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inkstainedheartbeats · 7 months ago

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When Steve was little, when Papa Otis was alive and Uncle Theodore was around, he knew he was loved. His mother would run fingers through his hair, sing softly as they danced in the kitchen. Papa Otis would let him help in the kitchen, Uncle Theodore would play the piano. His father loved him too, he thinks, though it was usually shown through cleaning guns and shooting cans in the back yard.

He knew his family was different from the others. That the revolving door of cousins who often stank of gunpowder wasn’t what everyone else knew. Carol certainly didn’t, though father didn’t like him hanging out with her too much. Tommy and the other Hagan boys were acceptable friends. Papa Otis put his foot down about the Carver’s though. Said there was more crazy in that family than a five pound bag filled with ten pounds of crickets. Neither he nor Tommy really got that but mom nodded her head so it was Law.

When Steve was six something happened to Uncle Theodore. He doesn’t remember much. Not like he remembers the piano lessons. Papa Otis and father argued and screamed. The cousins who stank of gunpowder were split, more than half on father’s side. He vaguely remembers Uncle Theodore coming into his room one night. Pressed a kiss to his forehead and said he’d miss Steve. And then he was gone. Later he would learn that Uncle Theodore had fallen in love with a demon. Had made a pact with him so they could be together longer than any mortal would otherwise stay. He would learn that his father was willing to kill his younger brother.

He’s nine when Papa Otis dies. And on the one year anniversary of his death his father takes him on a hunt. Something small, his father had said. Someone you won’t know. His mother and father had dealt with the parents, the ones who broke the Law. Silver bullets can end most Preternatural folk. But the kid, older than him but still so scared, was left for him. Steve remembers the weight of the gun, the stench. He remembers throwing down his gun and how it misfired almost hitting his father. The kid had fled, ran like a hellhound was behind him. And his father beat the shit out of him for it.

At the time he thought that would be the worst thing to ever happen to him. And then monsters came out of walls and ceilings. Dogs had flower mouths and a desire to eat the children he claimed in that moment as his. His father would hate that most of them had at least an eighth of Preter blood in them. Then a monster of melted people and Russians with mean right hooks had tried to kill him.

Gained Robin in that last one, though. He thinks that’s a win. Gained a Pack who loved him. Big brothers, two, a big sister, two little siblings not counting Robin. He is her and she is him. Connected in a way that Changed ones never are with the Biter.

“He’ll kill me,” he had told Robin remembering the arguments. There is no Papa Otis to defend him. To offer to send him away. Just his mother with gun calloused fingers and dead eyes.

“Good thing he never comes back, then,” Robin had said, a promise of protection in her voice.

And then Chrissy Cunningham dies. Nightmares and bloody noses and a cursed pup. Flying monsters with tails that choke and teeth that bite.

“You… you gotta… gotta promise me. Keep… keep ‘em safe?”

Because Steve knew Eddie would protect the pups like he would. That Eddie understood. Like knows like in that regard. Eddie ‘the freak’ Munson was a Birthed vampire with eyes that saw more than Steve had cared for before. If Eddie promises maybe he could sink down into the comforting dark. He’d see his Papa Otis again.

Pain. Gods so much pain and there’s blood in his mouth. He can’t scream. He wants to scream. Fire. There’s fire in his blood.

“Steve!”

Robin! That’s Robin. Robin’s hand in his. Her snarl in his ears. And then peace.

—//—//—//—

Tagging @lawrencebshoggoth

Part three of this find part four here

#inkstained rambles #stranger things #steve harrington #eddie munson #Twice Changed Preter AU #Steve isn’t dead!#just in a serious amount of pain #No character death I promise!

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roping-riding-wrangling · 8 months ago

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Bennie and the Jets

“Y/n” he says with that tone. The same tone he used to tell you that your family dog Tammy had been hit by a car. The same tone he used when your mother died.

“Dad, what's wrong?”

He pulls you to sit with him on the plastic chairs.

