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[ejointech]

[macfrog]

jet

🎉 thank u guys so much for 1k followers 🎉 i don’t know how we got here but i love you all endlessly and can’t thank you enough for all the love n support. here’s some smutty joel to celebrate 🤩 this might become something, it might not. i dunno. wanted to try it out tho. lmk your thoughts ✨

pairing: joel miller x fem!reader

summary: you and joel have an agreement: follow his movements, follow his orders, stay alive. what happens when, one night, he asks you to break the deal?

warnings: 18+ (minors dni!!!) post-outbreak!joel, pining i guess?? when don't i pine for this man, praise kink, light bondage, fingering, unprotected p in v sex (don't u dare), creampie, dom!joel, soft!joel, age gap (late 20s reader, late 40s joel), cursing, cute horsies

word count: 6.9k

main masterlist

Somewhere between Missouri and Illinois, last time you checked. Joel has the map, and you don’t bother asking him to see it much. You’ve been following the Mississippi north, on his orders, looking to hit St. Louis sometime tomorrow. Provided you don’t run into any trouble, that is.

It’s been three days with no safe refuge. Camping out in deserted houses with wood for windowpanes, stores infested with rats, office buildings with infected roaming. Joel figures the outskirts of the city are a good spot to stop for a couple nights, regain your strength, find supplies.

You’re a few paces ahead of him, only turning your head slightly when you notice an offramp, and looking back ahead when he doesn’t give any direction. You weave in and out of abandoned cars, hips swaying with the clipping of your horse’s hooves on broken asphalt, Joel’s horse in time at your heels.

You’d untethered the pair of them on a farm back in Nebraska. Joel had told you to stay put while he cleared the house, but you’d wandered over to the field when you spotted them. Timid, skittish, starving.

Five minutes hooked over the fence and they were both eating grass you’d pulled from the earth, right out of your hand. Joel’s heavy footsteps approaching had spooked them back a few steps, but you’d petted their muzzles and when he did the same, they soon warmed to him, too.

He’d jerked his head in a nod and muttered, “Good job,” before finding two saddles, strapping them on, and helping you onto the chestnut brown one – who you’d named Jet.

Joel had found tins of food in the farmhouse, and a switchblade for you to carry. He had a new stain on his shirt.

“Infected?” you asked.

He grunted in reply. Then rolled the tins into his backpack and hoisted himself onto his own horse, giving her reins a tug.

You knew that meant that yeah, there’d been infected inside. And recent, too, going by how well-kept the horses looked. It can’t have been longer than a week.

Joel’s silence as you both wandered down the farm track probably meant that there weren’t just adults in the house, either.

You’d glanced over to him, giving him a small smile. Bent over and reached for his horse’s ears, scratching where her soft black coat met her mane. The reins lay loose around Joel’s knuckles.

Protecting and providing for you was more important than some infected kids in a farmhouse. Joel had made that more than clear over the time you’d been with him. But somewhere, buried deep underneath years of fighting and killing, tucked away under a dusty flannel shirt, you knew his heart was hurting.

That was two weeks ago. Joel hasn’t talked about it, and you’re not interested in bringing it back up. Y’all got to the farm, took everything it had to offer, and you left.

Jet clicks her way along the highway somewhere south of the city. It’s still bright out; Joel reckons probably a few more hours of sunlight, so you know he’ll be scouting for places to camp out soon.

You lean back to stretch your spine, hand steadying yourself on Jet’s rump, her tail swishing as she walks. Her head bobs, looking from left to right, from the trucks with smashed windows sprouting moss, over to the trees losing leaves in the fall breeze.

It’s peaceful. Not much is, these days.

It’s quiet enough that Joel can listen for any sound of oncoming threat, and quiet enough that you can shut your eyes and pretend like you’re on some trail in the Texas country, on a warm summer evening; not exhausted, covered in dirt, weeks since you washed, days since you slept.

You’re humming gently to yourself, imagination taking you down by a creek where Joel pulls you by hand off the horse and you sit down to a picnic or something. He’d bring a basket. Maybe a bottle of wine, or a cheese board. Maybe he lays you back and kisses you on the blanket. Maybe his hand starts to wander up your thigh, skirt ruffling as he goes…

“Not much out here, is there?”

His voice startles you, bursting the seams of your daydream. He isn’t much of a talker, not unless you start it. You sit up straight and give your head a shake, as if dislodging the fantasy from your mind.

You twist around to look at his face; squinting under the bright white sky. Tired, same as you, lined, flecked with years and sun and survival.

“Hm?” he asks when you still don’t reply.

“Not a lot,” you finally say, clearing your throat and turning back to the road.

Finding the horses isn’t the only thing that’d happened two weeks ago.

Joel hadn’t wanted to camp in the farmhouse, hadn’t wanted to have to shift the bodies. Too much effort, or too much for you to see, maybe. You’d protested, heart set on a night’s sleep in an actual bed, but he hadn’t budged.

And you knew not to push him.

The sun was setting, though, so Joel led you down a dirt track toward a barn and burst the padlock. He tied the horses up just inside the door, used bundled up hay as a makeshift mattress upon which he laid out a blanket for you.

He barricaded the door as you lay back, did a walkaround of the place just in case any infected – or worse – were waiting to surprise y’all, and then sat down next to you.

Your head by his thigh, you put a hand on his knee.

“You can lie down, too, y’know.”

He grunted in response, breathing deep and steady.

“Joel.”

You took his shoulder and tried to pull him down to you, but the man is stronger than anyone you’ve ever met, even in his late forties, and you were convinced he’d only pretended to be yanked toward you so as not to hurt your feelings too much.

He remained upright. “Just want to keep watch for a while.”

Joel’s like this when you’re on the road. He’s cautious. On high alert. Always watching ahead, always listening out for whatever he thinks he might hear in the distance. Sometimes you can say something to him and have to give his leg a kick for him to answer you.

You’d sighed and pushed yourself up to lean your bicep against his. He furrowed his brows and scanned you from your jeans to your jaw.

“If you’re up, I’m up,” you told him.

“You need sleep,” he replied flatly.

You shrugged. “So do you.”

“What good is both of us tired?”

You sighed again and shook your head. You weren’t gonna argue with him.

Good thing he didn’t feel much like arguing, either. Ten minutes later he was on top of you, jeans loose on his thighs, head buried in your shoulder, fucking you senseless. Grunting and groaning into your skin.

You’d scored marks into his shoulder blades with your nails that you’re sure, if you peeled back his shirt right now, would still be there.

It’d tired you both out enough that Joel settled with your head on his chest, his hand in your hair, eyes trained on the barn doors. You don’t know if he slept a wink. You never know if he sleeps these days.

Joel hears the hoarseness of your voice and knows that you’re tired, ‘cause he clicks to his horse and she trots up alongside you and Jet. He pulls the map from his backpack. You tilt your head to take a look.

“Keep ridin’ for another hour,” he mumbles. “’m sure we’ll find somewhere soon. Looks like we’re still a little way out of St. Louis.”

You nod, rolling your head back. The cloudy sky burns your corneas as you watch a bird fly overhead. Joel slips the map back into his bag and you feel his hand on your thigh.

“You okay?”

“Mhm. Tired,” you whisper.

“Only a little while longer.” He gives your leg a small squeeze and his hand returns to the reins. He doesn’t fall back, instead, stays ambling along by your side. It feels like company. Feels nice. Feels…normal.

Two weeks is a long fucking time. Especially when your adrenaline peaks on the regular, sometimes multiple times in one day, and you’re alone with Joel all day and all night. Trusting each other, relying on each other. Saving each other time and time again. It was only natural that you began to rely on each other for…more than just survival.

You can’t remember when you found him. It was in the QZ, back when you believed in stability and structure. When you believed in people. Now, the only thing you believed in was Joel. Broken, hurt, shut-off Joel, who’d grumbled an apology when his shoulder brushed yours in the hallway and changed everything.

You like to think you were something new to him, something different. A challenge, maybe. Something worth holding onto, anyway, for reasons he was yet to let you in on.

He had an apartment of his own, with a bed of his own, which was something you weren’t used to. You shared a cramped apartment with Luce, a single mom with a two-year-old. Joel’s was where you went when the tantrums, the screaming in the middle of the night, the ration cards being destroyed either by ripping, by eating, or else by other means, became too suffocating.

Joel didn’t believe in anything or anyone, either. That’s what kept you coming back.

He’d just open his door and step aside to let you in. Barely a word. He’d ask if you’d eaten, and share his plate with you either way. Wordlessly picking away at the same food, making sure you got the last spoonful of soup, the last strip of jerky.

Most nights he’d fuck you until your mind went blank, nothing but the smell of him, feel of him, sound of him. No talking, no kissing, no touching. Just the sound of the bed springs, Joel’s soft groans as he bottomed out inside you. The feel of his hot skin, hips rubbing against the inside of your thighs. The bare, cracked brick walls of his apartment would fade away with each thrust, and then slowly seep back in when your orgasm began to wash away.

You knew it was time-wasting, for both of you. Scratching an itch. But some nights, it felt like more. The nights when he’d be so caught up in what he was doing, so caught up in you, that he’d forget to pull out. The nights his hips would snap messily and suddenly he was spilling inside of you, a deep groan humming against your skin between his teeth.

He wouldn’t care to ask, and you wouldn’t offer the information for free, but you remember every fucking time he did it. Where it’d happened, the position he had you in, how long it took for him to finally peel his body off of yours.

And afterwards, he’d let you sleep with your head on his chest. Let you play with his fingers. Let you talk to him; let you ask questions.

Didn’t mean he answered all of them. Didn’t even mean he answered much. Some, he’d give away more openly than others, but you soon got used to clocking when he was keeping a secret. Make a mental note of it, remember to chip away at it.

He trusted you, though; you knew that. Knew it by the way his fingers knotted safely in your hair, the way he’d lie naked with you until the sun came up. The way his breathing would slow, the way he’d mumble in his sleep.

You never talked to him about the incoherent words he’d breathe – but you could piece them together well enough to understand him better than his waken self would ever reveal.

When you brought up leaving, one rainy night weeks ago, he thought about it maybe twice over. Asked how he was supposed to keep you safe.

You do that already, you told him.

‘s different outside. You don’t understand.

It can’t be any worse than in here.

You’d taken a step forward, and he’d flinched, but allowed you to take his strong jaw in your hands. You tried to form a sentence, and when your throat closed up, eyes flitting between his, he took your wrists and lowered them. The shadow of a rain-spattered window doused in a sickly amber glow across his face.

You’d wanted to kiss him. And had he left your hands where they were just a few seconds longer, you think you might’ve. Joel saw it in your eyes, and stopped it.

Whatever. It had still convinced him. He packed his bag and you snuck down the fire escape the following night. Joel’s fingers were hooked around your belt loop the entire time, keeping your hip in stride with his all the way until you were at least a hundred feet away from the QZ wall.

His other concern was his age. Why someone like you would want to run away with someone like him. Forty-something, graying, past his peak. He has, like, twenty years on you. Once he made some reference about Bruce Springsteen and, when your face blanked, he sighed and took the bridge of his nose between his fingers.

I know who Bruce Springsteen is, asshole, you’d said, just didn’t get that reference.

He’d shaken his head and given you a sly, twisted smirk, then pushed you out the door of the apartment block you guys were searching.

Still, despite the years between you, you have one major thing in common.

You’re both good at getting each other…there.

Joel knows exactly what to do to make you tick. You know exactly how to push him until he does it. It’s in the way you look at him, the way you touch him. Things you say that make his stony eyes flit once down your body, and then you know you’re in.

It’s a little harder to do while on horseback, you gotta admit. The best you can do is look at him, say a sentence or two laced with want and need. Hope that he reads through the lines.

It’s worked a few times, when Joel’s suddenly found a shed or basement you can camp out in and then made it difficult for you to walk for the next couple days.

Right now, you feel too tired to even bat your eyelashes at him, never mind coming up with lines to turn him on. You’ve been on the highway for a few hours by this point, little sign of shelter anywhere nearby. Joel holds his hand out and you bring your horses to a stop in view of a hospital a couple miles ahead.

“That’s gotta be teemin’ with them,” you say, looking over to study his expression.

“Hm,” Joel agrees, and glances to the right.

“What you thinkin’? Sun’s getting lower.”

He takes a deep breath, pulls on the reins. “Know somewhere nearby.”

He heads off the highway with a click of his teeth, and you follow. You shut your eyes, chin burying beneath the collar of your shirt. You’d kinda hoped that he’d offer to clear even a small part of the hospital for you to rest up, maybe more, but you trust him enough to lead you somewhere safer, somewhere quieter.

That trust begins to wear thin, though, when the sun disappears behind the trees, drowning you guys in a low dusk, and the temperature begins to fall. Joel’s using what’s left of the gray light to guide him, slowing down to take a hold of Jet’s reins and line her up with his own horse.

“I thought you said an hour,” you mumble, grip becoming slack on the leather.

“Changed my mind,” he replies. “Almost there.”

Your eyes start to roll with exhaustion, hips aching from the position you’ve been sat in for hours now. It’s not until you notice the silhouette of a tall sign in the clearing, black against the fading purple sky, that you blink yourself awake.

Joel pulls you and Jet off the road to a deserted parking lot, shadowed by a motel. He slows the horses down, listening for any signs of life, leading them to the side of the building.

“Easy,” he whispers, pulling on the reins. Both animals come to a halt.

He slides off the saddle, hitting the ground with a thud. He takes your hands, pulling you down to him, and you glance around.

“Stay here,” he tells you, and you don’t have the energy to argue back.

He makes off, pulling his gun from his holster. You stand with a hand on each horse’s muzzle, gently petting. Joel’s gone for a decent amount of time, his silhouette slowly sneaking in and out of every room, spending a couple minutes in each before he clears it.

He returns with a box of pills, some gauze, and a bottle of water, which he hands to you. You take a long swig and pass it back, and he does the same.

“What will we do with Jet ‘n…?”

“Huh?” he asks, replacing the cap on the half-empty bottle.

“What’s your horse called?”

“She ain’t got a name.”

You tsk. “Bad owner.”

“We ain’t their owners.”

“Mine’s is Jet. Pick a name.”

Joel sighs and shakes his head, but you know he’s gonna spend all night thinking up some name to go with yours. “We’ll tie ‘em up out here.”

“What if something happens to them?”

“Well,” he says, leading them toward the shelter, “if somethin’ happens to them, it only means it’s about thirty seconds away from happenin’ to us.”

He jerks his head toward the first room as he ties them up, and you know the conversation is over.

You wander into the small, dingy room, pulling your jacket from your shoulders. It smells of damp, the wallpaper’s peeling off the wall above the bed. The sheets are in disarray, a little dusty, but they look clean enough. The bathroom walls are covered in grime. Drawers empty, closet doors missing, entire place ransacked.

It’s as good as you get, these days. At least it has a solid roof.

Joel settles the horses and closes the door gently behind himself. You’re already tugging your boots off, sat at the foot of the bed.

He rests his gun on the nightstand and straightens up, stretching his back with a quiet groan.

“’s cozy,” you offer, and he nods.

“Better ‘n risking that hospital.”

The bedsprings creak when you shimmy up the mattress, resting your back against the hardwood headboard. It ain’t the most comfortable, but then it’s not meant to be, is it? It’s only meant to be safe, which Joel’s made sure of.

He stands at the bottom of the bed, watching you as you bounce up and down a couple times, laughing quietly at the sound of the springs beneath you. His expression clouds over under low brows.

“Y’okay?” you ask, tilting your head.

He nods again. Eyes flitting up and down, from your face to your neck, back up, and then lower still. Your chest. Your stomach. Your legs. You feel your heartbeat quicken when he takes a step forward.

“Just had to find somewhere better.”

“Better?” You smile. “Have you seen the world, Miller?”

He leans his knee against the foot of the bed. His brown eyes darken even more, and his jaw tenses.

“Had to find somewhere better,” he mutters, “so I could fuck you in peace.”

Your breath catches. You stare from his lips back up to his eyes. His fists are balled tight. His chest heaves with steady panting. There’s something flickering in the depths of those warm eyes; an ember, drawing you in. Tantalizing you.

You sit forward, pushing onto all fours, and crawl down the groaning bed to him, rising onto your knees when your hands meet his shirt. Your chest against his stomach, you look up into his eyes.

His rough hands knot in your hair and he pulls down, yanking your head back and your chin up to him. He studies your face, outlined in the moonlight seeping through the window. Then he lowers his jaw and lines his lips against yours.

“That what you want?” he hums against your mouth. You swallow his words – they claw at your throat as they go.

“Uhuh,” you breathe back, trying to connect your lips. He doesn’t allow you; steadily dodges your jaw like you’re a pair of negative magnets, repelling off one another. You moan.

“Needy girl,” Joel whispers. “Two weeks too long for you?”

“Mhm.”

You’re not tired anymore. You’re fucking desperate. You feel your cunt dripping, seeping through your underwear, worsened when Joel’s hand reaches down between your legs and cups you through your jeans.

You gasp and grab his arms to steady yourself.

“Tell me what you want,” he says, hand tensing around your core.

Your lip trembles as you watch the way his mouth moves, how he shapes the words. His teeth locked between soft lips, dappled with brown hair, ends singed gray. The way he almost spits the words.

Your chest meets his torso when you breathe in, a deep, shaky breath. Joel notices; the corners of his mouth twitch, holding back a smile.

“Want you to…want you…”

He doesn’t wait for you to finish your sentence. He pushes you back and falls on top of you, strong body pinning you against the mattress, hand still clamped to your crotch.

His head dips to your neck where he bites, scratches and sucks, mumbling against your hot skin, “Tell me, baby. Use your words.”

Your head begins to swim, body starts pulsing with electricity. Baby. Joel’s pet names are limited to one thing. One activity.

