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kemetic-dreams · 4 months

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House is a music genre characterized by a repetitive four-on-the-floor beat and a typical tempo of 120 beats per minute as a re-emergence of 1970's disco. It was created by DJs and music producers from Chicago's underground club culture and evolved slowly in the early/mid 1980s, and as DJs began altering disco songs to give them a more mechanical beat. By early 1988, House became mainstream and supplanted the typical 80s music beat

House was created and pioneered by DJs and producers in Chicago such as Frankie Knuckles, Ron Hardy, Jesse Saunders, Chip E., Joe Smooth, Steve "Silk" Hurley, Farley "Jackmaster" Funk, Marshall Jefferson, Phuture, and others. House music initially expanded internationally, to London, then to other American cities, such as New York City, and ultimately a worldwide phenomenon.

In its most typical form, the genre is characterized by repetitive 4/4rhythms including bass drums, off-beat hi-hats, snare drums, claps, and/or snaps at a tempo of between 120 and 130 beats per minute (bpm); synthesizerriffs; deep basslines; and often, but not necessarily, sung, spoken or sampled vocals. In house, the bass drum is usually sounded on beats one, two, three, and four, and the snare drum, claps, or other higher-pitched percussion on beats two and four. The drum beats in house music are almost always provided by an electronic drum machine, often a Roland TR-808, TR-909, or a TR-707. Claps, shakers, snare drum, or hi-hat sounds are used to add syncopation. One of the signature rhythm riffs, especially in early Chicago house, is built on the clave pattern. Congas and bongos may be added for an African sound, or metallic percussion for a Latin feel

One book from 2009 states the name "house music" originated from a Chicago club called the Warehouse that was open from 1977 to 1982. Clubbers to the Warehouse were primarily African, gay men, who came to dance to music played by the club's resident DJ, Frankie Knuckles, who fans refer to as the "godfather of house". Frankie began the trend of splicing together different records when he found that the records he had were not long enough to satisfy his audience of dancers. After the Warehouse closed in 1983, eventually the crowds went to Knuckles' new club, The Power House, later to be called The Power Plant, and the club was renamed, yet again, into Music Box with Ron Hardy as the resident DJ. The 1986 documentary, "House Music in Chicago", by filmmaker, Phil Ranstrom, captured opening night at The Power House, and stands as the only film or video to capture a young Frankie Knuckles in this early era, right after his departure from The Warehouse.

In the Channel 4 documentary Pump Up the Volume, Knuckles remarks that the first time he heard the term "house music" was upon seeing "we play house music" on a sign in the window of a bar on Chicago's South Side. One of the people in the car joked, "you know that's the kind of music you play down at the Warehouse!" In self-published statements, South-Side Chicago DJ Leonard "Remix" Rroy claimed he put such a sign in a tavern window because it was where he played music that one might find in one's home; in his case, it referred to his mother's soul and disco records, which he worked into his sets

#house music #african music #chicago #african #afrakan #kemetic dreams #brownskin #africans #brown skin #afrakans #african culture #frankie knuckles #Farley “Jackmaster” Funk #dance #evolution of african american music

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jacksonholtenthusiast · 1 year

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monster high fans!! especially monster high fans who like jackson and holt!!

so, it’s come to my attention that a lot of people don’t actually understand the canon reasons that the transformation takes place, and that’s okay, don’t worry! not everyone has a musical education, so i’ll just write you guys up a post so that you can understand the same way that us musicians do! <3

first of all, let’s recap the exact reason for the transformation, stated multiple times in canon material: music with a 4/4 time signature played in excess of 90 decibels.

let’s break this down!

starting with the 90 decibels, so we can leave the more complicated stuff for later:

90 decibels is the noise level at which you are advised to begin wearing protection. it is about the sound of a leaf blower or an average concert (the writers did a good job googling for this one!).

