aeriths death for all it's worth, making it into a soulless spectacle.

Aeriths death is now the horror monster that loses its terror once you see it. It's everywhere and everything has to revolve around it and because of it it's no longer a good story, but cheap emotional manipulation.

Within the remake Aerith is no longer the playful and innocent GIRL she once was. She's Gandalf the white, come back from the dead to pass down quests and wisdom from up on high. Step aside Cloud, this is Aeriths story, all you other side-characters are only here for back-up. Aerith is now a self-insert fan-fiction character. She has no flaws, everyone loves her, her death is more important than those of other people, the universe, time, and destiny will all bend to make sure the Mary-godessue doesn't die. Because everything has to revolve around her you know? So yeah, of course Aerith can sing! Who cares that there was never before any indication of this. Sure, Tifa will probably get to play the piano, but here is the thing….Tifa being able to play the piano has actually always been a part of the game! Since when is Aerith suddenly a broadway performer? Probably since the same time that she became a picasso at random wall art.

Years of fan obsession have deified away everything that once made Aerith interesting. The grand story of Final Fantasy VII, the quest to save the planet, and the internal heroes journey about accepting the past and the true self. Clouds backstory and struggles, it's all overshadowed by the once irrelevant plotpoint of "will Aerith die?".

Like with Sephiroth, fan obsession has caused square-enix to destroy all sense of mystery, magic, and restraint in order to "give fans what they want", even if it ruins the product.

While I think the cheap spectacle of hyper focussing the marketing and potentially early game around Aeriths death have already essentially poisoned the remake, making it into a mere shadow of what it could have been, I still believe that Square-enix has enough integrity left to actually kill her and move focus back on what actually matters. But I have to say, at this point it's not even just because I want the story of FFVII to be protected and experienced as it should be. But also because I am just getting sick and tired of what Aerith has become, and would now consider Sephiroth stabbing her as a mercy killing for what's left of her character.

[mimisempai]

Too close to see

Summary

When, after millennia of forbidding, happiness is finally within reach, it's sometimes hard to believe in its reality. But all it takes is a look from the outside.

Notes

I've got the flu so forgive the fluff dose....

INEFFABLE ADVENT CALENDER

On Ao3

Rating G -  864 words

"Hey, Grumpy Face, what are you doing here all alone?"

Crowley, closing the side door of the Bentley, turned to Nina, who had just called out to him.

He replied in a nonchalant tone, "I'm not doing anything, I'm just going home."

Nina crossed her arms and replied, "You looked grumpier than usual. Is there trouble brewing between you and your bookseller?  "

When Nina looked at him like that, Crowley could never send her packing; they might fight like cats and dogs, but she had a way of seeing right through him, which meant that Crowley always found himself confiding in her.

He leaned back against the Bentley and sighed, "No, everything's fine with Aziraphale, and maybe that's the problem, sometimes I feel like everything's too good. Like I don't deserve this happiness."

Nina nudged his shoulder and replied, "Crowley, where did you learn that happiness has to be earned? When you find happiness, you cherish it and do everything you can to keep it. But that has nothing to do with whether or not you're worthy of it."

Crowley, not entirely convinced, shrugged and muttered, "People like me aren't supposed to end up with someone like Aziraphale."

"Crowley, you're dead wrong. I don't know anything about people like you. But I know you. And even I can see that fate was right to bring you together. You know, when I first came here, I often wondered when I saw him alone in his bookshop, always with a smile on his face, always friendly, never a word higher than the next, is he really happy or is it just an attitude, a way of being? Then he introduced you that day in the coffee shop, and I saw that special smile."

The bookseller, a little hesitant at first, pointed to the red-haired man and said, "This is Crowley."

Then, in a more confident tone, he smiled back, the smile illuminating his entire face, "He and I go back a long way." 

Nina continued, "His smile was so different, it had so much more depth, he had a sparkle in his eyes that I'd never seen before. And then with you, I saw him get vindictive, angry, assertive. It was like he was really himself with you. So don't tell me that people like you have nothing to do with people like Aziraphale, because what is certain is that you, Crowley, have everything to do with him, Aziraphale."

She finished her little speech by gently punching him in the chest.

"Are you two fighting again?"

Nina and Crowley turned to Aziraphale, who was smiling at them. 

Nina walked over to him and just before crossing the street said, "Go take care of your grumpy boyfriend, at least try to get him to smile for Christmas."

Aziraphale looked surprised and replied, "He smiles a lot with me."

Nina turned to Crowley and, pointing at him, said, "See? That's what I meant."

As she walked toward the coffee shop, Aziraphale came up beside Crowley and said gently, extending his hand, "Shall we walk home together?"

Crowley chuckled softly and said, "You know it's only a few hundred yards to the bookshop?"

Aziraphale, still holding out his hand, replied, "Does that mean you don't want to?"

The demon put his hand in the angel's and replied, "As if you didn't know.

As they began to walk hand in hand toward the bookshop, a gust of winter wind brought them a little closer, and the angel asked softly, "What did Nina mean?"

Crowley replied, tilting his head toward the angel, "Something I knew but needed to be told to remind me."

"Something good?"

Crowley smiled, then kissed the angel's hair before answering, "Something very good."

Aziraphale asked him in an amused tone, "I have a feeling you're not going to tell me any more."

After they entered the bookshop, Crowley turned to the angel and, taking his face between his hands, said gently, "There's nothing more to say that we don't already know."

"And what is that?"

"That we were meant for each other."

The demon leaned over the angel and kissed him tenderly before wrapping his arms around him.

Across the street, through the coffee shop window, Nina had followed them with her gaze and could now see their entwined silhouettes, illuminated by the diffused light of the bookshop's Christmas tree.

As she watched them fondly, she thought that anyone who had been close to them for any length of time could see and feel the strength of the bond they shared.

She felt two arms wrap around her waist and Maggie's voice asked softly, "Scheming again?"

Nina leaned into the warm embrace and shook her head, "No, not at all, I was just thinking that sometimes you get so close to things that you can't see them and that an outside view helps to put things into perspective."

She felt the gentle pressure of a kiss on her hair and Maggie rested her chin on her shoulder before saying softly, "I'm happy for them..."

Then she pressed another kiss to Nina's temple and added, "...and for us."

Nina hummed and said nothing, because sometimes happiness was speechless.

Still not beta'd

Still not my native language

Still hoping you'll enjoy this story  🥰

Still thanking you for bearing with me 😝

Ineffable Growing Love series : (After season 2) 

Part 1 Story 1-99

Part 2 Story 100-?

Ineffable Husbands masterlist : here (Before season 2)

[gisellelx]

Twilight Advent Calendar, Day 7

Dec. 7 - Choose one Twilight couple (or an AU ship) and tell us about an argument they've had. How did they resolve it in the end?

Masterpost/Prompts

I'm still fighting with this dang thing and have been for about a year. I was hoping to get it all the way unraveled with the help of a deadline but I did not. So here's a teaser of the surface of this fight. They are fighting about something that's actually two layers deeper than this, but it's going to take me a hot second to link this all up, apparently. ---

from "Yellows," Chapter 9 of Cien Años de Compañerismo

~||x||~

They hadn’t talked about this. They hadn’t needed to; vampires couldn’t reproduce sexually. She knew where he stood with respect to the legality of a medical procedure that he considered vital to his ability to care for his patients; he knew—and she thought, respected!—that he could never fathom what it was like to carry a pregnancy. But suddenly here they were, diametrically opposed.

Edward. It had only taken his conversation with Edward, and then they had been thrust into this nightmare. Always Edward. His weakest point; his fatal flaw. If Carlisle made a mistake, it was always for Edward. His rashest decisions—always with Edward in mind.

Except for you, her mind replied at once, and it was this reminder that softened her long enough to really look at him.

Her husband looked—anguished. If it were possible for him to somehow be paler, gaunter than he already was, he was that and then some. The light in his eyes that she loved, the playful side of him that he so rarely showed anyone but her, was utterly extinguished.

His eyes, darker than she’d seen them in a long while, cast around the nursery anxiously. He didn’t fully see it the first time, she knew. He took in the crib, the changing table, the diaper stacker, the blankets and rattles, the delicate lace and ornate woodwork mixed with the practicalities of size zero diapers and nipple pads and spit-up rags.

“You’ve done…a great deal,” he said finally.

No thanks to your overwhelming support, she wanted to say, but she did not. It was enough, she knew, to stand here, staring at him. Not comforting him, not taking him into her arms, not doing any of the things he’d come to rely on from her. She didn’t need to be cold to him; she needed only not to be warm.

“Well someone needed to do something.”

His brow furrowed. “Esme, I am doing everything.”

“You“—she choked. He was trying to figure it out, still. Still. Trying to get their daughter-in-law to see reason. Trying to make all this work, this room, this hope, utterly unnecessary. “Carlisle Cullen, you are still trying to end this.”

