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hunnylagoon · 9 months

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Right Where You Left Me

Pt 2: Jailbird

Ellie Williams x reader

I want to write a poem about you but I’m afraid it won’t be enough. I almost feel ashamed that I want you to fit into a word because we both know that you are beyond anything that can be put on paper.

Premise: You and Ellie were childhood friends before you drifted apart. Funny thing about soulmates is that they tend to find there way back to each other. While you both visit home for winter break, events unfold and it is no longer possible to avoid each other.

Warnings: Angst / homophobia / brief violence / reader has religious issues

Part one here!

Part three here!

Part four here!

I may have been wrong to say that I could never hate Ellie. Fuck she was vicious, in the most passive-aggressive way too. She's so sly about it that I can't even get mad without seeming irrational.

Winter break finally rolled around and I had yet to make any progress with Ellie it was whatever the opposite of progress is. If she wanted to hate me, that was fine, I could do the same, I could be petty. It's now December and all of this bullshit started in September, she could hardly be courteous.

Fuck her.

I had survived mid-terms and finals but the way Ellie was acting had me skipping happily towards the edge. She will wash a whole sink of dishes and leave just my fork, or Venmo request me if I ate one of her grapes. Everything had gotten worse when Dina, Abby, and Cat all left to visit their families for winter break leaving just Ellie and I, without the girls there to hold us to the house rules we were at each other's throats.

She was foaming at the fucking mouth to tear me apart. There was no level-headed Abby or fun-loving Dina, not even Cat who was just mellow. Just me and Ellie verbally abusing each other. "Fuck off, with your wild animal teeth," I spat, slamming the dish cupboard closed with a loud thud.

"Wild animal teeth?" She repeats "Wow, you're getting creative, I'll give you that," Ellie's gaze held a certain bitterness "Heard you were on your knees again last night and I don't mean praying."

My eye almost twitches at her words and it takes everything in me not to throw a ceramic bowl at her. I hated her, I hated her freckled face, and eyes as sharp as knives, just hearing her raspy voice, and seeing her sardonic smile made me want to keel over and let the earth wrap me in her flourishing greenery. I often wanted that to happen. I was trying to refrain from going home as I didn't want to spend the entire break with my family but I was starting to think nothing was better than this, I was set to leave the following day (Christmas Eve) anyway but I was seconds away from grabbing my bag and jumping into my car. "Can you just learn to be fucking civil?"

"Why would-

"Because we were sixteen years old when that stupid shit happened!" I spat "You're holding a grudge from when we were sixteen," I reiterated, searching her features for some sign that I'd gotten through to her.

"It's not like you've changed since any of that happened." She stands, unnervingly calm on the other side of the kitchen island. "You were always awful since we were young, always crying, always emotional, always explosive, my dad said you're like a birch tree, one spark and you burst into flames."

"Fuck off."

"You always had to have the attention," Her eyebrows furrow "Nothing was your fault, blame being fucking erratic and insane on your parents."

"You don't know my parents half as well as you think you do."

"What don't I know about them? They've been in my life as long as you have."

"Ellie, stop," I say, suddenly I'm taken away from the mood to fight, I just want to scream into my pillow.

"What?" She asks "You're going to say some shit like 'they aren't loving' or 'you wouldn't get it' Please, enlighten me, what wouldn't I get?" She moves closer just an inch or so "Wow, your life sounds so hard, you have two parents who love each other and a huge fucking house, oh shit," Sarcasm drips from her tone "Maybe it's that trust fund that's taking a toll on you."

"Please, stop."

"You could commit every crime known to man and you would still be their pride and joy, there is nothing you could say or do that would make them hate you-

"Here we go with your 'life is so fucking hard and I'm edgy and indie and I have a sad backstory that I'll bring up every second sentence even though I was seven when it happened' " I mock her.

She bites the inside of her cheek and I can tell that I've struck a nerve "You know when my lease-

"Don't even worry about it," I move out from the kitchen and begin towards my room, Ellie's eyes are trailing me "The minute my lease is up, I'm packing my shit and moving into student housing so I won't have to look at your fucking face while I'm eating!" I slam my bedroom door behind me.

I left that night, I couldn't bear the sound of her guitar strums, so repetitive it made me want to slam my head through the drywall.

You better believe that I cried my entire way home while blasting Julien Baker. My mother was pleasantly surprised to see me at her doorstep a day early, I knew Ellie would be coming down sometime tomorrow to spend the Holidays with her family, I didn't know when, I just knew that I didn't want to see her.

I never even told my parents that Ellie was my roommate and they hadn't heard it from Joel as they drifted when Ellie and I were fifteen.

My bedroom was exactly how I left, I cuddled into my twin bed that night sinking into the absolute silence of the the snowfall, with my dog Dusty curled at my side. I always loved the snow, the way it acted as soundproofing for the earth, when I was little I would just sit in the backyard so I could hear the birds sing in their purest and truest form.

Christmas Eve was dull to begin with, to say the least; my mom made Christmas tree-shaped waffles as she did every year, I was then dragged to an excruciatingly long church sermon. When we returned home I was sent to shovel the driveway, turns out visiting home from college doesn't excuse you from chores. I knew Ellie had arrived when I saw her grey sedan in Joel's driveway as well as Tommy's Range Rover. Bundled up in mittens and a hand-knitted scarf that Naomi gave to me I felt really tough giving the middle finger to Ellie wherever she was in Joel's house.

"What the fuck are you doing?" Elijah was cackling in the doorway. Dusty I happily bounding through the snow, paying to mind to my brother.

I immediately dropped my arm, trying to play nonchalantly "Uh, shoveling the driveway?"

His laughter only grew "You look so stupid," He huffed between cackles "You're standing in a foot of snow in the driveway giving Mr. Miller's house the middle finger in your cute little mitts."

"Say that louder, no one could hear you," I say, sarcastically.

"Hear ye, hear ye-

My eyes go wide and I drop the shovel to form a snowball and deck it at my brother "Shut up!"

"Ow!" He flinches, and his track and field hoodie from high school is now covered in powdered sleet. "Whatever," He yanks his hoodie off to shake the snow off of it "Just finish the driveway so we can watch a movie or something, I haven't seen you in months, Naomi and Aaron haven't shut up about you all holiday break."

I give him a mitted thumbs up before I try to speed run the shovelling, albeit slipping on black ice more than a few times. When I came back inside, I needed to change, my parka was dripping with snow that had melted into water.

I bundle up into sweatpants and an old soccer t-shirt. Being in my old room digs up memories pinned on my wall with bright thumbtacks year after year of photos of my soccer team, in every single one Ellie and I have our arms slung over each other. We're smiling wide and not focusing on the camera but on one another. I tear the picture away from the thumbtacks and throw them into a random shoe box that sits at the bottom of my closet. After that, I take down every artifact I have of Ellie, the drawings she made me, drafts of songs we wrote together, and t-shirts she left in my drawers, I throw it all into a Rubbermaid storage bin.

Though I leave the little wood carvings that Joel made for me alone.

My family's famous Christmas Eve dinner rolled around and I couldn't believe how excited I was, I'm not the best cook and despite me and my mother going through spats every other day, she was one hell of a good chef and I had spent months craving her honey roasted carrots and creamy mashed potatoes.

Please don't judge me when I say this, but we are the family that dresses up for dinners at home. Nothing black tie, just something a little dapper, one time I wore jeans to our family dinner and I was grounded for a week.

I finished zipping up my white sundress and I let my little sister tie a matching bow into my hair, when she saw what I was wearing she changed into her white dress which was ankle length while mine fell right above my knees.

"Oh, my sweet girls are matching again," My mom fawns over us "Let me get a picture of this cute little moment," I smile for the picture, and Naomi does the same, hooking an arm around my midriff. "Adorable," Mom looks at the picture before tucking her phone into her pocket "Now girls, please set the table."

Even though I hadn't been at home for months, setting the table was like muscle memory to me, Naomi put the placemats down, and then I did the dinner plate and salad plate, Naomi would place the napkins and cutlery then I would set glasses and pour everyone water from the pitcher. By the time we finished setting the table everyone aside from my mother and Elijah were at the table, early awaiting what was sure to be a filling dinner.

Slowly but surely my mom brought the dishes with Elijah, placing them all through the center of the dining table. After everything was placed my father, who sits at the head of the table cleared his throat, that was his signal for everyone to join hands. "Dear God, We gather today with grateful hearts to thank you for this food before us. We appreciate the effort and resources that have provided us with this nourishment. May this meal sustain our bodies and remind us of the many blessings in our lives. We are thankful for the love of family and friends who surround us and for the abundance we enjoy. Bless this food, our time together, and those who prepared it. May it strengthen us physically and spiritually. This is your body, this is your love. We thank you for feeding us with your gracious hands. In Jesus' name, we give thanks and pray. Amen."

