#but some things are really easy to problem solve

[hellsite-proteins]

thanks for the shoutout!

i did go through and watch the video, and while i think it does a nice job going through how AF2 works in a way that’s easy to understand, i agree that if may exaggerate how flawless the program is

one big thing i take issue with is the idea that structural biology as a field is becoming irrelevant. while yes this can be really helpful and has made it way easier to make predictions without the need for an experimental structure, there are still plenty of labs doing structural experiments. even if the confidence of a structure is around 90%, small details like the angle of just a few side chains can significantly impact binding surfaces and influence drug design, for example. predictions are great, but don’t entirely replace experimental confirmation.

it’s also worth noting that the data set has some bias to it. many of the structures from the PDB that they used to train the model are from x ray crystallography, which only captures a static image of a protein and can’t really be used for intrinsically disordered regions. (it wasn’t mentioned, but there are also several structures determined by NMR and cryo-EM that have been deposited, and all these methods have their pros and cons)

i’m not trying to be negative, and this technology has massive implications for health and other research, but i also think its always worth being critical and acknowledging limitations. they said that the protein folding problem is solved, which i disagree with. one part of this problem is figuring out a protein structure given its sequence, which they have made massive progress towards, but the other part is looking at HOW it folds, especially in the context of a cellular environment, which is still largely unknown.

hi have you seen the very recent video by veritasium? i know you're most likely not the most qualified expert but i'd like to hear what you thought/ what interesting things you might add about it!

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=P_fHJIYENdI

(easy link)

awesome video that shows off one of the best uses for AI computation.

i don't have much to add, except that the video makes it kind of easy to walk away thinking AlphaFold is a perfect program, which is not true. its usefulness is very limited by its accuracy (90% still leaves a lot of room for error!) and the way it topologically builds the protein structure. it's also worth noting that protein structure is not always rigidly defined! many proteins in your body need to be disordered to function:

if you're looking for a more silly application for science though (which i assume most people following this blog are), @hellsite-proteins is a gimmick blog that runs posts through AlphaFold, the exact program talked about in this video. give them a look!

[wonbloom]

𝐑𝐨𝐦𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐔𝐧𝐭𝐨𝐥𝐝

- 𝐚𝐧 𝐄𝐧𝐡𝐲𝐩𝐞𝐧 𝐂𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧

in this series i bring you 7 stories about 7 members based on my favourite romance tropes!!

each fic will be posted weekly so stay tuned, alternatively, feel free to let me know if you'd like to be added to my taglist (comment or send me an ask!) so you can be first to know when i post a fic!

all links, warnings and post dates will be updated accordingly !!

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knight in shining armour (damsel in distress)

pairing: lee heeseung x fem!reader

summary: it was pretty tiring being the townspeople’s favourite damsel in distress, and you were running out of handkerchiefs to give as thanks to the brave men that make their way through your humble town. good job a particularly handsome knight was willing to accept another form of payback as a token of your affection.

warnings: 18+

posted: tbd

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all i really want (office romance)

pairing: park jongseong x fem!reader

summary: your boss was an ass, making you stay late every night when she leaves at 5 on the dot. it seemed your only company was gus the janitor until the fateful night when you bumped into jay from the floor below. maybe your long nights didn’t need to be so lonely.

warnings: 18+

posted: tbd

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long way to go (sports romance)

pairing: jake sim x fem!reader

summary: forgetting to sign up for extra credit courses was so insanely unlike you, but it happened. leaving you here; assistant manager of your college's star soccer team. enter jake sim. captain, star player, and resident pain in your ass. good thing he hates you too, so you think, anyway.

warnings: 18+

posted: tbd

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heart out (roommates to lovers)

pairing: park sunghoon x fem!reader

summary: when the apartment of your dreams comes with a slight hitch - the roommate from hell - there's only one way to solve the problem. a five step fool proof plan to exact revenge and drive him out. there's no way it could backfire.

warnings: 18+

posted: tbd

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sugar mouse (small town romance)

pairing: kim sunoo x fem!reader

summary: going to stay with your great aunt in the middle of nowhere didn't exactly sound like the most exhilarating use of your summer, but at least you could get some good time sunbathing in. and the cute boy who worked at your aunt's favourite bakery was easy enough on the eyes. hopefully he tastes just as sweet.

warnings: 18+

posted: tbd

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take me to your best friend's house (boy next door)

pairing: yang jungwon x fem!reader

summary: yang jungwon has been your best friend since you were 8 years old. now, 10 years down the line and you're still inseparable. as the end of senior year approaches, both you and jungwon have some decisions to make, regarding your future and the feelings that threaten to change your relationship forever.

warnings: 18+

posted: tbd

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she looks so perfect (opposites attract)

pairing: nishimura riki x fem!reader

summary: from an outsider's perspective, it would be hard to understand how a goody two shoes like you ended up with someone like riki, but it just worked. when you accidentally overhear something you weren't meant to, it sparks an idea, maybe the good girl should go bad after all.

warnings: 18+

posted: tbd

───── ⑅ ♡ ⑅ ─────

a/n: ahhh!! my first series on here!! i hope you’re excited ro read :))) this is my valentines gift to u all xoxo

let me know which fic ur most excited for! i’ll let you guys decide which order i post in :3

tysm for reading!!

- lux xoxo

[loverboysturn]

˖ . ݁𝜗𝜚. ݁₊ popular!matt and smart!reader have their first tutoring session !!

got carried away but i love these two sm :( so excited to share more of them!!! asks & requests are always open.

these two are from the same universe as popular!chris & cinderella!reader. you can find all writings here.

06.58am.

you had pulled into the parking lot of the lake, your tyres crunching against the gravel beneath you. the morning air was frozen cold, and the sun was just starting to rise, causing a golden-orange glow across the sky.

you were shocked to see matt’s car already parked, surprised he’d actually turned up before 7am. even more surprising, he’d taken your usual parking spot, the one you always claimed when you arrived. typical.

you’d swapped numbers and texted him last night, arranging with him to meet at the local riverside coffee shop. it was always quiet at this hour, and you liked the view of the water, always making sure to take a photo of the sunrise to post on your instagram story.

as you look over to the group of benches placed outside the coffee shop, your gaze lands on matt, he was wearing his letterman jacket, the one with your college’s logo stitched into the back and his surname in bold above it. he was sitting on the bench to the side, coincidentally, the one you always sat on.

you shut off the engine, and gather up all your things, hoping to get this first session with him over and done with.

when you reach him, he looks up from his phone, locking it and placing it face down before giving you one of his infamous smirks. “ah, thought for a moment you were gonna be late pretty girl,” he teases, “you’re cuttin’ it fine.”

you roll your eyes, ignoring the nickname, knowing it was probably something he said to every girl, although for some reason, it made your stomach flip, but you instantly and quite easily pushed that feeling aside.

“well, i’m surprised you’re even here.” you say, sitting yourself down on the opposite side of the bench, placing a maths textbook down between you both.

“i told you, i’m not gonna let you down.” he says, shifting slightly to make room for your stuff on the table, “so, let’s get to work. shall we?”

“what do you want to learn first?” you ask, placing your elbows on the table, leaning your chin in your hand. “what does the matt sturniolo want to learn everything about?”

he leans forward, eyes scanning the papers you had brought with you. “i dunno, maybe somethin’ easy.” he laughs, “or equations, i’m really shit at equations.”

you can’t help but let out a small giggle, shaking your head as you open the textbook, finding the section you needed on equations.

you begin explaining the first set of problems on the page, making sure to break them down, keeping it as simple and precise as possible and as much as you had expected him to not take this seriously, matt was surprisingly observant, writing down little notes here and there as you went over each step.

“any questions?” you ask him after a few minutes.

he hesitates, then goes on to ask you, “did you really think i wasn’t going to show up today?”

you raise an eyebrow, part of you did truly expect that he was going to bail, but part of you deep down, is glad he didn’t. “honestly? i did, a little.” you admit, “but i’m glad you’re here. you’re a lot smarter than you think.”

he smiles at your answer, before it slowly turns into a smirk. “any questions for me?” he asks you, mimicking your previous question to him.

“is it true that you hooked up with one of the cheerleaders who’s boyfriend is the captain of football team we’re playing on friday?” you mimic his smirk, throwing him completely off guard, playing him at his own game.

“correct.” he chuckles, admitting it. “alright, back to equations.”

for the next forty five minutes, you worked through all kinds of maths problems, and matt started to really catch on. he began to understand things easily, solving the harder math problems with more confidence as the minutes ticked by.

he stops for a moment, looking over at you, when suddenly he pushes his jacket off his shoulders and throws it over yours. “here,” he says quietly, “you’re shivering”

you glance up at him, unsure whether to be surprised or annoyed at him chucking his jacket on you. “it’s not that cold.”

“do you know how many girls would love to be in your position?” he jokes, “wearing the matt sturniolo’s jacket.”

you huff, admitting defeat as you slip the jacket on properly, the fabric swallowing you completely but the sudden warmth and scent of his cologne takes over you. “and i’m sure there’s probably been quite a few who have worn it, probably with nothing else on underneath.”

“you really think i’d let just anyone wear this? c’mon pretty girl, told you there’d be something in this for you.”

“there is something in it for me, you promised you’d make the football team stop being mean to my best friend.” you reply, narrowing your eyes, “you have to keep your side of the deal.”

