#and has been in this field for more than 20 years. We will provide the most professional service for all SMS related service.

[ejointech]

[qqueenofhades]

I am FULLY ONBOARD the Harris/Waltz train, tho before this i was leaning towards Mark Kelly (AZ is a swing state! He's an ASTRONAUT!) If you want or have time, no pressure, but any thoughts on what makes Waltz a better pick?

I like Mark Kelly too, and since he's married to Gabby Giffords (having run for public office after she got shot and could no longer do so) he would have been an amazing pick in terms of supporting the first female POTUS. But he is a less charismatic public speaker than Walz (for whatever that's worth, but politics is a mess of Aesthetics and Vibes that matter as much and/or more than actual facts) and more moderate/conservative. He's been a great senator and picking him would defuse some of the BORDER IMMIGRATION BLAH BLAH!!! scaremongering that Republicans love to run on, but it would also leave open the possibility of losing a special election and other dangers with the Democratic senate that we really need to minimize. So Walz is a better choice for that alone, but also:

He really has serious progressive credentials as governor, even if he was a fairly mainstream Democrat (who flipped a rural red House district in Minnesota that Democrats have not been able to win again after he left) during his 12 years in the House. This is an INCOMPLETE LIST of what he was able to do in two years with a one-seat Democratic majority in Minnesota:

A Climate Action Plan that included:

Investing in energy infrastructure

100% carbon-free electricity by 2040 goal

Transition off of fossil fuels and onto clean energy resources

Building more electric vehicle charging stations

Providing funding to help workers acquire new skills through apprenticeship programs in clean energy fields

Direct state funding for transit

Money for rail

Tax credit for e-bikes

Permitting form to fast-track clean energy projects

And that was in addition to:

Codified abortion access in Minnesota

Guaranteed paid sick time and paid family and medical leave

Funded replacing ALL LEAD PIPES IN THE STATE

Free school breakfasts and lunches for all

Made public college free

Stronger labor protections

Drivers’ Licenses for All

Voting Rights Act to reverse recent court rulings that make voting harder, including restored voting rights to convicted felons

Banning medical debt from credit bureaus

The "Taylor Swift Bill" requiring all ticket "junk fees" be shown up front

Banning most "junk fees"

No book bans

Protection for tipped workers

Banned non-competes

Legalized recreational cannabis

Gun control, including increased penalties for straw purchases of firearms, expanded background checks and enacted red-flag laws, passing gun safety measures that the GOP has thwarted for years

Made MN a Trans Refuge State, and required health plans to cover “medically necessary gender-affirming care.”

Pay increase for Uber and Lyft drivers

Elimination of the so-called “gay panic defense”

A ban on “doxxing” election workers

A prohibition on “swatting” elected officials

In March, during the height of the Gaza/uncommitted primary protests against Biden, Walz said that young people should be listened to and they had a right to be speaking up and the situation in Gaza was horrible and intolerable, without directly slamming Biden or getting involved in the issue in a way to draw negative headlines. Regardless of what you think about any of it, that is a very deft way to handle it and pairs well with Kamala's better responsiveness on the Gaza issue overall. That was a big part of the reason why Gen Z/younger voters were very excited about Walz despite him being an "old" (actually the same age as Kamala but he has joked that teaching high school for 20 years will do that to a guy) white guy. If half the battle in politics is making the right pick to excite your core voters and reach out to new ones, then Harris nailed it. As I have said in earlier posts, there was just too much energy with young voters FINALLY checking in when Harris became the candidate, to risk introducing a big ideological split with Shapiro.

Aside from that: the most insufferable Smart White-Bro Political Pundits (TM) are big mad about Walz, many Never Trumper Republicans thought they were entitled to a "moderate" in exchange for oh-so-generously lending us their vote against Trump and not run the risk that we might end up with someone *gasp* progressive, and the regular MAGA Republicans are hysterical, which means they're terrified. It's also incredibly hard to paint Literal Midwestern Stereotype Dad (football coach, social studies high school teacher, military veteran, etc) as THE EVIL END OF AMERICA in the way they desperately want to do, though the fact that they're trying shows that they've got literally nothing. The fact that Kamala picked Walz against the PREVAILING WISDOM!!! that she had to take Shapiro (for whatever reason that might have been) is also a good sign, because by far the most genuine and extensive enthusiasm that I have seen from Democratic voters, especially those feeling burned out or disillusioned or angry with specific policy choices of the current administration, was for Walz. Having everyone excited for the pick beforehand, effectively using the "weird" line, and rallying behind the guy, only for her to actually go for him, is inspiring. It makes people feel like they're being heard and the Democrats have decided to win by being progressive, and not just endlessly Catering To The (Imaginary) Middle as they have always been told to do (and often done). That alone is MASSIVE.