"Amen," My family repeats before we all ravishingly fill our plates with chicken, maple-roasted mushrooms, buttered green beans, bread rolls, and mashed potatoes. I was eating so fast, I was shocked that I didn't spill anything on myself.

"So, have you met any cute boys at college?" My mother asks me, she is the only one eating politely "I'm sure you could get a real smart guy with those looks of yours."

My father nods "Just make sure he's Christian."

"Or catholic," My mother adds.

I laugh awkwardly in response, I take a sip of my water, the condensation making it slippery in my hands. Elijah gives me an odd look that goes unnoticed by my parents.

"I think we should drop off some bread or cookies or something to the Miller's, just something to say hi while Tommy and Maria are still there." My mom tells us, she isn't speaking to anyone in particular.

"Is Ellie there right now?" Aaron asks.

Elijah shrugs "Probably, her car is in the driveway."

Now Naomi is looking at me "We should invite her over for New Year's or something if she's staying for the rest of break."

My dad shakes his head "I don't know if that's a good idea," All eyes fall on him "It's just- I think she's a bit of a bad influence." He takes a swig of his wine and attempts to suppress a burp but fails. I press my lips into a thin line and look down at my plate to hold in my laughter, Elijah does the same beside me.

"I don't remember Ellie being a bad influence," Aaaron furrows his eyebrows, racking his brain to think of a time that she had done their family wrong.

"It's just that there were rumours of her having-" My father searches for the words "Unnatural tendencies I suppose, and I tried to talk to Joel about it but he got defensive and said that she didn't need fixing, that's how I lost my best fishing buddy."

My mom looks at the discomfort on all of her children's faces "I mean, we all need a bit of fixing."

Dad is quick to catch on "Oh, yeah, of course, I mean it's not just Ellie," He fumbles over his words "And it's not her fault that she's that way, I think It's because she lost her mother when she was young so she got confused about the parental roles, Joel never remarried and he didn't date around much so Ellie didn't have a proper mother figure, it's not her fault she's a dyke and there's still time to fix it if she wants to choose the right path."

Stillness falls over the table, I had never heard silence quite this loud. Even my mother is at a loss for words. All of my siblings are darting our eyes at one another, we don't utter a single word but we understand each other clearly 'Dad actually said it'.

He noticed this and tried to backtrack on his words "I'm not a bad guy, I mean we've all read the bible cover to cover, we know it's a sin. I'll wrap this up, you all know that we love you no matter what and all I'm saying is I'm glad we could distance ourselves away from it."

"Hey Dad, did you watch the Canucks game last week?" Elijah swoops in to change the topic. It's too late, a wave of sickness has already overtaken me.

While my family discusses nothing in particular, trying to ignore what Dad said, I am sick to my stomach, I push my plate away and prop my elbow the the table for my hand to support my head. I am nearly shaking. My dull eyes peer across the table and meet my father's drowsy gaze.

"Honey, are you feeling alright?" My mom pauses whatever conversation she is enwrapped in.

I don't respond, I don't know how.

My family's eyes find a resting place on my figure. Mom pushes herself away from her chair and walks over to me, she places one hand between my shoulder blades, the other takes my cold hand and she slowly rubs a circle on my back to comfort me. "Sweetness, whatever is repressed inside, say it, let it out, we're all family."

Naomi nods in agreement, her wide eyes full of concern. "I don't know how to say it," I tell them.

"Air it out," My dad says, finishing off his glass of wine and pouring himself another "Today is the perfect day, tomorrow is the birth of Jesus, a fresh start."

My heart is racing faster than it ever has before, faster than when I broke my wrist in Ellie's backyard or when I had been on a rollercoaster for the first time. "I like girls," I say, my voice is quiet, and my three words take my family with silence. My mother freezes and takes a step back, her comforting hands leaving me.

"You're joking," My dad scoffs "Tell me this is a joke and you're normal."

"I can't," My voice cracks and I can already tell that the tears are oncoming. I think briefly back to Ellie's words 'There is nothing you could say or do that would make them hate you' if only she could see what was about to happen.

"All of those sleepovers with Ellie?" He is disgusted, his face contorting with horror "Were you dating her?"

"no-

"How can I believe anything you say, you lied to us for nineteen years when you knew you were sick."

"Dad, I'm not sick-

"How many sinful acts have you done under this roof?"

"None, I swear," I shake my head, it took less than a minute for me to be filled with regret at my words. I shouldn't have even come home for the holidays, actually, I never should've found Dina's listing and jumped at the deal.

"Get out," Any light tone in my dad's voice is gone, replaced by pure resentment.

"What?"

"You heard me, get out."

"Dad, it's Christmas Eve-

"Get out!" His voice rumbles through the dining room like thunder "I thought we fixed this phase when we sent you to boarding school."

"Please, dad-

"Get up and get out or I'm going to make you,"

"Fine- make me," Tears prick in my eyes but I cross my arms trying to muster up that false coolness Ellie is so good at feigning.

My dad slams his glass down so hard that it shakes the table, and the partially empty wine bottle my parents had been nursing all night is knocked over by the abruption, tipping over the deep red liquor to travel down the tablecloth and drip onto what was once my pure white dress. "Get up!" He grabs a fistful of my hair and I scream from the shock of pain. He yanks me off my chair and my face slams against the hardwood when his arm slumps, impact heavy from the sudden drop, it doesn't take long for my nose to start bleeding. He drags me to the door pushing it open; my siblings don't do anything they're petrified in horror and my mother begins to cry, covering her eyes from the scene before her.

My dad doesn't stop at the door, I thrash on the ground and he pulls me over both of my hands trying to pry his away from the roots of my hair, he drags me into the snow, finally releasing me. I shake as my hand gently finds the way to my burning scalp where I fully believe he has pulled out clumps of my hair with his harsh and unforgiving grasp.

From the doorway the rest of my family watches, Naomi has a hand covering her mouth her doe eyes brimming with tears of her own. My father disappeared into the house, it didn't take long to see what he was doing he slammed the window to make the bedroom open and began to throw all of my belongings out of the window. My pictures, my old soccer uniform, armfuls of clothes from my old beaten dresser, candles, books, paints, and shredded posters were torn straight off my wall.

"Dad, stop, I'm sorry, I'll get better!" I am on my knees, hands clasped together pleading with him. My skin is burning from the contact with the snow, I know that it must be a horrific sight to behold. White sundress, stained with wine, tangled hair, red-tinged skin, puffy eyes and incoherent sobs.

The snow makes everything so quiet the only sound travelling through the night are my sobs. I can no longer see my father in my bedroom, he is coming back down and somehow that is worse, he pushes past my family and throws the presents I was supposed to receive on Christmas morning beside me, I flinch at the movement.

"I'm sorry!" I plead like I'm bargaining with the Grimm Reaper for my life "Give me a job and I'll do it, just tell me what to do to get better!" The screaming carries through the night, alerting the neighbours in what was supposed to be a calm and quiet neighbourhood. Across the street, Joel turns on his porch light, squinting his eyes at the scene on the opposing lawn and trying to make sense of it. "I want to get better!" I shake with every sob. I could hear my dogs barking from the loud noises.

My dad shakes his head "You're too far gone, I didn't raise a fucking dyke," He is almost crying himself, he doesn't mourn for the daughter that he has but the daughter that could've been. The daughter who donned white every Sunday for church and settled down with a nice family man, a daughter who was holy but in this moment I am the purest form of holiness, born again from the violence of my father.

"Dad, I was created in God's image, why would he create his child to be this way if it was so wrong?"

"You're a fucking mistake is what you are," He seethes "Get off my property or I'm calling the cops."

"You still have my bags!" I scream and I watch him retreat to get them "Are you going to do anything at all?" I search my family for any sign of life but they all avert their eyes from mine. My father comes back out, and he throws my purse and suitcase on the lawn, this time both of them hit me, talking about kicking someone when they're down.

My dad begins to usher the family inside "I never want to see you again, get your ass up and start working, I'm not paying for you to fuck around with women instead of getting an education."

"That's it?" I cry "You won't come to my wedding or meet my kids? What about my funeral?"

"Not as long as you're with a woman." With that, he slams the door behind him and locks it. I let out another guttural sob, I've already cried so much that it's beginning to hurt within my stomach. I take a deep and shaky breath in, wiping the tears away from my eyes with my freezing hands, I'm sure to catch hypothermia if I don't warm up. I look up to see my neighbours all around either watching from their window or in the Miller family's case, the front porch. I'm sure that someone has already called the police.

"Let me in, I'm sorry!" I scramble off the ground and begin to bang on the door. Shaking the handle "Let me in!" This goes on for longer than I would've liked, I hammer on the door and scream as loud as I can but they all ignore me. Eventually, I stand by the window and slam my hands on it "Let me in or give me my fucking dog, you can't take care of him!"

I knew I was fucked when I heard sirens. It only made sense for the neighbours to call the cops at this disturbance.