“i will,” he says, holding his pinky out. “promise.”

a small smile tugs at your lips. a pinky promise seeming ridiculous, but something about it secretly makes your heart skip a beat. maybe it’s how seriously he’s taking all this. your loop your finger around his and give it a half hearted tug before pushing his hand away lightly.

“i’m holding you to that pinky promise.” you reply, before adding. “i take pinky promises seriously.”

you stand up, starting to pack your things up when matt stands too, offering a helping hand when his hand brushes against yours and for a split second, it feels… electric. you pull back quickly, mentally scolding yourself, you mustn’t let yourself get distracted by his charm.

you have always told yourself that falling in love with anyone would only bring a distraction to your studies, and you’re far too focused on your goals to let anything nor anyone throw you off track. this is just tutoring, nothing more, and you’re not about to let a boy like matt complicate things by calling you nicknames, and giving you that same smooth talk you know he uses on every girl.

you glance down at his jacket still draped over your shoulders, and you quickly shrug it off. holding it out to him, “here,” you half smile, “thanks, i’ll be sure to remember mine next time.”

he takes the jacket back without a word, before he starts walking backwards to his car, still facing you with that infamous smirk smacked on his face again, “same time, next week?”

“yep, same time next week.”

“here again? before classes start?”

“yes matt, here again. 7am.” you say, tone steady.

“i’ll be there pretty girl, 6.59.” he laughs, chucking his keys into the air before catching them.

you watch him finally turn away and get into his car, driving off. as his car disappears, you get into yours and rest your head on the steering wheel, a heavy sigh escaping your lips.

and little do you know, this tutoring thing is only the start of something you never saw coming.

[wisteria-lodge]

why is Dramione so popular and do you think it's problematic?

I. PROBLEMATIC SHIPS

(scroll down if you just want to read about Dramione)

First thing is, I don't think any ships are problematic.

There are lots of ships I don't *like.* There are ships that squick me, or mischaracterize one of the characters in a way that annoys me, or that I think are boring. But saying something is "problematic" implies that I have an issue with it's existence, and don't think that anyone should ship it ever. And that's just not ever going to be the case for me.

Like okay. I have a really strong dislike of any relationship where Character A is "saving" or "fixing" Character B. (In my head I call them Life Coach ships.) I think that's an unhealthy dynamic that breeds resentment and also doesn't work. You can support people, but in the end they gotta fix themselves. BUT. I'm ALSO aware that fixing/saving the bad boy is power fantasy, and power fantasies are fun, and cathartic, and important. Maybe it's nice to read about Lucius Malfoy or whoever responding to that sort of attention the way you wish your father or partner responded in real life. People are messy, and complicated.

To take an extreme example, I know that some people who've been raped stay away even from sex pollen and fake dating, and others actively seek out non-con, even romanticized non-con, as a way to process and deal. Basically, I think people tend to seek out media that is good for them (or at least comforting) and backspace out of media that actively hurts them. You probably have a second of disgust where you're like, ugh that's a thing? But you're not going to read a whole Snape/Hermione fic if the premise upsets you.

I bring up Snape/Hermione because teacher/student is a huge squick of mine. Doesn't matter if they're both adults, or if it's more of an apprentice thing. It's a scenario and a power dynamic that I do not like. BUT. I understand the appeal. The premise of a lot of Snamione fics is... okay, here's this powerful, intelligent, well-dressed guy who is extremely buttoned up and repressed, who doesn't give anyone the time of day. But there's something about YOU (not your prettier friends/classmates) that gets under his skin, and now he's obsessed, wrapped around your little finger. Oh and he's damaged, so he *needs* you. That's a power fantasy. And like, irl you're generally pretty powerless as a 17 year old girl, especially when interacting with men in positions of authority.

Also, like, historically? A lot of fantasies have operated under the heading of "I know it's wrong, but I still can't resist." The fact that something is wrong, is a societal taboo, well - that's a very easy, safe way to get an adrenaline rush, and up the intensity of the fantasy situation. Even the stuff people always bring up when they talk about problematic ships - underage, incest, slavery au but it's framed like it's hot, idk. They're forbidden societal taboos for really good reasons, but I don't think it's crazy to be interested in the big red button that says DO NOT PUSH.

Like how about this. In my experience, actors who play villains tend to be the sweetest, loveliest people you've ever met in your life. And I've always wondered if it's because they kind of have to unpack all the dark, sticky, destructive, perverse parts of themselves on a fairly regular basis (and then have a good outlet for those same feelings.) Everyone has parts of themselves that are not "nice" and not "proper." I think fiction is a fantastic place to air those out.

II. DRAMIONE

I am absolutely not surprised that Dramione is so popular. First, Hermione gets shipped with everyone - for a long time she was the character everyone projected on, and while that's less the case now... she's still the most important female character, and she's a *good* character. She's intense, and goes a little extreme with the problem solving. She's good at observing people but not great with people. She misses social cues. She's compensating like crazy. That's good (relatable!) stuff.

And Draco? He slots into the worldbuilding in an interesting way, he's got a *great* backstory, he's arch and a little bit of a shit, but he's also sensitive and squeamish about violence. I also think he taps into that "oh shit I was WRONG" feeling that is such an important part of adulthood. Hermione is also just going to be the walking embodiment of that feeling for Draco, so he's going to feel some kind of interesting way about her.

I think Draco is fun to ship with any of the Golden Trio, because they've all got that martyr streak and Draco is a survivor, so they clash in interesting ways and end up balancing each other out. Draco and Hermione especially are both very politically orientated people, so they're a good ship for exploring worldbuilding, wizard world reform, or pureblood politics. I also think Hermione has a feminine, girly side that she feels a little guilty about exploring - and spending five minutes around aesthetic, fashion-conscious Draco is going to give her permission to do that. They both have a streak of practical ruthlessness that I think they would respect in each other. Draco can be... a little lazy, so passionate driven people are good for him. But then I think he would be a nice control for Hermione's workaholic tendencies. Ultimately I think they're actually very compatible.

(also like. Hermione likes quidditch players. and if her crush on Lockhart is anything to go by... she also likes pretty blonde men who dress all snappy.)

[positively-knotted]

Fuck it, full list + review:

First year

Linear Algebra: easy, boring.

Group theory: marginally harder, significantly more interesting.

Real analysis: one of the hardest, but only because you do it right at the start. Really one you only appreciate once it's over.

Probability: I really enjoyed this actually - not too hard if you're ok at analysis.

Statistics: it's like they took probability and took out the interesting parts.

Intro calculus: mostly very very boring, but some neat problems I guess. Also badly named, this means intro to differential equations.

Multivariable calculus: honestly one of the easiest courses I've taken. Slightly more interesting than intro.

Fourier analysis: terrible course, only taught for applied people. Everyone else should be allowed to wait until they've done functional analysis.

Geometry: mostly linear algebra tbh, with some random calculus problems thrown in. Fine, but felt very thrown together.

Dynamics. This was the hardest course I ever took. Wtf was happening. How did I get a first in this. I had no idea what I was meant to do at any point.

Algorithms: can you learn an algorithm and apply it by hand? Then you can pass this course!

Second year:

More linear algebra: Spectral theorem is useful, otherwise by far the easiest second year course.

Ring theory: vital for any pure mathematician. The course was very hard, but mostly because the lecturer was the kind of person to define a subring as "an injective morphism" to second years. Modules are cool tho.

Complex analysis: also very very hard, but mostly because it was badly taught. I see why people like it; I didn't.

Measure theory: the end of real analysis! Nice to finally define an integral, and definitely nicer arguments than other analysis courses. Overall fun if tricky.

Metric spaces: sick. It was taught by Ben Green. Need I say more?

Topology: I am doing a PhD in topology, so very biased. You spend a lot of time doing fairly boring analysis-y stuff, but the payoff is great.

More differential equations: this was fantastically taught and actually very fun, although partly because I was good at it. That said, actually solving the damn things wasn't always that fun compared to the theory.

More probability: Markov chains are cool and also just easier than everyone thinks they're going to be? Ended up being my best second year exam somehow lol, but fairly mid-tier for interest.

More statistics: I only took this because I felt I should know Bayesian stats. I have forgotten Bayesian stats.

Quantum theory: did you know that everything is a Hilbert space? And do you know your trig identities? If yes, you might like this course! More seriously, this is just "intro to Lie algebra representation theory" but they don't tell you that.

Short courses (more group theory, number theory, projective geometry, multivariable analysis): these courses were badly designed so no comment

Third year

Representation theory: sick. Do this. It's just algebra but done better.

Commutative algebra: ill. is how I felt. Don't do this. Well do it's very important in pure maths but make sure you find a good teacher. You probably should do it though I guess.

Galois theory: everyone interested in pure maths should do this, but personally I hated it. I do not care sufficiently about polynomials.

Algebraic number theory: if you care about numbers, this is cool. I found it fairly easy/boring since it wasn't aimed at people who'd done as much algebra as I had, but was nice to see.

Surfaces: a weird sort of intro to classical differential geometry, focusing on smooth surfaces and Riemann surfaces. It was nice and very easy, but the course was very weirdly designed imo. Other unis also seem to have similar courses though, which confuses me, since I feel it makes more sense to just teach general manifolds then Riemannian geometry, and use surfaces as simple examples throughout.

