#Age-related knee issues

[ezlivingconcepts]

5 Major Reasons for Elderly Knee Pain and How to Manage It   

Over time, the knees endure significant wear and tear, making simple movements more difficult. Whether caused by arthritis, past injuries, or excess weight, knee pain can greatly affect mobility and overall well-being.

[void-tiger]

Some days I think I probably do need an actually trained service animal for mental health crap + the occasional chronic crap affecting my mobility.

But like…I don’t really want a dog. I want a Highly Trained mainecoon or norwegian forest cat. Just. This very large very fluffy very baseline breed intelligent cat known to take on BEARS (or, home invaders and men attempting SA).

I’d be THAT Crazy Lady walking this giant fluff monster most days, but other days just have my lap full of fluff when my hips-down don’t want to cooperate, or I need the comforting weight and fluffy company to hold the brain static at bay.

And some days…look. It hurts to grasp things. Or I risk dropping things. And cats can and will open cupboards and drawers if the handles let them hook their paws Just So to make up for the lack of opposable thumbs.

(Yeah yeah I know people are more accustomed to training dogs for this, but I’ve had quite a bit of luck training my “just housecats” as adults with various things, and people post the adventures they take with their mainecoons like, all the time…so think of what I could do with socializing and training a cat if I had the chance to do so.

(…also I just get along better with cats than dogs. They’re more tolerant to my need to not have a true routine. Also they poop in a box.)

[henry7931]

Great Shift; We Didn’t Choose These Bodies…

Trevor:

I’m officially 2 months into the Great Shift and I’m about to go insane! You see before all of this craziness went down— I was a 18 year old scrawny gay boy who lived across the street. The body that seems to be now mine forever belonged to 47 year old Jason Dixon. He’s a handsome guy, works in construction, and has one son named Carson.

Now Carson, is someone I’ve known since I was young. He’s a couple years older than me and I hate to say it but he was kinda my sexual awakening. He was on the swim team and I remember seeing him in a speedo— something about it just woke me up. And now all of this time later I still get weak to the knees when I see him.

Now the hard part about all of this is that our community has chosen as a whole to “pretend” and live our lives in public as the body we are in.

Which can be hard given people have swapped with different genders, ages… it gets kinda weird. But when I’m out in public, I’m Jason. No one causes me Trevor anymore, well accept for Ben.

Ben is a guy who lived a couple blocks down from me, I really didn’t know Ben prior to the Great Shift. He was a middle aged gay guy who lived alone. And now he’s inside of Carson’s body.

We both now live under a house together that never belonged to us and are forced to pretend to be ‘father and son’ in public.

At home both of us have just really enjoyed each other’s company. We’re both gay and openly talk about guys, what we like about them, music, all kinds of stuff. The house is kind of our safe space to be ourselves.

Except him and I have one huge issue— we both are very attracted to each other’s bodies. Ben confessed to me one time while we were sitting on the couch together drinking a bottle of wine that Jason’s body is like the man of his dreams.

And I get it, Mr. Dixon is a good looking guy. I enjoy having his big muscled hairy body on a daily basis. Especially since he has a gigantic cock and a pair of sexy feet.

I guess they’re something he passed down to Carson because I can’t stop looking at them! I already had a foot fetish before this mess and I have to watch Ben strut around in his body… he never wears socks or a shirt or pants for that matter!

So what do I do in response? Well, I turned it up a notch. Not only did I strip down to less but I stopped wearing underwear around the house. I’ll free ball so he can see my sexy daddy junk flopping around as I walk. And boy did I get his attention!

He can’t take his eyes off of it!

That lead to the back and forth mirror selfies… both of sending more and more risky photos of each other.

And then came Ben placing Carson’s big smelly feet on my lap… I know he knows I have a thing for feet! He looks over at me with a very cheeky ton and says, “my feet are killing me! Could you rub them?”

And of course I said yes, I rubbed his feet for 15 minutes until I knew I couldn’t take anymore!

I hightailed it to the bathroom, locked the door, and wanked one out. I knew in that moment, I was done with games. I need to address this.

So that night, we sat on the couch after dinner watching a movie. I wrap my arm around him and he freezes up.

“Sorry need to stretch out a bit, I say to him.”