“I got a call from the police. Benny, he…he was found dead this morning”

Your hand flies to your face. Your dad’s hand rubs comforting circles on your back as you try to catch your breath.

One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten

Over and over you count to ten until you find your voice again, “What happened?”

Previous Part

summary: Y/n's day goes from bad to worse as she suffers caffeine withdrawals, finds out her boss is dead, and almost gets into a car accident.

Words: 3k

Warnings: Newby!reader, death, mentions of suicide, brief mention of dead dog, swearing, ANGST, reader ignoring her emotions™

Sleep has a firm grip on you in the early morning. After last night, you got home to find your dad already asleep. You hadn’t taken your uniform off before you crashed onto your bed. You dreamt of milkshakes and volleyballs and little girls with tattoos. The alarm wakes you violently, and violently you react. You smash the thing until it stops beeping, groaning when you hear it five minutes later. You shoot up and rip the chord from the wall, effectively silencing the machine. Already up, you figure that you might as well get ready for the day.

You go to make your pot of coffee, reaching for the jar where you keep the grinds. “Fuck” you softly whisper. In the chaos of yesterday, you forgot to get more coffee. You glance at your watch.

Fuck.

There's not enough time to run to the store to get more coffee before practice. You leave a note for your dad and grab the last can of coke from the fridge, hoping it gives you enough energy to make it through the day.

The ride to school is quiet. The sun hasn’t quite risen, casting the town of Hawkins in an eerie gray light. The leaves are just starting to fall, some of them already barren. The heat in your truck hasn’t worked since last year and you can see your breath as you drive. The cold this morning is extra bitter. Sleep lingers in your eyes as you make the winding drive, forgoing the cassette to listen to the radio. You park as the sun begins to peek over the horizon. Standing outside your car, you let the light wash over your closed eyes for a minute, taking in the stillness.

You’ve always preferred sunrises to sunsets. There’s something about the world coming out of darkness that calls to you. Everything is a little less hopeless in the daylight.

You feel someone’s eyes on you. Your gaze darts across the parking lot before landing on none other than Steve Harrington. He stares at you from a few cars down quizzically. You’re too tired to dignify his staring in any meaningful way, offering the smallest tilt of your lip in acknowledgement. You turn back to the sun, ignoring the way he continues to stare at you.

You let yourself enjoy the last few seconds of sunrise before you go inside.

––––

It turns out the coke was not enough to get you through the day. It’s fourth period when you feel your eyelids drooping. The pre-calc lesson is not nearly intriguing enough to warrant you staying awake. You’re roused from your almost-slumber by a gentle tap on your shoulder. Carol, a folded paper in her hand, gestures for you to pass the note to Hannah, who sits in front of you. The paper moves along, and for a minute you wonder if Carol even knows your name.

She’s part of the popular crowd and you tell yourself that it doesn’t matter what she thinks of you. Then the thought hits you: does she even think of you at all. Do any of the popular kids even think about anyone but themselves? Are they so wrapped up in their own bubble that they can even perceive their peers?

As it turns out, normal kids can be perceived by the holier-than-thou popular kids. Next to your locker, Carol congregates with Tommy, Steve, and Nancy, who has seemingly joined their crew through her connection to Steve. It's hard not to overhear them as they gossip about Jonathan Byers.

The parking lot incident had long since been forgotten as you listen to Steve and Tommy joke about Will.

“I bet he killed him”

Their crude speculation brings a scowl to your face. How dare they speak about Jonathan like that when he’s clearly trying to find his brother. Anger pools in your stomach and you pull out your books faster, eager to avoid listening to this bullshit. Suddenly Nancy’s gentle voice pipes up, “Should we say something?”

You’re suddenly grateful that you’re facing your locker, as you’re sure the shock from hearing her defend him is written all over your face. You peak over your shoulder to see her approach Jonathan. You can’t hear the short discussion, but Jonathan purses his lips and nods at her. She walks back and you and Jonathan make eye contact.

It’s heartbreaking how terrible he looks. He’s even more disheveled than normal, hair unbrushed, eyes puffy and sunken in. You give him a small nod and a look that you hope he reads as “I’m sorry and good luck”

He leaves.