“I can’t end this!!!” he roared so loudly the window rattled a little, startling them both. The dark eyes went wide, and then her husband’s face disappeared into his palms. He had large hands, Carlisle, and he could bury all his features into them, leaving Esme staring at only the roots of his uncharacteristically untidy hair.

“Even if I wanted to, even if she wanted me to I couldn’t,” came the plaintive voice a moment later. “It—he—that—is growing too quickly. She’s so emaciated I can’t be certain but she measured at about twenty-six weeks this morning and twenty-eight this afternoon. Even if we were all agreed on what to do, even if I had decades of experience with this procedure—which I do not, may I remind you, try as you might to build me up as a monster in your head—I’d just as likely kill her anyway. There’s no target. I don’t know what I’m dealing with. I’m blind. And you…” he gulped. “You’re angry with me for what you think I’m doing but Esme, I can’t do anything at all.”

The repeated words rode on a quavering intake of breath as he locked her eyes: “I can’t do anything at all.”

She meant to take a step toward him, she thought, but her feet took her one step further away.

[bisexualfantasyfox]

Writebr Garden's Advent Calendar Event

"Please can you make it snow just a little more? It's one of my favorite things in the whole world...when it falls like in the best Christmas movies. Do you know what movies are? Probably not, huh? Well can you make it snow gently with a ton of snowflakes?" Sam whispered to the large knotted pine beside her in such a hopeful tone that it nearly cracked my heart in two. "The wind is uncooperative today." The tree told me with lingering sadness in his creaking tone, sharing in my wish to make Sam happy even though neither of us understood what was so important about her request. I whispered to him for a time, asking his permission and with it granted I lay quiet and still to wait. After a few moments of concentration, Jen finally interrupted with a small clearing of her throat. "Whatchya doing?"

"Asking the tree for snow, Bryn says the forest folk talk too just not the same way we do." Sam answered, "Now shhhh! I'm trying to concentrate on what he's saying." I was pleased to hear she had taken my comment seriously and then immediately surprised when Jen chuckled and approached rather than shaking her head as she often did when such topics came around. "Well tree, I think you'll have to help my sister understand that the snow comes from the sky and not trees." From my perch I saw Sam open her mouth to return the playful teasing, for that's all it really was, and before she could get a word out I kicked one of the branches which sent a cascade of snow down on Jen with a freezing plop!

She gasped sharply and sweet little Sam fell into the pillowy snow laughing like she was going to burst. Jen tried to look angry but the intensity of her laughter proved too much to contain. Instead she started packing a snowball that had Sam running and the chase was on. I bounced carefully on each branch as I leapt tree to tree, a few feet ahead of them always. The snow rained down just as Sam asked and I knew right then as I saw Jen's eyes sparkle with the reflection of thousands of flakes like tiny stars in their own infinate galaxy, laughter echoing around the forest, what was so special about snow.

[xxcatzladyxx]