“Want you to f– fuck, Joel – fuck me.” Fuck me fuck me fuck me.

His hand begins wrestling with the button of your jeans. Thick fingers fumbling with your zipper, taking your waistband with both hands and hauling it down. The force of it pulls you down the mattress too, squealing as Joel rips the denim from your legs. You lower your hands to help him, but once they’re tossed to the floor, he bats you away.

He’s shaking his head, tsking, then takes both your wrists in one of his huge hands. Fingers twisted around your delicate skin, pinning them above your head. The bed sighs around you when he pushes your hands into the mattress. Your back arches, your chest rising to meet his.

Your legs part, knees settling either side of his waist. Of course they do. It’s what you know now. It’s basic fucking instinct at this point.

His free hand returns to cup your sex, feeling how wet you are through your now soaked underwear.

“Baby,” he coos, “this all for me?”

You nod a little too eagerly, not that you’re present enough to care. But it beckons a smug smile from Joel, who begins sliding your panties down your thighs.

Your hips lift to let him drag the fabric down, biting your lip, not willing to wait another fucking second for him. Lace meets denim on the torn-up floor, and you sigh, settling back against the rusty bedsprings and mottled sheets.

Joel’s free hand ghosts from your wrist down to your elbow, teetering along the sleeve of your t-shirt over to the collar, where he pulls it so far down into the valley between your breasts that a small noise passes your lips.

“Hm?” he asks, fingers pausing against your breastbone.

“’s my only shirt. Don’t…”

He kisses his teeth. His gaze never lifts from your heaving chest, skin damp with sweat right underneath his fingers. You can see him tossing it over in his head. What he wants to do, versus what he probably shouldn’t.

He blinks. Decision made.

“Give you one of mine,” he growls, and hooks his fingers, dragging the fabric of your shirt lower and lower until the collar tears open and it’s another scrap lost to the motel room floor.

And then there you are, naked and writhing underneath him. He’s still in his dusty flannel. There’s sweat lining his forehead. He holds himself over you, hovering, taking every inch of you in and storing it behind his eyes.

You jerk your hands, trying to break free just to touch him, feel him, but he pulls away again, tutting.

“No, pretty girl,” Joel coos, “gonna take my time with ya.”

You moan in protest, still wriggling under his body. His grip on your wrists doesn’t loosen, not even when his free hand dips to undo his belt. The cold metal kisses your naked thighs when he pulls it through his jeans; the leather drags up your torso and across your face as he lifts it.

He takes your hands individually, careful and yet rough, urgent, and slots them between the slats of the headboard. Your head turns up to watch what he’s doing. The silver of his belt buckle knocks against the wood as he slips it under your wrists, feeding it between your skin and the mattress, wrapping it around the slat between your hands.

Then he slips the belt through the buckle, and pulls. Tight. Your hands come together, wrists kissing, the leather burning your skin the tighter he pulls. You whine, head rolling back to meet his gaze, fixed on yours.

“Since you don’t wanna listen.”

The drip in his voice, sweet like honey, smooth as whiskey, forces your legs open wider. Joel smirks, pushing himself down the mattress and out of your view.

Staring up at the gray ceiling, you’re left just to feel him. Feel him as his palms splay out on your knees, pushing them into the bed. Feel his stubble graze the inside of your thigh as he drags his tongue up, leaving a trail of wet behind.

Feel when he breathes a whisper across your aching cunt, something you can’t hear over the ruffling of sheets around your head as you toss around. And feel when his fingers part your lips, opening you up wide for him to really fucking see.

“Fuck, baby,” he says, and you find the strength to lift your head to watch. He’s leant over you, one arm hooked around your left thigh, holding it open, the other fucking…playing with you. Like you’re some fancy gadget. Like you’re brand new to him.

“So,” he runs two fingers from your clit through your folds, “fuckin’,” lines them up at your entrance, “pretty – for me.”

He pushes up into you, and your head hits the pillow with a stifled groan. You’re panting through your teeth, back arching the deeper he goes, stretching you out and rocking waves of sparkling heat through you. Waves that hit the other end of your stomach and come rippling back, throbbing around his thick fingers.

His arm bears down on your thigh, forcing your legs wide open for him. His hand cups your clit and you buck your hips, rutting against the base of his palm. Joel laughs softly.

“Patience, darlin’. Don’t want it to be over ‘fore it’s even started.”

Your head rocks back and forth, eyes tight shut. It’s all you can fucking do, tied tight to the bed. Joel pumps his fingers in and out of you, adding a third when you’re wet enough, thumb never leaving your clit.

You can feel your orgasm brewing in your stomach. Feel the tension between your hips. You’re chasing it, eyes shut, focusing only on Joel’s hand fucking in and out, in and out. You’re coming close, body pushing into the mattress, legs widening even more to let him slip a fourth finger inside you.

“Feel good?” he asks, almost with a laugh. There’s a smirk painted across his lips, you know it, even though you can’t find the energy to open your eyes.

You whimper in response, some small, muffled sound roughly shaped like yeah.

“Yeah,” Joel agrees, and his wrist flicks harder.

You moan every time his fingertips kiss the edge of your cunt, pushing against the soft walls. You moan when he drags them out, leaving you empty. Again, when he pushes them back in, rough and fast. And then when he lowers his lips to your ear and tells you how good you’re being, how pretty you look, how hard he’s gonna…

It’s like he changes his mind in an instant.

Withdraws his hand, slick-covered and still hooked. Pulls it away as quickly as he pulls your orgasm from your body. It drains from you; reduces back to an ache you can’t reach.

Joel slips his fingers between his lips as he readjusts himself, repositioning on the squealing mattress. Sucks them clean as casually as he would at a cookout or something, then takes your hips in both hands and straightens you up.

His jeans are tugged down barely past his ass. He’s not prepared to waste any time ripping his own clothes off like he did yours. Just leans forward, pulls his solid cock from his boxershorts, and spits into his hand.

You watch through eyes glazed with lust as he strokes himself a couple times, eyes always on your swollen cunt, groaning as his spit coats his shaft. Then he lowers himself to you and does the same, only running his length through your folds.

You whine, feeling that familiar thickness separate you so close to where you need him, and yet so fucking far.

“Joel…” you whisper, but he’s not listening.

Transfixed on the sight of his cock moving against your soaked cunt. Listening to the sweet, wet sounds the pair of you make. His tip catches on your entrance a couple times and you gasp. Just fucking do it already.

“Fuck,” Joel growls under his breath, and then…

It’s been months. Might even be years. But the feeling of him pushing inside you for the first time is still the same. Every. Fucking. Time. He’s bigger, thicker than anyone you’ve ever slept with before. And he knows it, because every single time, he glides into you without hesitation. No time for you to adjust. Just fills you up straight away, lets you deal with it later.

He’s cocky like that. Too careful when you’re on the road, and too careless when you’re between the sheets. Not that you’re fuckin’ complaining.

Your mouth falls open in a choked moan. Your lungs are gasping for air. Joel’s all you can feel.

Your elbows lift into the air, arms desperate to break free just to grab onto him, ground yourself, feel him close against you. Your wrists lock against the hardwood, leather digging into your skin as punishment for trying to break free. You’re stuck; nothing but the overwhelming feeling of him between your legs, filling you up and leaving you empty over and over again.

“Good girl,” he’s panting, still watching where his cock lines up with your cunt, and then disappears inside.

He leans down and his lips find home on your shoulder, sucking sweet marks into the skin like he always does. His tip bumps against your cervix, jolts of sensitivity pushing through you each time he bottoms out causing you to whine into his flannel.

“Fuck, Joel.”

“I know, I know. I got you. I’ll get you there again, baby.”

You had a routine. Follow his movements, follow his orders, stay alive. Deviate slightly from that routine, even for a minute, and you threw the whole agreement into jeopardy. One misstep on a crowded street dotted with cars once had a sniper open firing at you both for nearly two hours until Joel found him and put a bullet between his eyes. That time your curiosity got the better of you and Joel almost lost a hand stopping you from walking down an alleyway and straight into a wire trap.

Repeat it, Joel had said that night. Crouched by his apartment window, rain battering off the glass. Hands on the frame, ready to hoist it up and let you slip out any second. Repeat. It.

Do as you say, you whispered back. And only then did he pull the sash.

This is not the fucking routine. This is not the agreement. You fucked, of course you did. But that’s all it ever was. Hungry, touch-starved, desperate sex. Bored sex. We-almost-died-today sex. Not this.

Not: clear an entire motel just so nothing within a two-mile radius gets to hear you fuck me senseless. Strip me down, tie me up, push me to the edge with your hands, but don’t let me go without you. Curl your lips around my ear while you’re buried inside me and whisper praises. Whisper baby. Whisper…anything you like. Anything you wouldn’t say when the sun’s up.

This feels like it means something. To both of you. Feels like Joel’s looking for something in you, asking something of you. And you want to give it to him, whatever it is.

And maybe that’s the point.

He’s proving that he could make you do fucking anything. Let him tie you to a bedframe, push you close enough to the edge that you can feel the pressure of release beckoning you forward like the wind circling your ankles.

And you’re proving that you’ll do it. You’ll do what he says. Follow him to the edge, refuse to jump. Pull his body into yours, make it feel like home for a night.

He’s proving that he’ll take care of you, and you’re proving that you’ll let him.

Your wrists are burning. Leather digging marks, searing skin, then rubbing over it again and again to cut it deeper. It’s starting to hurt, if you’re honest with yourself. Your face probably gives it away.

Probably, possibly. Definitely.

Joel notices you quieten and lifts his head from the crook of your neck. Studies your face for a fraction of a second and knows.

“Hey,” he says, reaching up. He loosens the belt with one hand whilst still deep inside you, hips thrusting slowly just as a place marker.

When your hands slip free, Joel’s clasp gently around your wrist, fingers delicate over the sensitive, reddened skin. His eyes almost glisten at the sight.

“Baby…” he whispers.

“’s okay,” you reassure him, loosening his grasp on you and settling your shaky hands on his jaw. “I’m okay. Liked it.”

Joel lowers his forehead against yours and picks his pace up again, and you moan into the space between your lips. Your legs lift higher, knees bumping against his shoulders. His hips snap into yours, his jeans rutting against the inside of your thighs, the bed creaking with each messy thrust.

“Close, baby,” his voice vibrates against your lips.

“Yeah,” you whine, chest pushing against his. “Fuck. Right there. Fuck.”

Your arm drapes over his shoulder blades, nails dig into the rough cotton of his shirt. Your left hand is still at his jaw, fingers caressing his cheek. Joined together at your hips and your brows, gaze never really meeting for longer than a second, but still. You’re right there. Joel – he’s right there.

It’s new, it’s intimate. It’s almost…sweet.

“Gonna cum with me?” he asks, sincerely. He’s not trying to coax it out of you. He’s checking that you want to fall over the edge. Not for him, not because of him, but with him.

You nod and he returns it, sweat sticking his dark hair to his forehead.

With his eyes on you, flitting between your parted lips and your batting eyelashes, too scared to settle on either place for too long, he lifts your hips and fucks into you fast. Deep. Fucking – hard. Skin slapping against yours, breath hot and tangling with yours between your lips.

The pressure between your hips begins to build again, rapidly, Joel adding to it with every movement. Every push of his thick cock against your walls only draws them in tighter, closing around him, holding him closer to you with each moan escaping both your lips.

“Darlin’…” he murmurs in a broken voice, and you know. He’s starting to falter. Thrusts weakening.

“’m there too,” you reply, gasping for breath.

“Let me – feel you,” he says, “pretty girl.”

Maybe it’s the fact you don’t normally talk. Maybe the fact he never touches you the way he has tonight. Maybe it’s him wanting you to cum first, before he will.

Or maybe it’s pretty girl, that finally sends you over.

You look so good to him. You’re being so good for him. ‘n he can’t help it, has to let you know. Has to let every thought that passes through his head slip out past his tongue.

Pulling his chest flat against yours, you throw your head back to the pillow with a moan so filthy, so guttural that you’d be surprised if you don’t have company in five minutes.

Joel’s at your heels, face buried between your breasts, groaning into your chest as his cock twitches deep inside you and you feel him fill you up.

Your orgasm’s still knocking you senseless, every nerve in your body electrified. You’re holding Joel tight to your body, his ear flat to your chest, and you know he can hear your heartbeat. Know he’s listening to it throwing punches from behind your ribcage.

He’s still groaning through his breaths, heavy and thick with his release. Cock still deep inside you, still, softening. You lay like that for…well, you’ve no idea how long. But after a bit, Joel pulls himself up off of you and wanders into the bathroom.

You sit up on your elbows, taking deep, steady breaths, and let the stars in your vision dissipate. Joel emerges a couple minutes later and finally tugs his jeans down. He lifts both his shirt and the tee underneath off in one motion, tossing them onto the sideboard, then slips back under the covers, wordlessly hooking a hand around your upper arm and pulling you down onto his chest.

Your legs intertwine with his. There’s cum seeping out of you onto his thigh. Both of you, mixed up as one. His fingers sift through your hair, doing little to untangle it but trying all the same. His breathing in time with yours, his lips pressed safely to the crown of your head.

Before you know it, you’re sleeping.

Dawn breaks early. Too early. You’re still tangled up in Joel, feeling his chest rise and fall. Listening to his heartbeat – slow, calm. The drapes – not that there’s much left of them – are too thin to stop any light from flooding in. It’s only a matter of time before he wakes up.

The rough sheets sting against your wrists – red marks scoring them where Joel’s belt had been. You wince, running light fingers over the grazes, hissing at your fingertips as they go.

It hurts way less than it thrills you. This little reminder of what you did last night. What Joel did. The pain subsides the longer you touch the scars, knitted brows melting into a smile.

You slowly lift your head, propping yourself up on your elbow. Just watching him. The dust in the room frames him in a sea of white glitter, the slow-emerging sun lights across his face and dips where the scar on his nose sits.

His arms are still around your waist, cradling you. Holding you to him. You know he’s stirring when they tighten, and then fall loose. Façade back up. Walls slowly rebuilding.

You dress yourselves in silence. Run out of words to say. There ain’t nothing to say – nothing that wasn’t said last night. Joel sinks into the mattress beside you to tie his laces, and your arms brush against one another a couple times. It’s like fire on ice.

He’s first to leave the room. Just pulls his jeans over his boots and stands, unlocks the door and lets the light flood in. You check once over for anything left behind, and slip out. The air is cool, twilight still slowly washing away. You sling your jacket over Jet’s back and pull yourself up.

Joel’s t-shirt is loose over your shoulders. He gave you a fresh one from his bag. It smells like him, but you don’t let him see when you bury your nose into it to breathe him in. The hem bunches up over the top of your thighs once you’re sat on the horse.

His eyes scan down you once, surveying you in hisshirt. Then he swerves off back toward the road, silhouette cutting between the rays of sun streaming between the pine trees.

“Ghost,” he tosses over his shoulder.

“Huh?” You click to Jet to follow.

“Horse’s name. Ghost.”

“How come?” you ask when you’re side by side with him.

He shrugs, upper lip turning. “When it’s dark, you can’t hardly see her. She’s like a ghost.”

Joel’s hand surfs gently across Ghost’s mane, fingers scratching her shining coat. Your bodies rock in time with the sway of the horses’ walking. The echo of their hooves on the asphalt masks the silence for a few moments.

“Alright,” you eventually accept, turning away to watch the sun lift above the prickly treetops.

And to hide the smile tugging on your lips.

----------

taglist: @earthtogrogu @sexygaypalpatine @serenaxpedro @brittmb115 @jediknightjana @mrsquill @uncassettodiricordi

(lmk if i’ve missed you out & check my taglist info for how to be added!)

[acesw]

Reverse: 1999 : Disabled Characters

The game doesn't stray too far on the neurodivergent allegory for the arcanists themselves. But at the same time, there are also inclusions of other characters who are very much known to be disabled. So for this post I'll delve into that, just a bit.

Now, there are 10 characters that I want to put in the spotlight. These mostly lean towards being canon, but a part of these are also researched upon and shortened so the post doesn’t become way too long.

Cristallo, Rabies, Erick : Chronic Illness

It's quite self explanatory that Cristallo herself has a chronic illness. She was born prematurely, with an added condition that makes her physically fragile. As seen in the game, she needs a life-support system to maintain her health when she's outside. It's also implied that her condition may be a recurrent cancer, as her arcane abilities are tied to a machine that provides cobalt therapy, a known advancement in radiotherapy in the post-WWII era.

Rabies is an odd case. In his stories, it's noted that Adam cured Alicia through unknown means at the cost of contracting rabies himself. However, instead of the virus being acute and guaranteed to be fatal, it becomes a chronic illness to Rabies due to the abundance and use of arcanum. And since the rabies virus attacks the brain, his cognitive capabilities and ability to recall things before the present had been impaired, making him rather docile and animal-like in nature as a result.

Erick, as revealed in her anecdote, has a hereditary blood condition that came with her arcane skill. With her arcane skill making her physically powerful, overusing it will accelerate the effects of her blood condition to the point that it can become fatal. To prevent this, she also inherited an armband from her grandfather, Harald. The armband suppresses one's ability to use arcane skills, but by extension it also prevents Erick's condition getting worse.

Shamane : Amputee

Shamane's circumstances are also self-explanatory. He lost his arm for unknown reasons, but after having lived without it for 20 years, it doesn't bother him anymore. However as we know, he crafted his prosthetic arm as a means to avoid scaring kids. (which I think is quite cool in itself)

Ms. Radio, Bessmert : Blindness

Ms. Radio and our new friend, Bessmert, are both canonically blind. Ms. Radio has stated that she cannot see, and asks Vertin to left in places where she can feel temperatures to make her feel at peace.

