#I'm using his image. How evil

[thatcreationsureisunending]

Hey! Apologies for the inactivity, but it's time for a Zoc post!

Recently I've been wondering why I haven't been able to draw asks quite as frequently as I used to, and I realized it might be because I'm trying to force myself to stick to one style. Which.. Doesn't exactly work, considering my art style constantly changes and I'm always trying new things.

Trying to confine myself to one style just to look neat seems to kill the brain, so! As a notice, from here on out, this blog's probably gonna have a very inconsistent style!

(It already kinda did, but you know what I mean!) (It probably won't even be all that noticeable, actually...)

Still, I'd like to hear what other people think about this? See how many of you actually mind and whatnot. I hope that's okay!

[jichanxo]

a lesson hard learnt

[layzeal]

like i just can't get these images of the nitzana border out of my brain. "no aid for the enemy" written in plain english to announce to the world they're proud to be starving the people they've kept imprisoned for decades. the cotton candy machine. the children. without context you'd think it's just a bunch of families gathering for a picnic

[ktempestbradford]

I have been on a Willy Wonkified journey today and I need y'all to come with me

It started so innocently. Scrolling Google News I come across this article on Ars Technica:

At first glance I thought what happened was parents saw AI-generated images of an event their kids were at and became concerned, then realized it was fake. The reality? Oh so much better.

On Saturday, event organizers shut down a Glasgow-based "Willy's Chocolate Experience" after customers complained that the unofficial Wonka-inspired event, which took place in a sparsely decorated venue, did not match the lush AI-generated images listed on its official website.... According to Sky News, police were called to the event, and "advice was given."

Thing is, the people who paid to go were obviously not expecting exactly this:

But I can see how they'd be a bit pissed upon arriving to this:

It gets worse.

"Tempest, how could it possibly--"

source of this video that also includes this charming description:

Made up a villain called The Unknown — 'an evil chocolate maker who lives in the walls'

There is already a meme.

Oh yes, the Wish.com Oompa Loompa:

Who has already done an interview!

As bad (and hilarious) as this all is, I got curious about the company that put on this event. Did they somehow overreach? Did the actors they hired back out at the last minute? (Or after they saw the script...) Oddly enough, it doesn't seem so!

Given what I found when poking around I'm legit surprised there was an event at all. Cuz this outfit seems to be 100% a scam.

The website for this specific event is here and it has many AI generated images on it, as stated. I don't think anyone who bought tickets looked very closely at these images, otherwise they might have been concerned about how much Catgacating their children would be exposed to.

Yes, Catgacating. You know, CATgacating!

I personally don't think anyone should serve exarserdray flavored lollipops in public spaces given how many people are allergic to it. And the sweet teats might not have been age appropriate.

Though the Twilight Tunnel looks pretty cool:

I'm not sure that Dim Tight Twdrding is safe. I've also been warned that Vivue Sounds are in that weird frequency range that makes you poop your pants upon hearing them.

Yes, Virginia, these folks used an AI image generator for everything on the website and used Chat GPT for some of the text! From the FAQ:

Q: I cannot go on the available days. Will you have more dates in the future? A: Should there be capacity when you arrive, then you will be able to enter without any problems. In the event that this is not the case, we may ask you to wait a bit.

Fear not, for this question is asked again a few lines down and the answer makes more sense.

Curious about the events company behind this disaster, I took myself over to the homepage of House of Illuminati and I was not disappointed.

I would 100% trust these people to plan my wedding.

This abomination of a website is a badly edited WordPress blog filled with AI art and just enough blog posts to make the casual viewer think that it's a legit business for about 0.0004 seconds.

Their attention to detail is stunning, from how they left up the default first post every WP blog gets to how they didn't bother changing the name on several images, thus revealing where they came from. Like this one:

With the lovely and compact filename "DALL·E-2024-01-30-09.50.54-Imagine-a-scene-where-fantasy-and-reality-merge-seamlessly.-In-the-foreground-a-grand-interactive-gala-is-taking-place-filled-with-elegant-guests-i.png"

"Concept.png" came from the same AI generator that gets text almost, but not quiiiiiite right:

There are a suspicious number of .webp images in the uploads, which makes me think they either stole them from other sites where AI "art" was uploaded or they didn't want to pay for the hi-res versions of some and just grabbed the preview image.

The real fun came when I noticed this filename: Before-and-After-Eventologists-Transformation-Edgbaston-Cricket-Ground-1024x1024-1.jpg and decided to do a Google image search. Friends, you will be shocked to hear that the image in question, found on this post touting how they can transform a boring warehouse into a fun event space, was stolen from this actual event planner.

Even better, this weirdly grainy image?

From a post that claims to be about the preparations for a "Willy Wonka" experience (we'll get to this in a minute), is not only NOT an actual image of anyone preparing anything for Illuminati's event, it is stolen from a YouTube thumbnail that's been chopped to remove the name of the company that actually made this. Here's the video.

If you actually read the blog posts they're all copypasta or some AI generated crap. To the point where this seems like not a real business at all. There's very specific business information at the bottom, but nothing else seems real.

As I said, I'm kinda surprised they put on an event at all. This has, "And then they ran off with all our money!" written all over it. I'm perplexed.

And also wondering when the copyright lawyers are gonna start calling, because...

This post explicitly says they're putting together a "Willy Wonka’s Chocolate Factory Experience" complete with golden tickets.

Somewhere along the line someone must have wised up, because the actual event was called "Willys Chocolate Experience" (note the lack of apostrophe) and the script they handed to the actors about 10 minutes before they were supposed to "perform" was about a "Willy McDuff" and his chocolate factory.

As I was going through this madness with friends in a chat, one pointed out that it took very little prompting to get the free Chat GPT to spit out an event description and such very similar to all this while avoiding copyrighted phrases. But he couldn't figure out where the McDuff came from since it wasn't the type of thing GPT would usually spit out...

Until he altered the prompt to include it would be happening in Glasgow, Scotland.

You cannot make this stuff up.

But truly, honestly, I do not even understand why they didn't take the money and run. Clearly this was all set up to be a scam. A lazy, AI generated scam.

Everything from the website to the event images to the copy to the "script" to the names of things was either stolen or AI generated (aka stolen). Hell, I'd be looking for some poor Japanese visitor wandering the streets of Glasgow, confused, after being jacked for his mascot costume.

HE LIVES IN THE WALLS, Y'ALL.

[ozzgin]

Yandere! Demon King Headcanons

You have accepted the Demon King’s marriage proposal!

I wasn't planning on writing a second part, but some of you gave me ideas and I decided on short headcanons instead. The image of a big, buff, evil Overlord lovingly doing house chores for their human was too tempting.

Content: gender neutral reader, monster romance

[Main Story]

The proposal, as you quickly found out, came as a surprise to everyone. Not even the King’s loyal butler knew of such intentions; he’d assumed they were finally going to destroy everything and everyone at once. To him, the dramatic scene of you and his Lord enveloped in flames was anything but a romantic confession. It was your final battle. So one might imagine the poor lizard’s confusion when the Demon King returned with you following behind. “S-sir?” He questioned meekly. The armored creature nodded at his servant. “It has been done. We’ll plan the wedding upon our arrival home.” The what? His baffled expression must’ve given him away, because the Demon continued: “What’re you gawking like that for? Didn’t I ask you earlier how humans forge a bond?” The butler stumbled to search for his words, swallowing dryly. “Well y-yes, your Majesty…I just didn’t expect it to be anything more than curiosity.”

The same speechless reaction repeated itself all the way to the Kingdom. Soldiers, diplomats, other monstrous entities of the unknown Land, they all greeted you in disbelief. So much, in fact, that you began to poke fun at their hesitant response: “I am his mortal enemy”, you’d announce with a dramatic bow. “Spouse! We talked about this!” the Demon Lord would quickly correct you, flustered.

Truth be told, you're not quite sure what made you accept this ridiculous offer. Perhaps a mixture of intrigue and disillusionment. The city you've dedicated yourself to stood no longer, burnt to a crisp along with its corruption and crookery. In a way, the monster had unshackled you from a responsibility you no longer wanted to bear. And if that wasn't enough to convince you, well, the sight of the Ruler himself kneeling before you certainly sealed the deal.

