#my brother in Christ YOU CAUSED THE DISTURBANCE!!!!!!!! | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

slxsherwriter · 20 days

Text

You and I May Never Get This Right

Fandom: Lake Placid

Pairing: Jim Bickerman x reader

Word count: 4,479

Warning: Hospitalization, mention of serious injuries (loss of limbs), ptsd, panic attacks, age gap relationships,

Author's Note: Don't hate me for how I ended this. There may be more in the future. As always, not beta read. Mistakes are mine. Likes are always appreciated, but reblogs and comments are cherished and feed the brain.

Tagging: @slashingdisneypasta & @tinalbion

The ringing of the phone interrupted the quiet peace. The sound was wholly unexpected and caused you to jolt. The mindless haze that you had fallen in going through the familiar motions of fishing. After the hellish week that you had at work, a trip out into the woods for a few days on your own consisting of fishing and camping had been just what you needed. You had thought for sure that you wouldn't have service out here but apparently, that had been a mistake.

There was an instance where you debated ignoring it entirely. If it was your place of employment, you might just throw the phone into the pond. Despite how much it would cost to replace. Something in your gut told you that you had to pick it up. Groaning, you pushed up from your chair, carefully setting aside your fishing pole so it didn't end up in the water if something did bite in the absence, and moved back towards your camp and your tent.

Rummaging around, it had stopped ringing only to start up again. Whoever was calling clearly needed to speak with you. Finally, you freed the object from the bag but didn't recognize the number at all. No business was coming up.

“Hello?” Whoever was on the other end of the line sounded professional. One of those scripted sorts of voices. They wanted to confirm that you were you before saying anything else. Frowning, you did as asked and confirmed who you were before more information came. It was a hospital calling about James Bickerman. There had been some sort of incident? Something about him being brought to the hospital in bad shape and there needing to be someone there that could make decisions. Your number was the only thing listed.

“Um, uh, yeah. Yeah. I gotta grab a flight. I can be there within the day, though, hopefully no more than a few hours, but I don't know when I'll be able to get a flight out. Did you need me to do anything before that? I will have my phone on me the entire time.” They asked about blood transfusions and life-saving measures such as intubation and CPR. Jesus Christ, what the hell had Jim managed to get into?

Jim Bickerman was a name that you hadn't heard in several long years. He had been your older brother's best friend. You had been the accident, with your brother close to twenty-five years older than you. The two were as thick as thieves, always getting into trouble and mischief. By the time that you were a teenager, you were sucked into that sort of trouble. With a smaller stature, you could slip into places that they couldn't. An innocent face that most people believed when you lied for them. A look out that could actually be trusted to do the job. You fit all those sort of roles for them. Of course, it was cliche, but you had a crush on the man. Not that you had expected anything to come to fruition in regards to it, keeping the fact to yourself the best that you could. A drunken night in your mid twenties resulted in a closeness that had developed further into what could have been considered a relationship. Was your brother thrilled with it? He went back and forth. He liked the fact that he knew the man that you were with, but at the same time, he was a bit freaked out and disturbed that it was his best friend.

Things had been really good for quite a while. There were a few bumps in the road in terms of getting in trouble with the law, but nothing that major or that you couldn't get over. After all, while you were in constant mischief and trouble, it wasn't the major sort that would see any of you going away to prison for any sort of extended time. All the local bars and police officers knew you all by first name.

Life had a way of happening, though. While you had all come from relatively nothing, being poor and scraping and scrapping in order to get by, Jim had this sort of intense and overwhelming drive for money. Enough so that it started to cause the two of you to clash every now and then. The passing of your mother and then followed by your brother in seemingly rapid succession had seemed to be the final nail in the coffin. You had to get out of Maine, get away from the mess that had taken over your life. The fact hadn't been taken well by Jim, who refused to leave. He was supposed to be getting the cabin that he had grown up in. The cabin was something that he was not willing to give up on. Things had quickly devolved from there for you both, to the point that it made it easy to walk away. Well, easier than it had been at first. Even if you had hoped something more would have come from the man. It had hurt and had been hard, even if his behavior made the decision more justified. He has tried to get you to stay but the cabin had been more important.

That had been close to ten years ago. A part of your life that you had left in the past. A fresh start had done wonders for you. Trouble with the law had vanished from your life. You had gotten a stable job, one that you didn't exactly enjoy, but it paid the bills well enough and allowed you the ability to have weekends to yourself. That allowed plenty of fishing and camping trips, with the occasional interruption.

Now, that peace had been thoroughly shattered. You had never expected for Jim to still have your name down as an emergency contact. That heavy feeling that had invaded your chest during that first call remained, growing worse the longer things went on. A few more phone calls came from the doctors. Assurance that he was alive, but it seemed like he needed multiple surgeries, and they had to start to be able to save what they could.

When the plane landed, you felt fully sick to your stomach. Renting a car felt like it took far too long. The familiar paths hadn't changed all that much since you had been awhile. Land a little more developed here and there, but that was barely acknowledged. Arriving at the hospital, your only thought was laying eyes on Jim. The picture that had been painted had not been pretty, and there was only so much that could be done to brace yourself for it. Sitting behind the wheel, finally parked at the hospital, your hands shook, and it felt like you couldn't breathe. Could you do this again? Was it going to be a repeat of your brother all over? Sweat trickled down your neck, and your vision blurred for a moment. Fumbling for the handle of the door, you managed to throw it open, leaning out and gasping. Thankfully, no one was around to see the near breakdown.

It took several long minutes for you to be able to calm down and regain control of your breathing so it didn't seem like you had run here instead of drove. Ending up in a bed next to Jim wouldn't do any good for either of you. Counting each breath, inhaling for a few seconds, holding, and then exhaling for the same amount of time.

Feeling just slightly more put together, you headed inside. The lady at the desk was hardly helpful, but the security guard was someone that you recognized. A man that you had gone to school with, and he was kind enough to lead you to the right floor, where the doctors had taken over from there. Now that you were there in person, you were able to get far more information than what they had provided over the phone. The accident? A crocodile attack. Jim had lost his left arm and his left leg. There had been internal bleeding that had been difficult to stop, a laceration to his liver the cause. His left eye had been damaged to the point that it had to be removed, a rock having lodged into the orbital socket as a result of the attack.

He had just gotten out of surgery by the time that you had managed to get through. They didn't expect him to wake for several hours, if that. With the blood loss, trauma, and surgery, he was alive, but that didn't guarantee anything. While you weren't prepared to go to the room, there was little choice in the matter. No one would make you, but you were there and had to go see him.

The sight of the man in the bed caused your knees to go weak. The nurse that had brought you to the room attempted to soothe you by placing a hand on your back.

“It's okay.” No. No, it wasn't. The body in the bed was almost unrecognizable. Pale, bandaged, and hooked up to a load of machines. Hell, his face looked a little sunken in even. He hardly looked like the Jim you knew. Even if that Jim was several years younger than the Jim in the bed. Crossing your arms to give your fingers something to grasp, you moved forward and took a seat in the chair beside the bed.

“Thank you.” A brief utterance to the nurse. The only other noise in the room was the beat of the heart rate monitor and the hiss of the supplemental oxygen that they had him on. Closing your eyes, you tried to ignore the rush of blood in your ears, trying to grasp onto the machine generated beep. Steady. It wasn't too fast or too slow. It helped give you something to focus on and bring yourself down. If you weren't so worried at the moment, you would have been cursing up a storm and yelling at him. Unconsciously or not. They said that people in comas and such could hear what was being said to them after all. For now, though, all you could do was sit there and let the worry eat you alive. The steady rise and fall of his chest, on his own without mechanical intervention, wasn't enough to ease it.

*****************

At some point, you must have nodded off, sleep pulling you under without warning. You remembered staring off out the window while hoping Jim would wake up. The next thing you knew, you were cracking your eyes open against the bright light of the morning and a nurse standing over the bed, doing a vitals check.

“The least ya can do for an old man is get him a drink.” His voice was rough, but there was no mistaking it for anyone else. He was alive and awake.

“The last thing you need right now is a drink, you old bastard,” you replied before the nurse could, standing up out of the seat and shifting to the edge of the bed. Jim's eye wandered the room for a moment before finally settling on you. It took a second for the light of recognition to appear, and somehow, he managed a smile.

“Well, hey there, dumpling.” You couldn't help the roll of your eyes at the pet name. But right then, there would be no calling him out on it. “What are you doing here?” It was actually a viable question. His faculties, what little he started with, seemed to be intact. Which was a good sign. A low sigh escaped from you, and his brow furrowed.