Algebraic curves: massive overlap with surfaces since both needed Riemann surfaces but neither was a prereq for the other. Then also covered all of projective geom, and rushed through the interesting stuff. Having now relearnt it though, it's super cool and I would recommend to everyone pure or not.

Baby AlgTop: basically Ch0+1 of Hatcher, dealing with cell complexes and the fundamental group. Everyone should know what the fundamental group is, but tbh I don't think everyone needs to sit through a course that proves the simplicial approximation theorem.

Functional Analysis: quite easy if you have finally internalised the lessons that undergrad analysis was trying to teach you, very hard if not. Basically did everything you've already seen more generally, imo should be compulsory.

More Functional Analysis: this time it's topology! Seriously though. Do it if you like topology, otherwise just trust people.

More quantum theory: this time it was "intro to Lie group representation theory". Then it became perturbation theory and I stopped going.

Master's year:

All of these reviews will be useless because the masters I did was weird.

Homological algebra: why was this taught before category theory??? Useful tool, but a hard course. Especially before category theory.

Category theory: should be compulsory for pure mathematicians. Also should be an undergrad course, since all my other masters courses assumed you knew basic category theory. (And so did some 3rd year algebra courses).

Algebraic geometry: I dropped it after 3 lectures bc the lecturer was bad. But if you have a good lecturer, maybe it might not be? Im unconvinced.

Proper Algebraic topology: the classic course covering Ch2+3 of Hatcher. If you like pictures and sign errors you should do it. If not, you probably still should.

Manifolds: this could also be an undergrad course tbh. Do you love vector bundles? You should love vector bundles. I love vector bundles. De Rham cohomology is underwhelming though, sorry @lipshits-continuous.

Lie groups: I think there is no good way to teach Lie groups to geometers. At least to me. I have absolutely no idea how I got 70% in this exam I did not deserve it.

Riemannian geometry: my best exam ever I think, somehow. It's kinda just analysis, except for geometers so there's much more handwaving and fewer δs. It's pretty boring at points, but the interplay between topology and curvature is fascinating imo.

Low-dimensional topology: this is now my PhD, but also the course was atrocious. Do with that what you will.

Uhh that was a good use of time while I waited for my rice to cook

Math enthusiasts of tumblr. What math subjects have you studied and which ones were your favorite? Which ones were your least favorite? Which ones were the hardest?

[hungermakesmonsters]

✨️✨️Congratulations on 500 followers✨️✨️ you deserve all the love for creating and writing such beautiful stories and i'm so happy for you 💖💖

Could i ask for a mini scenario where billy and (y/n) having a relationship like sandra bullock and hugh grant in the movie "two weeks notice". So it's basically boss - secretary relationship, but with a dash of romance and i think the movie was so cute abt how well those two work together

I have 2 scene in mind if you allow me to show you: the closet arguing scene and the restaurant scene. The restaurant being my favorite bc they just keep taking and giving food to each other bc maybe one can't eat them, or dislike them and the others just accept it and even taking it without being asked. And that happened so flawlessly fluid motion. I mean the were discussing business yet still taking care of each other's food 😭. And the closet argue are just cute. They were fighting but.. i'm gonna put those two in links and if you don't mind, do see them. Bc they have this cute chemistry in that movie

The closet argument: https://vt.tiktok.com/ZS6sFQPu4/

The restaurant:

https://vt.tiktok.com/ZS6sF4osY/

They were talking abt business, i can't find the audio for it, but this is the scene. They just take care of each other's food like a second nature. Mind you these two have not start a relationship other than working together as boss-secretary and i just 🫠🫠🫠

Okay, so I have not seen that movie in a REALLY long time (I think probably around the time it came out??) but I tried to really capture the underlying will-they-won't-they vibe. For some reason I always headcanon Billy as being really food driven and being particular about his food, so for him to allow anyone to touch his food is a really big deal for him. Anyway, I hope this lives up to your idea!!

His Smile

Pairing : Billy Russo x Reader

Story Rating : PG 

Warnings : None, just cuteness  

There was something automatic about the way you were together, probably due to all the time you spent with him. You could anticipate Billy, you knew what he wanted without him having to tell you. Half the time you even found yourself finishing his sentences.

That was just how things were between you. It was simple. Easy. Comfortable.

Of course, there were the jokes that you were like an old married couple from Frank and Karen, but Billy — well, Billy was Billy, and you were just his secretary.

Any feelings you harboured were one-sided, but it was fine. You were fine just being around him, being his secretary and his friend. You were one of the few people he trusted, that he confided in, and that wasn't something to turn your nose up at.

Women would come and go, but you were a permanent fixture in Billy Russo's life.

"I'm starving," he grumbled, eyes fixed on his phone.

You barely looked up from the file you were reading. "It'll be here soon, we only ordered five minutes ago."

He gave a hum and shifted in his seat. If it hadn't been for you, the both of you would still be at Anvil trying to solve the problem you'd found yourselves stuck in. But, fortunately, you'd managed to convince him to relocate to the little burger place just down the block from the office, knowing how cranky he tended to get on an empty stomach.

It wasn't unusual for you to work late, to lose whole evenings at his side working through whatever problems might have presented themselves. And, it was fine. In fact, you love these evenings you got to spend with him.

The moment your food was placed down, you found yourself lifting the bun on your burger to remove the pickles, lettuce and tomato. Without thinking, you placed them on Billy's plate and knocked the bun from his burger to take his red onions.

"I can't see a way around it," you said, "I think you're going to have to take on additional operators if you're wanting to keep up with the work load."

"I know," he answered, "but the budget..."

He didn't have to finish the comment for you to know exactly what he was trying to say. Profitability was on a knife's edge and adding more paid operators would mean more contracts but, for the time being, a much smaller return.

"The only other option is to lose the other contracts," you shrugged. "Or risk leaving current missions understaffed."

Billy barely looked up from the spreadsheet on his phone as he reached for the sauce, squeezing a healthy dollop of mayo on your fries before coating his own in ketchup.

You both started to eat, his fork finding its way to your plate to scoop up some coleslaw, knowing how much you hated it. You couldn't help but smile at that, glad that it was gone.

"The other option is temps," you said before taking a bite from you burger, your eyes still fixed on your paperwork. "Loan some guys from another company."

"That'll cost more."

As he spoke, you reached across the table to relieve him of one of his onion rings, knowing he had no intention of eating them. You weren't sure when or how you'd realised that Billy didn't care for onions, just like you weren't sure when he found out that you hated coleslaw. You just knew.

You knew him.

You knew each other.

You spared him a glance, only to find that he was already looking at you, a soft smile on his lips that had your cheeks instantly starting to warm. Then his eyes quickly dropped, seeming almost embarrassed that you'd caught him looking.

"You could outsource? Let a small firm take the contract for a percentage of the fee?" You offered.

Billy hummed as he chewed on his burger, and you decided not to say any more. He needed to eat — you already knew that he'd skipped lunch, and the thought of him going hungry just made you feel uncomfortable.

While you ate, you both continued to read through your respective work. You reached for another onion ring from his plate, while he started to help himself to your fries once his own were gone.

Dessert was a similar affair.

Billy took the cherry from the top of your pie, while you exchanged his scoop of chocolate ice cream for your scoop of vanilla, leaving him with two scoops of vanilla. Again, you weren't sure when you'd found out that Billy didn't care for chocolate ice cream, but it was one of the things about him that always had you rolling your eyes.

Still, once you'd both finally finished eating, he looked a lot better — still tired, as if he needed a proper night of sleep, but he didn't look unfocused and hungry anymore.

You looked up and caught him smiling at you again only, this time, he didn't look away. In fact, he reached for you, his thumb brushing over your lower lip before he seemed to realise what he was doing and pulled back.

"You had, uh — there was ice cream," he said by way of explanation.

"Oh," was all you managed to say in response, cheeks starting to burn despite the two scoops of ice cream you'd just eaten.

"I'm going to head back to the office, see if I can get this sorted," Billy said, shrugging his coat back on.

You knew he was offering you a way out — it was late and you knew he wouldn't blame you if you wanted to call it a night and go home — but you shook your head. There was nowhere else you'd rather be than by his side.

Pulling your own coat on, you just smiled at him, "we'll see if we can get this sorted."

Billy's lips pulled into a smile again, that strange little smile that had butterflies swarming in your stomach and made you wonder if your little crush was really as one-sided as you thought.

One day, you told yourself, one day you were going to kiss him on those lips and potentially ruin everything.

One day, you were going to find out what that smile really meant.

But not tonight, not now.

[not-poignant]

On a very rare occasion, a patron leaves Patreon because they 'thought chapters would be there earlier than they'd be released' and currently there are like... ten chapters there not currently released all under the early access tag and even if they hadn't found them by scrolling, they...could have just messaged me...and I could have linked them to every one.

Like, some things are really solvable folks! I would love to help match you up with the early access chapters for Underline the Blue, Underline the Red, Underline the Gold, and The Nascent Diplomat, (and Constellations if you happen to be in that tier too). You can DM me, you can email me, you can leave a comment, you can scroll three posts down, you can look at a Round-Up post and see all the links to the Patreon content released that month, you can scroll the tag, I try and give people like... 5+ ways to find what they need to find.