And as we know, Yenisei (or in other words, Yenisei's VA) has stated in the 1.6 livestream that Bessmert is known to be blind, but even with that, she's a great researcher and guide to her.

Mesmer Jr. : OCD [Content Warning: Mentions of Self Harm and Suicide.]

Mesmer Jr.'s character has heavily implied throughout the main story and her own to have OCD as a result of the traumatic experiences she had gone through from her field of work and her family’s history in it. She identifies that she has "incurable" anxiety, which causes her to think differently about arcanists and act a little irrationally from our own perspective. This anxiety results in double checking everything and having a slightly intensive routine.

This routine is created as a means to maintain herself and her own sanity, but an imbalance or interruption can greatly upset her. As a result, she has conflicting ideals, experiences hallucinations and panic attacks, has suicidal thoughts, and actively inflicts self harm as a means to cope with her anxiety. However, she’s calmer and at peace with herself when she's left alone in a quieter and clean space, away from others, and where nature is heard more than constant buzzing. In short, Mesmer Jr.’s mental health is really complex and would be better if it's explored in a separate post.

Baby Blue : Alice in Wonderland syndrome

It's no secret that Baby Blue has Alice in Wonderland syndrome, or in other words dysmetropsia. This affects her perception of reality and her ability to recall, but this in turn makes her arcane abilities all the more powerful. As a result, she doesn't realize that she's growing up, yet it seems she doesn't mind that much. This doesn't seem to affect her physically either; In fact, it has a heavy influence on how she displays her arcane skills.

Poltergeist : Social Anxiety

Poltergeist has been known to be anxious in social settings which conflicts with her people-pleasing tendencies. She's also insecure about herself which adds up to her not wanting to be directly perceived. At the same time, she doesn't like being left alone as a result of having been ignored and forgotten post mortem. Poltergeist is also elaborate (i.e. not wanting to be looked at for too long) yet awkward at the same time when communicating them.

However, I'm not sure how to describe Poltergeist's case quite well, but the idea of her having social anxiety resonates greatly in my mind, so it can be treated as a partial headcanon.

Balloon Party : Autism and Speech Impairment

Balloon Party as a child had contracted an illness that caused her to have a persistent high fever. In the end, she awakened her arcane skill this way, with her being able to cough up balloons that can be harmful or a cure to anything.

However, it might have also affected her speech because of the physical strain that comes from coughing, it results to BP's speech being a bit slow and having abnormal pauses before she speaks again. Though, this also might be a sign of her possibly also having autism, where rigid and uneven language development is a common pattern in how autism affects one's ability in communication. Her speech also has a pattern of echolalia, having a flat tone, and lack of control of it.

However, speech impediment isn't everything about autism, and there's a lot more about BP's character that also connects with it such as her special interests. I can better explore this in a different post, which will be explained below.

Last Notes

These are the characters I’ve written down, most of these are less headcanon and more of observations I’ve found when looking into these characters. Some people from the lore chat have also added their own insights on some of them. (Thank you lupjo for beta-reading through it and helping me out) 

Of course, there are a few more characters I want to discuss because of the implications of them having autism / ADHD, but these will be written in another post in the future because I still need to research and gather other information. Additionally, it would be an opportunity to talk about the connections between an arcanist’s and neurodivergent person’s relationships with modern society.

Congrats for reaching the bottom of this post, and feel free to add your own ideas or headcanons about the characters here and/or any other ones.

[doberbutts]

I mean this is a pretty hot take but I think until y'all can sit down and actually provide examples of what you mean by "privilege" instead of using the word as a means of referring to the nebulous idea that some people have it better and its Their Fault, there will continue to be absolutely braindead takes about who holds what privilege and how it conflicts with actual first-hand experience.

That's why, when I ask what male privilege I was apparently either born with or received immediately upon coming out, I get crickets.

When we talk about male privilege, we talk about getting paid more. We talk about getting hired more, and into higher-paying jobs more. We talk about being able to vote and drive and have credit cards and bank accounts. We talk about reproductive freedom and body autonomy. We talk about rape statistics, domestic violence, and other forms of violent crime. We talk about immigration and citizenship status and human trafficking. We talk about power dynamics in relationships. We talk about society's expectations for gender roles.

There's two big problems with this:

Unless a trans man is completely binary, fully stealth, and has burned every trace of his past, almost none of this is accessible to him. Trans men don't get paid more unless their gender marker is M, there's no mention of ever being anything but cisgender, and they're completely stealth. They don't get hired more, unless these things are true. Many lived lives being discouraged from chasing higher paying jobs such as STEM fields due to being seen as girls, so they're not going into these jobs more either. Similarly with voting- when I registered to vote I was non-passing, with my legal name and gender marker. To the voting office, I was a woman. To my credit card company, who has never seen my face, I'm *still* a woman, despite passing most of the time. To my bank account, which I've had since I was 8, I've never not been a woman. When I took my driver's test, I was treated as a woman.

When I asked for a hysterectomy at 20, I was told not until I was over 30, had a minimum of two children, or had a husband to sign off on it. Just like a woman. When I whacked my head as a kid and was rushed to the doctor, the doctor specifically said if I was a boy he wouldn't have bothered stitching but a girl can't have scars on her face *while he was stitching my forehead back together*. I had to fight to be allowed to cut my long hair. I had to fight to be allowed to take care of it by myself.

I have needed to leave relationships when I realized I was with a man that would hurt me for his gain. I've been assaulted by my peers for being a black woman or a black girl in a space that I was not wanted.

I was raised with the expectation that I would be a mother to a large family with a husband that kept me pregnant and likely staying at home like a typical tradwife. I was punished, physically, mentally, emotionally, socially for rejecting that life. I lost literally all my social group from before I came out. I lost a good chunk of family members too, and the ones I have left are... trying, but not perfect.

And:

Other marginalized men are also often denied access to these things either. White men might be paid more, but white women make more than men of any other race. White men might be hired more, but "Rachel" is more likely to get a call back than "Rafael". White men are more likely to be in a STEM position, but tell me when the last time you saw a Native doctor. It may have been *legal* for racially marginalized men to vote, but those who did not speak English had no ability to do so until 45 years *after* white women had the right to vote (and technically it took another 10 years for translations to actually be provided). Banks and credit companies and driver's tests and mortgage brokers and more are *known* to discriminate, between barely-legal remnants of redlining to outright illegal discrimination because they know they can get away with it.

Black and Native children are taken from their birth families and placed into foster care and adoptive homes daily due to state-sponsered genocide. It's more than just the mother that's affected by this. Black men are largely targeted by stop-and-frisk policing policies that exist to do nothing except harass and assault them for just existing in a place, and are an extreme body violation.

New studies show that men experience rape and domestic violence at roughly the equivilant rate as women, but reporting is obscenely low due to social pressures and rigid gendering of victim vs abuser policies. The demographic with the highest rate of murder victims is black men.

Single, childless adult men are not allowed to immigrate to multiple countries, including the US, on refugee status. Men of marginalized races- largely latine and asian- are trafficked by largescale construction companies and then deported or abandoned when no longer needed.

Disabled men are killed or abandoned regularly by their able-bodied partners who got tired of dealing with them.

I know more than one man who feels trapped into a place where he cannot, ever, show any emotion besides horny, hungry, or angry as a direct result of strict gender roles being pushed on him. I know more than one man who has tried to take his own life because of it.

I know more than one man who has succeeded.

And I gotta be honest the further I get in transition and the more I pass the more I think that being a man... also kinda sucks. Like it sucked when I was a woman. Doesn't really feel like it sucks less as a man. Seems to me like society treats both of these pretty poorly and I was told the grass was way greener on this side and it's, uh, not. Not really. Not when you start making cis male friends and start realizing that a lot of these guys had a lot of the same experiences you grew up being told was part of a woman's life.

And I'm not saying that these guys don't have interactions where life is better for them because they're men. Of course they do. That's patriarchy for you. But I do think it's difficult to have a "male privilege" argument when people try to argue on a 1-to-1 basis and it just straight up doesn't work like that.

And I know a lot of what I'm saying ties back to the theory of intersectionality, that this can't flatten nuance like this is directly tied to the fact that a white woman, a native woman, an asian woman, a black man, a latino man, and an arabic man, are all going to have WILDLY different experiences that you can't just "well you're [gender] so you don't experience [harm]" about because it's blatantly untrue. Especially if you continue to add marginalizations, like immigration status, religion, sexuality, transition, language, and more.

[zvaigzdelasas]

There’s little doubt that the American government has decided to slow China’s economic rise, most notably in the fields of technological development. To be sure, the Biden administration denies that these are its goals. Janet Yellen said on April 20, “China’s economic growth need not be incompatible with U.S. economic leadership. The United States remains the most dynamic and prosperous economy in the world. We have no reason to fear healthy economic competition with any country.” And Jake Sullivan said on April 27, “Our export controls will remain narrowly focused on technology that could tilt the military balance. We are simply ensuring that U.S. and allied technology is not used against us.”

Yet, in its deeds, the Biden administration has shown that its vision extends beyond those modest goals. It has not reversed the trade tariffs Donald Trump imposed in 2018 on China, even though presidential candidate Joe Biden criticized them in July 2019, saying: “President Trump may think he’s being tough on China. All that he’s delivered as a consequence of that is American farmers, manufacturers and consumers losing and paying more.” Instead, the Biden administration has tried to increase the pressure on China by banning the export of chips, semiconductor equipment, and selected software.

It has also persuaded its allies, like the Netherlands and Japan, to follow suit. More recently, on Aug. 9, the Biden administration issued an executive order prohibiting American investments in China involving “sensitive technologies and products in the semiconductors and microelectronics, quantum information technologies, and artificial intelligence sectors” which “pose a particularly acute national security threat because of their potential to significantly advance the military, intelligence, surveillance, or cyber-enabled capabilities” of China.

All these actions confirm that the American government is trying to stop China’s growth. Yet, the big question is whether America can succeed in this campaign—and the answer is probably not. Fortunately, it is not too late for the United States to reorient its China policy toward an approach that would better serve Americans—and the rest of the world.[...]

Since the creation of the People’s Republic of China in 1949, several efforts have been made to limit China’s access to or stop its development in various critical technologies, including nuclear weapons, space, satellite communication, GPS, semiconductors, supercomputers, and artificial intelligence. The United States has also tried to curb China’s market dominance in 5G, commercial drones, and electric vehicles (EVs). Throughout history, unilateral or extraterritorial enforcement efforts to curtail China’s technological rise have failed and, in the current context, are creating irreparable damage to long-standing U.S. geopolitical partnerships. In 1993 the Clinton administration tried to restrict China’s access to satellite technology. Today, China has some 540 satellites in space and is launching a competitor to Starlink.

When America restricted China’s access to its geospatial data system in 1999, China simply built its own parallel BeiDou Global Navigation Satellite System (GNSS) system in one of the first waves of major technological decoupling. In some measures, BeiDou is today better than GPS. It is the largest GNSS in the world, with 45 satellites to GPS’s 31, and is thus able to provide more signals in most global capitals. It is supported by 120 ground stations, resulting in greater accuracy, and has more advanced signal features, such as two-way messaging[...]

American measures to deprive China access to the most advanced chips could even damage America’s large chip-making companies more than it hurts China. China is the largest consumer of semiconductors in the world. Over the past ten years, China has been importing massive amounts of chips from American companies. According to the US Chamber of Commerce, China-based firms imported $70.5 billion worth of semiconductors from American firms in 2019, representing approximately 37 percent of these companies’ global sales. Some American companies, like Qorvo, Texas Instruments, and Broadcom, derive about half of their revenues from China. 60 percent of Qualcomm’s revenues, a quarter of Intel’s revenues, and a fifth of Nvidia’s sales are from the Chinese market. It’s no wonder that the CEOs of these three companies recently went to Washington to warn that U.S. industry leadership could be harmed by the export controls. American firms will also be hurt by retaliatory actions from China, such as China’s May ban on chips from US-based Micron Technology. China accounts for over 25 percent of Micron’s sales.[...]

The U.S. Semiconductor Industry Association released a statement on July 17, saying that Washington’s repeated steps “to impose overly broad, ambiguous, and at times unilateral restrictions risk diminishing the U.S. semiconductor industry’s competitiveness, disrupting supply chains, causing significant market uncertainty, and prompting continued escalatory retaliation by China,” and called on the Biden administration not to implement further restrictions without more extensive engagement with semiconductor industry representatives and experts.

The Chips Act cannot subsidize the American semiconductor industry indefinitely, and there is no other global demand base to replace China. Other chip producing nations will inevitably break ranks and sell to China (as they have historically) and the American actions will be for naught. And, in banning the export of chips and other core inputs to China, America handed China its war plan years ahead of the battle. China is being goaded into building self-sufficiency far earlier than they would have otherwise. Prior to the ZTE and Huawei components bans, China was content to continue purchasing American chips and focusing on the front-end hardware. Peter Wennink, the CEO of ASML, stated that China is already leading in key applications and demand for semiconductors. Wennink wrote, “The roll-out of the telecommunication infrastructure, battery technology, that’s the sweet spot of mid-critical and mature semiconductors, and that’s where China without any exception is leading.”[...]

Former State Department official Susan Thornton, who oversaw the study as director of the Forum on Asia-Pacific Security at NCAFP, said: “This audit of U.S.-China diplomacy shows that we can make progress through negotiations and that China follows through on its commitments. The notion that engagement with China did not benefit the U.S. is just not accurate.”[...]

One fundamental problem is that domestic politics in America are forcing American policymakers to take strident stands against China instead of pragmatic positions. For instance, sanctions preventing the Chinese Defense Minister, Li Shangfu, from traveling to the United States are standing in the way of U.S.-China defense dialogues to prevent military accidents.

19 Sep 23

[littlemisslipbalm]

Demonology: Me & My Dog

Series Summary: A new demon has come to Nashville. Josh and Jake's ways of life have been thrown off by her arrival. The angel and demon have lived with an understanding of one another, but with Y/N stirring up trouble and asking questions, they're forced to work out a new normal. And why is she so powerful for a human turned demon anyway, that's unusual, right?

Jake Kiszka x f!reader and Josh Kiszka x f!reader

A/N: This will be at least three parts! This first part is more about Josh and the reader, the second will be more Jake and then we will see with part 3 what is to happen. Please let me know what you think with comments and reblogs and messages to my inbox!! I want to talk about this bc I have been so excited to share it!!

Word Count: 5.4k | Warnings: alcohol consumption, strong language, allusions to sex - minor descriptions of sex but not descriptive smut (still 18+!!), dubious comprehension of angel/demon mythology, like this is fiction fr so if it does not make sense i am sorry but idc (but am also open to suggestions thx)

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Part 1: My & My Dog

When being told to stir up some trouble on Earth, Y/N was more annoyed that she had to go back at all than excited that she was moving up in the ranks. Afterall, she’d only died 50 years ago. It was already time to go back? She thought she had eternity down here. 

From what she’d heard from other members of the underworld, it’d just gotten worse since she’d left. Prior to 1976 had been a riot for her (1976 was not her favorite, but dying usually wasn’t in people’s top ten greatest moments), but now it sounds worse than Hell itself.  

Still, like a good little demon soldier, she trudged through the dim back rooms to find the dull office that would provide her with the necessary documents to take a corporeal form and inhabit the physical sphere for an extended period of time. 

“Can I bring my dog?” She asks, kicking at a piece of garbage on the floor. It littered the entire ground around her feet. 

“Dog?” The servant of hell inquired. 

“Chupacabra,” She corrects.

“Sure,” Their eyes raise from filling out the paperwork to the little animal beside her. “Extra form you need to both sign. Says he’ll suck the blood of at least five animals per earthly week while he’s there. We don’t do ESAs here.”  

“Fab,” She sighed in relief and scratched behind the ears of her dog that she had re-encountered shortly after arriving in Hell. 

The chupacabra placed his paw in some mysterious blood that had formed in the pewter catch-all dish sitting beside the papers and then pushed it onto the form. Signed, sealed and soon to be delivered. They were getting out of Hell. 

-

When she materialized on Earth, she wasn’t sure where she was exactly. The home office didn’t give that information, you just had to figure it out yourself. She had been hoping for her hometown of Los Angeles or another major city center she’d never been to before. Maybe London or Tokyo would be a fun change of pace. 

After walking what felt like 20 miles, but was probably half of that given that she wasn’t used to physical legs anymore, she came upon a sign as to where she was. A mural to be exact. 

It had only been woods and fields for the first half, but then there were more buildings. Coffee shops, bagel shops and something that was called a ‘Vape’ shops. Everything advertised themselves as historic music sites. But it wasn’t until 1504 Demonbreun St. that she fully ascertained she was in the heart of Nashville, Tennessee. 

“Welcome to Nashville”

“Fuck yeah,” She smiled. A friend back in the day had been from here and told her about it a few times. It wasn’t a major capital city or home, but it was a city alright. And where there was nightlife, she was sure there could be trouble. 

She spent the rest of the day checking around her surroundings. Finding the place Hell had given her to lodge in. It wasn’t much but she remembered earthly delights and planned to spruce it up, give it a vibe. She wrote a note on the wall with a deep red pen she had brought with her a list of items she needed. Couch, rug, bed, posters, an electric guitar and lots of wine and clothes. The ink dripped down the wall and she smiled, swiping at it and placing it to her lips. 

She passed the rest of the daylight hours with great displeasure for the living people around her who barely seemed to notice her. Not that she looked any different than them, but it just bothered her that no one was as friendly as when she’d last been here. No one bothered to say ‘hello’, all they did was stare or talk into their rectangular devices she had realized were portable telephones half way through the day. 

Broadway St. seemed to be the place Y/N thought she’d find the most possible trouble. It was lit up like the Sunset and if it weren’t for all the horribly dressed people surrounding her, she would’ve felt right at home. 