“Apparently, I'm still listed as your emergency contact. And since you went off on some suicide mission, I got the call.” A pause. Swallow. Stay composed. Don't let him know how deeply affected you were by this. “And as much as I wanted to stay fishing, I couldn't let your dumb ass die.” Something indescribable passed over his face. Nothing that you could place. All before that familiar smirk had appeared once more.

“Maybe I should get myself chewed on a little more often if it's gonna be bringing you around.” The nurse excused herself, giving you two a little time. Even if you tried desperately to keep her presence in the room for the sake of your sanity. Being alone with the man and this out of control of your emotions was not a good combination.

“You're an absolute ass. I see that a near death experience hasn't changed that.”

“Aww, come on. Ya gotta be nice to me, dumpling. I'm a cripple now.” The tease about his condition fell just a little flat. At least he seemed to be taking it in stride. You weren't sure you would be able to manage even snark if you were lying in bed like that. The comment managed to bring a smile, one that you hadn't thought would come. Maybe it was tinged with relief that he was himself and that familiarity felt good under the circumstances. You hadn't had this chance with your brother.

“Cripple or not, you're still a grumpy bastard.” He has the audacity to wink playfully or make the attempt, and there was no stifling the small laugh that just broadened his own smile. Jim would always be Jim. And as much as you had tried to put it all behind you, you had missed the man. His hand had found yours in those quiet seconds and gave it a small squeeze. Not begrudging him the comfort, if that was what he needed, you returned the gesture and kept your fingers laced with his.

“Maybe so, but it never bothered ya before. If anything, think it's what attracted ya in the first place.” Pulling your chair closer, you shook your head. Might as well get settled in since it was going to be a bit before you got out of here. You couldn't bring yourself to be annoyed about the fact either. He was alive and the relief that came with that fact was near overwhelming.

*****************

“For fuck sakes….” The phrase might as well have been tattooed on you somewhere with how often it was uttered up into the air. As if some twisted prayer. A desperate cry for strength to tolerate the horrible patient that was before you.

“Ah, just in time. Come on over here and help me with this, sweetheart.”

“Jim….” You paused and took a slow breath. How the nurses hadn't entirely lost it on him was beyond comprehension. Or maybe they were just drawing straws on rotation to see who was dealing with him next. “Get your ass back in bed! You aren't going anywhere.”

“Aww, come on. You don't have to be like that. We’re just going on a short walk.” He used we, as in plural, including you in whatever plan he had in mind. “Can't stare at these walls anymore. And like hell I'm being pushed around in that chair.” The words stirred up a sense of sympathy. He couldn't be blamed for going stir crazy stuck in the room for three weeks now while healing and starting rehab. His prosthetics had been in early in the week, and while he was still learning to walk with the new leg, he wasn't keen on waiting before pushing himself, it seemed.

Jim was hopping on his one leg, trying to get the pants that you had brought him in a change of clothes at the beginning of the week, settled on his waist.

“I know you are going stir crazy. Hell, I am at this point just visiting you, and I get to leave. But you can't be pushing yourself too much, or you are just going to be stuck here longer than necessary. Such a thing as setting back your own recovery.”

“Sweetheart, I'm fixing to jump out that window if I don't get out of this room for something other than rehab. So, you can help me or head out so you don't get in trouble.” Groaning, you glanced towards the ceiling, counting back from ten before moving forward to help him finish getting dressed. The closeness allowed him to get a few cheeky touches in, all under the guise of keeping his balance and such. You knew better but were unbothered by it. Being here had brought all those feelings right back to the surface and damn it if you still didn't love the man.

“Since you can't be trusted to keep yourself in one piece or not to do something foolish, guess I'm stuck helping you. See, this is how I ended up in trouble when we were younger. All your damn fault.” He laughed.

“Way I remember it you were all too eager to help.” How could this man still make you feel like a teenager with a silly crush.

“Young, impressionable, and dumb. That's what I'm calling it.” You gave him a little push to get him back on the bed, causing him to chuckle, all before helping him make sure the prosthetic was in place. Him hopping around would attract too much attention. You winced at the still raw looking around. The surgeons had done a fantastic job. “You sure? This still looks like it's not gonna feel great, Jim.”

“Oh, I'm more than sure.” You nodded and got him settled. He kept an arm around your shoulders, both as an excuse to hold you and an extra support as he moved along.

“Come on then, let's get you moving a bit. We are only going for a short walk, okay? Then it's back in bed.”

“Yes, ma'am.” He laughed, and you rolled your eyes but smiled nonetheless. Glancing out into the hall, none of the nurses seemed to be paying attention. A few tentative steps were taken before you both realized no one was going to stop you. “You uh, you didn't bring anything to drink this time, didcha?” The man was impossible. But, he had broken you down with the requests.

“Just keep walking for a bit here, okay.”

“Ya did. Knew I could count on you.”

“As if that would ever change?” The comment slipped before you could think about it. Out in the open now, and he would take it as he pleased. Getting into the elevator, you hit the button to lead you down to the cafeteria. There was a coffee shop close to it where you could at least get a decent dose of caffeine. He could mix his alcohol with it to hide it from the nurses. The minimal amount that you had gotten in.

“Easy there, buttercup. Give me a second.” The strain to the words told you that he was hurting more than he let on, and you instantly pulled to a stop, allowing him to lean against the wall and gain his breath back.

“Better than I thought we would do, actually. Let's get you to the chairs up there, and I'll get us some coffee.” He nodded, giving it another minute before pushing himself off of the wall and bracing himself further against you. It was no more than twenty feet. Once he was settled into the chair, you moved off to get the promised coffee.

Since you couldn't juggle both coffees and get the alcohol into his, you had to settle for carrying both of them back and plopping down into the seat beside him.

“Here, hold mine for a second…” You passed him the cup that you knew for a fact was yours before reaching into the pocket of your jacket and pulling out a small flask. One that Jim had actually gifted you, though that wasn't anywhere near the forefront of your mind.

“That the one I got you for your twenty-first?” The question didn't register at first as you poured a little bit of the liquor into the cup before a hum came from him, attempting to catch your attention.

“I'm sorry, what?” You looked up as you finished, putting the cap back on the small flask and taking your coffee back, holding his out to him. He repeated the question, causing you to blink for a second and look down at the pocket that you had safely tucked the flask in. “Uh, yeah, yeah, it is.” A sound came from him, something that you couldn’t entirely identify and didn't really want to right then as he decided to take a sip of his drink instead.

Once the cups were empty and the coffee was finished, you had felt that he had been out of his room long enough. The nurses were going to ream you for having him out this long, but it had helped him and would hopefully keep him feeling a little less ornery for the next day or so.

“All right, let's get you back to your room.” The walk was a little slower, with him feeling the effects of the walk on his still healing body. It was wholly unsurprising if anyone were to ask your opinion. Getting him back to bed, he was wincing and unable to hide it. It made you feel just a bit bad, though you knew that he would say it was worth it.

“Thanks, sweetheart,” he murmured softly, so softly that you almost missed it. His eyes were closed as he reclined back in the bed, clearly spent from the small outing. Smiling to yourself, you settled down in the chair, deciding to spend the rest of the afternoon with the man, even if he slept through it.

***************************************

“Ya know….” Jim was drawing out his words, which meant that he was waiting for you to turn your attention in his direction. Some things never changed. You finally turned to look at him after stuffing the last shirt into the bag. “You don't have to leave.” He was leaning against the doorframe, not quite looking at you. This had the beginnings of a conversation that you really didn't want to have. It hadn't gone well for you before.

“I've used up all my time off. And then some. I have to get back before I don't have a job to go back to. You're home, Jim. Able to be independent. You are back on your feet and don't need me around anymore.” You almost said that you didn't have a reason to stay. Because technically, it was true. You didn't have a reason to stay. Your feelings weren't enough. At least, that was what you kept telling yourself in hopes of making this entire thing easier. It hadn't really worked. That ache that had happened when you had left the first time all those years ago was just as strong now as it had been then. It made the most sense to leave. Just as it had back then. You had a nice little life set up for yourself. Being here? Well, it would be a hard decision.

“You don’t have to go. You're back here. It’s where you should be.” He was going to make this difficult. Apparently, time did not heal all wounds. He was standing in the doorway and refusing to move out of the way. Maybe this whole incident had given him a slightly new perspective on life. “I know you don't want to go back either. So, why are you going to do what you don't want to do? Not like you had ever done something you didn't want to do before, Why with this?” There wasn’t a good answer there. Because everything felt far too convoluted and messy. There were reasons to stay and reasons to leave. His gaze had finally turned to you and felt heavy, practically pinning you in your place.

“Because it is not a smart idea, Jim. Staying around. It's better for me to leave.”

“That's bullshit. You can't bullshit a bullshitter, dumpling.” Yeah, that was hard to argue with.