Thankfully this happens like once or twice a year at most, but I post links to the early access chapters even here, for people who can't be bothered going to Patreon and scrolling. I update those links every chapter update for a fair bit of my original writing.

It would make my day to solve problems like this if folks would just talk to me, because I love coming up with literally 8 ways of getting folks to what they need to get to, lol. So a person being like 'thought there'd be early chapters' missing the fact that there's more early chapters on Patreon right now than literally ever before, is like...

You really just can't make everyone happy, but give me a chance, because if it was just a navigation thing, I love helping people connect with the thing they want to connect to :D

[istherewifiinhell]

[Laying dead on the floor] i would say i have a task complexity impairment which is that i can do things but if you put too many steps i will just give up no matter what. But i would like to say i used. MULTIPLE problem solving skills. And talked to two whole ppl. With general inquires and sounded so so normal and natural and casual yeah okay no worries. Its just the system that has fucked me.

[always-a-slut-4-ghouls]

Getting off my ass and downloading my favorite fics to put on a jump drive I bought with a fuck tonne more storage than the two I already had from when I was in school and, wow, this is actually so much easier than the rest of the stuff I’ve been downloading for various reasons (articles on stuff I want to have around but worry might be impacted by this new presidency). You just pick pdf (or whatever you like) and bam! It’s right there in your downloads ready to be stashed away, no annoying nitpicking where I have to delete stuff I don’t need in the document or huge blank spaces, it’s just ready! Like, listen. I love “print friendly and pdf” Firefox extension, but I always have to end up deleting some stuff that is just taking up space. It does its job! It’s just not going to be neat and tidy when the website doesn’t intend for you to do this. Archive of our own does that whole thing of making a pdf themselves! This is going to go so much faster than the other stuff I’ve been downloading as pdfs

Anyway, I love you as well Smithsonian magazine website for not only being free, but also just having that extension on all your articles! That’s actually how I found it in the first place. Before that I was copy pasting every paragraph into a pages document and it was way more tedious.

[exopelagic]

my players don’t know it yet but the adventure we’re doing rn is me being silly goofy bc they hadn’t made their characters in time for me to plan around them. now that I Know Things the game can really start

[dravidious]

You're more amazing than a full minute

Werewolves need help but everyone else trying to help them is STUPID and WRONG so I did it better. You're welcome

Also an artifact that I just had the idea for and kinda sorta supports werewolves if you squint so I gave it Innistrad flavor and threw it in the batch. So there, unique support cards that aid werewolves in their transforming endevors without defaulting to the laziest possible-

"Why not just give werewolves flash?"

FUCKING FINE

You want flash so bad you can spend 3 mana on it

[pencil-n-pen]

TONGUES AND TEETH

₊˚ʚ 🌲₊˚✧ ﾟ. °🍂 ೃ࿔*

jackson! joel miller x fem! loner! reader

masterlist | ko-fi

summary: Joel refuses to acknowledge the part of him that aches to be a protector. That is, until you come crashing into his life.

cw: canon-typical violence, reader had a rough go of things before Joel, nightmares, medical inaccuracies (oh the horror!) uhhh reader has a broken nose and it gets set, unspecified age gap, daddy issues but we all saw that coming and it’s vague, as an ellie lover and defender until the day i die, it pains me to say no ellie-au IM SORRY I COULDN’T MAKE IT WORK bella ramsey as ellie they could never make me hate you

tags/tropes: hurt/comfort as always, age gap, nightmare comfort, honestly just two messed up people loving each other

a/n: proof that i will find a way to write an eldest daughter fic for any fandom/universe

not officially writing for him !! just had this idea

another long(ish) fic. if you're here from my masterlist, now would be a good time to go pee, get some water, and maybe a snack or two :) same things for those of you scrolling. i see u

title taken from tongues and teeth by the crane wives (GO LISTEN TO THE CRANE WIVES !!)

✧˚ ༘ ⋆｡˚🦴⋆｡°✩

Jackson living isn’t all Joel thought it would be cracked up to be.

Don’t get him wrong- objectively, it’s great. Running water, electricity, a clinic- three hallmarks Joel was sure he’d never see again. Not since the outbreak.

So by all means, he should be content. He goes out for hunting parties and patrols. Has his own house. Has a permanent place to keep his boots and his knives and guns and a bookshelf to make his way through. He has a bed. He has his brother.

But he’s restless.

Joel spent a long time walking. Searching. Surviving. You don’t quite slip back into easy civilian life just like that, no matter how perfect the conditions are.

At first, he solves this problem but going on more hunting parties, more patrols. He stays up late doing guard rotations and helps out his brother with projects when he can.

It doesn’t solve the itch, though. That sharp little thrumming, just beneath his skin: the need to protect. To have a job. To have something or someone to look after.

He denies this part of himself as much as he can, because he’s not that man anymore. Not after Sarah. He’s not. You don’t stay somebody dying to help and protect when you kill people. Because they’re still people, under the fungus. Under the parasite. Their brain’s still work. They still feel pain and anguish and fear.

He’s heard them cry before. Hunched over a corpse, body acting with somebody else at the reins, faces covered in blood and gore crying “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry.”

So Joel isn’t a protective guy anymore. Had to take out those parts. Replace them with solitary and meanness and a distinct lack of sympathy.

It’s turned him into an angry thing. Like a gaurd dog; snarling, circling an empty pedestal it refuses to acknowledge is there.

He knows Tommy see’s it. Try’s to involve him in things whenever he can, invites him over to dinner. Hangs out at his house. Makes sure Joel isn’t alone-alone.

So Joel really, really should’ve seen it coming when he and the scouting party find you in the woods.

You’re just as surprised to see them as they are to see you. They thought they were tracking a deer— although some of the tracks and patterns of disturbance in the underbrush didn’t add up.

They’d entered a clearing, guns poised, just to see you, handgun leveled at them, perched in a tree. Way higher up than Joel would’ve dared.

“Stay the fuck away from me.” You’d hissed, voice carrying on the wind and rattling just like the leaves on the tree you’re in. How you managed to scale a tree that high in a busted pair of Doc Martens and lugging a backpack clearly full of supplies is beyond him.

But he doesn’t need medical credentials to know you’ve clearly had a rough go of things.

You’re young. Not young-young, but young. Dressed in clothes clearly pilfered, you’re wearing a thick brown jacket that probably would’ve belonged to a construction worker or something like that. It’s a few sizes too big, and the cuffs are frayed and there’s a hastily sewn patch on the elbow he can see. Your face and hair is littered with tree and other plant debris- though if this is a new addition from your tree climbing escapade, he’s not sure. Your nose has dried blood crusted under it, your lip is split, and there’s a cut above your eyebrow. Your knuckles and hands are equally torn and split, old and new scars and scrapes littering your skin.

In short: you look rough. And feral, in that way that cats that live outside a little too long and a little too far away from people end up looking.

“I said stay back!”

He remembers, abruptly, that you’re probably scared out of your mind and the rest of the scouting team is still pointing their weapons at you.

He makes the motion for them to lower their weapons, and he lowers his own, raising both hands in the universal “we come in peace” gesture.

You don’t lower yours, but your grip on it is looser.

“We’re from the Jackson settlement,” He shouts, hoping you don’t hear the gruff anger in his voice that Tommy always complains he needs to work on. “There’s running water and electricity.”

“I’ve heard that one before,” Your hands have begun to shake on the gun, ever so slightly. “So what’s your guys prerogative, huh? Cannablism? Religion? You planning on burning me at the stake? Or did you have something else in mind? I am a woman.”

Joel takes a step forward but stops when a bullet hits the ground right where his foot was about to be.

“If you take one more step you’re gonna find out exactly why I’ve survived alone this long.”

“Look,” He says, dropping his hands to his hips. “You can shoot us, and one of us will shoot you, and it’ll all be fine and dandy—“

There’s a chorus of whispers behind him.

“Or you can stay in that tree and not shoot us, and we won’t shoot you, and that’ll also be fine and dandy.”

He turns, jamming a finger in the direction of the settlement. “Jackson’s that way. Go or don’t go. I don’t really give a shit, but you look like you could use a bandaid.”

He jerks his head, and the rest of the party follows his lead, leaving the clearing —and you— behind.

—

A few hours after he returns, somewhere in the late evening when twilight is starting to set in and the crickets are chirping, Tommy knocks on his door.

“There’s a girl here for you.”

He raises an eyebrow. “Someone asked for me?”

“Well, not so much as for you. Her words exactly were “that gruff, mean looking asshole,” but I got the picture.”

He sighs, deep in his bones. A small part of him —the part that’s still connected to that dog, still circling— had hoped you would show up. However, it’s hopelessly overshadowed by the sheer exasperation of it all.

He’s silent save for non-committal grunts and hmm’s the way over to the front gates where the evening rotation’s guards have you standing between them.

You’re slightly worse for wear since the last time he saw you in that tree. Your jacket as a new rip in it, and your nose is sluggishly bleeding again. Up close, he notices it’s a bit crooked.

Gonna hurt like a bitch to set, He thinks absentmindedly.

He slows as he approaches you, hands in his pockets and shoulders back.

“See?” He huffs, gesturing with one hand behind him. “Not cannibals. Or whatever else you’re worried about.”

Your face is hard set as you look around. “That remains to be seen.”

“Hello!”