At one of the bars, she got free shots from the bartender with a flash of her eyes. From the regular dark brown iris, they flashed an entire eternal glassy black. He smiled dreamily in the abyss and walked away after she winked at him. She swung back the shots and made her way to the dance floor. 

Raising her hands above her head, she began to dance. Her black lace dress hugged her curves and shifted with her. Her silver jewelry glinted dangerously as she moved. The lights in the bar shifted to stay red instead of the flashing multi-colors that had bothered her when she entered. She moved her hips to the music and slowly it transformed from a poppy song she didn’t know to Led Zeppelin. 

Robert Plant’s voice got everyone dancing the way they should and the vapes transformed into cigarettes and she smiled to herself feeling alive for the first time in a long time. Maybe being back wasn’t so bad. She drank more and danced more and saw people getting drunk and making out in corners and thought debauchery worked as trouble. Job done for the day. 

She relaxed into the sway of the music, writhing around like a snake as her skin grew dewey with perspiration. A tug at her arm brought her out of her euphoric state. All night she had made sure no one would bother her, but whoever this was didn’t seem to follow her rules. 

She opened her eyes, fully black once more as she stared at who was holding her wrist. She tugged back but his hold was secure. He pulled her to the side of the dancefloor, a space conveniently opening up. 

“Get your hands off me! What the fuck, man?”

“You can’t be here,” He spoke calmly. 

She narrowed her eyes at him. He had on a white plain t-shirt and light wash jeans, with opalescent beads hanging around his neck. His eyes were an oddly familiar light brown. His hair was shaved on the sides, creating a sort of mullet that she mildly appreciated if he hadn’t been so rude as to pull her away from her fun. That mullet exposed the golden earrings in his pointy ears. 

There was something different about him. None of it was in his physical form but she felt it, vibrating and extending around him. As if he had invisible light passing around and through him even in the dark dingy bar lighting. 

“Says who?” She finally tugged her arm free from his hold and crossed her arms across her chest, pressing her breasts up in the process. 

His eyes flicker to the movement before pressing his lips into a thin line “Says me.” 

She rolled her eyes, unimpressed. “And you are?” 

“Joshua. I protect this town," he says. He wrings his hands around the gold bracelets on his wrists. “You can’t come into these bars and just mess with everything about them. It’s wrong.” 

“Yes I can, Josh,” She smirks. “I’m a demon as you clearly already can tell. I can do whatever I want.” 

“Oh my God,” Josh sighs, exasperated already. “There’s already a demon here.” He knew the other one quite well and was at least able to keep him in check. A newcomer would mean more work. 

She shrugged. “Not my problem, angel. Hell sent me up here, guess they’re not happy with the other one’s performance.” 

She moved to go back to the bar for another drink when Josh looked like he was a million miles away. He’d really killed her buzz. Josh’s mentioning of another demon made her stop and ask as an afterthought: “What’s this other demon’s name?” 

“Jacob–er, uh, Jake,” Josh corrects himself. He hadn’t gone by Jacob since, well, since before, even if Josh wished he could just call him Jacob. 

“Groovy.” Her smile is wicked, her lips painted a red so deep it resembled dried blood. “Displeasure meeting you, angel. Come find me if you ever want to have a real good time.” She kissed his cheek before disappearing behind a group of people. 

-

Two weeks later, Y/N was seated on a bench in the park with her legs kicked up. She looked like she was a dead body–which more or less, she was, but the way she was sitting was unusual for someone who was supposedly alive. Her dog was perched unnaturally along the backrest, soaking in the sun he had missed. They looked out of place. 

She had come out in the midday to see if she could start any fights in the park. She’d quickly learned that malfunctions with their little handheld phones really upset the modern humans so she liked to mess with wifi and electrical connections every odd day or so just to keep up the no-good work. 

Her black RayBans covered her eyes as they surveyed the green grass for potential targets for a bit of a row. She sat as far away from the people as possible, so she had enhanced her vision as if using a zoom function. But soon something white blocked her vision. 

“Angel,” She practically growled. Her dog actually growled, sitting up. 

“Mind if I sit,” Josh asks pleasantly, eyeing the dog with caution. It looked like a normal dog, but a clip in his right ear and a strange red shimmer in his eyes made Josh think there might be something hellish about him. 

She took her feet off the bench and pushed her sunglasses up off of her face. “Finally want a taste of what you’re missing?” 

“No,” he states flatly. His eyes were still wandering between the creature and the demon. She was dressed in all black, typical. The dog was between cream and the lightest brown he’d ever seen, atypical. “Is this your dog?” 

“Yeah.” She smiles softly for the first time. Her hand goes to pet him between his ears and down his small snout. “He was waiting for me in Hell back’n the day. They made him a chupacabra for me as a ‘Welcome to Hell’ present.” 

Josh’s eyes widened in surprise. What had she done in life to receive a present in Hell? “They like you down there?” 

“Eh…I think I’m just a descendant of many a troublemaker. They knew I’d be an asset, especially when I arrived so early.” 

Her dog slipped into her lap. For a moment, he shifted as he stared at Josh. Big ruby eyes glowered at him, all his hair was gone, leaving something more resembling a pale soft dog-rat. Disturbing and wretched, nonetheless. He wrinkled his nose at Josh. 

Josh tried to smile, feeling awkward. Jake had insisted he find this demon Josh had encountered, needing more information about whether he was really in trouble or if it was procedural. Why Jake wouldn’t do it himself, Josh never got as many answers as questions he asked. 

“Do either of you have names?” 

She grinned. “Is this twenty questions? Why so interested in me?” 

“Just want to get to know my opposition,” Josh says lightly, praying for her to feel extra kind today. Afterall, she was a demon who was originally human and it was only a little while ago from what she seemed to like. He was pretty sure she’d only been down in Hell for 50-60 years, that was barely a human lifetime—and yet it was longer than hers. Far less than Jake. Maybe he could neutralize her, get her to see the bright side. 

“His name is Rune, now, but it used to be Rori.” She rubs over the dog’s hair, happy that he was softer on Earth. “He responds to both–for me. Not sure what he should be called now we’re back.” 

Josh waited patiently. The breeze was cooler than usual and looking at her, he had to assume it was her as well. She seemed far too powerful for a run-of-the-mill demon who used to be human. But she also seemed extremely unlikely to answer his questions if he got too personal. 

With her eyes uncovered, Josh watched them move around as she thought about something. It was almost like she was tracking something or doing some long form math equation in her head. Like she didn’t know what her name was and was looking for the answer. 

“Mine…well, now you can call me Sal.” She winks and Josh straightens in his seat, feeling strange. “Gonna write about me in your diary now, Joshua?” 

Josh pretends to laugh with a clipped “ha ha.” She smirked again, sliding closer to Josh on the bench. Rori grew annoyed and hopped off her lap, slinking off to climb a tree in hopes of finding a squirrel. Sal extended a delicate hand to Josh’s shoulder, beginning to play with the fabric of his shirt. He smiled tightly, not having anywhere to go if he wanted more answers. 

“You said you arrived early?” Josh’s voice is high as he feels her touch moving down his arm. Thankfully, being an angel kept him from feeling her entire influence, but her physical touch was enough to feel something…unholy. He didn’t want to imagine her abilities on mortals. “What did you mean?” 

“You’re fun,” She beamed. “If I show you some tricks I picked up in Hell, will you show me something?” 

“It depends what you want to see,” Josh tries to be diplomatic. 

Her head throws back in laughter. “Not that. No, I want you to want me to see that.” Her hand wanders to his wrist and toys with the bracelet before slinking to his thigh. Her voice was low and sultry, lips pressed to his ear. “Desperately.” 

Josh was starting to feel like he might have to leave. His breathing had turned shallow and he couldn’t stop staring at the carnelian stone hanging between her breasts. Her hand’s touch left him and she laughed again bringing him out of his reverie. 

“Hell, you’re pretty cute…I was a 27 club member.” She shrugged, turning away from Josh to stare out at the people again. “Had my heyday in the late 60s/early 70s and went out the same way I lived. Fast.” 

Josh thought about the 60s and the 70s. He’d admit those decades were a bit of a guilty pleasure for him. Nashville had been fun, not as crowded. He watched her again, seeing her eyes narrow looking at the couples and the groups of friends. 

“You weren’t from here?” 

“LA. Broadway’s kinda like the Sunset Strip, just a bit more loser-y…NashVegas, just like Liv said.” 

Josh was about to protest, but refrained, letting her reminisce. She did miss her friends from back then. They’d gotten up to so much trouble. Sometimes too much. 

“Best of times, worst of times kind of thing y’a dig?” She tapped the heel of her boot like she was trying to shake off something unpleasant. “Just glad I had my dog for most of the time. He followed me everywhere and everyone’d let ‘im in because he was such a doll. Died ‘bout three years ‘fore me.”

The more she spoke the more her accent of a bygone era of California popped up. Josh couldn’t deny how sweet she sounded when she spoke about that thing, demonic as the pair of them were. 

“How long’ve you’ve been up–er, down here?” She asked, barely realizing she had to correct for him. 

Josh cast his eyes to the sky, thinking. “Since the beginning. That’s like, 8000 human years, I believe.” 

“Get the fuck outta town!” She exclaimed, jumping in her seat to face him. Her eyes were alight with hellfire. “You’re a proper angel then?” 

Josh chuckled. “They don’t really take new hires upstairs, I’m afraid. Only very special occasions. It doesn’t happen much these days.” 

She regarded him for a moment, inventorizing him again now that she deemed him far more interesting than before. “Yeah, I was on a special list when I came down. Only a few others in my line, everyone else had to wait in this huge waiting room. It was…repulsive and I’ve been in the alley behind the Whisky.” 

Josh tilted his head, looking over her once more. He felt like he should know her, but he couldn’t understand from where. She looked so familiar. Her hair seemed to shift every so often and he couldn’t be sure if it was the light or mood dependent. He didn’t prod at her mentioning the special treatment in Hell, didn’t want to alert her to the fact, that from what he knew, that was extremely rare.

“Have you told your demon friend about me yet?” She asked.

“He’s not my friend,” Josh responds automatically. 

Her eyebrows raise as she turns her head back to him, scanning him for understanding. A killer upon its prey. 

“Secret lover?” She guesses. 

Josh can’t hide his face of disgust. “Jesus! No!”

“Homophobic?” She asks with a look of distaste. Not being for the gays was so not groovy. Half the musicians she hung out with back in the day were gay. And she wasn’t one for choosing when it came to sexuality. 

“No!” Josh cries. “I am more than an ally to that cause, not that angels really have sexualities…it’s just.” He sighs, rubbing at his neck confusion. “He was, is–I don’t know, my twin.” 

“Oh!” She beams, eyes once again lighting up in intrigue. She enjoyed learning things, it helped for using it against people at the end of the day. “So he’s also a proper demon. Fell and all that.” 

“Yeah, don’t remind me.” He sounded pained, as if he was reliving the entire thing. 

“Wow…” She blows out a breath. “That must be funky.” 

She continued when Josh said nothing. “Y’know ‘cause he’s your brother but also he’s–” She finished her statement by sticking her pointer fingers through her hair and wiggling them around. 

“Yes, I am aware.” Josh shakes his head. 

She stood up and stretched her arms over her head, revealing her stomach below the flowy lace top she was wearing. “Great catch up, I guess, angel. Wanna trade tricks later? I’ve already worked through most of the main bars here and I’m getting bored.” Nothing was keeping her interest, since every place she had to transform into her liking. 

“You want to hang out with me? You want to hang out with an angel?” 

She grinned, turning around herself once before dropping her arms and stalking back towards Josh, standing directly in front of him. She leaned over him, watching him straighten his neck and swallow thickly. His eyes flickered from her face to the carnelian again. 

“Everyone else is too easy around here. I need a challenge.” Her lips were right in front of his. “You seem like the perfect remedy for a wayward soul like me.” 

-

Josh wasn’t exactly sure why he agreed to meet the demon at some speakeasy she said she needed to try. He wasn’t fully sold on calling her ‘Sal’, something about it felt off to him. She didn’t even really seem to care for it either. Jake, he knew, was vehement that he wished to be called Jake. 

Jake was probably why he had come to the back door of a pizza joint that was actually the door to the underground speakeasy. He’d asked for more information on her. When Josh had inquired why Jake couldn’t just do it himself, his twin finally fessed up that he was actually not currently in Nashville at all. Leaving the heavy lifting to Josh, like always. 

Begrudgingly, Josh entered another bar with plans to meet a demon. Heaven forgive him. It was smokey inside the brick-walled cavern. Small candles lit the tabletops and narrow bar top. A small dance floor was packed as people danced slowly to a jazz band. In the corner of the room, he saw her hair almost glowing in the dark and he made his way over. 

She was dressed in a black pantsuit, with no undershirt, just a black lace bra and her same necklace. Rori wasn’t present, from what Josh could see, but based on their conversation earlier he had a feeling the demon dog was around, lurking. 

She groaned when she saw what Josh was wearing. 

“Angel, man, do you have any other clothes besides that?” She shook her head in disappointment. 

“Of course I do,” Josh huffed, looking down at his clothes not understanding what was wrong with them. 

“Change.”

“I can’t perform miracles just to change my outfit. That’s wrong.” 

“That’s wrong, it’s wrong,” She parrots what she thought was becoming Josh’s mantra. “God, Heaven sounds so stifling.” She rolled her eyes and snapped her fingers with impatience.

In an instant, Josh was dressed in a red velvet jumpsuit with sequins around the neckline. His arms were on full display, muscles bulging while the velvet hugged his torso and lengthened his height. He smooths at his hair and feels something come off his skin. On his hand, he sees glitter. He looks at her again and then down at his new clothes. She was eyeing the bulge veering to his right thigh. 

“Much better.” She grins. 

Josh rolls his hand in front of him quickly, almost like a benediction, and once again his outfit has changed. Now, he was in a cream and grey jumpsuit that was far less flashy of his own with his favorite sigil emblazoned on the chest. He left the glitter and sat down. 

Her unamused look makes Josh feel a little hot with shame. 

“A little miracle to make sure I don’t look like a demon can be forgiven.” 

“You looked foxy but whatever.” She rolls her eyes and flicks a hand at the table, producing a bottle of red wine for both of them. “You drink, surely. C’mon, don’t act like your demon brother hasn’t corrupted a few of those precious angel feathers.” 

Josh can’t help the smile that falls over his face. Not sure what was so endearing about her at this moment. The romantic jazz might have something to do with it. He loved jazz. He takes the drink gratefully and they sip in companionable silence. She was subdued. 

With one bottle down, they start a second and this is when she offers to show Josh a trick if he’ll show her something again. He shrugs in compliance, feeling well on his way to drunk. 

“But won’t the other people in here see?” He adds. 

“No, they all know to mind their own business. Plus, it’s dark in here.” She winks and suddenly Josh is staring at only her head. 

He can seriously only see her head and neck. She moves closer to him and now Josh is certain, she’s made her body disappear. She was a dishonest-to-god floating head. Her head glowed gold for a moment as she twirled in a complete 360 to really show herself off. Josh’s eyes were as wide as possible trying not to cry out in amazement. Then the rest of her body reappeared, straddling Josh’s lap. With her arms draped over his shoulder, her all black soulless eyes gazed into Josh’s, practically paralyzing him with her fiery warmth and intensity. 

“So what do you think, angel?” 

“I, uh,” Josh stuttered. He placed his hands firmly on her hips and moved her off of him. “That’s impressive. What’s it good for?” 

“S just fun,” She shrugged, undetered by Josh removing her from his lap. “Let’s dance and then you can show me your wings or something.” 

Josh didn’t have time to protest, as she grabbed his wrist with one hand and their second bottle of pinot noir in the other. 

She took a swig before letting it float in the air beside them. Her body swiveled around the dance floor, placing herself in Josh’s arms as he swayed respectfully. She sighed and sunk into the movement, drinking from the bottle every so often. When the song changed, she turned to face Josh, handing the wine to him. He drank obediently, which she felt was a triumph. 

Hands draped over his shoulders again, she pressed her body against his. He was strong, she could feel his toned stomach. Her regular eyes met his and she tipped her nose against his. He looked stoicly back at her, determined to be friendly but not fall into the trap she was so clearly laying for him. 

“You’ve got so many defenses up,” She whispers. “Why not do what you want for once? Loosen up. Indulge.” 

Josh smiles down at her and moves his lips to her ear. Polite as ever, he speaks soothingly. “I am having a lovely time with you, Sal.”

She groans, pressing his hands to her hips again, where the curve of her ass was. “I can gaurantee you’ve never had what I’m offering you…” 

Josh smiles knowingly, unconvinced. “I’m afraid I’m above your temptations. Is seduction your main area of expertise?” 

She glares at him, but there’s a glint in her eye. She loved the chase. The difficulty. 

“Debauchery in general, but with how many people wanted to have sex with me in my first life I have a specialization in seduction and desire.” 

He shrugs, moving his hands to a respectful place on her waist. His touch is light, but she feels the pressure of his thumbs pushing at the exposed skin. She smirks and snakes her lips up to his ear. 

The gold hoop glints and she flicks her tongue over it. “I could just show you what you’re missing. If you’d allow me to put it in your mind, we wouldn’t actually do it. You’d be in complete control. Halo intact. C’mon just a few images…it’ll be informative.” 

Josh sighs as the tug of her teeth on his earring. She was bad. Terribly good at her job. He understood why she was here. Jake wasn’t even in town. Damn him. If he did his job a little better, Josh wouldn’t be contemplating allowing a demon into even a small recess of his mind. But, Jesus, did he want to just see it. If it wasn’t real, it wasn’t really a sin to indulge. 

She stares at him, waiting for his response. Her hands run over his shoulders and chest. The music swells and Josh’s hands tighten on her waist as he looks up to the ceiling, praying for forgiveness. 