“Jim, please can we not…” He huffed, though he had clearly decided that he wasn't going to let go of this issue. If there was one thing that Jim Bickerman could be called without a doubt, it was stubborn.

“You coulda left my old ass to die. But you didn't. You still came out and stayed. You coulda made those decisions and left.” He was right. Why did he have to be right? It made any argument that you made to leave that much more difficult. Slowly, his lips turned upwards slightly, as if he knew he had won this part of the argument. You sighed and rubbed your eyes.

“What do you want me to say?” He had worked around every single phrase besides I want you to stay the first time that you had left. It was his turn to show his frustrations over the entire thing. His hand and hook waved in the air for a moment, though the words didn't come.

“I want you to say that I'm right and that you want to stay.” He wasn't going to let this go. Could you say that you didn't want to? Could you say that you wanted to? The words were stuck in your throat. Why did he have to make this so damn difficult? The treacherous voice in the back of your mind whispered that it wasn't him that was making it difficult. He had tried the first time around, maybe not as hard as you had hoped somewhere deep within, but he had certainly tried. This was him trying again. Maybe you had foolishly hoped he had moved on, that things had changed. Yet, it was the same scenario all over again. Except, it felt more serious than it had last time.

Looking at him should have reminded you why you decided it was better to distance yourself. He made stupid decisions in chasing after money and whatever big payday that he thought was next. But Jim was loyal and underneath it all there was some part of him that was good-hearted. Even if it took a few layers to get through. Others often didn't get to see it.

You weren't able to get a response out, apparently taking too long for his liking. Because the next thing you knew, he was stepping forward, invading your space like he used to do all those years ago. Guess the old man wasn't feeling all that old at that moment. No words came. Instead, he hooked a hand around the back of your neck and pulled you into a kiss. One last desperate attempt to get you to agree to stay.

“Say you want to stay.” The words came out far softer this time, almost a plea. Almost.

“Jim…” You forced yourself to meet his gaze, decision made.

#horror writing #villain writing #villain x reader #creature feature writing #jim bickerman #Jim Bickerman x reader #lake placid #lake placid fic #robert englund characters

11 notes · View notes

ssreeder · 1 month

Note

oh my god. oh my goodness fucking gracious me.

so I just have to tell you that I found your fic this morning and I fucking SPEEDED through that shit (even though it was SO long--IM NOT COMPLAINING I LOVE LONG FICS) but oh my god. oh my god

you're so talented??? first of all, like I'm on my knees wondering where all this came from. like you came up with this?? it was in your head?? and you wrote it by yourself? oh my god reSPECT

also it's so beautifully written‼️‼️ I went back and looked at the character development and the everything because good lord it was so well paced. like I was on the edge of my bed seat during every single chapter. good lord

zukka + all of ATLA is my current hyperfixation and your fic has soothed me so completely

jesus christ on a cracker do you understand how talented you are?? do you *grabs you aggressively by the shoulders and stares deeply into your eyes* DO YOU UNDERSTAND HOW INCREDIBLE AND SKILLFUL AND GORGEOUS THIS IS??? PLEASE

okay but in all seriousness, here are some of my favorite lines(mostly from the last chapter because jesus fuck I do nOT have time to scroll back through everything your wrote):

"And here he was, all these years later… not used to it. He knew he would never get used to the blood curdling scream a person made when the fire stripped their body clean and their bones were reduced to nothing but a pile of ash and a terrible smell.

No wonder the world referred to them as ash-makers."

Jesus fucking fuck. CHILLS BBY I HAD CHILLS

"Watch out for your little brother" OHOHOHO HEHEEEE

"'Your teacher will be someone who has mastered Neutral Jing. You need to find someone who waits and listens before striking. Do not worry about your old friend Aang, he isn’t buried in the ground yet!' Bumi cackled the way that he had since they were just kids.

...

'The white lotus Pai Sho piece? I don’t have a set, no one else knows how to play.'"

AHAHAH THE TOPH AND UNCLE IROH DROP IM GOING TO BE SICK

"I'll go wherever you go." KILLING MYSELF WHY ARE THEY SO SWEET

anyway that's enough from me (I feel like you should know I typed all of this while either rolling around on the floor screaming or sitting very still with a DEEPLY disturbing (so I'm told) and very somber expression on my face).

i hope you have a lovely day you gorgeous beautiful perfect human being

This is me reading your ask… dude wtf this is so nice!!!!

I AM BEING SHOULDER GRABBED WITH LOVE AND I REALLY LIKE IT AHHHHH!!! its so funny because its been so long since i wrote the first book you sent me those quotes and im like uhhhuhhh ohhh yeah mhmmmm wait i wrote that?? Haha (except the “watch out for your little brother”) cause that was twisted in a way that made me smirk.. haha that sentence meant so much!!! (I do think the bumi quote was directly from canon though so I take zero credit for that just trying to keep it canon haha)

I’m glad you like my writing enough to come scream at me. I love when people scream kind words at me I WANT TO BE SHOULDER GRABBED WITH PRAISE MORE AHHHHH!!!

thanks for this epic ask you’re fucking amazing never change

#Unless you wanna change #Then fucking change I support you #But I love my shoulder grab thank uou #Funny story I feel like your ask has the same vibes as my authors notes haha #Sometimes I start writing those things and I seriously black the fuck out and then come back and it’s written #But damn it you made me smile so much #Thank you #Like seriously thank you #Some people don’t realize how much these asks and comments mean to people #Especially to me #I cherish each one and they inspire me so mucj #So seriously YOURE FUCKING AWESOME #Mythology-void #LIAB #Leaving it all behind #Ask

13 notes · View notes

creature-wizard · 1 year

Text

Lauren Stratford claims modern witches are satanic abusers. (If you're part of Witchblr, she means you.)

(A heads up, this post is talking about exposed fraud Lauren Stratford/Laurel Rose Willson, who claimed to have been an SRA and CSE victim, and played a large role in perpetuating the Satanic Panic. There will be disturbing topics discussed in this post/thread.)

We're now reaching the point in this book where Stratford is getting her Harold Hill on and telling us what sorts of things in our society are tools of Satan.

She claims that if you have participated in any of the following, then you, YES YOU, are a victim of satanic ritual abuse or are at risk of becoming one:

Playing Dungeons & Dragons

Wearing pentacle jewelry

Making the sign of the horns

Experimenting with ESP, astral projection, guided imagery, or meditation.

Using a ouija board or tarot cards.

Healing via pyramid power, crystals, or colors

Participating in polytheistic spiritual rituals

New Agey/New Age adjacent self-improvement/empowerment

UFOlogy

OBEs

Channeling

I think most of us would agree that some of these things have... issues (EG, crystal healing) and do in fact connect to some very unsavory politics (EG, New Age), but they are very much not satanic, much less do they have anything to do with some grand satanic conspiracy that can only be defeated through the power of Jesus.

As for the rest, it's very clear that Stratford is lumping all modern witchcraft, all modern paganism and polytheism, and all unconventional spiritual practices together as satanic, and therefore, tools of satanic ritual abuse. Oh, and do you enjoy modern fantasy games? Yeah, no, that's satanic, according to Stratford.

(Satanic Panic peddlers really hate fantasy media.)

But if you disagree with Stratford at all:

Of course you didn't think of yourself as a victim. That's where the deception begins. In each of these areas, you are being directed toward the power of self, the power of nature, the power of another god or other gods, or the power of Satan, and you are being pulled away from the power of God. You are becoming a victim of Satan's deceptions.

And she claims that:

Your only answer, your only hope, your only real freedom is in Jesus Christ. I've shared with you how I found Him to be my answer. Now I long to share with you in a simple and practical way how you can find Him to be your answer.

If you're reading this post, odds are good that you're among the people Stratford claimed was a victim in need of saving from Satan. The Satanic Panic was never about saving people from any sort of abuse; it was always a hate movement targeting anyone who wasn't a conservative Christian. There was never a single shred of evidence found for the grand Satanic conspiracy people claimed existed, but there were lots and lots of frauds like Stratford who were relied upon as authorities on the existence of this conspiracy.

The tropes of the Satanic Panic itself were rooted in witch hysteria and antisemitism. It's the same old violent conspiracy theories repackaged for a new generation, for the same purpose of asserting conservative Christian dominion.