–––

Fifth period is just as brutal as the last. You had just nodded off for the third time when the secretary opens the classroom door. All eyes turn to her as she calls for you to join her in the hallway.

The walk to the office is silent as you run through every scenario of why you would possibly be called up. The secretary opens the door for you to see your dad waiting for you.

“Y/n” he says with that tone. The same tone he used to tell you that your family dog Tammy had been hit by a car. The same tone he used when your mother died.

“Dad, what's wrong?”

He pulls you to sit with him on the plastic chairs.

“I got a call from the police. Benny, he…he was found dead this morning”

Your hand flies to your face. Your dad’s hand rubs comforting circles on your back as you try to catch your breath.

One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten

Over and over you count to ten until you find your voice again, “what happened?”

“Buddy, I don’t think-”

“Dad, what happened”

“He shot himself”

“Oh”

One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten

One, two, three, fo–

“Buddy, the police want to talk to you, ask you a couple questions about Benny. I’m gonna take you down to the station. When we’re done we can go home.”

One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten

“Ok”

You walk to your locker to collect your things in a daze. It continues all the way to the station and your dad has to stop you from walking into a wall. If you weren’t in such a state of shock, you probably would’ve laughed.

An officer whose name you immediately forget takes down your information and you lose count of how many sets of ten you’ve collected. Finally, Chief Hopper sits in front of you and introduces himself.

“Jim Hopper”

“Y/n Newby”

“y/n, you were the last person to see Benny. Did you notice anything odd about his behavior?”

“Um, no he seemed fine–normal. But, I wasn’t the last person.”

“What do you mean?”

“There was a little kid that broke in last night, a runaway.”

“We heard about the kid, did you get a good look? Did he look like this?”

He produces a missing kid poster, Will’s picture on the front. The nausea returns to your body.

One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten

“No, uh, that's Will Byers. I know Will and I didn’t recognize this kid. We called social services. They were supposed to come this morning.”

“So there’s a chance this kid’s running around too?”

The thought of the little girl from yesterday being on her own again terrifies you. You count two more sets of ten before another officer pipes up, clearly not reading the room, “Huh chief, what’re the chances of two missing kid cases in the same 24 hours–in Hawkins!”

You see a spark of connection flash on the chief’s face, a look you can understand. You’re pretty sure you’ve connected the same dots he has: Will, the little girl, and Benny’s death are all intertwined.

–––

The bedroom feels tiny yet giant all at once. The popcorn ceiling seems to dance in front of you–probably because you’ve been staring at it for the past few hours. No matter how you try and put the pieces together, none of them fit. Any way you looked at it, it didn’t make sense. The big question underlying everything was Why?

After what felt like another hour of staring at the ceiling, you had a horrible realization. You never got the coffee. Laughter bubbles out of you uncontrollably. You trap the laughter behind your hands, horrified at the humor of the situation–and at yourself for getting lost in it. God, what a mess this whole day has turned out to be.

Turning over, your clock displays the time– 4:52 pm. Your dad is still at work. He had stayed with you for an hour before going back, letting you know he’d be back later than normal. He had to be at the store to meet with someone or receive a shipment or something–honestly, you weren’t really listening. You didn’t protest, just gave him a hug and told him you were fine.

You grab your bag and head outside but your truck is nowhere to be found. That's right, you remember, dad drove you home, which means your truck is still at the high school. As you contemplate how long the walk to the school is going to take, Mrs. Henderson leaves her door, calling out your name before walking over, a sad smile on her face. Clearly, news travels fast.

“Oh, Y/n, I was just coming over to check on you. How’re you holding up? Your dad told me what happened.”

You glance down at your converse and shift from foot to foot. “Um I’m ok, all things considered. I was about to head to the store.”

“Why don’t you let me drive you? I’ve been meaning to pick up a few things too,” she’s clearly trying to be subtle but you doubt she’s going to let you go alone.