Demon Slayer Advent Calendar | Day 20 | Giyu x Reader | Sledging

Written by me!

~~~

"Good morning, Mr. Urokodaki! Good morning, Giyu!" you greeted the two of them in high spirits. You wanted to do something with Giyu today and were looking for him. Until Tanjiro tipped you off that he wanted to pay a visit to his former master. You knew where the house of the former water column was located and had run straight there with a sledge in tow.

Urokodaki was happy to see you. He hadn't been your master. You had the same one as Zenitsu. However, he was always happy to see you. Giyu looked as emotionless as ever. It was hard for you to read him. Was he happy or not? You could look into his beautiful blue eyes for hours and not find an answer.

"How are you?" you ask the older man. "I'm fine, thank you for asking. And you?" "Me too, thank you!" Then you give Giyu your undivided attention.

"And how are you, Giyu?" The person you spoke to just mumbled something to himself. You didn't understand. Nevertheless, the smile on your lips didn't disappear. You weren't angry with Giyu for his behavior. That was just the way he was and you didn't know him any differently. You liked him like that.

"Shall we go sledging?" you asked the black-haired man. Your smile didn't fade. Not even when he looked shocked for a moment before putting his face back on. You looked at him patiently. For quite a while, to be precise.

"If I have to..." he said and got up from his seat. You jumped for joy. You hadn't expected this answer. More like a rebuff. So you were all the more pleased. You both say goodbye to Urokodaki and you take Giyu to a smaller mountain.

"This is going to be fun," you rubbed your hands together and grinned to yourself. Giyu sighed behind you. He didn't even know why he had agreed and what he had actually gotten himself into. It had nothing to do with you. He had nothing against you. He liked your company, even if he would never admit it. At least you didn't tease him about his behavior. Just like Shinobu. She had apparently made it her life's work to tease the poor guy. You liked the pillar of insects, but it really went against the grain.

Giyu and you had reached the top of the small hill. You put the sled into position. You looked down from the mountain. It was a good height from your point of view. You were looking forward to it like a little kid. You had always loved sledging as a child. It had been your favorite winter activity and it hadn't changed to this day. While others were having a snowball fight or building a snowman, you were sledging down a slope.

"Come on Giyu, now the fun part begins." You sat down on the front part of the wooden vehicle and indicated to the water pillar with a tap on the wood that he should sit behind you. He hesitated and didn't move a single muscle in his body.

"Come on, now. I won't bite," you tried to get him to finally get moving. And look what happened. He made his way towards you. His eyes looked at you as emotionlessly as ever. He sat down behind you at a certain distance.

"Giyu, come on now. Don't be like that. You have to put your arms around me, otherwise you'll fall off." You carefully took his hands and pulled them towards you. Giyu's eyes widened a little in shock. You could only see for a split second that he was wearing his usual mask. You put his arms around you and prepared to slide down the slope with him.

~*~

In the late afternoon, you sat with Mr. Urokodaki again and drank a hot tea to warm up. You'd had a lot of fun. Giyu didn't say a word about it, but a small smile briefly adorned his lips. What none of you could have known was that Shinobu had been watching you the whole time. She could literally see Giyu enjoying your closeness and she had a new topic to tease Giyu about. Namely you! And he wouldn't be so unemotional about this topic anymore. Every time Shinobu will ask him about you, he will turn red in the face. Much to the delight of the insect pillar.

[mauvelilywilliams]

Writerblr Garden Advent Calendar Event: Found Family

I used today's prompt to write out a scene that would happen if Die and the others got stuck inside due to a snowstorm. And Die gets reminded that it's not just him against the world.

(Scene under the cut)

Die stormed around the littered loft, his footsteps echoing in the bleak, dirt-stained room with its cracking drywall. Only muffled by the sound of the heavy falling snow and the howling wind outside the broken window. A smell of cold, yellow must, and smoke filled the air. Die grabbed a fairly good sized piece of charcoal that had rolled out of the dying fire in the center of the room and threw it out the broken window at the sky. “Damn it!” Clause and Deirdre stood in the doorway to the loft. The darkness behind them partially hid the stairwell that was slowing gaining a thin sheet of ice in spots as the mist they had moments ago froze. Clause watched on in concern and Deirdre curled her lip in frustration at Die's actions. The angry man’s jet-black hair was wild from being tugged at and his brown eyes seemed darker than usual from his mood. Both siblings knew to tread carefully when he was like this. After a moment of standing awkwardly, trying to read the situation, Deirdre finally reached up and shoved her brother into the room. Clause stumbled his way into the loft and almost tripped over a broken woven basket. Die didn’t look over, but his brief pause gave away that he at least noticed he wasn’t alone. Clause tried to make eye contact, but Die wasn’t having any of it. So, Clause busied himself with looking for something in the room. Deirdre walked in behind Clause and made her way toward the fire that was practically nothing more than a coal sitting on sheet metal and bricks. The bits of smoke that it managed to kick out curled up toward the ceiling and a hole that had been broken out, exposing an old air duct. No one had any idea where the smoke was going from there but at least it wasn't gathering in the room. Die glanced over and glared at her, still trying to not look at Clause. “I don't want to hear anything about how this isn't helpful.” He huffed and angrily sat down next to the pitiful fire that was threatening to go out. Clause settled on grabbing a blanket and pulled it out from under a pile of clothes and a collection of acorn tops. He tossed it over the back of his shoulders and sat down next to Die. Which garnished a glare from Die before he looked away, trying to keep from looking Clause in the eyes. “Neither one of you have to stay with me,” Die grumbled. Clause took the blanket and tossed it over Die's shoulders too just before scooching a little closer to Die. “I'd like to stay with you, if that's okay.” Deirdre sat down next to the fire and tossed a few more pieces of wood on. Which started smoking horribly. The mist probably got them a bit wet on the outside. “Yeah, if we left, you'd probably do something stupid.” Die looked at Deirdre expecting her to be glaring at him or about to give some sort of lecture. But instead, she busied herself by checking the multiple hair ties in her ponytail, making sure her signature look of poofy black baubles went down her back correctly. Then he felt a bump on his shoulder. Die turned to see that Clause was smiling at him, brown eyes still worried but trying to be positive, and his shoulder against Die’s. “We're here with you, you know.” He pulled the blanket a bit tighter around Die and himself. Die felt the tension in his shoulders release. He couldn't even bother letting out a groan this time at their kindness. He glanced back at the fire and leaned in a little against Clause. “Stupid. The both of you.” Deirdre smirked, “Says the man who almost let the fire go out.”

[lespicybrocoli]

10 fandoms / 10 characters / 10 tags ヽ(✿ﾟ▽ﾟ)ノヽ(✿ﾟ▽ﾟ)ノヽ(✿ﾟ▽ﾟ)ノ

Gracias a @rainy-days-and-nights por el tag!

Cloud Strife/ Final Fantasy 7

The original blorbo, my first love (the one you never forget), my first wet and sad man, the one hero who had mental illness before it was cool (jk, however It was the first I got to know), for him I downloaded the anime OVA in a process that took 3 days and 5 hrs per day on my local internet shop and i bought the original Advent Children movie and the extended. He defined my taste in fictional men.

Uriko/ Bloody Roar 2

My first crush, she made me a furry before I even knew what a furry was, she awoke in me my taste for fighting women and catgirls. Silly little weapon of mass destruction, best girl, best playable character in Bloody Roar (yes, Im biased, no I don't look to be corrected)

Raine Sage/Tales of Symphonia

I wanted to be her when i grew up, now older I come to undestand that maybe I wanted to fu--*gets kicked*

Best archealogist, best sister, takes no ones bullshit. What the world of research needs.

Roxas/ Kingdom Hearts

Righ in my teenager era, thought it was Cloud so I looked, stayed because of the tragic existencialism, best angry boy, he has never done anything wrong on his life, kicked Riku's ass like a pro, fave resident in Sora's Heart hotel. A little gremling out for blood.

Maka Albarn/ Soul Eater

My irrevocable call that I was, in fact, not straight. The most cool female character I had ever seen, fuck the perfect stereotype (even thou she was the academic sterotype of perfect student) she was a messy bitch with angry issues and it was so fucking healing to see her being that way. Made me realice you can have a boyfriend and a nonbinary partner at the same time.

Aqua/ Kingdom Hearts

My wife, she carries the whole BBS game on her back, not because something arbitrary like most powerful keyblade wilder (which she is) nor because she is the only one who becomes master of her group (wich she does) but because she, literally, pass the whole game,pulling together the shit her idiotic himbo crush and her best friend do during all the game. Her movements while fighting are top 1000 of sexy things

Riku/ Kingdom Hearts

He is the representation of the queer journey made game character, the ironic fact that he is the closest to the mascot of all that represents capitalism is incredible good for social study. Seeing him growing on the story resonated with my growing into a lgbta+ person and now we are both happy with who we are.

Dante/ Devil May Cry

I literally buyed the whole tri-pack of the DMC saga back in 2013 when I didn't even had a PS2, just to play it in a console a friend let me borrow. All the bro dudes buying his bad boy persona when he is a fucking depressed man that only knows happiness when he has his brother back, looked for the sexyness and irreverent style, stayed for the tragic sibling drama.

Dream/ The Sandman

The blorbo that pretty much brough me back to Tumblr. Goth, sad, twink, depressed, divorced dad of one poor soul with the most toxic family ever. Neil Gaiman saw that one comic about giving robot feelings and decided to do the same with concepts. No Neil, you didn’t give it feelings, you fucked up a concept.

Loki/ Marvel MCU

Sad wet snake, with queer tendencys ignored by most of marvel who is made justice on fanart/fanfic. My favourite "redemption" trope. Mama's boy. HE USES MAGIC, CAN SHAPESHIFT AND FIGHTS WITH KNIVES. May hate the world but loves his brother, that gets me every time. I just want them to be happy

I tag @umi-umita @agent-bee @seiya-starsniper

[redkyrii]

History of Cheat!-related Advent Calendar pages [Part 2/3]

2016 spoils us with a second Cheat feature on December 14th, 2016.

Yet another animated short. Little Timmy is fed up with his embarrassingly lousy performance in Cheat! In a bid to finally see some success, he takes to the library, studying day-and-night with a written guide on how to cheat effectively. The kid strides up to the next Cheat! game with newfound confidence, and his studies immediately pay off; even Spectre's sharp eyes fail to read him as he's clearing the table. In the end, he proudly galumphs away with every chip. This one is... very ugly. The concept is fun and all, but it's a big eyesore, especially considering how relatively nice the other feature of this year looked. That stupid goddamn Fernypoo face really should've stayed in Lucky Coin.