“For educational purposes,” He starts and she grins. “I will allow you to show me how you do your job. So that I may be able to thwart your wrongdoings better.” 

“It’s just a little sex,” She licks her lips. “Igniting passion in people makes more babies for you to teach heavenly values or whatever. God likes sex, Josh.” Her voice is sickening, it was like she was dripping in a delicious scent that Josh can’t get out of his head. Twisting his values and her intentions into something evil that somehow made wicked sense.

He’s been careful to only open up a small piece he knows he can close, but he almost loses his footing when he finally feels her stinging lips on his. She licks into his mouth and he’s about to protest before the images begin to flow through his mind. 

‘Good thing your brother doesn’t have to transfer information like this, huh?’ Sal says within Josh’s mind. 

Guiltily, he feels himself laughing. Though his physical body is still locking lips with her. 

The room she brings him to in his mind is dark, a red lamp in the corner where two bodies are rolling around. Sighs of ecstasy filling his ears. The smell of sex hanging in his nose.

‘You’re really missing out, angel. Could show you the best thing life, and death, has to offer.’ Her voice is softer in his mind. 

The scene changes. He’s staring up at her above him. Her hips are working over him steadily as her naked breasts bounce in front of him, her necklace is the glowing light now. Her voice is sinful as she moans praises for Josh. How good he feels, how big he is, how strong he is. The scene changes and he’s driving into her with her legs over his shoulders, she’s smiling sweetly up at him with her mouth open, repeating his name like a prayer. It shifts and she’s pressed face down in the grey silk pillows, her body spread out for him as he grunts and growls, thrusting ceremoniously into her as she screams for him to keep going. It’s melodic, every bodily sound and the scene of their physical bodies uniting is hypnotic. Like it was pre-ordained that he would fit so well inside her. He feels euphoric as it shifts once more. She is back on top, his hips press up into her as she grinds down. Their faces are pressed together as Josh holds her body close to him. Arms enveloping her fragile frame. The room is quiet as they are pressed skin to skin, her lips meeting his gently. Sharp gasps escape their trembling lips.

‘Okay, enough,’ Josh pushes away from the scene, feeling both aroused and confused. 

In the speakeasy, she pulls back from the kiss with a wipe of her lips. She runs her hands through her hair as she watches Josh. She had shown him every one of his fantasies, placing herself at the center of them. They weren’t particularly raunchy, it was all about connection to him and for once she didn’t tease. 

“I like you, Joshua,” She says, truthfully, allowing him to pull their bodies a little apart. 

He was flustered and confused and embarrassed, but he also didn’t want to run. She had kept her word, shown him a few things and left. He didn’t fully understand the words she had just spoken.

He shakes his head, an awkward smile on his lips there on accident, and she stares at him wistfully. 

“I haven’t had someone in my mind in a very long time.” 

“It’s okay,” She soothes. “You really are an angel. Maybe on this earthly plane for too long since you clearly have carnal desires, but they were sweet. Every man’s mind I’ve looked into had vile and cruel desires…” She paused, looking past Josh. “Even in my first life, all the men I knew wanted to hurt the women they supposedly loved.” 

Josh’s eyebrows shot up in shock. 

“The closest you got to dirty was having me in do–”

“Okay!” Josh cut her off. “I think it’s time to call it a night.” He turned and walked swiftly through the crowd, parting easily for him–definitely not a misuse of his miracles. 

“Fine,” She grinned wickedly and whistled for Rori, sauntering after Josh. 

Back on the street, it could’ve been daytime with all the lights compared to the speakeasy. She squinted her eyes in distaste, thriving in the dark and wishing she had brought her sunglasses.

Josh was turned away from her so she tapped on his shoulder, wanting his attention. Wanting to see him again. He turned slowly and the look on his cherubic face was troubled. She frowned, about to ask what got his wings in a twist. 

A shadow stepped into Josh’s light. His hair was long and messy, in need of a wash. His silver jewelry shined heavy on his tanned chest. His black button up was almost completely open exposing his torso and he held a wide-brimmed black hat loosely in one hand and a guitar case more carefully in the other. His eyes flashed yellow when he spotted Y/N.  

She straightened her posture under his gaze and gave him a defiant look. Rori growled, but stayed behind her legs. 

Jake ran his tongue over his bottom lip, taking in the woman shaped devil before him. “You must be the new demon in town.” 

She tilted her head at him and looked between Josh and Jake. “And you must be your brother’s keeper.” 

He took a menacing step closer, narrowing his eyes at his angel of a brother before returning his gaze to her. “Something like that. Now, farewell…or don’t, I don’t care.”

She opened her mouth to speak again but no sound came out. 

His eyes flashed again as he turned on his heel and said tersely, a command, “Josh.”

The pair disappeared into fog that had appeared as suddenly as the older demon along the nighttime sidewalk and then she watched it dissipate moments later, leaving no trace of the creatures. The men. The angel and the demon.

-

to be continued... join the taglist

[sarilolla]

Now I'm thinking about Pop Trolls and what happened with them... I love making it clear in my fic that what happened with the Bergens affected them, to various degrees.

Small ramble? I guess? It's not completely cohesive

In Hanahaki, they make peace with the Bergens, but most older Trolls are still anxious around them, and only Bridget and Gristle actually know where the village is and they never go in.

In Different Beat I'm at a bit of limbo, I can see them helping Bridget which would help King Gristle and it dominos into the Bergens being happy, but there won't be a positive relationship between the two species.

In Experiment Pop... well, Bergens are genuinely huge bad guys there, and there's no way the Pop Trolls would ever willingly interact with a Bergen. There's more trauma than just Trollstice, and it affects the newer generations too meaning they can't fully get away from what happened.

I have more aus that I haven't posted but Bergen relations are spotty or bad there too, so... I guess I just think they should have been affected more

So it's all different, which is the joy of aus, but something I don't like is how glossed over the trauma of Trollstice is in the movies and the series. How long were the Pop Trolls captured and eaten? The franchise doesn't give us a definitive answer, but from context clues I would say a decade or two at the bare minimum. The first movie starts with the story where it's shown the city is built around the Troll Tree. They wouldn't get such an established city in so little time, I refuse to believe that. Trollstice was so integral to them, that the adult Bergens in the beginning of the first movie seemed like they had had a Troll their entire lives. I refuse to believe the Bergens showed up between BroZone breaking up and Rosiepuff being eaten

I want to say that realistically, the Pop Trolls were captured for 80-130 years. It may seem like a lot, but it is what makes most sense to me (feel free to debate me on that and provide your own speculated timeline). The timeline just... doesn't work properly? We don't have any set points to look at, except that in the first movie the escape was 20 years ago, and between World Tour and Band Together a month has passed. This makes it so I can fuck around with the timeline as needed, but they could have given me more to work with. So the only timeline I am working with is that at the escape, the Pop Trolls had been stuck with the Bergens for nearly 130 years, the whole Music schism happened almost 200 years ago (and while they were with the Bergens there was a generation or two who didn't even know other Trolls existed), and the Strings were made around 250 years ago? But that also doesn't fully fit with how a society evolves, so might have been even longer between all of this?

Anyway... Back to the Pop Trolls and how the Bergens and Trollstice affected them

I love making jokes in my stories about how desensitized the Pop Trolls are to death and destruction of their home. I love writing other Trolls' reactions to that. It's fun and morbid at the same time. Like the other genres can be as pissy as they want about Pop's attempted takeover so many years ago, but in a cynical way, they got their karma... Other genres had places to be safe, evolve in their own time, no huge threats, but the Pop Trolls lost that, and you can't tell me that wasn't lost for a long time

I firmly believe the Pop Trolls don't have an actual cemetery, but rather a field of flowers planted in remembrance, a Memorial. Flowers planted for the ones lost, but no bodies buried with them. Just a flower representing who they were and what they meant to their loved ones (which brings in my headcanon that flowers and flower language is a big part of Pop Troll culture). It's just in the past 20 years they actually have had bodies to bury, and those are few and far between

...I had a point to this ramble, I think. I think Trollstice and Pop Troll history is my fictional roman empire, it has genuinely gone in and out of my head since the first movie. It just hits hard

[dervaaas]

You broke up, but you still attend his matches

Character: Kenyu Yukimiya

wn: Hint at moments before blue lock, match with U-20

Part 1 with Kenyu Yukimiya!

the following: Hyoma Chigiri, Rin Itoshi, Yo Hiori, Meguru Bachira, Shoei Baro

P.S. This is a small problem in translation from my language. Lock translates quite differently, it would be better to say as castle, so we use prison for the most part. So Blue Lock will in fact be translated as a Blue Prison. I'm sorry if I explained it badly!

He himself does not understand the reason why he decided so. And it was right after he learned quite unpleasant news. Perhaps it happened on emotions that, by the way, he did not try to restrain.

— Can we break up?

Not to say that she had a good relationship with his parents, but they were quite friendly, so she learned information about his stay in Blue Lock from them. Quite a mixed feeling, yes, he said that he wanted to become a better striker and this is his best option for becoming one, but at the same time there was some kind of offense. Although she herself could not understand why.

Soon it will probably be a year since they last saw each other. And the news about the Blue Lock match against U-20 has already spread all over Japan. The funny thing is that his parents gave her a ticket, with the words: "Go, he may be stubborn, but he definitely still loves you." It's not that don't want to trust these words, rather on the contrary, she knows perfectly well what Yukimiya is.

A place in a not so busy place as the same fans. At the break of the first half, nearby I heard a woman shouting to her son to play better, apparently he is also from Blue Lock, nothing more than an assumption. Yukimiya is talking to one of her teammates. And now she doesn't even know if it's worth shouting his name, although as a fan it should hardly stop her.

— Yukimiya! — She didn't shout too much, but perhaps closer to the stands from the field she should have been heard. The guy looked a little confused in the direction where his name is, of course there are a lot of his fans here, but the voice was much different from everyone. The voice he was used to hearing.

— Oh, is someone playing with you, too? The three adults stared at her with interested faces.

— Oh, yes, mine.. an acquaintance," she was taken aback by this, I would like to say that "ex-boyfriend", but it's better if they ask even more questions.

— Oh, and who is he playing for? — A younger-looking woman asked.

— For Blue Lock, number five, I'm probably not sure what I saw correctly..

— What good news, we need to thank him, since he is playing with our boys! — the woman is already older, she babbled excitedly.

— I'll tell him somehow, — the girl thanked them for their words.

There was still the same commotion on the field, little did she know that her scream had reached the guy, well, not only him. Perhaps they started teasing him and asking who it was. According to their assumption, either a fan, or he still has a girlfriend, and he was silent! A particularly interesting point is that he was excited by her presence, if he says that he didn't miss her, he will lie.

The match ended with the victory of Blue Lock. Seriously, this was probably the most exciting game she's been on in a while.

He learned about the meeting from his parents, for some reason, according to them, the girl could not transmit the information herself. Place, time and possible options if he cannot be present on that day. I have provided for most of it.

— Hello.

— Hi, it was a great game, I haven't seen you play for a long time, — the girl sipping a cocktail from a straw, looked at the guy in front of her. Still handsome, tastefully dressed.

— Why did you come? — without much ceremony, without asking how things are going for her now. Nothing, just an interesting question, why all this, if they have long given a reason to abandon this relationship.

— Can't I watch football? — the girl bowed her head, there was an interesting note in her voice, — although you know, I just want to talk. You still haven't told me the reason for the breakup, I need to know what I did wrong.

"It's not your fault. — After mumbling thoughtfully, I thought for a while and decided to say: — I have vision problems due to fatigue, my visibility decreases, and if I continue to play football as a professional, I will lose my sight altogether. When I found out, something came over me and I started to get into trouble about it, - the guy put his hand on the table, rubbed her weight, thinking, was it worth talking at all?

Yes, he knows how understanding she is, but she does not forgive mistakes, and if this is his mistake? He did not say the reason for his actions. Why is he so worried about this? It seems like I've been buying my feelings for a long time, but still somehow uncomfortable.

— That's it? Yuki, it's not even a problem if you ever can't see me or the surroundings. At least I can tell you what it all looks like. — The girl stretched out the words in a puzzled way, not understanding at all what can be said about it. Support him? But he seems to have resigned himself, support is unlikely to change anything now. — And yet I was offended!

The girl turned away from the guy with a sulky look. Which caused Yukimiya to be surprised. She plays with him, which becomes clear when she smiles and laughs at him. He'd really be lying if he said he didn't miss her. Does the thought of how he lived this year at all slip through?

— Well.. you have every right.

"That's stupid, especially on your part.

— That's right. I don't know how to say it, it was too much for me, and I should have been alone and not say such words. — Kenyu sighed heavily, realizing that he had seriously screwed up so much. — And by the way, I didn't want this, he says, on emotion or something..

— Yeah, I know, I just didn't think it would last a year and plus you'd go to some kind of prison*.

"This is the Blue Prison, Blue Lock*," Yukimiya points at her with her finger and corrects her.

— I don't care at all. And I've also come up with a way to redeem you! We're going on a date right now! The girl spread her arms out to the sides, completely proud of herself. — And don't you dare leave, you wrote yourself that you are free all day. Yukimiya only laughs at her a little. But he is clearly not going to leave, although honestly there was an idea to talk and leave if everything goes wrong, which is what he was waiting for most of all. — By the way, thank you from some women.

"Who are they?" Yukimiya was genuinely surprised. Moreover, these are women, not girls, as is usually the case.

— Honestly, no idea at all; it turns out we met during the match, — the girl shook her head, making a shocked face, as if saying: "I experienced such horror from the conversation!". — Apparently they also had someone playing for Blue Lock. — The guy just grinned, and Y/N looked at him puzzled, expecting some explanation, but got nothing. Kenyu changed the subject.

Needless to say, she was really able to get him out on a date that wasn't even in her plans at all? But in any case, this is what they both needed. After a year, they realized that they were too attached to each other, to such an extent that it was difficult to maintain self-control over their actions. Yes, my God, Yukimiya had a place in his notes where he writes to her while she was using his account from which he lost his password a long time ago.

How many words were there about their love for each other? Uhm... A difficult question.

[thxnews]

UK Enacts Live Animal Export Ban

The UK has passed the Animal Welfare (Livestock Exports) Act, banning the export of live animals for slaughter and fattening. This legislation, receiving Royal Assent on May 20, 2024, aims to enhance animal welfare standards and capitalize on post-Brexit freedoms.  

Animal transporter with a lady driver. Photo by KMW2700. Flickr.  

Introduction

The UK government has officially banned the export of live animals for slaughter and fattening, marking a significant milestone in animal welfare legislation. The Animal Welfare (Livestock Exports) Act, which has received Royal Assent, will prevent the often stressful and inhumane transport of livestock across long distances.   Background and Legislation Details The new legislation is a result of years of campaigning by animal welfare groups and public demand for better treatment of animals. It is part of the government's broader commitment to improving farming practices and ensuring ethical treatment of livestock. The law specifically targets the export of live animals for slaughter and fattening, which has been criticized for causing unnecessary suffering. The Act ensures that animals will be slaughtered domestically in high-welfare UK slaughterhouses, reinforcing the nation's position as a world leader in animal welfare standards.   Key Provisions of the Legislation - Export Ban: The primary focus of the legislation is to ban the export of live animals for slaughter and fattening. - Animal Welfare: The law aims to reduce the stress and suffering experienced by animals during long-distance transport. - Enforcement: Strict measures will be in place to enforce the ban and ensure compliance by farmers and exporters.  

Steve Barclay meets with BioNTech. Photo by UK Government.  

Statements

Environment Secretary Steve Barclay stated, "Our new Act makes use of post-Brexit freedoms to deliver one of our manifesto commitments and strengthen these standards even further by preventing the export of live animals for slaughter and fattening, which we know causes animals unnecessary stress and injury."   Chris Sherwood, Chief Executive of the RSPCA, said: “After more than 50 years of campaigning, we are absolutely thrilled to see that live export of animals has been banned from Great Britain. This means British animals will no longer be sent on gruelling journeys abroad for further fattening and slaughter in cramped and poor conditions with little or no access to food or water. “As one of the first countries in the world to abolish this practice, this vital step for animal welfare sends an important message globally and we hope to see other countries follow suit soon. “As we mark our 200th anniversary as a charity and look to the future of animal welfare, it’s great to see this outdated practice is finally consigned to the past. This ban marks a huge step forward for animal welfare and further shows that we are a nation of animal lovers - who care for every kind. We’d like to say thank you to all our supporters, all those who have campaigned on this issue, and to the UK Government for making this milestone moment for animals happen.”  

Sheep in a field. Photo by Department for Environment, Food & Rural Affairs. Gov.uk.  

Impact on Farming and Export Industry

The legislation is expected to have significant implications for the farming and export industry. While it aims to enhance animal welfare, it will also require farmers and exporters to adapt to new regulations. The government is providing support to help the industry transition smoothly and maintain economic stability.   Future Steps and International Implications The UK government's decision to ban live animal exports for slaughter and fattening could influence international standards and practices. It sets an example for other nations to enhance their animal welfare regulations. Future steps may include further legislation aimed at improving conditions for all farm animals.   In Conclusion The UK's decision to ban live animal exports for slaughter and fattening is a landmark achievement in animal welfare legislation. By receiving Royal Assent, this law underscores the nation's commitment to ethical farming practices and sets a high standard for animal care. As the farming industry adapts to these changes, the welfare of livestock will be significantly improved, ensuring a more humane treatment of animals and potentially inspiring similar actions worldwide.   Sources: THX News, Department for Environment, Food & Rural Affairs & The Rt Hon Steve Barclay MP. Read the full article

[kapi-tanka]

So I’ve been thinking about the Ramirez family again, my mind wonders at what could have caused the rift between them all. They all seem to think the distance between them is for the best, but each have differing reasons for why. 