Although it may take a while for you to accept the idea that your worst adversary had actually been infatuated with you this entire time. Were there even any hints? During your last battle you nearly died. You'd crawled out of an enormous crater on your fours, bones shattered and ligaments torn. When you pointed this out to your groom-to-be, he stared at you in horror. "I had no idea humans were that fragile. I was trying to adjust my strength so as to not do any harm." You could only nod, patting away the sweat beads forming on your forehead. Uh huh. Maybe it's better you didn't experience his full range of attacks.

Ever since the devastating revelation, he's been extra careful when handling you. Sometimes he'll awkwardly hover his large hands above you, with a concentrated frown on his face. "What the hell are you doing?" you ask, eyeing him suspiciously. "I'm trying to be gentle." he'll answer. "You're not even touching me." Fair point, but it's better to be safe than sorry.

The Demon King will often ask you about customs from your world as a way to make you comfortable, just in case you get struck by the occasional homesickness. His Realm is very different from what you're used to, after all. Lamentably, his own years spent in the human world were not too fruitful from a cultural point of view. He was either busy stalking you or devouring the souls of the innocent. Now that he has nothing else to worry about, he will gladly listen and even do his best to actively participate.

You wake up shrouded in thick smoke. Overwhelmed by heavy déjà vu, you rush down the grand stairs, searching for the source of the fire. Are you being attacked? Enemies of the Demon King? You elbow yourself against the kitchen door, similar to when you left your home to find the city ablaze. The Demon Lord turns to face you, visibly overwhelmed and exhausted. You gawk at the scene unfolding before you and remember to close your mouth, mainly out of politeness. "It's too small. I'm afraid I cannot use it", he reveals timidly, holding a human spatula between his fingers to showcase the impractical size difference. You glance at the disastrous attempt behind him and manage to deduce he'd been trying to make breakfast. In an unspoken agreement, he steps back and allows you to take over.

"I'm surprised you let him burn down the kitchen", you mention to the butler once you get a moment to yourself. The scaly servant sighs, and theatrically lifts his clawed hands in hopelessness. "Pointless to argue with him when he's like this, (Y/N). In my entire life serving the Family, I've never witnessed a more stubborn leader." He points to the lavish portraits adorning the walls with a faint smile. "And, to put it frankly, he's obsessed with you. I've never seen him in a more deplorable state. Marrying a human?! The shame, the outrage!” he cries out. “No offense intended to you, of course. You must understand." You hum in agreement, a tad uncomfortable, yet sympathetic. "M-maybe it'll tone down after the wedding?" you suggest as encouragement. "Oh, no, I suspect it will only get worse", he bemoans in return. Then, he promptly straightens his back and resumes his duties.

You go on your own way, not wanting to burden the lizard in his work. As you cross the hallway, you find the Demon King himself scanning each room, somewhat agitated. He notices you and his features soften. "I was wondering where you'd vanished." You approach him with the words of the butler still ringing in your ears.

[tizeline]

Presenting: The AU I accidentally created OOPSIE!! 😬😬😬

And yes, I know, it's another Seperation AU, and yes YES, I KNOW, they're a bit overdone at this point, bUT LISTEN!! That's precisely how I ended up in this situation!!!

So there's a lot of Seperation AUs exploring a lot of different scenarios with the turtles being raised, well, seperately. I've seen quite a few of them at this point, and despite whatever the combination is when it comes to turtle + parental figure, I'm sure I'm not the only one who has noticed a pattern of specifically Donnie often being raised by a villain. Which makes sense, he has a tendency to put on this evil-mad-scientist-act in the show, so of course a lot of us want to see what Donnie would actually be like as a proper antagonist. But that just made me think think of the opposite possibility, of Donnie being the singular good guy while his brothers are all bad guys. Mind you, I'm sure SOMEONE must've thought of this concept before me, but I haven't seen it! So here we are!

In this AU (which doesn't have a name so don't ask!) Splinter only managed to yoink Donnie during The Incident™, so he ended up an only child, while Raph, Leo and Mikey were raised by Draxum. I also imagine Draxum being at least a decent dad considering the circumstances, so the kids he raised ended up with pretty similar personalities to what they have in canon.

Because of that we get Hero Donnie who acts all villainous cuz he's a total theaterkid, and Villain Raph, Leo and Mikey who act all heroic cuz they honestly believe they're doing the right thing in literally destroying all of humankind and as a result developed an intense case of main character syndrome.

Anyway here's some references-

I don't know how far I'll explore this AU. I fully intended to just make like one or two posts rambling about the basic concept, but when I was drawing these images my brain went into full Brain Blast mode and I started coming up with a bunch of other ideas so uh... we'll see how this turns out later I guess haha

[collaredkittyboy]

Well it's come up multiple times today so I'll make a post about it.

I think the popularization of the word "twink" has ultimately been really bad for people in general.

I know it's hard to track the positive and negative effects of language but I don't think it's hard to see how creating a word for a group of people wherein the most consistent qualifying trait is "being skinny" is healthy for people's self image. Obviously people have lots of ideas about what it means to be a twink- gay, lacking body hair, feminine, beautiful, young, white- but the most consistent descriptor I've seen is "skinny." Hell, it's even a body type on Grindr; the size below "average."

So it kind of functions as a code word in the gay community: anyone can say that they're only interested in twinks and they don't have to look shallow by saying they only like skinny guys. It's such an accepted attitude that no one really bats an eye when they hear it.

I'm not even going to get into how it's become part of the larger issue of people turning "top" and "bottom" into gender roles 2.0, but that is closely related, because people with any internalized homophobia can look at a skinny, feminine man and turn off their fag alarms by viewing him as a woman or not a "real" man, and it makes twinks more acceptable to society at large.

No, ignoring all of that, one of the biggest issues is that gay men are taught by society that they are only attractive while they are skinny. Just having the label "twink" reminds a boy that people are looking at his body and judging it. There were countless times when I was growing up that people would tell me, "You're such a twink," or argue about whether or not I qualified as a twink because I had body hair. People around you, unpromted, judge your body and give you a label based on it, and that label has a large influence on whether or not you're seen as objectively attractive. I know many other gay people who say they wish they were a twink so they could be more attractive to guys.

So think, you have all these kids growing up being told whether or not they qualify as a twink, and then we have the gay community as a whole where it's completely acceptable to say you're only attracted to twinks. I think its because of all of this pressure to be a twink (in other words, to have a below average weight) that many of the gay people that I interact with struggle with a negative body image or eating disorders.

I mean, people talk about "twink death" like it's an actual event that makes a gay man much less attractive, and no one thinks that, maybe, it's harmful to tell a guy that the very day he stops being young and thin and pretty, he will stop being attractive and celebrated?

I'm not qualified to speak on fatphobia in physical queer spaces because I don't have the ability to frequent them where I live, but I can't imagine that these aren't issues at social gatherings as well. I also can't speak on my own experiences with weight discrimination because so far in my life I have had a naturally thin body, but I have experienced a lot of outside pressure to be thin that have caused me to pick up unhealthy eating habits to reduce my weight in fear that I could become fat later on. Thankfully that is something that I've mostly been able to work past. I'm not an expert, but idk, I just wanted to rant on my silly tumblr blog.

Obviously it's impossible for a word to be inherently bad. I'm not trying to imply that saying "twink" is a magic word with evil powers. Obviously the real issues at play here are fatphobia and harmful beauty standards and body shaming. But in my opinion, the popular use of the word twink has made it much easier and acceptable to express fatphobia, etc, in the gay community by turning "skinny person" into a "type of guy that you should try to be so you can be attractive."