Among many other allegations of SRA that may or may not be rooted in something that actually happened, that were likely as not embellished by law enforcement officials desperately looking for satanic crimes, Stratford claims that:

In 1981 the Witches International Coven Council (WICCA) listed several goals at their convention in Mexico. This list was intercepted and confiscated by law-enforcement officials. Among their objectives are:

To bring about personal debts, causing discord and disharmony within families

To remove or educate the "new-age youth" by: a) infiltrating boys'/girls' clubs and big sister/ brother programs b) infiltrating schools, having prayers removed, having teachers teach about drugs, sex, freedoms c) instigating and promoting rebellion against parents and all authority

To have laws changed to benefit our ways, such as: a) removing children from the home environment and placing them in our foster homes b) mandatory placement of children in our daycare centers c) open drug and pornography market to everyone

Yeah, so, if you're a modern witch, Stratford says that you're involved in a conspiracy to destroy society. She claims that people like you are targeting children in preschool for horrific abuses:

These goals are being systematically pursued, and one of the primary avenues is through preschools. Apparently satanists are actively training and seeking employment in preschools throughout the country, and using this as a base for recruiting and programming children for satanism. What these children see, hear, and endure is practically beyond belief: people in robes; sexual abuse; drugged lemonade; animal sacrifices; human sacrifices.

Anyway, it's a good time to mention that no evidence whatsoever was found for any of the allegations of satanic abuse made during the McMartin preschool trials, adults coached children on what to say, and some children made things up because they were put under pressure.

#lauren stratford #laurel rose willson #satan's underground #sra #satanic ritual abuse #witchcraft #conspiracy theories #conspiracism #conspiracy theory

64 notes · View notes

stevie-petey · 12 days

Note

YAYYYY THANK YOU STEVIE PETEY!!!! Also am I delusional or am I sensing a lil jealousy from my lil baby Robin? Maybe Steve did miss his chance and it's rugs/ bobins era now. I need to know what Steve has been saying to Dustin about bug!?!? Like what do you mean he likes her in white?? How do you know this you mysterious little man? Hopper and bug have my whole heart you don't understand. I totally understand how bug could be a little disturbed by the kids relationships cause when she was their age she was looking for lizards in the woods with Jonathan and these kids are making out? She'd be so weirded out. Like imagine your younger brother having his first kiss before you, that's gotta sting a lil. It sucks that bugs probably gonna be stuck in the elevator when the mind flayer comes back cause will needs his big sister😭. And Steve's jealous ugghhh it's what I feed off of. Steve and bug both having the same worries about each other is so soulmate of them Jesus Christ. Bug knowing that Steve is struggling with his father, and how she wishes she could show him how smart and amazing he is is so sad and sweet. He's really so amazing. And I know he's gonna feel all cool and sexy when he wins that fight with the Russian guard. Which is he is, he's 100% right. Dustin being disgusted with stug being cute is so real of him. Steve being a flirty little shit while being too scared to make a real move makes me wanna shake him. He knows she won't reject him, but he wants to make it special for her. Now that Steve has mostly given up douche bag ways I can see him as the kind of guy to remember every anniversary. First kiss? Yup, first date? Definitely. When he realized he was in love with bug? How could he forget it!? I need them to get together, better yet throuple with Robin. There's room for three, plenty of bug to go around. But honestly I can't wait for Robin and stug to become the ultimate friend group. I think Robin would make fun of Steve for having a girlfriend who's still in highschool, even though it's only a year between them.

mayhaps ur sensing something from robin 🤭🤭

and the scene with hopper n bug ugh i cant say a lot but that scene is suuuuper important n foreshadow-y they were so fun to write and theyve come so far since season 1 <3333

steves and bugs insecurities being DIRECT parallels of how jon/nance made them feel :((( my babies just need to kiss already. theyre so dumb like wdym ur scared u missed ur chance when ur KISSING EACH OTHERS NECKS ???? imbeciles i tell ya

speaking of imbeciles: steve blabs a lot and poor dustin just hears everything he isnt supposed to rip. and poor bug id also be so baffled by all the kids making out and dating like yall are CHILDREN go play video games and hide and seek get ur mouths away from each other (bug definitely is also a lil bummed dustin got his first kiss before her, it IS a tad embarrassing lmao)

and steve will 1000% he the bf who remembers the first time he even made EYE CONTACT with bug and shes just gonna be like ????? hello ??????

IM GLAD U ENJOYED THE CHAPTER THANK U FOR THE LOVELY ASK I LOOOOVE HEARING YALLS THOUGHTS <3333

#ask #anon #m speaks #nyas insight #INSIGHT WOOOOOO #this made me :))))

8 notes · View notes

lotus-flower-writes-history · 8 months

Text

The Unofficial Black History Book

The Eulogy of Malcolm X

This Eulogy was delivered by Ossie Davis at the funeral of Malcolm X, in the Faith Temple Church of God In Christ in Harlem, on February 27th, 1965.

Here - at this final hour, in this quiet place - Harlem has come to bid farewell to one of its brightest hopes -extinguished now, and gone from us forever. For Harlem is where he worked and where he struggled and fought - his home of homes, where his heart was, and where his people are - and it is, therefore, most fitting that we meet once again - in Harlem - to share these last moments with him. For Harlem has never been gracious to those who have loved her, hove fought her, and have defended her honor even to the death.

It is not in the memory of man that is beleaguered, unfortunate, but nonetheless proud community has found a braver, more gallant young champion than this Afro-American who lies before us - unconquered still. I say the word again, as he would want me to : Afro-American Malcom, who was a master, was most meticulous in his use of words. Nobody knew better than he the power of words have over minds of men. Malcolm had stopped being a 'Negro' years ago. It had become too small, too puny, too weak a word for him. Malcolm was bigger than that. Malcolm had become an Afro-American and he wanted - so desperately - that we, that all his people, would become Afro-Americans too.

There are those who will consider it their duty, as friends of the Negro people, to tell us to revile him, to flee, even from the presence of his memory, to save ourselves by writing him out of the history of our turbulent times. Many will ask what Harlem finds to honor in this stormy, controversial and bold young captain - and we will smile. Many will say turn away - away from this man, for he is not a man but a demon, a monster, a subverter and an enemy of the black man - and we will smile. They will say that he is of hate - a fanatic, a racist - who can only bring evil to the cause for which you struggle! And we will answer and say to them : Did you ever talk to brother Malcolm? Did you ever touch him, or have him smile at you? Did you ever really listen to him? Did he ever do a mean thing? Was he ever himself associated with violence or any public disturbance? For if you did you would know him. And if you knew him you would know why we must honor him.

Malcolm was our manhood, our living, black manhood! This was his meaning to his people. And, in honoring him, we honor the best in ourselves. Last year, from Africa, he wrote these words to a friend: 'My journey', he says, 'is almost ended, and I have a much broader scope than when I started out, which I believe will add new life and dimension to our struggle for freedom and honor and dignity in the States. I am writing these things so that you will know for a fact the tremendous sympathy and support we have among the African States for our Human Rights struggle. The main thing is that we keep a United Front wherein our most valuable time and energy will not be wasted fighting each other.' However we may have differed with him - or with each other about him and his value as a man - let his going from us serve only to bring us together, now.

Consigning these mortal remains to earth, the common mother of all, secure in the knowledge that what we place in the ground is no more now a man - but a seed - which, after the winter of our discontent, will come forth again to meet us. And we will know him then for what he was and is - A Prince - our own black shining Prince! -

Who didn't hesitate to die, because he loved us so."

The Tulsa Race Massacre

Clara Hale

My Resources

2 notes · View notes

enchantedchocolatebars · 1 year

Text

⛪The Church⛪

As night fell, the Wittebane boys were in their beds, ready to get some shut-eye. Rest was important, especially for the younger of the two.

"Goodnight, Philip," Caleb spoke in a whisper to his little brother as he smiled, closing his eyes.

Placing his head on his pillow, Philip smiles back. "Goodnight, Caleb!" He says, shutting his lids. Feeling snug and safe beneath his blanket, Pip sighed. "Goodnight, Kitty," he whispers warmly, trying to cuddle his companion. As small hands went on a hunt to feel the light and familiar fur, blue eyes soon SNAP open in realization.

Kitty wasn't there!

He checks under his covers.

Nothing.

"Kitty?" He calls out, hoping to hear a response.

None.

Worried, the brunette leaps out of bed and kneels beside it. Maybe Kitty fell and rolled underneath somehow.

Poking his head under, Pip pulls out something that makes him frown - the severed limb of an ex-animal friend.

Sorry Scruffy The Skunk, but he's moved on.

Pushing the arm back, Philip goes back to looking for Kitty.

He took his search to the closet, calling out for his friend as if he were a lost puppy.

"Here Kitty, Kitty, Kitty..."

And suddenly, it hits him! Pip remembers where he left Kitty.

At church!

Philip had taken Kitty to see his first ever service because he wanted to convert him to Christ.

Pip believed that Kitty should be a good Purtian like him and attend, but, unfortunately, he accidentally left him at the pew that he and Caleb were sitting at and forgot to take him.