“Uh sure,” you answer, not wanting to be rude.

Sitting in her car isn’t as uncomfortable as you thought it’d be. Mrs. Henderson pointedly doesn’t ask about Benny, but does make small talk.

“How’s volleyball going? Your dad was telling me you made varsity this year? Congratulations!”

“Oh yeah, its pretty good. Coach has us doing morning practices every other day. Getting ready for the first game in a few weeks.”

“Ooh are you excited? It must be nerve wracking to be so close to game day”

You shrug your shoulders.

“I guess, but I’m not that worried. Our first game is against Cuark High, and they're not that intimidating.”

Mrs Henderson hummed in acknowledgement. The radio played a beach boys song so softly the words were incomprehensible. She tended to listen to older music, you noticed. Soft tunes that crooned of love and hope were always the soundtrack of the Henderson home. You appreciated the way Ms. Henderson emphasized comfort throughout her life.

When the Hendersons first moved in next to you, your father had insisted that you offer your help. After a full day of unloading furniture and unpacking boxes, Mrs. Henderson had cooked you a hearty meal. Dustin was just 9 years old and had stared at you with wide eyes as you ate. As you helped Mrs. Henderson clean the dishes, she’d told you that if you ever needed a woman to talk to, she was just a short walk away.

The woman rambles gently about some mischief her cat got up to while you stare at the radio. It's a horrifyingly familiar piano riff. If there was ever a song you didn’t want to hear, it's this. Elton John’s unintelligible singing continues as it draws nearer to the chorus. You try to will the radio to combust as your hands ball into tighter and tighter fists.

One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten.

Over and over you count until all you can focus on is the song in your ears and the numbers in your head.

“...Y/n? What's wrong?” Ms. Henderson's voice cuts through the ringing of ears and the song, which seems impossibly loud.

“B-B-B-Bennie and the jets” Elton John's voice sings emphatically.

“Oh god!” Ms Henderson exclaims, quickly switching off the radio, “I’m so sorry sweetie, I didn’t even hear the song playing.”

The silence from the radio is welcome, but the ringing in your ears remains.

As you pulled into the parking lot, you came out of your daze.

“Y/n, sweetie, would you mind grabbing a cart?”

You silently grabbed a shopping cart from the line up, falling into step with her.

“What's on your list?” Mrs. Henderson asked, pulling out a written list from her bag.

“Uh, just coffee”

“Oh, thats it?” You shrugged. Your father had never been the shopping list type, preferring to just pick up whatever he needed on the way home. It was a trait you’d picked up as well.

“Well, we can get that first then we’ll tackle my list.”

You trailed behind your neighbor with the cart, occasionally throwing in groceries that looked interesting or you figured you’d be running out of soon. A pack of coke, a bag of chips, and a carton of eggs soon joined your coffee grinds in the cart, surrounded by Mrs. Henderson’s haul.

It was dark by the time you got out of the store, and you pulled your sweater arms up on your hands to protect them from the chilly air.

Her car warms you up quickly and you are reminded of your own car, “Mrs. Henderson,” you begin, “could you stop by the high school? My truck is still parked there.”

“Of course sweetie, don’t want you walking so early in the morning tomorrow!”

The drive to the school is fairly quiet until a thought pops into your head, “How’s Dustin holding up with the whole Will thing?”

A sad look crosses Mrs. Henderson’s face, “Honestly, I don’t know. He seems to be perfectly unaffected. I don’t know if he’s really optimistic or just putting on a brave face…he’s always been a resilient kid, but I can’t imagine how it’ll affect him if Will…” she shakes the worried look off her face, “I hope they find him soon.”

“Yeah, me too.”

She pulls her car next to yours and turns to face you. “Y/n, I know that you probably don’t want to talk about Benny right now. But I want you to know I’m here for you. If you need a shoulder, or another girls’ night, I’m just a walk away.”

“Oh,” you aren’t sure how to respond, “Thank you…I’ll keep that in mind.”

She pursed her lips, an emotion crossing her face that you couldn’t quite read.