[acid-ixx]

lovefool by the cardigans

— series concept ft. soft yandere dc! x bimbo/himbo reader

soft yandere! dc characters x himbo/bimbo/careless reader... who's just a bundle of joy to be with... where all the villains have an agreement to never mess with you, hell even kidnap you occasionally from the arms of the heroes just to hear you rant endlessly about your 'mundane' life as if you weren't just abducted... where the heroes would quite frankly sometimes have to put you in some sort of human leash because you wouldn't literally panic if there's a gun pointed against you...

the urge to make a shitpost/romcom series just because i listened to lovefool by the cardigans... no idea of platonic/romantic but i'm just moving on with the flow... a bit more on the romantic side ig...

i'm going feral at the thought of a wild goose chase with you, because one second you're bundled up in the arms of the justice league, each one of them scheduled to strictly watch over you, another is stationed near the door as they'd be the one to get you anything you want or need— then suddenly you're at a villain's lair that houses all the bad guys and then oops! you accidentally inhaled the scarecrow's fear gas but you're not reacting?! is your mind filled with air...? all your response was a quirk of your eyebrows and a question that's just "is there any signal here? the league told me to call me if i'm in any trouble...?" which then you would quickly take back and instead would smile at them like some goons didn't just threaten you with a knife to your neck just because you screamed, calling the scarecrow's mask a sack of moving, possessed potatoes.

originally, most villains would whisk you away from the arms of your vigilante babysitters but then they discover you're just a bundle of joy who laughs at the shittiest joke anyone could make, who snorts at their 'funny' antics and words, who grins when they take pictures of you to use as bait that you're being held hostage. it kind of goes to the point that their original plans all go to waste and they decide to just, take you all for themselves. they don't even know how you were able to survive being thrown around carelessly by the shoulders of big, muscular men, but they're more jealous at the image of you giggling and running your hands through muscles arms and toned abs; so they took it in themself to be the ones to guide you through your now makeshift room, hoping you would fawn over them with those cute stars in your eyes...

and if you were taken back into the arms of the vigilantes? oh god, the heroes can't even scold you because you'd be already hugging the next person in the room, babbling endlessly about your adventures with the villains and ignoring their seething envy with just how much you brag about how some are "too hot to be evil! i think i can change them!" because why are you talking about some randoms who just kidnapped you for their own gain when you have them right there? no way are you now getting out of their sights, them trying so hard to even distract you from going outside because "it's just too dangerous to be out there, boo! you're safe with us."

and you just nod your head with that toothy grin of your! are you seriously unaware of how much the richest of the rich are willing to pay for just an hour of your already shining presence? hell, you're just too... out of it, to the point you'll be the one who discovers their secret identities just by accidentally noticing details that nobody with functioning thoughts would even think about.

"batman! you must be bruce wayne, right?" you randomly approach him one day, with a foot tapping the floor impatiently. you stare at him like you had made a scientific discovery.

"... how do you know...?"

"'cause you're both hot and rich and whenever i get a feel of mr. wayne's abs, they're the same size as yours—!" and you continue to guess his children's identities all correctly with a quip of how hot they are or how you wish one you were fit and toned enough to have honkers as big as them...

... that night, you're spending it in the batcave with bruce and his children trying their damn best to brainwash you into keeping their identities a secret, to which you reply with a nod and an airheaded smile. but then the moment they remove you from the straps constricting you in a comfy bed, you'll be running off to alfred, ranting about how you can't believe that you guessed their personas right and if he knew it all along too...

huh, guess that's what makes you all the more charming.

a/n: please do comment or send in asks if you're interested in this as much as i am... i wrote this in quick succession and altho i am planning to make this series a shitpost one or a lighthearted romcom one, i rlly want to amp the yandere-ness hehe. it was fun writing this albeit it being written in about 10 minutes or less. ignore the header ill change it soon 🫦

[arminsumi]

I Want to Kiss You (4)

You and Satoru falling in love despite a language barrier.

2.6k

★ Synopsis : struggling to communicate on an aquarium date.

★ Pairings : fem reader / Gojo さとる / Geto すぐる

★ Content : fluff, lighthearted love triangle

↺ Ch.3 | M.List | arminsumi | Library

すぐるのアパート 9:15 AM

A soft redness dusted Satoru’s face as he vigorously washed his face with a foaming cleanser in the bathroom. Early morning. Very hot. Peak summer heat. And on this stark-bright day he had plucked the courage (thanks to Suguru’s motherly encouragement) to ask you out on a date. You’d agreed with a smile – and the image of your smiling response lingered in Satoru’s head while he got ready for the date.

Satoru looked in the mirror at his reflection and noticed that the corners of his lips were naturally upturned; he was at a genuinely happy point in his life. Ever since you came to visit Japan, Satoru felt like an invisible weight lifted from his shoulders. One he wasn’t aware of before it lifted.

He blinked at his reflection, white lashes quivering.

私は大丈夫に見えますか？

Do I look okay?

He checked himself out in the mirror, observing how his white t-shirt draped over his shoulders.

私はカジュアルすぎる服装ですか？

Am I dressing too casually?

He dabbed cologne on his neck and sprayed it under his shirt to trap the minty-vanilla scent.

When he entered the living room, Suguru took one inhale of Satoru and his nose immediately scrunched up at the minty scent that hit his nose.

「ミント？」 he fake-belched, "Better vacate the area." he said dramatically and went to the kitchen, which was not divided by a wall but just a ceiling-tall shelf panel that you could peer through.

You and Satoru laughed at Suguru's overreaction.

Mint hopped on one of the shelves near Suguru, and then he extended the joke by freaking out.

「私はミント地獄にいる。」 he said. "I'm in mint hell."

Satoru giggled and tormented Suguru with his cologne by trying to trap him in a hug — Suguru was having none of it. Their banter settled down after a few minutes.

Mint was just observing and swishing her tail peacefully the whole time.

"Satoru should put that cologne on you, Mint, then I'll hate you even more!" he cooed condescendingly at the Turkish Angora.

You laughed, "Suguru, it's no wonder Mint hates you, if you speak like that to her."

"Hey now listen — this cat is the reincarnation of a murderer that tried to kill me in a past life." Suguru said dramatically, "See that evilness in her eyes? She's out for my blood."

電車 / Train / 10:00 AM

Satoru used the translator to talk with you during the train ride to the aquarium.

At some point, a translation of one of your replies made him laugh so hard that tears formed in his eyes.

Google translate felt emotionless, so Satoru brought out his phrasebook and tried to speak with it. It looked personalized with his notes. You could tell that he’d consulted the book many times already in the past.

You wanted to look at it closer, so you asked, “Can I?”

“Mhm.” He handed it to you.

You flipped through the phrasebook and read the section names. Basics. Practical. Social – there was a big red circle drawn around a particular phrase on page 140. The romance section.

Satoru’s cheeks burned. He felt a bit caught. He gave you an awkward but cute smile.

What he had circled in the phrasebook was;

キスしてもいい？

The train stopped at the station you had to get off at. The lady over the speaker sounded so sweet that your attention was drawn away from the phrasebook. Satoru surreptitiously took it from your hands and packed it into his backpack.

The two of you boarded off the train, bumping shoulders at the doors and laughing about it.

Satoru squinted because of the sun, and you distinctly remember looking at him and thinking about how attractive he was when he squinted.

Because the sun was blazing so bright, Satoru hovered his hand over the back of your head to make sure you didn't heat up too much while you and him walked to the aquarium.

水族館 / 11:00 AM

Satoru felt a self-conscious feeling kick in when the two of you bumbled through the aquarium together.

Hand gestures flew between the two of you. You shared confused faces which were followed by laughter. It felt like you were playing charades at some point.

Sometimes Satoru would say "uhh" for so long after saying one English word that he'd start smiling and laughing at himself.

He'd end his incomplete thought with "You know?" and you'd shake your head and start laughing, "I have no idea." you'd reply.

Then Satoru would use google translate, practicing each word under his breath.

⁕⁕⁕⁕

While waiting for you by the aquarium bathrooms, Satoru practiced asking "Can I kiss you?" over and over. He paced around and muttered under his breath.

It's not that he couldn't pronounce it, it's just that he wanted it to sound less stiff and more emotional.

I want to kiss you with desperation, not I want to kiss you with dullness.

An old man who looked about ninety blinked at Satoru and wondered why this young man was pacing back and forth while practicing romantic English phrases.

("What are you doing?") he asked Satoru.

("Learning to speak English.") Satoru replied.

("Why?") the old man asked.

("Because the girl I like speaks English. I'm waiting for her right now.") Satoru replied.

("Well, I teach English. I don't think you should ask to kiss her, that’s too direct. If the universe wills it, you two will fall into a kiss and it will just happen.") he advised.

("I don't really believe in the stars bringing people together. I want to kiss her whether or not the universe wills it.") Satoru said.

("You've got it all wrong. The stars really do bring people together. I'm sure the same stars that brought her to Japan will also bring her to your lips.") the old man said.

("... are you a poet, too?")

You came out of the bathroom. The ethereal aquarium light lit your face beautifully.

("Oh... is that girl the one you are in love with?") the old man noticed you.

Satoru looked at you. His cheeks warmed up.

("Yes, that's the girl I'm in love with...") he replied dreamily.

("It's no wonder. Well then, good luck.") the old man said.

⁕⁕⁕⁕

It felt like the aquarium was a whole other world, like a paradise in a bottle corked shut, one which only you and Satoru could exist within.