The brunette began to feel bad.

How could he forsake his friend like that? Kitty was probably freezing and feeling all alone in there.

He had to get him back, but Philip couldn't go to the church on his own, especially at this hour. He needed someone to come with him.

He needed Caleb.

Approaching the elder's bedside, Philip uses a hand to shake his shoulder.

"Caleb? Caleb, wake up. Caleb? Caleb. Caleb?" He hates to disturb his big brother from his peaceful slumber, but this was an emergency.

The constant shaking and calling of his name causes Caleb to slowly open his heavy eyelids. "Huh?"

He yawns as he looks to his left and sees his sibling standing there. "Pip?"

Tired, he asks in a groggily tone, "What is it?" before sitting up and rubbing his eyes.

"Kitty," he began before continuing, "He's at church. I left him there by accident. We have to go back and get him."

Turning his head, Caleb squints at the clock.

A groan came when he saw the time.

"Pip, it's late. We'll have to pick up Kitty in the morning."

"But Caleb, I can't sleep without him! And he can't sleep without me!" Pip would persuade.

"I'm sure you'll both be fine for one night."

"But Caleb--!"

"Goodnight, Philip," Caleb sternly says, laying back down. "Get some rest."

Philip proceeds to shake him again.

"But what about Kitty?"

Caleb turns away, "Go to bed," he orders.

"But Caleb!"

Not a word from the blonde.

"Caleb?"

Still nothing.

Time to kick it up a notch.

Shaking him harder, Philip shouts, "CALEB!"

SNORES soon erupt as Pip forms a frown at his brother.

He wasn't convinced.

No one could fall asleep that fast.

"Stop pretending!" He whines. "Caleb! Caleb! Come on! Come ooon!"

The snoring only continues.

That's it.

Time to throw the biggest temper tantrum of all time.

With a deep breath, it begins.

"Come oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo..."

Jerking up, Caleb immediately sends his badgering brother a glare. "Philip, stop it!"

He briefly stops. "Never! Oooooooo..."

An annoyed sigh from Caleb. "Really now, you can't keep that up forever."

"Yes I can! Oooooooo..."

"Well, you're not going to change my mind."

Caleb tried using his pillow to block out the noise, believing Philip would just burn himself out.

He had to... right?

Later on, the elder emits a second sigh - this one more exhausted than the previous.

It's been over an hour and Philip was still going strong at it, showing no signs of stopping.

Seems he really could go on forever.

Burying his face into his pillow, Caleb finally groans in defeat.

"Okay, fine! We'll go, we'll go."

"YAY! Oooooooo..."

"Philip... you can stop now.😑"

"Can't, I'm stuck. Ooooooooooon. Oh wait, no I'm not!😊 Last one to the front door is a rotten egg!😃 Ready, GO!" The younger bolts out of the bedroom, leaving his older bro to be the egg.

Getting up, he groans a second time, stretching his arms.

Pulling out a hair tie, he puts his hair in a ponytail before proceeding to the closet to grab his coat.

The faster he does this, the faster he can get back to sleep.

#the owl house #owl house #toh #emperor belos #belos #philip wittebane #caleb wittebane #writing #my writing

11 notes · View notes

cassianus · 1 year

Text

Desolation

Sometimes in the lives of pious Christians there are hours when God seems to have entirely abandoned them—hours of the power of darkness; and then the man from the depth of his heart cries unto God: “Why hast Thou turned Thy face from me, Thou everlasting Light? For a strange darkness has covered me, the darkness of the accursed evil Satan, and has obscured all my soul. It is very grievous for the soul to be in this torturing darkness, which gives a presentiment of the torments and darkness of hell. Turn me, O Saviour, to the light of Thy commandments, and make straight my spiritual way, I fervently pray Thee.” Unite your soul to God by means of hearty faith and you will be able to accomplish everything. Do powerful, invisible, ever-watchful enemies wage war against you? You will conquer them. Are these enemies visible, outward? You will conquer them also. Do passions rend you? You will overcome them. Are you crushed with sorrows? You will get over them. Have you fallen into despondency? You will obtain courage. With faith you will be able to conquer everything, and even the Kingdom of Heaven will be yours. Faith is the greatest blessing of the earthly life; it unites the man to God, and makes him strong and victorious through Him. “He who is joined to the Lord is one spirit.” If you do not yourself experience the action of the wiles of the evil spirit, you will not know, and will not appreciate and value as you ought, the benefits bestowed upon you by the Holy Spirit: not knowing the spirit that destroys, you will not know the Spirit that gives life. Only by means of direct contrasts of good and evil, of life and death, can we clearly know the one and the other. If you are not subjected to distresses, and danger of bodily or spiritual death, you will not truly know the Saviour, the Life-giver, Who delivers us from these distresses and from spiritual death. Jesus Christ is the consolation, the joy, the life, the peace, and the breadth of our hearts! Glory to God, the most wise and most gracious, that He allows the spirit of evil and death to tempt and torment us! Otherwise we should not have sufficiently appreciated and valued the comfort of grace, the comfort of the Holy Ghost the Comforter, the Life-giver! Never despair of God’s mercy, by whatever sins you may have been bound by the temptation of the Devil, but pray with your whole heart, with

the hope of forgiveness; knock at the door of God’s mercy and it shall be opened unto you. I, a simple priest, am an example for you: however, I may sometimes sin by the action of the Devil, for instance, by enmity towards a brother, whatever the cause may be, even though it may be a right cause, and I myself become thoroughly disturbed and set my brother against me, and unworthily celebrate the Holy Sacrament, not from wilful neglect, but by being myself unprepared, and by the action of the Devil; yet, after repentance, the Lord forgives all and everything, especially after the worthy communion of the Holy Sacrament: I become as snow, or as a wave of the sea, by the blood of Christ; the most heavenly peace dwells in my heart; it becomes light, so light, and I feel beatified. Then, indeed, I forget all troubles, anxieties, and the oppression of the enemy, I become entirely renewed, and as though risen from the dead. Do not then despair, brethren, whatever sins you may have committed, only repent and confess them with a contrite heart and humble spirit. Glory, O Lord, to Thy mercy! Glory, O Lord, to Thy long-suffering and forbearance! What spiritual storms, hurricanes, fearful, fiery, sudden whirlwinds, often occur in the life of man, in the life of those who endeavor to lead a Christian life, and to serve God by prayer, interceding for themselves and others before His unspeakable mercy! It is only by God’s mercy that the bark in which our soul travels over life’s sea towards the eternity awaiting it, is not entirely wrecked and lost!

St. John Kronstadt

11 notes · View notes

sweetrays · 10 months

Text

About me:

Just call me by my username I don't like using real names anymore

(bisexual transsexual male & 2 yrs on T)

I write novels, short stories, and fanfiction

I draw novel illustrations and favorite characters

I'm autistic and therefore can be perceived a little bit strange

My dominant special interest fandom wise is Peter Pan stories. (Hook is my absolute favourite Peter Pan movie. You'll mostly see me talking about the character Rufio)

I liked OUAT Peter Pan for a little while last year but it's not my thing anymore

My other special interest is historical (mostly 19th century) fashion

A quick heads up:

I enjoy NSFW art, but I don't post any. There might be some reblogging of that here occasionally.

A lot of the fanfictions I post are openly based off- have some sort of connection to my somewhat disturbing fetishes that involve characters dying or being hurt

I know some might not be comfortable with that.

If you'd like to be my friend please just skim through the readmore just in case you find my opinions distasteful. If you do, just block me I don't want trouble

My Internet Discourse Opinions

Stupid but very important in order to avoid ugly confrontations nowadays 🙁

"Proshipping"

-the good pure holy shipping vs. icky yucky nasty evil creepy freak shipping stuff is bullshit. If you give me/a mutual shit over FICTIONAL ship your ass is getting blocked cause that's just a whole nother level of ridiculous. I do not condone the bullying and harassment that is so common in 'woke' fandom culture nowadays. It is disgusting that people are throwing around paraphilic accusations and words like p**o at innocent fanfiction authors who are just enjoying characters with no real malicious intentions.

I come across ships on ao3 that absolutely disgust me on a day to day basis, even so, the last thing I'd want to do is be mean to the author/anyone who enjoyed that ship. That's because the author has just as much a right to write about just as I have the right to be uncomfortable. No character ship is illegal and people are allowed to be as gross or weird as they like as long as it remains fictional (which in 99.99% of cases no one is actively trying to encourage and/or normalising pairing that would be illegal irl) That's never how fandom, art, or fiction has ever worked. If you think otherwise, all I'm saying is you have some serious issues and you need help.

When I write an age gap pairing I don't parade my fic around going "EVERYBODY START DATING YOUR FATHER!!" I tag with many warnings to avoid upsetting people who would be opposed to reading it + add a disclaimer explaining how I do not support such things in real life situations because I don't and neither does anyone else who ships 'problematic' things.

Transgender discourse (neopronouns, etc)

As a transgender male myself, I don't care what pronouns someone uses or what gender they claim to be. I am pro-block anti-harassment when I see someone I disagree with.

However, I do block quite liberally when I see people saying that transgenderism is possible without dysphoria. Because it is not. Being trans is not a choice. Dysphoria is the cause of being trans. Even if it's just a tiny bit of dysphoria you are still valid. If you're a feminine presenting trans male, that is fine, if you're a masculine presenting trans female, that's fine too because even if you're trans you absolutely do not have to abide by society's confining gender stereotypes.

But, if you are feminine presenting non-dysphoric afab going by he/him or a masculine presenting non-dysphoric amab going by she/her. That is not transgender. You just picked different pronouns. Which again, I don't care about the pronouns thing so whatever, but just please don't call that transgender because my brother in Christ, we are not the same.

Therefore please leave me alone if:

You have some sort of weirdly obsessive morality/legality bias against people minding their own business with character shipping in fandom

Think that being trans is a choice.

Thats all, have a nice day. Don't forget to block if you don't like me lol.

3 notes · View notes

every-dayiwakeup · 2 years

Note

another 2 songs, first one is a bit short ! “I Want You” by Mitski ✨ and the second one (who knew this was coming) “Daddy Issues” by The Neighbourhood ☺️

Welcome back 🥰

Alright! Another song to add to my playlist (I love Mitski)! Also this became a bit of an AU interpretation so I'm gonna run with it 😏😏) I'm gonna split this into two posts, but I'll tag you in the other one ofc ❤️

The first part of my interpretation is:

*an AU where Steve, Nancy, Robin, Dustin, and Eddie return to the Upside Down to carry out their part in killing Vecna, and they find someone they know to be dead*

*** Part One: AU***

It's the End of the World As We Know It

I want you

When Billy was killed by the Mind Flayer, that was when Steve realized he loved him. Unfortunate timing, right? As Toto wisely put it, love wasn't always on time. Fuck Toto.

I hold one card, that I can't use

Perhaps it was for the best. After all, it wasn't the right era, either. Even if Billy has survived -if Steve had done more than just watch his body get punctured like a piece of paper- there was no guarantee he loved Steve back. Neil Hargrove died of a "broken heart" (Steve didn't know he had one. Fuck Neil.) and Billy should've been here with him, celebrating the death of the old ball and chain.

Billy deserved to know the perks of a Neil-free life. Max deserved to have her big brother.

It wasn't Steve's loss. So why did he feel so empty?

But I want you

But Billy was gone. Dead. The world would move on without him. Steve just couldn't bring himself to follow suit. Fuck the world.

As it turned out, the world had selective hearing, because it did indeed start to fuck itself. Or rather, Vecna did.

You're coming back

Steve was about to become bat food. He writhes around in vain, because he's supposed to stay alive. For the kids. For Robin. For-

His eyes start to roll to the back of his head, foam spewing from his mouth-

Then the tentacle thingy abandones its hold on his neck, and he breathes in and out, his lungs graciously accepting oxygen like a starving man at an all you can eat buffet.

"Harrington? That you?"

Steve bolts upright, eyes wide. They're watery, but they make out a stocky man with matted hair, and fiery blue eyes.

"Hargrove?" he weezes out in disbelief.

"In the flesh," Billy replies. He's covered head to toe with blood and demo guts, and his wife beater is torn, showing purple flowery scars.

It's logically not possible for him to be alive, but Steve's never been more relieved. Fuck logic. He was friends with a girl who could move things with her mind. Plus Billy Hargrove had proven several times before Starcourt that he was immune to logic in all of it's forms. It's almost scary how fast Steve accepts that he's real.

Billy crouches in front of him, doing what he does best; invading Steve's personal space.

Billy hastily pushes back the hair sticking to Steve's face, and Steve swears he sees tears gathering in Billy's eyes.

"I thought... I thought everyone forgot about me... I tried to-to reach out... but-"

Steve gets caught in the moment, cupping Billy's face in his. He's disturbed by the lack of squish, but make no mistake, it's Billy fucking Hargrove. "Me, forget you? Have you met yourself? You're pretty damn unforgettable, Billy."

Billy's mouth forms a small "o".

"Steve, I-"

"Step away from him, or I'll shoot!" A gun is pressed to the back of Billy's, and Steve tackles him.

"Christ, Nancy! Put that fucking gun away, it's Billy!"

Speaking of, the boy is quivering under him, and Steve shoots Nancy a dirty look as he tries to calm him down.

"This isn't the time or place for a Shakespeare play, Harrington! Take your Romeo and let's fucking haul ass!" Eddie practically screeches, waving his arms around frantically.

Billy barks one of his horrendous hyena laughs, causing the other teenagers jump out of their skin. Robin clutches her heart, her other hand gripping Nancy's and Eddie is hiding behind her, shaking his head like a wet dog. Dustin just stares at Billy, trying to process the fact that the guy who died for them is somehow alive.

There is nothing even remotely funny about this situation. They're probably all going to die here, and the world is in potential peril, but Steve can't help joining Billy with a manic laugh of his own. What a strange pair they must be.

A selfish sliver of Steve is alive, and this part of him is glad that of all the people to die with, Billy Hargrove is one of those people.

But if there's one thing he and Billy have in common... they won't be going down without a fight.

Steve's hand finds Billy's, and he squeezes it. Billy looks at Steve like he's just hung the moon, and the asshole squeezes back harder, a competitive smirk on his grimy face.

Fuck Billy Hargrove.

And it's the end of the world

When they return to Hawkins, their group is one member short, and not even Billy has the heart to crack an ill timed joke.

It was Eddie's wicked guitar solo that told him he wasn't alone. He had smoked a few joints with him before Starcourt (in fact Eddie had made him a mixtape for him after Neil stepped on every CD Billy ever owned). In the short time he spent with Munson, he had grown... fond of the greasy haired metal head.

Eddie understood him in ways that didn't require words.

Apparently even being fond of someone was a fucking crime in the 80s, because Billy had seen what Eddie's plan was before he even cut the sheets. And he just... stood there while Eddie finally decided to pull the hero card.

And Max...

He failed her. He failed to look out for her, and now she was holed up in the hospital. Lucas was by her side. Billy couldn't look at either of the them. The shame was too much. Besides, he wasn't sure Max would want him there anyway.

El the girl he died for, had greeted him with a hug, as though they were old friends.

He supposed they were, in a way. She had been inside his head.

Focus on the positive...

According to the doctor, Max was alive.

Try not to focus on brain dead...

His spunky little sister and the d word shouldn't exist in the same sentence.

Somehow he had seen everything, and he couldn't do anything. He wasn't sure how to explain it. It was like he was there, but he couldn't move.

All he could do was watch. Watch his little sister's bones snap, blood pouring out of her formerly blue eyes.

That hurt more than when she said she wanted bad things to happen to him. When she said she didn't think he deserved to be saved.

Steve pulls up to Hopper's cabin, and Billy is hesitant to get out of the car (he and Robin had stolen it, and he remembered that Eddie taught him how to hot wire).

Steve stays with him, even opening the passenger seat to offer a hand to help him out.

He expects Steve to drop him and go be with his friends, but good old Harrington doesn't leave his side. Neither does El. Funnily enough, Dustin doesn't hide behind the Wheeler girl when Billy nods at him. The mop headed kid nods back, a mutual look of respect and understanding in his red rimmed eyes.

Eddie's death reminds him of a book he read once, in which the author killed off a comedic, cowardly character to signify that shit was getting serious. A harsh graduation from heavenly childhood into the descent of hell.

Argyle, Jonathan Byers' buddy, looks him up and down, then offers him something Billy can't refuse- a blunt. And of course, inevitable conversation. "You're from Cali, right?"

"Yeah."

"Oh, sick! What's your opinion on pineapple on pizza?"

Jonathan, who has decided to take a break from trying to explode Mike Wheeler with his mind, slaps his forehead, groaning loudly at his friend. The weed hasn't kicked in yet for him, then. "Dude-"

"Adds flavor," Billy replies, inhaling the smoke in hopes it will numb his brain so he can't think (and by extension not feel). Argyle is a watered down version of Eddie, and the thought brings him a tiny bit of comfort.

"My man! Up top!" Argyle forgets to actually high five Billy, and stumbles off into the bushes nearby.

"Shouldn't he stay closer to the cabin?" Billy asks Steve.

"He's looking for mushrooms," Jonathan answers for him. "He'll be fine. I think."

The younger Byers gasps, touching the back of his neck.

Billy shudders at the same time, a sudden chill coming over him.

The two Williams look at the sky, watching the sun get swallowed up by dark clouds that signal much worse things than rain.

Curiousity gets the better of the mismatched family, and they gather together on a grassy hill overlooking Hawkins, breaking out into duos; Chief Hopper with Mrs. Byers, Will with Mike, El with Dustin, Jonathan with Argyle, Nancy with Robin, and last but not least, Billy and Steve.

This time Billy's hand reaches for Steve's as red lightning strikes the charcoal sky.

Part 2:

**(And I Feel Fine)**

We're starting over

And I love you darling

And I am done here

T.S. Eliot once said, "What we call the beginning is often the end. And to make an end is to make a beginning. The end is where we start from."

A year after the Final Battle (or as Dustin dubbed it, an encore no one asked for), and Steve finally understood what that quote meant.

As brutal and heartbreaking as it was, he was finally able to be free from the cesspool of Hawkins, Indiana. The Battle gave him a chance to start over. And of course he took Billy with him, because if anyone deserved to experience that same freedom, it was the Boy The World Swallowed Whole.

Billy, who had to let Max go, because he didn't want her to suffer anymore. Billy, who slowly but surely lets Steve into his fragile heart.

They drive to California, where Steve watches Billy come alive in the sun, his curls turning golden. Like a halo. A real life angel who's stolen his wings back, but never needed them to fly. Steve tells him so, and Billy hides his red face in his hands, muttering "You're a fuckin' sap, Harrington."

Steve was learning all of Billy's little quirks, and he couldn't have any of that without the gift of Starting Over.

At the same time, Billy was learning new things about himself, as well as rediscovering parts of himself he never thought he'd see again.

You're in the house, and I am in the car

Of course couples (or whatever they were) fought sometimes, and they were no different.

Despite Steve insisting he's not a burden, Billy doesn't always believe it. He fires back telling Steve he deserves better than someone who is damaged. His body is scarred and soft in places that weren't before. His hands have done horrible things to the people he loves.

It becomes a ritual of some sorts, where Billy's fears and insecurities are layed out for Steve to see, and Steve focuses on what's eating at him.

If it's his scars or stretch marks, Steve traces them, saying they tell a story, and that he would happily read it for the rest of his life.

Billy isn't sure what to make of that one.

If it's the scar he gave Steve at the Byers house, the older man tells him that it escalated, and Steve would have done the same thing if he were Billy.

If it's nightmares... they both get them. So they hold each other. Steve gets a therapy dog, and Billy adopts the kitty that fell out of a tree and landed in his mullet.

If it's his "fluff" as Steve calls it (Billy prefers it because it makes him feel cute), Steve cuddles with him. Sometimes they have naked days, where Steve traces words onto his soft skin that make Billy come undone.

If Billy's not in the mood for Steve to see him, Steve distracts him by making him laugh.

He tries to compliment Billy on traits that aren't physical, like his bravery, his big heart, his frat boy sense of humor, his Joe Pesci impression... (there's more, but Billy has a short attention span sometimes so Steve keeps it short).

I just need a quiet place

Where I can scream I love you

To no one's surprise, the first time they confess their love for each other out loud, its during an argument.

It's a silly argument that started because Billy is in a particularly annoying mood where he's being childish (and confident) and Steve just wants to fix his hair (and mope because Billy has a date tonight, and it's not with him- even though he has a date too).

Feeling ignored, Billy pouts and grabs his brush, singing "Catch me if you can!" and proceeds to run around their house in socks.

"Dammit, Hargrove, I have a date tonight!"

"You were in the bathroom too long! I have to get ready, too!"

"Then use the other bathroom!"

"I don't want to!"

"Why not? Jesus, Hargrove, just give me the damn brush!"

"No."

"No?" Steve repeats, growing angrier by the second. "What the fuck do you mean, no? Do you have a problem with me going out on a date?"

Billy's plump lips snap stubbornly shut at and the two boys glare at each other. It's just like high school all over again.

"Use your words, Hargrove. What about your date? Shouldn't you be getting ready?" Steve can't keep the scornfulness out of his voice.

Billy, the perceptive bastard that he is, raises a clearly mocking eyebrow.

Why does he have to be so fucking pretty?

"I don't have time for this." Steve makes to yank his brush out of Billy's hand.

"I don't have a date tonight," Billy mutters so quietly, Steve almost doesn't hear him.

"What?"

"I lied. Are you happy now? Have fun on your date, Harrington." He thrusts the brush at Steve, who's objective has shifted to Billy's kicked puppy face.

Steve groans, throwing his hands in the air, as he often does when his brain is overwhelmed by new bits of information. The sudden movement startles Billy, and he backs up, slipping on the hardwood.

Steve stops him before he hits the floor with one hand, and he's thankful for whatever possesses him to pull Billy into his space. He's delighted to spot more freckles dotting Billy's fuller cheeks. He smells like cigarettes and cherries.

Does he taste like cherries, too?

But when I stepped through,

There was no floor

True to Harrington fashion, however, he puts his foot in his mouth. "Why did you lie? Billy?"

"Doesn't matter." Loosely translates to I don't matter.

"Why don't you want me to go on a date?" Steve presses. "Billy, goddammit, talk to me!"

"Because you're supposed to go out with me!" Billy roars, voice cracking.

"Well, I want to go out with you, too!"

"I- what?"

"Billy... I. Want. To. Date. You."

"But-"

"No buts- Stop laughing, I'm trying to confess here!"

That shuts Billy up, and he watches Steve hopefully.

"You've always been something to me. But the thing is... I've never been satisfied."

Billy stiffens, ready to insult him, but Steve pushes on, "Because you're a force of nature. A hurricane. Larger than life, and I knew right then and there I wanted all of you. You were my rival, my hero, my crush, my friend, my roommate... And I want you to be... my partner in crime. My only partner in crime."

Billys eyes grow comically wide, oceans of emotion, absorbing every word. "If we're partners in crime... does that mean we can... kiss?"

"We can do a lot more than kiss. I want you, in every conceivable way."

Billy grins from ear to ear, pink from his face to his neck. "Harrington, you sly dog-"

Steve kisses him. Its not particularly romantic, and their noses are smushed together, but it's perfect.

"I guess you could say... you fell for me?"

"I want a divorce."

"My, my, Hargrove, it sounds like you see us getting married some time in the future."

"S-shut up!"

I love you darling

Is what their wedding vows say ❤️

Tags list:

@whoringrove

@geormenia

@sognofragile

@ouizzyharringrove

@lovebillyhargrove

@harringroveho

@wixterirox

@hardestgrove

@suspiciouslackofclowns

@polaris-talks-fandom

@emeraldwitches

23 notes · View notes

roman-catholic-mass-readings · 1 year

Text

25th May >> Mass Readings (USA)

Thursday, Seventh Week of Eastertide

Pope Saint Gregory VII

Saint Mary Magdalen de’ Pazzi, Virgin

Saint Bede the Venerable, Priest, Doctor.

Thursday, Seventh Week of Eastertide

(Liturgical Colour: White: A(1))

First Reading Acts of the Apostles 22:30; 23:6-11 You must bear witness in Rome.

Wishing to determine the truth about why Paul was being accused by the Jews, the commander freed him and ordered the chief priests and the whole Sanhedrin to convene. Then he brought Paul down and made him stand before them.

Paul was aware that some were Sadducees and some Pharisees, so he called out before the Sanhedrin, “My brothers, I am a Pharisee, the son of Pharisees; I am on trial for hope in the resurrection of the dead.” When he said this, a dispute broke out between the Pharisees and Sadducees, and the group became divided. For the Sadducees say that there is no resurrection or angels or spirits, while the Pharisees acknowledge all three. A great uproar occurred, and some scribes belonging to the Pharisee party stood up and sharply argued, “We find nothing wrong with this man. Suppose a spirit or an angel has spoken to him?” The dispute was so serious that the commander, afraid that Paul would be torn to pieces by them, ordered his troops to go down and rescue Paul from their midst and take him into the compound. The following night the Lord stood by him and said, “Take courage. For just as you have borne witness to my cause in Jerusalem, so you must also bear witness in Rome.”

The Word of the Lord

R/ Thanks be to God.

Responsorial Psalm Psalm 16:1-2a and 5, 7-8, 9-10, 11

R/ Keep me safe, O God; you are my hope. or R/ Alleluia.

Keep me, O God, for in you I take refuge; I say to the LORD, “My Lord are you.” O LORD, my allotted portion and my cup, you it is who hold fast my lot.

R/ Keep me safe, O God; you are my hope. or R/ Alleluia.

I bless the LORD who counsels me; even in the night my heart exhorts me. I set the LORD ever before me; with him at my right hand I shall not be disturbed.

R/ Keep me safe, O God; you are my hope. or R/ Alleluia.

Therefore my heart is glad and my soul rejoices, my body, too, abides in confidence; Because you will not abandon my soul to the nether world, nor will you suffer your faithful one to undergo corruption.

R/ Keep me safe, O God; you are my hope. or R/ Alleluia.

You will show me the path to life, fullness of joys in your presence, the delights at your right hand forever.

R/ Keep me safe, O God; you are my hope. or R/ Alleluia.

Gospel Acclamation John 17:21

Alleluia, alleluia. May they all be one as you, Father, are in me and I in you, that the world may believe that you sent me, says the Lord. Alleluia, alleluia.

Gospel John 17:20-26 May they all be one.

Lifting up his eyes to heaven, Jesus prayed saying: “I pray not only for these, but also for those who will believe in me through their word, so that they may all be one, as you, Father, are in me and I in you, that they also may be in us, that the world may believe that you sent me. And I have given them the glory you gave me, so that they may be one, as we are one, I in them and you in me, that they may be brought to perfection as one, that the world may know that you sent me, and that you loved them even as you loved me. Father, they are your gift to me. I wish that where I am they also may be with me, that they may see my glory that you gave me, because you loved me before the foundation of the world. Righteous Father, the world also does not know you, but I know you, and they know that you sent me. I made known to them your name and I will make it known, that the love with which you loved me may be in them and I in them.”

The Gospel of the Lord

R/ Praise to you, Lord Jesus Christ.

------------------------------------

Pope Saint Gregory VII

(Liturgical Colour: White: A(1))

(Readings for the memorial)

(There is a choice today between the readings for the ferial day (Thursday) and those for the memorial. The ferial readings are recommended unless pastoral reasons suggest otherwise)

First Reading Acts of the Apostles 20:17-18a, 28-32, 36 Keep watch over yourselves and over the whole flock of which the Holy Spirit has appointed you overseers, in which you tend the Church of God.

From Miletus Paul had the presbyters of the Church at Ephesus summoned. When they came to him, he addressed them, “Keep watch over yourselves and over the whole flock of which the Holy Spirit has appointed you overseers, in which you tend the Church of God that he acquired with his own Blood. I know that after my departure savage wolves will come among you, and they will not spare the flock. And from your own group, some will come forward perverting the truth to draw the disciples away after them. So be vigilant and remember that for three years, night and day, I unceasingly admonished each of you with tears. And now I commend you to God and to that gracious word of his that can build you up and give you the inheritance among all who are consecrated.” When he had finished speaking he knelt down and prayed with them all.

The Word of the Lord

R/ Thanks be to God.

Responsorial Psalm Psalm 110:1, 2, 3, 4

R/ You are a priest for ever, in the line of Melchizedek.

The LORD said to my Lord: “Sit at my right hand till I make your enemies your footstool.”

R/ You are a priest for ever, in the line of Melchizedek.

The scepter of your power the LORD will stretch forth from Zion: “Rule in the midst of your enemies.”

R/ You are a priest for ever, in the line of Melchizedek.

“Yours is princely power in the day of your birth, in holy splendor; before the daystar, like the dew, I have begotten you.”

R/ You are a priest for ever, in the line of Melchizedek.

The LORD has sworn, and he will not repent: “You are a priest forever, according to the order of Melchizedek.”

R/ You are a priest for ever, in the line of Melchizedek.

Gospel Acclamation Mark 1:17

Alleluia, alleluia. Come after me, says the Lord, and I will make you fishers of men. Alleluia, alleluia.

Gospel Matthew 16:13-19 You are Peter and upon this rock I will build my Church.

When Jesus went into the region of Caesarea Philippi he asked his disciples, “Who do people say that the Son of Man is?” They replied, “Some say John the Baptist, others Elijah, still others Jeremiah or one of the prophets.” He said to them, “But who do you say that I am?” Simon Peter said in reply, “You are the Christ, the Son of the living God.” Jesus said to him in reply, “Blessed are you, Simon son of Jonah. For flesh and blood has not revealed this to you, but my heavenly Father. And so I say to you, you are Peter, and upon this rock I will build my Church, and the gates of the netherworld shall not prevail against it. I will give you the keys to the Kingdom of heaven. Whatever you bind on earth shall be bound in heaven; and whatever you loose on earth shall be loosed in heaven.”

The Gospel of the Lord

R/ Praise to you, Lord Jesus Christ.

----------------------------

Saint Mary Magdalen de’ Pazzi, Virgin

(Liturgical Colour: White: A(1))

(Readings for the memorial)

(There is a choice today between the readings for the ferial day (Thursday) and those for the memorial. The ferial readings are recommended unless pastoral reasons suggest otherwise)

First Reading 1 Corinthians 7:25-35 A virgin is anxious about the things of the Lord.

In regard to virgins, I have no commandment from the Lord, but I give my opinion as one who by the Lord’s mercy is trustworthy. So this is what I think best because of the present distress: that it is a good thing for a person to remain as he is. Are you bound to a wife? Do not seek a separation. Are you free of a wife? Then do not look for a wife. If you marry, however, you do not sin, nor does an unmarried woman sin if she marries; but such people will experience affliction in their earthly life, and I would like to spare you that.

I tell you, brothers and sisters, the time is running out. From now on, let those having wives act as not having them, those weeping as not weeping, those rejoicing as not rejoicing, those buying as not owning, those using the world as not using it fully. For the world in its present form is passing away.

I should like you to be free of anxieties. An unmarried man is anxious about the things of the Lord, how he may please the Lord. But a married man is anxious about the things of the world, how he may please his wife, and he is divided. An unmarried woman or a virgin is anxious about the things of the Lord, so that she may be holy in both body and spirit. A married woman, on the other hand, is anxious about the things of the world, how she may please her husband. I am telling you this for your own benefit, not to impose a restraint upon you, but for the sake of propriety and adherence to the Lord without distraction.

The Word of the Lord

R/ Thanks be to God.

Responsorial Psalm Psalm 148:1-2, 11-13, 13-14

R/ Young men and women, praise the name of the Lord. or R/ Alleluia.

Praise the LORD from the heavens; praise him in the heights; Praise him, all you his angels, praise him, all you his hosts.

R/ Young men and women, praise the name of the Lord. or R/ Alleluia.

Let the kings of the earth and all peoples, the princes and all the judges of the earth, Young men, too, and maidens, old men and boys. Praise the name of the LORD, for his name alone is exalted.

R/ Young men and women, praise the name of the Lord. or R/ Alleluia.

His majesty is above earth and heaven. He has lifted up the horn of his people. Be this his praise from all his faithful ones; from the children of Israel, the people close to him. Alleluia.

R/ Young men and women, praise the name of the Lord. or R/ Alleluia.

Gospel Acclamation John 8:31b-32

Alleluia, alleluia. If you remain in my word, you will truly be my disciples, and you will know the truth, says the Lord. Alleluia, alleluia.

Gospel Mark 3:31-35 Whoever does the will of God is my brother and sister and mother.

The mother of Jesus and his brothers arrived at the house. Standing outside, they sent word to him and called him. A crowd seated around him told him, “Your mother and your brothers and your sisters are outside asking for you.” But he said to them in reply, “Who are my mother and my brothers?” And looking around at those seated in the circle he said, “Here are my mother and my brothers. For whoever does the will of God is my brother and sister and mother.”

The Gospel of the Lord

R/ Praise to you, Lord Jesus Christ.

------------------------------------

Saint Bede the Venerable, Priest, Doctor

(Liturgical Colour: White: A(1))

(Readings for the memorial)

(There is a choice today between the readings for the ferial day (Thursday) and those for the memorial. The ferial readings are recommended unless pastoral reasons suggest otherwise)

First Reading 1 Corinthians 2:10b-16 We have the mind of Christ.

Brothers and sisters: The Spirit scrutinizes everything, even the depths of God. Among men, who knows what pertains to the man except his spirit that is within? Similarly, no one knows what pertains to God except the Spirit of God. We have not received the spirit of the world but the Spirit who is from God, so that we may understand the things freely given us by God. And we speak about them not with words taught by human wisdom, but with words taught by the Spirit, describing spiritual realities in spiritual terms.

Now the natural man does not accept what pertains to the Spirit of God, for to him it is foolishness, and he cannot understand it, because it is judged spiritually. The one who is spiritual, however, can judge everything but is not subject to judgment by anyone. For who has known the mind of the Lord, so as to counsel him? But we have the mind of Christ.

The Word of the Lord

R/ Thanks be to God.

Responsorial Psalm Psalm 119:9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14