I'm going to do you all a favour and tell you some useful information; when the police arrive and you don't wanna seem guilty, don't try to drive away from the scene because you might just end up getting handcuffed and shoved into the back of a police car for your childhood bestfriends family to watch from their front row seats.

"Prison life isn't for me," I wallow as I press myself against the bars of the holding cell. There are two other women in the cell with me and they both snigger. One of their names is Lucia, and she has bronze skin and brown hair so dark that it almost looks black with gold hoop earrings the size of my head, I don't know the other woman's name but she looks significantly older and has stringy blonde hair, the wrinkles of her face drooping.

"Honey, this isn't prison, you'll live another hour," Lucia sits on the uncomfortable bench, her arms crossed, she's kind of hot to be blunt.

"You reek of liquor though," Blondie cackles and I catch a glimpse of her rotting yellow teeth, what's the opposite of pearly whites? Golden nuggets? Something like that.

"Because I got wine spilled on me," I retort. I had been crying before they even placed me in the cell, wailing so loud that I was annoying the officers. I was so upset and starved for affection that I hugged the officer who detained me, babbling incoherently about how my life was ruined, I don’t even blame them for arresting me, I looked like a crackhead trying to break into a nice suburban home. “I'm not drunk."

"Could've fooled me," Lucia smirks, she's wearing a black tank top and skinny jeans. I wasn't a fan of skinny jeans but she was converting me.

I fell asleep hugging myself on one of the uncomfortable metal benches with chipped blue paint, when I woke up, it was Christmas, even though it didn't feel like it. I saw the snowfall outside of the windows on the other side of the cells. Lucia had told me just before she was released that they had the right to hold you longer over holidays, I wanted to weep all over again.

Blondie got removed from the cell too and I was all alone. The only thing that kept me sane was pretending I was Katniss or Lucy Gray, if they had survived the Hunger Games, I could survive this. I genuinely thought my life was over and I was getting sent to prison for hammering on my dad's door and screaming.

With each hour that ticked by, my profound sense of loneliness only grew. The sounds of distant laughter flitted through the hall and I am reminded of the world that lies beyond the metal bars. I wonder what my family is doing at this moment, every voice that I hear acts as a reminder of the love I had jeopardized. I lost Ellie, I lost Conner, and now I had lost my family.

I think about praying to god for a moment though I discard the thought. If he was real why did he let that happen to me? Maybe forgiveness and redemption were not necessary.

"Crybaby, call someone to pick you up," Officer Reid who initially arrested me and interrogated me began to unlock the cell, "Charges are dismissed." He had been calling me Crybaby since I was stuffed in the back of the police car and wailing uncontrollably.

"Like for real?"

He was in fact, for real. I was brought to a landline phone and my hands acted faster than my head, dialling the number of someone I would trust with my life, I just prayed that the number hadn't changed.

After making my call I was told to go to a weird booth thing to collect my effects, where an old and very judgmental woman dumped my few belongings out of an envelope. I wish I knew the technical names for this stuff but it's not like I've been arrested before this one off occasion. She looked at each of the items, stating what it was while she took inventory of it. "Smartphone, lipgloss, a single gold earring, and a cross necklace," She marks something down and then turns the paper around and holds out a blue pen for me to take "Sign here."

My phone had died already, I was missing an earring, and the cross had failed me, all I had left to rely on was my cover girl lipgloss. I sat in that stark grey room for what seemed like hours, everyone seemed miserable as I am, at least I wasn't the only person having a not-so-merry Christmas.

Holy shit, I was still disgusting. I was sticky and freezing, still in the wine-ruined white dress, there was still dried blood on my face despite my pestering Lucia to help me get it off. My hair is tangled, the bow that my sister had tied in lost somewhere in the snow. I haven't looked in a mirror but I know I look rough from the side glances that everyone is casting me. I can't imagine the dark bags beneath my red, puffy eyes to be any sort of appealing.

The sterile waiting room is beginning to get on my nerves, I flinch at every movement and hold onto hope that every person walking through the door is the person I'm waiting on. I try my best to avert my eyes from the clock so time doesn't drag on any longer than it already is.

By the time Joel gets here, the sun is beginning to set, his eyes frantically search the room until they land on me, I'm already standing up and walking toward him. "Kiddo, are you okay?"

My lip quivers and it feels like every awful thing I've ever felt is going to seep through my teeth. My head falls onto his chest but this time I don't cry, I think I've run out of tears "I have nothing ahead of me."

Joel doesn't ask questions, he just hugs me in return, resting his chin on the top of my head, there is the comfort I had been so desperately searching for.

He signs release papers and he guides me to his red Ford Explorer. When I called him I asked him to bring me shoes as I was barefoot when I was detained, being the number one dad that he was, he brought a reusable grocery store tote bag, containing a hoodie, sneakers, fuzzy socks, sweatpants and a bag of my favourite chips. I slip the sweats on underneath my dress while the hoodie goes overtop, I awkwardly unzip it and shimmy it off, stuffing it into the tote bag.

The drive back to his house begins and he turns on the radio, trying to make lighthearted chatter "Thanks for coming to get me," I say, my voice is quiet and I pull my knees to my chest like as I tend to do when I get nervous "You can just drop me off at my car and I'll be out of your way."

"Sorry, kiddo," He says, eyes focused on the road "You're staying with me tonight, I don't want you driving these roads in the dark and it'll be good for you to have a hot shower and a warm meal, get some sleep somewhere that's not a holding cell."

"It's just that-

"If you still want to leave in the morning that's up to you but you shouldn't end your Christmas alone," Each word seems so genuine "And you know I would gladly have you stay with me three hundred and sixty-five days a year."

I look at him, a soft melancholic smile on my face, "Thank you," I say.

"Do you wanna talk about it?"

A sigh falls from my lips "What happened to all of my stuff that was left on the lawn?"

"Tommy and Ellie brought it all inside."

Ellie brought it back inside? Did she actually give a shit or was this something her dad ordered her to do? "Did my dad say anything to you?"

Joel shakes his head "Maria went barging on his door, those two were in a screaming match for a good two minutes before he locked the door on her. Hasn't been outside since, everyone in the neighbourhood has been coming by to ask what happened."

"Even Sharron?" I ask Joel, wrinkling my nose in distaste.

"Even Sharron," He solidifies. Sharron was the grouchy crone of the street, shutting down every party, cussing out teenagers from her porch, and yelling at barking dogs "She said she was worried about you." The windshield wipers painted rhythmic patterns across the glass, clearing a path through the soft snow that continued to fall.

"She's not worried about me, she's worried I'm on drugs and I'll break into her musty home to steal all of her hummels."

Joel huffs a laugh "I can't believe that I used to let her babysit you and Ellie."

"Me neither, you should be paying for my therapy." I tease.

He chuckles at my words, "So you're majoring in wildlife biology?"

"You remembered what I wanted to major in?"

"Of course I did."

"Hey, Mookie!" Tommy wraps his arms around me the moment I set foot in the door. He's called me Mookie since I was a little girl, it started when I couldn't pronounce monkey and thus Mookie was born. "Let me get a good look at you," He pushes me back just the slightest hands clasped on my shoulders "Look at that bruise you've got on your cheek, looking awful tough, like those greasers you used to read about."

"Look at that, Mookie grew up," Maria greets me with a warm smile, pushing Tommy away to hug me "Good to see you made it through prison alive," She jests.

Joel's house is exactly how it was when I left.

The air carried the familiar scent of firewood and lavender incense. In the living room, an inviting fireplace stood as the heart of the home. Its gentle crackle and the dancing flames provided a soothing backdrop to the overstuffed couches adorned with cozy blankets and throw pillows, worn from years of shared family movie nights. A well-loved rug covered the wooden floor, its pattern a mosaic of memories and spills easily forgiven and of course, a coffee table hand-crafted by Joel and intricately carved.

The shelves lining the walls were a treasure trove of family history. Photographs in mismatched frames captured smiling faces frozen in time, chronicling the evolution of Ellie through the years. A collection of well-read books, their spines creased and pages worn, stood proudly, offering a glimpse into the literary adventures that had unfolded within those walls.

The kitchen, the heart of many childhood homes, held the lingering aroma of Christmas dinner. The countertops, scarred from countless meals prepared and shared, were a testament to the love that had gone into creating family dinners. A worn wooden table in the center of the room bore witness to the countless conversations, celebrations, and moments of solace shared over shared meals.

"You know what, when I was around your age, I spent my fair share of time in the cooler, good to see you're taking after me," Tommy winks and gives me a hard pat on the back. Neither of them acknowledges the reason behind last night's events and somehow it feels worse than talking about it.

"We've just finished up making dinner, I'm sure you're hungry," Maria smiles softly, taking my hand into her calloused one.

"Yeah, I'm starving," I smile in return and trail behind the blonde woman to the dining table.

All of the plates are laid out with portions of food on each one, Ellie is sitting alone, spooning mashed potato into her mouth while she texts someone, she glances up at me and offers nothing more than a tight-lipped smile and awkward wave before going back to her phone. Tommy comes by with a tray of garlic butter rolls and uses tongs to add more onto my plate "Don't think I've forgotten how much you love these."