(HoH!J&H headacanoners, come get your food 😉)

however, since this is a requirement for the transformation, jackson can listen to any 4/4 music that is under 90 decibels! which is cool, but also contradicts webisode and movie material… i mean, come on, clawd’s phone is at most, an iphone 5, which only plays music at 81.5 dB (though modern iphones play up to 115 dB, so I guess that we can just call their technology ahead of their time? lol).

headphones can reach up to 100 dB, so i’m not surprised that j&h’s transformation is triggered using them.

anyway! most of the time, music is not played in excess of 90 dB. therefore, jackson can listen to anything he wants without jeopardizing his existence so long as he remains within a certain degree of sound. yay! jackson can still be an emo boy

secondly! a 4/4 time signature. now, what does this mean?

a lot of people get confused and figure that a time signature is referring to the BPM (beats per minute) of a song. while BPM is used in music, it is not used in this way. common BPMs for modern music are between 60 BPM (reggae) to 290 BPM (charleston dance music), though the average top range of BPM is around 160-180 BPM.

none of that matters to jackson! the BPM of a song has zero affect on whether or not they will transform, so again, jackson can listen to whatever music he wants to.

now, what is a time signature, then, if it isn’t the BPM.

well…

the time signature is the amount of beats by the kind of beats in each measure. so, for jackson, it would be four (numerator) quarter notes (denominator) per measure: a 4/4 time signature!

most songs are in 4/4 nowadays, because it’s just very common and easy to wrap your head around. however, there are some popular songs that are in other time signatures, for example:

- Nothing Else Matters - Metallica (3/4 Time Signature)

- When the Party’s Over - Billie Eilish (3/4)

- Idontwannabeyouanymore - Billie Eilish (3/4)

- I Love Rock ‘n’ Roll - Joan Jett and The Blackhearts (2/4)

- Baa Baa Blacksheep and The Wheels on the Bus ;) (kidding, but they are in 2/4)

So, i just guess that my point is that Jackson does not need to go completely without music. He has a lot of music that he can listen to in a lot of situations, as per the laws of canon.

I hope you enjoyed and that this was maybe a bit informative! Feel free to come scream about J&H with me at any time :)

#monster high #holt hyde #jackson jekyll #mh #jackson jekyll and holt hyde #monster monster high monster high monster monster high #monster high fans #monster high g1 #g1 mh #g1 monster high #generation 1 monster high #generation one monster high #monster high!

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warningsine · 8 months

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#Beats per Minute #120 bpm #bpm #Robin Campillo #Nahuel Pérez Biscayart #Arnaud Valois #cinema #sine's edits

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athletearrhythmia · 8 months

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My heart can fill a pool in under 6 minutes

Winding myself up today, I crunched some numbers to calculate my cardiac output on the run I'm trying to motivate myself to do. Same run I do almost every day (I'm sleepy haha).

My heart is outputting about 33 liters per minute. (I sit at 170 bpm with a max of 178, and my maximum cardiac output is ~40). It's filling a 2 liter of soda every 10 beats, or just over every 3 seconds. It fills a kiddie pool in about 6 minutes, so on my 20 minute run it fills 3 and a third pools.

And I do that nearly every day before I lift.

No wonder this is what my heart looks like next to a healthy person's. Fun side note, I just figured out a normal short axis stack is done in 10 slices, but mine is 12. As in, my heart was too long to image normally.

God I'm obsessed. Hope yall don't mind.

#me #cardiophile #cardiophilia #cardio #bodybuilding #male #male heartbeat #exercise #male heart #heart #cardiomegaly #athletes heart

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collisiondiscourse · 2 years

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perch is back!

#perch #bpm #beats per minute comic #fuck if i can remember ehat my tags were #codi's ocs #codi.png #tw knife #tw blood

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shawoluvs · 28 days

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I know that BPM stands for 'Big Planet Made' in this case but I cannot get my brain to recognise it as anything other than Beats Per Minute so all these new accounts for Taemin just have me here thinking this is some kind of medical phenomenon, like "what's her heart rate?" "oh man, this is bad, it's Taemin Beats Per Minute" and tbh I do feel validated considering the chokehold this man has on my heart

#shinee #taemin #lee taemin #[ pretty boy bias ]#[ ramblings ]#honestly beats per minute just makes sense

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that-ari-blogger · 4 months

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Build Up

This might be an odd take, but the finale of She-Ra and the Princesses Of Power's first season is a two-part episode.