Walz is tremendously funny, personable, has Democrats from AOC to Joe Manchin praising it (again, shocking), was right out the gate supporting Kamala, has already been majorly successful on TV, was by far the most progressive-on-policy picks of the VP finalists, is incredibly, hilariously wholesome and small-town Midwestern (he's the JD Vance that they wish JD Vance was), and is already sending ActBlue gangbusters with donations again. And when you're getting this kind of response on the Cursed Bird Hellsite, just:

Just. I don't know what's happening either. But let's enjoy it, and then work hard, because we gotta fucking do this and for possibly the first time this entire year, I really think we might. Heck yeah.

[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.

[reasonsforhope]

"On a blustery day in early March, the who’s who of methane research gathered at Vandenberg Space Force Base in Santa Barbara, California. Dozens of people crammed into a NASA mission control center. Others watched from cars pulled alongside roads just outside the sprawling facility. Many more followed a livestream. They came from across the country to witness the launch of an oven-sized satellite capable of detecting the potent planet-warming gas from space. 

The amount of methane, the primary component in natural gas, in the atmosphere has been rising steadily over the last few decades, reaching nearly three times as much as preindustrial times. About a third of methane emissions in the United States occur during the extraction of fossil fuels as the gas seeps from wellheads, pipelines, and other equipment. The rest come from agricultural operations, landfills, coal mining, and other sources. Some of these leaks are large enough to be seen from orbit. Others are miniscule, yet contribute to a growing problem.

Identifying and repairing them is a relatively straightforward climate solution. Methane has a warming potential about 80 times higher than carbon dioxide over a 20-year period, so reducing its levels in the atmosphere can help curb global temperature rise. And unlike other industries where the technology to decarbonize is still relatively new, oil and gas companies have long had the tools and know-how to fix these leaks.

MethaneSAT, the gas-detecting device launched in March, is the latest in a growing armada of satellites designed to detect methane. Led by the nonprofit Environmental Defense Fund, or EDF, and more than six years in the making, the satellite has the ability to circle the globe 15 times a day and monitor regions where 80 percent of the world’s oil and gas is produced. Along with other satellites in orbit, it is expected to dramatically change how regulators and watchdogs police the oil and gas industry...

A couple hours after the rocket blasted off, Wofsy, Hamburg, and his colleagues watched on a television at a hotel about two miles away as their creation was ejected into orbit. It was a jubilant moment for members of the team, many of whom had traveled to Vandenberg with their partners, parents, and children. “Everybody spontaneously broke into a cheer,” Wofsy said. “You [would’ve] thought that your team scored a touchdown during overtime.”

The data the satellite generates in the coming months will be publicly accessible — available for environmental advocates, oil and gas companies, and regulators alike. Each has an interest in the information MethaneSAT will beam home. Climate advocates hope to use it to push for more stringent regulations governing methane emissions and to hold negligent operators accountable. Fossil fuel companies, many of which do their own monitoring, could use the information to pinpoint and repair leaks, avoiding penalties and recouping a resource they can sell. Regulators could use the data to identify hotspots, develop targeted policies, and catch polluters. For the first time, the Environmental Protection Agency is taking steps to be able to use third-party data to enforce its air quality regulations, developing guidelines for using the intelligence satellites like MethaneSAT will provide. The satellite is so important to the agency’s efforts that EPA Administrator Michael Regan was in Santa Barbara for the launch as was a congressional lawmaker. Activists hailed the satellite as a much-needed tool to address climate change. 

“This is going to radically change the amount of empirically observed data that we have and vastly increase our understanding of the amount of methane emissions that are currently happening and what needs to be done to reduce them,” said Dakota Raynes, a research and policy manager at the environmental nonprofit Earthworks. “I’m hopeful that gaining that understanding is going to help continue to shift the narrative towards [the] phase down of fossil fuels.”

With the satellite safely orbiting 370 miles above the Earth’s surface, the mission enters a critical second phase. In the coming months, EDF researchers will calibrate equipment and ensure the satellite works as planned. By next year [2025], it is expected to transmit reams of information from around the world."