He acknowledges my excuse and leans his on me.

I start rubbing up and down his forearm softly wondering if he’s going to do something about it.

He says nothing… a few moments later, Ben puts his feet on mine and starts rubbing his toes back and forth.

I lift my head up and look at him. I kiss him on the cheek. He looks taken aback by it.

“Trev, you know we can’t.”

“And why the fuck not?”

“Because we are technically father and son…”

“That’s such a BS excuse, you flirt with me for weeks now. You and I aren’t related. Now these bodies might be but who the hell has to know?”

“Yeah but what if we get caught?”

“We won’t… now just relax.”

I grab his junk and lets out a yelp noise.

“You’ve toyed with me for too long Ben. You and I are going to explore every inch of each other starting tonight. You’re gonna come sleep in daddy‘s bed for now on do you understand?”

“Fuck…”

I pulled his pants down and fully expose him. I see his beautiful cock, really for the first time. It’s so hard and already leaking. I’ve bend my head down and gingerly lick become off of his head. I knew that been like to be dominated. We both shared our fantasies with each other. He’s always wanted some handsome hairy bearded muscular daddy to boss him around. And that’s what I’m gonna do.

“ Do you understand daddy‘s orders?,” I say to him. he knows his head. I grabbed his dick and play with the head of his cock, running my thumb back-and-forth on it.

“ I said did you understand daddy’s orders? I need to hear you.”

“Yes—“

“ yes what?”

“Yes daddy!”

“ good now let’s head to bed, daddy needs you to use that pretty mouth of yours on his massive cock.”

I pull off my shorts and out comes Jason’s massive dick that I know he’s been fantasizing for a long time now.

“ Trevor, this is so fucking hot. Thank you for doing this. I’ve been wanting the touch that body for so long. I wanna suck your cock so bad. I wanna feel up and down that hairy chest. I wanna smell those big manly feet. I want you to cuddle at night. God I’m so happy this is finally happening. Deep down since this whole swap thing happened it’s all I’ve ever wanted. Not only are you in the body of my dreams, but I really like you.”

“ fuck Ben! Way to kill the mood with that last part, I really fucking like you too. How about we just stick to role-playing and worry about our emotions later. Daddy’s worrying as fuck lol.” 

“ shit you wanna get really crazy what about if you’re sexy ass son talk to you tonight?”

“ that’s hot as shit you know I’m a bottom!”

“ yeah but you’re gonna have to tell me every now and then especially with that massive dick of yours.” 

“ well then I want a foot job. You know I like feet and you know what I like those feet. Which by the way, you’re such a dick for making rub them for like 30 minutes the other day. I literally had to run to the bathroom and jerk one out.”

“ ha ha I literally I knew it!”

“So you ready?”

“Yep!!”

[wordstome]

COD Men as Dream Daddy DILFs

Call of Duty single dads x gn!single parent reader

⤐Characters: 141 + König + Horangi + Keegan

⤐Premise: You just moved into a neighborhood with a high population of retired military personnel.

*glances at my 3-4 wips* let's talk about some dilfs, shall we? ...Don't look at me. I had a vision. (No relation to the actual characters from Dream Daddy, just a similar premise) Also a disclaimer: I'm writing these dads mostly in their late 30s to 40s, but don't think about their ages and the ages of their kids too much. This is all vibes. And sorry ahead of time if I gave one of the kids the same name as you 💀 Feel free to imagine the kid has a different name because the names really don't matter

p.s. I wanted to write more characters but I had to reel myself in. I could be persuaded to write a part 2 with Vaqueros, Nikolai, Valeria, Nikto, and other Ghosts tbh

Warning: this shit is LENGTHY. Strap yourself in.

Price: A post about DILFs and you expect me not to start with Captain John Price? Price is the lynchpin of this cul de sac. He's the one inviting everyone over to the barbecue, tries to get the dads to get along, and gives everyone advice. He has the quintessential dad energy. He 100% slaps his knees and says "well!" when he gets up. Price also has major girl dad energy. He's got three adorable little ladies, aged 3 (Clara), 9 (Brianna), and 11 (Alice). Yes, he did name his daughters in ABC order, I can see him doing that. Oh, he dotes on his girls, and they love their dad endlessly. He's the model father: recitals, sports, parent teacher conferences, you name it, he's there.