He watched the spin of aquatic life with you in silence. You seemed captivated.

The back of his hand brushed against your arm.

Satoru's hand trembled a little.

背が高すぎるんです。

I'm too tall.

Satoru had to be tactful about it.

どうすれば彼女の手を握ることができますか?

How can I hold her hand?

He awkwardly bent his knees a little to shorten himself.

Then he poked the back of your hand softly to get your attention, blatantly hinting to you that he wanted to hold your hand.

So you offered him your hand and then he seized it like a treasure being presented to him. His lips grew into a smug smile.

You saw him go red in the face, even in the dimness and blueness of the aquarium light.

You and him gently held hands and stood in front of the tall glass of the jellyfish enclosure.

つまりこれが愛なんだ？

So this is love?

The room was dark blue, but the enclosure lights lit up the see-through sea creatures with a magenta color.

It felt like a sight you could stare at forever and ever and always be at peace; magenta jellyfish pulsing then drifting then pulsing again, their bell-shaped bodies and tentacles behaving like a chiffon dress in water.

⁕⁕⁕⁕

クラゲのようにあなたの愛の中で漂いたい。

I want to float in your love like a jellyfish.

You and Satoru held hands as if your hands were glued to each other.

While exploring the map in the afternoon, he stayed at your side like a magnet. If he lost your hand, he immediately searched for it and held it again.

The summer heat got intense. He sweated more than you did, but even still looked attractive and fresh. To cool off, you and him searched for cold things to eat.

"Uhhh — do you want to eat shave ice?" he asked.

"Mhm, sounds good." you nodded.

So the two of you went on a long, long search for someone selling shaved ice and eventually found one. You zoned out a bit while enjoying his voice.

Satoru mentally kicked himself because even though he thought he was prepared for this date with you, he forgot to bring extra money. He could only get one cup of shaved ice.

"What flavour?" he asked you.

You told him cherry, so he got cherry.

The two of you shared it. It made his lips go red and cold.

⁕⁕⁕⁕

真っ赤で冷たい唇でキスできたらいいのに。それは冬のキスのようなものでしょう。

I wish I could kiss you with red, cold lips. It would be like a winter kiss.

The train shuddered.

You'd noticed that Satoru always kept his knees together when sitting next to you — to give you space. But now after holding hands, closeness was being chased and chased; the both of you scooted closer together and tried to translate your thoughts to each other with the phone.

Satoru typed in:

JPN : 私たちはくっついています。

ENG : We are stuck together.

You chuckled softly in response. His eyes always lit up and he really relished in making you laugh, even if it was just a soft chuckle.

You replied to him:

ENG : you are warm.

JPN : あなたは暖かいです。

He replied to you:

JPN : そう、あなたのせいで。

ENG : yes, because of you.

You replied to him:

ENG : are you flirting?

JPN : イチャイチャしてるの？

Satoru gave you a cheeky smile.

JPN : 私はいちゃいちゃしてます、はい。

ENG : I'm flirting, yes.

You smiled as he continued typing. His thumbs hesitated, like he was nervous about what he was about to type next.

Satoru's heart was beating harder and harder in his chest.

JPN : 頬にキスしてもいいですか？

ENG : ! NO CONNECTION

You both groaned.

The connection kept failing from then on, so the two of you laughingly attempted to communicate by using the outdated pocket phrasebook for the rest of the train ride home.

"Kiss...?" he tapped his finger on his cheek.

You thought he meant he wanted you to kiss him on his cheek, but he meant to ask if he could kiss your cheek.

So he malfunctioned when you leaned in and gave him a small but firm kiss on his left cheek. His ears and cheeks burned.

When you two stepped off the train, Satoru lingered behind you for a moment and grazed his fingertips over the place where you kissed and smiled to himself.

こんなに柔らかい唇。。。

Such soft lips...

すぐるのアパート 9:00 PM

The boys were talking about you at home while you were in the bathroom freshening up after the long, hot day out.

("Satoru, you're glowing. Did something good happen on the date?") Suguru smirked.

("She kissed me.") Satoru told him dreamily.

Suguru widened his eyes.

("She kissed you?!")

("Just on the cheek.") Satoru sighed, ("Her lips were so soft...")

("Were they now? I think you're exaggerating.") Suguru teased.

("I'm not exaggerating! Ask her for a kiss on the cheek, and you'll see; she has the softest lips ever.")

Suguru went quiet and pink in the face after Satoru suggested that he should ask you for a cheek kiss.

("Alright. I'll see for myself...") he mumbled.

⁕⁕⁕⁕

Come the evening, the three of you piled up like cats on the couch in the living room and watched an old movie together.

"Seems like someone's comfy." Suguru commented.

You smiled and looked at Satoru; he curled up against you with his noodle-like limbs and fell asleep mid-way through the movie. Your warmth had made him too drowsy and dreamy to keep his eyes open.

"You know, I was worried that we wouldn't have the same chemistry in real life as we've had through the screen." you said.

Suguru let out a breathy laugh and replied.

"Yeah, I thought it would be like that too. When I hugged you at the airport, though, I felt the same spark I felt when we first video-called." he said.

You felt your cheeks warm up the more he talked.

"...spark?"

"Huh?" he raised his brows.

"You said you felt a spark between us?"

Suguru's heart throbbed. He didn't seem to know how to respond, but then he decided to act a fool.

"Oh, did I say spark?"

"Yes, you did! You said spark, I heard you." you playfully smacked his shoulder.

He started grinning so he hid his mouth with his hand.

"Well, I think you heard wrong." he teased.

You looked at each other in silence.

"... hey, Suguru?"

"Yeah?" he replied breathlessly.

He withdrew his hand from covering his mouth and his face became serious.

"What were you two talking about earlier? I heard my name being tossed around a lot. You can't keep gossiping behind my back like this!"

"Oh... earlier? We weren't gossiping. Satoru was boasting to me about how soft your lips felt on his cheek." Suguru said.

"Boasting? You seem jealous." you said.

"Don't prod at me now just because you think I'm jealous."

"I will absolutely prod at you." you teased.

"I'd rather you kiss me." he said.

"What?"

"What?"

You looked at each other for a moment.

"Not like... on the lips." he backtracked.

"Oh."

"Satoru said I should ask you for a cheek kiss because I claimed he was exaggerating how soft your lips are."

"Well... he's not exaggerating." you teased.

"Oh yeah? I need proof."

"What kind of proof, Suguru?"

"Kiss me."

So you kissed his cheek very slowly.

He felt the press of your lips, and how damn soft they were, and thought to himself;

Shit. Her lips really are as soft as Satoru said they were.

When you pulled away, you asked "So? Are they as soft as Satoru claimed?"

"Soft enough." he teased.

"Soft "enough"?! What does that mean?"

"Soft enough to make me feel that "spark" again." he said.

"Huh?"

"Huh?"

You looked at each other with wide eyes.

Satoru made a wakeful noise.

「うるさい。」 he mumbled, then snuggled into you like you were his pillow.

"Oh. We woke the cat." Suguru joked. 「おい、バカ。あなたは映画全体を通して寝ていました。」

「残念な。」 Satoru replied and let out a sleepy sigh.

"Okay, let's get to bed... it's late."

© arminsumi

I do not permit the copying/reposting/translation/plagiarism of my works. Do not steal what I've worked hard to create.

This is fictional work.

★ Tags

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Thank you for enjoying the story 💗

[petew21-blog]

Family swap: Boys just wanna have fun!

My name is Robert Philip Cornell. I come from a very succesful family of lawyers. And in order to honor my family's legacy I continued in this tradition. Therefore I hope that one of my sons, preferably both, will continue this path as well. Unfortunately my twins, Richard and Philip, are very much like me and their mother. Inteligent, very good looking and thanks to our wealth, powerful. And they know how to use that. But sometimes I wonder if they should appreciate our legacy more than they do now. If you asked me right now and I answered that they were high, drunk or fucking someone, I'd definitely hit atleast one of the three if not all of them.

I was in Johannesburg to help close a company I represent a great deal. After signing we ended having a few coctails and then I left the group to my hotel room. Suddenly a WhatsApp message came to my mobile phone. From my wife Anna

"I'm sorry for interupting your meeting. Call me asap when you're free. It's the boys"

Oh god. What now? I dialed my wife's phone number

Anna:"Hey love. How was the meeting?"