I grin up at him, I'm sitting in the same chair I sat in all those years ago when I Ellie and I would settle down after spending all day in the sun, Joel would ask us what we wanted for dinner and almost every time we would shout hotdogs.

"Good to have you back," Joel nods to me "House always felt a little empty without you."

I always felt a little empty without this house "Good to be back," I smear some mashed potato onto Tommy's famous garlic butter bread rolls.

I feel almost sick with nostalgia as I look around the dining room, Joel still had Ellie's crafts from elementary school hung up and if you look closely, you find little clues that I've left behind; proof that I once existed as a girl beneath this roof. There's a dent in the wall from the time I stood on my chair to catch a spider and accidentally fell over, my head hitting right into the wall, Ellie was laughing too hard to help me.

"So what school do you go to?" Maria asks me, washing down her pot roast with some ice water.

"Northridge actually," At my words, Ellie's head perks up, she's looking dead at me with a look of fear in her eyes.

"Oh, Ellie goes there!" Tommy smiles "She never mentioned that you do too."

Ellie is silently pleading with me, I know she doesn't want me to tell her family that she's been borderline tormenting me as my roommate and sending me to bed with tears in my eyes. I didn't plan on telling them anyway "That's funny, I guess we just keep missing each other."

Joel set up an air mattress in Ellie's room, that's when it became clear to me that he had no idea just how bad the fallout was between us. I hate to say that I missed her room and all of the memories we shared in it.

Ellie's bedroom resembled something of a teen guy who'd never gotten laid before. She had a navy comforter, her shelves were lined with comics and novels, I know for a fact that she'd read every single one of them. Her desk was always a mess, covered in pages of poetry and sketches that she had torn out from her journal. Almost every inch of her walls is covered in posters of bands, movies and her nerdy video games.

I was fresh out of the shower, finally in my clean clothes that I had dug out of my suitcase. I got to charge my phone too, there was an overwhelming number of messages.

D-Manz: HAPPY CHRISTMAS BITCH!!!!!!!!! I LOVE YOU AND CAN'T WAIT TO PARTY WHEN WE GET BACK

Jesse: Merry Christmas, hope your day isn’t shit! 😁😁😁

Riley: Merry Christmas! Hope you're having fun at your new school!

Abs: Merry Christmas and stay safe!

Kayla: Missing you girl ☹️ so excited for that staff party!

Kit-Cat: Merry Christmas, don't have too much fun without me

Yara: Merry Christmas ❤️ this probably isn't the time but I was hoping you could send over your notes from the last conservation lecture, just wanna text you before I forget!

566-460-4374: I got your number from Kyle, this is Roderick, I saw you last night and wanted to check up on you, hope everything is okay and merry Christmas.

Lindsey: Hey, haven't talked to you in a while but my parents said some stuff went down, just wanna make sure you're okay.

Ellie: Lmk if you need a ride back to our place

Ellie: Don't know if you can even see this but I got all of your stuff off the lawn, I promise it's safe 👍

Naomi: I'm so sorry

Naomi: I didn't think that would happen

Naomi: I didn't know what to do

Naomi: I love you

Aaron: U good?

Naomi: Please don't hate me, I'm sorry I didn't do anything

Elijah: Sorry but I wish you didn't tell Dad that

Naomi: I'll try to talk to Dad

Elijah: Hope you're safe

Elijah: Call me when you can

Still, there wasn't any word from either of my parents. I replied returning well wishes and assuring everyone that I was okay, I turned my phone onto Do Not Disturb and began to watch the Hunger Games on my phone. The room would've been pitch black if it wasn't for the blue light from my screen and the gentle beams of moonlight gliding through the window.

Ellie walks into the room after she finishes with her shower, she's in sweatpants and an old hoodie that she got from a rodeo, I had the same one, and we bought them together. I glance up at her before looking back at my movie and pulling the quilt further up my body. "You still like the Hunger Games?"

"Yeah," I say, being as brief as possible.

"You should take my bed and I'll sleep on the air mattress," Ellie says while she ties her hair into a low ponytail.

"I'm fine here, thanks."

"Seriously," Ellie is standing awkwardly at the foot of her bed, waiting for me to do something.

I shut my phone off and turned on my other side to face away from her "Just go to bed."

Ellie runs her hands down her face in frustration, she's starting to feel like an asshole "Please take the bed, it's the least I can do." I ignore her so she speaks again "I am begging you," She tells me bluntly "I feel like a dick and it would make me feel better if you just took the bed."

"You are a dick," I answer, she should've seen this response coming from a mile away.

"Please take the bed."

I sit up to look at her, frustration now boiling up inside of me "You're going to be nice now because you feel bad for me?"

"That's not why-

"It is actually," I tell her "This will last for a few days and then we'll go home and you'll be a cunt all over again, fucking keeping a list of everything I lay a finger on so you can say it's my fault if it breaks." She bites the inside of her cheek, that's her tell. Every time she does that I can tell that I've gotten under her skin. "You'll still act like you don't know me and I'm just some weird girl who thinks the world of you, I know what you say to those girls you have over, the walls aren't that thick." My insides ache from all of the screaming and crying of the past couple of days "And I know that I hurt you and I've told you a million times over that I'm sorry, you don't get to start having empathy for me now."

Ellie's silent again, she can't seem to find the words, so instead she slips under the covers of her bed, giving up. Minutes pass us, we've slept in this room together a thousand times but this time it's different, we don't share her queen bed and stay up all night watching the walking dead and talking shit about people at our school, we lay in the uncomfortable silence. We're grown but in this moment I still feel like a child searching for her mother's hand to guide her, I feel like my teeth still need to fall out so brighter, stronger ones can take their place, that the baby fat has yet to shed from my bones.

"I didn't know that you liked girls," Ellie said, breaking the silence "And I shouldn't have assumed that stuff about your parents." I don't respond to her, though she knows that I heard her. "I lied that night when you moved in."

"What?"

"I got all bitchy and said that you don't even cross my mind, I was lying," She's confessing to me as if I'm a priest "There wasn't a day that went by where I didn't think about you."

I'm not doing well.

I want nothing more than to crawl into bed next to Ellie and just hug her until I fall asleep but the resentment I've garnered for her these past months refrains me.

"I don't know if you ever knew this, but back in high school I had a bit of a crush on you," She says and my break hitches in my throat "Hey, you there?"

'I don't know if you ever knew this but I turned myself inside out trying not to be in love with you.' I don't say that, instead, I say "Goodnight, Ellie, Merry Christmas."

"Goodnight," She mutters, and like me, she turns her body to face away from me.

I don't feel mature in the slightest, I'm kept awake, haunted by shame and embarrassment. Ellie had seen me only one night prior, on my knees begging for love. We may be cold and calculated to one another now but I remember when she was a little girl who overwatered her plants because she didn't know how to stop giving.

TAG LIST I just tagged whoever wanted a part two: @elliesaesp @yalaysbee @laundrybag29 @readbydayana @elliesaturnsoftdrink @mikellie @melanie-watermelon @skylerwhitwyo

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queerprayers · 10 months

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do you have any tips for protestant christians who want to practice advent in a more ritualistic way?

Happy Advent, beloved! I love this question!

Hopefully this isn't too obvious but just in case: Advent wreaths were originally a Lutheran tradition and they're my favorite holiday ritual! I'm in the minority in that my church's Advent color is blue, but many people's are purple and pink. The Wikipedia page lists some different traditions—some people give a meaning to each candle. Generally people will have five and light one for each week of Advent and then one for Christmas. Advent is cut short this year (Advent 4 and Christmas Eve are the same day) but it's still never too late to start participating in a season! One day of mindful Advent is more precious than weeks of half-hearted Advent.

I have blue and gold candle holders, but many places sell Advent-specific candles and holders, or you can just get four or five candles (real or fake) from around the house and arrange them! I haven't gotten around to it yet this year but I like gathering evergreen branches from outside and arranging them in more of a proper wreath, but a fake wreath would work too, or just candles on a cloth or table.

I also saw this 20-minute Advent candle set, where you can light a candle each day and let it burn down while praying/meditating/writing. You could set a timer and do something similar with any type of candle. Candles are a staple of winter holidays for a reason—light and warmth, obviously, and there's something about having a natural source of those things existing in your house when so much of the rest of your life may be artificial. I thank God my house has heating, but I also seek out the ways this earth provides what we need, if we only know where to look.

Some form of counting down to Christmas is a main theme of Advent traditions, and I don't think this is a bad thing at all, although I do see my Advent wreath as more of a fulfillment than a countdown. I always encourage people to take at least a moment for just Advent. We could look at Lent as a countdown to Easter, but we might miss the journey. And after all, Holy Week and Easter is the culmination of our calendar, not Christmas. We are still in the beginning.