That's how the two of you meet: he comes up to you at one of the aforementioned events and gives you a firm handshake and apologizes profusely for not coming around to introduce himself earlier. It's not like him not to at least swing by, and he hopes you can forgive him the discourtesy. He hands you his number and says anything you need, just give him a call, or maybe swing by for a beer sometime. He gives you a wink that makes your knees weak, a wink that says he definitely noticed you checking out his muscled arms and broad shoulders. Maybe you will swing by for that beer sometime—and maybe get a little more than just a drink.

Ghost: I could see Simon having a one night stand kid. He certainly never saw himself starting a family after he lost his last one, but he was stressed and probably piss drunk as well. Years and years later, he's back from deployment and finds a social worker with a boy on his doorstep, and the rest is history. I love the idea of Simon with a moody 16 year old, but I actually see Simon and his son having the same dynamic as Mike and Abby Schmidt from the FNAF movie. Since Simon wasn't around for Caden's early childhood, they have a relationship that's undeniably father and son, but leaning towards casual and sibling-like. Simon's figuring his shit out, dealing with his PTSD and the various lasting health issues his time in special forces has left him with, and Caden's a quiet, sensitive 10 year old boy who thinks the world of his dad.

You meet Simon at the local bar. His Ghost days are long behind him, but the balaclava's a hard habit to kick. Besides, he doesn't need people staring at his scars. He's usually there with the 141, but today he's alone, and looks like he could use some company. You sit up at the bar close to him and order a drink, but you don't disturb him, and he visibly relaxes when he realizes you're not going to try to make small talk. It becomes a routine, the two of you: always sharing a quiet drink together at the bar, and then both of you wordlessly go home to your kids. You have a sort of silent conversation every time: Good to see you again. Yeah, you too. Neither of you actually speak a word to the other until Price introduces you to him at a gathering, and you finally hear his voice. "We've met before," he says, with a glint in his eye that suggests perhaps he'd like to be more than just a silent drinking buddy. That's fine with you: you're dying to see what's under the mask and dark hoodie.

Soap: JOCK ALERT. Johnny's basically Craig from Dream Daddy: total dreamboat who goes on runs around the neighborhood and gets all the appreciative looks from the local moms. He thrives on the attention in a way that definitely makes the 141 roll their eyes. He's got an older little girl named Elodie, and a lil baby boy Thomas that he takes everywhere with him. Obviously he's just being a responsible parent taking care of an infant, but secretly, Thomas is a great conversation starter with aforementioned local moms.

Conversely however, it's Johnny who makes the move on you first. Maybe in the grocery store, maybe at one of Price's get-togethers. Sidles up to you and introduces himself with a look in his eye that means trouble. Only the good kind of trouble, of course. If you reciprocate and he finds out you're single, you're not getting rid of him. But why would you want to, anyway? He's endlessly charming, attentive, and good with his hands. When he's fixing a leaky tap for you, of course—what did you think I meant?

Gaz: Kyle "Gaz" Garrick is a fucking heartthrob. I'm saying it right here, right now. He's a walks in with flowers, makes you dinner kind of partner. Also househusband vibes, because, surprise: Kyle is still married. This isn't a Joseph (Dream Daddy) situation, though: he and his wife, Emily, have known each other for a long time, a very high school sweethearts situation. Over the years, though, they drifted apart with Kyle in the military, and Emily eventually realized she's not actually into men. They're still married for coparenting purposes: they've got an older teenage girl named Violet, and a younger boy named Elliott. (Yes, I'm naming him after Elliot Knight, sue me.)

Honestly, I think it would be HILARIOUS if you met Kyle on a dating app and realized he's your next-door neighbor. But however you guys meet, Kyle is an old-school courter kind of guy. He is taking you on dinner dates, listening to you rant about your day, and is on your doorstep in a heartbeat when you call him in a panic because your kid's running a 105 fever (41 in Celsius) and you need a ride to the emergency room. (Not that the other dads wouldn't do the same, but I'm trying to convey "most reliable man in the world" vibes here.)