The prizes for this day are Spectres Eyes Contacts and How to be a Cheat! Champion.

Those contacts are one badass wearable, lemme tell ya.

Our next entry is a whopping three years later on December 18th, 2019.

This is also an animated short, but half of the archive for this specific year is broken for no reason, so this screencap I dug up is all I have to work off of. Looking at this still, I'm not sure I want to see it in action. That art is *rough*. This short seems to star the Lucky Coin trio: Brucey, Fernypoo and... ... Who is that? Is that supposed to be Capara? Maybe??? Because that is NOT her. Why is she yellow??? That is one of the most obvious, gaudy, impossible-to-miss oversights possible. Another beautiful red kyrii erased from history... Also, Brucey has no reason to be drawn with gross little fingies here. Put those away. I know they're probably just sitting by a fireplace, but with the way this scene is composed, it looks like they're just burning shit in the middle of the room, watching the flames flicker with morbid satisfaction.

The Prizes for this day are Angry Capara Toy and Princess Fernypoo Gown.

OK, so Capara suddenly going bottle blonde isn't meant to be a redesign, because this toy of her is quite literally just a red kyrii. Honestly astonishing. The dress is a high-quality wearable, but to this day, they never did release a tiara to go with it.

Since this year is full of two-parters, we will be combining December 1st & 2nd, 2020.

Another animated short! There's a lotta these. Brucey and his unnamed xweetok girlfriend are enjoying a stroll together in the crisp winter air. After being reminded that the holidays are swiftly approaching, they each rush to the shops to get their last-minute gifts for each other. Brucey wants to get his unnamed xweetok girlfriend a comb for her hair but he doesn't have the funds for it, so he's forced to trade in his pocket watch (that he's famously always had). Unnamed xweetok girlfriend wants to get Brucey a new chain for his pocket watch but she doesn't have the funds for it, so she trades in her hair (the shopkeeper was just a freak like that, I guess). They reunite to discover their gifts for each other have been rendered useless by their sacrifices, and they thankfully just have a good laugh. It's just an ordinary spoof of The Gift of the Magi, but it's still really weird to me. Brucey B? In a stable, lasting romantic relationship??? Terrible characterization, gargantuan oversight. But seriously, I feel like this one shouldn't have been about Brucey at all. He's too rich and established as a character to be obligatorily shoved into a role like this. You could've replaced him with Hubert or some shit, and the story would remain the same. Also, this xweetok character practically isn't canon, because she is never shown or mentioned again.

Of the four prizes you get for these two parts, the only tangentially related item you recieve is Brucey B Watchchain.

Again, when I think of Brucey B, I think of his famous pocket watch that he's totally always had. All the other three are about the Xweetok; really cements the sentiment that they only included him here to fill in a blank.

[maroonghoul]

Ranking of all the Christmas Horror Movies I’ve seen (as of 2024)

I'm sorry I never finished summer of slashers. Real life got in the way.

At least I can update this for the year.

43.Nekrotronic- This probably shouldn't even count. Sure, it's got horror elements (zombies, demons, ghosts) but it doesn't try anything scary with them. It's more of a stupid action comedy most of the time.

Literally the only part of this that even has anything to do with Christmas is one scene when at the villains board meeting where she has her human underlings wear Santa hats...for some reason. Do we even confirm if this was set at Christmas? I can see why it would be, but I don't remember anyone actually saying it. I might have lost track.

Yeah, it's at the bottom because it's neither scary or festive. But it was kinda entertaining. For what a cheap genre film from Australia could be. It didn't make me angry.

42.Alien Raiders

41.Anna & the Apocalypse

40.Better Watch Out

39.Good Tidings

38. Silent Night, Bloody Night- So even Black Christmas wasn't the first holiday slasher, huh? Actually, this is more of a giallo, given the cast and tropes, but it's got the body count.

This movie is way more about mood and dread then actually characters to latch onto, for better or worse. Once again, it uses the "dangerous mental patient" trope I don't care for, especially for a critical bit of the backstory that's motivating the killing in the movie's present day. But I sorta give it points over Good Tidings in that we're told it about it rather then seeing it, and the source of exposition isn't too reliable anyway. Plus, it's a bit impressive that some of these patients seemed to have integrated back into society without murdering anyone else, so there's that.

37.The Wolf of Snow Hollow

36.The Mothman Prophecies-Assuming you're someone who doesn't know anything about the Mothman of Point Pleasant urban legend, like I was before seeing this movie, you would think this a creature feature. In actuality, this has more in common with The Dead Zone then say, Cujo. With a dash of cosmic horror given these predictions are coming from something definitely not human but whose true morality is unknown.

It's low because it's a story that's more concerned with existential horror then any other. Dealing with an unjust and nonsensical world and chasing something that might provide answers but only raising worse questions. What a fun thing to match with the holiday season.

I suppose the lack of satisfaction is the point, but then it just makes it look like the movie ends without a clear point. Maybe they should have gotten David Fincher to help with that.

35.Jack Frost

34.I Trapped the Devil

33.Slay Belles

32.P2

31.The Advent Calendar

30 Silent Night, Deadly Night V: The Toymaker killer toys plus Rankin Bass's own Santa Claus, Mickey Rooney, in a villainous role? sounds fun.

In fact hot take, but killer toys makes way more sense as a weapon of choice for a killer Santa to me then an axe. I never got the axe. Is it connected to firewood? The toys are pretty cool too. Make me think this was more what Puppet Master 1 was going to be like.

Okay, actually the bad Santa in this movie is the deadbeat baby daddy who can't just approach the mom like a normal person because we need a red herring and something to pad out the film.

And Mickey's not even the final boss too. (His character's called Joe Petto. Meant as foreshadowing but comes off as something much darker then just about anything else) That'd be his android/mannequin son. You can keep your poohinverse Pinocchio horror movie. THIS is what Pinocchio as a horror movie should be like. A man-child of a puppet who uses his fellow toys to murder to get what he thinks he's owed. Could've done without him dry humping his desired "mommy".

So yeah, bottom line, little scary things works well for Christmas.

29.Cronos

28.All the Creatures were Stirring

27.Sint

26.The Lodge

25.Black Christmas (2019)

24.Body

23. A Nasty Piece of Work Not entirely sure what trying to get a promotion at work has to do with Christmas, but being stiffed your bonus and wanting to tell your out-of-touch boss how you really feel; the Clark Griswolds in all of us are pretty sure.

This is a fun, mean movie where you come away not liking anyone on purpose. Everyone has sold their soul in some capacity if not before the movie then certainly at the end. It's a bit cathartic.

Also, It's interesting seeing how this movie handles the reaction to the murder of a CEO at the end, especially given current events. Sweep it under the rug, not even the fellow executives are broken up at all at his passing? Everyone moves on? Ouch, guys. And no, being a literal girlboss solves nothing!

22.Red Snow

21.Pooka

20. The Sacrifice Game - Like if The Blackcoat's Daughter got interrupted by a slightly more capable version of the satanist cult from the Babysitter.

Honestly the first half of this movie was mostly what I thought it was going to be. A bleak movie where a lot of nice people suffer and die at the hand of a gang of psychopaths. Though the students were way younger than I thought they were going in, which was alarming.

Then the turn happened a little over halfway through and this became a very different movie. Yeah, when a demon is cooped up in the same place for literal decades, I can see it not caring as to who's loyal and who's not. Good child actor, too. And this movie kinda more or less had the ending I was expecting (hoping?) the Blackcoat's Daughter would have. So maybe I have a bias. Found family ftw?

19.Dead End

18 Terrifier 3 oh, you might be surprised how low the most recent movie is on here. Let's be real; these movie's mostly exist to show off the bloody effects. At least at the start. I do appreciate David Allen Thornton even now giving Art the Clown little bits of depth where he can. I genuinely believed he was super excited to meet Santa Claus. Also, hey sometimes if you're going to be mean, it's best to go full steam ahead. And you're either with it or you're not.

At first, it would seem weird putting the Empire Strikes Back of this franchise at Christmas. (Or any franchise for that matter). But given that Christmas was always meant to be that last big light before the dark times come again; it actually proves super apt given when Sienna is at by the end. Even Art's not looking too good.

I wonder what holiday Terrifier 4 would be set on? Halloween's been done. Valentine's wouldn't have a lot there. St. Patrick's Day only a little bit better. Easter could be a bit fun. Fourth of July would be a LOT of fun. Thanksgiving wouldn't really work with pretty much the whole family gone. We'll see.

17.Black Friday (2021)

16.Silent Night (2012)

15.It's a Wonderful Knife

14.Wind Chill

13.Christmas Bloody Christmas

12.Santa's Slay

11.The Children

10.Rare Exports

9.A Christmas Horror Story

8.Day of the Beast

7.Deadly Games

6.Silent Night (2021)

5.Christmas Evil

4.Krampus

3.Scrooged

2.Black Christmas (1974)

1.Gremlins

That's my list as it stands now. At least, I was able to complete something this year.

[chasinghalebopp]

The Ellen White Cult: Chapter 7

Part VII :: A New Mission

Could it really be the end? Could have I left that place and erased all that had happened from my mind? Could I reintegrate myself into whatever Adventism was after that? The reader must remember that this was the deepest into Adventism I had ever gotten. Sure, I had been to other churches, such as Deer Park. But Countryside had become a weekly ritual. During this time was when I studied the most. Like Stephen, Countryside touched me in ways that, frankly, should be illegal. Yet, I was also at fault. I dived in. I did it for a multitude of reasons. For my little girl, for my own salvation, and to live according to the life that I felt that I was “supposed to live.” Yet, I knew that this was not the way. Strangely, I did not know what the correct way was.

I was still suckling the words of Ellen White as if she had the truth for me. It

would be years before I would make the connection that she was largely at fault for the extremism. To be honest, at this point, the thought never occurred to me, and I continued to voraciously read her books, sometimes over and over again. I would walk through the Adventist Book Center and wonder why anyone even bothered reading anything else when there were volumes of work by a modern-day prophet to read. I know that I was not alone in this idea. When we moved to the coast we met another family who loved her in the same way. There were thousands, maybe tens of thousands of Adventists that saw Ellen White as the pinnacle of knowledge second only, and sometimes tied to the Bible.