Robert:"Hi, all went well. What's happening?"

Anna:"Philip took the boat. Richard covered him and as soon as the boat left the harbour he followed him. They just wanted to trick me. So now they're once again having a party on the sea, absolutely high as always. I just hope the cost guard will be understanding once again"

Robert:"Honey. I know you mean well with them, but I think it's time"

Anna:"Robert no. You can't be serious. Don't you remember what happened with your father and you when you two did this? Your father wanted to 'teach you a lesson', then you spent a shit ton of money and almost destroyed his reputation."

Robert:"And look where it got me. I know that the boys will understand eventually"

Anna:"So what are you gonna do? It wouldn't be fair to swap only one of them and there isn't another male figure left in your family to swap them with"

Robert:"I wasn't thinking of a male figure to be honest"

Anna:"Are you crazy? One of my sons in my FEMALE body? Robert, I don't think I'm comfortable with that. I can't imagine one of them treating my body decently"

Robert:"I am not happy with one of them ruining my image too or even treating my and yours body, but I believe that they will learn the lesson soon enough. Besides, wouldn't you wanna take those two teen hormonal bodies for a spin?"

Anna:"You're a tease Robert... when?"

Robert:"How about right now? I am in a hotel room. So let's say, Richard can try to get out of South Africa back home and Philip now can try to figure out and stress alone in your body on an island, how to get their original bodies back"

Anna:"Robert... you're evil. Then I am looking forward to see you in a minute"

Robert:"See you soon, my love"

A few minutes passed since Robert wanted to write down some instructions and so did Anna

Richard and Philip were on a yacht, blasting music and approaching the beach of the city they were headed to. Suddenly a text message sound. Philip opened the message first. It said:"Since you boys want to be on your own and enjoy everything life has to offer, we give you our bodies to take care of and with them the duties of maintaining our family image. Yes, you now have to work, yes you have to provide for the family. And yes, one of you will be a female. Treat our bodies with respect and we will do the same."

Philip:"Dude is dad tripping? What the hell is that?"

Richard:"I think I'm too high for this, bro"

A very nauseating feeling that didn't originate from the waves of the sea sweat through the two teens. Both trying hard not to vomit

Richard's P.O.V.

The feeling passed. There was a bright artificial light around him and he felt water coming down his chest. Wait what? How did he get in the shower? Was he that high that he didn't even remember the boat landing, the party or anything?

Richard looked down on his chest

"What the fuck?!?" a deep voice echoed the walls of the shower

"Philip? Did you bleach my chest hair? They're grey you fucker. And what the hell happened to my voice? I sound like dad."

I wasn't paying much attention to myself and what was actually happening. I just took a towel, exitted the shower and tried to find out where the hell I was. I looked around and couldn't find much. It was a pretty normal hotel room, on the bed I saw my fathers briefcase and his clothes. There was a note on the bed:"Wanted to hand you everything clean and ready. BEHAVE and don't ruin my body! Love, dad"

"What the actual fuck is this?"

The reality was starting to him the. The text message, the note, the chest hair. I was scared to look in the mirror, but there was no other way of knowing

"You son of a bitch!" he really did it. My new reflection wasn't the one I was used to, but seemed like my much older one and a but distorted along with a beard. My father is a very handsome man, I have to give him that. But it is very different from the point of view of his son. Your parents aren't suppose to be hot, they're disgusting to you no matter how they look. Yet here I was standing, watching my father's muscular, grey-haired torso. His veins on his biceps. His piercing eyes that I knew very precisely, cause these ones were the ones that raised me. The ones that always seemed the most disappointed.

But now. I was behind these eyes. And my father did this to me on purpose. He wanted to give me another life lesson. "You know what dad? Fuck you!"

I dropped the towel I put around my waist before to reveal a hairy flacid dick. Ew, I never thought I would see my father's dick from this point of view. We'll here we are. But it's not bad to be honest. Might give it a little trim and the chicks would dig it.

I took a second before doing that to really think hard. I had to look away from the mirror causing watching my father jerk off wasn't something I would get off to daily. But watching this nice cock get hard in my hands as I was palying with these hairy balls and the foreskin, that was something. Looking down I was really proud. I am still muscular, I look amazing and I got a nice dick. Doesn't matter what dad does to me. I'll enjoy this punishment.

I grabbed my new dick hard. I squeezed it until I felt pain. And then I started jerking it. I spit in my hand and played with the head, almost instantly. I stopped and resumed jerking. I was hairy everywhere. I wasn't used to that. I wasn't even thinking about this body as my father's anymore.

My right hand was curious enough to get into the jungle between my buttcheeks. And what a jungle it is. I spit into that hand as well.

"Sorry, daddy. Boys just wanna have fun"

I pushed one finger inside. I could that this body has never experinced that. I'll enjoy that even more. I pushed in another finger and then kept on pushing until I couldn't. I felt my new prostate. So sensitive! I pushed and pulled. Almost forgetting to jerk off at the same time. I got in sync and could only scream in pleasure. I was so close. I could feel the sensation building up. If I were in my body I would stop to take care of the mess in time. But I didn't care. I let it pour outside off me. The cum got into my chest hair and on my abs. I let out a sight of relief

Collapsed on the bed, I noticed dad's phone lighting up. Mom was calling. Wait, is it really mom or is Philip also swapped? I gotta know. I took the phone to my ear and answered

Philip:"Those fuckers. What are we gonna do about them?"

Richard:"I don't know about you, but I just had the best orgasm in my life"

Philip:"You're so disgusting Rich, that's our fathers body, you know that?"

Richard:"Yeah, but that didn't stop me. And I don't think you should stop either. The women say that their orgasm is so much more intense, so now you'll know"

Philip:"I don't know if I am ok with that. It's our mother's pussy, bro"

Richard:"Yeah and? I just fingered our father ass. Suck it up big boy. I'll send you a location. I'll take a plane and we'll meet there?"

Philip:"You're nasty bro. See you there I guess. Wait, wait do you know what is this tiny weird thing sticking out at the top of the vagina?"

I packed my fahter's things and set off to meet my bro, or wife?. I went to the local mall and slightly altered my visage. Do you think they'll let me inside of the plane like this? Oh and one tiny request I gotta send to our butler

Robert and Anna's P.O.V.

Anna:"I must admit, Robert, I haven't felt so full off energy in ages!"

Robert:"That might be the drugs the boys took, haha"

Anna:"No, seriously. The boys got great bodies, but our bodies aren't as much vital as these ones. We have to go do something!"

Robert:"How about we continue in the plans that the boys had? Might be fun"

We arrived to an empty beach with no one in sight.

Robert:"Did you check the coordinates?"

Anna:"Sorry, dear but I am still very high. I am still surprised we didn't crash the boat"

Robert:"Haha. It's so funny to see Philip call me honey. Haha, jesus. I think I am still also high"

Anna:"Wanna maybe lie down here and just... chill. Or how do the kids these days call it?"

Robert:"Haha. 'Kids these days'. Philip looks like a nostalgic senior now"

Anna in Philip's body laughed. "Yeah and what are you? A teen king who knows all the trends?" she ran up to him and pushed him on the ground

Both boys's bodies still very high. They very playfully fighting in the sand. Rolling around, like two teenage boys would

Suddenly Anna planted Robert a kiss. Robert was shocked and stared at her not returning it

Anna:"I still see you as you. I don't care what bodies we're in. Even if we were worms I'd ¹still love you"

Robert:"Anna, I... don't think I can do this"

Anna grabbed Robert's new hard dick and looked back at him:"Then don't think at all. Just love me"

Anna kissed him again and this time Robert kissed back. He felt the love his wife had for him and kissed the another boys body back.

The two identical boys now with their hands all over their bodies. Exploring each other as if it were a mirror. A mirror that they made out. A mirror that they were caressing and pressing their hard dick against.

Ther dicks were out. Anna in Philip's body just laughed as she felt her husband sucking her dick:"I understand why you always beg me. This is so goood. Keep going!"

Robert didn't believe what he was doing, but he couldn't really keep thinking that or else he would go mad. Sucking his son's dick was definitely not on his bucket list.

Robert got into a 69 position. Twins giving each other the same pleasure. What a sight for horny eyes.

They didn't talk. They were mouthful, so there was no room for talking. Each gagging on each others dick. Giving pleasure to the other one. Thursting and enjoying the same feeling from the other. They were close very close. And they both came almost at the same time. They got some perfecting to do.