Joel looks back to see a pregnant Maria waddling over, a concerned Tommy at her side.

“I told you I’d handle it—“

“And I told you I’m fine. Now,” She props her hands on her hips. “Who’s this young lady now?”

You (hesitantly) stick out a hand to shake and introduce yourself.

She shakes your hand with a smile. Leave it to Maria to be able to read people with such ease. “I’m Maria Miller. I’m one of the settlement councilors. The golden retriever fussing next to me is my husband, Tommy, and the angry looking bear next to him is his brother, Joel. I understand a scouting party found you?”

You nod, eyes flicking this way and that, cataloguing the area.

“I’ve been on my own for… awhile. I don’t have any supplies to offer, but I’m smart and strong. I’m willing to work in exchange for a place to stay.”

Maria hums, assessing. “I’m sure we can work something out. You’ll need to come with me to speak to the rest of the council, for our safety and yours.”

You tighten your grip on your backpack but follow Maria and Tommy, only sparing one backward glance at Joel.

He spends the rest of the evening trying to forget the look in your eyes.

—

He fails spectacularly.

This doesn’t mean, however, that he’s anywhere near pleased when his nightly reading-as-a-poor-attempt-at-normalcy routine is interrupted by a knock on the door. One that sounds suspiciously like Tommy’s type of knock.

Only he hears two voices as he walks up to the door, and the other one isn’t Maria.

Joel opens the door with a glare already fixed on his face.

“There have to be other places.”

Tommy rolls his eyes. “It’s only temporary. The council agreed to let her stay so long as she’s watched by a trusted Jackson member, and well. You vouched for her.”

“And when exactly did I do that?”

“In the woods, when you met. You told her where you were from and how to get there. Honestly, Joel, you’re getting off light here. Some of the council members were not happy you told a random loner —no offense— where to find us. Kind of defeats the whole point.”

You huff a quiet “None taken.”

He can’t help the way his body tenses. “So this is a punishment?”

“Yes and no.”

“I don’t—“

“Look,” you interject, clearly fed up with the conversation. “It’s not the end of the world. I’m not going to murder you in your sleep and I don’t leave dirty clothes lying around. It’s only for three weeks. Get over it.”

Another sigh threatens to release itself, but he stamps it down, figuring he’s hit his sigh quota for the day.

“Fine. But take her down to medical first. I don’t want her blood all over my house.”

Tommy shrugs. “No-can-do. Maria needs me back at the house. You know where medical is. I’m sure you’ll manage.”

And with that, Tommy leaves, abandoning Joel and you at the doorstep.

Joel scrubs a hand down his face. “Wait there. I’ll grab a jacket.”

The walk to the clinic is awkward and silent, and just when Joel thinks it can’t get any worse, one of the staff tells him that since he’s your assigned supervisor/watcher/whatever, he has to accompany you. To everything.

To your credit, you don’t look very happy about the arrangement either.

Still, you bear through all the exams, a grimace fixed firmly on your face. Apparently (and not surprisingly) you’re malnourished, dehydrated, running a small fever, deficient in several vitamins, have two cracked ribs (most likely, no x-ray machine) and some run of the mill scraps and bruises.

You’re cagey enough on the details of the cracked ribs and nose that the doctor eventually moves on to the fixing you stage of things.

It takes awhile. There are a lot of injuries to cover.

When it comes to resetting your nose, the second the woman pulls out a needle and syringe, you go rigid.

“No.”

The doctor blinks. “This is just lidocaine, it’ll numb the area so—“

“No.”

“You wanna feel all that?” Joel asks, the first time he’s spoken during your entire exam, “It ain’t gonna feel great. Crooked nose like that won’t set with one go.”

“No needles. No numbing.”

Joel rolls his eyes. “What, you got a pain thing or something?”

Your hands go white-knuckled on the exam table. “Fuck. Off.”

You’re shaking, he notes.

Ah, He says to himself. Not a pain thing.

Fear.

The doctor shrugs. “Not like I won’t take the chance to save what we have. You’ll want something to bite down on. Or squeeze.”

You wrap your fingers around your own hand, a pathetic attempt at self-soothing.

He decides annoyance is the emotion he feels at your small movement. Nothing else.

He rolls his eyes as he grabs your hand, maneuvering it in place of your own.

“Good luck breaking it.”

You don’t respond. He wasn’t really expecting you to.

He knows without looking the exact moment the doctor starts resetting things because your grip on his hand quickly turns from barely there to crushing. You make no sound.

The doctor, to her credit, works fairly quickly, though by the time she’s finished a single tear has carved a path through the blood and grime on your face.

He thinks about how someone learns to cry without sound.

The doctor moves on quickly, cleaning and bandaging the wounds that need it and telling you detailed instructions for how to take care of your nose and cracked ribs and what things you should be eating to avoid staying vitamin deficient. It’s all a lot of words Joel is glad he doesn’t have to memorize.

They stick in his head anyway.

You don’t let go of his hand. You’re no longer squeezing the life out of it, but you’re not holding its gently either. When you do finally let go (after the doctor’s left and you can leave) you practically tear your hand away, as if burned. Like you’d left your hand on a stove as it was heating up only you just now noticed it was hot.

He doesn't say anything about it. He figures you're liable to literally bite his head off, or some other violent action close to that.

Besides. This is all awkward enough.

The walk back to the house is just as silent and strained as the walk to the clinic. Only now your breath is just a little more labored. Steps a little shakier. Your hand's twitch at your sides like they're reaching for something, and you don't quite manage to hide the way you look around every now and then, a restless, nervous action.

He knows what you're doing. He was you, back when he first got to Jackson. Granted, he wasn't as twitchy as you are. He kept his distance, stayed mean and scary (as possible.)

He holds the door open for you when you arrive back to the house, because his mom raised him to be a gentleman no matter the circumstances.

You toss him a look of confusion and annoyance but step into the house, looking around the modest living room with something almost like wonder.

He toes off his shoes, sets them by the door, and takes off his jacket, hanging it on the hook. "Shower before you touch anything. You're filthy. And don't think I'm giving up my bed."

"I wouldn't have taken it even if you had," You sneer. "Where's the--"

"Down the hall on the left. You got clean clothes?"

"...I have less dirty ones."

He pinches the bridge of his nose. "Wait here."

He grumbles all the way upstairs, all the way through picking out clothes that'll fit you well enough until you either wash what you have or find something else.

He silently glowers as he comes down the stairs, thrusting the clothes out to you and turning on his heel when you take them.

"I'm going to bed. Don't wake me up."

When he lies in bed that night, he can't even pretend he's not thinking about you. In his defense, it's less about you and more about the new, strange, stand-offish person he's just supposed to live with for the foreseeable future. All because he had the bad luck of feeling bad for the battered, flighty, loner girl sitting in a tree.

He stares at his ceiling, internal clock (yes, he's old, he has an internal clock. Sue him) letting him know it is decidedly an hour he should be asleep. He refuses to go downstairs, on principle alone. He could get up and go find one of his books, but he knows that if you're anything like him, coming off of however long you spent alone, you're a light sleeper. You're probably awake now, listening to him toss and turn and being unnerved by the unusual silence of Jackson and the particular brand of night-noise it produces. That's what the first two weeks of Joel's life in Jackson consisted of, before he moved in here.

Maria had decided that Joel would stay with the two of them until he integrated in Jackson society. Perks of your brother marrying a council member, he guesses.

So he's not going downstairs. Not going to walk down there just to see a person, an entire person in his house looking like, looking like--

Fuck.

He throws his blankets off and angrily (but not loudly) marches downstairs to get himself a glass of water and the book he knows he left on the table by the couch when he was so rudely interrupted by you. This is his house, dammit, he refuses to be put out by a random girl.

Woman, his brain corrects.

The living room is completely dark when he makes his way down the stairs and he truly, honestly wishes he was surprised when there's a whoosh of air to his right and a knife embeds itself in the wall about a half inch away from the side of his face.

The living room is still and silent.

"I thought they took your weapons when you got here."

"I lied about what I had."

He scrubs a hand down his face, yanks the knife out of the wall, and tosses it back. If you can throw it, you can dodge it.

He doesn't hear any screams, yelps, or grunts of pain, so he assumes you caught it fine. Or at least dodged it.

He makes his way over to the kitchen, grabs the teapot, and takes down two mugs.

"You know they can kick you out for harboring weapons during your probationary stay."

He hears a rustle of blankets behind him. The sound of you stashing your knife, no doubt.

"Are you going to tell them?"

He snorts, filling up the teapot. "No. There's been a knife in my boot since the day I got here."

He hears more rustling, and decides against turning around. He's not quite sure what you've been doing down here all night since it's clear that you weren't sleeping.

He doesn't hear any footsteps, but when does turn around to set the mugs on the table, you're sitting at it, knees pulled up and head resting atop them, your cheek smushed. Now that his eye's have adjusted to the darkness of the living room, he can almost make out your features. They're easier to discern, now that you're not covered in blood and grime. You look... softer. Haloed in the glow of moonlight shining through the gaps in the curtains.

Your face isn't the only thing glowing. The tell-tale glint of a knife --a different, smaller knife than the one you'd thrown at him-- shines from it's spot, resting oh-so innocently on the table.

Joel just huffs.

"No weapons on the table."

He blinks, and it's gone.