-via Grist, April 7, 2024

[artifacts-and-arthropods]

Brandt's Bat: researchers once documented a case in which a Brandt's bat had survived in the wild for more than 40 years, making this the longest-living bat species in the world

In 1964, a wild Brandt's bat (Myotis brandtii) was captured, banded, and released by researchers in the Biryusa region of Siberia. The very same bat was eventually recaptured by another team of researchers in 2005; it would have been at least 41 years old by then, making it the oldest bat ever recorded.

The previous record-holder was also a Siberian Brandt's bat (with an estimated age of 38 years).

There are twelve other species within the genus Myotis that have been documented living past the age of 20, but the lifespan of the Brandt's bat is exceptionally long, especially compared to other small mammals.

This species (and the longevity of a few other bat species) defies our conventional understanding of the relationship between an animal's size and its lifespan -- smaller animals normally have a much shorter lifespan compared to large animals, partly due to their higher metabolic demands, but these bats represent a rare exception to that rule. In fact, with an average weight of just 4 to 8 grams (which is roughly the combined weight of 2 or 3 pennies), the Brandt's bat has the longest lifespan of any mammal relative to its size.

Research suggests that its increased lifespan may be at least partially linked to a mutation in two of the genes that are related to growth. This article describes the results of one particular study:

Genes for two proteins involved in growth — called growth hormone receptor (GHR) and insulinlike growth factor 1 receptor (IGF1R) — showed changes that also appear among other long-lived bat species. Previous studies in mice and other animals suggest genetic changes in GHR and IGF1R are linked with longevity. For instance, mice with mutations in GHR live twice as long as normal mice, said study researcher Vadim Gladyshev, a geneticist at Brigham and Women's Hospital in Boston.

These same genetic changes also may be responsible for the bats' small size ...

"We think the bat's life span is, in part, an unintended consequence of its small body size."

There are a few other factors that may also play a role:

Brandt's bats also hibernate and roost in caves — behaviors that may help them avoid predators and extreme weather conditions, and contribute to their longer life span, the researchers said. The Brandt's bat also takes a relatively long time to reach maturity, and it does not produce many offspring — two characteristics seen in larger, longer-living mammals.

Note: nearly all of the articles that I came across refer to the 41-year-old bat as a "Brandt's bat," but at least one other source uses the term "Siberian whiskered myotis," instead. That term simply refers to the Siberian variety of the Brandt's bat (subspecies Myotis brandtii sibiricus) in particular.

Sources & More Info:

The Journals of Gerontology: A New Field Record for Bat Longevity

Bat Conservation International: Myotis brandtii

Nature: Genome Analysis Reveals Insights into Physiology and Longevity of the Brandt's Bat, Myotis brandtii

Nature: DNA Methylation Predicts Age and Provides Insight Into Exceptional Longevity of Bats

New Scientist: Gene Clues May Explain Why Brandt's Bat Lives So Long

[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.

[27moremoons]

Civil Defense in Gaza: IMPORTANT/LONG POST

"Civil Defense" after a year of continuous war against our people in Gaza

Praise be to Allah, Lord of the Worlds, and peace and blessings be upon the best of martyrs and messengers, our Prophet Muhammad, peace be upon him and all his family and companions...

We extend our greetings to the Palestinian people in Gaza for their patience and steadfastness throughout a full year of "israeli" war.

We salute the heroes of the Civil Defense who work tirelessly day and night, never wavering in their responsibilities and their national, religious, and moral duties toward their people. We also extend our appreciation to our humanitarian service partners across all fields.

After a year of continuous war on Gaza, we confirm that the Civil Defense is operating at full capacity, which amounts to only 20% of its original capabilities. This is due to the "israeli" occupation deliberately targeting Civil Defense facilities, vehicles, and personnel during their duties. This led to the complete or partial destruction of 52 vehicles of various types and the martyrdom of 85 personnel, with 292 others injured.

The "israeli" occupation has completely destroyed 11 firefighting and rescue vehicles, 2 rapid intervention rescue vehicles, 4 water tanker trucks, 8 ambulances, one hydraulic ladder vehicle, and 12 administrative vehicles. This confirms that the occupation forces are deliberately hindering humanitarian work and interventions aimed at saving lives and protecting property.

Additionally, 7 fire trucks have sustained damage that can be repaired if the necessary support and spare parts are provided. Also, 3 rescue vehicles, 3 ambulances, and one water tanker truck were damaged and can be restored to service if the occupation allows the entry of appropriate spare parts for repairs.

The continued disregard by the international community and humanitarian organizations has emboldened the "israeli" occupation to intensify its targeting of our resources and personnel. Our facilities and teams were directly targeted 6 times, and our teams were attacked while performing their duties on the scene 14 times.

Over 47% of our teams have been physically endangered, and all of them have suffered psychological harm due to losing family members or their homes.

Since the start of the war, our teams have carried out operations equivalent to 40 years of work based on response time and control, compared to their usual work before the war.

During the genocide, the Civil Defense received 90,000 emergency calls and responded to over 75,000 of them, resulting in more than 260,000 tasks, including rescues, evacuations, medical care, firefighting, and retrieving the bodies of martyrs.

However, our teams were unable to respond to over 15,600 emergency calls due to numerous obstacles and difficulties imposed by the "israeli" occupation.

Over the course of the year-long genocide, our teams, accompanied by medical teams, retrieved 37,210 martyrs from homes, streets, and targeted areas. The occupation has hindered the recovery of thousands of bodies still trapped under the rubble.

After a year of this devastating war, we affirm the following:

The continued international neglect in providing necessary support to the Civil Defense in Gaza will severely reduce our ability to respond to emergency calls from citizens. Our teams have been unable to respond to many of these calls due to fuel shortages and the lack of essential Civil Defense equipment. The occupation forces also deliberately block and hinder our access to areas they have invaded by closing streets and exits.

Civil Defense teams and humanitarian service providers in Gaza have faced immense challenges since the start of this war, and the evasion of responsibility by international institutions has exacerbated these challenges and difficulties.

We demand the provision of spare parts for Civil Defense equipment and vehicles, so we can repair damaged equipment and vehicles and allow our humanitarian intervention teams to continue their work.

We call for protection for Civil Defense personnel while carrying out their humanitarian duties and for the occupation to stop targeting our already worn-out vehicles and equipment.

We urge the world to pressure the occupation to allow the entry of urgent equipment for the Civil Defense of all types so that we can fulfill our duty amid the ongoing aggression and continuous bombardment across Gaza.

We demand the entry of heavy machinery to help clear the rubble of homes and structures to retrieve the bodies of over 10,000 martyrs still under the debris. These martyrs are not included in the official statistics of casualties from the aggression.

We demand the entry of the necessary quantities of fuel for Civil Defense vehicles, as we have often been unable to reach targeted areas due to fuel shortages, which has led to the martyrdom of hundreds of injured individuals who could not receive the necessary medical care.

General Directorate of Civil Defense

Gaza

Sunday, October 6, 2024

Below are the names of the 85 Civil Defense officers who have ascended to martyrdom in the last year as a result of the zionist aggression on the Gaza Strip:

Mohammed Musa Mohammed Hamad, Mohamed Abdel Hay Mohamed Morsi, Naeem Salama Ismail Al-Ghoul, Mohammed Abdel Hakim Khaled Shabir, Mohammed Nazmi Khamis Al-Ghalith, Fadl Sakib Hassan Ataya, Mohammed Suleiman Shahada Jabr, Shady Hassan Ibrahim Hamad, Ashraf Atta Saleh Juha, Jihad Ammar Khamis Abu Taqiyah, Ashraf Ahmed Mahmoud Abu Al-Maza, Maher Hassan Hamdan Abu Sawawin, Naji Ahmed Mohammed Al-Labban, Abdullah Farid Mohammed Abu Awda, Oday Abdul Jawad Mohammed Abu Ras, Saber Omar Dawood Abu Muslim, Ibrahim Atta Mohammed Hamdan, Mohammed Ayesh Sayed Hamdan, Mohammed Ahmed Musa Ali, Ahmed Mohammed Ahmed Noufal, Khaled Jamal Mohammed Al-Arabid, Osama Suleiman Salah Salah, Mahmoud Nahed Rashid Atallah, Muhammad Farid Hashem Dughmosh, Abdul Rahim Youssef Diab Abu Baid, Ayman Mohammed Mohammed Shawan, Abdullah Suwailem Abdullah Abu Rabie, Ahmed Mohammed Al-Abd Khas, Abdul Ghaffar Ayesh Hussein Asaad, Mazen Ismail Abd Rabbo Ashour, Iyad Abdul Karim Abdul Rahman Salem Deeb, Mohamed Fawzy Mohamed Qatit, Alaa Al-Abd Yousef Abu Ghanima, Adham Fathy Hassan Issa, Suleiman Ali Suleiman Yassin, Mohamed Sobhi Mousa Al-Jamasi, Nour El Din Mohamed Khamis Saqr, Bahjat Omar Musa Al-Jamal, Mohammed Majed Ahmed Ahmed, Abdul Razzaq Mahmoud Khaled Al-Mamluk, Hossam Eid Shaaban Abu Shaaban, Naji Jamal Saleh Al-Fayoumi, Mahmoud Abdel Karim Nimr Al-Sarhi, Hamed Mohammed Rashad Zeno, Mohammed Abdullah Mohammed Abu Al-Qura, Diaa Essam Abdel Rahim Abu Amouna, Mohamed Emad Hamdy Abdel-Ilah, Ahmed Zuhair Ahmed Hamouda, Ibrahim Shaaban Salem Obaid, Ahmed Saqr Hassan Abu Hin, Ahmed Mohammed Saleh Hamada, Mohammed Awad Ahmed Suleiman, Mahmoud Mohammed Ahmed Qanou, Karam Imad Hammad Abu Al-Araj, Abdullah Basem Mohammed Toman,. Mohamed Salah Mohamed Abdel Hadi, Mahmoud Basem Ibrahim Al-Muqaddamah, Mahmoud Mohammed Ahmed Salem, Abdul Karim Hassan Arafat Al-Ghazi, Hussein Diab Hussein Abu Jamous, Sohaib Adel Mohammed Abu Taqia, Ahmed Asaad Gabriel Faraj Allah, Osama Azmi Khalil Abu Daqqa, Abdul Latif Mohammed Ibrahim Salem, Youssef Mohammed Mahmoud Al-Mamluk, Ahmed Ismail Ahmed Abu Al-Qumsan, Bakr Raed Hussein Abu Harb, Ezz El-Din Abdel Sater Ramadan Al-Kurdi, Khaled Adeeb Abdullah Al-Hawrani, Ibrahim Imad Abdul Matar, Abdullah Mansour Eid Abdul Jawad, Hossam Hamdy Abdel Ghani Al-Maqid, Mohammed Hafez al-Assad Hassan Hamada, Mahmoud Ayman Mahmoud Ahmed, Badr Abdel Raouf Tawfiq Qasim, Musab Abdullah Saeed Al-Kurdi, Siraj Ayman Fathi Kaskin, Mahmoud Nidal Mahmoud Hammad, Mohammed Abdul Jawad Abdul Hadi Al-Shoubaki, Rami Abdel Qader Shafiq Mansour, Mahmoud Abdel Shafi Khamis Hussein, Bilal Ramadan Abd Rabbo Farhan, Hani Mohammed Ahmed Juma, Ziad Mohammed Salim Al-Habash, Ammar Rajih Ahmed Awad.

Glory to the heroes of the Civil Defense and their martyrs, to those who work tirelessly and sacrifice to relieve our people day and night through all available means.

[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

[ewanmitchellcrumbs]

Bro can I just thank you for putting together/managing the Big Bang? It’s been immaculate this year. Like yes the artists/writers are the ones providing the content (and believe you me I’m lurking in their inboxes and reblogs. I see yall too and love what you’re doing) but I remember when I used to write for a different fandom that sometimes the only thing that would get me out of my slump was a deadline for an event so thank you and your friends for spearheading this and all the people who see it and create content. I’m so well fed.

-Fuckass Bob

Thank you so much! I am so glad you’re enjoying @hotd-bigbang this year - I love that it broke containment and spread to non Tumblr fandom, so this year we have both writers and artists participating who I didn’t know previously!

I really thought that with how season two bombed, that the event would crash and burn, but even with people dropping out due to various reasons, we still have 20 entries, which is insane, and more than last year.

I cannot take all of the credit though; I could not have done this event without @emilykaldwen - I am really good at the behind the scenes admin and doing the stuff that makes the cogs turn, having Nat on board as co-admin to field queries and motivate participants has been a god send, so I can play my part of the ugly little goblin that pulls levers and doesn’t have to talk to people 😂

I really wanted to participate as a writer this year; but with how busy life is and me having to chip in as an artist, while running the event, I just haven’t had time. Maybe next year!

I’m so pleased you’re liking what you’re seeing so far - we still have plenty of great stuff to come!

[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.

[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

[religion-is-a-mental-illness]

By: Chris Nesi

Published: Oct 23, 2024

A prominent doctor and trans rights advocate admitted she deliberately withheld publication of a $10 million taxpayer-funded study on the effect of puberty blockers on American children — after finding no evidence that they improve patients’ mental health.

Dr. Johanna Olson-Kennedy told the New York Times that she believes the study would be “weaponized” by critics of transgender care for kids, and that the research could one day be used in court to argue “we shouldn’t use blockers.”

Critics — including one of Olson-Kennedy’s fellow researchers on the study — said the decision flies in the face of research standards and deprives the public of “really important” science in a field where Americans remain firmly divided.

For the National Institutes of Health-funded study, researchers chose 95 kids — who had an average age of 11 — and gave them puberty-blocking drugs starting in 2015. The treatments are meant to delay the onset of bodily changes like the development of breasts or the deepening of the voice.

After following up with the youths for two years, the treatments did not improve the state of their mental health, which Olson-Kennedy chalked up to the kids being “in really good shape” both when they started and concluded the two-year treatment.

However, the Times points out that her rosy assessment contradicts earlier data recorded by the researchers which found around one-quarter of study participants “were depressed or suicidal��� before receiving treatment.

The result also does not support the findings of a 2011 Dutch study, which is the primary scientific research cited by proponents of giving kids puberty blockers. That study of 70 kids found that children treated with puberty blockers reported better mental health and fewer behavioral and emotional problems.

Olson-Kennedy, the outlet points out, is one of the country’s leading advocates for providing gender-affirming care to adolescents, and regularly provides expert testimony in legal challenges to state bans on such procedures, which have taken root in more than 20 states.

When asked by the Times why the results have not been made public after nine years, she said, “I do not want our work to be weaponized,” adding, “It has to be exactly on point, clear and concise. And that takes time.”

She then flat-out admitted she was afraid the lack of mental health improvements borne out by the study could one day be used in court to argue “we shouldn’t use blockers.”

A Washington Post-KFF Trans in America survey found that 68% of US adults are against providing puberty blockers to trans-identifying youth ages 10 to 14, and 58% oppose hormone treatments for those ages 15 to 17.

Boston College clinical and research psychologist Amy Tishelman, who was one of the original researchers on the study, pointed out the obvious contradiction in withholding scientific evidence on the grounds that it doesn’t match an expected conclusion.

“I understand the fear about it being weaponized, but it’s really important to get the science out there,” she told the outlet.

“No change isn’t necessarily a negative finding — there could be a preventative aspect to it,” she said hopefully.

“We just don’t know without more investigation.”

Erica Anderson, a clinical psychologist and a transgender youth expert, told The Post she was “shocked” and “disturbed” about the decision to withhold publication of such vital research.

“We’re craving information about these medical treatments for gender-questioning youth. Dr. Olson-Kennedy has the largest grant that’s ever been awarded in the US on the subject and is sitting on data that would be helpful to know,” she said.

“It’s not her prerogative to decide based on the results that she will or won’t publish them.”

She also wasn’t buying Olson-Kennedy’s rationale for holding back the study’s findings based on fear of backlash.

“It’s contrary to the scientific method. You do research, and then you disclose what the results are,” she said. 

“You don’t change them, you don’t distort them, and you don’t reveal or not reveal them based on the reactions of others. You report as scientists what you’ve learned.”

In a 2020 progress report submitted to the NIH, Olson-Kennedy hypothesized that study participants would show “decreased symptoms of depression, anxiety, trauma symptoms, self-injury, and suicidality, and increased body esteem and quality of life over time.”

Olson-Kennedy appeared to attempt to muddy the waters in her interview with the Times when explaining how her hypothesis didn’t pan out, claiming participants had “good mental health on average.”

She made this assertion “several times” despite saying previously that 25% of the study’s young patients were suffering with various mental illness symptoms before treatments began.

When pressed by the outlet for an explanation for the seemingly contradictory findings, Olson-Kennedy attributed it to “data averages,” and said she was “still analyzing the full data set.”

In April, England’s National Health Service disallowed puberty blockers for children following a four-year review conducted by independent researcher Dr. Hilary Cass, who wrote in her report that “for most young people, a medical pathway will not be the best way to manage their gender-related distress.”

Last year, Dr. Riittakerttu Kaltiala, a leading Finnish expert on pediatric gender medicine, said in a newspaper interview that “four out of five” gender-questioning children will eventually grow out of it and accept their bodies even without medical intervention.

Olson-Kennedy did not respond to The Post’s request for comment.

==

"It doesn't matter that I accidentally proved my pseudoscientific snake-oil doesn't work, I still want to sell it."

[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!!!