I don't mean this as a technicality. To my knowledge, Light Hope wasn't originally named "The Battle Of Bright Moon Part 1". I mean that in terms of animation and storytelling, this episode feels like the first part of a finale.

Let me explain.

SPOILERS AHEAD

At the risk of sounding like a broken record, the animation for this episode feels like yet another step up from previously. But now, instead of the lighting and art itself being improved, it is the little things. The scene transitions, the expressions, everything feels so much smoother.

For example, the first meeting of Bow and Glimmer with Swiftwind has some fantastic emotions on display that aren't revolutionarily, but take a serious level of skill. That's what good craft is, the little perfections that so often fly completely under the radar.

In that same scene, the little comedy moment of Glimmer noticing her mother and glitching is so fluid. I'm not an expert on animation technique, but even I can notice how this makes previous episodes look choppy in comparison.

The effect that this has is rather interesting, because it creates momentum. The fact that everything flows together so well allows the episode to build up speed and anticipation without actually altering the pacing, mostly (I will come back to this).

For another example of how this works in another, more condensed way, take Jimmy Dean's Big Bad John. Have a look at these two verses:

Every morning at the mine, you could see him arrive He stood six foot six, and weighed 245 Kinda broad at the shoulder, narrow at the hip And everybody knew, you didn't give no lip to Big John. Through the smoke and the dust of this man-made hell walked a giant of a man that the miners knew well grabbed a saggin timber, gave out with a groan And like a giant oak tree, he just stood there alone, Big John

The BPM (Beats per minute) of these verses is exactly the same, and Dean doesn't sing faster to cram more words in. Instead, the technique on display is enjambment. In the first verse, each of the thoughts is disconnected as a description of the song's eponym is given from a place of relative safety. But later on, the danger becomes evident through the fact that this is one thought that carries through, gaining that momentum as it does until that moment of breath in the verses final two words. A moment of breath that John is giving those miners.

The point I am making is that flow is a part of pace just as much as actual timing of events, and a minour shift in animation to give the characters more of that sense of motion within scenes creates dynamism that really helps the buildup of tension of the episode.

The pacing is sped up, but only slightly, and it is through the scene composition. The mirroring of Adora and Catra here through the length of the shot is clever. What I mean by this is... complicated. There are several points in the episode where Adora and Catra get incredibly short and punchy scenes back-to-back-to-back, making the whole thing feel like a singular item.

This also helps the pacing, but instead of through events happening faster, it creates an illusion of speed through scenes themselves being shorter.

Essentially, Lianne Hughes and Josie Campbell, the director and lead writer of this episode, really show off just how good they are at their jobs in this episode. Once again, the expertise comes out not just in the set pieces, but in the subtlety.

Speaking of subtlety, Light Hope.

Light Hope is a robot, kind of. She's an illusion that you can walk into and is programmed with a set objective. Pedanticism aside, Light Hope is a robot.

The problem with that is that her way of speaking is... robotic. There is an extreme lack of emotion here, making her difficult to read. But there are a few minour details.

"Your... friend?"

Moria Gorrondona's voice acting here is stellar. Because Light Hope does emote, just only in tiny ways. She is a complex character trying to appear simple. And that cracks in this line.

At first, this seems like confusion. Light Hope is a robot, so this is probably a new concept to her. But there's also some concern in her voice, and why is that there?

I think Light Hope is a phenomenal character, but I don't like her as a person. Admittedly, this is in hindsight, as watching this episode on a first viewing, it is easy to miss these elements. But Light Hope is just as manipulative as Shadow Weaver.

Everyone you will ever meet is either running towards something, away from something, or both, be it a goal in life or a feeling of worthiness or a sense of guilt. And people will usually take the path of least resistance towards or away from that thing. Often, a person seeking to manipulate you will provide a path for you to run, but it will come at a price.

Light Hope, in this scene, messes with Adora's head. She fools around, annoying Adora and keeping her talking until she gives her something of use.

"I need to figure out how to heal her."

Adora gives everything to Light Hope with this line. Most obviously, she gives her current goal. But she also, through her vernacular, gives her fear. She needs to figure it out. Adora is running away from failure and loss, and Light Hope pounces on that fear with pinpoint precision.

"She's hurt because of me. I messed up. I got Glimmer and Bow captured and Entrapta... It's my fault, I have to fix it."

Again, Adora is putting her whole heart out there, and showing vulnerability. I want to stress that this doesn't make Adora weak at all. The ability to be vulnerable takes bravery, and it marks out both Light Hope and Shadow Weaver as lesser for using Adora's against her.

"You do not yet realise the power you have. You are distracted by your attachments. There was one before you who could not let go. Her name was Mara."

Light Hope has seen Adora's memories, she knows what Adora knows, and Adora has just told her about her fear of failure. So, what does Light Hope do? She shows Adora someone she believes to have failed and says, "this could be you."

She-Ra is a tragedy desperately trying to happen, or rather, its a story about subverting tragedy. Everything is set to self-combust as the character arcs drive themselves into the ground. Love prevents this, and so Light Hope seeks to counteract that love.

Let's talk about the reveals in this episode, because they also contribute to that feeling of this being the first part of the season finale. This episode gives an information dump about the first ones, and while a lot of it turns out to be untrue, it is answers, for the moment.

Most notably, the series is now a sci-fi story, instead of an epic fantasy story. I know those terms are loose and ill defined, but you get the idea. This episode sets up the Horde landing, the First Ones being also from space, and the empty dimension.

But there is one majour moment that makes this feel like part one of a finale. The downfall of Shadow Weaver.

This scene is really cool, as it's when Shadow Weaver fully unravels. She loses her authority when Hordak gives that to Catra, and she loses her access to her magic in the same moment. Shadow Weaver is a character who covets power so taking these two away is a gut punch, and despite Catra being a villain at this point in the story, this scene is cathartic as all hell.

It isn't a hot take to say that this is when Shadow Weaver is at her most abusive. She loses, and starts spitting insults, for no reason other than self-gratification. She needs to feel powerful and so she tries to get that feeling by belittling someone she percieves as weak. She has been doing this the whole series but now she is unhinged.

Once again with Shadow Weaver, the things she says are unnervingly realistic, I know for a fact that certain people watching this episode have heard some of her words before, aimed at them.

But the reason this is so cathartic is because Catra isn't scared. Scorpia is scared in this scene, and nothing has even fazed her in the entire season so far (she's been surprised, but she's never hidden behind anything). But Catra is winning, and completely above Shadow Weaver's nonsense.

Shadow Weaver's last mode of control was her hold over Catra, and it's the mode that the audience has seen the most of. So, watching that get so thoroughly shattered is satisfying.

It's important to me that when Catra deals the final blow, she is striking downwards. The power dynamic is reversed, and now Shadow Weaver has to look up to see her, showing Catra has moved beyond her, at least for now.

Also, as a tiny detail, this is the first time we have seen Scorpia go through several emotions. Fear is the obvious one, but also grim determination, and anger. The blink and you'll miss it expression as she carries Shadow Weaver away is fantastic. Here, Scorpia is pissed and its awesome.

Finally, Swift Wind is introduced in this episode, which is... complicated. I don't find him funny or endearing, and since he is so desperately trying to be both, I'm not really left with much for the rest of the series. In this episode, however, I actually like Swift WInd's introduction. I think being a riff on Dobby the House Elf (sue me Galbreath, I dare you) is actually used to better effect here. Instead of his rebelliousness being just a comedy thing, its also used to motivate Adora with a peptalk.

"What good is all your power if you don't use it to help the people that you love?"

Swift Wind gets flattened in the rest of the series, but I think here, as a kind of eccentric heart character would have been a really interesting take on him and might have made him more popular with the fans.

Final Thoughts

I haven't spoken about the stakes in this post, and that's because that's what I will go into next week. Suffice to say that they build steadily over the course of the episode to set up the finale.

Next week, I will be looking at the actual finale of the season. The Battle For Bright Moon, so stick around if that interests you.

Previous - Next

#rants #literary analysis #literature analysis #character analysis #what's so special about...?#she ra and the princesses of power #she ra catra #she ra spop #adora #spop #catra #she ra adora #she ra #she ra princess of power #she ra and the princess of power fanart

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sixhours · 2 months

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Chapter 9 - The Ghosts of Babylon

Series Chapter Index | Read on AO3 | Complete

Rating: Explicit, 18+, here be smut and violence Series tags: Joel Miller x You, Joel Miller x Reader, Joel & Ellie, mostly follows canon, LGBTQ+ characters, y/n is bi/pan, y/n is ~45, violence, pregnancy, abortion, medical trauma, emotional trauma, panic attacks, sex work, suicide, smut, slow burn, angst with a happy ending, hurt/comfort, romance, no use of y/n, reader has longish hair, Joel can lift you, smallish age gap (~11 years), I've probably forgotten some so please let me know <3

~*~

The New Year arrives in a swirl of bitter cold and snow. You’ve quietly accepted that you’ll be in Jackson until at least spring; FEDRA has stopped sending all but the most basic touchpoint communications, confirming you’re still alive. The roads between outposts are snowed in; you imagine FEDRA soldiers stationed in the middle of the barren, snow-coated landscape, like statues waiting to thaw.

You’re working at the front desk when Joel shows up in the infirmary, hands in his pockets, looking stoic and lost.

“Miller? Everything okay?”

He clears his throat. “Uh…you said something about an echo…thing.”

You blink up at him, bemused. “That was months ago.”

He scowls. “M’here now.”

You consider turning him away, but the clinic is surprisingly dead. You suspect most of the town is nursing some pretty powerful hangovers this morning.

And then, there’s the orange. The one you haven’t eaten, but is stored in your fridge. The one you take out just to sniff. And now Mr. “Don’t get your hopes up” is standing in front of you looking hopelessly awkward and almost…endearing.

You sigh. “Fine, let’s do it. I’ll get the ultrasound ready.”

He follows you to the back of the clinic as you pull out the ancient machine, plugging it in, waiting for the computer to boot up.

“You’re lucky I don’t have any other patients yet,” you say. “I heard the New Year’s party was a big one. Though I suppose without fireworks, there’s less chance of someone blowing off an arm.”

He grunts in agreement, sitting up on the table.

“Shirt off,” you say. “I can turn around or I can leave, it’s up to you.”

But he’s already unbuttoning his flannel, pulling his undershirt over his head.

“Any shortness of breath? Chest pains?”

He shakes his head.

“Cold,” you say, barely a half-second of warning as you squirt a dollop of lube directly onto his chest. He sucks in a sharp breath.

“Fuck, you weren’t kidding.”

You quirk your lips. “Sorry, bedside manner’s not really my thing.”

The machine’s monitor is fuzzy, forcing you to lean in and squint at the shadows as you move the wand over his chest, pressing in, tilting from side to side to see each of the ventricles, searching for dark spots. The ultrasound speakers scratch out a steady heartbeat.

“83 beats per minute, a bit fast,” you say. “But…contrary to popular belief…you have a heart, Miller.”

“Funny.”

You’ve been moving the wand over his chest for several minutes, watching the rhythmic contractions of muscle and trying to make sense of what you’re seeing given your very basic knowledge of cardiology, when you become aware that he’s watching you intently.

You meet his eyes and the BPM reading on the monitor starts to climb, a persistent throb echoing in the air. He clears his throat with some difficulty.

“So are you, uh…only interested in women?”

“That’s a personal question.”

He shrugs, and you tsk softly. “Don’t move, I’ll lose the picture.”

“Figured we were past the whole small talk thing by now.”

“Ellie’s right. You have no social skills,” you say, biting your lip, leaning in, as though closing the gap by a few inches would make up for the fact that the poor machine is dying.