They were in each other's arms, naked on the beach sand. Enjoying the view of the other one. Just smiling at each other.

And just then, the family Butler arrived with security to the beach.

Nigel:"Good afternoon gentlemen. I have strickt orders from your parents to transport you back to your house and to enroll you back into high school. You have your senior year to finish and you have to pass all your exams. Your parents also gave a strict rule of no alcohol, no drugs and no visits in your home. Shall we leave?"

Robert to Anna:"Oh that's what I forgot. Fuck, Richard is good. This is gonna be very good for him. I think he'll be the next one to continue."

Anna:"Did you just hear what Nigel said, honey?"

Robert:"All I heard was that I will spend a lot off tíme together with the love of my life. I don't care how painful it will be. We get to be young again and together. And don't forget that the boys share bedroom, honey." I saw Anna blushing and smile as she opened the car door.

Richard a Philip's P.O.V.

Philip:"Are you sure we're safe like this?"

Richard:"Yeah, bro. They're gonna have to go to high school and all. Nigel already has them at home. We get to live no without nagging"

Philip:"Yeah, so amazing to have no nagging, but If you haven't noticed I am the one with mums pussy."

Richard:"And I bet it's hungry for dick"

Philip:"Why on earth didn't they swap you into mum instead of me. I'm not even bi. I won't enjoy the sex as much as you will"

Richard;"Ok, I promile that tonight I'll show you that you're now definitely on the spectrum and that I now have a magnificent dick that will make you very happy"

Philip:"Fine. So, we gonna party now or what?"

Richard:"The festival hasn't even started yet and you wanna party already. I think we're now the oldest people here dude."

Philip:"Well then let's show them how older people party!"

An inbox story that I played with a tiny bit :D

Could you write a story about parents swapping bodies with their twin kids since they don’t behave. Now the parents in the boys body must go to school and enjoy their youth while the boys in their parents bodies have to give to work and be responsible.

If you haven't seen your story yet, don't worry I got a lot of them in the inbox, some of them are partially written in the drafts and are now just waiting for me to have more time and be horny enough to finish them 😈

[darcylindbergh]

I have no idea what Harris' actual views on I/P are, but even if she is fully pro-Palestine wouldn't she still have to meet with Netanyahu? I mean realistically any change the US can possibly make would have to involve talking to Israel, right? Presidents meet with Putin even if they hate him/Russia's actions because that's how international politics works, it doesn't mean they like/agree with him

Well, theoretically, there's a bit of political game playing involved yes. But because the ICC has issued warrants for Netanyahu's arrest, if we're strictly following international law, Netanyahu shouldn't have been meeting anybody, he should have been arrested. But we're not doing that because the US currently thinks the ICC is wrong, which is a bad look for the US and which undermines the strength of international law, so I think this is bad and also wrong, but that's what's happening at present. And although US presidents etc have historically met with Putin, they would not at this point because Putin also has warrants out for his arrest. The difference between how the US has treated Putin v Netanyahu is, as it seems, pretty hypocritical.

Practically speaking, as you say, meeting with Netanyahu is a bit of a political game. The US has historically been a very strong ally to Israel and the US has historically been very much involved in the normalization of relations vis a vis Israel and the rest of the Middle East, and the US would very much like to remain involved in brokering a lasting peace, which involves not seriously alienating Netanyahu and Israel et al. Netanyahu and his far-right government are the ones holding up the ceasefire, and the US is only able to exert pressure so long as they are a valuable ally to Israel - if Israel has nothing to lose, in other words, the US loses its ability to exert pressure. And Harris wants very much to hang onto that ability, because she's setting herself up to exert more pressure than Biden has.

Harris has been critical of Israel. Harris is the highest-ranking Dem that has been critical of the situation in Gaza. She has been upfront about highlighting the suffering in Gaza. She's not oblivious to the conversations going on re: Palestine and the ongoing genocide. She's not sticking her head in the sand on it.

“The images of dead children and desperate hungry people fleeing for safety, sometimes displaced for the second, third or fourth time - we cannot look away in the face of these tragedies. We cannot allow ourselves to become numb to the suffering and I will not be silent.”

But she's trying to walk a very careful line on public sentiment re: Israel and Palestine. She's going to be very cautious to condemn anything with even a whiff of antisemitism in strong terms. She's going to be very cautious to affirm Israel's right to exist and to defend itself, which she does in the article linked above, with the caveat that "how it does so matters." But her willingness to call attention to the crisis ongoing in Gaza and her willingness to imply wrong-doing by Israel in how that crisis has been created signals to Netanyahu that her government will have stronger limits than Netanyahu has encountered previously. Will she be a perfect candidate? No. Will she always align with my moral compass? No. Will she be totally evil? Also no.

As voters, what does this mean for us and how we support Gazans and Palestinians?

To me this is very simple. Harris is a candidate who is willing and able to exert pressure on Israel to end the genocide and, ideally, to broker a long-lasting peace. Trump is a candidate who is willing and able to exert pressure on Israel to blow Gaza off the face of the earth. Between "willing to tell Netanyahu this is unacceptable" and "willing to tell Netanyahu to break out a nuke," I'm voting for the former every fucking time.

Not voting or voting third party doesn't actually tell Democrats anything except that you didn't care. They don't have a list of people who would otherwise have voted blue if only they'd taken harder pro-Palestine stance, they're not cross-checking your voting status against your social media posts and going, oh, nuts, we lost that one. Not voting or voting third party doesn't exert pressure on the Dems to go more left, you're not "teaching them a lesson," you're not making a point. It's non-information. It's not a boycott - it's a white flag. It's giving up.

You know how you exert pressure on politicians? You call. You write. You protest. Are you still calling your representatives about Gaza every day? Are you going to town halls and asking them about what they're doing to stop the genocide? Pressure is exerted through participation.

Progress is made by the people who show up.

If the Dems lose, you can pressure them all day and it won't make a difference because they don't have any power to make a difference. And the racist, anti-Muslim, anti-Middle East far right won't be listening no matter how much you shout.

I'm not giving up on Palestinians just because some greyface anon on the internet tells me I'm a bad person for choosing to vote for the candidate I can pressure to make a change.

I'm also not going to give up on people here at home who's lives are hanging in the balance. I'm a queer woman with a uterus and a pre-existing condition - I simply do not have the luxury or the privilege to stay home in November. I do not have the luxury or the privilege of being a single issue voter. I'm not going to give up on trans kids or immigrants or BIPOC or women or disabled folks or poor folks. I'm not going to give up on healthcare or on libraries or on public schools or on the environment or on the court systems. I'm not going to give up on safe workplaces and livable wages and safe products. I'm not going to give up and let corporate monopolies and censorship and AI and five rich dudes decide what the future will be.

Don't you care? Don't you look around you and care about the people in your own communities? Or are those people too real, too complicated? Do you only care when you can win points off it in someone else's inbox on tumblr dot com?

Is Kamala Harris going to be the perfect pro-Palestinian candidate? No. But I'm not inviting her to brunch. I don't need her to be my bestie. I don't need her to be my moral compass - I have one of my own, thanks.

I just need her to step forward instead of back.

Progress is made one step at a time.

[ladykailitha]

Slipping on my evil author gloves and cracking my knuckles before diving in!

It's post-season 4 (with the canon divergence of Eddie living) and Steve and Eddie are falling in love while they figure out how to destroy Vecna for good.

But there are moments when it's quiet at night Steve will hear someone shouting his name.

"--TEVE!"

But it's always garbled like static over the walkie or shouts underwater. And every time Eddie pulls him close and whispers that it's just a nightmare. No one is calling him, everyone is safe.

They defeat Vecna and Eddie and Steve make plans to leave Hawkins together.

But when Steve arrives a little early at the trailer, he finds that Eddie was just going to slip away without telling him.

Eddie laughs. Tells him that no one wants him around. The kids will get driver's licenses and won't need rides anymore. Robin will run off with Nancy to Emerson and he'll be left all alone. Like he deserves to be.

But as Eddie starts laughing, Steve can hear the yelling again.

"Get the tape out his tape deck in his car!"

Steve is frowning. Who's tape deck?

Eddie notices the little confused frown and mockingly tells him that he was just too dim to notice that everyone secretly hated him.

Suddenly the air is filled with music.