Andy seems convinced that they don’t need their family, and is better off alone. But I can see in their one good eye, there’s resentment. Resentment and trauma. There’s a sense of abandonment that just emits from them. I get the feeling that Andy has never felt like they belonged anywhere. Even with their family, they never felt understood but I think Andy still loved them. And they loved Andy back, even if Andy couldn’t see it. 

Oscar seems convinced he isn’t good enough to be around his family, and they’re better off without him. There’s guilt under his fun loving and free spirited persona. Oscar loves his younger sibling, I can tell, but he never asked for the responsibility of being an older brother. 

Ovidio is the hardest for me to read. Maybe that’s why I didn’t realize he’s their uncle and not the eldest sibling lol. I can’t say why but I just feel that Ovidio caused the rift between them all, or at least played a significant hand in it. Ovidio seems to want someone to kill for. He wants someone whose name can justify his actions, but none of his family want to be that someone. 

Anyways, that's just my interpretation of your wonderful characters! Sorry that this is a bit long lol. I hope I got some of it right and I look forward to the next piece!

oh my GODD honestly it's insane how accurately you read all of my characters. i'm so so so humbled someone's invested in their story, thank you SO MUCH for you interest and your ask! i'm very sorry it took so long to answer, it's a bit hard to collect my thoughts.. but i truly appreciate your analysis! i made this scheme to support info under the cut. i must warn you that this story's a bit dark in a domestic way and... it's really long lol

so. you're mostly right about ovidio causing the rift! i hope i'm not ruining it for you by telling, i know that stories often seem much more interesting before we know any specific details. but basically the actual tragedy of the ramirez family has it roots not in the interpersonal drama (though it definitely played a significant role in everything) but in the ncr and fallout politics in general. all of them used to live in some independent settlement in california, with its own militia, farms, crop fields and traders before the ncr annexed them. the republic put this settlement through their standard modus operandi with enforcement of taxes and recruiting of many promising and not so promising youngsters in the army, including ovidio who was around 18 at the moment (i even have this sketch below with some arcade and ovidio bonding which kinda summarizes it)

mateo and ramona were traders. obviously, the ncr started to suck resources from the settlement (mostly crops and animal products) and they needed caravans to transport them. ramona and mateo (and some other settlers) took the job and both eventually were killed in one unfortunate trip by raiders (which at least partially are the aftermath of ncr's actions in california and nevada imo). so, as you said, andy was lonely and abandoned from very early on in their childhood. they were raised in this post-annexation "world" where their parents almost never had time for them and were never home. oscar was a bit more fortunate (he's 5 years older and had his chance to spend some quality time with mom and dad) and naturally he took their death harder than andy. ovidio was demoted from the ncr army (it's the whole other story) and came back to provide for children and his own parents. he was around 20 at the moment, oscar was 12 and andy only 7. the three of them grew to love each other with time but it was a baffling shift in family dynamics because oscar and andy were relatively independent kids and had never spent much time with ovidio before.

also oscar really wanted to accompany caravans himself (to get away from home a little and out of sheer curiosity about the world) and ovidio just wasn't having it. it literally was the same conflict between them over and over, so andy had to listen to constant bickering and drama which left a lasting impact on her psyche. the second thing that really traumatized andy was abuela's dementia - this slow decay of the mind of someone who was once very clever and loving. and the third thing... well. once upon a time oscar just LEFT after some especially heated argument and it changed everything once again. he didn't plan to run away for real, just wanted to party a little, to teach ovidio a lesson and to come back home. but he ended up meeting someone cute and kinda postponed and postponed his return to the point of never coming back LOL (he did kinda come back later but... spoilers). just like you guessed, he didn't believe his family needed him because his experience at home was basically doing hard labor and being yelled at. of course his family actually loved him and everyone was scared shitless about him including other settlers but... he never got to know that. he dissappeared without a trace because good luck to anyone who looks for a "dark-haired, dark-eyed lad of medium height" on the wastelands. ovidio didn't find him back then but he really tried, and his life became pretty much centered around this desperate search for oscar. andy grew up into a capable, cold and emotionally unavailable young adult by then. but her brother's escape was like a nail in the coffin of the avoidant attachment style. imagine 1) never having your parents around and losing them to the wastelands, 2) losing your grandma to dementia and seeing her literally not remembering your anymore, a fate worse than death in andy's opinion, 3) losing your brother to the wastelands too but this time he "deliberately" left you 4) losing your uncle to this obsession with finding your brother. andy AGAIN, JUST LIKE YOU SAID felt abandoned by others. they were a shadow, not noticed by anyone, not being anyone's priority, overworked at home, without any way to decide something for themselves. and it was the turning point when poor abuela fell sick and finally died. andy lost her last anchor to the hometown that stopped feeling like home a long time ago. and yeah. whoopsie. she left too! it was the first real decision in andy's life, a hard call to make yet a weirdly freeing one.

later on ovidio dropped what was left of the caravan business altogether and left their settlement too, this time to search for both "kids" who were adults at this point. that's how the things still are during the fnv events - the ramirez family is separated, all of them found some surrogates of familial relationships and left their impact on the political map of california and nevada. they reunite only after the independence ending (achieved by oscar). and speaking of your other observation: "Ovidio seems to want someone to kill for. He wants someone whose name can justify his actions, but none of his family want to be that someone" - it sounds more like how things play out after the big reunion. but... that's a whole other story :) thank you so much for reading and, once again, for this ask! had great time answering!!!

[spacetimewithstuartgary]

New SpaceTime out Friday

SpaceTime 20240503 Series 27 Episode 54

Oldest evidence yet of Earth’s magnetic field

Geologists have uncovered ancient rocks in Greenland that bear the oldest remnants of Earth’s early magnetic field.

Scientists find Jupiter’s moon Io has always been volcanic

A new study has shown that Jupiter’s Galilean moon Io has always been volcanic.

Eclipse projects shed new light on solar corona

Scientists around the globe are continuing to sift through data collected from the Solar Eclipse which swept across North America in early April.

The Science Report

Short sleepers could be at higher risk of type 2 diabetes.

A new study has found that nearly half of China’s major cities are sinking.

New data shows older adults with Attention-deficit/hyperactivity disorder more likely to be in a car crash.

Skeptics guide to marrying a ghost

Please call for further details or available interview times...

SpaceTime covers the latest news in astronomy & space sciences.

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SpaceTime is also broadcast through the National Science Foundation on Science Zone Radio and on both i-heart Radio and Tune-In Radio.

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SpaceTime -- A brief history

SpaceTime is Australia’s most popular and respected astronomy and space science news program – averaging over two million downloads every year. We’re also number five in the United States.  The show reports on the latest stories and discoveries making news in astronomy, space flight, and science.  SpaceTime features weekly interviews with leading Australian scientists about their research.  The show began life in 1995 as ‘StarStuff’ on the Australian Broadcasting Corporation’s (ABC) NewsRadio network.  Award winning investigative reporter Stuart Gary created the program during more than fifteen years as NewsRadio’s evening anchor and Science Editor.  Gary’s always loved science. He studied astronomy at university and was invited to undertake a PHD in astrophysics, but instead focused on his career in journalism and radio broadcasting. He worked as an announcer and music DJ in commercial radio, before becoming a journalist and eventually joining ABC News and Current Affairs. Later, Gary became part of the team that set up ABC NewsRadio and was one of its first presenters. When asked to put his science background to use, Gary developed StarStuff which he wrote, produced and hosted, consistently achieving 9 per cent of the national Australian radio audience based on the ABC’s Nielsen ratings survey figures for the five major Australian metro markets: Sydney, Melbourne, Brisbane, Adelaide, and Perth.  The StarStuff podcast was published on line by ABC Science -- achieving over 1.3 million downloads annually.  However, after some 20 years, the show finally wrapped up in December 2015 following ABC funding cuts, and a redirection of available finances to increase sports and horse racing coverage.  Rather than continue with the ABC, Gary resigned so that he could keep the show going independently.  StarStuff was rebranded as “SpaceTime”, with the first episode being broadcast in February 2016.  Over the years, SpaceTime has grown, more than doubling its former ABC audience numbers and expanding to include new segments such as the Science Report -- which provides a wrap of general science news, weekly skeptical science features, special reports looking at the latest computer and technology news, and Skywatch – which provides a monthly guide to the night skies. The show is published three times weekly (every Monday, Wednesday and Friday) and available from the United States National Science Foundation on Science Zone Radio, and through both i-heart Radio and Tune-In Radio.

[nachocheesevarga]

Sr. Ávila Season One Analysis

Word Count: 5,971

Warnings: There is a brief mention of necro and n0nc0n and a reference to suic1de, which is part of the plot. This section has a content warning, so you can skip past it!

Ávila season one starts with Roberto  Ávila being already in the hitmen field. I will begin from Roberto’s childhood, at least what is known from Season One, and go from there. As a disclaimer, I am also going by what the English subtitles provided by HBO themselves have translated the show as. I know the Spanish dialogue may be slightly different for localization purposes; however, I am going by the English subtitles as I don't speak Spanish. I will post almost all the clips I mention or reference to my Tumblr blog, @Nachocheesevarga, for those interested. With all that out of the way, let's get started. Not much is shared about Roberto’s childhood in the entire series, regardless of season one. Yet here are things known about Roberto.

 Roberto’s family is clouded in mystery, and there isn’t enough information given, but what is known is that he has a father and a mother. His mother will be brought up in my discussion on season three, as no information is known of her in season one. Roberto’s father seems to have respiratory issues, which an oxygen tank can see. He is seen smoking a cigarette, so it is to be assumed he most likely had gotten it from a long-time nicotine addiction. His father is also in a wheelchair however, this wasn’t always the case. In episode eleven, titled Freud and Ghosts, we get to see the first glimpse of Roberto’s father. His father is supposedly the one who got Roberto to kill first. This is because a man named Robledo shot his father, which is presumably why he is using a wheelchair and not able-bodied. Roberto claims his first kill was because of his father. His killer had his father's voice and drove him to murder Robledo with a baseball bat. The show later on contradicts this statement but I will get to that when I write my analysis on season three. Roberto claims he killed Robledo because “...he showed me in the worst possible way that my dad wasn’t immortal” (Freud and Ghosts 20:00-23:59). Roberto’s father had already paid for the hit so Roberto had gone to return the money which is how he met Moreira which there offered him a job. Once again the show later on has a different contrasting point on if this is all true, but I will mention that once we cross that bridge. Given that Roberto has been in the hitmen business for 15 years, it is assumed that 15 years ago, he killed Robledo, marking that as when Moreira hired him. Before I move on past Roberto’s biological family, I have to talk about Roberto’s sister. I don’t think this was anything more than a one-liner; however, as I am doing this analysis, it is crucial to mention it. In episode nine, titled The Child and the Spiderweb, there is a brief mention of a sister aspiring from a joke. Roberto and the man who works at the scrap yard speak and have playful banter. After this, he mentions that Roberto needs to tell his sister that he is coming over later. This sister is never once brought up again in the entire four seasons. I am chalking this up to be a one-liner, and since it was so early in the show, they didn’t think much about it. However, as it was mentioned, I had to at least talk about it. Next, I will discuss Roberto’s child Emiliano and his wife Maria. 

Roberto and Maria’s meeting is talked about in season two so I will stick to season one only for now. Maria is forty years old confirmed in episode one titled Surprise Party. The episode confirms Maria is forty years old, starting season one. Roberto is confirmed to also be in his forties. While his age isn’t specified, it can be assumed that he is either exactly forty or in his very early forties. I think it’s more plausible that he is also forty, just a couple of months older than Maria. The Priest is who mentions this, stating that Roberto is already forty and should take the job as the Don (A Lousy Job 4:30). Emiliano is confirmed to be seventeen as well in episode six, Reliquaries and Vampires. This means that the youngest, Roberto and Maria had Emiliano when Maria was 23, and Roberto was at least 23, if not a few years older. Maria and Roberto’s marriage date is unknown. However, the day they got married was on August 11th, confirmed in episode thirteen, titled A Child's Gaze. Now, we will look at Roberto’s earlier life. 

Roberto joined the hitman agency when he was at least twenty-five. This would make Emiliano two years old when Roberto started working for Moreira. However, Roberto worked as a police officer before his job as a hitman. In Mexico, the age to become a police officer is 18-35. This can mean that Roberto may have joined the police academy as soon as he graduated and left the police around when Emiliano was born or before Emiliano was two. Roberto worked on the police force with a man named Bermudez. Bermudez, in an altercation shown in a flashback, shot Roberto in the hand, leaving Roberto with a scar on one of his hands (A Lousy Job). Roberto, in this same episode, also seems to struggle with PTSD due to these experiences in the police force. He has a flashback while sleeping and can be seen thrashing in his sleep. He wakes up, and his hands end up on Maria’s neck. Maria isn’t freaking out, only worried about Maria, which has the undertone that this is something that has happened a few times, at least to the extent that Maria is not freaked out by what happens. She instantly calms down Maria holds him gently and tells him that it’s alright (A Lousy Job 33:00). This episode also showcases Roberto showing symptoms of a panic attack as well and when he is tasked with killing Bermudez he is visibly shaky and sweating. Roberto, as mentioned, joined the Hitmen agency around the time he was 25. He tells Ybarra that he is broke and doesn’t have a job at the moment and that is why he is joining the agency. Roberto seemed to initially join the agency because he needed money with a very young child to support and a wife (By the Book). 

Ybarra, in this same episode, is also revealed to be Emilaino’s Godfather and is also the closest person Roberto had. Episode two, By the Book, has some of the most insightful information about Ybarra. Ybarra has been in the business for over twenty years, meaning he has been in the company five years longer than Roberto has. He was also Roberto’s mentor when he learned the ropes. Ybarra is revealed to have an eye problem, causing him to kill the wrong person. Ybarra claimed to have been all over the city and not a single doctor saw anything wrong with his eye (Surprise Party). This is later on in the series, so for those who are aware of what happens, I firmly believe the apostles had planned this and done something to Ybarra’s vision, which led to the mistake that pushed Roberto to kill Ybarra. Killing Ybarra is the first part in which we see Roberto’s mental health slip. When he is told to kill Ybarra, he fights it. Yet when he goes to the Priest, the Priest eggs Roberto into killing him. He also encourages Roberto to take the role of the Don. This pressure makes Roberto murder Ybarra for the rule he broke. Yet in episode one, Surprise Party, Ivan defends Ybarra’s mistake and tries to reason with Moreira on sparing Ybarra. This causes Moreira to snap at Ivan and remind him why they have rules. This is one of the more exciting points because it gets into the next section, the funeral parlor members. 

Ivan was Moreira’s right-hand man. He was working there before both Ybarra and Roberto. Ivan’s relationship with Moreira is fascinating as Moreira was only in the first few episodes. However, it is clear that his death had a massive impact on Ivan. When Ivan finds Moreira’s suicide, he kisses him on the mouth. He is also seen in that episode snorting Moreira’s ashes. Whatever the relationship the two had, it was intense. Ivan becomes much more colder after this. He shows Roberto certain things but is also very reclusive about everything. He cares for the business and clarifies that Roberto is not above that. Roberto may be the Don but he is in no way above the organization. Ivan helps keep things running smoothly. He kills Roberto’s mistress, Maggie, who he is cheating on with Maria. He tortures Emilaino to find out how it will affect the organization. He threatens to put a stop to Maria in case she digs too far and Roberto quickly puts an end to the idea. Ivan is one of the most dangerous characters in the show because he stops at nothing to put the crime organization first. Ana is the mortuary cosmetologist for the funeral home business. She is close with Ivan to some extent. She is reticent in season one. She rarely speaks unless spoken to; when she does, it’s only a few words. Ana is focused on her work and loves to make people remember who they were when they were alive. 

Next, I will be talking about Maggie. Maggie is who Roberto sees while he has his double life. Roberto uses sex as a coping mechanism. When things are stressful at work, and he's had a bad day, he can roughly fuck her. She is more of a vessel for Roberto, who can use her for sex when he is too overwhelmed. It’s not entirely clear when the affair started, but for a good part of Roberto’s life, he is faithful. When mentioned about whoring by Ybarra, Roberto quickly dismisses it by saying he has a wife. Roberto at some point, got into a relationship with Maggie. The affair had been going on for at least six months, as six months ago, Roberto gave Maggie the bracelet (Neither Borge’s nor God). This episode means it’s assumed that the moment he gave her the bracelet, the two officially started seeing each other and went from courting to starting their commitment to being friends with benefits. In episode one, it is also confirmed that Maggie is only thirty years old, a decade younger than Roberto and Maria. Roberto uses sex as a coping mechanism, and when Maggie mentions Maria and says she will tell her about their affair, Roberto is hostile. He threatens to hurt Maggie if she dares to touch and interfere with his family life. When Ivan kills Maggie, Roberto is distraught. He seems to show real emotions as benign distraught and calling her dozens of times. In episode six, Reliquaries and Vampires, Maria wants to engage in sex and asks Roberto as she thinks it might help her feel better, yet Roberto is too focused on Maggie’s whereabouts. He says he's too tired from work and leaves Maria alone. Later on in episode seven, titled To Kill an Immortal, Roberto and Maria engage in sex. It’s rough, and it is something he would have done with Maggie. While the sex scene plays out, Roberto imagines it as Maggie instead of Maria. He is rough with Maria, and afterward, Maria mentions they haven’t done anything that rough in ages. Maria and Roberto seemed to have an okay bedroom life. There were two scenes showcasing their bedroom life. It appears that Roberto uses sex as a coping mechanism and uses Maggie as an outlet for his rage. Roberto, later on in the show, continues these unhealthy trends of using sex as a coping mechanism, and it seems to be one of his most exciting vices. While on the topic of vices, Roberto is seen participating in a dog fight and betting on a dog, and while it is only seen in one episode, the act of violently participating and watching a dog getting torn to shreds when Maggie wasn’t available for him to have sex with is a point to mention.