“Anyways, thanks for the ride…it was nice. And make sure Dustin helps you carry in the groceries. I know you’ll probably try and make it in one trip.”

“Dustin’s actually at the Wheelers tonight, though he should be getting soon I suppose.” she replies, seemingly realizing the time

Driving your truck home, you immediately missed the warmth that Mrs. Henderson’s car offered. Alone with your thoughts, your mind began to wander as you drove. Considering all the odd things going on in town, you tried to piece them all together. Maybe Eleven and Will met and were on the run together, but why would Will run away? And on that note, Why had Eleven run? Did social services ever pick her up? How long after they showed up did Benny shoot himself? Did he even wait for it? Did Eleven have to witness it?

You were so lost in thought that you almost didn’t see the other car parked on the side of the road. You have to use your whole body to turn the wheel enough to avoid hitting the car. Huh. It looks slightly familiar. Then it hits you. This is Jonathan’s car. You pull in front of it, hopping out the truck. Looking around, you see the caution tape and a pit grows in your stomach.

“Jonathan!” you call out, trying no to let your voice quiver. “Jonathan! Where are you?”

Silence.

You take a deep breath before breaching the treeline, still yelling his name. The empty branches shine silver in the moonlight. Leaves crunch beneath your feet as you carefully step through the woods. You stop for a minute to listen for any sort of response before continuing the trek.

“Y/n?”

You whip around, Jonathan standing behind you, camera in hand

“What are you doing here?”

“Me? What are you doing here?”

He stumbled over his words for a few seconds before clearing his throat, “I was trying to find evidence”

“Evidence of what?”

“I don't know, whatever I could find.”

“Jesus christ. Well, did you find anything?”

“Not really.”

“Oh. I’m sorry.”

“Yeah me too…I heard about Benny.”

You purse your lips and look away. You wrap your arms around yourself, shivering.

“Are you cold?” Jonathan asks, already tugging off his coat.

“Oh I’m fine, besides, now you’re gonna be cold” you shake your head in protest as he tries to hand you the coat.

“I’ll be fine, besides I run hot.”

You hum in consideration. You are really cold and his jacket looks really warm compared to your hoodie.

“Thanks”

You warm up almost instantly, pulling the coat further around yourself.

You walk back to your cars in solemn silence.

“Jonathan,” you say as you reach the edge of the woods, “I am really sorry about Will. He’s a good kid.”

Jonathan turns to you, eyes shining in the moonlight. He lets out a defeated sigh.

“Yeah he is…I need him to be okay.”

“He will be.” you rest a comforting hand on his shoulder and the boy surprises you with a bear hug. You hear him sniffle into your shoulder.

It's a weird sensation, all in all, as Jonathan holds onto you. You’re not quite sure where to put your hands, and you struggle to support the sudden weight.

“It’ll be ok, you’re ok” you whisper to him, comforting him in his crisis.

His breathing evens out and he steps away, pink faced. “Sorry about that.”

“It's okay, Jonathan. Sometimes you just need to let it out.”

He chuckles wetly, wiping his face.

“See you at school tomorrow.”

You wave from your window, “See ya!”

Next Chapter

Tags:

@ucannotcompare

#stranger things #stranger things rewrite #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington fanfic #where you lead #bob newby #steve harrington x newby!reader #jonathan byers

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aimeedaisies · 1 year ago

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Princess Anne, President of the Mission to Seafarers, with her husband Sir Tim Laurence, at the Festival of Nine Lessons and Carols at All Hallows by the Tower in London on 5th December 2023.

Read more about the service here

#🥰🥰🥰🥰#always there to support his wife #princess anne #princess royal #tim laurence #timothy laurence

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sapphosremains · 7 months ago

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Heyyyyyy bestie. So I don’t celebrate advent and never have. But I want to. But my parents don’t and I don’t really have money of anything to spend so do you know how I could celebrate advent by myself without any money???

HELLO!!! Okay so you have asked the right person because Advent is my favourite thing ever.

Firstly if you can attend a church, that's great - they'll do fun things like a carol service, Nine Lessons and Carols, maybe sing Handel's Messiah or other great music, and specific things like omitting the gloria of the mass setting until Christmas, when we get it back again for the glory of the birth of Christ! Then if you can attend Midnight Mass it is magic!

Some churches, particularly Eastern Orthodox, still fast for 40 days before Christmas, but Anglican and RC churches don't, although we keep Advent as a season of penitence.

Advent calendars, wreaths, and candles are ways we can mark the passing of Advent and lead up to Christmas, and you can definitely make something like one of these yourself. Before chocolate calendars, Advent calendars were often little pictures of Bible scenes behind a little door, so you could absolutely make one of those. A simple advent wreath could be made of branches you could find, and the candles marked with paper, maybe? You get the idea.

I can't think of anything any more right now - anyone else?

#advent #christmas #progressive christianity #lgbt christian #queer christian #religion #theology #christian #christianity

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yousonickedmyprecious · 4 months ago

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Tuned into the Festival of Nine Lessons and Carols - never cried during the Lord’s Prayer before, guess this is the mood today.

#I’m not even religious but this is my tradition even tho I don’t go to wegmans right after/during anymore

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rosiewitchescottage · 5 months ago

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youtube

A Kenyan British lady and her Nigerian British husband. They give a beautiful description of why they want to preserve the Britain that they traveled to become a part of.

You can come here and practice any religion. We have a stated value of mutually respecting different faith, cultures etc.

But notice this is 'Mutual' respect, that goes both way.

If there are people who refuse to render you respect for respect, then most of us will be on your side.

All that we ask is that people come here free to practice their own faiths, but whilst respecting the Christian foundation on which our country has been built.

Bring and practice your culture, along with your religion. As long as it doesn't violate any of our laws, we're fine with it.

All we ask for is to respect our native culture. And yes, we do have a culture

. We have foods and drinks that have a British (English, Welsh, Scots, N irish character) Try them out. They may not be spicy. But they do have their own tastiness.

We have loads of music, stretching back through centuries by home grown composers and performers.

Books, plays poetry - You've heard of Shakespeare, Jane Austen, Keats? All British, and there are plenty more.

Folklore and fairy tales - We have four different countries, with their own myths, legends, folklore and fairy tales.

I highly recommend them all.

We love a celebration as much as anyone. Look at how we celebrate Christmas. Think of December as a month long festival of light, music, stories, food, drink and lots of good will. Check out The Festival of Nine Lessons and Carols from King's College Cambridge. You can get it on BBC Radio 4 from Christmas Eve onward.

Easter - Parts of the country have their own customs from the beginning of Lent onwards.

Shrove Tuesday Pancake Races, Egg Rolling

Not sure why Maypole's are here in the Easter section. It's more usually at the beginning of May, the Pagan festival of Beltane, heralding the early days of Summer.

Morris dancing seems rather silly. But it's fun and began as a Spring fertility dance.

Cornwall - Some Cornish people want to be separate from England, some don't. But they're still British, either way

The Countryside - It's not racist. If you live here, it's yours to love and take care of too.

Go and visit, no one's going to stop you. See this gorgeous landscape that we need to take care of and protect.

Our History. - It's there for us to learn from, not to judge.

Some terrible things were done in our past.This is true

So, we find ways to not let it happen again. Most British people are fine with that.

Guess what. All but the tiny but worst percentage of people think this slavery is disgusting.

We don't want to fall into that trap again, so yes, let's keep learning about it.

But also we should learn the full history of slavery thousands, and I do mean many thousands of years ago. Jewish slaves taken to Babylon.

And the worst part? That history isn't over, how about we make up for our part in slavery in the past, by fighting slavery going on right now.

British Empire - Yes, it had some advantages. But that came at the price of a country not being allowed the freedom to rule itself, and that sucks.

So, I think most Brits are happy that it ended. The Commonwealth is a group of independent, self governing nations, that chose to keep the British Monarch as Head of State.

Are there improvements that can be made? I'm sure there are plenty. Let's work on that, rather than focusing on the problems of the past. We can make the present and future better. But the past is what it was.

British Heroes - Were these people paragons of virtue? Err No! They were people, imperfect just like us.

But we celebrate them today, because they did something extra special that helped our country.

Try learning about them. Yes, the bad as well as the good. But remember that it's not the bad that we celebrate them for, so why would we be ashamed of what made them human?

Look at what they did, and even if you can't celebrate them too. You'll at least see why many of us do.

A great speech dear Madam and Sir.

I'm delighted to call you and your children my compatriots.

#Youtube #pro british

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boopsloop363 · 4 months ago

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Lastly let us remember before God all those who rejoice with us, but upon another shore and in a greater light, that multitude which no man can number, whose hope was in the Word made flesh, and with whom, in this Lord Jesus, we for evermore are one.

Close to the bidding prayer at the beginning of the Festival of Nine Lessons and Carols held annually at King's College Chapel in Cambridge.

I definitely recommend a listen, this year's is up on BBC Sounds for everyone.

Thanks fren I hope everyone gets a chance to listen

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emjee · 4 months ago

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Then only thing I miss about the website formerly known as Twitter is the annual Nine Lessons and Carols listen along, so I’ll probably be live-posting about it in about forty minutes. Block the tag 9LC if you don’t want to see Anglican chorister Christmas opinions

#mg says stuff

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britanniabay · 2 years ago

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HRH The Princess Royal and her husband Vice Admiral Sir Tim Laurence attend and participate in A Festival of Nine Lessons and Carols (2012). Courtesy of The Mission to Seafarers.

#princess anne #princess royal #british royal family #the princess royal #her royal highness #royal family #hrh #united kingdom #hrh princess anne #tim laurence #vice admiral sir tim laurence #timothy laurence #anne and tim #mama loves to sing #i wish i could hear #the princess and the sailor

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stoportotouch · 2 years ago

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crozier is. for one thing a miserable wanker but for another it really DOES have a lot of the vibe of billy budd about it. i know i have already Talked About that to at least one person but like. in a lot of ways they are thematically really similar pieces of Theatre.* (i'm referring to the tv show and britten's opera, rather than the book and melville's novella.)

like there's this constant overwhelming and overhanging sense of punishment on board terror and erebus and on board britten's indomitable, whether that's a literal punishment (whipping, making somebody sit in the dead room) or more of a figurative punishment (sophia cracroft standing outside in the snow, crozier not going home, silna's exile, etc.)

also i picked up in this watch that manson does swing for irving when he threatens him with sitting in the dead room. and that's such a blatant parallel to the death of claggart and the fact that it's hickey who saves him is also such an obvious line of comparison. claggart gets angry with billy for stuttering and billy, backed into a corner, punches and kills him. claggart has the novice whipped in billy budd; claggart forces the novice to shop billy out to protect himself from further punishment.

irving orders hickey to subjugate his own desires and nature and repress part of who he is, subtextually because he wants to drag everybody down with him. crozier forces little into a command that he doesn't want and that terrifies him by his temporary abdication of responsibility. billy gibson shops hickey out to evade punishment for himself, hickey gets brutally whipped. hickey probably saves irving from more severe injury; saves manson from worse for striking a superior officer (which would have carried a death penalty under the Articles).

claggart unspools because of disorder being brought into his very tightly organised, tightly-wound life by billy. hickey says that what irving fears most isn't the act that they were (nearly) caught in or the knowledge of it happening but chaos. and that has some very religious theming too; i'm thinking of the last reading at the nine lessons and carols service. 'the light shineth in the darkness, and the darkness comprehended it not.' which would have been the version with which they were familiar.

#ollie considers #the terror #billy budd #opera tag #the fact that i was a verger/a choral scholar proves useful in the WEIRDEST of situations #john irving #SO ANYWAY.#this is... not necessarily spoilers for The Thing What I'm Writing but it will come to figure

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avalentina · 1 year ago

Text

12 Days Of Christmas

(Draco Malfoy Style)

Image not mine

A few things to note: bulleted text is the original song line, italicized chat font text is Draco's feelings about the line, and the indented text is Draco's version of the line!

I was going for a head cannon style with this one but I probably failed...

All dividers are by @firefly-graphics

Hope you enjoy! -Ava

Draco talking to Blaise:

D: Did you hear Snape today? Apparently the new girl Y/N or whatever is like a potions prodigy, like Snape was actually impressed with her potion.

B: Don't tell me you're crushing on her just because she's better than you at potions.

D: She's a half-blood from America, and she's gorgeous, intelligent, snarky, and yet also somehow kind. She's fucking perfect is what she is. I just, I've liked her since she first set foot in the Great Hall.

B: Just have fun, and do something Christmassy, at least I think that's what she called their holiday.

D: That's it! The carols she was singing while decorating the common room, there was that Twelve Days of Christmas song. I'll do something fun for those days.

On the first day of Christmas my true love gave to me, a partridge in a pear tree

Yeah, nope, not getting her that… but maybe…

On the first day of Christmas, I gave to my true love… an invitation to the Yule Ball

On the second day of Christmas my true love gave to me, two turtle doves

Ok, that one isn't too bad, but improvements must be made

On the second day of Christmas I gave to my true love… two golden birds made of light, Avis!

On the third day of Christmas my true love gave to me, three French hens

Ummm, what, why, just why?

On the third day of Christmas I gave to my true love… three poinsettias

On the fourth day of Christmas my true love gave to me four calling birds

What is it with this song and birds?

On the fourth day of Christmas I gave to my true love… four barking cruppies

On the fifth day of Christmas my true love gave to me five golden rings

See, that one I like, that one I really like, however I can still outdo it

On the fifth day of Christmas I gave to my true love five golden snitches!

On the sixth day of Christmas my true love gave to me six geese a laying

Oh for Merlins sake, can they quit it with the birds?

On the sixth day of Christmas I gave to my true love… six chocolate frogs

On the seventh day of Christmas my true love gave to me seven swans a swimming

That's actually kind of romantic, like a swan dance

On the seventh day of Christmas I gave to my true love… seven fountains performing with music and lights and colors (every ounce of my transfiguration and potions knowledge was necessary)

On the eighth day of Christmas my true love gave to me eight maids a milking

Nope, nope, nope, absolutely not, she's a transfer from America and she's best friends with Hermione even though y/n’s a Slytherin

On the eighth day of Christmas I gave to my true love… eight house elves' freedom

On the ninth day of Christmas my true love gave to me nine ladies dancing

Good, but I have a better idea, and I think she'll like it

On the ninth day of Christmas I gave to my true love… nine mooncalves dancing under the stars

On the tenth day of Christmas my true love gave to me ten lords a leaping

My day to show off my skills!

On the tenth day of Christmas I gave to my true love… ten dancing lessons (she did ask)

On the eleventh day of Christmas my true love gave to me eleven pipers piping

Ooh, I can work with that!

On the eleventh day of Christmas I gave to my true love… eleven frogs a singing with the choir

On the twelfth day of Christmas my true love gave to me twelve drummers drumming

Twelve battle drummers maybe?

On the twelfth day of Christmas I gave to my true love… twelve durmstrang students dueling (with fire)

And that was my successful Fourth year, I enjoyed it, and so did y/n, enough that she agreed to be my girlfriend.

Want to hear y/n's reactions to each gift? Let me know in the comments or by liking this post!

As always, I hope you enjoyed! Happy Holidays!

-Ava

Thank you for requesting a tag!

@freedomfireflies

Comment or DM me if you would like to be added to the Holiday Writing Spectacular Taglist!

#draco lucius malfoy #wizarding world #12 days of christmas #twelve days of christmas #draco x reader #draco fanfiction #draco malfoy #draco fic #draco malfoy fic #headcanon #ava's holiday spectacular #merry christmas #happy holidays #merry xmas #tis the season

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