Soldier boy, made of clay Now an empty shell Twenty one, only son But he served us well Bred to kill, not to care Do just as we say Finished here, greetings death He's yours to take away

Eddie's face transforms from mocking to enraged. His body starts shaking and convulsing. There is a strange after image and Steve takes a step back.

Vecna appears and Steve turns around. In the doorway of the trailer is the real Eddie and behind him is Steve's bedroom. He doesn't even look back, he starts running.

His back erupts in pain multiple lines burning all the way down.

****

Eddie walks into the Harrington mansion cautiously. He's never just strolled right in without Steve calling out to him.

But his car is here and none of the kids have heard from in 24 hours and even Robin is freaking out. Steve was supposed to work that morning, but never showed.

Two things that Steve would never do.

He starts searching the house but comes up empty. He's standing in the main hallway rubbing his chin when he hears it. Whimpering.

Eddie storms up the stairs and throws open the bedroom door. Steve is on the bed, complete asleep but clutching the sheets as he tosses and turns.

Eddie grabs the walkie and screams code red! And tells everyone to get their asses to Steve's ASAP.

Everyone who could get there arrives within minutes.

"I can't wake him!" Eddie screams as everyone stumbles into the bedroom.

Everyone tries what they can to wake him, but nothing.

Then El comes bursting through the door. "It's Vecna!"

"Why would Vecna target Steve?" Dustin asks and everyone glares at him. "What? I'm not saying he's not important or whatever, but..." he waves at El, Nancy, and Will. "Like."

Eddie growls and screams. "Get the tape out his tape deck in his car!" He turns to Robin. "Where does he keep his Walkman?"

Robin ran for his top drawer and handed it to him.

Dustin wasn't back yet.

"Dustin!" Robin screams as everyone else watches in silent vigil.

Dustin comes scrambling up the stairs and hands it to Eddie.

"Why is it a Metallica tape?" he says softly.

Eddie jams it into the Walkman and hits play. He places the headphones over Steve's ears and holds his hand as he waits. He was about to say he didn't care what the tape was when the song starts playing. The volume up as loud as it could be.

"Shit."

"Eddie?" El asks, tilting her head to the side.

Eddie and Dustin share a glance of just shattered emotions.

"It's called Disposable Heroes, El," Mike whispers.

Suddenly the air is still and growing stale with each passing moment as they all take in the meaning of that.

Then Steve comes to, gasping and crying. Suddenly he's covered in bodies as they all desperately try to hug him all at once.

Eddie gets close and whispers, "You are loved, Steve Harrington and tell Vecna he made a mistake targeting you. We will come for him with a fierceness like the of a fire storm."

El grins. "Done."

[zahri-melitor]

The Candlelight Oath:

For reference I am collating every occasion I can think of that the candle oath comes up, particularly in terms of the wording of it. I know I'm skipping over some but I'm also restricted in terms of how many images I can have.

"-And swear that we two will fight together against crime and corruption and never to swerve from the path of righteousness!" "I swear it!"

(Detective Comics #38)

"Swear that you will fight against crime and corruption...and never swerve from the path of right!" "I swear it!"

(Batman #213)

"If you're to be my partner, you must swear you'll avenge their deaths by devoting your life to warring on all criminals!"

(Detective Comics #484)

"Swear that you will fight against crime and corruption -- and never swerve from the path of justice!" "I swear it!"

(Untold Legend of Batman #2)

"--I knew I wanted to be exactly like him: a sworn avenger in the cause of justice!"

(Secret Origins #13 1986)

"Batman and Robin." I made a promise to my parents that I would rid the city of the evil that took their lives. That remains unchanged. Only now...I am no longer alone.

(Batman: Dark Victory #13)

"Think, Bruce, you remember--'to fight against crime and corruption, and never swerve from the path of justice...?'"

(Batman: Gotham Knights #11)

"But then I took an oath. To carry on in my parents' memory and the legacy Batman had created. From that light I watched our world grow..."

(Dark Crisis #1)

"This is the beginning of a new life, son. Of service to others. Of helping." "I--I am...I vow to help...to make the world a better place. And I swear that I will fight against crime and corruption...and never swerve from--" "The path of righteousness."

(Batman #138 2016)

I love the words. I love the echoes and repeats and the patterns of what people use and where they focus their attention.

Also I die over Zdarsky's version actually, it's one of the best of all, especially as it has Dick saying the words himself, rather than swearing to affirm Bruce's words.

Some of the early ones are so very heavy with exposition: Detective Comics #484 is hilarious in terms of going"'your parents died! as did mine! Let's swear to fight crime to avenge their deaths!" Good job there, Bruce. That's the level of subtle also heavily noted in the time you asked Tim if you could adopt him and started with "your parents are dead. You have no one."

It's interesting in terms of its placement, because the oath almost always comes when Bruce first takes Dick back to the Cave as Batman, and reveals his identity. Before Robin. Before Dick begins training. During the hunt for Zucco.

But it's so important to both Bruce and Dick, and echoes for both of them. It's a password that they use. And Dick's memorised it, as if he's said it many times in remembrance of the first occasion.

[heavenlymorals]

Biblical References in Both RDR games.

I love biblical references so much. When it comes to literature, it's probably my favorite type of symbolism. Like I genuinely get so happy when I connect things to the Bible which is what I'm going to do right now 😊😊 I also like the way that religion is incorporated into RDR as a whole, including the main characters' reaction to it.

So yup, here are just a few references or connections that I was able to make in no particular order.

Also, some of these are complete reaches and I'm aware of that, but fuck it, it's my blog and I do what I want 💪🏼

- The character and tragedy of Issac. In the Bible, Issac is the child of Abraham who is asked to be sacrificed by God by his father as a test of faith. God eventually intervenes to save Issac because he only wanted to test Abraham's faith. Dutch is shown as a God-like figure to the gang, as their devotion is to him. Arthur, indirectly, sacrifices Issac by not being there and by following what Dutch wanted. Arthur, Issac, and Dutch are parallels to Abraham, Issac, and God.

- Leviticus is the book that comes after the book of Exodus. After the gang's escape or exodus from Blackwater after the Blackwater massacre, they are met by Leviticus Cornwall, who becomes the next obstacle for the gang. After the gang's exodus, they get in trouble with Leviticus.

- The image of the deer and a mountain. Psalm 18:32-34 in the Bible says, "It is God who arms me with strength, and makes my way blameless? He makes my feet like deers' feet, and sets me upon my high places." In Arthur's condemnation of Dutch, Micah, and their evil, he becomes steady in his identity and beliefs, like a deer's feet on a mountain, which is where he dies in the end. W symbolism.

- The mission "Sodom? Back to Gomorrah." In the Bible, Sodom and Gomorrah were two cities that were so morally depraved and evil that God decided to destroy the both of them, saying that if there was even one good person in those cities, he'd spare them, but there weren't. In those missions, you also do two evil acts, going from one and then BACK to the other. You rob the bank and then go BACK to collect the debt from Edith Downes. So you finish one evil deed and to straight to the next. This can also show how morally bankrupt Arthur's apathy made him at this point in the game.

- Micah's guns say "Vengeance is hereby mine." This could be a reference to Roman's 12:19 "vengeance is mine sayeth the Lord." Micah's violent nature makes him take his anger out on the world.

- "Your father is seduced by him with the forked tongue. It's no use hoping." The blind prophet to Arthur. Pretty straight forward symbolism, it's a nod to the snake that seduced Eve, just like how Micah manipulates Dutch.

- Dutch walking away from Arthur when he dies and though he realizes his wrong doing and feels shame, his pride forbids him from apologizing or saying he was wrong. This can be a parallel to how Adam and Eve run away from God when they feel shame over believing in the snake, but their pride won't allow them to apologize to God, hence damning them like how Micah damned Dutch.

- There were twelve ACTIVE gang members before the Blackwater massacre. When I mean active, I mean gang members who are canonically consistent (so not uncle, Swanson, Strauss, or the girls) on going on jobs for the gang. Micah, Bill, Javier, John, Hosea, Arthur, Charles, Sean, Lenny, Josiah, Mac and Davey Callender. Christ had 12 disciples and Dutch is portrayed as a savior to the gang, or a Christ like figure. And would you look at that, there is a traitor in both groups of twelve (Micah and Judas).

- Both John and Arthur's graves have scripture from Jesus's sermon on the mountain (Matthew 5:1-12). John's is blessed are the peacemakers and Arthur's is blessed are those who hunger and thirst for righteousness.

- The go back for the money ending. If you go back for the money and have low honor, you'll see that the camp is engulfed in flames as you try to get the money. The fight with Micah is brutal and you die faced down in the dark. This death is an allegory for going to either hell and purgatory as you choose a final evil act of leaving your brother to possibly die just so you can get money as an act of revenge. If you have high honor, you are still surrounded by flames, but you still have a chance at heaven given that you die facing up seeing the light one final time.

- The help John ending has similar connotations. If you have low honor, you die by gunshot and are shrouded in darkness, which can symbolize the absence of God's light and how Arthur's final act couldn't absolve the lack of guilt he feels for the rest of the actions that he KNOWS are evil (click here for a my interpretation of Arthur's morality). In high honor, though, you get to crawl to the mountain side and see the rising sun, symbolizing heaven, warmth, and a new purity.

- In low honor, the coyote goes down to a dark cave, representing damnation and the rejection of holy light. In high honor, the deer steps into a heavenly field of light. Love that so much to be honest.

- Just the very Catholic vibe of Arthur's redemption. Doing good deeds, feeling guilt, all that.

- John's new life is basically this: "Let him who stole steal no longer, but rather let him labor, working with his hands what is good, that he may have something to give him who has need." -Ephesians 4:28. John gives up his old life to be an honest laborer, a rancher, and a proper man.

- The Strange Man in RDR rides on a donkey, which is pretty interesting because Jesus Christ also made his grand entry on a donkey.

- Just the Strange Man in general to be honest. Some say he's God, others say he's the Devil, and others say he's Cain from the Bible, which is my personal favorite theory but whatever.

- Dutch's horse could be a reference to Revelations 6:8- "And I looked, and behold, a pale horse! And its rider's name was Death, and Hades followed him." Dutch's rash actions caused the death of the gang and RDR's incarnate of Hades or Hell was Micah, following him. Dutch is the only one, canonically, to have a pale horse.

- "Am I prepared for eternal damnation? Am I passed any kind of saving? Or is that just fairy tales?" Arthur in his journal. I love this line so much because of its very agnostic nature whilst still showing the Christian mindset of 1899 America. This line also shows that Arthur is canonically agnostic which is a yippee from me because it's like the only thing me and this man have in common lmao 😭

- "Bad news awaits you, sir. Sadly, sooner than you think. But beyond the news, paradise awaits. Paradise.." Blind Man Cassidy to Arthur. Sorry but I just love that. High honor Arthur lived such an awful life but he still has a chance at paradise and heaven? Love that so much.

- God (pun intended), I love biblical symbolism. Couldn't you tell?

[soulrph]

chaotic unhinged lines from 2022-2023 (prompt edition).

basically in 2021 i made a list of prompts inspired by lines in tiktok videos and instagram reels that made me laugh so hard i cried! and now i have returned with another list! these may provide an alarmingly clear image of what my sense of humor is (aka broken) but i figure a little levity is always a good thing! more prompts are forthcoming, but in the mean time: bon appetit!

knowledge has always chased you, but you've always been faster.

no... no, that was mango apathy juice. from the farmer's market.

of all these people, you are the one i understand the least. i want to get to know you better, but like, not that much better.

i-i will CHEW YOUR MEAT!! WHAT are you doing?!

ooooh god, no, you wouldn't be long getting frostbit!

you are evil. like a hobbit.

WHY MUST YOU FAIL ME SO OFTEN?!?!!?

i have had a perfectly wonderful evening, but this wasn't it.

AHEM!! fill my cup.

may god ignore you like you ignored my greetings.

i will avenge you mister van gogh.

call off work bestie, we need you to solve a murder. here's fifteen dollars.

you're not in love. you may think you are, you dumb fuck, but you're not.

go ahead and put the ranch away.

sadly, "hopefully" doth butter no parsnips.

forget school, i want to be an italian sandwich.

you shouldn't skip work, you are a lawyer and he is a hamster.

you can stop roleplaying now. you're free.

her coupon game was so fucking raw.

i'm sorry guys... he's making a salad.

you could get a straight guy here if you learned to make a good pasta. i'll teach you how to make a risotto that'll get you married and out of my basement.

hey, do you want me to get together a plate of roast beef and hide it in our room so we can have night meats?

it's not the most ethical thing in the world, but in a pinch you can hand off a cursed object to basically any baby.

no, children, you're wrong. once upon a time, there was a piece of wood.

and i'm not saying she deserved it, but i am saying that god's timing is always riiiiight.

hydrate or die-drate, ya DICK!

why did the monkey fall out of the tree? because it was DEAD.

new york city is a fictional place written up by someone with a sinister mind and a knack for comedy.

this is grindr my guy.

wait, i didn't finish teaching you the difference between human and wolf anatomy.

it's time to tell your grandmother that she was wrong. do not be afraid.

vanilla vodka... you fucking child.

without ash to rise from, a phoenix would just be a bird getting up.

you are fucking alive. do what you want.

why are you cradling me like a baby, friend? this isn't how guys of my generation hang out.

i hope a hedgehog shits in your cereal, you difficult person.

you know, i am not as mean as i would like to be. and i think people should appreciate that more.

see, i am not a kangaroo.

well, i'd like to help, but... you see... not as much as i'd like not to.

rest in peace you fucking onion fairy.

when god sings with all his creations, will a turtle not be part of the choir?

i fight for a seat in heaven, every. single. day.

map maker? can you find me somewhere on the map where this big man thinks he's the king?

you bald-headed demon...

so... there are 24 million pigs in australia... and 24 million people... so if you ever feel lonely, there's like, a pig out there that's sort of your cosmic twin.

remember, alcohol is god's apology for making us self-aware.

i'm straight!! stop CONFUSING me!!!!!

you guys want something to eat? because... i know we'll die if we don't eat.

he is a BIBLICALLY gorgeous man. i wanna feed him grapes. i wanna fan him with the frond of a date palm from the forests of Lebanon. i wanna find the alabaster vial of perfume oil that one woman broke for jesus and comb it through his hair. like... he's stressing me OUT.

i'm not sad! i'm freaking HUNGRY!

maybe, if we wait a little bit longer, a fuck will fall into my hand, and i can give it to you.

it's not my fault you thought you lived in this IKEA.

let's leave my mother out of this.

jason may kill people but he's not bad enough to kick a dog.

i run for LUMP!

oh no, i'm all out of caring, baby!

you don't think it mcbe that way... but it mcdo.

what is this enticing bowl of white?

serious question, do his nipples sparkle?

what in the reese's peanut butter fuck is going on here?

if your parents don't buy it, stop loving them!

i just hope you know just how much you've decreased productivity today.

that was poetry at its FINEST.

and if you let that motherfucker shenan ONCE, you best believe they're gonna shenanIGAN!

may god bless the dinosaur that died to make the fossil fuel that was treated to become petrol in the car that took her mom to the hospital to give birth to her.

that's modern milk for ya. what a time to be alive.

you have attachment issues. please fix it.

remember when people had secrets? we should bring that back.

the moon landing was an elaborate marriage proposal.

i don't like the cobra chicken.

i didn't know eggs were this expensive? it's time to lay my own, i fear.

so you're saying the reason i don't have a girlfriend is because i'm not a big enough threat yet.

god gave him a top lip, that's why he's so powerful.

it's a common mistake, but frankenstein was actually the author.

i finally got a pocket-sized diary!!! also i don't get the concept of life.

if a beautiful woman disagrees with me, i will immediately change my view. i've no principles.

how did you all end up married to such boiled potatoes?

if so much as one tear drops from their eye... i will slap you back into your mum.

you are ringing a phone that does not like to be rung.

look how Dr. doofenschmirtz had a fucked up childhood but didn't project his trauma onto his teenage daughter. he projected it onto a platypus.

it is mathematically impossible for you to get a wedgie.

i'm breaking up with you. i love you, it's just... i don't think you could protect me from a mummy.

if you can't do fractions....... you will fucking die.

that's right; in the year 1791, all of our bottoms were killed in a Big Bottom Massacre.

people always assume i'm mean. like CAN you BELIEVE THAT CRAP?! like WHAT would make you think i'm MEAN?! I'M THE NICEST PERSON ON THE PLANET!

the chocolate milk is strikingly overpriced and at the same time very easy to steal; another of god's little tests.

someone's gotta tell the waiter that i ordered mashed 'taters and it sure as shit ain't gonna be me.

if i had a week i couldn't list all the reasons that wouldn't work.

[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?”