Now, I wanna dwell on Sanchez. Sanchez is one of the most exciting characters in the show because of his fall from grace. In season one he starts as being very competent. He knows what to do and how to poke the hornet's nest. He can piss off Roberto just by simply being there, and he can pin out Emiliano as being a suspect very quickly. He applies pressure to Emiliano and causes Emiliano to mess up his story by mentioning how the girl is probably already dead. He also is the one who leaks Roberto’s affair with Maggie to Maria. He caused a ripple effect, and out of all the people to have caused Roberto to falter, Sanchez is one of the top characters in this category. Sanchez in A Child's Gaze, Sanchez has been bought out and becomes one of Roberto’s lap dogs after Roberto murders his partner on the police force. He is using a man on the inside of the Mexican police force and using it to his advantage. Since Emiliano is mentioned in Sanchez’s section, I wanna focus on Emiliano. 

Emiliano is one of the more tragic characters as he longs for his father's approval and doesn’t have the proper guidance. Emilinao is seventeen years old. He seems to be a loner in the earlier episodes before he meets Ismael. He is seen getting made fun of and bullied. He sits alone at lunch. Emilino kicked the dog in episode two, By the Book. This was the first episode in which Emiliano clearly needed support. He needed a crutch of support for his anger issues that stemmed from Roberto. He needed a healthy outlet, but Maria’s own anxiety and fear hindered her from being that crutch Emiliano needed. Roberto is too concerned with Ybarra and the offer of becoming the next Don, which leaves him useless in his son's pleas for help. Emiliano was struggling, and he didn’t get that support. After Emiliano cuts a student's ankle with a box cutter, he is kicked out and forced to go to a rougher “delinquent” high school. This is where he meets Ismael. Yet Emiliano does get a talk from Roberto, which looks pretty heartfelt. He explained to Emiliano that holding in your anger can be dangerous. He also assures his son things will be okay. Roberto, for a split second, was human. Emiliano needed that. Yet Emiliano begins to fall into a darker path. Ismael helps him kill “the Beast” so he can date Juliana. Juliana is only playing with Emiliano, and after some pushback from Ismael, Emiliano murders her with a wooden stake. Content warning for the next section, I will be talking about the fictional rape that happens in this show. There will also be a brief mention of attempted suicide. Be warned and move to the next paragraph to avoid this. Stay safe. Emiliano reveals to Ismael that he raped Juliana after he killed her. This is one of the darkest aspects of the first season. This rape is something so dark that doesn’t have much else attached to it other than Emiliano does show to have remorse. He is seen breaking down when he tells Ismael and sobs into his jacket. I think while what Emiliano did was sickening and terrible, he needed serious help. Maria will be mentioned next, but the way she was of no help to Emiliano, and Roberto is so far away in his hitmen's work they leave Emiliano to drown. While his actions may be irredeemable, it is essential to look at how they stem. Emiliano needed to see an actual therapist and get real help when he was showing violent tendencies, but his mental health was neglected. Later on in the show, Emiliano attempts to kill himself. This isn’t a ploy for attention. Emiliano is in severe mental distress. He was abused and tortured by Ivan while being blindfolded. Maria calls Emiliano a monster like Roberto. He is deemed and cast out by his mother. Roberto isn’t much help either, as he and Maria fight, and it causes even more trauma to Emiliano. Emiliano ends up slitting his wrists, attempting to kill himself. Maria found him staring up at the ceiling, waiting to die. This is one of the heartbreaking moments. Maria accuses Roberto of being the reason and trying to get Emiliano to kill himself. Although Emiliano says, he’s alive because of his father. I take this as Roberto saving Emiliano from prison, which is why he says this. Roberto asks Doctor Montes to look after Emiliano. Doctor Montes explains to Roberto that Emiliano did try to end his life, and he wanted to die. He needed reassurance from his father. Montes mentions that Roberto needs to tuck him into bed, leave a light on, and ensure he knows he is safe. Roberto quickly failed Emiliano out of everyone else in his life. He needed that comfort and to feel protected and he didn’t have that. Emiliano dies not from Ismael but from Ivan. Ivan presses down, snaps Emilianos neck and lies to Roberto. This is the foundation of distrust Ivan and Roberto stand on. Emiliano died tragically and was dragged into this crime of life due to not having a support pillar around him.

Maria is the next person that Roberto fails. I think she has one of the most tragic stories. Maria develops anxiety in episode one. She is overwhelmed, and on the day she turns forty, Roberto has planned a surprise party for her, inviting over their friends. Maria is overcome with fear after having a rough day passes out. When she wakes up, Roberto is next to her, comforting her. His love for Maria seems strong, and he calls her loving names, like a princess, as he prepares her an excellent breakfast. Maria, however becomes more and more unwell in the episodes. In episode two, Roberto asks Maria to walk with him after he sees how stressed she is over Emiliano. The gesture is sweet and caring, but Maria declines his offer. This is the same episode where the two are not cuddling in bed. Roberto lays alone on his side of the bed and curls up alone. It is the beginning of the ending for the two. Roberto does try to reach out to Maria but she persists that she is okay. The most exciting thing is how Roberto shows concern yet never acts on it. He is worried about her. He mentions it to the Priest and Ivan, but he refuses to give any push. Roberto will be gentle with her and ask if she has gone out today, and Maria will say no and say she plans to go out tomorrow. Roberto is concerned but also doesn’t act on that. He is too busy with being the Don, and Maria falls deeper into her depressive episode and is consumed by anxiety about the outside world. What they do in the show is interesting because they use television as Maria’s fixation. 

The television isn’t just a source of entertainment but a way for her to still be connected to the world. Maria uses media and the TV as a way for her to get lost away from the real world. Outside of the TV, she has a neglectful husband and a son who is unstable and getting into fights. Inside the TV, she can use it as an escape mechanism and can watch shows that make her laugh or cooking shows. This spirals from her having a panic attack and fainting at her surprise party to not going out for weeks. The television became her connection to other people. Multiple times during multiple episodes, Maria is seen breaking down and crying on the floor, isolated and without her family. They have no food in the pantry or fridge because Maria hasn’t been able to go grocery shopping. When Roberto gives up on trying to get Maria's help, he passively ignores her, with the two facing away from each other.  Finally, their television service is shut off due to an issue with the autopayment not working. Maria is without the one thing helping her dissociate from reality. She panics and begins to search through the whole house and finds Roberto’s wad of cash shoved in one of his jackets. Maria ends up leaving the house to pay for the bill in person, but while there, due to the overestimation and anxiety, she breaks down and throws a trash can, attacking the clerk at the desk. That night Maria is quiet as Roberto goes to comfort her after Emilaino leaves to his room. Maria and Roberto begin to argue once she reveals she found the money. Roberto mentions that he had won it gambling on Emiliano’s birthday when he lied and said he was working. This is untrue, something Maria sees as Roberto never gambled and hasn’t in a long time. This is true as Roberto appears to gamble only in one episode throughout the show, and he does so at a dogfight. 

Roberto encourages Maria to see Doctor Montes and Maria ends up agreeing. In episode eight, titled God's Whims, it is revealed Maria had seen a therapist in the past due to having postpartum depression when she had Emiliano. When Doctor Montes finally sees Maria, he is working under Roberto, focusing on making Roberto look good. He gaslights Maria into believing Roberto and trusting him again. I think how Maria is revealed to be manipulated over and over again in this show is something so profoundly tragic. When Detective Sanchez arrives to tell Maria about Emiliano’s potential involvement in the murder of  Juliana. Sanchez then decides to poke the hornet's nest and reveals the bracelet Roberto gave to Maria was originally for Maggie. This throws Maria into a spiral as she slaps Roberto across the face and locks herself in their bedroom. Roberto tries to reason with her but Maria has no trust in Roberto anymore. He never told Maria about Ybarra’s death, which further puts a wedge in the couple. Roberto is sleeping on the couch, and Maria is deeply hurt.

Maria and Roberto repair their relationship somewhat when Emiliano nearly ends his life. The two reconcile at their house once Emiliano returns home from the hospital. While this should be something sweet, it is cut short when Roberto realizes Ismael is still alive. He requests that Maria go to her sister's house while they sort this out. Maria is hesitant and after a bit of pushback, she reluctantly agrees to go. As Emiliano and Roberto leave, Maria is left alone. As she gets in the car, it is revealed Ismael has been waiting for her. Maria instantly panics and reaches to take her prescribed medicine for her anxiety and panic attacks but isn’t able to. After following Ismael’s instructions, he stabs her with a tranquilizer, paralyzing her body temporarily. She is a limp doll, and Ismael decides to torture her. He first takes her to a food court, where he reveals everything. He tells Maria who Roberto is and how the funeral home is a front for the hitman business. Maria is horrified and can be seen with tears in her eyes as she is faced with the realization that the man she has been married to for over fifteen years has lied to her. Next, Ismael takes Maria to a soccer game. This game is filled with people cheering and hollering, which causes Maria distress. Her anxiety is at an all-time high with the realization that her husband has been hiding his true identity, and with her being in front of a crowd of hundreds, it is her own personal hell. When Ismael leaves to go to the bathroom she makes a break for it. She slowly begins to stumble as best as she can away from Ismael. Onlookers question her stumbling but when she sees Ismael in the corner of her eye, she begins to panic, running into the streets. There, a car accidentally hits her, leaving Maria with amnesia and unable to remember anything. When Roberto gets the call, he gets to the hospital as fast as he can, and when he sees her, Roberto decides to be genuine. He admits to his entire life. It is one of the few times Roberto seems genuine about anything. Yet there it is revealed Maria doesn’t remember who Roberto is. Roberto is distraught and hurt as he curls up with Maria holding her throughout the night. 

When Maria can go home Roberto has Doctor Montes help look after her so she can regain back her memory. Maria instantly recognizes Emiliano's photo but cannot piece together who Roberto is. She becomes volatile and smashes a picture frame over Doctor Montes’ head, claiming that she will always be able to recognize her son. The next most significant moment is when Maria discovers Emiliano’s corpse posed as if he hung himself in their garage. Maria is panicked and frantic screaming at Montes and Roberto. Roberto tries to reassure her that Emiliano is sick and he killed himself, but Maria quickly grabs the gun next to her. While it is off-screen, it is revealed Maria shot Roberto and shot Montes in his left arm; thankfully, Montes is right-handed, unlike Roberto. Roberto tells the priest Maria has gone crazy and explains how he murdered Ismael. For this season, that is where Maria is left. She was deemed crazy and unstable, and living in a designated home, the trauma she went through and hurt wiped away as she seems to have a clean slate now. Now, with all these characters and episode-by-episode synopsizes out of the way, I want to talk about Roberto.

Roberto is one of the last characters I have decided to discuss because I have so much to say about him. As mentioned before, at the very beginning, Roberto joined the police academy, most likely right out of high school. Roberto was groomed into becoming a hitman and into becoming a don. I will talk about this more in-depth in seasons three and four, but it is something so important to me. His own father insinuates that Roberto is to kill Robledo. While Roberto does offer first, it doesn’t make sense why Roberto would offer this, assuming this is around the time he just left the police force. I think he does it because he looks up to his father. Roberto’s father isn’t talked about nearly enough, but Roberto claims that was the first time he was ever killed. He murdered someone because of his father, and when Roberto murders Robledo, it is so violent. He somehow got him into the trunk of his car and relentlessly bashes Robledo with a bat. When the camera next shows Roberto, he is soaked in blood, and his hands are shaking as he lights up a cigarette and dissociates. This is highly similar to Emiliano killing Juliana, covered in blood and shaking, dissociating. Roberto wasn’t always this way, and what made him this way was something shrouded in mystery and only seen in small slivers.

Roberto killing Ybarra was the first foundational stone of Roberto losing everything and would be the kickstarting point for him in his long fall from grace and descent into madness. Ybarra was more than a teacher to Roberto this is the man who was Emiliano’s Godfather and close family friend. Maria was allowed to meet and personally know Ybarra. He attended her fortieth surprise birthday party. Ybarra was close to Roberto, and whether or not that was a problem for the organization or not, they wanted to test Roberto to see if he was capable of killing someone he cared about. Roberto doesn’t deal with any trauma or grief he has. This is a recurring thing in the show where if Roberto is stressed or needs an outlet, he turns to sex.

HBO, while not ever being one to shy away from sexual content, makes it abundantly clear that Roberto uses sex as a coping mechanism. When he has to kill Ybarra, and when he does, he instantly turns to Maggie to fuck and have rough sex with. His facial expression isn’t one of love or compassion but one of anger. He uses Maggie. Roberto, in my opinion, never loved Maggie, but he loved what she stood for. Maggie was Roberto’s personal sex doll and was everything his fake life represented. Maggie is the door that stands between who Roberto is and who he pretends to be. He uses Maggie when he needs to release tension from what is happening. She is young, flirty, and cunning, a dangerous combination that Roberto soon realizes. Maggie does have feelings for Roberto. She wants Roberto to skip Maria’s party so the two can have a night together. She disregards Maria as the woman being cheated on and views her as an opponent. If she can’t have Roberto, then neither should Maria. When Maggie goes ‘missing,’ Roberto is increasingly distraught and irritable, and I think it’s because he realizes that what he had for the last six months is gone. The outlet he had for sex and the outlet that was his escape and a personification of his double life is gone. Roberto imagines while he is having sex with Maria that it is Maggie in her place. This sex is rough, and when Maria tries to take off the bracelet that was once Maggie's, he tells Maria to keep it on. He wants Maria to be just for a night, that same personification that Maggie was. A way for him to relieve his stress. Roberto and Maria’s sex life is something dying. When Maria implies that a night of love with Roberto might make her feel better, he instantly brushes it off because he is concerned about Maggie. He jeopardizes their sex life for Maggie. Roberto does love Maria but he is also a hypocrite.

Roberto and Maria have an interesting dynamic because Roberto will say some of the most breathtaking, heartwarming comments about her, and yet he still cheats. I am very biased as Maria is one of my favorite characters in the show so the way I feel so strongly about how poorly she is treated. Roberto refuses to do good pushback with Maria. He is so clearly concerned about her when she faints and, in the next scene, brings her a beautiful tray of fruits from the party and he calls her princess. He does love her. Yet when Maria refuses to see a doctor, Roberto doesn’t have much else to say and leaves Maria to deal with it on her own. Roberto gets so hyperfocused and swept up in the new position as a don, one he isn’t even sure he wants to take, that he shuts out Emiliano and Maria. 

Roberto says, “And if something were to happen to her, anything, I would burn the world to the ground” (That Day). When Ivan pushes the idea of needing to take care of Maria if she becomes a problem Roberto instantly shuts it down, and he does multiple other times. Roberto loves Maria, but he is so focused on the double life he is living that he hurts and lies to Maria. He has lied to Maria for fifteen years and started cheating at least six months ago. Roberto is also distraught that killing can be an inherited trait. He talks about this multiple times with the Priest, and the Priest instantly shuts down the idea. Roberto treats the Priest's words very highly. He acts as a venting system for Roberto and it is something deeply personal to Roberto to have this outlet. Maria even mentioned that Roberto started sounding like the pope with optimism when she finally left the house. The Priest is someone intertwined with Roberto, and I wanna say more, but that gets into other seasons’ territories. However, when Roberto shares the most intimate details of his life, it is always with the Priest. 

Roberto also has an interesting dynamic with Emiliano. Emiliano’s death leaves Roberto forever changed, and when he sees his son is dead, he is clearly pained. He doesn’t blame Ivan or Ana for what has happened. He is quiet, and I think it is another structure to Roberto that is being torn down. His son was taken away from him by who he thought was Ismael. Roberto trusts Ivan and has no clue about the horrors and lengths that Ivan will go through to keep the business running.

Roberto’s trauma isn’t something dwelled on much in the show, but it is a leading cause of his downfall and his spiral into insanity. He struggles with PTSD flashbacks from being shot in his right hand by his police partner. In a few months, Roberto loses his best friend, son, and the life he once knew. His wife no longer recognizes who he is and is deemed crazy after she shoots Roberto and Montes. He is alienated, and now all he has is the organization, as revealed, Ismael placed multiple hits on Roberto. I think this is clearly where we, as the audience, see that Roberto’s mental health is slipping. He isn’t sleeping much, and the role of the Don is taking a toll on him. Now, he has to face this new chapter of his life without his wife or his son.

Now, the last thing I want to do is quickly go through facts about characters that are known in the show:

Maria is 40

Roberto is at least 40, revealed by the Priest

Maria likes to garden and has roses she takes care of. There are also plants all over the Ávila household.

Roberto likes to do puzzles and has a shed in the backyard where he does them.

In the Ávila household, on their fridge, there is a Pumbaa magnet from the movie The Lion King, confirming that the movie exists in the world and Emiliano liked it as a kid or someone in the family did enough for there to be a magnet of him on the fridge.

Emiliano plays the guitar and claims Roberto isn’t supportive of him.

Emiliano is 17.

Ismael is 18.

Roberto has a scar on his right hand from getting shot by his old police partner.

Roberto was a former police officer

Roberto likes ice cream

Ivan likes ice cream, and his favorite flavor is Rum Raisin 

Maria had postpartum depression after she gave birth to Emiliano

Ybarra is Emiliano’s Godfather 

Brad Pitt canonically exists in the universe 

The show starts in Spring 

Ismael and Maria both have birthdays in the spring 

Roberto and Maria were married on August 11th.

Ana’s phone is orange, Ivan’s red, and Roberto’s silver.

Maria has a sister

Maria’s sister is named Alice.

Emiliano doesn’t remember what Alice looks like.