He doesn't ask why you're still awake or what you've been doing instead of sleeping. You don't ask why he's down in the kitchen at all.

"What are you making?"

"Tea."

He gently places a teabag in each mug. He isn't really sure why he's doing this for you. You've done nothing but hiss and spit since he's met you.

But tonight, right now, blanketed in the not-quite calm of the night and the apparent unease you both drown in--

It's tolerable. You're tolerable.

So he takes the kettle off the stove and pours the water and places the steaming mug on the table in front of you.

To which you ignore, and snatch the mug out of his hands instead.

"Did you think I put that one," He points to the mug in front of you, "There for giggles?"

You cradle the mug in your hands, seemingly entranced with the warmth and steam. "You might've poisoned mine."

"Maybe I poisoned both."

You take a sip, then grimace when the too-hot liquid hits your tongue.

"You don't look like the kind of person to have built an immunity to poison."

"You also watched me make both beverages."

"So? It's dark. You could've slipped something in. Or maybe it was already in the teabags."

"What use would I even have for you dead?"

You shrug. "I don't know. You tell me."

“You’re a deeply mistrusting person.”

“And you’re not?”

Touché.

Joel remains in the kitchen, leaned against a cabinet sipping your tea, while you stay hunched at the table, sipping yours.

If he removes the irritability and the uncomfortable-ness of everything that involves you living with him, the moment is almost… companionable. Pleasant, even.

It… soothes that nervous part of him. Not the sad nervous. The angry nervous. That built up crack of anger.

There’s another person in his home that is neither attempting to perceive his problems nor actively attempting to kill him. Your belief that he might poison you aside, you still accepted the tea.

He firmly believes that Tommy isn’t right about the loneliness thing though. His brother being right is just a world Joel can’t live in.

Besides. It’s too early to tell anything anyway.

—

Unfortunately, the following few days do not go… terribly.

That isn’t to say they go well, though. Since he’s looking after you (read: making sure you’re not an axe-murderer or something) he’s not allowed to go out on scouting or hunting trips. Or solo guard rotations he’s come to covet.

It’s boring, and having you around is strange.

It’s interesting, when he gets bored enough, because if he focuses hard enough he can guess what events happened to you based on your reactions to certain things. He’s pretty sure you were drugged at some point based on your reaction to the doctor with the lidocaine. You’re general skittish and flighty nature can be easily attributed to the conditions in which everyone in the world is living in, but your particular brand of distrust and aggression says that humans, not the infected, have been the ones to hurt you the most. Your general unease in open areas or areas with not easily accessible exits leads him to believe that there have been several extremely close calls in several points of your survival.

He knows you’ve been shot before, but that one was an accident. He’d come downstairs, rubbing bleary sleep from his eyes and accidentally stumbled across you changing. Well, finishing changing. He’d quickly closed his eyes and turned around, and thankfully you hadn’t startled, but he had caught a glimpse of the stretch of skin not covered by the long sleeve undershirt you favored. On the left side, just above your hip and a few inches towards your bellybutton, there’s a jagged, raised, circular scar. Still pink.

He knows you have a very slight, very subtle limp. He’s not sure what causes it, but he knows you have one. It tends to act up when you do a lot of strenuous exercise for an extended period of time. Some days you wake up and it’s worse. On those days, you’re a little more mean, and a little more skittish.

He’s yet to see you actually, legitimately sleep.

He’s starting to think you haven’t, since arriving.

Which is insane, because it’s been four days.

The bags under your eyes are horrific, even to him. You’ve gotten clumsier and clumsier, your attention span and memory are terrible, and he thinks you might’ve started hallucinating, if the times he’s seen you staring off into space with concerned, fearful, or twisted expressions on your face and mumbled rambles he can’t make out are anything to go by.

On day five, when Joel comes downstairs in the morning and the knife you throw at him bounces harmlessly off the wall and clatters to the ground and you just stare at it, eyes foggy and unseeing, he decides to talk to Maria.

“I don’t really care,” He says, because he has a reputation to uphold dammit, “But I’m not sure how much longer she’s gonna last, and what she’s gonna do when she wakes up.”

“Mmm,” Maria hums, hands clasped on the table and staring at Joel with her best ‘I don’t believe you don’t care’ look. She’s really perfected it, “Well the truth is, she can’t go forever. It’s fear keeping her up now. Happens a lot with the loners that come in. Especially the women. She’s afraid that no one’s there to watch her back and terrified she won’t be strong enough to fend off any attackers.”

Maria looks at her hands. “The fear is exacerbated by the fact that the council took most of her weapons.”

“You knew—“

“She was lying? Of course I did. So did several of the other members, I’m sure. But she’s not a threat. She’s scared.”

He thumbs the thin scar on his cheek from the knife came just a little too close to hitting the mark when he sneezed in the kitchen. “She’s got a funny way of being scared.”

“Fight or flight, Joel. She knows flight isn’t an option.”

“Why are you lobbying so hard in her defense?”

“I’m not. I’m explaining her actions. Also,” She gives a knowing smile, “You’ve started to care. Otherwise you wouldn’t be coming to me about this.”

“Yeah, yeah,” He grouses. “So what am I supposed to do? Just wait for her to pass out?”

“You could. It’ll happen eventually. She very clearly doesn’t have that many hours left in her. That’s probably freaking her out more. Or, you could subtly show her that she can sleep around you. She needs to know that she’s safe from whatever it is she’s running from.”

Joel keeps his eyes locked on the kitchen table, tracing the grain in the wood with an absent-minded finger.

“I know you pushed for her to stay with me.”

“The council wanted a punishment that fit the crime.”

“Look, I appreciate the thought—“

Maria’s expression flattens. “Joel. Do not sit at my table and lie about how you don’t need anyone and you’re fine on your own. You need this.“

“I don’t need this,” He scoffs, “She’s practically half-feral. No one needs that.”

Maria stands, shrugging. “Then I guess you’ll have to file for a name change, No-One Miller. Until then, make sure she’s not alone when she wakes up.”

—

He did leave you alone for the duration of his conversation with Maria, because fuck if he was bringing you to that, and he figured you both could use some time away from each other. He knows he can.

He’s not very surprised to hear the familar whoosh of a small, sharp object sailing through the air that tends to accompany his arrival into rooms you’re occupying (he’s pretty sure it stopped being a fear response after the first two times and now you’re just messing with him) but he is suprised to see that this time, the knife doesn’t even make it head height. Or to the wall.

It clatters uselessly to the ground near his feet. He stares at the metal between his boots and then up at you—

“Why are you sitting on the kitchen counter?”

“I don’t remember.”

He leaves the knife on the ground and makes his way over to you, watching with mock disinterest at the several-seconds-delayed flinch you make when he stands in front of you.

You look up at him, eyes glassy and unfocused and you just look so, so tired.

There’s a curl of protectiveness in his chest that keeps trying to spread, keeps trying to grow. Here, in the kitchen, your legs dangling over the edge of the counter, bathed in the glow of the mid-day sun, it takes root. Right in the center.

He looks down at your feet. “What happened to your other shoe?”

You scrunch up your face. “I don’t… I was getting in bed, I think. But it wasn’t my bed. I forgot that things aren’t—“

That things aren’t the same anymore.

He crouches down, untying the laces of your boot and shucking it aside somewhere.

“Alright, come on.”

You slide off the counter, clumsy and uncoordinated. He takes your hand in his, leads you up to the bedroom.

The stairs are difficult for your tired, barely working brain. He has to stop multiple times to physically lift your legs or stop you from falling over and cracking your head open.

You finally make it up there, though, and he realizes that you probably won’t want to sleep in your everyday clothes.

“One last step.”

He can’t help but notice how intimate the moment is. Not intimate-intimate, but. He instructs you softly to lift your arms so he can tug your shirt over your head and replaces it with a soft shirt of his own.

Staring into your eyes is too charged and allowing his eyes to wander is bad for obvious reasons, so he keeps his gaze firmly fixed on the junction of where your neck meets your shoulder.

He keeps his eyes there as he helps you out of your pants and into a pair of flannel pajama pants. The same ones he’d given you the first night you came. You’ve never slept and he’s never seen you go to any of the places he knows have extra clothes, so he’s almost positive you don’t have any pajamas at all.

His fingers work quickly to tie the drawstring on the pants, and even then, they hang low on your hips.

He doesn’t let his eyes linger.

“Come on,” He says taking your arm and tugging you toward the bed. “Time for sleep.”

“It’s the middle of the day,” You mumble, standing in place. “And I can’t, what if they—“

“I’ll be here the whole time. I’ll keep watch.”

You mull his words over in your head for a few moments before stumbling the final few steps into the bed. You practically collapse into it, shuffling for a just few seconds before your breath evens out.

You’re asleep.

He reaches over, adjusting the blankets a bit, before grabbing the book he’d left on the bedside table and settling down in the chair by the bed.

The hours tick by quietly, accompanied only by the quiet rustling of pages turning and your soft snores.

For the first time in awhile, he doesn’t feel restless.

—

You sleep for a full eighteen hours straight before you stir.

He’s a good portion of the way through his book before he see’s your body tense in the corner of his eye. Your breathes are still even and deep, so if he couldn’t see you, he probably wouldn’t notice you’re awake.

“You’ve been asleep for eighteen hours,” He says, voice rough and scratchy with disuse, “You got in bed voluntarily.”