When we finally combined all the DVDs that we had gathered over the last few months with the ones Stephen gave us, we must have had well over 100 DVDs. I began to sort them into sections, as I was interested in watching some of them. I had neglected to watch any secular entertainment at this time and instead figured that material with a religious message was automatically superior.

Some of the DVDs were deemed more worthy to watch than others. I had a stack of some from pastors that I was okay with learning about and some that were in the “no thanks pile” The DVDs about the poisoned water, chemtrails, and fluoride were a definite no. That one eventually ended up in a landfill. Actually, they all did. But a small percentage was digested first.

I would say that the vast majority of these DVDs were shut off after the first 20 or so minutes. It was easy to tell where they were going. It seemed that the pastors were more interested in hearing their own voices rather than preaching anything uplifting or of real substance. My curiosity sometimes would get the best of me, and some of the labels were vague enough to entice me.

Freddy and Darla had been Adventists for years. Freddy had been raised an Adventist, but his father was not the best role model (to say the least). As I watched DVDs and thought back to my time at Countryside, I was angry that they did not “know better than this,” I thought back to the seemingly gifted mind of Eric and how he could dive deep into the Bible and tell you endless things that you never could have imagined knowing. How could he not know better? What about the other kind people at Countryside who seemed to long after something better than the world had to offer? Some of these folks had been lifelong Adventists, too. How in the world could they be so deluded by the idea of a Jesuit world government? That shook me. It was something I still can’t wrap my head around. Compared to me, these people were spiritual giants. They should have been people I looked up to. I was learning just how little we all must know.

These individuals had been vocally interested and supportive of our work on the coast. Even though we were working under the umbrella of the Jesuit-controlled General Conference, they wanted to support us. It seemed like there was a cognitive dissonance here, as well. If you really believe something is so evil, how can you support it? I found that, as long as it was familiar and understandable, it can be supported, and is good. But it was the parts that were too complex, too distant, that was evil. It all boiled down to a fear of the world. Us versus them. An all-consuming need for control. Sometimes we would pop a DVD in while we were eating lunch. One day, for some strange reason, my wife and I were both feeling brave. We decided that we would give this Bill Hughes guy a chance. Strangely, I had never seen what he looked like, nor had I watched anything he had put out. I wanted to hear him speak, to understand how charismatic he was. We slid one of the discs into the player and began to watch the sermon.

This must have been Bill’s first Countryside rodeo because it was here that he introduced himself and gave his testimony. He didn’t waste any time jumping into it. He looked nothing like I had imagined. He was a smaller man, with a white mustache. He spoke very slowly, hoping that the audience would take in every word. He was not in a rush to tell his story. Like Albert, he used terms like “friends” and “brothers and sisters.” He tried to appear friendly. In later sermons that I witnessed, I saw that he would sometimes joke with people in the audience or say someone's name that he recognized. He looked frail. Kind of weak. Definitely at the edge of a strange and interesting life, but with enough steam to go on for a while still. I had heard he was being hunted down by the Jesuits, and that there was a bounty for his life. “Bill Hughes is in hiding,” Darla said. Yet, if he was in hiding, why did the Countryside website have all his

upcoming sermon dates listed?

Conspiracy and intrigue surrounded this man. A modern carnival barker of the fringe Adventist faith. Each word, calculated to bring one to a deeper fear of the world. Each word, calculated to instill a feeling of emptiness. Yet, those in the audience didn’t hear it like that. They loved him. Every conspiracy he peddled was a ray of hope to the people whose ears were wide open. Soon the Jesuits would strike, but God had their back. Before the stroke of death fell on these ancient listeners, God’s mighty hand would reach down and pick up these outcasts of society. As the Sunday law backfired on the rest of the world, these fringe folk would be ushered into a room full of white robes and hat racks lined with golden crowns. Jesus would fit each one with a shining hat loaded with stars and take them to a garden of everlasting glory. The rest of the world would perish in consuming fire. A beautiful message of hope. The hope in the coming of the Lord.

You can tell a person is in a bad mood by how they speak. This was true of Mr. Hughes as he began to tell his story of being removed from the Adventist church. Rather than accept a better position in exchange for giving up his Jesuit-obsessive sermons, he opted to become a martyr. He traded his cushy GC position for one of a rogue pastor. Yet, it was as a rogue pastor that he gained fame. That didn’t dispel the hatred he had for the conference, and he was hellbent on letting every church he visited know that he had been unjustly fired.

He was tense as the words spilled forth like hot irons from his jagged lips. His

voice cracked like an old whip as he let the words roll off his tongue. His accent

sounded almost southern. I was told he lived in Florida. Tax records show he is a pretty wealthy man. His ministry, “Truth Triumphant” rakes in enough to make a choir boy blush ten times over.

“They told me to stop. And I said, stop what? And they said you can have this job, but I need you to stop preaching the Three Angel’s messages. And, once they said that, I told them that I could not do that. And that was the end. I said, no. I can’t do that.” He seemed very perturbed, very annoyed, and vexed even. “I can’t stop preaching the Three Angel’s message*…”

*Note: The three angel’s messages, or the third angel’s message, is mentioned during every sermon at Countryside. The idea is that the remnant must warn the world about the Jesuits and how they are the whore of Babylon. “Come out of her my people.” Ellen White (who else?) was a huge proponent of preaching the third angel’s message. Strangely, few within the church can seem to agree what the message actually is. At Countryside Sabbath Fellowship, part of preaching the Third Angel’s Message was spreading every conspiracy possible about the Catholic church. This was also how Bill Hughes framed it in his books. Jesuits are the enemy.

“The Seventh-day Adventist church refuses to preach the third angel's message,

and that is why they are in apostasy” was the message. The third angel’s message, the one that Ellen White says is the creme de la creme of the message we are to take to the world, is one that the extremists and traditionalists love to claim a monopoly over. Yet, after months of going to Countryside and watching various sermons entitled “the third angel’s message,” I had no clue what the message actually was.

“You know why they removed the three angels from the Adventist logo*, don’t you? Do you know why they replaced it with an upside-down cross? The ecumenical symbol shows a burning bible! It's the cross of Satan. It’s Satanic.”

*Note: An older version of the Seventh-day Adventist logo previously pictured three angels with trumpets flying over the earth. This symbol has been replaced with a cross and fire coming out of a Bible. The Three Angels symbol is still heavily used at more traditional “offshoot” churches. The fact that this symbol has been replaced with a more modern symbol is part of the supposed proof that the Adventist church has clasped hands with Rome and is in Babylon along with all the other Christian denominations. It is “us versus them” thinking at its finest.

“Who did such a thing?”

I imagined Stephen hissing, “Jesuits!”

Of course. Those Jesuits in the church! The ones with nothing better to do than sink the Titanic.

The sermon continued with Bill Hughes outlining the wrongs committed against him, and how he found it within his heart to forgive them. From that moment, the sermon switched to a tirade about the General Conference being in deep apostasy. It was time to turn off the television. I had seen enough. What kind of drama was this? What strange world had I walked in on?

Before we left for Ukraine, not even two years ago, there was no sign of this kind of religion. Yet now, everything had quickly changed. Going to church to worship God had been replaced with a strange unrecognizable religion. It was dizzying. It was confusing. It was unreal. How the hell did you not know better? I wanted to grab Freddy and shake him, slap him, and ask “what in the world were you thinking?! Darla, why did you not stop this man?! Why didn’t you put your foot down before it got to this? How have you been so duped? What the hell happened?!?”

Many are reading this book now, and have been wondering why my view on religion drastically changed over the past few years. When I first arrived on the coast I was spiritually on fire. Mentally, I was not so different than these people. I emulated a lot of what I saw in the Countryside church. Looking back, I was an extremist, too. I truly thought that we had to attain perfection. I truly thought that we had to be ready for the end times at every moment, lest it caught us unaware. I believed that the Sunday law was coming soon. I would scour the news for signs. I am deeply embarrassed by the person I was at that time. I never understood how ugly it was making me. I would beat myself up for any failure. After reading Adventist Home and seeing how my life did not live up to the standard, I would beg God for forgiveness. I could never live up to Ellen White. But I needed to figure out how to.

On the coast, I had the expectation that those who I was called to serve should become like how I was to become. The native people ate fish and lived disorderly lives. They were not married to the people they had made children with. They didn’t come to church on Sabbath. Their children were rowdy and loud in church. Although they were friendly and I liked them a lot, they were not how God wanted them to be, and if I did not shape them it was going to be on me. Stars for my crown were hanging in the balance. If I could just get one star I would be accepted to enter Heaven. After all, Auntie Ellen said that every crown will at least have one star in it.

Mine still had zero.

“He seems angry,” I said. “…And vengeful. He says he’s not, but it’s there. It’s obvious.”

My wife agreed.

“This whole thing is wrong,” I said.

Yet, against that backdrop, Bill Hughes' fame was growing like wildfire at

Countryside.

“Guess who is coming to church this weekend?” Darla told my wife on the phone

as they talked.

“Who?” she asked.

“Bill Hughes!” Darla said, her voice cracking with excitement.

“Oh,” my wife said, trying to hide her disappointment. “His sermons are always so interesting. We have told him about you.”

I could not help but wonder what could have been said about us to the esteemed Bill Hughes. Why would he even care? He had bigger fish to contend with. We were just a couple of wayward conference missionaries.

Since we lived so close to the family, we made regular visits. The Spokane area was about eight to ten hours from us and it was nice to get away from the everyday. Our place on the coast was in a small town of around 275 people 40 miles from the nearest town. Forks was the closest town of any size, with the same population as Deer Park.

The next largest town was 70 miles to the south and that was Aberdeen and Hoquiam. The “twin harbors” were where we did most of our shopping.

We lived and worked in Queets. This little coastal tribal village features a gas station and a few tribal offices. It is located about a mile from the sea. The people of Queets largely survive off of fishing and many are also hunters. Guiding services are a huge source of income for Queetsters, as they like to call themselves. The little village consists of an upper and lower part The upper area is purely residential, with a senior center and a couple of cul-de-sacs of houses. The lower village is where the tribal center, Queets community center, senior center, and manufacturing plant are located. The church that we worked in is also in the lower village. Next door is a parsonage.

Living in Queets was new for us. As stated before, I had previously lived in

Seattle, New York, Kyiv, San Francisco, and a host of other very large cities. Being so immersed in cultures allowed me to not feel out of place at all in regard to native American culture. However, the biggest culture shock for me was living so removed from society. Therefore, I enjoyed driving east, even if it meant dealing with some of the things that I left behind.

When we arrived on one of our eastern Washington visits, we were made aware that Bill Hughes was in town and would be speaking at Countryside.

“This is the perfect chance for you to meet him!” Darla proclaimed.

My countenance fell.

“The church is always SO busy when he comes,” she added.

So busy, huh? we thought. The wheels in our heads were turning, and it seemed

like the perfect way to avoid a meeting. Even though we had taken our daughter

traveling all over with us, and even though she was incredibly adaptable, we knew she

did not like loud noises. Therefore, we decided that it was an easy way out for us.

“I don’t know if she would really like the noise. And we told her she would get to

see her little friends at Deer Park,” my wife said.

It was the perfect way out.

“That’s true. The church is always so full that people have to watch from the dining room,” Darla said.

It felt good to miss out on Bill Hughes’ lambasting the conference and going off on Jesuits. I pictured the little man in his lamb white hair waving his arms around and crying out the sins of the Jesuits, phlegm flying all about. I could just see his legions of devotees all crying out for more, taking notes, shouting amen, and accosting the pastor for news about when Bill Hughes would return.

I pictured Eric’s father miraculously rising and proclaiming, “If this is where my tithe goes, sign me up for double. No! Triple!”

When we visited the in-laws, we enjoyed cooking. We were rushing about in the kitchen making some kind of enchilada dish when the in-laws arrived. The sun was going down and their two dogs were going crazy underfoot.

“Freddy, take them for a walk so they can use the bathroom,” Darla said (they would not go to the bathroom on their own, which seems almost Adventist in itself). As we layered the sauce and cheese onto the enchiladas, we were told how the sermon was “very interesting.”

“Did you know that the holocaust was actually caused by the Jesuits? Bill

Hughes talked all about it today.”

I rolled my eyes.

“He had so much to say. It was so powerful.”

“We should invite Stephen for dinner,” my wife said, trying to change the subject.

We liked to invite him, as he was family.

I wondered if Stephen would want to eat cheese. I thought back to how Darla

recently told me about how his sister brought up pizza and they got into a fight about Ellen’s rules of eating cheese.

“We are NOT supposed to be eating cheese,” he shouted. Not being the type to back down, she called him a “stumbling block.” He did not take that well. The rest is a family legend.

The daughter in question was raised an Adventist and left it behind when she moved out. She was not the only one. While both sons were Adventists, out of four girls, only my wife was active in the church. One of the girls was agnostic and seemed uninterested in religion for the most part. The oldest girl in the family, Anna, was in and out of the church, but never committed.

I wondered what their childhood religion looked like. I thought back to how my wife told me about the other Bill Hughes church that fell apart. What kind of childhood do children have when they are raised in that kind of nonsense? I wondered. Later, when I would scour the Reddit Ex-Adventist message board, I would read all about broken adults that had been abused by ultra-zealous parents who believed in following Auntie Ellen to the letter and listening to power-crazed pastors like Hughes and his ilk. Imagine being able to draw a crowd like that. How is it that God bestows such a blessing on those who preach conspiracy? How many people has Bill Hughes brought to Christ? How fruitful has my ministry been? Bill Hughes can fill a church almost effortlessly. Back in Queets, getting people to come to church is hard. Some weeks we have no one. Who am I to question God? God has raised up these pastors for His mighty work. Ellen White says so.

Trying to make sense of Bill Hughe’s message and popularity was a form of mental gymnastics. Trying to make sense of it under the umbrella of Ellen White’s writings made it even worse.

“He’s such a kind man,” we were told by one of the Countryside congregants. “He’s even better in person!”

It didn’t make any sense. Here he was preaching straight from Ellen White. He must be chosen by God! Ellen White says we can’t question our pastors and leaders. We must follow and obey. God has hand-picked them for a very special purpose. Everyone but my wife and I seem to see it.

Maybe he isn’t as spiteful and vengeful as he seemed in that sermon we

watched. Maybe we watched it with the wrong spirit? Could we have been too critical? Maybe I should watch some more YouTube videos of him preaching?

I watched some more of his videos but quickly found the same critical person trying to proclaim he had been wronged by a church that was in deep apostasy. The Jesuits were destroying the world behind the scenes and the church was in on it. He seemed angry, and vengeful, and demanded that we all figure out how to become perfect before the fast-approaching time of trouble. They spoke about him as if he was their idol. Ellen White, Bill Hughes, Daniel & Revelation, and then the rest of the Bible. Jesus’ name was mentioned only in passing.

Later on, we were resting in the back bedroom. I was silently reflecting on the changes that life had brought us. At that moment I heard a rustling in the front of the house. The sound was frantic, as the door busted open and both of my wife’s parents rushed into the house. They had been outside talking to someone who had driven up. Darla rushed to the back while Freddy was tearing through papers in the front. He called Darla. His voice was heavy. I could tell he was out of breath and frantic.

“Where are they?” he shouted.

“I am getting them!” Darla said. “They are back here!”

“What?” he said, unable to hear Darla over the sound of his frantic searching.

What could they be looking for, I wondered.

Darla came rushing out of her bedroom, which was right next to the room we were resting in. “I found them!” she said.

I looked out the door and saw her carrying some of Bill Hughes’ books in her hand. She held them up and rushed down the hall towards the front of the house. “I said

I have them!” she said, having noticed that Freddy was still rustling through everything in his way.

“The Bill Hughes ones?” he snapped.

“Yes,” she said. “Give them to her,” she added, pushing them towards Freddy. He grappled at them and made his way out to the driveway. 

It was quiet once again. A frantic search for witnessing materials came to a

hushed close. Later we were filled on the event. A woman who was looking for a nearby house for rent had asked for directions. After a little friendly visit, Darla and Freddy found out that she was interested in learning more about Jesus. The first book to come to enter their mind was “The Enemy Unmasked.” What a way to share the risen Christ!

The woman would make her way to her home, open up this book, and learn all about Jesus through the eyes of a madman going off on the Jesuit infiltration. I silently pondered the idea of witnessing Christ through mindless anti-Jesuit propaganda. Sadly, many Seventh-day Adventists will have no issue with such a book being handed out to spread the gospel message. Although Christ says “Peace is what I leave with you,” the message has been turned into one of fear. “Be afraid. Teach fear.” Another fallacy in the teaching. The message is not to bring one to Christ, it is “get others to think as we do.” It is scary if others think differently. We must have the same fears to feel confident that we

have the truth.

Back on the coast, our supervising pastor wanted to meet with us. We discussed some of what was happening with Countryside. He identified it as an offshoot right away. He let us know that his church had been split by an offshoot very recently and that much damage had been done. I shared how the people at Countryside appeared so kind. The pastor said, “they will be nice to you as long as you think like them. But once they know you don’t agree with you, it will be the end of it all.” At the time he did not tell me that this was the case with religion in general. I would find that out much later. But I was nowhere near that point yet. In my mind, I did not expect them to ever find out that I thought differently. I had been silent this long, and I could keep it up forever if I needed to. There was no reason for me to say that I didn’t think as they did. Rather, my desire was to show them that I loved them and that we had some common ground. Christ was the common ground. That’s at least what I hoped deep in my heart. I was courting both worlds, and I didn’t realize just how dangerous of a game that was.

Perhaps my inaction was a form of deception in itself. Maybe I should have said something and parted ways. Yet, with in-laws being involved and the inner mental dilemmas that I was dealing with, it was hard for me to think about part ways just yet. I had heard about the dangers of extremist offshoot groups more and more from people in the church at this point. For my first decade in Adventism, I had never heard a word about extremism. Now, as a missionary, it was starting to pop up a little. But never in sermons. No, it was never talked about at the potluck table or during a regular sermon. It was almost as if the general population was not privy to it. Only when I was a missionary did I start to hear about these matters.

I had heard a story of Shepherd’s Rod* members telling Native Americans that in order to be saved, they would have to become vegan and give up all meat. This was from a literal belief in Ellen White and worked to push many native people away from Adventism. Strangely archaic and arbitrary dietary restrictions within this group has precedence over the following verse: “As for the one who is weak in faith, welcome him, but not to quarrel over opinions. One person believes he may eat anything, while the weak person eats only vegetables. Let not the one who eats despise the one who abstains, and let not the one who abstains pass judgment on the one who eats, for God has welcomed him. Who are you to pass judgment on the servant of another? It is before his own master that he stands or falls. And he will be upheld, for the Lord is able to make him stand. One person esteems one day as better than another, while another esteems all days alike. Each one should be fully convinced in his own mind.” Romans

14:1-23

Note: Shepherd’s Rod is yet a very traditional “hardcore” SDA offshoot (the SDA church attracts them like flies to poop). Like numerous offshoots, they are strict followers of Ellen White. Ellen was a huge proponent of an animal-free vegan diet. Many Adventists do not realize that White struggled with eating meat while telling others that they would need to give up meat. Many Adventists refuse to acknowledge that Ellen White ate herring and oysters throughout her life while saying that it was the duty of Adventists and Christ-followers to not touch meat or anything unclean. Ellen’s vegan message is huge in extremist branches of Adventism, with the health message being pushed and peddled like snake oil during the days of yore.

During this period of my life, I focused on reading Ellen White, the Bible, and working through the Daniel & Revelation study I was given. I preached a couple of sermons at the Forks church. These were on the merits of Ellen White, and I took cues from the way Albert and the people in the DVDs spoke. I referred to Ellen White as Sister White. I was legalistic. The small Forks congregation seemed to thoroughly enjoy my sermons and messages. Nothing negative was said about them, and I was invited to preach again.

During this time of life, I eschewed secular movies and so-called worthless

literature. I believed that the only use of my time that was valuable was in search of Biblical knowledge and deep study of Ellen White’s prophetic writings. I felt that my daughter was in danger of being influenced by other children who were interested in makeup or watching secular cartoons. While my daughter watched a few secular cartoons, we made sure to thoroughly vet them. During Halloween, we fretted that she would be corrupted by the youth of the village and that she would one day want to participate.

After a year and a half of living in Queets, I had decided I wanted to teach, as I felt woefully unprepared and unfit for the work in the village. I felt that as a teacher at an Adventist school, I would have a team I could work with and lean on. I also desired to live in a larger city again. I was now working on a master’s degree in TESOL and I wanted to put that degree to work. Therefore, I applied to work at an Adventist school, “Nile Union Academy” in Cairo, Egypt. I immediately got an email back expressing a strong desire for us to go teach. From that moment on, we made plans to prepare to go to Egypt. It would be a few months still before we would leave.

I had mixed feelings about leaving Queets. There was much that was nice about living on the coast. As we locked the door for the last time and left the keys on the counter, I looked back at the house and thought that there would be things that I would miss dearly about it and this place. I knew that I would one day come again to visit, but that period of life was over. I was thrilled to be going to Egypt. Starting a new adventure in life was what I needed to put all the insanity well behind me.

[if-you-feel-lonely]

GINGERBREAD HOUSES WITH SCHLATT I BEG OF YOU!!

ask and you shall receive :D can be seen as platonic or romantic!! it's not meant to be romantic, but you can perceive it however you like ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Lonely's Advent Calendar - Day Two!

Prompt: Gingerbread houses

TW: Swearing, mild sexual joke

Event masterlist (discontinued)

"Build a gingerbread house on stream" they said. "It'll be fun!" they said.

They lied. They lied so so so much.

"That looks like shit." Schlatt said blandly.

"Oh my god, shut up, this isn't about you." You replied in a fake, exaggerated, angry tone. You looked at the camera with a deadpan look on your face. "Men, am I right? All about them." You sighed dramatically.

In all fairness, he wasn't wrong. The walls were falling to bits and the icing was incredibly smudged. From all the failed attempts at trying to fix it, the house had become more icing than gingerbread.

"That's me at midnight on the first of December," he grinned, earning a loud smack on the back of the head.

"What would Pope Francis say?" you shook your head at him, still trying to fix the monstrosity that was your current gingerbread house.

Said cardboard figure had been temporarily stationed in the kitchen. Schlatt turned to him with a thousand-yard stare.

"I've been thinking," you began.

He swiftly cut you off. "Don't hurt yourself."

"I'll hurt you in a second, if you keep this up." You glared at him playfully. "But I've been thinking, and I now have a plan, and a very good one at that."

You began to enact your plan whilst he watched in a mix of fear, judgement and confusion. The walls no longer stood tall - now fallen over to lean on each other, with the roof pieces been broken into two pieces each. Then came the strawberry laces that were haphazardly thrown over the gingerbread men, which all had a variety of clothing. One had a poor recreation of Charlie's first merch hoodie, one had Tommy's signature red and white shirt, and the final one was split in half, black and white with no added details.

"What is this scene?" He asked, laughing.

"Gas explosion." You deadpanned, staring into his eyes. "Not everybody gets a good Christmas, Schlatt."

"What's wrong with you?"

[shawtygonemad]

Fanfic Advent Calendar 2022 - Day 23/24: Sweet Substitute

Jimmy McGill/Saul Goodman x Reader

Angst & Mild 🌶Spicy Sauce🌶

Prompt: "You've got whipped cream on your *insert favorite body part*."

Advent Calendar Masterlist

The warm air hit my face as I exited the car. Fifty degrees on Christmas Eve still felt weird to me. However, seeing the bare ground made me yearn for the snow of Washington, where I grew up. Very rarely have I ever seen snow in Albuquerque. The feeling of the cold wetness could almost be felt on my face if I closed my eyes. Next year I'll have to take Saul back home to experience it with me.

Speaking of, I needed to pick up his Christmas gift from the office. You'd think this would be the last place I'd hide a gift since he's here almost everyday. Luckily, I had the perfect place for it. Just as I was unlocking the front door, my phone rang. It was the man himself.

"Hello?" I spoke into the phone as I opened the door and stepped inside, quickly turning off the alarm system.

"Hey! Where are you at?" Saul's soothing voice came through the speaker.

"I had to run to the office to pick up your gift," I replied.

"You hid it at the office?! Where?" He asked surprised.

"The last place you'd look," I chuckled as I rounded the front counter.

"Francesca's desk," he sighed in defeat.

"Bingo!" I happily cheer at his correct answer.

I picked up the wrapped box from the drawer and set it on the counter.

"Hey, while you're there would you be able to grab my briefcase? I left it on my desk. Oh! And my work phone. See if we got any messages on it."

"You want me to work on Christmas Eve?" I narrowed my eyes.

"No! But you know we have some high profile clients that tend to call at all hours," Saul chuckled.

"I am not letting Walter White ruin our Christmas together," I stated.

"He won't, I promise. Now hurry up and bring your perky little ass home to me. I have a surprise for you," He trailed off with lust entering his voice.

"Yeah?" I purred while letting my voice dip into a sultry tone. "I'll be quick then."

I hung up as excitement started to swirl within me. Saul always know the right things to say to me. He treated me right. Something I could never say about anyone until now. Plus that man was an amazing lover. He always got off on getting me off. I needed to hurry so I could get home to him.

Briskly, I entered his office. The briefcase was on his desk, as he said. The phone, however, was a bit of a challenge to track down. It wasn't in the usual places he left it. Thankfully, a soft buzzing sound could be heard through the silence. I followed the noise to a discarded suit jacket haphazardly tossed on the couch. It was still buzzing as I pulled it out. The caller ID made my heart still. Kim Wexler.

Saul's ex-wife. I've been friends with Saul a long time. Back when he went by Jimmy McGill. So I was around for the time period he and Kim were on again off again. Personally, I didn't think she was good for Jimmy. But that could just be my own feelings talking.

I've always had a thing for the man and was beyond thrilled when he wanted to start hooking up. I thought he reciprocated my feelings. Unfortunately, every time Kim came back into the picture, I was tossed aside. It had become very clear to me that I was the rebound. The substitute for the woman he was really in love with. I called things off with him until he finally decided what he really wanted. Unfortunately, Kim made that decision for him when she moved away to start her own firm separate from Jimmy's.

I was there to pick up the pieces of his heart she had left shattered behind. He was a wreck and had no one there to help piece him together besides me. During that time, I guess Jimmy realized that I was truly the only one there for him. He claimed that he wanted no one else but me. So we gave it another shot, and things have been happy ever since. Until now.

When I gathered the courage to answer the phone, it was already too late and went to the voice-mail. With gritted teeth and a new angry fire within, I listened to the voice-mail. What the hell could she possibly have left to say after breaking this man's heart. She has another thing coming if she thinks he'll just come running right back to her.

"Hey Jimmy! I'm just returning your call. I'd love to have lunch with you on Monday. Though noon doesn't work for me, so how about 1:30? Call me back."

My heart sank. Returning your call. He was the one who had reached out to her first. He was setting up a lunch date with her. Why? Why would he do this? I thought we were happy. Everything had been going so well between us and with the law firm! Why am I never good enough for him? What the hell does Kim Wexler have that I don't?

Angst soured my mood as I got into the car and drove to our shared apartment. Tears flowed down my cheeks as I tried to come up with something to say to him. After everything I've done for him, he still runs back to her. Well, that was the last time I'll ever piece him back together. I will no longer allow this man to use me and toy with my feelings. It's over.

A muffled sob left my lips when the thought crossed my mind. I didn't want it to be over. It had been so good. I loved this man more than I have with anyone else. But I had to do this. I couldn't keep living this way. I deserved to be with someone who wanted me, always and forever.

I wiped the tears away when I parked the car. A deep breath heaved through my chest before I put on a stone cold face. I'm going to go up there, pack, and tell him it's over. Nothing will change my mind. Not even his cute little puppy dog eyes he likes to use when I'm upset with him. My mind has been made up.

My legs felt like cinder blocks as I drug myself up to our apartment. After another breath, I unlocked the door and stepped inside. I tried my best not to look at the pictures of us happily together that littered the walls. My mind couldn't be changed. This needed to be done.

Soft Christmas music could be heard from the bedroom. A faint yellow glow was seen through the cracked doorway. My anger flaired again as I was reminded that it was Christmas Eve. How dare he put me through this today of all days. My favorite holiday was about to be ruined.

I flung the hall closet open and grabbed my suitcase from the top shelf. Aggressively, I pulled it down to me with a huff. The noise must have caught Saul's attention.

"Y/N?" He called softly from the bedroom.

I ignored him as I burst through the door with my suitcase in hand. Tossing it open on the floor, I started to briskly walk through the room and grab anything I saw of mine. Without caring, I tossed it into the open case of the floor.

"Y/N? What's wrong?" He asked slightly concerned.

I spun around to tell him off. Before speaking, I took in the situation. Saul must have planned for a spicy night in with the music, glow of the candles, and the fact that he was nude on the bed. His soft cream skin was in full view. Those brown curly chest hairs I loved to lay my head upon. And my favorite part of him was still standing up in salute. A salute that was coated in foreign white substance.

"You've got whipped cream on your dick," I said blankly before turning back around to the task at hand.

I couldn't look at him. If I did, then the chances of me caving in were to rise. I needed to stay strong. The bed springs could be heard as Saul got up from the bed and approached me.

"Why are you packing? Where are you going?" Saul asked, getting more nervous the more I packed.

"I think we both know the answer to that," I snapped.

"No, I don't. Mind filling me in?" His concerned voice started to get a hint of annoyance in it.

"I'm just making things easier for you, so you'll have nothing to worry about when you have lunch with Kim on Monday. She says that noon doesn't work for her and that 1:30 will be better," I spat.

A deep sigh left the man as he pinched his index finger and thumb against the bridge of his nose. No doubt a headache was starting to form for him.

"Y/N, it's not what it sounds like," he tried to reason.

"No, I think it sounds exactly like it is," I growled as I turned to face him. "She's back in your life and you're just going to toss me to the side."

"Would you stop jumping to conclusions for once!" He shouted in frustration. "It's not like that anymore. You're the only one I want."

"Then what are you doing getting lunch with her then, hmm?"

"To sign the divorce papers."

That caught me off guard. I blinked at him in shock.

"What?"

"She never signed the divorce papers when she left. When I heard she'd be in town, I figured this would be the perfect time to have her sign them. I'd be a free man." He hesitated before grabbing my hands in his and looking me in the eyes. "I'd be able to be with you completely. And if one day we want to tie the knot, then we wouldn't have any issues."

"So you're not leaving me?" My voice quivered.

"No. I promise I'm never leaving you again. You're the only one I want. I love you, Y/N."

I was stunned, to say the least. He did this all for us, for me? I just didn't know what to say. I loved this man so much and am relieved it wasn't what I feared. He really did change. I'm speechless. So I said, and did, the only thing that impulsively came to mind.

"You're getting whipped cream all over the carpet," I told him as I locked eyes with him.

Very slowly, without breaking eye contact, I sunk down to my knees. Saul was confused at first since we were in the middle of what he assumed was a fight. Everything clicked, and his eyes rolled back in pleasure when I licked a strip up the side of his dick.

"I'm sorry for overreacting, and almost ruining Christmas," I quietly said in between licks.

"Mmhh, I'm sorry... for mm... making you feel that way," Saul panted in pleasure.

I smiled as I took him completely in my mouth and hummed at the sweet and salty taste of the dissolving whipped cream.

This was just the first of the many new Christmas memories we'd have together in the future.

[givelightningherharem]

duuude it bugs me so much that people are somehow still convinced that lightning is just a female cloud even tho they have completely different backstories and motivations. every time ive seen anyone make that argument they always intentionally misinterpret both lightnings and clouds stories just to justify shitting on ffxiii and its SUPER annoying to see as a fan of both xiii and vii asjfdfg

Smth I’ve noticed about people who’ve made that argument as well is that almost all of them never played ffxiii or they dropped the game super early that they never got to see Lightning’s character development. So they mostly just say that to hop on the “hate ffxiii/hate lightning” bandwagon, or just so they can make their bias seem superior.

But smth for both Cloud and Lightning that I’ve seen that bugs me, is people calling them emo. Cloud and Lightning are the farthest from that. Starting with Cloud, since I’ve never played the og 7, and my only Cloud experiences that don’t involve remakes are advent children and crisis core(which cloud definitely ISNT emo in, he’s bby in that game) my main Cloud experience comes from myself playing the remake.

I have yet to finish that game, but the vibe I get from Cloud is that he’s definitely p shut off. But he’s just as awkward and as passionate about things when need be. Of all things to call Cloud, emo personally isn’t what I’d use, but that’s just me 😭😭 he’s gone through shit, and that’s affected him, but he’s not as stone cold as people would make him out to be.

Lightning is the same as Cloud in the fact that she’s also had it rough. Growing up and all that. Before talking about the main events in the game, in flashbacks, and in the novel, Lightning seems to be very genuine and in tune with certain people she knows. Her thoughts are definitely very loud and expressive too.

In the game, when meeting the rest of the characters, Lightning is shut off, but it’s justified when given the situation, and these are strangers after all. She has her own agenda, and having more people with her is just a obstacle. Losing Serah makes her more,,,destructive. Not to mention becoming a l’cie herself, Lightning’s attitude is justified in a sense, even tho she does wrongfully lash out often.

But her character development does come much sooner than one would think. Starting with with Hope onwards you can see Lightning open up so much, accepting these strangers and Snow as allies, and eventually as a family. She’s much warmer , much more talkative, she even has her moments of humor. I don’t see people talk about her development enough. It irks me whenever I see people portray Lightning as this permanently angry individual, who hates everyone and everything ((and who wants Snow to die. She doesn’t. He just annoyed the hell out of her at first, but Lightning never genuinely wished death upon him, what are u people smoking. She comes to accept him and his engagement to Serah, literally as time passes she comes to see him as a brother.)) and that don’t take into account that that isn’t how she is. She grows stronger, is more in tune with herself, and becomes the perfect leader for the group.

So sure, one could say Lightning and Cloud ARE similar in a sense that they’ve both gone through tough shit (what final fantasy protag HASNT gone through tough times tho??) and stretch it out a bit by adding they were both a soldier at one point. But you’re grasping straws by immediately chucking them into the “emo” category and calling it a day, because now you’re completely disregarding their development and the way their characters are written.

[quietlyimplode]

Clintasha Advent - Day 1 - Weather

Heat.

(Gif not mine)

The sun beats down, hot and humid as Clint feels sweat dripping down his back.

It’s making his shirt cling to him in all the uncomfortable ways. He sees the tin shed up ahead, and adjusts his backpack glad that the way point is nearby.

The ground is hard, as he marks the longitudinal points and sends the distress call up on his sat phone.

He has no idea what state he’s going to find her in and as he opens the door, he’s not sure he’s quite prepared.

A gun is pressed to his neck, as he enters the door.

“Hello,” he greets.

The safety clicks off and he rolls his eyes.

“Suck it up, Natasha, I know you’re angry at me, but I’m the one that’s here.”

He pauses, not sure if it’s the right tack to take but considering it’s the one he’s started with, he continues with it.

“Let me be here, let me help, and be angry at me later, okay?”

The press of the gun releases from his sweaty skin and he finally turns to face her.

“I called Maria,” she rasps, “not you.”

He shrugs.

“I know. Maria sent me, I was closer and your situation seemed…” he looks her up and down again, “dire.”

She sways on the spot.

He drops his bag, and hands over a bottle of water, he’s sure she has heat stroke.

Heat exhaustion at the least.

Both things he’s sure she’ll never treat herself for and try to power through. It’s dangerous.

She takes the bottle and makes him walk ahead of her, and opens it and downs the water, almost desperately.

“How’d you get caught out here?” He asks, sitting on the chair.

“How’s you find me?” She asks.

He looks at her strangely, as she pushes the magazine out of the gun and sets it on the table.

“You sent the distress message to Maria,” he pauses, “do you remember?”

She doesn’t.

He goes to put a hand on her head and she catches his arm.

“Don’t touch me,” she growls.

“Are you hot?” He ignores her hostility, worried that she’s disoriented and repeating herself. He can feel it almost radiating off her.

“I’m mad at you,” she says, a question note in the air.

“You’re mad at me,” he confirms.

He can see how hard she’s working at keeping her breaths even, that even as she talks, there’s an air of breathlessness about it.

His worry deepens.

“Does the shower work here?”

She points to the back. He gestures back, motioning for her to go.

She shakes her head and he nods.

“No,” she says. “No.”

He passes over another bottle of water.

She goes to grab for it, and he moves it away.

“Shower first,” he demands.

“I hate you,” she states, but it’s better than silent treatment.

“Hate me in the shower,” he says, grabbing the water and peering in first.

Begrudgingly, she follows him.

He turns the shower on cool, waiting for the boiling water to run through the taps.

“Ok,” he motions.

Natasha strips in front of him, looking him dead in the eyes, a challenge, he supposes, not taking the bait. Her skin is flushed as he takes her all in.

She clumsy in her actions, and as grabs at the sides of the shower to steady herself, he settles down on the floor.

“How’s you get stuck out here?” He asks, conversationally.

Clint looks at her leaning, head against the cool shower wall.

He takes her silence as noncompliance and picks the dirt from his nails.

“Clint.”

He looks up to the sound of his name, just in time to see her fold.

“I don’t feel so well,” she groans, her voice pitiful.

Opening the door and pulling her out, he wraps her in a towel, and sits her between his legs.

She pushes against him slightly, and moans out something he doesn’t understand before vomiting over his leg.

“Shit.”

He hauls her upright, her wet back against his chest. It’s mostly watery bile.

She clearly hasn’t eaten anything.

“Nat,” he rubs her chest with his knuckles over the towel, rousing her, “you’re ok. Come on drink this.”

He leans back slightly, pressing the Gatorade he bought in to her lips. She accepts it without talking and then coughs, almost aspirating. Fatigue seems to take her as she molds her body into his.

The heat is pervasive and with bodies pressing against each other it just feels sticky and is perhaps detrimental to her current situation. He feels just how hot she is.

“More,” he prompts, igniting the shake of her head.

“I’m mad at you,” she groans, leaning against him.

“Yeah, yeah, I know,” he sighs.

.

Later, when Natasha is asleep, sweat making a sheen on her skin; Clint watches over her.

His expectations are so low for how the morning will go, whether she will hold onto her anger or let it pass. Exfil will be there soon, he hopes. She needs rehydration and to be debriefed.

Clint sits back, closes his eyes and hopes for the best.

.

Prompt taken from this list. :)