Roberto makes Maria special sandwiches after sex.

The main ingredient of the sandwiches is butter.

Ismael was 4 when Roberto killed his father/

Roberto doesn’t like “shrinks” and is very hostile to the concept of seeing a therapist.

Roberto smokes weed and cigarettes

Emiliano smokes weed and cigarettes 

 Roberto's father was shot in the leg and is no longer able-bodied.

Roberto and Maggie started their affair at least 6 months ago.

Ivan has insomnia

Roberto never talks to strangers

Roberto doesn't have any social media

Facebook is a canon social media in the universe

Roberto suffers from PTSD from being in the police force.

Maggie is 30

[coochiequeens]

When Jessica Wade was invited to Buckingham Palace to receive the prestigious British Empire Medal, she stood out for being a young woman honored for her contributions to science.

Ironically, she was being honored for trying to change that.

The 33-year-old London-based physicist has become something of a phenomenon herself — both an irresistible force and immoveable object — in her very personal campaign to bring more girls to study and work in STEM (science, technology, engineering and mathematics).

Wade has written more than 1,600 Wikipedia entries for long-ignored women scientists, and she has firm beliefs on ideas on how to support girls interested in the field.

Wade gained notice when, still in her 20s, she began writing the Wikipedia biographies about women and minority scientists who never got their due — from employers, from other scientists, from the public.

As her Wikipedia entries climbed into the dozens, and then into the hundreds, she spoke and wrote more on gender equality in science. She won awards and medals and was cited by Jimmy Wales, the founder of Wikipedia.

However, not all of Wiki-world was happy with her. Several of her entries were deleted by other Wikimedians, as the most influential contributors and editors are called. She told TODAY.com that they said a handful of the women she wrote up were not all that well-known.

Wade said that’s right, that’s the problem: they should be better known.

One example was Clarice Phelps. Wade heard about the young African-American nuclear chemist, and wrote a Wikipedia bio describing her work on a team that discovered a new periodic-table element at the Oak Ridge National Laboratory.

The Phelps entry bounced on and off Wikipedia as critics deleted it and Wade defended it. In the end, Wade won, and Phelps’ entry is back on Wikipedia for good.

Meanwhile, Wade’s own Wikipedia entry — written by others, not her — has grown to 10 printed pages. 

As Wade pursues her effort to make sure women scientists are known, she also has beliefs on how to make sure the next generation gets the support they need. 

She said girls don’t need “whiz-bang” experiments at school assemblies: visiting scientists do their show, pack up, depart and nothing changes. Instead, girls and students of color need to be coached and mentored on what to study, and when.

“People assume girls don’t choose science because they’re not inspired,” Wade, 33, said in a recent interview. “Girls are already interested. It’s more about making students aware of the different careers in science and getting parents and teachers on board.”

Women make up only 28 percent of the U.S. work force in STEM, according to the American Association of University Women, and only one in five current engineering or computer science majors are women. Women in STEM earn $60,000 a year, compared to $85,000 for men, according to the American Association of University Women, a non-profit organization that focuses on equity for women. 

“Ultimately, we don’t only need to increase the number of girls choosing science, we need to increase the proportion of women who stay in science,” said Wade, whose doctorate research at Imperial College in London has been widely cited for advances in digital display technology for TV, computer and phone screens.

One key, she said, is better high school science teachers. “We’re suffering a huge shortage of skills-specialist science teachers across the U.S. and the U.K.,” she said.

Wade said schools should make it easier for girls and students of color to apply for admissions, grants, fellowships and promotions.

“What do you need to do? Who do you need to speak to? When do you need to make that application? Who should be your cheerleader or supporter?”

She believes schools need to be upfront about their policies on bullying and sexual harassment; universities must provide affordable child care on campus; and conference organizers should provide day care and grants for those with caring responsibilities.

Wade, who grew up the daughter of two physicians and had supportive teachers at private schools, realized at a young age that most people were not as lucky.

“I genuinely believe that science is better when it’s done by diverse teams,” she said.

“It’s also important because we’re designing new technologies or new scientific solutions to global problems, we want the teams of people creating them to reflect the societies that they’re serving.”

“Even if you don’t care about any of that, the world desperately needs more scientists and engineers,” Wade added. “Science can help solve the world’s biggest challenges — climate change, antibiotic resistance, emerging pandemic-inducing viruses.”

Looking back on her inclusion in the late Queen Elizabeth’s 2019 Birthday Honours list, Wade hopes young women scientists will become commonplace at future ceremonies.

And she hopes they will enjoy it as much as she did.

“It was pretty wild to be honored by the royal family,” Wade recalled. She didn’t meet the queen, but she did take along her mother, Dr. Charlotte Feinmann, to Buckingham Palace.

Her father, Dr. John Wade, couldn’t attend, but Jess Wade did her best to make it up to him.

“I took a Tupperware,” she confided, “to sneak some royal sandwiches home to my dad.”

[nanowrimo]

What Do You Do After You've Written Your Novel? 6 Tips from Joanna Penn

Every year, we’re lucky to have great sponsors for our nonprofit events. Scrivener, a 2022 NaNoWriMo sponsor, is an award-winning writing app that has been enthusiastically adopted by best-selling novelists and novices alike. Today, they’ve partnered with author Joanna Penn to share some tips on what to do after you finish your first draft:

If you've completed this year's NaNoWriMo, congratulations! But finishing a novel is only the first step on a publishing journey. We spoke with Joanna Penn, author of non-fiction books for authors, as well as best-selling thriller author as J. F. Penn. 

Joanna did NaNoWriMo in 2009, and, while she didn't write 50,000 words, or finish her novel, the experience helped her decide where she wanted to go with her fiction, and how she wanted to develop her career as a writer. Joanna offers six tips for writers who have completed their first novel: 

1. Review your work.

"After NaNoWriMo, I spent the next 14 months in the editing process," Joanna said. At the end of NaNoWriMo, "you've got first-draft material, which you need to then shape into the book you want it to be. About 5,000 of the words that I wrote in NaNoWriMo ended up in the book. But this gave me the seed and the confidence for that first novel; I knew I could sit down and write, and have words that then I could edit later."

2. Formulate your goals.

Writers first looking for publication have choices to make. You can go the traditional publishing route, or you can self publish, and there are many variations of each approach. "If you are set on a traditional publishing deal, then you have to start researching agents. If you are interested in being an independent author, then you can look at self publishing options." 

3. Don't quit your day job.

Joanna is a full-time writer, but it took her several years, and several novels, to reach that point. She started writing in 2006, published her first book in 2008, then took a big initial pay cut when she went full time in 2011. "It's very unlikely that the book you write during NaNoWriMo is going to make you a million and get you a movie deal, so keep your day job while you keep writing." 

4. Do you enjoy writing?

Not everyone is cut out for a full-time career as a writer. Completing NaNoWriMo is a big achievement, but you need to really enjoy writing if you want to make it your career. "I think the question to ask yourself is, 'Did I enjoy writing?'" If the answer is "yes," you need to realize that a writing career won't be built around a single novel. "However you want to publish, it's not about one book, it's about more than one book."

5. If you self publish, you'll be running a business.

Successful self-publishing is a lot more than just writing; you also become a business. "To be successful at self publishing, you have to run a business. And many people don't want to run a business. They would rather have a publisher do the work for them."

6. Model your career on authors you like.

A good way to plan your future is to look how authors you like work and promote their books. "Find authors to model who have a career that you're interested in following. And then start looking at how they do marketing. What are you willing to do for the future that you want? Your decisions around publishing and marketing will come from that."

Joanna Penn is author of How to Write a Novel, and writes thrillers as J. F. Penn. 

Kirk McElhearn is the author of Take Control of Scrivener, and host of the podcast Write Now with Scrivener.

Scrivener provides a full range of writing and editing features at your fingertips, and combines all the tools you need to craft your first draft. All NaNoWriMo participants receive a 20% discount on Scrivener’s regular license by entering NANOWRIMO22 into the coupon code text field in the web store through December 7th, 2022. If you want to try out Scrivener first, you can download a free trial that will run through December 7th, 2022.

[rainpebble3]

Snippets Someday!

Heh, so I think I was tagged by @thequeenofthewinter @dirty-bosmer @mareenavee @archangelsunited for this! Thank you for the tag and I'm happy to be able to get to it :D

Again, I'm not sure who has all been tagged or not so I apologise in advance for the multi tag <3 :) @paraparadigm @kookaburra1701 @orfeoarte @gilgamish @thana-topsy @tallmatcha @snippetsrus @rhiannon1199 @inquisitiondragonborn @the-storytellers-seer @elfinismsarts @friend-of-giants @saltymaplesyrup @changelingsandothernonsense @thelightofmorning

Rules:

Rules: Revisit an old fic (or earlier chapters of your current WIP) and share a snip from: * Your first chapter * Your favorite chapter * Your most challenging chapter Alternatively, if you don't write longfic, feel free to share your one-shots. Provide as much or as little commentary as you want.

Seeeing as I mentioned in another post how precious my character Ailith is in her story "The Flames of Justice" (which is complete on AO3 😇) This story was something that was initially meant to be a 5 chapter intro to my fic Snarling Wolves but a friend betaread those first few chapters and she said she needed more to understand Ailith... so I gave her more. 70 chapters more than the original 5 :D

Despite all that I put her through I adore Ailith's character. She will always be so special with me, even if I'm painfully blocked on her latest adventures!

First Chapter - This is where we get to see some of Ailith in her brattiest state. She was described by some as a bit of a Malfoy!

"Miss Copperwing! Are we boring you?" The irritating voice of her teacher broke into her fantasy as he slammed a book on the desk at the front, making everyone jump. She felt the rest of the class eyeing her, hoping to see her taken down a peg or two. Ailith knew they didn't like her... they hated that she was better than them. She also knew she was the youngest in the group by at least ten years which was hugely resented, and she loved showing off in class.

Ignoring her classmates, she smirked at the stuffy Altmer at the front of the classroom. She released a heavy sigh before answering him. "Just a bit, Mr Spellock..." she drawled. As an added insult, she began to chew on a ragged fingernail.

She could almost taste the disapproval from her classmates as it rippled towards her. They tutted and shook their heads. She didn't care, they were dull morons and she enjoyed watching her teacher squirm. Despite beings an arrogant ass and always talking down to her, he wasn't even a master of anything, he hadn't earned the right to teach anyone.

"Well," he frowned for a second. He ran a hand through his golden hair before smirking, "I suppose, to perhaps save us some time, you wouldn't mind explaining to the class what the consequences of magika burnout are?" The class stared silently between the two mages.

"Burnout, hmm..." Ailith picked at an invisible thread on her robes, sounding bored. She gnawed on her lip and sighed more dramatically than necessary. "I guess that would be when you spread yourself out over too many fields causing rapid fatigue, hindered recovery and impaired casting. It could cost your life if you get too carried away or potentially weaken your abilities permanently... Oh! And we have to mention caster's flu, that's a nasty... nasty consequence there." She finished by sucking a breath through her teeth.

Ailith's mother had explained this to her when she discovered her daughter aged ten surrounded by spellbooks from all of the magic schools and practising novice level spells from each of them. Ailith's smirk widened into a grin as Mr Spellock shook his head and took a moment to compose himself. He was getting quite annoyed with her, but now it was the time to put the cherry on top. She stood up and stretched. Everyone blinked at her curiously.

My favourite chapter - Ohh. I don't know how to pick, there were so many fun chapters! I think I'll go for chapter 20 when Ailith gets a talking to from her beloved mentor for being her typically reckless self.

She jumped down and landed in the ash pile. It exploded upwards and Ailith coughed, flapping at the ash cloud.

“Ugh,” she groaned and gagged. It stank of burned troll hair, troll fat and general troll stench. She staggered away, brushing ash off her and followed the corridor into the first hall. Her boots echoed in the silent ruins as she retraced her steps. She soon spotted Master Bedail sitting on a broken pillar reading through the notes she had left with him earlier. He raised a hand warily as she approached.

He realised it was Ailith and smiled, “Hello my dear, how are you?”

“Good! I’m glad to see you here, I was worried.”

“Ah yes, I wasn’t able to get beyond this door. I suppose there was some rubble blocking it from the other side. I’ve been reading through your notes on the crystals… I believe they do have a purpose but I’m not sure what…”

“Oh! I know! I can show you, follow me!” Ailith grinned and turned to head back up to the entrance. She was so excited her walk quickly shifted into a jog.

“What did you find?” Master Bedail asked as he tried to keep up with Ailith who then sprinted towards the entrance.

“Look at these crystals, if we touch them we can see their original bindings!” She called out excitedly over her shoulder.

“How in the world did you discover that?”

“I touched it and felt the power! It was incredible! I read through an Ayleid lexicon before leaving so I picked up a few words, something about protecting the main chamber, intruders will die so on and so on.”

“And you wrapped your hand around this supposed weaponised light?!” His tone quickly lost its enthusiasm.

“Well, yes. It wasn’t activated by my presence, so I assumed it was safe, anyway, I undid the bindings on one and…”

“YOU WHAT?!” he spluttered.

Ailith froze. “I undid the bindings and used it to kill a troll…” she mumbled.

“For the love of Azura, girl!” He shook his head and Ailith felt an embarrassed flush travel up her cheeks. “Do you have any idea how dangerous it was?!”

Ailith opened her mouth to defend herself but Master Bedail continued, “That magic could have turned on you! It could have killed you or at the very least taken your arm! Do you want to lose part of yourself so easily?!”

“No, Master Bedail…” she bit her lip and blinked against the sting in her eyes. “I could feel the magic, it responded to me so I just… did it…”

He shook his head, “My dear, you must be so careful with your actions. These ruins are incredibly dangerous, their defences have endured for millennia. You may be skilled in magic, and I know you are a thorough researcher but…” he sighed heavily, “For your own safety, try not to be so impulsive with unfamiliar spells.”

Most challenging chapter - Like favourite chapter, I have so many to choose from. I think I shall settle for this snip from chapter 74, when Ailith is a guest at Blue River Prison (A Thalmor Prison mentioned in the Beyond Skyrim: Bruma mod which is one of my most favourit mods!!).

He released Ailith abruptly, pushing her back into the mud. Two guards came from behind her and wrapped her wrists in chains that were staked into the ground at different points, pinning Ailith there like a bear in a trap. She couldn’t move her arms and as she tried to steady her breathing, Rulindil crouched next to her. His beard tickled her neck as he whispered in her ear.

“You have permission to scream, Dartwing.”

Ailith looked behind him and watched some guards approach her with impeccably polished maces that shone menacingly in the rain. They came closer and closer as Rulindil stepped back. Ailith stared frantically between the crowd and the guards but there were no allies, only waves of faces wearing the same expressions of hunger and anger. She was so busy searching for someone who didn’t eye her with open hatred that she missed the swing of the first mace.

[pearwaldorf]

This is the same as the previous post. I locked it down to prevent incorrect information about the circumstances of Damar Hamlin''s injury from spreading. Please keep reblogging.

(content notes: traumatic injury, head injury, gross negligence by a powerful organization)

Hey everybody,

I wanna talk about something really important. You might not follow sports or American football so it might not come up in your social feeds.

There was a game tonight between the Buffalo Bills and the Cincinnati Bengals. Bills player Damar Hamlin suffered cardiac arrest on the field. was hit extremely badly, enough that They did CPR on him for nine minutes. As of writing this (1/2/23 at 20:05 Pacific) he is at the hospital and not breathing on his own.

[edit 1/3/22] The Bills issued a statement saying Hamlin suffered cardiac arrest after I wrote this post. The rest still stands.

Even before Hamlin had made it to the hospital(!!!) the NFL called for the players to warm up in five minutes. The coaches said "ABSOLUTELY NOT" and refused.

It took the NFL an hour to officially cancel the game. Equipment operators were packing up before it was officially called.

So you may have heard about former NFL players with "chronic traumatic encephalopathy", or CTE. That's a medical way of saying "you got bashed in the head a lot and it fucked up your brain". 99% of former NFL players who donated their brains for research had it.

Here are some of the symptoms of CTE:

The team found that—whether the men’s brain changes were mild or severe—all experienced mood, behavioral, or cognitive symptoms associated with CTE. These included impulsivity, depression, apathy, anxiety, explosive rages, episodic memory loss, and problems with attention and higher order thinking. Nearly all donors whose brains were diagnosed with CTE (96%) experienced progression of their symptoms during life. Men found to have milder brain pathology died younger, at a median age of 44, and suicide was their leading cause of death. The men with more severe pathology died at a median age of 71. Their leading cause of death was dementia or trouble with movements like swallowing.

I'm telling you all this because some of you might think professional sports is a niche subject that doesn't affect your life. Or you think that athletes, like actors or other people who make much more money than you, are protected from exploitation by the amount of their income.

The average career of an NFL player is 3.3 years. Average salary is $2.7 mm. You don't need to do the math to see that's not exactly big bucks. Until I read that last article I did not know that the NFL has a pension plan. Also it's really not great. Additional detail?

The new CBA also outlined… a plan to establish a program that guarantees former players without insurance receive mental health services, orthopedic care, preventative care and other health interventions at no cost to the player.

For emphasis, because this is really important: THE NFL DID NOT HAVE A PLAN TO PROVIDE CARE FOR UNINSURED PLAYERS UNTIL 20-GODDAMN-22. A plan!! It hasn't even been established!!

No amount of money will make up for fucking up your physical and mental health. It especially will not if you don't have a healthy way to deal with those fuck-ups.

It is now nauseatingly crystal clear the NFL is another facet of the system that allows police to kill (Black men) with impunity. You do not treat people you think of as human this way. And because all this stuff is connected, we have to be aware of the ways people try to get us not to care.

I regret that it took Hamlin's terrible injury for me to understand this. The NFL's response is the reason I absolutely must remember it.