“You changed my clothes.”

“You didn’t seem all that capable of doing so yourself and I didn’t think you wanted to sleep in jeans. You mind?”

“…No.”

“Good. Go back to sleep.”

“I can’t just—“

“You didn’t sleep for five days. If we’re going by the eight hours a night average needed or whatever, that’s forty hours. You’ve still got twenty-two left to catch up on.”

You roll over to face him with a grumble. “I don’t like how good you are at mental math.”

“Get better, then.”

You shimmy out from under the blankets, tossing him an “I have to pee,” as you make your way out of the room.

It’s early morning now, weak sunlight behind to strain its way through the curtains. He figures it’s a good enough time to make some food (and coffee) if you’re going to be going to back sleep, so he meanders down to the kitchen and throws together a small breakfast.

“Did you make us breakfast?”

He never really gets used to how quietly you move through rooms.

“Jesus— yes. Here.”

He hands you a bowl with oatmeal and a small plate with a slice of toast— toasted in a pan, because electricity aside, he doesn’t own a toaster. Why waste time scavenging for an appliance when something else works just as fine?

He sets a jar of jam on the counter that he’d picked up awhile ago in exchange for fixing the hinge on somebody’s door.

“You got any allergies?”

“None that matter.”

He nods to the table. “Go eat. Then get back in bed.”

“You’re so bossy.”

“And you’re annoying. Eat.”

You eat quickly and quietly, then wordlessly follow him back upstairs, climbing back into bed.

“Joel?” You whisper.

“Hm?”

“Thank you.”

He tucks the blanket up over your shoulder. “Go to sleep.”

You obey easily.

—

Things between the two of you… soften after that. He slowly sees more pieces of your personality than the wild thing he met that day in the woods.

He learns that you love peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, but miss peanut butter and nutella sandwiches more than anything. He learns that on good days, you like drinking coffee straight black, but on bad days, you like it with milk and sugar.

He learns that your limp is the result of one careless mistake you’d made when you first surviving on your own.

“I thought the house was abandoned. It wasn’t,” You’d rolled up your pant leg to show horrific, deep, jagged scars circling your ankle, “Guy had set out a bear trap to slow down some of the clickers in the area. It was dark. Didn’t notice it until too late.”

He learns that you, despite your snide remarks and sarcastic comments, like having him around. He feels a bit like earning the trust of a stray cat.

You begin to grow more comfortable with life in Jackson, though not by much. He’s sure you weren’t a people person before the outbreak, much less so now that he knows some of the horrors you’ve been through before you got here.

He’s even started getting used to how quietly you move.

It’s easy to fall into a rhythm, from there.

He wakes up, goes downstairs. Sometime’s there’s a knife thrown at him, sometimes there isn’t. You’re usually sprawled on the couch, drool coming out of your mouth and grumbling incoherently about “old men and their stupid early mornings.”

It’s almost endearing.

Since Joel spends a lot of time helping Maria and Tommy get ready for their baby, you, in turn, get to know the both of them by being stuck with Joel. Maria set you on edge at first, Tommy slightly less so, but through continuous interactions your prickly nature smoothed.

One night, you were all seated on their couch after enjoying a dinner together —not the first and definitely not the last— having quiet conversation. You’re totally passed out on Joel’s shoulder, dead-asleep and quite content to use him as a human teddy bear.

Maria smiles over her mug of tea. “She’s grown on you.”

Joel rolls his eyes. “Yeah, yeah. She’s not all bad.”

“High praise coming from Joel Miller.”

You have grown on him. And in turn, your relationship has started to grow into… something else. Sometimes his eyes linger just a little too long, and the looks you share feel just a little too charged.

Tommy sends him a look full of words only true siblings can understand.

“No, Tommy.”

“Oh come on Joel! You both clearly—“

“We are not having this conversation right now.”

“Why not?”

“Because—“

You fling an arm out wildly, smacking him in the side of his face and grasping around until your pointer finger finally finds his lips.

“Shhhh. M’ sleeping.”

He wraps his hand around your wrist, prying your fingers off his face. “You know that’s what bed’s are for. Or couches. Or any number of surfaces I’ve found you sleeping on.”

“You’re a surface I’m sleeping on.”

“I shouldn’t be.”

“Why not?”

“Because I’m not a bed. Come on, up and at em’.”

You whine at the loss of warmth when he stands, scowling as you haul yourself to your feet. As he’s putting on his boots by the door, he hears you thanking Maria and Tommy for their hospitality, and he can’t help the little smile that twitches on his face. Seems like his parents weren’t the only ones who made sure he had manners.

You meet him at the door, hopping in place to put your boots on and getting frustrated when they don’t slide on immediately.

“You know, it would help if you untied the laces—“

“Fuck off.”

He blinks. That seems a little more mean than you usually say nowadays.

So Joel takes a step back. Watch’s your legs and your shoes and your hands—

There.

Your hands shake as you fumble with the laces, unable to get a good grip on the thin cords to untie and re-tie your shoes.

He shoos your hands away from the singular boot you haven’t managed to get on.

“Sit.”

He’s thankful that he built the shoe bench for Maria a few weeks after he got to Jackson. It serves Maria well for not having to stand while she attempts to put her shoes on while heavily pregnant, a feat she bemoaned a few times, and now it’s serving you.

You plop down on the bench with a huff, crossing your arms as Joel crouches, undoing the laces of your boot and sliding it on.

“I can do it.”

“I know you can.”

“Why’re you doing it?”

“Because.”

“That’s not an answer.”

He secures the tie on one boot and moves on to the next. “It is tonight.”

Once both shoes are on, you both bid Tommy and Maria good night, and make your way home.

If your hand find’s Joel’s, then that’s not anyone’s business.

—

He notices things after that.

You’ve started snapping at him more often. You’re not sleeping as much. You’ve started flat out refusing to go with him on daily chores as tasks, which either leads to an argument or the both of you staying at home all day.

It all comes to a head when you wake up screaming.

He thunders down the stairs, ducking on instinct for a knife that doesn’t come. You’re not on the couch. He whips his head around, the screaming stopped he can’t find you—

A thud. A panicked gasp.

He moves on slow, apprehensive feet towards the kitchen, crouching down to see you huddled under the table, knife clenched in your hand and pointed toward him.

“Hey, hey, what’s going on?”

Your eyes are wide and shining with tears.

“You died.”

“I didn’t. I’m right here.”

You shake your head, breaths coming short and shallow.

He settles on the floor, crossing his legs. “Here, take my hand. Come on.”

He extends his hand into the space between you two. Achingly slowly, you put down the knife, and take his hand in yours.

“See? I’m still here.”

Eventually, your breathing slows, and the fear begins to leave your eyes. You drop his hand.

“I’m sorry.”

“Nothing to be sorry for.”

“No, no it’s just—“ You break off with a strangled noise.

He waits. Lets a few minutes tick by.

“Does this have anything to do with the fact you’ve been avoidin’ me?”

You look down. “You noticed?”

“I do have eyes, sweetheart.”

You grab the knife again, twisting it this way and that in your hands.

“I’m scared.”

“Of what?”

“Of you.”

He tilts his head. “How come?”

You’re silent for a little while again.

“I feel… okay with you.”

“And that’s scary?”

“Yes,” You breathe, “You could leave, or die, and it scares me that I’m already attached to you. That having nightmare’s of you dying affects me so much. That they happen at all.”

He hums. “Seem’s were at an impasse.”

He taps a finger on his knee.

“It’s not all bad. To care.”

“Who are you and what have you done with Joel Miller?”

He huffs, shaking his head. “You know, against my better judgment, I’ve come to tolerate having you around.”

“Tolerate?”

“Mhm.”

“Nothing else?”

“No.”

“So you’ve never thought about kissing me?”

Heat rushes to his face. “Is that really a question you want to be asking right now?”

“Yes.”

“Mm,” He stands, “Well I don’t answer that kind of question at this hour. Come on.”

He reaches under the table and pulls you out.

You clamber to your feet, still a little shaky after your nightmare.

You turn to go back to the couch, but stops when he tugs on your arm.

“Mm-mm. No couch tonight.”

You look up at him, a question in your eyes he doesn’t know how to answer with words.

He steps forward, rough hands coming up to your face, thumb swiping the crest of your cheek.

“Tell me to stop.”

“I won’t.”

He leans down, capturing your lips in a kiss, soft and slow.

He pulls away after a few moments, searching your face for any sign of negativity or displeasure or disgust or, or—

You surge up, kissing him again, all the same fiery passion he saw the day you met.

“I suppose that answers my question.”

He chuckles. “You think?”

“I hope so.”

His hands slide down to your waist. and he can’t resist the little squeeze he gives the skin there.

“Alright. Back to bed, let’s go.”

“I forgot how tired old men get.”

“Please don’t call me an old man right after we kiss.”

He can hear your quiet snorting laughter as you climb the stairs, socked feet silent as always.

You climb into bed first, shoving yourself into the side by the wall and then making grabby motions for Joel.

“Am I just a pillow to you?”

“Yes. Come be a pillow.”

He rolls his eyes but slips into bed next to you and quietly relishes in the pleased hum you let out as you wrap your arms around his waist, practically smashing your face into his chest.

“You comfortable there?”

“Mhm.”