My family doesn't usually put up a Christmas tree until around the 23rd, and I don't listen to Christmas carols until Christmas Eve. I don't refuse to participate in secular/cultural Christmas events/traditions before then, but Christmas as religious practice is twelve days for us, starting the 25th. I have time to make room, to prepare. I'm listening to Advent music now, to ground myself in time. I don't say this because I think everyone should necessarily do this (by all means, find room for joy wherever you can), but because an Advent value that I find meaning in is patience. Christmas exists, joy exists, salvation exists—but what happens in the time before those things? What happens if we're not there yet, if we perhaps have to wait our whole lives? We do not know the future, but there are things we can see, and even more things we can trust in. How can we practice hoping for it all?

This year I'm reading Watch for the Light: Readings for Advent and Christmas (the last gift my grandfather gave me), and it's marking my days in a similar way candles do—connecting me with the world, setting aside time, bringing me back to why I exist the way that I do. There are countless devotional/topical books out there—as well as Watch for the Light, I would recommend Preparing for Christmas by Richard Rohr and Accompanied by Angels: Poems of the Incarnation by Luci Shaw (which can double as a Lenten/Easter book as well). I'm also looking forward to reading in future years Celtic Advent by David Cole and WinterSong by Madeleine L'Engle & Luci Shaw.

If you don't usually attend worship services, Advent is a lovely time to start—it's the new year, after all! My city has a caroling night downtown, and you could look for similar events in your community. You could also start new worship traditions—my uncle hosts a Christmas carol singing circle every year, and his apartment is squished full of happy people, some Christian and some not, singing until the neighbors complain.

Speaking of the new year, that's what this is for many of us, and one way we can acknowledge that is by thinking about the past year and/or the year to come. What was last Advent like for you? Where are you now? Why are you seeking out more ritual this year? Are there future seasons in the church year that you want to further observe? What joy and grief and community do you see on the road ahead of you? What can you not even begin to imagine? Advent can be a beginning for all of it, if you let it. And Advent is the ultimate time to contemplate the past and the future—as we remember Jesus coming two thousand years ago, as we experience him every day, and as we look to a second coming that none of us understand but can occasionally stand to ponder.

There are the little things, too—writing Christmas cards is very ritualistic for me, as well as making gifts, and preparing for Christmas in a material way, especially if it's for others, can be a lovely ritual! Volunteering, preparing a home, creating, writing, taking a walk--anything, really, can be a ritual if we do it purposely. We don't always have to add something to our life—we can live something we already live in a new way.

And then there's the other kind of practice: emptying. We talk about this most when we encounter Lent, but I think there's a place for it here, too (and always). I don't mean abandon our responsibilities/hobbies/relationships, but most of us have too much. It is a blessing to have, but it can also be a blessing to let go. Many of us overwork ourselves during December, at work, at school, financially, socially, around the house. I've learned to look at busy-ness as a gift, but I also work to not fill up my life until there's no room for the season. There are people who fast during Advent, but there are other ways to make space in our lives to fill up with God, and Advent encourages us to spend time in that space. God is coming, a thief in the night, a late guest, an overlooked baby. Do you have room? Do you still have the attention span and energy? Will you even notice?

Christmas is many things to many people, and preparing for it is similarly diverse. I'm carrying a lot of grief with me this year, from both family and world tragedy. I know a lot of people who feel pressured to be happy during the holidays, and that breaks my heart—and it also makes me wonder how much having a ritualistic Advent since I was a kid has helped me avoid that. Happiness was never a value my family held—it was beautiful, but not inherently holy. Emotions come and go. Love exists infinitely, and patience and hope can be practiced and lived out regardless.

There are so many traditions, especially in the US, that leave people hungering for ritual and material practice—I've found a lot of physicality in Lutheranism, similar to my Catholic family, but I know there are those who have never really had that. When we seek ritual, it's often because there's something (or many things) in our practice either growing up or currently that we don't have and seek—whether that's the sensory experiences of incense and stained glass, the daily habits of rosary or novena, the liturgical practice of seasons and services, choral and hymn-singing, contemporary music, contemplation, academia, casualness, relatability, mystery, social justice, huge gatherings, tiny meetings, or any of the other Christian experiences that usually traditions don't or can't have all at once. When we seek ritual, we seek what we don't have, but often find what we already have as well. So many things are rituals that we take for granted because we've always had them or gotten used them. Seek new rituals, and seek what is already in your life that you can decide to do. Take your traditions, and find the traditions you didn't receive but hunger for, and make a life. You have time—Advent happens every year, and as far as we know and can hope, we will have many more Advents.

Ultimately, ritual is doing it all on purpose. It's finding rhythm. So much of our lives are accidental, and this can be beautiful and holy, but you have come seeking the things we invite. And yet even things that happen to us can become purposeful, as Mary teaches us: "Let it be with me according to your word." Whether she had a choice is sometimes discussed, but to me often the more relevant question is how she dealt with what came her way. Ritual is taking what we are given and doing it on purpose, and Advent gives us a long tradition, passed down through generations, of active waiting. We have no choice but to wait for the future, but today we will do it with our eyes open. Act as if the world is going to turn upside down—and you will notice it is, all the time.

In Watch for the Light, Henri Nouwen writes, "A waiting person is a patient person. The word patience means the willingness to stay where we are and live the situation out to the full in the belief that something hidden there will manifest itself to us. Impatient people are always expecting the real thing to happen somewhere else and therefore want to go elsewhere. The moment is empty. But patient people dare to stay where they are. Patient living means to live actively in the present and wait there. Waiting, then, is not passive. It involves nurturing the moment, as a mother nurtures the child that is growing in her."

Whatever rituals you invite in or find that you already have, however you nurture the moments that make up this season, I pray they make room in your heart for what God can bring. As Rilke tells us (in teaching how to approach art, but what else are the mysteries of this season?), "Everything is gestation and then bringing forth. To let each impression and each germ of a feeling come to completion wholly in itself, in the dark, in the inexpressible, the unconscious, beyond the reach of one's own intelligence, and await with deep humility and patience the birth-hour of a new clarity."

<3 Johanna

#asks #if you can give lutherans nothing else. you gotta hand it to us for advent wreaths. we kinda went off with those

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the-empress-7 · 6 months

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This poem was written by D. Bonhoeffer, German theologist and member of the anti-nazi resistance around Christmas in 1943. He we executed in April of the following year.

I am not religious but this one has always been comforting so I would like to share it with you. And I know that Catherine will be carried by a loving nation

By loving forces...

By loving forces silently surrounded, I feel quite soothed, secure, and filled with grace. So I would like to live these days together, and go with you into another year.

Still matters of the past are pressing our hearts and evil days are weighing down on us. Oh Lord, to our souls, so scared and sore, give rescue, as it's that you made us for.

And when you pass to us the bitter chalice, filled with suffering to the brim and more, we take it, full of thanks and trembling not, from this, your caring and beloved hand.

But if you want to please us, over and again, with our shining sun and wondrous world, let us muse on what is past, and then we shall, with our lives, in all belong to you.

Warm and bright be our candles' flame today, since into gloom you brought a gleaming light, and lead again us, if you will, together! We know it: you are beaming in the night.

When silence now will snow around us ev'rywhere, so let us hear the all-embracing sound of greater things than we can see and wider, your world, and all your children's soaring hail.

By loving forces wonderfully sheltered, we are awaiting fearlessly what comes. God is with us at dusk and in the morning and most assuredly on every day.

#thank you #I am saving this for posterity

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rhondafromhr · 22 days

Text

Jason/Stacy QPR headcanons

-Started because Brenda set them up on a date sophomore year. They were both so nervous because they didn’t want to reject each other and ruin their friendship, but had never really had much of an inclination towards romantic relationships. Cue an extremely awkward date where they were both trying to perform romantic interest and were both comedically fucking bad at it until they finally couldn’t take it anymore and told each other how they were really feeling. After that, the pressure was off and they actually started to have a ton of fun, so they decided to keep going on dates. Eventually they became A Thing, although they didn’t quite have the vocabulary to describe it yet.

-Jason’s entire family adores Stacy. His mom loves going shopping with her and having little spa days and just doing fun stereotypically girly stuff. His dad likes that she can convince Jason to get out of his comfort zone, loosen up and have fun, because he can be a little anxious and hesitant. His little sister looks up to her and wants to be a cheerleader just like her when she gets into high school, so Stacy teaches her some cheers. Eventually she starts making up her own and constantly bugs Jason asking when Stacy’s coming over again so she can show her.

-Stacy’s family isn’t particularly religious, but she’ll still go to church with him and his family on Christmas and Easter. They always go to Beanie’s and get hot chocolate afterwards.

-Jason loves Valentine’s Day and until they were together, he was always left out and bummed that he didn’t get to celebrate just because he didn’t have a partner, so they go all out: cards, flowers, writing each other poems even though neither is that good at poetry, reservations at Pasqualli’s months in advance.

-Stacy doesn’t like romcoms that much, but she’ll watch them with Jason because he likes them. Jason doesn’t like French indie films, but he’ll watch them with Stacy because she likes them. They have a movie night every couple of weeks and take turns choosing.

-They want to go to different colleges. They’re nervous about it, Jason especially, but they both support each other and they feel confident enough in their relationship that they know they can handle long distance. They’re both actually looking forward to having more independence and getting to know themselves better before coming back together and moving in after graduation.

-They’re also excited to visit each other because they both love travel! Stacy’s the kind of person that can decide to go on a weekend trip on like a Friday afternoon, book it and leave that night. Jason’s the kind of person who plans his trips months in advance and has his airport outfit planned down to the socks.

-Stacy makes an effort to be more of a planner so she doesn’t make him too anxious and Jason tries to be a little more spontaneous and adventurous. She’s annoyed at being at the airport almost three hours early at first, but ends up really loving that habit because she doesn’t have to stress when the security lines are longer than expected and she has time to sit and sip a coffee.

#npmd #nerdy prudes must die #stacy hatchetfield #stacy npmd #jason jepson #hatchetfield #jason/stacy #someone suggested jacy as their ship name #jacy

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dk-wren · 9 months

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Buddy Daddies & “Silent Night”

Happy holidays and Merry Christmas!

I’ve been busy working on other projects, so no time to write a fic for Christmas. However, I still wanted to do something, and thinking about the work I do outside of here, this is what I came up with. So, to celebrate the season, and the anniversary of Miri falling into the lives of Kazuki and Rei, I present a brief history of “Silent Night” and its relevance/connections to Buddy Daddies!

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Brief History:

"Silent Night" was first performed in 1818 at the St. Nicholas Church in Oberndorf bei Salzburg, Austria. The lyrics were written by Father Joseph Mohr, which were originally adapted from a poem he had written two years previously, while the melody was composed by Franz Gruber. The song was originally written in German for two voices and an accompanying guitar, though an organ accompaniment was composed several years later (presumably along with an arrangement for a choir since it is traditionally performed in Austria during Christmas Eve Mass).

In Buddy Daddies, Miri is heard singing the first of six verses, which is probably the most well-known verse. When translated to English (first in 1858), and what I gather as the most common/used translation, or the one I am most familiar, only three verses are translated (verses 1, 6, and 2, in that order). Since its original performance/publication, "Silent Night" has been translated into over 300 languages and dialects.

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Connections to Buddy Daddies:

(Just to be upfront, this is more my interpretation. I also want to acknowledge that there are a lot of religious elements in this song, which I do not feel I can adequately address/discuss. Though I may be wrong, I also don't think the religious elements are really at play in Buddy Daddies)

First things first, it is more than a little ironic how the first time "Silent Night" is heard in Buddy Daddies, or when Miri enters the hotel in ep. 1, an instrumental version is heard in the background, and in ep. 12 during Miri's Christmas recital (also kind of in ep. 11 when Miri is practicing), a gunfight precedes or succeeds this song.

That being said, it works since those moments then act like the calm before or after the storm. While there will always be some craziness or hecticness in raising a four/five year old, the moments that Kazuki and Rei spend with Miri, especially after these fights, act as moments of comfort or reassurance that their family is all together and they have each other.

The final line we hear Miri sing, and of the first verse, "Sleep in heavenly peace," arguably represents Kazuki and Rei's wish for Miri: that she is safe, has nothing to truly worry about, and knows she is loved. Their drive and desire to let Miri sleep soundly at the end of every night is what causes them to choose their family over the organization and to fight back knowing that the organization disapproves of such "attachments" or the idea of Rei, Kazuki, and Miri being a family. While this scene is not connected to one of the times "Silent Night" is heard in Buddy Daddies, this comfort of having each other and being able to rest easy because of this feeling is also clearly seen in the ep. 3 after credits scene. The events of ep. 3 is the first time Kazuki, Rei, and Miri all seem to acknowledge that they are a family and will be staying by each other's side in the long run, which may then be why Rei quickly falls asleep as they are all relatively on the same page about their relationships to one another (and everyone he loves, whether or not he fully processes this yet, is safe next to him).

In having Miri sing this song at the end of ep. 12, the lines "All is calm, all is bright" also stand out because that is how Kazuki and Rei are seeing their future now. They've done everything in their power to walk away from the organization for good, and they did it without losing their lives. Now, their sole mission is to look after Miri and raise their daughter to be the best person she can be. The two walking into Miri's concert and standing in the back (not just because they were late, but because of their injuries) may give them some time for reflection about what they did that day and how that provided them the opportunity to successfully go after the future they've dreamed of.

Not directly related to the song, but during my research, I also found that another big accomplishment for lyricist Joseph Mohr was his role in building the first school in one village and setting up a fund that would help to cover the cost of education so that children from poorer families could still attend/be educated. His work as a priest could be interpreted as him having an affinity for providing for or working to better the lives of children. Considering how much Kazuki and Rei do to look after Miri's happiness and well-being, the personal life of the lyricist of "Silent Night" then adds some more depth into this song being featured throughout Buddy Daddies given Mohr's connections to looking after and taking into consideration the needs of growing children.

Thank you for reading! Hope you enjoyed this quick little exploration into "Silent Night." There were more things I wanted to include in the history section, but I felt it would have been too much or gotten too long. I hope the little bit I included was enough though and not too boring.

Happy holidays, everyone!

-Dakota Wren

(P.S. gonna slide this announcement into the bottom of my post, but you know how I wrote at the top I've been busy working on "other projects?" Well, that's because I am currently planning to do a celebration week leading up to the 1 year anniversary of Buddy Daddies premiere. If all goes according to plan, I will have something posted each day from Jan 1st-Jan 7th. If I need to switch to plan B, then expect a mega-post or multi-posts throughout the day on Jan 7th. So while I don't have any new content for the holiday season, expect some relatively soon with the new year. Thanks for reading and again, happy holidays!)

#buddy daddies #buddy daddies anime #silent night song #miri unasaka #rei suwa #kazuki kurusu

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nicosraf · 10 months

Note

if the abm cast were humans, how would they celebrate christmas? in this scenario lets pretend that christmas is just a fun winter holiday w/o any religious implications

because I'm with my family right now and dealing with mexican christmas hell, this answer will be informed by this and, for that, i apologize. but here is the answer:

Lucifer hosts exactly 15 different posadas/christmas-parties at his house in the month of December and each one is full of drama and fighting but he has live music and the food is delicious, so people keep coming. His house is overly decorated like a Christian influencer vlogger and he has a photoshoot with his flashy Christmas tree.

Michael loves a Christmas sweater but he's also too chilly to get out of bed most of the month. He celebrates Christmas by gifting everyone pajamas and going around the room hugging everyone and giving them a kiss on the cheek.

Rosier spends the entire week before Christmas cooking both for the Christmas Eve party and to go around feeding the neighborhood on Christmas day.

Asmodeus forgets about Christmas so he spends the day before the Christmas Eve party making everyone little dolls made out of wood and giving them hats. It's actually pretty sweet. He also gets absurdly drunk at the party.

Baal gets really drunk at the Christmas Eve party too and starts a small fight (with Michael probably). But he works really hard on his presents and spends most of the party eating and drinking his Michelob Ultra beer while sniffling.

Phanuel is the one who stops the fight between Baal and Michael. He also got everyone personalized gifts, though simpler stuff — for ex., he'd get Rosier a basket of fruit seeds and Michael some new weights. He also sings with the live band really emotionally for some reason.

Azazel does personalized gifts too, but he does more expensive things. For ex., he'd give Lucifer a Gucci coat and Michael a Prada shirt. He helps cause some of the Christmas Eve drama by spreading gossip.

Uriel spends Christmas alone, but I think he does get a few presents at his doorstep. Then, out of social obligation (or so he says), he mails a thank you letter, a piece of chocolate, and an excerpt from one of his books that makes him think of the angel. (For example, he sends Rosier a page from a poem about fruits)

Gabriel does the "everyone gets the same thing" gift method, like Michael, but it's a little bigger — like a Christmas-themed care package of food, trinkets, and a Christmas angel plushie. He loves to bake Christmas cookies, even if he's not super good at it, and to wear a Christmas hat with a bell at the end.

Raphael has trouble relaxing for Christmas, but I think Gabriel helps him out. I think he takes Christmas time to spend with his friends but also just to sleep and stroll around town (very slowly, since he's not great at waking, maybe Gabriel is with him.) I can see him spending most of Christmas sitting in a plaza and feeding the birds

Sorry this is so vivid Im just seeing this all Very clearly

#Lucifer would own a sexy santa outfit for sure #mine #ask

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god-has-entered-my-body · 5 months

Note

this is probably really random but seeing you don’t like sincerity is scary I was wondering what your favourite songs on each album are? <3

oh god okay so

Self titled goes like this:

Me (oh my christ)

Undo (I CAN HEAR YOU GIVING HER HEAD SHE SAID/I WANNA SEE YOU BUT YOURE NOT MINE)

M.O.N.E.Y (HAS HE GOT ENOUGH WEED? NO!!!)