“Guilty,” he says, but he smiles as he says it, that come-fuck-me glint in his eyes.

“No,” you sigh, sitting back. “I’m not only interested in women.”

“So…are you, uh…free tomorrow night?”

You blink. “Are you asking me on a date, Miller?”

He opens his mouth to deny it but then…doesn’t. You’ve been done with the echo for five minutes, but there’s a sordid pleasure in watching macho-man Joel Miller literally squirm under your hands, half naked and covered in goop, his nervousness pounding out over the thready speakers.

“Because it would be very…unprofessional…to date one of my patients.”

He narrows his eyes, lowering his voice until it’s almost a growl. “But fucking ‘em is fine?”

“Different profession, whole different code of ethics,” you say easily. You turn off the ultrasound and wipe the excess lube off his chest with a clean towel. “Let’s say I can be free. What did you have in mind?”

He shakes his head. “Not tellin’.”

“The man likes a mystery,” you say airily, turning around to shuck your gloves into the trash and wash your hands at the sink. You hear him shrugging on his shirt. His voice comes from over your shoulder, close enough to feel his breath on your neck.

“I’ll be there at nine. Wear somethin’ warm.”

~*~

He shows up at the door with a backpack and a bedroll, dressed like he’s ready for patrol. You’ve done the same, bundled up in flannel-lined jeans, thick wool socks, and the puffy down coat that makes you look like a marshmallow.

“So where are we going?” you ask, following him out into the biting air.

“S’a surprise,” he says.

You eye the travel pack with the bedroll slung over his good shoulder warily. “I don’t like surprises, Miller.”

His lips twitch in amusement but he doesn’t say anything. He takes a left off the main drag and you realize that you’re heading for the stables. He clicks on a flashlight to guide you across the field as you leave the warmly lit center of Jackson.

“Is this a good time to tell you I don’t know how to ride?” you ask.

“Don’t need to,” he says easily. “C’mon.”

He rounds a corner and heads to the back of the stables, where bales of straw lay stacked in a stair-like formation against the wall. Without waiting for you, he starts to climb them.

“I think this flies in the face of sound medical advice for a guy with a busted shoulder,” you call, watching him test the next step, and the next, until he’s standing on the gentle slope of the stable roof.

“My shoulder’s fine. You comin’ or not?”

“Fine,” you say, testing your weight on the first bale. “But I’m not on call. If you break something, I’m not going to fix you.”

“Deal,” he says, reaching out a roughened hand to pull you up.

You walk up the roof, avoiding patches of ice, until you can peer over the edge’s fifteen-foot drop. Joel kneels, unclasping the bedroll and taking a large thermos and two mugs out of his pack. He unfurls the heavy Army-issue sleeping bag and spreads it out, indicating for you to sit, then uncaps the thermos. It releases a thick cloud of fragrant steam.

“Coffee. Real coffee,” he says pointedly, filling and handing you one of the mugs. You take the first sip, and he’s right; it’s infinitely better than the stuff at the mess hall and leagues above your crystallized stash, but you’ll never admit it. You wrap your fingers around the heated ceramic. He reaches over to clink your mugs together in a toast before taking a drink.

“What the hell are we doing up here, Miller?”

He sets down his mug and then lays back on the blanket, pulling you down. Your coffee sloshes over the side of the cup. “Wait–”

“S’time for the show.”

He turns off the flashlight, and for a moment you’re blind, eyes adjusting to the total lack of light. The sensation is so completely disorienting that you feel like you’re falling, and you involuntarily clutch at Joel’s arm to steady yourself.

When your vision returns, you see nothing but stars in an endless arcing dome. The stable roof faces away from the town; no other lights are visible out here. In the sharp stillness of the cold air, you think you can see every pinprick of light in the sky.

“Whoa,” you sigh, your breath temporarily clouding the starry landscape in front of you. Joel’s arm flexes under your hand in quiet acknowledgment. You see a flickering light out of the corner of your eye. Then another, and another. Soon you’re watching dozens of meteors trail across the sky’s black curtain.

“Ellie found this space almanac,” Joel murmurs. “It has all these dates for stuff like this. Quadra…somethin’-or-other.”

“Quadrantids,” you say, pulling from a distant memory. Camping when you were 10, your father pointing out the constellations, your fingers sticky with chocolate and marshmallows as you wished on as many shooting stars as you could see.

You edge closer to Joel’s side, seeking out his warmth but unwilling to take your eyes off the show. You feel him moving around for a minute, hear the zip of his pack opening, and then he drapes another blanket over the both of you, something thick and soft. You pull it to your chin.

“Thanks,” you murmur, willing your teeth not to clack together. “God it’s…beautiful.”

Joel makes a soft sound of agreement.

Your eyes keep trying to watch for more meteors; they flicker in your peripheral vision, always just out of reach until the last second. Eventually, you stop trying, letting your eyes go unfocused so you can see as much of the spectacle before you as possible.

“I used to feel lonely, looking up like this,” you say after a while. “Maybe lonely isn’t the right word; insignificant, I guess. But now…I find it comforting. They’ve been here for billions of years, and they’ll be here long after we’re gone. The world fell apart…and it wasn’t even a blip on the universe’s radar. But we still have the stars.”

“And sheep ranches on the moon,” Joel whispers, and you finally let your eyes drift away from the sky, facing him.

“Sheep ranches?”

“It’s nothin’. Look, ‘nother one,” he says, pointing, and you follow his gaze to a cluster of descending meteors. Your breaths mingle in the crystallized air. You watch until you can’t feel your cheeks, until your arms and legs prickle and go numb.

The soft sounds of the stable rise up from beneath you; hooves on straw, huffing and shuffling. Suddenly there’s another sound.

Is that giggling?

Joel looks at you as if to confirm you’ve heard it, too. You nod, and he puts a finger to his lips. He rolls over and creeps to the edge of the roof, peering over the side. You follow after a beat, missing his solid warmth beside you.

In the dark you see the faint shadow of a couple–kids, from the sound of it–sneaking into the barn across from the stables.

“Idiots,” Joel says, but in the dim glow you can see he’s smirking. The sounds of little gasps, kissing, more giggles. You can see articles of clothing being removed and you shiver, wondering if you’ll be treating frostbite on some poor kid’s ass tomorrow.

“Should we say something?”

“Depends–is 15 too young to be a baby mama, doc?” And you know he’s thinking of Ellie, wondering who she’s sneaking off to the barn with when he’s not able to watch her.

You don’t tell him that’s unlikely to be a problem.

“Good point. Yeah, let’s break up the fun.”

“Hey!” Joel growls, standing. “You kids get outta there!”

There are muffled gasps, a frantic dash for clothes, a breathy, “ Shit! ”

“ Go !” the girl hisses, and you both watch, chuckling as they scramble away.

“Real ‘get off my lawn’ energy there, old man,” you say, elbowing him gently, tucking your hands under your arms to try to warm them.

He snorts, rubbing his own hands against the thighs of his jeans to brush them off. You meet his eyes in the faint light, holding his gaze for just a touch longer than necessary.

“Walk me home, Miller,” you say finally, tucking your arm under his. “I’m freezing.”

You pass the string lights in the square, the big tree, and the clinic. He’s quiet, almost shy, as you walk up the steps of your porch. You don’t know how to reconcile the man who fucked you up against the kitchen wall with the one standing before you.

As if reading your thoughts, he mumbles, “I haven’t, uh…done this in–”

“I’m pretty sure this is the part where you kiss me goodnight.”

He gives you the faintest smile before leaning in and dropping a chaste peck at the corner of your mouth. Your face has long since gone numb from the biting air, but you feel the warmth of his lips on your skin.

And then he’s backing away, down the steps, down the street, into the darkness…and you wonder what the hell you’ve gotten yourself into.

#fanfic #fic recs #the last of us hbo #joel miller #ellie williams #joel miller x you #joel miller x reader

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