He curls one arm around you, his other hand coming up to cup the back of your neck. This close, he feels the shudder run through your body at the motion, and curious, he gives your nape a little squeeze.

Your reaction is instantaneous. You go limp- completely boneless.

“I got you, I got you. Go to sleep, now.”

It doesn’t take you long. And with you asleep so soundly in his arms, he follows right behind you.

☆⋆｡𖦹°‧★

[feminist-space]

Cat in the Hat:

"The German Health Minister gave an important update on the Covid situation yesterday.

I’ve written up the section of his speech from the video below for easy reading.

It’s immensely refreshing to see a government minister warning of the harms of Covid in such a transparent way."

https://x.com/_catinthehat/status/1732092683508678954

Prof. Karl Lauterbach

Health Minister, Germany

4 December 2023

"This second (long Covid) round table was very interesting, lasting three and a half hours. It serves as a unique forum for dialogue among scientists, researchers and those affected by long Covid, facilitating the exchange of ideas.

There are many new findings about long Covid. Not all of them are good news. One piece of not-so-good news concerns the fact that long Covid is actually still a problem for those who are newly infected. One estimate that has been put forward is that the risk of contracting long Covid now, even after vaccination, is around 3%. Now you may say, "that's not such a big risk" , but there are tens of thousands of people who are repeatedly affected in a short period of time. And so, the long Covid problem has not yet been solved.

We have also established that there really are many subgroups of long Covid and that we do not yet have a cure. And it was clearly pointed out that we are also dealing with problems here that will challenge society as a whole, because vascular diseases often occur after long Covid. Throughout Europe, we are currently seeing an increased incidence of cardiovascular disease in the middle-age group - from 25 to 50. This is associated with the consequences of Covid infections.

We also very often find cognitive impairment in older people. And one participant pointed out that it may well be like the Spanish flu, where 20 years after the Spanish flu there was a significant increase in Parkinson's disease and probably also dementia.

This is something we must pay attention to, as the past infection afiects how the immune system in the brain functions, as well as the brain's blood vessels, potentially increasing the long-term risk of these major neurodegenerative diseases. This is why we need to conduct very intensive research. This research has played a major role.

What is the overall assessment of the situation now?

We have to be careful. Long Covid is not curable at the moment. We also know that over 40% of those who have several manifestations of long Covid, for example, five or more, still have symptoms after 2 years, so it doesn't seem to heal spontaneously. We also know that those whose symptoms are more pronounced at the beginning are less likely to heal.

So some of what we know from the demographics of long Covid has been confirmed, and we now know more precisely which mechanisms in the brain, but also in the blood vessels and the immune system, are responsible for this. Professor Scheibenbogan will explain this briefly later.

At this point, I can only say the following - this is particularly important to me:

First of all, long Covid is a disease that stays with us and that we cannot yet cure. And we are seeing an increasing number of cases as the waves of infection continue to affect us.

Secondly, Covid is not a cold - with a cold, you don't usually see any long-term effects. You don't see any changes in the blood vessels. You don't usually see an autoimmune disease developing. You also don't usually see neurological inflammation - these are all things that we see with long Covid. Therefore, one should not assume that Covid infection is just a common cold. It can affect brain tissue and the vascular system, and we still lack an effective treatment, making these studies crucial.

Significantly, we know that the risk of long Covid decreases when you're infected but have been vaccinated. That's why it's concerning that only 3 million people have been vaccinated with the new, adapted vaccine. That is a very bad result.

Please protect yourself from severe infections.

Please protect yourself from long Covid.

Currently, the danger posed by Covid is indeed being underestimated. Nothing is worse than infecting someone at Christmas who then becomes seriously ill and may not fully recover."

Alt text is included in all images of this post.

[eelhound]

"The idea of reforming Omelas is a pleasant idea, to be sure, but it is one that Le Guin herself specifically tells us is not an option. No reform of Omelas is possible — at least, not without destroying Omelas itself:

If the child were brought up into the sunlight out of that vile place, if it were cleaned and fed and comforted, that would be a good thing, indeed; but if it were done, in that day and hour all the prosperity and beauty and delight of Omelas would wither and be destroyed. Those are the terms.

'Those are the terms', indeed. Le Guin’s original story is careful to cast the underlying evil of Omelas as un-addressable — not, as some have suggested, to 'cheat' or create a false dilemma, but as an intentionally insurmountable challenge to the reader. The premise of Omelas feels unfair because it is meant to be unfair. Instead of racing to find a clever solution ('Free the child! Replace it with a robot! Have everyone suffer a little bit instead of one person all at once!'), the reader is forced to consider how they might cope with moral injustice that is so foundational to their very way of life that it cannot be undone. Confronted with the choice to give up your entire way of life or allow someone else to suffer, what do you do? Do you stay and enjoy the fruits of their pain? Or do you reject this devil’s compromise at your own expense, even knowing that it may not even help? And through implication, we are then forced to consider whether we are — at this very moment! — already in exactly this situation. At what cost does our happiness come? And, even more significantly, at whose expense? And what, in fact, can be done? Can anything?

This is the essential and agonizing question that Le Guin poses, and we avoid it at our peril. It’s easy, but thoroughly besides the point, to say — as the narrator of 'The Ones Who Don’t Walk Away' does — that you would simply keep the nice things about Omelas, and work to address the bad. You might as well say that you would solve the trolley problem by putting rockets on the trolley and having it jump over the people tied to the tracks. Le Guin’s challenge is one that can only be resolved by introspection, because the challenge is one levied against the discomforting awareness of our own complicity; to 'reject the premise' is to reject this (all too real) discomfort in favor of empty wish fulfillment. A happy fairytale about the nobility of our imagined efforts against a hypothetical evil profits no one but ourselves (and I would argue that in the long run it robs us as well).

But in addition to being morally evasive, treating Omelas as a puzzle to be solved (or as a piece of straightforward didactic moralism) also flattens the depth of the original story. We are not really meant to understand Le Guin’s 'walking away' as a literal abandonment of a problem, nor as a self-satisfied 'Sounds bad, but I’m outta here', the way Vivier’s response piece or others of its ilk do; rather, it is framed as a rejection of complacency. This is why those who leave are shown not as triumphant heroes, but as harried and desperate fools; hopeless, troubled souls setting forth on a journey that may well be doomed from the start — because isn’t that the fate of most people who set out to fight the injustices they see, and that they cannot help but see once they have been made aware of it? The story is a metaphor, not a math problem, and 'walking away' might just as easily encompass any form of sincere and fully committed struggle against injustice: a lonely, often thankless journey, yet one which is no less essential for its difficulty."

- Kurt Schiller, from "Omelas, Je T'aime." Blood Knife, 8 July 2022.

[hope-for-the-planet]

If you get caught up in the mindset of "we are doomed because most humans are too dumb and selfish to solve climate change" I really encourage you to watch the first 12 minutes of this video.

I've also done my best to condense the most relevant quotes below.

"The biggest reason why we have a problem, is love. It's that we want to have children, we want them to survive, and so now there are 8 billion of us. And now that there are 8 billion of us, we want all 8 billion of those people to have pretty good lives." "[P]eople are so caught up in [...] the current moment, that you can't see how hard all of our ancestors worked to provide us with a world that has plenty of food [...], climate controlled shelter, and pretty easy transportation to anywhere within [...] 400 miles." "Humans are remarkable. We are very powerful. Give any species this level of power and they will provide opportunities for thriving for themselves and for their children. They will try and prevent their children from dying.[...] For the most part they will walk through fire to make sure that their children don't die. They will destroy the Earth to make sure their children won't die." "I don't want my son growing up thinking that the species that he's a part of is in some way evil. I feel like that's the root of a lot of [...] arm chair environmentalism. I want him thinking, humans are problem-solvers and solving problems creates new problems." "When we solve the global warming problem, we will have created new problems. And we're doing it right now. Renewable technologies use way more land [...], they impact the environment by being there [...]. And I think in the future we will uninstall a bunch of those things because we'll have other technologies that are better [...]. And the people in the future will be mad at us for the work that we did and that's fine. Just like we're kinda mad at all the people who made the world a better place by burning a bunch of coal so that we could have refrigerators [...]."

You can't hate yourself and your fellow humans into saving the world--and if you believe that all other humans are short sighted and selfish and doomed by their very nature then you are far more vulnerable to doomerism and hopelessness and giving up.

As Hank says in the video, the only reason we even know that climate change is a problem at all is because a lot of very intelligent humans were concerned about the possible impacts of fossil fuels on the future and did a whole lot of modeling and research so they could warn future humans about the risks. And we are primarily in this climate change situation in the first place because our ancestors wanted to use the readily available energy from fossil fuels to give their children and their communities better, safer, healthier lives.

Now we are trying to use brains that evolved primarily to deal with relatively little, immediate, tangible problems in small communities to solve a very large, long-term, largely intangible problem on a global scale. As frustrated as I am that we aren't solving this problem faster (and that there is small number of greedy fossil fuel executives trying to stop us from solving it for personal gain), most people are doing their best under very challenging circumstances.

Humans are driven to solve problems for the love of other humans--themselves, their families, their communities, humanity as a whole. We shouldn't base the drive to solve our current problems on disdain for ourselves and our fellow humans.

[freethefable]

having a bad time :thumbsup: