#will and el... they understand. will know what its like to be possessed and el saw what happened to billy

[i-miss-lotor]

My third eye suddenly opened and now I'm stuck thinking about a crossover between Stranger Things and Voltron, specifically the parallels between Billy, Max and Lotor

I mean. Just think about it. They had Neil and Zarkon as abusive fathers. Lotor had to kill his own dad, since Zarkon did try to enslave or kill everyone who didn't agree with his species, and all he got that it was for the greater good. No one said anything, not a 'sorry you had to go through that', not a question about his feelings on the matter. Just a 'good job, moving on'.

And Lotor spent so much time trying to be good. Trying to connect with others, trying to be better than his dad. He thought he finally had a place in the world, had people who understood and loved him. Only to get betrayed again and again and no one was even willing to hear him out. Between the pressure and the quintessence, of course he snapped. And they didn't try to save him.

Billy, on the other hand, didn’t try to be good, because he knew there was no point. He knew he was never going to be good enough even though part of him wanted to. He couldn’t keep inside all that hurt and he tried to be more like his dad, he wanted to feel like he has power and not just some weakling, so he took his anger out on others all the time. Of course people didn't like him. Of course they hated him. He was a mean asshole.

So when he died, I wonder what the others told Max. I wonder if Max got the same treatment Lotor did about Zarkon's death, because Billy was mean and killed people (possessed or not) even if he did die a heroic death, I wonder if she had to hear things like 'it's for the better', 'he deserved it'.

And it hurts to think about that Max saw Billy as he was, late or not, that Max was willing to be there for him, while Lotor didn't have a Max. He should have had people to care for him and hear him out, he thought he did, but well. There are no happy endings for them.

[helen-with-an-a]

200 Goals

Hiiiii - this is a little something i thought of to celebrate Alexia's 200 goals for Barça. I hope you enjoy.

Alexia Putellas x Reader

Description: You're just so proud of Alexia but she's being stubborn

Word Count: 1.3k

TW: suggestive (? ish - idk tho)

Beautiful Girl Masterlist

You lay on your back, the soft glow of the evening casting a golden hue across the room, bathing everything in a serene warmth. The only sounds were the faint rhythm of your breathing and the comforting steadiness of Alexia’s presence against you. Her arms encircled your waist tightly, her grip speaking volumes of her need to hold you close, as if letting go would shatter the peaceful bubble you both had created. Her body moulded perfectly against yours, her head nestled against your bare chest, where your heartbeat played a soothing melody just for her.

Her hair, richer and more vibrant in its deepening brunette shade, spilled over your skin in delicate waves. Each slight shift she made sent strands tickling against you, a gentle reminder of her closeness. She squirmed with the endearing restlessness of someone who wouldn’t settle until she’d found the perfect spot, her movements small but purposeful. Finally, she stilled, her leg sliding over yours with an air of possession, anchoring you both in the intimacy of the moment.

Her weight, slight but grounding, seemed to tether you to something far beyond the physical. The quiet gave way to a profound stillness, a space filled not with words but with the unsaid – the shared understanding that neither of you wanted to be anywhere else. Her breaths, soft and even, matched the rhythm of your own, and as her fingertips brushed idly against your side, you felt a wave of gratitude wash over you. This was home – no walls, no boundaries, just her, holding you like you were the most precious thing in the world.

“Two hundred goals, baby,” you murmured with pride, your lips brushing against the crown of her head. You didn’t need to see her face to know how she reacted. The image of her shy smile, the faint blush that always crept across her cheeks when she felt overwhelmed by love or praise, played vividly in your mind. True to form, she burrowed deeper into your chest, hiding her expression in the safety of your embrace.

“Todo para ti,” Alexia whispered softly, her voice carrying an almost reverent tone.

You smiled, touched by her sincerity, but you weren’t about to let her downplay her own greatness. “That’s kind of you, beautiful girl,” you replied, your fingers tracing soothing patterns up and down her back. “And I’m honoured you feel that way. But this – this achievement – it’s yours. Let yourself have it.”

Alexia shook her head against your chest, her determination evident even in her gentle protest. “No,” she said firmly. “You did so much for me – getting me back onto the pitch, helping me feel comfortable again. I wouldn’t have done this without you.”

Her stubbornness made you laugh, a warm chuckle rumbling through your chest as you hugged her tighter. “Baby,” you drawled playfully, exaggerating your plea. “Please, just let yourself be proud of what you’ve done. For me, for you, for everyone.”

She hesitated for just a moment before responding, and when she did, you could feel the mischievous grin spreading across her face, her cheek shifting slightly against your skin. “Nope,” Alexia said, a smirk lacing her tone.

Her stubbornness was as endearing as it was exasperating, and you couldn’t help but hold her closer, your heart full as you soaked in the warmth of her love, her gratitude, and her quiet refusal to ever take all the credit.

“So stubborn,” you teased, a warm laugh bubbling up as Alexia’s fingers found your waist, her pinch drawing a surprised squeal from your lips.

“Eres el indicado para hablar,” she countered, gasping between her own bursts of laughter, her voice tinged with mock indignation. Her words spilled out in a playful rush, her accent wrapping around them in a way that made your chest tighten with affection. She lifted her head, her eyes sparkling with mischief as they locked with yours.

“Me? Stubborn?” you asked, feigning innocence as you raised a brow.

“Sí,” she shot back, her grin widening as she shifted to straddle your hips, her weight settling comfortably against you. “Who’s the one who refuses to let me take care of anything when we’re home? Or insists on staying up late just to make sure I’m okay after a game? Hmm?”

You opened your mouth to argue but closed it just as quickly, unable to deny her words when she was staring down at you with that knowing look, her hands now resting firmly on your chest. “Okay, fine,” you admitted with a soft chuckle. “Maybe I’m a little stubborn. But only because I love you.”

Alexia’s playful smirk softened, her gaze turning tender as she leaned forward. “Lo sé,” she whispered, her lips brushing against yours in a kiss so gentle it sent a shiver down your spine.

When she pulled back, her expression was thoughtful, her fingers tracing small circles on your chest. “But you don’t have to do everything alone,” she murmured, her voice quieter now. “You take such good care of me, cariño. Let me do the same for you sometimes.”

Her words settled over you like a warm blanket, filling the space between you with a love that felt almost tangible. You reached up, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear before cupping her face in your hands. “You already do, Alexia,” you said softly. “In more ways than you know.”

Her smile was small but radiant, her cheeks tinged with that familiar blush that always melted your heart. She leaned down again, this time pressing her forehead to yours, her breaths mingling with your own as she closed her eyes.

“I don’t know what I’d do without you,” she confessed, her voice barely above a whisper.

“You’ll never have to find out,” you promised, pulling her closer until her body moulded perfectly against yours. You felt her exhale deeply, her tension melting away as she relaxed into your embrace.

The two of you lay there in silence for a moment, her heartbeat syncing with yours. Finally, Alexia broke the quiet, her voice tinged with amusement. “You know,” she said, her lips twitching into a smirk, “for someone who says I’m stubborn, you seem to enjoy it.”

You laughed, shaking your head. “Only because it means you never back down when it matters.”

She raised an eyebrow, the playful glint in her eyes impossible to miss as her smirk widened into something irresistibly mischievous. “Like now?” she teased, her voice dipping just enough to make your heart skip a beat. The challenge in her tone was clear, and it sent a thrill racing through you.

“Like now,” you replied, your voice low and warm, laced with affection and a hint of surrender. Without waiting for another word, you reached up, your fingers threading into her hair as you pulled her down into another kiss.

This one was deeper, more deliberate, a kiss that spoke of everything you didn’t need to say aloud. Her lips were soft and insistent, moving against yours with a perfect blend of tenderness and fire. Her hands slid to your shoulders, gripping you as if she wanted to pour every ounce of her love, her passion, her stubborn devotion into the moment.

Her weight shifted slightly, pressing her closer against you as the kiss deepened. Time seemed to slow, the world outside your embrace fading until there was nothing left but the warmth of her touch, the taste of her on your lips, and the quiet hum of love filling the space between you.

When she finally pulled back, her breathing was heavier, her cheeks flushed a delicate pink that made her look even more radiant. She lingered just inches away, her forehead brushing against yours as her smirk softened into a smile. “See?” she murmured, her voice a little breathless. “Being stubborn isn’t so bad.”

You laughed softly, your hands sliding down to rest on her waist, holding her steady. “Not when it’s you,” you admitted, brushing your thumb over the curve of her hip. “You make it impossible not to love every part of you – even the parts that drive me crazy.”

Alexia chuckled, her laughter vibrating through you as she pressed another quick, playful kiss to your lips. “Good,” she whispered, her grin returning. “Because you’re stuck with all of it.”

[thaleleah]

𝓖𝓸𝓭𝓵𝓮𝓼𝓼 (𝓟𝓪𝓻𝓽 𝓞𝓷𝓮)

Pairing: Billy The Kid x Fem!Nun!Reader

Warnings: ***NON-CON***, Dub-Con, Dark!Billy, Virgin!Reader, Oral (female receiving), Fingering, P in V, Corruption Kink, Creampie, Possessive Behavior, Masturbation, Wet Dreams/Sex Dreams, Seduction, Emotional Manipulation, Religion and Religious Beliefs, Explicit talk of gunshot wounds, blood, and the bullet's removal (kinda? Idk if it's explicit explicit, but its a little more than just mentioned), Mention of physical abuse/child abuse (not from Billy), Childhood Trauma, Mention of alcoholism, Moral/Religious conflict within one's self, My bad Spanish, Nun breaking her vows, Probably too quick of a healing process to be fucking someone but I'm not a doctor so 🤷🏻‍♀️, Using the word "drawers" instead of "panties" which is kinda cringe to me but I wanted to be somewhat accurate

Word Count: 9.6K

A/N: Billy's passed out for most of this but I hope y'all like it anyway. Please know I'm posting this and then running away. Okay, byeeeeeeeeee

Summary: When Billy stumbles into your clinic, hurt and in desperate need of care and refuge, you don't hesitate to help him. Perhaps this is God's will. Perhaps He has brought him into your life to help heal the parts of him that the cruelness of the world has soiled and broken. You are a healer by trade, both of the physical body and of faith. If this is to be God's mission for you, then it shall be done. How could you have possibly known that the young man who begged for help that fateful night would turn out to be the devil himself?

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Translations:

Por Dios - Oh my God

Que Dios te bendiga - May God bless you

Qué sorpresa! - What a surprise!

Y él no quería que su mamá lo supiera. Así enterró la carne en el jardín - And he didn't want his mom to know. So he buried the meat in the garden

Pero el perro la desenterró y ella se descubrió de todos modos. Tuvo que lavar platos él solo por dos meses - But the dog dug it up and she found out anyway. He had to wash the dishes by himself for two months

Ese niño - That kid/child

Parece que era un buen amigo - Seems like he was a good friend

Sí, él era - Yes, he was

De nada - You're welcome

Gracias, Hermana - Thanks, Sister

They say the devil can take on many forms.

He is a demon figure - with the face of a goat, horns, hooves, and a blade pointed tail.

He is a great dragon - large and terrifying, destructive and formidable in the power he holds.

He is a roaring lion - hungry and fierce as he stalks God’s children, waiting for them to fall into his trap before he attacks them like prey.

But the devil was once God’s favorite angel, amazingly beautiful and wise. The angel of light, God’s morning star - a traitor now, a trickster . . . evil.

The Lord teaches love for all, compassion and understanding despite another’s upbringing or current situation. All humans are God’s children, all made in His perfect image, brothers and sisters in unity under His loving and eternal care. You are thankful to know this, grateful that you can feel His presence coursing through your veins despite the horror that you’ve come to face daily while working at the clinic. His gift to you is your endless drive to help those in need, sitting by the bedsides of the sick and dying, applying a cool rag to their sweaty foreheads, or spoon feeding them soup to give them strength when they are too weak to do it themselves. 

It is a taxing life, and the sorrow you feel when you cannot nurse someone back to health is ever present in your heart, but the Lord is clear in your life’s mission and you will be forever thankful for the lessons you learn in this lifetime. 

He has made you a healer, using you as a vessel for His healing touch for all you come across - regardless of wealth, status, religious affiliation, or criminal record. 

Which is why when he stumbles into the clinic during the late hours of the night, face pale and hand pressing hard to his side where blood is streaming through his fingers despite the pressure, you don’t hesitate to help him. 

You think you should have - should have let him bleed to death on the clinic floor. Would God have abandoned you if you had?

“Sister Maria!” You cry instead, running to the injured man and looping his arm around your shoulders to help him lean against you. “We need fresh towels and water! And sutures! Hurry!”

Sister Maria runs in the room, bedsheets still cradled in her arms from where she had been turning over a recently discharged patient’s room. She gasps at the scene, dropping the linens on the floor as she rushes to the main utility closet. You guide the man to a bed, helping him drop onto the thin mattress with a tortured groan. One of your hands splays over his, helping to maintain pressure on the wound until Sister Maria can bring in the needed supplies. Your other hand lays gently on his sweaty forehead, thumb caressing the straight line of his nose trying to soothe him. 

His baby blue eyes stare up at you through their pained haze. 

“P-please, help,”

The devil can take on many forms and carry many names.

And yet, despite all you’ve heard about who he is and what he’s done, you never once considered Billy the Kid to be one of them. 

Misguided and uncared for - sure, but never evil. 

He’s so young. You can’t even imagine what horrors he must have had to go through to lead him to the path that he’s on now.

Perhaps it’s fate that you’ve been brought together, an opportunity for you to spread the healing power of your Lord’s love and mend not only his body but his bruised heart as well. You’ve seen too many times where hardships have hardened the minds and spirits of others, caging them off from God as they struggle with their wavering faith. 

“Don’t you worry,” You say. “The Lord is here with us. He will see you through.”

Whether he groans from your words or the pain, you’re not sure.

Sister Maria is quick to grab the supplies, dumping them on the side table. She dunks a clean cloth in the water, wringing out the excess, but pauses when she sees his face. 

“Is that— ” 

“Nevermind that!” You hiss, pulling the cloth from her hand. 

You lift his shirt, exposing the injury and the dirt dusted skin framing it. It looks horrible, blood seeping from the laceration in a steady flow and a part of you is thankful that the sight of blood doesn’t make you immediately drop to the floor like your cousin, Paul. He gasps when you touch the cloth to the wound, blood immediately seeping into the white of the cloth and marring the pure color. 

His fingers dig into the fabric of his trousers, gripping it tight as he clenches his teeth against the pain. Your free hand rubs lightly against his forehead, trying to soothe him as best you can while you clean the wound. 

You think it must be God’s mercy that he passes out before you can pull the bullet out. The pain of the forceps digging into his body as you pulled out the thick ball of lead and the shock that would have come with it would have surely dragged him under had blood loss not gotten to him first. It’s better this way - he’s safer cradled in sleep’s loving hold rather than crying and jerking about as you try to save his life. 

Sister Maria holds a small bowl out in front of you with one hand while the other delicately holds his wrist, feeling his pulse between her dainty fingers.

The bullet comes out easy, your forceps finding the lead and guiding it out of the wound’s entrance with ease. It clanks as you drop it into the tiny bowl, and you send up prayers of thanks for allowing such a quick and simple removal. The grace of your Lord has certainly just saved this man’s life.

With quick fingers, you stitch him up, practiced movements securing the wound shut before covering it with a generous dressing of cloth to keep it clean from any dirt and debris. 

His sleep isn’t restful, the pinch in his brow and the way his cheeks twitch in the flickering candlelight of the small room make that clear. Your own brows pinch as you reach a hand out to trace the furrowed skin, smoothing it out with a gentle thumb. You don’t like seeing people suffer, but it’s more often than not that the people you come into contact with while working in the clinic are in pain, or suffering, or at Heaven’s doorstep. You help who you can and pray for the souls of the ones you can’t so they may be guided to God’s kingdom where they can live in an eternal paradise by His side. It always hurts when you can’t heal someone, the feeling of failure is a stark reminder that ultimately it is the Lord who chooses to give us life, and he can choose to take it away just as quickly. 

It feels different this time though, somehow more personal in a way you can’t understand. The young man before you still has his whole life ahead of him, still so much to do and so many lives to touch. The sins that he’s committed thus far can be forgiven, if only he lifts them up to Him and asks for forgiveness. You can feel it, deep in your bones, that you need to save this man. You can’t fail. 

He’s alive, for now. And you can only do your best to make sure he stays that way. 

“He cannot stay here,” Sister Maria says quietly, gathering the red stained water and rags. “They will find him.”

You nod, gathering the small bowl with the bullet remnant and the sutures kit. “We’ll keep him here tonight and move him to the back room in the morning after he’s rested a while,”

“No,” Sister Maria says. “He cannot stay here. Helping an outlaw is punishable by death. They will hang us,”

“God will not abandon us,” You say, firmly. “We are all His children, servants and outlaw alike. He wouldn’t want us to toss him out on the street to die.”

You look over your shoulder towards the sleeping man again. His brow is furrowed again, the sweat on his face glistening in the light. You sigh before turning back to Sister Maria. “Don’t worry, Sister. I’ll think of something,”

The pacifying words seem to offer Sister Maria no comfort, and her worried eyes snap upwards as she looks towards the ceiling, voice cracking as she breathes a pleading, “Por Dios,” up towards the roof. 

The room is silent to her plea.

You don’t leave Billy’s side the entire night, sitting in the chair directly next to the bed, dabbing at his heated face and neck with a damp washcloth and changing his bandage when the first one had soiled through. He wakes a few times during the night, icy blue eyes fluttering open and locking on yours for the briefest second before slipping closed once again, a quiet sigh escaping through his slightly parted lips. 

This is the hardest part - the waiting. Waiting to see if your hard work to heal someone was enough. You keep a close eye on him, looking for signs of pain or illness, keeping an eye on the injury site to try and prevent infection. You flushed it with alcohol during the dressing change, having found an extra bottle hiding in the supply closet while grabbing some fresh cloths. Supplies like alcohol for disinfecting, while needlessly abundant in saloons and brothels, are difficult to acquire for the clinic. You think it's foolish, wasting something that can be used for healing purposes on something as pointless as getting drunk. Your father had been a drunk, drinking away his cares and woes, his only goal was to make it to the bottom of a bottle. 

You wish you would have found it sooner so you could have actually disinfected the entire wound instead of just the outside and stitches, but this is better than nothing, you suppose. The smell as you pour it over his wound makes your stomach turn, reminding you of all the times your father came home reeking of the stuff, belly full of poison and his mind, hazed with drink, still evil enough to find your mother and make her suffer as if she were the reason he deemed himself a failure in life. Billy lets out a pained moan in his sleep, body subconsciously tensing in pain as the alcohol flushes the stitched up skin, but thankfully he doesn’t wake. You don’t want him to be in pain, but there’s a part of you that selfishly thinks he’s sharing your own pain, the memory of your childhood trauma somehow seeping into his brain as you recover his wound. 

You know it’s not true, but you’re thankful he’s there with you anyway. 

When morning arrives, you’re beyond exhausted. 

The night shift always takes more out of you than the day shift and your eyes have been threatening to close since the first rays of the sun started spreading across the dust covered floor of the clinic. 

Sister Ann and Sister Catherine arrive before the sun does, the first rays of it only starting to spill over the New Mexico horizon line when their footsteps echo through the entryway. You lean forward in your seat at the sound of them, glancing over at Billy’s still sleeping frame as Sister Ann’s gentle humming of a nursery song her mother used to sing to her spreads throughout the clinic. Quick footsteps cut through the song, the humming stopping entirely as frantic whispers sound from the entryway. And then three sets of running feet are getting closer to the corner room. 

“Oh, good heavens,” Sister Catherine breathes, eyes locked on the special patient taking up the small bed. 

Sister Ann has a dainty hand clasped against her mouth in shock and Sister Maria nervously wrings her own together from behind them. 

“He was hurt,” You say, immediately defensive of the injured man. “We couldn’t leave him to die. The Lord says–”

“You don’t need to preach to us, Sister y/n,” Sister Catherine interrupts. “It’s the right thing to do. The Lord is on our side.” She’s confident in her words, and it gives you comfort you didn’t know you needed to have your beliefs validated. But she pauses, eyes flickering once again to Billy before they meet yours - the fear in her brown orbs clear as day. “The law, on the other hand, will not be.” 

“We need to move him,” You say.

“To where?” Sister Ann whispers frantically. “The sheriff and his deputies are sure to show up here. They know he’s been shot, it’s only a matter of time.”

“It is a blessing they have not come already,” Sister Maria adds.

They’re right. With Billy injured, they have to know he couldn’t have gotten far. Their only saving grace is that the Sheriff more than likely would have never believed Billy would have come to the clinic for medical attention if on the run from the law. Perhaps holed up in some abandoned alley, bleeding out while propped up against a wall. Or maybe they think he tried riding out of town, desperate to get as far away from the people hunting him as possible before inevitably succumbing to his injuries and falling off his horse in a nearby field. 

You rise from the chair, leaning over the bed slightly to rest a gentle hand on Billy’s forehead. It’s still clammy against your palm and he shivers slightly in his sleep, subconsciously pressing his head a little harder against your hand looking for comfort in his pained state. He needs to get away from here, away from any prying eyes because if he’s found, his life on this Earth is over. He is in no position to run or fight for his life. The road to recovery for him is a long one if he hopes to heal well enough to regain his strength and usual mobility. The only thing he will have to look forward to if discovered before he can is a necklace of rope and a quick fall. 

“Help me get him to the back room,” You say, sternly. In moments of uncertainty and panic, someone needs to be the guiding light. Your fellow Sisters are still as stones in their spots, all in various states of distress as they look at the man who, if discovered under their care, could very well be the catalyst that marks the end of their missions here on Earth. The Lord brought Billy to you - you need to protect him. “He can stay in the alcove until we can figure out where to take him.”

“He cannot stay in the clinic!” Sister Maria exclaims. “They will surely check every room searching for him!”

“Trust me,” You soothe. “Please, Sister. We need to move him before they come or we will all surely pay the price.”

There is a short pause, but to your frantic brain it feels like an eternity before Sister Catherine nods and gently nudges Sister Ann to the opposite side of the bed. 

“Let’s hurry,” She says, reaching to pull away the thin blanket you threw over Billy’s shaking frame at some point during the night. “I fear we don’t have much time left.”

Together, the four of you lift Billy from the bed. It’s a struggle. Even for multiple women to carry a fully grown man, it's a task and a half just to get him from the small patient room to the back area of the clinic. He whines in his sleep, his wound jostling and stitches pulling from the regretfully poor stability you have on his body as you carry him. But, somehow, he doesn’t wake. 

The back room is small, but comparatively large compared to the patient’s rooms. The entire width is the size of two patient rooms combined, but that’s not giving it much grace. It makes you sick sometimes, to see people with money spending it on lavish items, large houses and grand parties just to show off their wealth when there are people in need all around whose lives would change if they only had a fraction of the wealth the ones in good standing do. As it is, the back room of the clinic is despairingly bare - limited backstock of supplies, linens, and food are scattered among the wooden shelves lining the room. If only those wealthy men who think to only fill their pockets would hear the Lord’s call to give to the needy instead. It would make your heart happy to see these shelves filled just once. 

There’s a small alcove in the back of the room that you and the other Sisters use when times prove most trying. On the days when things are difficult, emotions are too much for you to handle alone or a patient isn’t doing well and there’s nothing you can do other than wait and pray for their recovery, you visit the alcove. It's been adorned with simple yet revenant items, a small yet beautiful cross nailed to the center of the wall, a small ceramic dish holding a wooden beaded rosary placed on the floor below it, resting on a pleasantly fluffed up pillow - ready to help guide their prayer. 

Resting against the side wall of the alcove is a folded up cot. It’s not uncommon that one of the Sisters might have to sleep at the clinic during their off shift. More often than not, they are able to return to their lodgings to sleep and reenergize for their next shift. But there are times when too many people are injured, too many of the townspeople have fallen ill to whatever flu or illness that’s crossing through the town and all hands are needed here. The foldable cot is their home away from home, and while it might not be the most comfortable, you are thankful the Lord was able to provide it lest you be made to sleep on the floor behind the extra blankets neatly folded on the shelves. 

You all adjust your grips on the young man allowing for Sister Maria to release her hold and pull back the thick blanket shielding the entrance to the alcove. You grunt under the presence of the additional weight, the awkward grip you all have on him unhelpful in the way his limp body bears down on you all. Sister Maria is quick in tying back the privacy blanket so that it stays to one side, and works to wrangle open the finicky cot. Once it’s unrolled, you help in depositing Billy down onto the makeshift bed, quickly checking his wound to make sure no stitches accidentally ripped in the journey back here before turning to accept the fresh blanket Sister Ann hands you from the shelf. 

Billy’s brow is furrowed again, breathing a little harsher probably from the pain of being jostled. You lay out the blanket over top of him and pull it up to his chin, your hand reaching out to smooth the wrinkled skin between his eyes again. 

“What do we do now?” Sister Ann asks, and Sister Catherine pulls her hand away from where it was plucking nervously at the skin at the sides of her fingers.

“We wait,” She responds, cradling Sister Ann’s damaged hand delicately between her own. “We won’t be able to move him out of the clinic before the Sheriff arrives. We’ll have to keep him hidden here until then and pray they don’t find him.”

The thought of the Sheriff and his men finding Billy here makes your stomach churn. The undeniable fate that waits for you if he’s discovered is one that you’re willing to sacrifice. He’s come here for help, God has brought him here to you for your healing and protection and you can’t fail Him just because your humanity makes you fearful of your end. It’s supposed to be a beautiful thing - death. The moment when your soul on this Earth fulfills its mission here and your granted eternal life at the side of God in the Kingdom of Heaven. It’s what you’ve wanted your whole life, a life of peace and serenity that seems so out of reach here on the soil. Fear will not keep you from looking forward to it. But you’re not done here yet, you have many years left of helping others and spreading His love to those in need. This is not your end. But if it is, it’s worth the sacrifice to try to save Billy. 

You’ll hang with him, if need be. 

Your fellow Sisters though . . . the thought of them hanging for your own choice, regardless of if you think it was the right thing to do, makes you sick. Your decisions are your own, and they shouldn’t suffer for your choices. 

Billy’s forehead unwrinkles under your gentle fingers, and you can feel your heart break as you look down at him. He’s so young still, a young man just at the beginning of his life. He has so many fine years ahead of him. He’s handsome, fit and strong - he would make a fine husband for some lucky lady, a dutiful father for his children. He’s not as evil as they say. You’ve learned to trust your instincts when it comes to people. Sometimes the most misunderstood people are the kindest, and you can’t help but think Billy is the most misunderstood of all. You can’t sense a single whisper of badness in him. 

You stand up and pull the privacy blanket back in front of the alcove, hiding Billy from sight in the safety of God’s makeshift altar. Together, you and the other Sisters make your way out of the back room. A few rooms down a sickly man is coughing up a storm, and from how hard and continuous his coughs are, you know his throat is raw. Sister Ann shoots the rest of you a worried look, but turns to grab a water carafe off of a side table before rushing down the hall towards the coughing man and away from the current situation. 

“You can head back, Sister Maria,” You say, placing a calming hand on her shoulder. “Get some rest. It’s going to be a long day and we’re going to need you for the night shift.”

You can tell she’s torn, both wanting to stay and help in any way she can but seeming to know that there’s nothing she can do. All there is to do is wait. After a few moments, she nods, her own hand coming up to rest on top of yours. “Que Dios te bendiga,”

You watch as she makes her way towards the front, pushing open the wooden door before jerking to a halt. “Sheriff Garrett! Qué sorpresa!”

Her words sent a spark of panic through you. It’s so soon! You knew it was coming, but it’s still so incredibly soon. You had hoped for at least a while longer to try to gather your thoughts and think of a plan of where you can take Billy, but it feels like time moves slowly as the Sheriff and two of his deputies step into the clinic.

“Sister,” Garrett responds, respectfully tipping his hat. 

Even through your panic, you still feel a twinge of irritation. A gentleman would take off his hat, but you suppose it’s better than the two men standing behind him who do nothing but trail their eyes around the clinic's entrance suspiciously (and with a clear bout of judgment).

You know for a fact these men with gold lined pockets have never given so much as a dime to the clinic. 

Sister Maria turns back to look at you and Sister Catherine, desperation clear in her eyes and you're glad that none of the men are looking at her anymore or you think her obvious distress might have given you all away.

“Have a good rest, Sister,” You say, urging Sister Maria away. Thankfully, she listens, nodding to you and then Garrett before scurrying out the door. 

“How can we help you, Sheriff?” Sister Catherine asks. 

Garrett takes a few leisurely steps along the entryway, observing the interior of the clinic with the aura of a man who thinks he can see everything. You suspect he sees nothing at all. 

“I apologize for the interruption, Sisters. I know you’re hard at work," He says. “But we’re looking for an outlaw on the run.” He pauses, looking over at the two of you with pointed eyes. At your silence, he continues. “William H. Bonney, otherwise known as Billy the Kid,”

“Oh, dear,” Sister Catherine gasps. 

You feign concern also, bringing your fingers to your mouth as a sign of shock. Garrett nods in agreement at your supposed horror. 

“As you no doubt know he is a very dangerous, very unlawful, man,”

“So we’ve heard,” Sister Catherine says, nodding solemnly. “Is that what brings you in today?”

“Yes,” He says. “There was an altercation last night between him and I. I was able to shoot him so he is very hurt, but he got away before I could arrest him or finish the job.”

“Kinda stupid to come to a clinic when you’re a wanted outlaw, Pat,” One of the men behind Garrett grumbles. “We’re wasting our time here.”

You can’t help but agree, despite that being exactly what Billy did. But maybe that’s what makes it smart. You're hopeful that Garrett will listen to his friend, will assume that Billy couldn’t possibly be here and leave the clinic without investigating it. 

The small spark of hope dies as Garrett laughs without mirth. “The Kid’s not stupid. But we’re covering all our bases,” 

“Helloooooo,” A voice calls from another room opposite the patient still occasionally coughing up a lung. “Can someone please pay attention to the sick people around here? Hellooooooooooo?”

Sister Catherine smiles tightly. “Mr. Taylor,” She says by way of explanation. “A rather problematic patient here. He’s a good man, just impatient.”

Sister Ann’s voice can still be heard attempting to soothe her own charge, so Sister Catherine has no choice but to tend to Mr. Taylor. When she disappears from sight, you turn back to Garrett, trying your best to deter suspicion. 

“I can assure you, Sheriff, that we haven’t seen any sign of Mr. Bonney around here,” The lie leaves your lips far too easily for it to feel like the sin that it is.

Garrett nods, and you can tell he believes you, but puts his hands on his hips all the same, one hand pushing aside his coat to rest freely on the hilt of his gun. “Mind if we have a look around?”  

You force a smile on your face. “Not at all. As long as you don’t bother any of the patients. They need their rest,”

“Certainly,”

You lead him around the clinic allowing him and the deputies to search the rooms for their missing outlaw. When they get to Billy’s old room, the room they just vacated not minutes before the Sheriff arrived, you tell them that a patient was recently discharged and that you hadn’t had the time to turn over the room yet. 

“Why is there blood on ‘em?” One of the deputies asks, nodding to the blood stains still covering the stark white of the sheets. 

“A cooking accident,” You reply. “An incorrect knife hold can sometimes do that,”

Another lie. You feel this one a little more than the first. 

Eventually their search comes to the back room. You can’t keep them out, that would be too suspicious, so you allow them to walk through the half filled shelves. It's more than clear that there’s no place to hide anyone here other than the alcove and you're naively hoping they won’t even realize it’s there. 

It’s a large blanket hanging on the wall. Of course, they’re going to notice it. 

And, sure enough, one of the deputy’s eyes cut to the blanket. He heads towards it with a gruff “What’s behind here?” but you intercept him, rushing over to stand between him and the alcove.

The Sheriff and his deputies have their eyes on you now, each one closing in closer to you and the alcove, much too close for comfort.

“Sister,” Garrett says, voice stern with authority. “What’s behind the blanket?”

“It’s our place of prayer here,” You say, voice calm despite your nervousness. “Our altar.” You can’t mess up now. If you show any sign that you’re being untruthful, both you and Billy as well as your fellow Sisters out front will be on a one way trip to the courthouse. You’ll all die hanging from its top banister. “When healing doesn’t seem to be enough, it helps to have a place dedicated to God to call upon his everlasting power to perform miracles.”

Garrett nods. “Mind if we take a look?”

“Yes, actually. I do,” Your quick denial clearly catches him off guard, his eyebrows raising towards his hat. “Just as God bids us to modesty with our clothing, we must also show privacy and modesty in our places of worship. They’re sacred spaces. Surely you understand that, Sheriff,” 

The words feel like poison on your tongue. Using worship and prayer to cover up a lie is the catalyst that makes bile feel like it's rising in your throat. It’s not a lie, you have to remind yourself. It is a makeshift altar, you do use it as a place of worship and prayer. Just . . . not right at this moment. 

The reality of the situation is catching up with you, and you hide your slightly shaking hands by folding them together in front of you. You haven’t lied in years. You lied a lot as a child, a necessity of living with a father who’s anger could strike at a moment’s notice. You resented having to do it back then, forced to sin for the sake of trying to keep peace in the home. It’s much like the situation you find yourself in now, having to lie to try and protect another person. To protect yourself. 

When you found refuge at the convent all those years ago, you were told you would never have to be untruthful ever again.

“God is granting you freedom from your woes,” You were told, and you remember how light those words had made you feel. “Thank him for His good graces with your undying loyalty and strive to always be who He guides you to be.”

You hadn’t lied since, no matter how tough things seemed. Sickly patients lying on their deathbed, scared and begging you for any kind of reassurance that it wasn’t the end for them. You wouldn’t give them false hope. Instead, you would tell them to turn their worries to the Lord, clasping their hands in yours and praying with them.

“Your soul is strong, bright and ever-present,” You would tell them. Sometimes you would let them hold your rosary so they can find comfort in it. “The body is a temple, and we do our best in our life to care for it. You’ve done that. If it weakens now, it is because God is calling your soul back to Him.”

The guilt is clawing at your chest, but you force it back as best as you can as you meet Garrett’s eyes. “I ask that you don’t force us to desecrate that,” 

Garrett just stares at you, an unreadable expression on his face. One deputy just looks between you and Garrett, uncertain with how to proceed in the face of defying authority, and the other deputy that sneered at the thought of Billy even coming to the clinic scoffs at your words. 

“Listen, lady, the law–”

“John, enough,” Garrett interrupts, voice shockingly hard as his eyes cut to his deputy. “She’s a Sister and you’ll show her respect.”

You feel a quick spark of satisfaction at the way the deputy’s confident, power hungry facade dies under the Sheriff's ridicule. He mumbles a quick apology to which you accept with a nod despite how insincere it sounds. 

Garrett nods his head towards the door, silently gesturing for the other two to head towards the exit before he tips his hat at you directly, thanking you for your time and apologizing for any inconvenience their visit may have caused. 

You want to tell him it was no inconvenience at all, but you’ve already sinned enough today and you can’t bear the thought of intentionally adding to the tally without justified need. Instead you settle on curving your lips into a convincing smile, thanking the men in return for their brevity and understanding and wishing them a good rest of their day as you usher them out of the back room and towards the front entrance.

Every single muscle in your body relaxes once they are completely out of the clinic, relief washing over you as you whisper out a quick prayer of thanks to God for allowing everyone to get out of the overwhelmingly dangerous situation unscathed - at least for now. 

Sister Ann and Sister Catherine peek out of their respective rooms when they hear the front door swing shut, their wide eyes mimicking the relief you know is shown in your own. 

“I can’t believe they didn’t find him,” Sister Ann admits, and it pains your heart to see tears begin to well up in her eyes. “I thought this was truly the end for all of us.” 

You have her in your arms in an instant, cradling her small frame against your chest as she begins to cry in earnest. For as scary as it’s been for you so far, you can’t imagine what she’s been going through. Sister Ann and Sister Catherine have only known about Billy for less than no time at all. And yet, despite the short period of time between finding out about Billy, getting him into the alcove, and the entrance and departure of the Sheriff - you’re sure it probably felt like an eternity to her. 

“Hush now, Sister,” You whisper, running a soothing hand along her back. “You’re safe, I promise.”

Sister Catherine places one of her hands on Sister Ann’s back as well, but she’s looking at you when she speaks. “He still can’t stay here,”

You know that. You know. You got lucky that the Sheriff didn’t find Billy this time, but who's to say that he won’t come back when he’s unable to find his missing outlaw anywhere else? Covering all his bases, that’s what he said. He’ll come back again when he sees that his other ‘bases’ have turned up nothing but dead ends. 

Your older brother, Joe, has a cabin just outside of town. It’s a hidden place, specifically built for peace. No visitors. He lives alone, no wife or children to keep him company and he prefers it that way. 

“If I’m alone, I can’t turn into him,” 

You're positive he wouldn’t. Your brother is far from being anything like your father, but the task of trying to prove that to him seems to be out of your skillset. He tells you he’s happy with his life, that he’s chosen the path he feels he needs to be on just as you have. Who are you to pass judgment?

Joe likes the solitude, that much is certain. But he also has an adventurous spirit which guides him on lengthy trips from town to town, exploring all the world has to offer while never having to be tied to one place. He’s away now according to the last letter he sent you, planning to stay in Chihuahua, Mexico for a while and that he’s not sure yet when he’s going to be back. 

“It’s dangerous,” Sister Catherine pushes, taking your silence as reluctance.

“I know,” You say. “I know. I think . . . I think I have an idea.”

The cabin will be empty. Joe isn’t due back for the immediate future, and even if he does return earlier than you suspect he will, you and Billy won’t be in danger. Joe can be trusted. He’ll help you, if need be. You can’t imagine that the Sheriff would ever know about it. It’s secluded - far off of any of the usual paths. It’s safe there. The perfect place to hide the wanted outlaw for a while. He can rest there, heal up uninterrupted for a few weeks until he can safely move around on his own two feet again. 

Sister Catherine listens openly to the idea, but her face is pinched in displeasure. 

“We don’t have much of a choice,” She says, reluctantly. “It seems like the best place for him to disappear to until he’s healed.”

You can hear the underlying pause in her agreement loud and clear. “But?”

“The clinic cannot spare two of us. We would lose half of our staff and it is too much for one person to handle alone per shift,”

“I wouldn’t ask any of you to come with us,” You say. No, for as much as you believe God sent Billy into your life for a reason, this was your mission to bear. You’ve already put your fellow Sisters through enough.

“You want to go alone?” Sister Ann sniffles, raising her head up from your chest.

“You need to think about this,” Sister Catherine says, sternly. “You shouldn’t be alone with him. He is a child of God, yes. But he is also an outlaw and a man. Sometimes, one of those is worse than the other.”

They’re being protective. The more rational part of you is grateful for their concern, and you think that if the positions were switched and one of them were in your position instead, you would react the same way. But a part of you is bitter. They’ve heard the stories. You know exactly how cruel men can be and you know exactly what they’re capable of. It’s a risk you’re taking, but you feel called to take it anyway. Billy needs your help, and God would never put anything in your path that you can’t handle.

“The Lord will protect me,” Despite the truthfulness of your words, you can see how they do little to reassure them. Your next words are better. “The Lord will help me protect myself.”

Sister Ann looks at Sister Catherine, once again bringing her hands together to pick at the reddened skin at the edge of her nail. Sister Catherine sighs, and the back of her hand reaches up to tap her forehead as if feeling the temperature or wiping away sweat. 

“Alright,” She relents. “How do we get him to your brother’s cabin?”

“I don’t know,” You admit. “We need a wagon. Or a large wheelbarrow that we can put him in and attach it to a horse. I haven’t ridden a horse in a long time, but I’m sure I can manage.”

“Where are we supposed to get that?” Sister Ann’s tone borders on exasperated. 

As if answering your unspoken prayer, the door to the clinic opens once more, this time revealing a bright faced Samuel Anderson, carrying a crate full of fresh supplies. And behind him, lit up by the sunlight like a bright blessing, is his wagon.

Sam Anderson is the son of local store owner, Edward Anderson, the clinic's top provider for basic supplies that are not strictly medical. While medicine shipments and more specialty items are donated from suppliers farther away, and frankly much less frequent than necessary, Mr. Anderson and Sam never fail to come through with plenty of food for you to make soups and nutritious meals for your patients. On occasion, you even have enough to give away to the families who are stacked together in a small two bedroom on the edge of town. With eight children total between two families, you're honestly not sure how they manage - but you do your best to help when you can. 

Seeing Sam walk through the front door is like a beacon of light from Heaven is shining down on him. He’s smiling already, the crate of food handled carefully between his hands as he lets out a cheery, “Good morning, Sisters”. But as soon as he sees your faces, more specifically when he sees the tear tracks still visible on Sister Ann’s cheeks, he’s placing down the crate and across the clinic’s entrance in a second. 

“What’s going on?” He asks. His hands automatically reach out towards Sister Ann’s face as if to cup it, but he stops himself. Instead he just looks at her worriedly, his concerned gaze leaving her face for only a moment to glance at you and Sister Catherine before they’re back on her, voice low and gentle. “What’s wrong?” 

It’s no secret that Sam harbors some romantic feelings towards Sister Ann. There are days when you feel sorry for him - a young man, good and kind and generous, who you have no doubt would make a fine husband to any lucky woman is in love with one of the four women in the entire county who are incapable of returning his affection. But it’s moments like this when it’s easy to see God’s presence in other people. Sam is as respectful and kind as they come. He accepts his feelings can never be reciprocated and in turn uses his undying love and loyalty to Sister Ann by helping you all at the clinic with anything he can. 

Somehow, he doesn’t expect anything in return, never stares at Sister Ann with an ounce of lust in his eyes, and it warms your heart to see the godly quality that’s usually so absent in men so prevalent in him. 

“Something’s happened,” Sister Ann tells him, her voice still wobbly with emotion. 

“What?”

“Sam,” You say, calling his attention back to you. “I know I have no place to ask this and I won’t fault you if you decline, but– I’m asking.”

“Tell me,” He insists, pulling his hat from his head and holding it to his chest, and God bless how the sincerity in his voice bleeds into his words. “Whatever it is, I’ll do it,” 

So you tell him everything. Sam listens with wide eyes, shooting panicked glances at Sister Catherine and Sister Ann when you tell him about the Sheriff’s visit, and he’s genuinely sorrowful when your voice gets caught in your throat as you tell him that you had to tell some lies to get him to leave without discovering Billy. He’s nodding already when you mention your brother’s cabin.

“I’ll take you there,” He offers before you can even ask the question. “My wagon is always at your disposal.”

“It’s dangerous. If we’re caught, you would hang with us,” 

Sam lets out a breath, unconsciously glancing over at Sister Ann again. “If the four most wonderful and religiously minded people in town hang for trying to do the right thing, then this isn’t a town or even a world that I want to live in anymore. Please let me take you. It would be my honor,”

A small smile graces your lips as you reach out and gently cup his cheek in thanks. For as many men pull and grind on your nerves with their endless greed and manipulation tactics, Sam is a breath of fresh air - a truly God-fearing man with a good heart.

He’s another person that you’re putting at risk, another life in danger because of the choice you’ve made. You try not to think yourself too selfish. Surely the fact that Billy has turned up in your life is God’s plan, and He does not put obstacles in your way that you cannot overcome. 

He tells you that he’ll come back tomorrow. He has a delivery that’s expected in a town over and if he’s going to make it there and back before nightfall, he needs to leave before the sun comes up. 

“I’ll stop here first,” He says. “We can load him into the back of the wagon while most people are sleeping and make the trip to your brother’s before I head on my way.”

“Thank you, Sam. Honestly,”

“My pleasure,” He nods his head at you, replacing his hat and tipping it kindly towards Sister Catherine and Sister Ann. “Until tomorrow, Sisters,”

The door swings shut behind him as he leaves and you let out a deep breath, hands smoothing over the dark veil covering your head just to feel a bit more grounded before you pick up the crate of food Sam brought. Billy needs to eat something. You're not quite sure how long it's been since his last meal, but even if he ate a minute before bursting through the clinic’s doors in the early morning, he would surely still be hungry and in need of sustenance by now. His body is weak and it needs nourishment to heal. 

Billy’s still sleeping when you peek around the privacy blanket. His head is turned to the side and buried in his pillow as much as he can get it, mouth hanging open as he breathes. Your hand itches to reach out and touch him again, to smooth against his forehead or cup his cheek, maybe place your fingers under his chin to help close his mouth in hopes of him breathing through his nose instead so his mouth doesn’t dry out. 

You’re not sure where this desire is coming from. You’re as affectionate with your patients as any nurse should be - kind and supportive, offering comfort when needed, but not overly so that it can be considered inappropriate. You’re all brothers and sisters, children of God - yes. But there are still social norms that must be considered. 

It feels different with Billy for some reason. 

“I’m going to get you to safety,” You whisper. You’re unsure about if he can hear you in his sleep or not, but you feel the need to tell him anyway. “I promise.”

You fall asleep at some point during the night, slumped against the wall next to the alcove’s entrance. 

You don’t remember falling asleep. You remember feeling tired, exhausted by the stress of the day’s events, and how your eyelids were threatening to close permanently more and more with each blink. The soup you had made still sat out in the small kitchen, and you had wanted to stay close to Billy so that whenever he awoke, you would be there ready to help feed him.

Instead, you wake to the sound of Sister Maria giggling to your left and a low, unfamiliar but still soft voice speaking in Spanish to her.

“Y él no quería que su mamá lo supiera. Así enterró la carne en el jardín,” The voice lets out a small chuckle, the smile on his face evident in his tone despite you not being able to understand most of his words. “Pero el perro la desenterró y ella se descubrió de todos modos. Tuvo que lavar platos él solo por dos meses.”

“Ese niño,” Sister Maria laughs. “Parece que era un buen amigo.”

You can’t see his face, but you can hear how he loses the smile in his voice. “Sí, él era,”

Pushing yourself to your feet, you step over to where Sister Maria is kneeling in front of Billy’s cot. It’s only now you see the mostly finished bowl of soup in her hands. Billy’s sitting up slightly, back propped up against his pillows enough to allow him to sit up a bit straighter but not enough to pull too much on his stitches.

At seeing your movement, his eyes snap to your approaching frame, big blue orbs staring up at you and you can’t help the relief you feel at seeing them.

“You’re awake,” You breathe, a small smile pulling at your lips. “Thank the Lord,”

His lips twitch a bit in what looks like a suppressed smile. “Kinda sounds like I should be thankin' you,” He says, and you notice how prominent the shift in his accent is as he seamlessly switches from Spanish to English. “Sister Maria says that you’re the only reason I’m alive right now.”

You shake your head, humbly. “Oh, no. Sister Maria and I work together as a team. I couldn’t have done it without her aid,”

“You show no fear,” Sister Maria insists. “Where I hesitate, you show mercy and strength. It is because of you that we are all alive now.”

“See?” Billy says with a blinding grin, and you can’t help but notice how handsome he is while no longer at death’s door. “My angel,”

You feel your face heat up at the endearment. An angel. Surely the comparison shouldn’t fluster you like it does. You’ve thought of your fellow nuns as the embodiment of angels before, angelic beings put into human bodies by the grace of God to spread His word. You know that’s not exactly true, that you’re just using your belief of what God’s angels would be like and seeing those beings in your fellow Sisters just like Billy is doing with you now, but you’ve never once thought yourself to be comparable to such a holy being and the compliment makes you flush.

You run a hand across your face, feeling the warmth under your palm, and clear your throat. “Oh, well, thank you,”

Sister Maria stands, taking the nearly finished bowl of soup with her. “He has eaten plenty and I changed his covering as soon as he woke up. You will want to change it again when you get to the cabin.”

“That’s great. Thank you,”

“De nada. I’ll go check on the patients and keep an eye out for Sam,”

She nods to you and Billy before she turns to leave, a small smile pulling at her lips when Billy rasps out a soft, “Gracias, Hermana,”

When she’s gone, you take her place in front of Billy, kneeling at his side and placing a gentle hand on his shoulder. “How are you feeling?”

“Much better thanks to you,” He responds, wide eyes trained on yours, a smirk playing at his lips as he continues. “Don’t feel much like I’m dyin’ anymore,”

A small laugh escapes you at his morbid joke. “Well, I’d say that’s a very good thing then,”

“Sister Maria said the Sheriff came lookin’ for me,” 

“He did,” You confirm. “The Lord kept us all safe though and has given us an opportunity to get you to safety.”

Billy’s eyebrow raises skeptically. “Sounds like it was more your doin' than the Lord’s,”

You try to not let the slight against God rattle you. You had sensed this was coming anyway. William H. Bonney a.k.a Billy the Kid is an outlaw afterall, and no outlaw becomes an outlaw while still maintaining a positive relationship with the Heavenly Father. He’s gone through many hardships no doubt, and has more than likely deemed his bad luck in life as God’s personal vendetta against him.

“The Lord speaks through all of us, if only we have an open heart to hear him.” You tell him.  “Fear can make His words harder to hear, and I’m thankful that He was able to guide my mind and heart enough through the fear for us to get to safety.”

“Hm,” Billy hums, and you can tell how much he doesn’t believe your words. He doesn’t argue though. “And where exactly is this safe place you’re gonna take me?”

“My brother has a cabin just outside of town. It’s well secluded and unknown to most. We’ll be safe there until you’re healed enough to go on your own.”

Billy’s eyes drop to your hand still resting on his shoulder, thick dark lashes casting shadows on his cheeks before his bright blue eyes are locked on yours again. “You gonna be takin’ care of me, Sister?”

“Of course, I will,” You reply. “We shall see you well again, Billy. I promise.”

His own arm crosses his chest so his hand can rest on your own, his eyes wide and so earnest as he whispers a quiet, “Thank you,”

It’s only about an hour longer before Sam arrives. It’s still early morning, the sun still a ways away from coming up behind the horizon line, and town is silent. Sam pulls his wagon up to the back door of the backroom before coming around the front to help push it open from the inside. It’s been so long since it’s been opened. The door was once used for the scheduled delivery of goods for easy access to the storage area, but as years went on and the county and surrounding counties became overrun with greed and poverty, the shipments became less frequent. Now, anything needed just comes through the front door. It’s never too much anyway, so what’s a trip or two to the backroom while carrying a crate. 

Sam slams his body against the door a few times, the wood groaning in protest under his weight before it finally swings open. Billy watches from his place on the cot, his eyes threatening to close but forcing himself to stay awake. You want to tell him to sleep, he needs his rest to help him heal and recover, but you’re too busy checking your bag to make sure you haven't forgotten anything before tossing it in the back of the wagon. You need to leave before the townspeople start to wake up. If someone sees you, if just one person witnesses you smuggling away a wanted outlaw, then all of this would have been for nothing. 

“Sister y/n,” Sam calls, squatting at the head of the cot. He’s got his arms wrapped around Billy’s torso. “Come grab his legs. We’ll do our best not to jostle his wound,”

You come to a kneel at Billy’s legs, placing a comforting hand on his knee. “Do your best to relax, okay? If you tense, you might tear your stitches,”

Billy lets out a harsh breath through his nose, clearly nervous, but he nods anyway, brows furrowed in determination. 

Together you and Sam hoist him up. He gasps, groaning as his wound pulls but you can see how he’s trying to keep his stomach untensed. Getting him into the back of the wagon is not graceful, and you find yourself spewing endless apologies the whole time despite the relatively short journey. 

Sam’s laid out a bed of hay covered by two thick blankets throughout the entire bed of the wagon. Crates of food and other supplies take up half of the bed, but he’s managed to make it so Billy will have enough room to lay comfortably on his designated side. Billy sighs as he’s laid down on it, one of his legs bent at the knee and his palms pressing into the makeshift mattress as he cranes his neck up to look at you. You ball up a spare blanket, tucking it under his head before you push him back down with a gentle hand on his forehead.

“Rest now, Billy,” You tell him, crawling out backwards and helping Sam slide on the rectangular backing on the wagon to secure it shut. “We’ll be there when you wake up,”

His eyes stay locked on you as you circle the wagon towards the front. Sam helps you up onto the spring seat before jogging around the rear and hauling himself into the driver's seat. You smooth out your tunic, looking around the dark street for any suspicious or wandering eyes that might be peeking out from around buildings or through windows. You don’t see any, even as one of the horses whinnies when Sam urges them forward. The clinic is located towards the edge of town, so it only takes a few minutes of nervous eyes and your head on a swivel before the wagon is passing the final few buildings that mark the town’s end of population and you can relax.

You blow out a deep breath, meeting Sam’s equally relieved gaze as he snaps the reins and nudges the horses a little faster. You look over your shoulder to check on Billy and you’re expecting to see him sleeping, no doubt still exhausted from the trauma of taking a bullet. Instead, he’s looking at you, head twisting so he can see your elevated frame from his laid out position. His eyes seem to pierce into yours, so blue and intense as he watches you that it makes your breathing hitch in your throat. 

You’ve never seen eyes so beautiful before. Like endless pools of glistening water. Surely God must have taken much care when crafting them for him. 

You feel your skin prickle under his stare, body straightening in your seat. He doesn’t stop watching you.

“Sleep,” You tell him. “You’re safe, I promise.” And thankfully he listens, eyes trained on your face for just a moment more before closing his eyes. The tingling feeling in your body dissipates with the removed gaze. 

Your gaze turns around the front again, looking out to the vast stretch of land before you as you leave the civilization of town behind.

“Sam,” You start, looking for anything to pass the time and distract from whatever unusualness just happened between you and your charge. “How’s your mother?”

[fiendforbyler]

wait y’all i just realised something that is probably niche as fuck but anyway! if you know/have read the Keeper of the Lost Cities series in it’s entirety you will understand the relationship/love triangle between sophie, fitz and keefe. from the beginning fitz is set up at sophie’s love interest, even as young kids (i believe she is 12 in the first book? and he is maybe a year older? not 100% it’s been a while). she crushed on him for majority of the series and finally in book 7/8 they get together with a seemingly very romantic gesture from fitz, with many hints during the series that fitz liked her back. point is: we were all rooting for them. it is imprtant to note that it’s also always been hinted at but later in the series confirmed that keefe has major feelings for sophie as well. for me, this is representative of mike/el/will love triangle, with sophie being mike, keefe being will, and fitz being el. now, i don’t really like fitz but i LOVE el so yeah this isn’t a flawless comparison but ANYWAY back to my main point!! keefe (will) is so likeable with a tragic backstory, troubling plot line, has a lot of trauma AND a sorry crush on a girl (boy) who (supposedly) has eyes only for one person since the beginning- something that has been clearly set up and formed into a seemingly sweet relationship readers have been rooting for from the beginning. yeah this is sounding familiar? here’s the problem (or solution for sophkeefe/byler shippers like i): ITS NOT WHAT SOPHIE THOUGHT IT WOULD BE. fitz pressures her into trying to find her bio parents so they could be matched, he is aggressive and possessive over her (not in a good way) and she breaks up with him. during this, i’m pretty sure she begins to crush on keefe as well- keefe in permanent denial she could ever like him back of course- and feels terribly guilty about it, because she still has feeling for fitz. (yeah i told you, not the perfect comparison but you understand what i’m getting at right?) while things with fitz get worse, sophie starts genuinely discovering how she really feels about keefe, with lines like “if she was really really honest- and really really brave- she had to admit that the idea of being with keefe sounded… kind of amazing. Yes, it was scary. and yes there were risks. but wouldn’t it be worth trying?” wouldn’t it be worth trying? ladies and gents, we just discovered mikes inner monologue!!! scary, risky, but worth it? its what will is to him! mike has always been “too insecure to let (him)self see what’s right in front of (him)” (a line taken from the book!!!!!!) will is in front of him. he is being so distracted by his internalised homophobia that he has NOOO idea what he is missing!! “‘SERIOUSLY, STOP!’ she told herself again…/ adding those kind of feelings to a friendship pretty much ruined everything. ( talking about fitz)”

and it’s all oh so familiar…

BUT WAIT! THERES MORE! finally, FINALLY, during our long awaited kiss scene, she says this:

“some tiny part of her head had always wondered if kissing keefe could really be as great as everyone claimed. but kissing keefe was so. much. better.”

yeah. and then blah blah they get interrupted by who? of yes of course fitzy the ex boyfriend is here. and he says what when he finds out? OH YEAH. “you kissed him? you didn’t even kiss me!”

THAT SOUNDS A LOT LIKE “you never say it/i say it” AND “i didn’t say it/you didn’t have to” or pretty much the same way mike acts around will vs el.

you know what else? mikes inability to say i love you to el (hasn’t kissed fitz) but so clearly communicate it to will (kissing keefe)

if you haven’t read all this (and i don’t blame you!!) just read this next paragraph!

but back to my main MAIN point. sophitz was the ship EVERYONE (except maybe a select few) wanted right up until they got together!! it was perfect on paper, cute, with history and seemingly ‘connected’ character (as per the plot), and as soon as they got together, everything fell apart, as well as sophie closing herself off and beginning to lose fitz even before the downfall of their relationship due to her suppressed feelings about keefe. (cough cough MIKE) they need to break up for her to realise keefe was the better match all along. keefe, who never thought he as a chance. keefe, who loved her from the start. KEEFE, WHO LET HIS BEST FRIEND HAVE HER IF IT MEANT HAPPINESS TO THEM.

ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME? please tell me i’m not crazy!! thank you for reading this it took me a long time to write but it also felt great to write this out even if no one reads this. hail to byler and a reminder we are one day closer to seeing them on screen. have a great day/night!

[n3xii]

why you're an icon (pac)

maybe a year ago i started (but did not finish) a series where I did posts describing why you're an icon. Today I plan on continuing that- this reading will describe why people are drawn to you and what they love most about you. today's muse is Fairouz, also spelled Fayrouz, Fairuz in English. Her name in Lebanese (hopefully pls correct if mistranslated <3) :  فيروز, check out my services if you're interested in a personal reading : services

Fairouz is one of the most famous Lebanese singers and is considered today to be a major icon in the Arab world. Listening to her is my gateway to middle eastern music especially arabic pop in the 60's and 70's. One of my favorite things about her is the way she performed, according to her Wikipedia page she would be known to take a rigid, cold stance while performing. She claimed that the nature of her performances is because she is singing as if she were praying. a user on Pinterest called her the middle eastern lana del rey and i will never recover. anyways, select your pile and I will have a song by the queen for you to listen to.

PILE ONE-

cards: king of cups, queen of wands, 6 of cups, mars in pisces

song: Fayek Ya Hawa

you're a captivating, magnetic person. You have a way of capturing your passion with a almost childlike wonder, you remind people of what it's like to be a kid again and to just love something from the bottom of your heart. You have an ability to channel complex emotions from such a poetic perspective, you have this ability to channel your inner child when it comes to what you're passionate about. you possess a borderline psychic ability to portray emotions especially though creativity, you communicate things in such a way that it just resonates with so many people.

with the mars in Pisces card, this tells me that you are someone dedicated to understanding, empathizing and connecting with people. you have an unlimited range of creativity and a very developed imagination. you have such a way of wanting to help people feel understood, you're strongly motivated to act based on how you feel and as well as how other people feel. this motivation may even be self sacrificing at times. people love that you have a boundless sense of empathy. you dont withhold sympathy for anyone, you have the capability to connect with people regardless of who they are or how far they are from you.

PILE TWO

your cards- mars in leo, the emperor, two of swords

song: Sayyef ya sayf

you carry of confidence that demands power. You make decisions with certainty that regardless of what you do, you will always end up exactly where you need to be. People love that you're not the type to listen to other people, you drown out the voices of people trying to distract you and challenge the inner strength you have.

You have the tendency to take over and lead, and even if you arent aware of it, you influence people around you. the influence you have over the people in your life cannot be understated. you thrive when you are able to direct others. in fact you presence and personality type may be ''overbearing'' for some people, you're just not the type to shy away from expressing yourself and taking the lead. to some that may be perceived as confrontational and overpowering but many people actually love that you weren't born to be a follower.

people like you just know how to get things done. you excel at everything you do and take pride in your work. people love your ''ego'' and confidence. you're not afraid to overshine people. besides, its not your fault that people dim their own light.

PILE THREE

your cards: mars in taurus, page of cups and justice

song: Saalouny el nas

first of all, this pile has a clear foundation of right and wrong and you're willing to stand on that no matter what. people love that you're almost stubborn about what you believe. you're willing to go and fight for it and defend yourself against anyone.

but at the same time, this pile is very emotional and sensitive. your morals come straight from your heart. You're raw and vulnerable and you're willing to protect your heart more than anything else in this world. Sensitivity is seen as a weakness, but for you its your number one strength. its the quality that makes you willing to fend for yourself and other people. I knew someone like this in real life- upon first meeting her you might assume she was intimidating, scary, and even mean. but i watched this girl be brought to tears at the sound of a baby crying, I watched her fight against people who were stealing, I watched her loose her temper over anything that she felt disrespected her and her friends. By no means was she considered weak; she was vulnerable about what upset her, she was vulnerable about her mental health issues, and that made her strong and intimidating to people. it made me respect her more than anyone in my life. if you fucked with her, you were the one who ended up suffering. that's who this pile reminds me of.

I also feel that this pile is strongly motivated by their taste in fashion and luxury, people love your taste and its one of the things they remember about you.

[fablefrogg]

Why Having Will Byers Standing Up for El From Her Bullies Doesn't Make Sense (From a Character/Narrative Standpoint)

First off, I truly think that if Will had stood up for her, he would have also been targeted and bullied. Look at what happened when the teacher jumped in to help El. That didn't solve anything; it only made the bullies more infuriated to the point that they came up with an elaborate plan to humiliate El at a public place (and with a lot of people that went along with this plan like the DJ).

I'm not saying that standing up to your bullies is ultimately pointless and that you should keep your head down in the hopes of them stopping because they very likely won't.

But we have to take into account Will's character. He has dealt with bullying for most of his life (and for his sexuality which could end in the very real possibility of him being hate-crimed since this was the 80s). On top of that, he has trauma from having to survive in the Upside Down and from being possessed one of its creatures, resulting in him indirectly killing the military soldiers in S2 when he is used as a spy. It's understandable why he wants to keep his head down.

El also seems to be in denial about the situation, considering that she lied to Mike about Angela being her friend, denied Will's claims when he points this out, and then tells Angela (even after the milkshake debacle) to tell Mike that they're actually friends.

Will isn't a fighter like Mike. He helps El in his own way by consoling her even though she pushes him away, knowing that she needs verbal reassurance (a possible parallel to El needing Mike to verbally say that he loves her), and offers to help her put her project back together. We must also remember that the one time he tried standing up for himself was to the Mind Flayer in S2 and he ended up getting possessed (while it was inevitable, it shows that standing up for oneself = negative results in Will's mind).

I don't personally believe that by not standing up for her, he has some hidden resentment against El because she's with the person he loves. Will has been on El's side the whole time; he just does it subtly. He lies to the police that what El did was an accident, he paces back and forth while ranting to Mike that Hawkins wouldn't be standing without her, forcefully tells the receptionist at the juvenile center that they're her family ergo let them see her, and even gets noticeably angry at Mike, the person he's in love with, for his distasteful comment at El at the dinner table.

I acknowledge that it would be super interesting to see a darker side to Will, but I don't think this is it. In S2, when he encounters the baby Demogorgon in the bathroom, he has good reason to kill it considering his trauma from the Upside Down. Instead, he reassures the Demogorgon, saying that he won't hurt it. If Will can offer empathy to a literal monster that comes from a source of trauma, there is no way in hell that he would hurt El, even if he did harbor feelings of resentment.

From a narrative standpoint, I'd say El being bullied is necessary to her arc and that Will stepping in would reduce the impact of that arc and her development. Her being bullied is a trigger event to her physical assault on Angela, confronting her with the one of the conflicts she's been internally fighting: she believes that she's a monster even without her abilities. It also serves as a catalyst and a parallel when she remembers the similar bullying she's experienced in the lab. Because Will didn't interfere, it makes El's development from coming out the other side the more powerful.

Additionally, Will supporting El in other ways other than standing up to the main source of her bullying makes sense with his own arc. Since the Duffers have said he will be vital in S5, that tells me that he needs to learn to stand up to fight, especially when they're faced against the Big Bad. He has to learn to stop hiding (even though that's what he does best) and learn to stand up not just for other people, but for himself, and once he accomplishes this, he'll come out confident and wiser.

[profoundjellyfishnight]

my biggest stranger things pet peeve are people who like nuanced characters with progression and development and will say that and in the same breath say that mike is so infuriating and that wills compliments were undeserved and that his entire role is to be els boyfriend. basically, people who try to be analytical and still look at things at surface level. Not even surface level, more like a blurred Google maps image. Like you'll glaze Steves character development bc its so in your face but god forbid they try something more lowkey.

stranger things is an ensemble show and there are arguably three main tiers of characters.

Tier 1: EL, the main character

Tier 2: Mike, Hopper and Nancy, the leaders of each age group introduced in the very first season

Tier 3: everyone else in the intro

That's based off of pure screen time and also the age groupings. Hopper taking charge finding will after the whole thing with the body and Joyce, Nancy avenging barbs death and Mike leading the party trying to also find will.

Mike is quite literally the leader. From the very first episode and all the way to California. He's the everyman and the one who plans out everything. The sauna test, the pen, will being the spy, getting Suzie to hack it was all mike.

He and El only started dating at the end of season 2. And they weren't even together most of the last two seasons. We have like eight actual episodes of them dating. (The Gate, Suzie Do You Copy, Mall Rats, Battle of Starcourt, The Hellfire Club, Vecna's Curse, Papa and the Piggyback.) Outside of the first two episodes of season two, his arc doesn't revolve around El in season two, it's about will and him being possessed. Romance is always a subplot and it's no different with his character.

His arc in season one is all about finding his best friend, season two is about recovering from his trauma, season three is about his attachment issues and season four his self esteem issues. Self esteem issues which were developed since the first season that were sprinkled throughout the show.

Mike himself doesn't understand his importance in the group but the first person max wanted to go to was mike because he's the one who knows what to do. He's the one that always takes charge. The Hawkins groups development revolved around what they were supposed to do when their leader was gone. Nancy taking charge in the main group, which is something that's never happened. (She was in charge when it was only her and Jonathan and when she was in the main group, mike was still planning stuff)

I literally spent half of my lunch period writing some random essay about mike, if they ruin his character next season it's over for me. Whatever. They told me season three ruined mike and it literally made me like him more and the same happened with season four.

Mike 🔝

[glisten-inthedark]

This is a Rant, continue at your own risk

Look, I'm not even going to lie I've read a bunch of things from a Mil*even blog that has both like seriously peeved, so if you don't want to be hit with a bunch of thoughts just scroll by and be on your marry way because now I'm going to speak my mind. Excuse moi.

Will Byers is one of the most annoying, unimportant characters of the show.

Ok, ok. Cool, cool, cool. I'm guessing I watched another first episode then. I guess the pilot of the show was actually called "The Boy on The Woods" or "The Vanishing" or whatever other thing that wasn't actually "The Vanishing of Will Byers". Ok, my bad. Mistakes can happen.

But if that's the case then I'm pretty sure I watched the whole wrong season, the one in which, you know, they spent 8 episodes aka one week focusing on trying to find this very unimportant child. And I'm guessing it was the magical wind that opened the shed door too, got it.

And if asked, I also want to state for the record that you know, Harry Potter is also unimportant and not the boy who lived, and that Luke Skywalker is equally unimportant and not the one that the prophecy spoke off.

The whole story starts with the disappearance of Will Byers, and it progresses as he is possessed by the Mind Flayer and then starts to feel it and Vecna by the end of season 4.

And him being able to feel the Mind Flayer and Vecna. Does that sound oddly familiar? Yeah, if you're thinking Harry + Voldemort I'm sure you can see where I'm going with it. But in this case, Vecna, unlike Voldemort, (and oh, both lack noses and have names that start with V's) doesn't appear to want to kill Will (that we know for now) so maybe there's a fucking reason?

Now that we got the first part covered, let's talk about how he's supposedly annoying.

Will Byers is the most caring, selfless character of the show. He had his hopes, his dreams, torn apart when he got taken.

When he came back, all he wanted was to believe that he could have a part of his childhood back. That's it.

All Will has ever wanted was for Mike to be in his life.

All he ever wanted was to be Mike's best friend. Will doesn't expect Mike to love him back, he stopped believing that would happen long time ago.

To say he is annoying when he has constantly forgiven Mike over and over again is just petty.

Vecna is more afraid of Eleven

Well, obviously. But that's because I don't think the purpose Will serves is to stop Vecna, when he was talking about the Mind Flayer he explicity states that it wants to kill everyone else. (The except him is very much implied, though). So why is that?

Mike and El's relationship doesn't have issues

You know what I find it interesting? Is that this is so clearly not true that I can't understand what they mean.

Ok, let's forget about the whole "not spend time with his friends" bit. We know how relationships can be, especially when they're young, so ok I can understand that.

What I can't understand is how they can think it's normal for Mike and El to continuously lie to each other. And the lies aren't small, they are big lies.

El lies about every single aspect of her life in Lenora, she goes as far as to beg for her bully to help her because she doesn't want to break the facade.

Mike makes El feel like she's a monster. Like he's scared of her. She tells him how he says doesn't say he loves her and his first response isn't to say: What you're talking about?

Its to say: I say it and we are provided with the information that he can't even write it. Almost like what he says doesn't align with we know to be fact. He then goes on to say that she's being ridiculous, and that she knows what he thinks (notice the lack of the world feels) about her. Mike, she isn't questioning the idea you have of her, she's questioning your love for her when she shouldn't have.

If she doesn't feel secure enough in that love, there might be a reason right? But what do I know?

Will needs to learn to accept himself and needs to understand Mike loves Eleven and that's his arc.

Ok, let's say this is true.

Let's claim, for the sake of argument, that this is the point and recap from there.

Mike and Eleven didn't actually have a conversation by the end of the season, their main issue, which even is how Mike feels or doesn't feel but that they don't understand each other, has yet to be resolved.

Saying I love you didn't help El win, and there are lies in what he says to her as well. He claims that he knew from the moment he met her that he loved her, but if that's the case then his actions directly contradict the claim.

If he knew he loved her then, why would he try to send her away to a mental institution? Why would he be so rude towards her?

I could write this off as him not knowing he loved her, but he says that knew that he did so I'm guessing I'm slightly confused? Which one is it?

If he told Eleven that he feel in love with ler little by little, that he's learned all the things there is to love about her I could buy it, but with the way it was worded it doesn't seem to be the case.

It appears to me that people are under the impression that Will believes that one day Mike could love him back. He may have believed that during season 2, but by the time season 3 and 4 came, this stopped being the case.

Will was ready to sacrifice everything, even his art, for Mike. He's not living under the illusion he'd ever have a happy ending, he doesn't seem to think he'll ever find love, not like what he has with Mike.

So, what is the song and dance all about? If this is the case already, we are already at this point, all they needed to do was get Mike to tell Will.

"Look, El doesn't know shit about DnD so I know you weren't talking about her. Were those words yours? Yeah. Ok, Will... You're very important to me, but I love El. I accept you, and you'll always be my friend, but I can't love you like that". That's it. Would it hurt? Yes. But again, Will already thinks this is what he's going to hear anyway.

Byler bating vs Queerbating

I made this joke before but at this point I don't even think it's a joke, more of an statement.

I'd call queerbaiting if they hadn't established Will as queer, but the fact that they did is what gives me pause. Look children, I've been down this road before ok. Been there, done that.

They have established Will as queer and at no point did it feel like they were making him the punchline of a cruel joke.

Say that Mike doesn't feel the same and Will needs to let him go. Again. WE ALREADY THINK THIS IS THE CASE. Most of Bylers believed that to be fact in 2022. People were angry, upset and all that jazz.

Sure, Will learning self acceptance is important, but clinging onto that and forgetting his romantic arc would be nothing short of cruel. Will doesn't want some random guy. He said it so himself. Mike is the only person that has ever made him feel good about himself, Mike is the only person he'll always need. This isn't some passing crush.

Its the choice of making Will so in love with Mike that legit has me questioning these writers if the whole point was to get El and Mike back together.

I just have more to say but I need sleep. I might come back to this tomorrow. You are all welcomed to share your thoughts on my points and disagree if that's the case.

I love hearing other people's opinions on things

[suppose-i-was-worm]

Dragon Landing pt 2

Kon watched in fear as the dragon touched down in the wide plaza, Lex smiling smugly as the great beast landed.

“Great Dragon, welcome to Metropolis.”

The dragon nodded slowly, swinging it’s head around to see the gathered crowd.

“If you are looking for your assistant, I regret to inform you that he has committed a most horrible sin against you, sir.”

The dragon tilted its head, and the crowd parted. Kon tried to dart forward to catch Danny as he was thrown to the ground, securely tied in ropes, but his guards grabbed his arms and held him tight.

“What has he done?”

The dragon’s first words rumbled across the plaza, and Kon shivered at the underlying anger to it’s voice.

Lex made a grand gesture.

“He dared to seduce your intended spouse, my nephew Kon-el. Do not worry, though, we caught them before anything untoward could happen.”

A strange chuffing noise came from the dragon, and it lowered it’s head to look at Danny, still lying on the ground.

“Do you know what you have done, son of Clockwork?”

Much to Kon’s horror, Danny grinned brightly.

“I understand what I’ve been accused of, sure.”

“You have betrayed me in this, Daniel Clockwork.”

“IT WASN’T HIS FAULT,” Kon yelled, struggling against the guards. “Please- punish me, if you must- Danny didn’t start anything!”

The dragon side eyed Kon, and then turned it’s attention back to Danny.

“Rise, Daniel, and accept your punishment.”

“Oh? I thought you liked the sight of me tied up.”

To the shock of the entire plaza, Danny rose to his feet, slipping through the ropes like they were air. He stood in front of the dragon’s great head, smiling serenely.

The dragon brought it’s nose down close to Danny, and a wisp of flame spouted from it’s nostrils.

Kon screamed as the flame wrapped around the man he’d fallen in love with- he could never care for the dragon after this, even if he had to marry the great beast.

And then the flames subsided, and there Danny was, still standing. He was different, though- the purple bruise on his cheek from Lex’s guards was gone, and he wasn’t hunched over his right side, favoring a broken rib.

When he’d arrived in Metropolis Keep, and every day since, his garb had been nice but unremarkable. Now, having been consumed by flames, his clothing was of the finest silks, with delicate embroidery and gems creating the night sky on his dark robes.

Most shocking at all was the pointed ears of a faerie and his hair- an ethereal shock of white were before it had been blacker than shadow.

“It has been too long, my loyal servant” the dragon rumbled.

“A month without you is akin to a year without stars, my lord.”

Kon took advantage of the guards shock to rush forward, pushing past his uncle to reach Danny. Danny, who turned to him with a brilliant grin.

“Prince Kon-el! Meet my lord, the dragon.”

Remembering some decorum in the face of his worry, Kon bowed to the dragon, who regarded him with one great yellow eye.

“A pleasure to meet you, Lord Dragon.”

The dragon chuffed again, turning back to Danny.

“He is pretty, I’ll give you that. Will you stand with us, Prince Kon-el?”

Kon looked to Danny, who was nodding furiously at him.

“If that is your wish?”

“I care more for your wishes, but I will accept that answer.”

The dragon’s tail looped around them both, and Kon watched as Danny gave it a pat.

“King Luthor.” There was danger in the dragon’s voice. “You made a deal with me- a spouse in exchange for power.”

“Yes, Lord Dragon, if you-“

“I did not give you permission to speak.”

A sick sort of glee filled Kon as Lex shut up with a snap.

“I would have complied with your request, had I not spent the last month learning of your misdeeds. I might have even been lenient, more than just allowing you your life, but it seems you missed a very important fact about dragons.”

The tail surrounding Kon and Danny tightened possessively.

“Dragons are known to have multiple spouses- hoarding them more fiercely than gold and treating them better than the finest of gems. Until today I was possessed of only a single spouse, and you- usurper, kidnapper, false king- you allowed him to come to harm.”

Kon looked sharply over at Danny, but the faerie was smiling vindictively, stroking the dragon’s scales with delicate fingers that were dripping with silver and diamond jewelry.

“Did you know,” the dragon continued, “that the man whose throne you took- who was left for dead by your traitorous followers- recovered well? King Kent is returning to Metropolis to take back his throne, along with his wife and son.”

Something roiled in Kon’s stomach- the knowledge that his father had another son with a legal wife- as opposed to himself, a child born out of wedlock to Lex’s sister through coercion- made him feel ill.

“He has agreed that Kon-el may come with me until Metropolis is safe. After that, it is up to the prince as to where he will go.”

The dragon reached out one massive claw, touching Lex on the chest.

“I curse you, Luthor- I curse you for laying a hand on my beloved, for usurping a throne that is not rightfully yours. I curse you for casting out a friend of my father and leaving him for dead. I curse you for stealing a child from his father and depriving him of that relationship, and I curse you for attempting to use that child as a bargaining chip for power. Lex Luthor, you will never hold a position of power again. Only the dogs will believe the words you speak from here on out. So mote it be.”

Kon watched as Lex started to protest, but all that came out was the howling of a street dog.

The surrounding crowd began to snicker, and then to laugh.

They stopped as the dragon continued speaking, this time to the guards who had thrown Danny to the ground.

“Personally, I do not think those who laid hands on my husband should be allowed to live, and yet I am well aware what he thinks of wanton bloodshed. His people, however, may not be so kind. I would suggest stocking up on cold iron.”

Danny tugged at Kon’s hand, and he let himself be pulled up and onto the dragon’s tail, and then up further still to rest on the beasts broad back. Part of him thought that he ought to have struggled to climb up, but the rest of him was dealing with relief from the stress of the past day.

The man he loved was safe and sound, his father was well and returning, and Lex could no longer bring the kingdom to evil.

The dragon spread his wings, and with two hefty flaps, they were off the ground and in the air.

Kon scrabbled to grab a hold of something with the hand not held securely in Danny’s but there was no purchase on the smooth scales underneath him.

“Peace, Kon-el,” the dragon rumbled beneath them. “I will not let you fall.”

A tugging on his hand again prompted Kon to turn to Danny, who was smiling at him gently.

“Do you want to continue what we started?”

There was a twinkle in his eye, and Kon flushed hot, remembering their almost-kiss while they practiced dancing.

“H-here?”

Danny shrugged playfully.

“Why not? My lord doesn’t mind.”

“I- no, I don’t think I am comfortable with that.”

With a nod, Danny brought Kon’s hand up to his lips, brushing across the back feather light.

“Your comfort is my utmost priority, my prince.”

The dragon rumbled underneath them, and Kon almost thought it was agreement.

[gyrovagi]

"Do you think," Eloy asks, his smooth, even voice a shock in the stillness of the night air, "that I'm like Loghain?"

Zevran can only blink, at first, having already prepared himself to fall asleep in anticipation of an early departure tomorrow morning. He wasn't sure what to expect when Eloy swept back into camp, quiet but possessed by a strange, frantic energy. Wynne was hardly forthcoming about the events of their scouting expedition to Ostagar, save that they'd seen and done what they had to, and approaching Loghain with questions about his return to the site of his great betrayal seemed unwise. He'd decided to watch Eloy clean the darkspawn blood off his armor, instead, and wait for him to speak when he felt ready.

This question, Zevran never saw coming. He props himself up on his elbows, tilting his head. "I... am not sure what you want me to say."

"I want you to be honest with me." In the low light of their shared tent, Zevran can only just make out El's silhouette, sitting hunched over herself. She's looking at Zevran, to be sure, but her face is void, any hint of an expression blotted out by an ink spill. "I don't know if anyone else will be."

It is no small request. Zevran sits up properly and allows himself a moment to consider its weight. "I imagine you don't want me to begin with the obvious dissimilarities between you. You were mortal enemies until very recently, after all."

El snorts. Not past humor, then. "You know what I mean. I think that, after actually speaking with him, I—understand him. Why he did what he did."

"Yes, you do that. Try to understand how other people think. It's a rather admirable trait of yours. Along with your willingness to spare those who try to kill you," Zevran adds meaningfully.

"I would never have put you through the Joining," Eloy says with surprising conviction. "There's a reason that it's an alternative to execution. I can't say that I didn't hope he would die."

"If that was truly your wish, you could have simply lopped his head off on the palace floor. I am sure no one at the Landsmeet would have protested much. They may have even called you a hero for it. That is what Loghain would have done, I'm sure."

This does not appear to have the reassuring effect Zevran intended; El curls in on himself further, hugging his knees to his chest. He says nothing for a long moment.

Then: "You should have heard him and Wynne, at Ostagar. Whenever we could catch our breath between the darkspawn, she was trying to get a rise out of him." El scoffs. "He refused to even act apologetic."

There is something approaching admiration in her voice, beneath the scorn. And—yes, in this Zevran supposes Eloy is much the same. His Warden holds within him a cold, clear ruthlessness, a cutting edge tempered by a mind that refuses self-doubt and the indulgence of regret. Zevran admires this, as well.

He does not know what El wants him to say. He is unsure of how to be honest.

"If I had been in his place," Eloy says, "on that battlefield, I think I would have done the same."

"I was not there myself, but from what I have heard, it sounded quite hopeless. No matter what they may say, I think many would choose to save themselves, myself included."

"Does that make those who would have charged anyway fools or heroes?"

"I suppose that depends on whether they won."

El laughs softly. "And King Cailan?"

"Well." Zevran can only shrug. "I was not there; I never met him. What would you call him?"

"A fool," Eloy says without hesitation. "If he had any sense, he would never have been on that battlefield in the first place, to be strung up by the darkspawn like a trophy."

Zevran's mouth goes dry. "I did not know you stumbled across the young king's remains."

"Stumbled is one way to put it." El brings her hand up to her face. In the following silence, Zevran realizes she must be biting her nails. A nervous habit for years, Eloy has told him with some irritation, that he's never been able to kick. "They do look alike. Cailan and Alistair." Eloy pauses, corrects himself. "Did. It seems obvious in hindsight."

With that, something finally clicks into place. Zevran feels quite stupid, which does not help him think of something to say.

He'd been surprised, when he was making the first careful steps into integrating with their eclectic party, to learn that Alistair and Eloy had known each other for less than a month before his attempt on their lives. Though an odd pair from any perspective, they conducted themselves like old friends and comrades-in-arms, even siblings, Alistair falling into step behind Eloy's confident leadership so naturally it seemed a lifelong habit.

Without Alistair behind his back, an ever reliable presence, Eloy has seemed—smaller. She is too self-possessed by far to reach for an absence, to forget that calling a familiar name will get no answer, but Zevran is sure this has only been achieved through excruciating effort. He can only imagine how Alistair has fared, alone in an unfamiliar palace with the widow of the half-brother he never knew.

Zevran cannot say that Eloy made the wrong decision. That does not mean Alistair will ever forgive him.

"Thanks to you," he says, at length, "Alistair may make a better king than his brother yet."

"Zevran," Eloy says miserably. For a terrifying heartbeat Zevran thinks she may cry, a sight so unimaginable that he's glad for the darkness to hide it. When El falls forward to press her face into his shoulder, though, her eyes are dry.

Somehow, this is worse. It is not quite an embrace, their positions too awkward, El's arms limp at his sides even as Zevran opens his to hold him. Eloy makes a noise Zevran's never heard from him before, something too starved of air to call a sob or a laugh. "Zevran, I don't know if he will."

[ekza-art]

Why is Mike so dumb? (Not really)

The layered internal conflicts of the characters in Stranger Things are truly admirable. And the fact that people refuse to see that behind the words of the characters may be hiding something completely different from what they mean, only confirms this: people love to deceive, and first of all themselves.

"Friends don't lie" has become more than just the Party's naïve motto as they've grown older, it's become the keynote that, after coming full circle, like so much else on the show, it's back to full circle by Season 5. The Duffer brothers have made the lines of the show's key characters incredibly deep and complex, and what's happening right now between El, Will and Mike is one of the most complex and truly horrifying tragedies of our entire existence.

It always seemed very strange to me how a large number of people cling to Mileven and do not see anything else around. At the same time, I do not feel hatred or rejection towards lovers of the Mike / Eleven couple. But let's be objective: how many couples do you know who have stayed with each other for life, becoming each other's first? I'm not talking about the couples from the series that ended up getting this far, let's talk about reality. Children's first love is something truly pure, tender, almost holy. I was also in love with my 11-12 years old, and when now, at 31, I remember this, I remember only warmth and bright feelings. I remember this boy's name, but I don't even remember his face.

At the same time, the Duffer brothers in an interview frankly told us several key things: they do not believe in love at first sight, they do not consider the relationship between Mike and Eleven to be something serious, they describe this relationship as “Mike found a puppy in the forest and wanted to take care of him". Plus, and I think it's a big deal, when Eleven was first seen, Party had her hair cut so short that other people thought she was a boy -- at 11 years old, boys and girls aren't that different yet. At the same time, I always liked the ease and acceptance with which Mike spoke about El in any of its forms: he really didn't care if she looked like a girl or a boy, he finds her "pretty" in any form. And I think this is also important.

I was a fan of Mileven myself until the end of Season 2. I cried and was touched by the way Mike and El kissed at the Snow Ball. But during Season 3, I began to understand that something was clearly wrong going on between them. And Mike is really starting to act weird. At this time, they are 14 years old, more conscious sexuality begins to wake up. Hormones are raging and all that stuff. And at these moments, I begin to notice in Mike that he is not really want to take next base in relationships with El. Don't you remember yourself at 14? I remember myself very clear. We hung out in groups, and when the boys paid attention to us, we wanted to be as tactile with them as possible. But Mike is limited to very modest hand touches. This is his maximum, while El hugs him, reaches for him, while kissing wants to touch his face and hair. This is weird. I do not take into account Mike's lies in all of this, but for some reason one very important thing comes to my mind: at 11 years old, Mike did not listen to Hopper and went to look for Will with the Party on his own, at 12 years old, Mike, angry, attacked Hopper with his fists. And then suddenly he was horrified by Hopper when he scared Mike a little? Last year a boy literally saw a possessed friend and dead people, for God sake! At the same time, the boy probably understood that Jim would not do anything to him, would not harm him at all. So why did he start to avoid El and come up with all sorts of nonsense? Was he just looking for a reason? And the words of Jim to Joyce are also important: "they kiss all the time." That is, apart from kisses, a couple of Mike and El are not interested in anything else and do not have a connect without any "End of the World" danger? That's really sad.

"Mike tries to be normal as hard as he can" is practically a Finn's quote from Season 4. And in general, the way Finn refers to his character as an "idiot" in other interviews shows us that he understands what's going on with Mike, and it pisses him off. If this isn't a sexual identity crisis, then what could be tormenting Mike so much? I remember my identity crisis, which I lived at the age of 15-18. It almost took me to a psychiatrist and a surgeon because I couldn't figure out why I liked both boys and girls and why I sometimes felt like a guy. It was scary. I lived in Russia in the 2000s and it was very similar to the 1980s in America, trust me. The clash of conservatism and liberalism regarding sexual minorities and their representation on TV was simply crazy. I had no where to get information about what was happening to me. And as I look at Mike's tossing, I remember that I also tried my best to be "normal." I had my first sex at 20, with my close many-years friend, because it was too scary for me. And at the same time I suffered very deeply inside and thought that I was going crazy. Of course, Mike begins to lie to himself and believe his lies in order to stay sane. He really believes what he says at the end of Season 4. But his monologue is the bizarre mixture of lies and half-truths that he is now capable of.

I sincerely believe that Mike loves El. However, he is completely honest when he says that he "cares about her", calls her a "superhero" and cannot say "I love you" when El expects these words from him as her boyfriend. He loves her, but not in the way that El loves him -- not in a romantic way. Mike's monologue at the end of Season 4 is kind of a compromise. He reconciled his two opposing sides inside and brought them to what we have in the final. But while it's true that he might like guys too, he's not ready to dive just yet.

And at the same time, I really like the way El reacts to all of this. I want to ask the Mileven fans why, after the long-awaited “I love you”, El barely talks to Mike and feels lonely? She had been waiting for these words for so long, heard them -- but is she unhappy? Doesn't this seem strange? I would love to hear an explanation of this situation, because if it's not that El sensed the lie in Mike's words (and that he was lying to himself first of all), then I don't understand what is happening. I think El is amazing and she deserves the truth. And a relationship with a guy who is confused in himself is not what she deserves.

I'm truly sorry for Mike. I understand his conflict, I understand his suffering. He really is terribly confused. And I love how the Duffer brothers showed us that from the very beginning of the series. While everyone was wondering if Will was gay (although in the very first developments for the series, the phrase "has difficulties with sexual identity" was literally on the second line of Will's description, that is, it is a key to his personality), they dragged through the growing up Mike's internal conflict, giving us such microscopic clues that it was very easy to miss.

The theme of growing up, changes in oneself and in the world, self-determination, presented by the Duffer brothers in Stranger Things is really brilliant. We are used to the fact that there are shows for children and there are shows for teenagers, and these are completely different age categories and they raise completely different topics. And because of this, the very transition between these categories seems to turn into a perennial abyss. Although in fact the border is very thin, and it is this border that is the most conflicting of the moments of life. We are used to the fact that 15-16 year old teenagers are played by 20+ year old actors, this does not seem strange. And I don’t know how about you, but I still have very strange feelings from the fact that in Season 1 we see 11-13 year old actors who play 12-year-old characters with their childish games, and in 4 season they are already 18-20 years old, their characters have become full-fledged teenagers of 15-16 years old, and they really grew up. But, unlike other shows where we get to know teenage characters already at their 15-16, here we grew up with them. We live together with these complex conflicts of adolescence. And yes, that's why we often feel uncomfortable about it. We want certainty, we want to see that the characters have clear answers to everything, but come on guys! Let's be honest with each other.

[ga-yuu]

So yeah! The final route is out and I'm done!

Not with the game ofc, but we're done with the main stories of all male leads! yayy!!! *clap clap clap*

Also this review won't be containing any spoilers because I'm going to translate Sueharu's route.

How do I feel about Sueharu's route?

Honestly, its one of the most entertaining routes! There is so much fun from start to finish. The rebel gang and the shogunate gang are nothing but a bunch of man children so it is filled with brainless ridiculous humor everywhere, which I really love.

Having a bunch of comic relief scenes everywhere is good at lightening the mood when the route is dealing with heavy subjects like child abuse and stuff.

So I had a fun ride!

How was the story?

There are many funny moments, romantic moments and serious moments as well. Everything is very well mixed in so that you won't get tired when playing the route.

It's not like El's route where there is 2 or 3 funny moments and the rest are all filled with sadness which makes you feel tired when reading it.

In Sueharu route, there will be a very serious scene going on. For example, the world is ending, children are getting possessed by demons, both the rebel and shogunate armies are falling apart and then we have Kurama who is like 'Tamamo fight me!'

How is Yoshino?

Yoshino is same as ever. She's very cute and angelic. I love her so much!

Her presence and her chemistry with Sueharu is one of the best things in this route. I really love her bad girl persona in one particular scene but I also love her innocent persona overall.

No matter how much I say that I love her, it is still not enough!! She's my queen!!

How is Sueharu?

This one was unexpected. I never thought Sueharu would be such a tough nut to crack. In his whole route, he is shielding his heart from being revealed to anyone. Whenever one of his friends gets close to him, he pushes them away immediately! Even Yoshino!

But somewhere around chap 19 he reveals his past but he is still not ready to accept Yoshino. You'll know that once I start translating. But after he's in love...OMG! He becomes super jealous, possessive and needy! He himself is shocked and embarrassed to find that he is this pathetic. Yoshino is so scary man! She makes all the male leads love sick to the point of insanity!

What about Benkei?

As you can see, Benkei is the love rival. Sueharu trusts Benkei a lot. He does care and trust the other rebel members as well, but if he had to choose one of them to look after something precious to him (for example, Yoshino) it would be Benkei without a doubt. I can understand that because Benkei is overall the most kindest male lead out of all. This kind heart is what made Sueharu trust Benkei more than anyone else in the world. I do really love their friendship, maybe even a bit more than Morinaga and Sueharu.

Final thoughts!

This route is great. One of the well-written routes if I have to say. So if you wanna play it then go play it or wait for my translations....which will start very soon.

[monsta-x-jagi]

Crown and Chrome - Chapter 3

Synopsis: In the past, Kihyun makes you his. In the present, he sees someone else try to do the same

Word count: 4.7k

Triggers: none

Author’s note: I am sorry Jongho is the villain

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

The Past

You didn’t try to rile Kihyun up any further for the rest of the night, and as promised, he took you back to the warehouse at the end of the race. You still clung to him as you both rode, but your grip was looser, and you’d occasionally lift yourself off his back to look around. When he stopped his motorcycle outside the warehouse, Kihyun began taking off his helmet, and you took that time to trace the patches on his riding jacket, which included the same patch on your jacket. 

“Kihyun, what does it mean to be a Kikibebe?” You asked as your fingers kept circling the same patch.

Kihyun got off the motorcycle and offered you a hand to help you off. “It means Kiki’s baby, or Kiki’s darling. It’s my fan club.” 

“I see. You know, someone came and asked me if I am a Kikibebe because of your jacket, ” you said as you as you waited for Kihyun to help unbuckle your helmet as well. 

“And what did you tell them?” Kihyun asked, an intrigued smirk on his face as he removed your helmet for you. 

You scoffed. “Don’t look so smug, I said yes so they wouldn’t question why I was wearing your jacket.” 

You walked ahead of Kihyun as he moved to open the warehouse.

“Even if you said that, they were all still questioning it, weren’t they?” Kihyun replied.

You folded your arms and watched as he pushed open the warehouse. “You tell me. Is it normal for the entire audience to stare at me?” 

Kihyun walked inside the warehouse first, and took a seat on the couch. “I suppose it was something to be expected. You did turn up wearing my jacket, after all.” 

“Yeah but I look like any other fan. Are you sure they weren’t staring because you chose to interact with me?” You asked as you sat beside him on the couch.

Kihyun shrugged as he turned to face you. “That’s also one reason. But its more the first reason.”

“Because I wore your jacket?” You raised your eyebrows at him. “Are Kikibebe’s that rare?”

Kihyun shook his head, smiling like he knew a secret. “No, its because you wore my jacket.” 

You narrowed your eyes at him. “What are you talking about? It’s just a jacket with a patch right?”

“Yes and no,” Kihyun replied. “To anyone who didn’t see you when we arrived together, you would look like a normal Kikibebe. But to everyone who saw us together, you are the literal definition of a Kikibebe. As in, you’re mine.” 

You scoffed. “I didn't realise that stereotype about bikers being possessive was true.” 

Kihyun bowed his head down slightly and replied, “Its one of the few stereotypes that are true, including for myself, as much as I don’t want to admit it.”

You nodded in understanding and asked, “So now the whole biking world thinks I am yours?” 

“Uh yeah, pretty much.” 

You took off Kihyun’s jacket and spread it out to trace the patch again. “So what happens if I wear someone else's patch next time? Like, I don’t know, Mingi’s?” you asked, looking at Kihyun through your lashes.

Kihyun didn’t miss the opportunity to tease you. “Then maybe I have to make you mine again. Can’t let Fix On get his hands on you.”

“Oh really?” You asked as you shifted closer to Kihyun on the couch. “How does a biker do that? How will you make me yours?”

Kihyun’s cheeks heated up slightly at your words. “Maybe you can find out next time you come to a race.” 

Your hand moved to his shoulder and you began tracing the stitching on Kihyun’s jacket. “But imagine the chaos if I come on your bike wearing Mingi’s patch. Or worse, his jacket?” 

Kihyun chuckled, even though his eyes were fixed on your fingers trailing down his arm. “Oh Mingi would love that. He thrives on attention.” 

You hummed. “I am sure he would. But what about you? What are you going to do when your Kikibebe is wearing somebody else’s patch?”

Your fingers had reached the end of his sleeve and were working their way back up his arm. Kihyun swallowed and glanced at his phone. “It’s getting late, y/n. I should take you home.” 

Your hand stopped at his shoulder and your adorable doe eyes looked at him. “Guess those are questions for next time then.” You smiled your signature soft smile and stood up from the couch, grabbed your things, and walked to the door of the warehouse. “Bye Kihyun.” 

Before you had even managed to push open the warehouse door, Kihyun scrambled after you. He had just realised how he would make you his.

The Present

Hyunwoo led Kihyun to the investment department and introduced him to the team. Then the two men walked around to the other departments for Kihyun’s self-introductions, before Hyunwoo ended the tour at the break room. But throughout it all, Kihyun’s brain was a on autopilot. Instead, all he could think about was you in that meeting room a few hours earlier. 

You were still just as headstrong and knowledgable as he remembered. You even dressed the same in diamond earrings and pretty pinks. Although… Kihyun didn’t know why it disheartened him, but you weren’t wearing the goodbye gift he bought for you all those years ago. 

Kihyun handed over the NPV question from today’s meeting to a group of investment analysts who included the department’s resident clean freak, gossip machine and hottie. And they all had an interesting story to tell Kihyun about you, the new CEO.

Seonghwa, the clean freak, explained that you had been on countless dates, but you never seemed to date the same man for more than a few months. Your reasons for ending things would include terrible cooking, not protecting you enough and finally bad sex. Seonghwa could understand all of those reasons except “not protective enough,” which is where Wooyoung, the gossip machine, stepped in. He heard you telling one of the secretaries that only one man has ever made you feel like all your worries don’t matter. You had said you didn't need physical protection from anything - which Kihyun struggled not to laugh at because he knew how little regard you had for safety when you were younger - but instead, you stressed you wanted emotional protection. The closest things you had found to emotional protection was in the form of San, the department hottie. After a particularly rough breakup, you went through a crazy exercise phase, which is how you met San in the office gym and became best buds. The most confusing aspect of this friendship however, was that San relied equally on you for emotional support, and you were absolutely immune to the charms of the office hottie.

“I will clarify that emotional comfort means y/n would console me back when I was a hopeless intern,” San said. 

“Maybe she didn’t want to date San back then coz he was a lost cause and she was the star of the legal department,” Wooyoung laughed.

“That’s around the same time y/n had her heart broken. Can't believe that in the time San worked his way up from intern to associate analyst, she still hasn’t recovered from whatever asshole she dated,” Seonghwa said.

The trio’s words took Kihyun back to a time he would rather forget: the second time he said goodbye to you, only he never gave you the chance to say it back to him. It didn’t take much thinking to know that the terrible breakup you went through was Kihyun. It was just after your first semester of university, when your mum sent you to MX to rotate through the departments and pick up some skills so that you could eventually take over the company. Kihyun knew you had been looking forward to that vacation, but he also knew it became a time you’d rather forget because of the project MX ended up handling back then.

It was eventually time for the afternoon meeting with the investment department. The ‘pirates,’ as this particular investment team was affectionately called, were already waiting and ready to present in the conference room when you arrived.

“Hey Sannie,” you chirped as you walked in. “Wooyoung, Seonghwa,” you nodded and smiled. Then with a deep breath, almost as if it pained you, you said, “Kihyun” and sat down. 

This interaction didn’t go unnoticed by San, and San’s concerned expression towards you caught Wooyoung’s attention. 

“Miss y/n, would you like to begin?” Seonghwa asked calmly, while eyeing his teammates with a silent order to behave. You nodded for him to continue.

The NPV calculation was positive. The DoD job would be profitable regardless of what type of contract your firm might be handed. So you instructed the pirate trio (and Kihyun) to begin checking the numbers for working capital and capital expenditure for any designs the architects would draw up in the coming days. The admin/marketing team should finish the application for the tender tomorrow morning.

“Then do you want the numbers by the end of the week?” Wooyoung asked.

“I expect them as soon as possible once the architects release a preliminary drawing. I also specifically want unlevered free cash flow so that the legal team could try adding some tax clauses,” you explained.

“Miss y/n, I can get started on the FCF tonight if you want,” Kihyun offered.

You could feel San's gaze on you as you answered. "Architecture probably won’t finish up for another day so you’ve still got time. I am actually more concerned with meeting your contact.” 

Kihyun smirked as he played with his pen. “You’ve met Im Changkyun before.” 

You sucked in a breath sharply. Yes, the name did ring a bell, although you hadn’t quite figured out from where, so you said, “I’m sure I met him back when I knew Jongho.” 

At this, San gasped. “Wait you’re gonna meet Jongho? Didn’t he almost crash your car?”

“Relax dude, I won’t be meeting him in a car, I’ll be safe,” you replied, well aware Kihyun’s curiosity had been piqued. 

And Kihyun’s curiosity would be satisfied when Wooyoung asked you, "What's the deal with this Jongho fella? If he nearly crashed your car, he’s an ex right?”

You pursed your lips and nodded. “He couldn’t understand why I knew so much about cars and engines and stuff. He insisted on driving this one time, and he refused to turn on manual when we were going down hills.” 

You didn't notice but Kihyun’s fist tightened around the pen he was fidgeting with. 

“Why do you know so much about cars?” Seonghwa asked. “Especially considering I've only seen you use a motorcycle before.” 

Kihyun’s head shot up to look at you. He didn't remember ever showing you how to ride a motorcycle. When did you end up learning?

You laughed as you responded to Seonghwa. “Our last CEO was a mechanical engineer remember? I picked up some things from her but…” you flicked your gaze to Kihyun before continuing, “somebody else taught me some things and they stuck.” 

“Are you going to feel safe meeting Jongho? Do you want me to come with you?” San asked.

Before you could answer, Kihyun spoke up. “Miss y/n is meeting Changkyun, not Jongho, and I am going with her. I’ll make sure she’s okay.” 

San looked at you, saw your equally shocked face, and decided not to say anything. 

Wooyoung grinned as he looked between you and Kihyun. This entire meeting, you had tried to pretend Kihyun didn’t exist, to the point that even though he sat across from you, your shoulders were twisted towards the ‘pirates.’ Meanwhile Kihyun never managed to meet your gaze and Wooyoung was ready to bet his entire fortune that Kihyun actually snapped the pen he was holding when Jongho’s little car crash was mentioned. The office was going to get interesting very quickly. 

Later that night, in the quiet of your house, that you lived in alone and ate catered food in, you pulled out the photo album that was hidden in the drawer you kept bed linen in. The album was full of photographs, mostly of you. Some photos were intimate, like the one of you covered by a simple blanket early in the morning, with a sleepy smile on your face as you reached out to the photographer. Some photos made you laugh, like the one where you held up orange tinted hands at the camera after trying to dye someone’s hair. Sometimes you weren’t even facing the camera, like one where you were lying on the couch pulling a face while you typed out your assignments.

But then the style of the photos changed from camera quality to selfies. Some were taken over home cooked dinners, many more were taken while sitting behind someone on a bike, and a few others included orange hair peeking out from somewhere behind you while you were lying down. 

Then at the very end of the book was a little envelope. Inside it was a pair of blue sapphire earrings that you wore all throughout first semester, until one day you couldn’t bear to wear them anymore.

The Past

“Don’t go alone,” Kihyun called as he ran after you. “I promised I would keep you safe, and that includes getting you home safely.” 

You gave him an amused smile. “I thought we agreed I don’t pay attention to my safety.”

“Yeah well we didn't agree whether I do the same,” Kihyun retorted. “And I don’t.” Kihyun reached over to grab one of the helmets hanging by the door and gave it to you. “Put this on and wait for me outside.” 

As caring as he was, his voice carried a finality to it that you didn't plan to argue with, so you waited as Kihyun brought his motorcycle out of the warehouse and locked up again. Then like before, you both got on. 

Kihyun let you get comfortable then said, “I’ll ride a little slower, and you can guide me to your house okay?”

It wasn’t a long drive, maybe 15 minutes. The roads were mostly empty at this time too. Kihyun was driving slow enough for you two to make conversation.

“Kihyun, do you live in the warehouse or somewhere else?” 

You could hear the smile in Kihyun’s voice. “I have an apartment elsewhere. I share it with Changkyun and Jooheon.” 

You squeezed his waist in acknowledgement, then asked, “So what’s the bed in the warehouse for? Mingi said…” 

“Never mind what Mingi said. And it’s a bed. You sleep on it,” Kihyun said somewhat gruffly.

You chuckled and rubbed your fingers against stomach. “Relax. It’s your space, do as you please.” 

“Y/n, I can't relax when you keep stroking my stomach like that,” Kihyun said. 

“What? This?” You asked as you trailed one hand down his side towards his thigh.

Noticing that you only had one arm wrapped around him, Kihyun revved his bike a little, enough to make you grip his waist tightly again so you wouldn't fall off.

“Not so confident now are we?” 

You made a small fist and hit his stomach to show your annoyance.

Kihyun laughed. “Don’t worry princess, I know how to ride, I won’t let anything happen to you.” 

This time, your mouth was close enough to his ear that he heard your sharp intake of breath, and he felt the way your arms squeezed him and pressed closer. 

“Princess? Does that do something to you?” Kihyun asked again.

You mumbled a no and tried to bury your face in his back.

Kihyun laughed. “Be honest, princess. I felt the way you squeezed me.” 

You whined and hit his stomach.

“Use your words, princess. Are you touching me like that because you want me to touch you?”

Kihyun felt your arms tighten around him again when you admitted, “Ok fine, maybe I like being called princess.” 

“Well I am glad we cleared that up.” 

It wasn't long before Kihyun stopped his bike in front of your family’s house. Like before, he got off first before helping you down. He placed his hands under your chin to get you to look at him while he loosened your helmet. 

“Y/n, there's one more thing I want to ask you.” His fingers finally unclasped the helmet buckle. “You’re not seeing anyone are you?” 

You shook your head. Kihyun lifted the helmet off you. 

“Well then, princess,” he said as if testing the word on his tongue, “will you go out with me? Will you let me call you my princess?”

The Present

It had been several days since Kihyun began work, and he still couldn’t get over the chaos of the early morning executive meeting. Today’s meeting had ended well before 9 and, Lee Minhyuk was browsing the Internet to help you pick an outfit to meet the naval officers later in the evening.

“Hey Kihyun, what’s your friend’s favourite colour?” Minhyuk called across the room to Kihyun who was reading some financial reports.

“Purple,” Kihyun replied without looking up. “Why?” 

“So y/n can look pretty for him,” Minhyuk giggled. 

Kihyun had never slammed a report down fast enough. You didn't even have to try to look pretty, you’d always been pretty. And why would you dress up for Changkyun of all people, especially when your ex might be joining too. Kihyun walked over to stand behind you and Minhyuk to look over your shoulders at the website.

Minhyuk clicked a purple top and you scrunched your face to say no. He found a purple blazer and skirt combo which you were ambivalent to. Then he found an off shoulder purple dress and you nodded aggressively. 

“Oh she likes it eh?” Minhyuk said looking up at Kihyun. 

“Don’t wear that one,” Kihyun said sharply, prompting you to turn around and look at him.

“Why not? It’s pretty,” you said, trying not to think about how Kihyun’s arm was bracing against your chair. If you leaned back, you’d rest your head against his torso.

“Wear something longer, you’ll get cold,” Kihyun said. 

“It falls to my knees though,” you muttered as Minhyuk kept scrolling. He stopped at a bright purple scarf.

“Y/n, why not this with regular businesswear,” Minhyuk said. Then turning to Kihyun, he added, “And she’ll be warm too.” 

Kihyun rolled his eyes at Minhyuk, but said, “Yeah that looks good, but wear it with your oversized black blazer,” He didn’t wait for you or Minhyuk to respond and walked to the door.

“Hey hold on, how do you know she even has that? I don’t think she’s worn a black blazer once this whole month,” Minhyuk called after him.

Kihyun turned around and smirked, his eyes boring into you. “Just something I remembered.”  

You were so screwed. The blazer? That was Kihyun’s blazer you once wore to the office. You’d slept over at his place one night and woken up late. You thought you couldn’t go to work in your denim mini skirt and black singlet, until you looked in Kihyun’s closet and found the blazer. It was quite a surprise a biker like him owned something like that, but you weren’t complaining. You put it on and practically ran to your car in his driveway. But now the problem was, you didn’t have that blazer anymore because you returned it to Kihyun’s closet, and you thought you did so before he even knew you wore his blazer.

Still inside the conference room, you pulled out your phone and rang San.

“Yo what’s up?” He answered. 

“I need you to find out Kihyun’s shirt size,” you said.

“Like now? Or for like Christmas?” 

“Like now now. He told me to wear a black blazer in his size,” you answered. 

“And why would he do that? If you’re just after a men’s blazer, half this office could probably help you,” San replied. You heard some hushed voices before San added, “Actually Wooyoung begged me to say you can borrow one of his.” 

You laughed at Wooyoung’s antics but then considered. Wooyoung and Kihyun were roughly the same height. “If it fits, I’ll take it. Wooyoung has the CEO’s permission to get me a black blazer in his size as long as he gets it to me before the office closes.” 

“He says he’s got one at home and he’ll have someone grab it for him,” San said. 

“Thank you so much you two. I owe you one, Wooyoung,” you said. 

“Buy me lunch!” Wooyoung practically shouted into the phone and San started shushing him.

“Alright, I’ll take you to lunch and we’ll call it even.” 

You met with Wooyoung outside the building several hours later to drive to a nearby Mexican restaurant, and let him pick whatever he wanted. To his credit, and your surprise, he picked the cheapest option there. Afterwards, Wooyoung drove you two to a nearby building where his housemate, Yeosang, was waiting with the blazer. You waited in the car as Wooyoung grabbed the bag which happened to be from a women’s clothing store. 

When you saw that, you groaned and asked, “I thought I said I needed a men’s blazer?”

Wooyoung chuckled. “It's there, I promise. Yeosang probably just used the first bag he saw. I didn’t tell him it was for you or anything.” 

“Oh good, because the entire investment industry finding out I am using my underlings clothes will definitely end well,” you replied sarcastically. 

"You say that but what about the fact your underling Kihyun basically ordered you to wear this?” Wooyoung replied.

“He didn’t order me, he suggested it,” you scoffed. 

“Uh no, the gossip goes he told you to cover up and wear a purple scarf with a black blazer that’s oversized.”

“God where do you even hear these things?” You rolled your eyes. “Still though, putting that in a women’s clothing store bag wasn’t a bad idea. Kihyun won’t know I am wearing your clothes, right?”

Wooyoung pulled his car into MX’s parking lot. He switched off the engine and turned to face you. His usual teasing voice was replaced by a serious one. “Miss y/n, I need to know what’s happening between you and Kihyun. He’s acting weird.”

“Weird? That doesn’t seem like Kihyun.” 

Wooyoung sighed. “I can’t tell if you don't see it because of how hard you try to ignore him but Kihyun was uncomfortable - no, furious - hearing about Jongho. He’s also struggling to keep a straight face if you so much as smile at San. I don’t think I need to tell you why men behave like that considering how many dates you’ve been on…”

You smacked Wooyoung’s shoulder at that.

Wooyoung continued. “But Kihyun wants your attention. He is into you. And if you’re willing to go to this much trouble for him, I’d say you feel a little something too.”

You looked down at your lap, at the bag you were holding. You stayed silent.

“Y/n…” Wooyoung said gently. “I am asking this as your friend. Did something happen between you and Kihyun?” 

You finally looked up at him. “Yes.” You said in a small voice. 

Wooyoung nodded. “Is he the one who made you hate your first project at MX when we changed those warehouses into the marina?” 

You nodded. Your lips were quivering too much for you to ask Wooyoung how he even made these connections.

“And I am guessing he's also the reason you keep going to that restaurant at the marina? And even demanded that regardless of who the owner was, they had to serve chips and aioli?” 

“Look I was stupid okay? I had just gotten rejected by that fashion designer KHJ and needed an outlet,” you groaned.

“No, it’s actually pretty romantic. Eating the food that reminds you of Kihyun for so long,” Wooyoung mused.

“God I really feel sorry for that owner. Maybe I should speak to him someday and tell him he can get rid of that from his menu if he wants,” you said, rubbing the tears off your face.

Wooyoung grabbed your hand to stop you from damaging your skin from excessive rubbing. “Don’t do that, just uhh… tell you what. There’s no one around right now, so let’s get you inside, grab San or Minhyuk, and talk about this okay?” 

Wooyoung helped you out of the car, carried your bag and walked you to the elevator, where he waited with you for it to come down. You had your back to the entrance of the building, so you didn’t see Kihyun and Hoseok walking in, but Wooyoung did, and a mischievous thought formed in his head.

“Hey Miss y/n, don’t hate me for this, but I have a plan. Do you trust me?”

You sniffled. “Sure Woo, it’s not like this could go worse right?”

Wooyoung watched the elevator coming down, and said to you in a low voice, “You're going to get on and go to your floor. I’ll take the next one up. And then, you're going to let me say whatever I want…” 

“You already do that,” you retorted.

“Right, but to the people behind us.”

You started to turn your head but Wooyoung grabbed your jaw and held you still. “Don’t do it. Don’t look.”

The doors opened and Wooyoung guided you inside with a gentle hand on your shoulder. He then spun you around, which is when you saw Kihyun and Hoseok standing behind you. Hoseok looked at you questioningly while sipping bubble tea, but Kihyun was watching Wooyoung with his fists clenched. With your attention elsewhere, Woyooung had to physically close your fingers around the bag when he handed it to you. 

Then in a louder than necessary voice, Wooyoung said, “You’re going to look so beautiful, I can't wait to see you in that.” 

He walked off laughing just as the elevator doors closed, and the last thing you saw was Hoseok’s amused face beside Kihyun’s jealous one.

Minhyuk was already waiting at your office when you arrived, and he was holding the purple scarf you wanted delivered. He must’ve noticed your troubled face, because he started explaining.

“Don’t worry. Wooyoung dropped by architecture. I swear that man is like my spirit animal though, he was thinking exactly what I thought,” Minhyuk said as you opened the door to your office. Minhyuk took a seat on your couch while you gazed out of your window towards the marina.

“Then I presume you know who Kihyun is to me?” You said without looking at Minhyuk. 

He sighed and adjusted his sleeves. “Look, I knew something was up between you two. You are so determined to not look at him that you twist your entire body away from him. Which means the rest of us have to watch as Kihyun practically commits every square millimetre of you to memory any time you’re in the same room. Point is, one of you never looks and the other is always looking.” 

“But that doesn’t tell you he’s that person from my school to university days,” you replied, still looking out your window. 

You heard Minhyuk standing up and walking towards you. “No, but we could tell he knew more about you than the regular person. I’ve worked here since your were an intern, and I like to think we’re good friends who know each other well, but Kihyun seems to know your soul.” 

You turned around, looking at Minhyuk with a tear stricken face. “What do you mean?” 

Minhyuk smiled softly. “Did you know Kihyun’s the one restocking that aioli sauce in the break room that you eat with practically everything? Although you should know he uses it just as much as you.” 

You giggled at that. “Did you know that one time I begged him to go to this seafood restaurant, and he came even though he hates seafood? The only thing he was able to eat was hot chips.” 

Minhyuk smiled when he noticed the way your eyes sparkled as you talked about Kihyun. He checked his phone. “Woo and San will be here soon. How about you tell us the whole story when they get here?”

[spanishskulduggery]

English: "I offered Jose my car" "Le ofrecí a Jose mi carro". The indirect object NOUN becomes a qualified pronoun. I have a list of 20 odd verbs where that is the case. (1) Does this rule have a name (2)Described somewhere officially - like Royal Spanish society (3) OR is just a convention. I can find some references but no definite details. Can you help

I think I need to see what you're looking at because I'm not entirely sure I'm following. Please let me know if this isn't answering your question or I'm missing it

Bear with me, I'm going to explain what I am understanding:

"I offered Jose my car" uses both an indirect and a direct object. Jose is the indirect object - le ofrecí "I offered (to him)"

The mi carro here is the direct object, using a possessive adjective - "my" - instead of just "the car". That would be called a "possessive determiner" - in more linguistic cases, or languages with case systems I think this would be understood as "the genitive"

...

You could potentially change the sentence to use a kind of possessive that works as a noun/adjectival.

In other words, le ofrecí el mío "I offered him mine"; where mío/a means "of mine" and it changes for gender of the thing

Like le ofrecí la pluma "I offered him the pen" vs. le ofrecí la mía "I offered him mine"

-

If you're asking why the le is there for indirect objects, this is really more of a 3rd person thing

me ofreciste "you offered me" needs no pronoun because me only applies to yo as its object

When you use le or les it could refer to "him", "her", and also usted / ustedes, or "them" of any gender

le ofrezco a José is for emphasis, as le ofrezco "I offer to him/her/usted" is simple... but if I'm specifically singling out the person you add the a

This is just like me gusta being regular, but a mí me gusta being for emphasis

As an example: le ofrecí mi carro a José, no a ella reads as "I offered my car to Jose, not to her"

The a (alguien) isn't strictly necessary but it does make it clearer who you're talking about because le and les have more ambiguity

-

Again, please let me know if this is not what you were asking about, I feel like I need more information

[willel]

ST Play Theorizing

Feel free to join in in the comments. I will be putting this under a read more because I am literally doing everything possible not to spoil anyone who doesn't want to know stuff.

A couple more hours have passed and as I listen to the Persona 3 Reload Soundtrack on repeat and eat ice cream, I have some more thoughts.

Henry

What I take away from Henry at this point is that while he's not a good person, he was also in a no-win situation. Henry was purposely and intentionally shaped into the person he is today by Brenner, the Mind Flayer, his mother, and himself.

I can't exactly fault anyone being influenced by a demon from an alternate dimension, but it's just that. Influence. His symptoms, while similar to possessed Will, doesn't seem to match. It seems like he's in the same position as non-possessed Will. Unlike Will who can just feel its presence and understand its intentions, it seems Henry can actually "hear" it.

From what we've seen of other possessed people, they are pretty much incapable of functioning like normal human beings after a while since the mind Flayer is not human. They also begin to look sickly and pale. Like zombies who stare off into space.

The Henry was saw in the lab in season 4 was not like that. Certainly he wasn't right in the head but I wouldn't classify that as a normal Mind Flayer possession.

No, there's something else here. We have two people so far who were in the Upside Down for an extended amount of time and SOMETHING was wrong with them that isn't exactly possession. They become connected to that place and change mentally and physically.

It's not just mental and physical trauma, it's something else.

Could it be simply breathing the air too long is enough to do this?

Could it be eating or drinking... whatever substance that can be found there is the culprit? What exactly is there that changed Henry and Will's nature?

Will was there for like..... 7-8 days I think? And they say Henry was there for 12. Could it be those 4 to 5 extra days caused the Mind Flayer to have more influence over Henry's Mind than Will's?

Anyway, to summarize, what I take away from Henry's story here is "No one is born evil, they become evil." He was probably once a normal kid and maybe in an alternate world where he was able to make some slightly different choices, he could've gone down a different path. Like most other humans.

But now he is the way he is, killing teenagers for power and revenge, obsessed with making the world his playground. Although his goals line up with what the Mind Flayer wants, I don't believe the Mind Flayer is the ultimate source of his "pain" so to speak.

Will's Disappearance

I haven't really found enough people describing Henry's disappearance. So I'll just draw the conclusion that Henry was out near the Nevada desert or something star gazing with his spyglass and accidentally got swept up in one of Brenner's experiments. We he just casually star gazing or was he an adventurous kids that came across a secret government facility and curiosity killed the cat? I dunno.

This disappearance I think we can for sure call an accident. I don't know how he got back to the real world, haven't read that either. But he did.

So this leads me to question Will's disappearance. For the longest time now, I've had the theory that Henry/Vecna kidnapped Will. I don't mean that literally, I mean Henry controlled the Demogorgon that night looking for El and Will got mixed up in that.

Whether he mistook Will for El for a moment, realized it wasn't her, but took him anyway OR thought it was her the whole time and didn't realize it wasn't until afterwards. Either way, I was thinking he controlled the Demogorgon.

Now after this play, I have two different minds.

It's possible that it was the Mind Flayer that took Will. Apparently the Mind Flayer has experience messing with little kids heads and making them into pawns. Vecna might not be able to survive outside the Upside Down, so a new vessel for the Mind Flayer is a given. So I guess Will was a suitable victim for their needs.

It still leads me to wonder if something particular about Will made him suitable for this. Surely Barb or those hunters or so many other people sitting in Hawkins would've worked? So why follow this kid around for a week when getting someone else would've been easier?

The other possibility is that it was still technically Henry/Vecna that orchestrated this. His goals are aligned with the Mind Flayer and his reasons for needing a vessel are the same. Plus, if there was a particular reason to take Will, Henry would have a better idea why since he can get into peoples minds and all. Maybe their similarities is what made Will the ideal candidate.

[beautiful-basque-country]

From “GUIDEPOST OBSERVER: Racism in Spain” by E.N. Bouffard

First published in GUIDEPOST - 31 July 1981

“Racism . . . hatred or intolerance of another race. . .” Random House College Dictionary

In 1978, there were over 158,000 “extranjeros”  residing in Spain representing 61 of the world’s nations from 5 continents. Spain never has had a “racial” problem in the sense that the U.S. has with its blacks and “chicanos;” or the British with their minorities from Africa, Pakistan and India. In fact, Spaniards are most fond of saying that they harbor no racial prejudice whatsoever.

What the Spaniards say is true in one sense. Certainly, no one from the foreign community seems to be complaining about racial discrimination — personal or institutional. (...) In another sense what the Spaniards say is not the whole truth in at least two significant cases. The first involves the Basques; the second the gypsies. <- don't expect nothing more to be said about how Spaniards are racist towards Roma people, it's a subject the author decided didn't need a development.

No “Spaniard” will ever raise a racial issue in discussing the Basques. On the contrary, almost every Basque — some 2 million of them — will agree with the oft and publicly repeated proposition of Herri Batasuna — “No somos españoles!” [We are not Spaniards]

(...) There is only one conclusion to draw from this kind of statement. Whoever makes it does not know the history of the Basques on the Iberian Peninsula, desires to forget it or wants to alter the history books. The Basques have been on this Peninsula so long they do not even know where they came from or how their language originated. Their origins go back beyond recorded history.

Just as one can not understand the ideological roots of communism without reading Marx and Lenin, one can not understand Basque racism without being familiar with Sabino Arana Goiri. All this nonsense of Basque racism which most Basques believe today began with this “ultra” Basque nationalist. In other words, Basque racism is less than 100 years of the thousands the Basques have been on the Peninsula intermarrying with the rest of the population.

In any event, to learn more about Sabino, I had to be satisfied with books written about him by his followers. One of these was a book by ORTZI-a pen name for Herri Batasuna congressman, Francisco Letamendia. The title: “Historia to Euskadi: el nacionalismo vasco y ETA.” Ortzi wrote: “Of the components of (Basque) nationalism which include race, language, character and customs and historic personality, for Sabino the decisive one was race.” He continues: “The racism of Sabino is an ingredient that did not exist in the foral tradition, and it constitutes without any doubt, the most repulsive and disagreeable aspect of his doctrine. “ At least, Ortzi is honest!

<- the fact that Ortzi wrote his opinions on Basque nationalism around A WHOLE CENTURY after Arana's racist views may have something to do with, I don't know, Basque society leaving old ideas behind. Also, notice how the author talks about Sabino (and not by his surname) as if he wasn't worthy of respect. Talking about hate.

What Ortzi states is true. Unfortunately, Sabino’s racial heritage remains. There are other relevant quotes from Sabino:

“Race is the essential element of the nation;  without the Basque race, there would be no Basque country.” <- it was the 19th century when Arana wrote this. Race equaled people. Spanish nationalists were talking about the Spanish race at the same time, but Bouffard chooses silence.

“Unlike the Spanish race which is a mixture of races, the Basque race is original. The Basque race, original and unclassifiable among the races of the world, is not a mixture like the Spanish race . . . “

“A Basque is one who possesses a Basque surname.”

“The principal enemy of the Basque race is the “ Maketa” invasion.” (Maketa is part of Sabino’s inventive language and means Spanish.) <- no, it means from outside EH, a foreigner is a maketo by Arana's terms.

“This invasion corrupted the venerable traditions and customs of the country . . . If the Basque country was independent, this invasion would not be harmful. The Spaniards would be received as foreigners. Their numbers would be limited. Interracial marriages would be prohibited . . .”

“The Basque language . . . is the most ancient and perfect of known languages. But its importance remains subordinated to race . . . The defensive value of the language is an instrument to preserve the Basque country from the Spanish invasion . . . for us it would be ruinous if the Spaniards who reside in our territory speak Euskera.”

Sabino hated — and that is the only word one can use — the “Spaniards.” He once wrote: “Spain is the most degenerated and wretched nation of Europe; its race the most vile and despicable.” On every occasion available, Sabino insulted them.

The Basque-Spanish problem? The root of that problem comes from the seed planted by Sabino Arana. His contemporary followers infected their children with the disease. The subsequent generation in turn, their children. By the time the Spanish Civil War was over (the Basques were losers) coupled with 36 years of Franco’s cultural repression every Basque family had been thoroughly indoctrinated in Basque racism and hatred of the “Spaniards.” <- I'm currently at a loss for words by this whole paragraph. From stating that ETA has something to do with Arana and insinuating the Spanish Civil War was against Basque people, this has it all.

For some reason, Basque bitterness towards the “Spaniards” has not been reciprocated. Until ETA went “haywire,” the Spaniard would talk about the Basque with “cariño” [endearment] and respect. Many still do but with a heavy heart. <- the audacity of this bitch!!!!!! Spain has been oppressing us for centuries but hey, they love us fondly.

(...) The Spanish-Basque problem with its roots in Basque racism and mistrust will be around for generations to come. Unfortunately, the average Spaniard knows next to nothing about Sabino Arana and his pernicious doctrines. Therefore, they will never understand why the Basques continue to state: “no somos españoles!”. <- such an unrequited love the one of Spaniards for Basques...

That what such a f*cking ride. Btw, Guidepost is the oldest publication in English of Spain, and it's edited by the American Club of Madrid. So this was written by an American living in Spain, I presume.

That was in 1981. And in all this article that oozes hatred and misinformation towards us, the author couldn't even feel their bias. The naiveté of the Spaniards not knowing why the Basques hate them so much in contrast with Basque people being evil, infected by hateful, +100-year-old racist ideas is something that would make anyone cry.