Sex (can u guess why)

fallingforyou (i wrote a 95k word AU based off ths but its still number 5💔)

Iliwys:

lostmyhead (literally heaven in music form)

loving someone (the fuckig poem.)

paris (i did in fact romanticize heroin. soz matty, thinking of u @awellposhmagazine xx)

if i believe you (the bi monthly religious crisis is a massive fan of this song)

iliwys (ow.)

abiior:

give yourself a try (SHE WAS A KID WHO HAD THE BOX TATTOOED ON HER ARM!!!!)

i like america (KIDS DONT WANT RIFLES B NSN THEY WANT SUPREME)

mine (i love this song sm)

TOOTIME (YOU WET MY EYES BUT I DONT MIND IT BSDHSHJD BEST SONG EVER!!!)

its not living

notes:

The birthday party (holds such a dear place in my heart)

Frail state of mind (matty in skirts you will always be famous)

Bagsy (oh my god kill me)

Roadkill (matty in skirts u will always be famous pt.2)

Guys (always in my feels, love this song bc im an alto and can sing it rlly well)

bfiafl:

part of the band (ive listened to it 179 times since jan 1st.)

wintering (NOW STOP THE PERCUSSION I WANNA HAVE A DISCUSSION BUT ITS CHRISTMAS SO ITS GONNA BA NIGHTMARE)

Looking for somebody (to love) (pumped up kicks' younger, better sister i love her sm)

The 1975 (kill me this song is an eargasm)

Happiness (SHE SHOWED ME WHAT LOVE IS MHMHMHMHMH)

im a sincerity is scary hater until the day i DIE come at me i will fuck u up. also the end (mfc) is the better instrumental kiss my ball hairs @beforeyougo-turnthebiglightoff

#lena speaks #anons ily #dont judge me too hard #at least im not a giant snob when it comes to music #unlike some ppl #the 1975

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fictionadventurer · 11 months

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I saw your post from 2020 about your Four Quadrants and I absolutely love them! I have wanted to get into Chesterton for a while but have never actually done it bc I have no idea where to start. I decided that you’d be likely to know where I should start based solely on my relating so much to the rest of what your post said. Do you have recommendations?

There are several answers to this question, depending on what type of writing you're interested in, because Chesterton wrote in a lot of different formats.

Novels: My favorite (and the one that feels most "Chestertonian" in the sense of embracing the joys and paradoxes of modern life) is Manalive, which is about a boarding house full of disaffected young people whose lives are upended by the arrival of the energetic and eccentric Innocent Smith, who may or may not be a dangerous lunatic. I'm also fond of his first novel, The Napoleon of Notting Hill, which is set in the far future of 1984, where the actions of two eccentric guys get London caught up in medieval warfare. That book addresses Chesterton's common theme of the tension between taking life too seriously and not taking it seriously enough, but it is a very odd book that's a bit more of an acquired taste.

Short stories: Chesterton's most enduring legacy in pop culture is the Father Brown mysteries--one of the few detectives at the time that wasn't just a Sherlock Holmes clone. These stories are half mystery and half philosophical essay, and I love them (and they're nothing like the TV show). I always tell people to start with the first collection, The Innocence of Father Brown, because the first four stories there--"The Blue Cross", "The Secret Garden", "The Queer Feet" and "The Flying Stars"--form an arc that should be read in chronological order, and the rest of the stories can be read in pretty much any order.

Poetry: Chesterton's big achievement is "The Ballad of the White Horse", a novel-length epic poem about the legends of King Alfred the Great and his war against the Danes. But if you don't feel like reading something so long, his other masterpiece is "Lepanto", a stirring poem about the Battle of Lepanto that saved Europe from a Turkish invasion (though that one is much better if you know the historical context). He also wrote this short, rather biting anti-war poem "Elegy in a Country Churchyard".

If you want something not about war, Chesterton was known for his love of Christmas, and he wrote several excellent Christmas poems, including "A Christmas Carol", "The Wise Men", "Gloria in Profundis", "Joseph" , and "A Child of the Snows".

(As long as we're talking about Christmas poems, I'm going to mention that his wife, Frances, was also a poet, and she wrote a Christmas poem every year for their family Christmas card, which include, "How Far Is It To Bethlehem" and "The Shepherds Found Thee By Night".)

Essays: Tremendous Trifles contains several of the humorous, insightful essays that are among the first things I think of when I think of the Chestertonian mindset, including "A Piece of Chalk", "The Advantages of Having One Leg", and "On Lying in Bed" . Perhaps my favorite Chesterton essay, "On Running After One's Hat" isn't in this collection, but feels like it should be.

Nonfiction: "Orthodoxy" is probably Chesterton's most famous and most accessible religious book, which outlines the worldviews that led him to embrace Christianity.

This last recommendation doesn't fit into any of the categories, but I can't finish a Chesterton introduction post without begging you to read this letter he wrote to his wife, Frances, not long after their engagement, because it may be one of the best love letters ever written.

#answered asks #g.k. chesterton #poetry #frances chesterton #father brown #manalive #the napoleon of notting hill #the ballad of the white horse #lepanto #orthodoxy

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learningscutie2914 · 11 months

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SIR GAWAIN AND THE GREEN KNIGHT

A chivalric romance poem written during the medieval period has a known metric form called the bob (each stanza ends with a short-half line of only two syllables) and the wheel (a mini-stanza of longer lines that rhyme internally).

Sir Gawain and the Green Knight portray the knighthood virtues of executing a chivalrous code all throughout his journey with the observance of religious faith and being morally upright. On that note, this Arthurian legend revolves around how Sir Gawain, the main character, accepts the challenge of the Green Knight called the “beheading game,” which took place in the kingdom of Camelot, where people, together with their King named Arthur, are celebrating Christmas and New Year's Eve with games, feasts, music, and gifts, which made me realize that this poem is also relevant to the way we Filipinos celebrate the same event. The initiative and loyalty of Sir Gawain to his king and to the community of Camelot were evident the moment he accepted the challenge. I delved into the idea that as long as we have the courage to fulfill our role, it is easy for us to do it. Furthermore, the struggles of Sir Gawain began when he was looking for a Green Knight for their quest, in which he encountered monstrous animals, bad weather conditions, and the sexual advances of Lady Bertilak, the wife of Lord Bertilak, who happened to be the Green Knight, as revealed in the ending of the story. I was amazed at how Sir Gawain was truly dedicated to fulfilling his promise and maintaining his loyalty by facing the danger that awaited him, which symbolizes how a person in a real-life context combats the trials brought on by situations or the people around us. Moreover, the mentioned dilemma was the scheme set by Morgan Lay Faye the old lady of Hutdessert, Sir Gawain’s aunt and king Arthur’s half-sister, only to test Gawain’s loyalty to the king and, due to her insecurities to the queen of Camelot, at the same time the wife of king Arthur named Guinevere. It is observable that there are people who will try to drag us down, whatever the reasons are. To cut the story short, Gawain’s accepted the symbolic green girdle given by Lady Bertilak for Sir Gawain to attain immortality; it was a matter of death and life situation, and I would do the same for myself to survive. In line with that, the moment Sir Gawain struck an axe and wounded the green knight, he also found out that Bertilak, the king of the palace where he had stayed for the past three days, was actually the green knight. Later, he came back to the kingdom of Camelot, wearing the symbolic green girdle as a reminder of his weakness. In spite of that, King Arthur and the community of Camelot warmly accepted him. I relate it to the parents and child situation, where whatever downfall the child may have been through, the parents will always be there to guide and accept them wholeheartedly.

Taking everything into account, the bravery, courage, and loyalty serve as a motif of this poetry made the readers think that loyalty is much more worthy than victory, and everyone has their own weaknesses, so accepting and improving them to become their strengths is the best thing to do, which denotes the quote of Franklin D. Roosevelt that “courage is not an absence of fear, but rather the assessment that something else is more important than fear”.

Your idea is highly appreciated! With that said, feel free to share your insights about the question below.

What does it mean to be a righteous human being in a brutal world?

#literature #educational #arthurian legend #the green knight #sir gawain

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themousefromfantasyland · 2 years

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The Creatures of Yuletide: The Giant Grýla and her dysfunctional Yule Family

Some days ago, I talked with @ariel-seagull-wings about how Ded Moroz, Grandfather Frost, and his granddaughter Snegurochka, the Snow Maiden, were probably the only holiday figures that were related. I WAS WRONG.

Iceland produced a family so colorful and dysfunctional that it’s a crime there are still no sitcoms based around them. Some members of this family are already famous, others not so much and will have a spotlight today. @thealmightyemprex, my dear, I think you are going to like this family.

Today, we are talking about the giants Grýla and Leppalúði, their yule children, and their giant pet.

Grýla is a giantess said to live in a cave in Dimmuborgir, an area of various volcanic caves and rock formations located in the Myvatn area of north Iceland. Others believe she and her family simply live in an unidentified mountainous area.

Always hungry, she senses the smell of naughty children all year, and during Christmastime, she leaves her cave and comes to cities and towns to haunt them. She collects children in an enormous sack, then brings them back to her cave. There she will cook them in a pot and turn them into a giant stew that will sustain her until the next winter.

Surprisingly, Grýla has been married THREE times, having KILLED her first and second husbands, and EATEN the first. Her third and current husband is the giant Leppalúði. Grýla is often shown beating and berating her husband that is described as being lazy, staying behind in their cave, while Grýla searches for food.

The relationship between Gryla and Leppaludi echoes many villainous couples in sagas and legends from Iceland that were composed of a cruel and bloodthirsty woman with a pathetic, spineless husband.

The threat of Grýla was a means to scare children and put them in line, since winters in Iceland were incredibly dangerous, and there was a lot of work that needed to get done before the darkest months set in, requiring effort from all members of the family. It was also a way of protecting children from wandering alone at night, as many disobedient children who went out in the dark and snow never returned home.

Grýla is originally mentioned in the 13th-century compilation of Norse mythology, Prose Edda but no specific connection to Christmas is mentioned until the 17th century.

In the thirteenth century, she was described as having fifteen tails. In the seventh century, she had a hundred bags tied to each tail, with each bag containing twenty naughty children for her pot.

The Yule Lads, are the mischievous offspring between Grýla and Leppalúði. They arrive one by one over the final nights leading up to Christmas, pulling pranks on the humans they find. Originally they were described as being far meaner and more evil, being as monstrous and deformed as their parents, representing the dangers and nuisances of Winter. But by the 18th century, a royal decree about religious practice and domestic discipline banned parents from disciplining their children by scaring them with horror stories of monsters, like Grýla and her family.

By the end of the 19th Century, wealthy merchants began hosting public Christmas tree balls, turning the Yule Lads into friendly old men who brought treats. These versions of the characters first appeared in towns and villages, while their original counterparts survived longer in the countryside. But by the 1930s their transformation had been completed as they begin making regular visits to schools and making appearances on the radio to tell children stories and sing Christmas songs. Today they are gift-bringers like Santa, leaving small gifts in shoes that children place on window sills, but if the child has been disobedient, they leave a rotten potato in the shoe instead.

Originally the personalities and number of Yule Lads varied greatly, but thanks to a poem from 1932 by Jóhannes úr Kötlum in the children’s book Christmas is Coming (Jólin koma), still very popular and recited in many Icelandic homes and schools in December, established what is now considered the canonical 13 Yule Lads and their names and personalities.

Here’s the poem, translated by Hallberg Hallmundsson:

Let me tell the story of the lads of few charms, who once upon a time used to visit our farms.

Thirteen altogether, these gents in their prime didn´t want to irk people all at one time.

They came from the mountains, as many of you know, in a long single file to the farmsteads below.

Creeping up, all stealth, they unlocked the door. The kitchen and the pantry they came looking for.

Grýla was their mother – she gave them ogre milk – and the father Leppalúdi; a loathsome ilk.

They hid where they could, with a cunning look or sneer, ready with their pranks when people weren´t near.

They were called the Yuletide lads – at Yuletide they were due – and always came one by one, not ever two by two.

And even when they were seen, they weren´t loath to roam and play their tricks – disturbing the peace of the home.

The first of them was Sheep-Cote Clod. He came stiff as wood, to pray upon the farmer´s sheep as far as he could. He wished to suck the ewes, but it was no accident he couldn´t; he had stiff knees – not to convenient.

The second was Gully Gawk, gray his head and mien. He snuck into the cow barn from his craggy ravine. Hiding in the stalls, he would steal the milk, while the milkmaid gave the cowherd a meaningful smile.

Stubby was the third called, a stunted little man, who watched for every chance to whisk off a pan. And scurrying away with it, he scraped off the bits that stuck to the bottom and brims – his favorites.

The fourth was Spoon Licker; like spindle he was thin. He felt himself in clover when the cook wasn´t in. Then stepping up, he grappled the stirring spoon with glee, holding it with both hands for it was slippery.

Pot Scraper, the fifth one, was a funny sort of chap. When kids were given scrapings, he´d come to the door and tap. And they would rush to see if there really was a guest. Then he hurried to the pot and had a scrapingfest.

Bowl Licker, the sixth one, was shockingly ill bred. From underneath the bedsteads he stuck his ugly head. And when the bowls were left to be licked by dog or cat, he snatched them for himself – he was sure good at that!

The seventh was Door Slammer, a sorry, vulgar chap: When people in the twilight would take a little nap, he was happy as a lark with the havoc he could wreak, slamming doors and hearing the hinges on them sqeak

Skyr Gobbler, the eighth, was an awful stupid bloke. He lambasted the skyr tub till the lid on it broke. Then he stood there gobbling – his greed was well known – until, about to burst, he would bleat, howl and groan.

The ninth was Sausage Swiper, a shifty pilferer. He climbed up to the rafters and raided food from there. Sitting on a crossbeam in soot and in smoke, he fed himself on sausage fit for gentlefolk.

The tenth was Window Peeper, a weird little twit, who stepped up to the window and stole a peek through it. And whatever was inside to which his eye was drawn, he most likely attempted to take later on.

Eleventh was Door Sniffer, a doltish lad and gross. He never got a cold, yet had a huge, sensitive nose. He caught the scent of lace bread while leagues away still and ran toward it weightless as wind over dale and hill

Meat Hook, the twelfth one, his talent would display as soon as he arrived on Saint Thorlak´s Day. He snagged himself a morsel of meet of any sort, although his hook at times was a tiny bit short.

The thirteenth was Candle Beggar – ´twas cold, I believe, if he was not the last of the lot on Christmas Eve. He trailed after the little ones who, like happy sprites, ran about the farm with their fine tallow lights.

On Christmas night itself – so a wise man writes – the lads were all restraint and just stared at the lights.

Then one by one they trotted off into the frost and snow. On Twelfth Night the last of the lads used to go. Their footprints in the highlands are effaced now for long, the memories have all turned to image and song

Okay, we have the abusive mother, we have the lazy father, we have the troublemaking sons, but we still haven’t talked about the pet. You know what I’m talking about. I think he’s probably the most famous one in this post, at least outside Iceland. Yes, the Yule Cat is their family cat.

The Yule Cat, Jólakötturinn, is a monstrous giant cat that devours innocent souls that have not received any new clothes to wear before Christmas Eve.

Jóhannes úr Kötlum also wrote about the cat. Here’s the poem, translated by Vignir Jónsson:

You all know the Yule Cat and that Cat was huge indeed.

People didn't know where he came from or where he went.

He opened his glaring eyes wide, the two of them glowing bright. It took a really brave man to look straight into them.

His whiskers, sharp as bristles, his back arched up high. And the claws of his hairy paws were a terrible sight.

He gave a wave of his strong tail, he jumped and he clawed and he hissed. Sometimes up in the valley, sometimes down by the shore.

He roamed at large, hungry and evil in the freezing Yule snow. In every home people shuddered at his name.

If one heard a pitiful "meow" something evil would happen soon. Everybody knew he hunted men but didn't care for mice.

He picked on the very poor that no new garments got for Yule - who toiled and lived in dire need.

From them he took in one fell swoop their whole Yule dinner always eating it himself if he possibly could.

Hence it was that the women at their spinning wheels sat spinning a colorful thread for a frock or a little sock. Because you mustn't let the Cat get hold of the little children. They had to get something new to wear from the grownups each year.

And when the lights came on, on Yule Eve and the Cat peered in, the little children stood rosy and proud all dressed up in their new clothes.

Some had gotten an apron and some had gotten shoes or something that was needed - That was all it took. For all who got something new to wear stayed out of that pussy-cat's grasp he then gave an awful hiss but went on his way.

Whether he still exists I do not know. But his visit would be in vain if next time everybody got something new to wear.

Now you might be thinking of helping were help is needed most. Perhaps you'll find some children that have nothing at all.

Perhaps searching for those that live in a lightless world will give you a happy day and a Merry, Merry Yule.

Of all the members of the family, the Yule Cat is the most recent one, with written accounts only as recently as the 19th century. The story was likely created by farmers to ensure their workers finished their weaving, knitting, and sewing by the dead of winter. The reward for those who took part in the work was a new piece of clothing. Those who were lazy received nothing. The Yule Cat was used as an incentive to get people to work harder.

Resuming, we have an abusive mother that haunts and eats naughty children, a spineless father who stays at home all day doing nothing, thirteen rebellious children who seem to have been hanging out too much with Santa, and a giant cat that eats people. I would give anything to see how their Christmas dinners are like.

#The Creatures of Yuletide #christmas #holiday season #iceland #icelandic folklore

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