König: Y'all...you don't know how much fucken time I've spent thinking about this man as a dad. He's in the same boat as Ghost where he never saw himself living long enough to start a family, but here he is with the most precious little girl you've ever laid eyes on. Ava's got her father's curly hair and big green eyes, and she has her dad wrapped around her pinky finger. For König, Ava is living proof that he's capable of being more than just a tool for violence.

You meet König through Ava, of course. Your kids are the closest of friends, and the two of them are constantly going over to each other's houses. You're obviously delighted that your kid is making new friends and fitting in so well, but you'd be lying if your heart didn't skip a beat whenever you open your door to see Ava's six foot ten dad standing there with soft eyes and a sheepish smile. I have to stop here, because I've already written an extra paragraph for this man that I've cut out and pasted for safekeeping in my notes app, and if encouraged I will write more. (Please encourage me.)

Horangi: I know we already had a sort of Robert (Dream Daddy) figure with Ghost, but I think Horangi is a dad whose kid is an adult, much like Robert and Val. I also think that out of all the dads, Horangi is likely the one who's still doing some level of military work. Either that, or he has a very demanding job that takes up a lot of his time. He's ashamed of the way he let his gambling affect his family in the past, and is making up for it by being responsible and keeping his finances in order.

You don't meet him until you've lived in the neighborhood for quite a while, but he pops up at a gathering, talking quietly with König in a corner. You'd thought you had met every neighbor in the cul de sac, so you're intrigued by the newcomer. Someone, probably Price, tells you what Hong-jin's deal is, and ever since that you just can't keep your eyes off of him. You can't quite work up the nerve to talk to him, so you occupy yourself talking with the other parents. Some time later, you're at the food table grazing on the snacks when you look up and make eye contact with him. There's something intense in his gaze that makes you freeze, like a deer in headlights. He's definitely checking you out, you think. Your chest erupts into nervous butterflies when he starts walking towards you.

Keegan: Keegan is an adoptive father! I love his dynamic with the Walker boys, so I can see him being the kind of guy who adopts an older teenager so they have a home and a family instead of aging out of the system. Jason and Cecelia are high school age siblings who would have been separated otherwise, and consider Keegan their dad in every way that's important.

I think you and Keegan are definitely rivals in some way. Maybe it's a PTO thing, maybe he gets a little too boisterous at your kids' sports game. Whatever it is, you can't stand the man, but your annoyance whenever he's around only seems to amuse him. You have no problem saying to his face exactly what you think about him, but unfortunately, Keegan can see right through you. And hey, Cecelia could use some experience as a babysitter, so you won't have to worry about spending the night over at his place, will you?

As always, I wanna hear peoples' thoughts and feedback! If you want to hear more about these dads, drop me an ask <3

[prettyboykatsuki]

✮  tags ; top + gn!reader (no desc of parts but reader is fucking him), unabashed daddy kink, implied verse, small age gap, bottom megumi, petnames (boy, baby) thorough discussion of megumis daddy issues in exactly the direction you think, 18+

✮ wc ; 1.3k

✮  a/n ; i haven't slept . im not responsible for anything. will not be taking questions at this time. 🫡

He's the prettiest thing you've ever seen in your life.

You tell him as much. He pretends to hate hearing it. Soft features bend at hard angles to convincingly drive in the fact that he detests it. Megumi is always like that. For the years you've known him - anything he's at risk of playing his hand too quickly, he retracts. You think that's why you're so addicted to getting him to let go.

He scowls, has the signature Zenin mean mug that almost makes the whole schtick convincing. You know better though. Maybe because you've known him since highschool, or maybe because you simply find him easy to read.

You've never met someone so touchstarved or so delicate all while being so, so mean. There's a lot Megumi can do but he's shit at hiding when something bothers him. When he's irritated, he's petulant and when he's pleased - you'd almost describe him as docile. In his own way. In the way a dog who used to cage fight could be.

You have an interesting relationship to Megumi. You're a stray just like him - with your family being a Zenin lapdog and you being their black sheep. You have a lot to relate on, but Megumi finds your attitude grating. Finds the harshness of your personality difficult, and finds the finesse you have for slaughter and violence to be nauseating.

It's probably why he makes wide, wet eyes at you whenever you're alone. Closest thing he has to someone he can depend on with more experience. You're quick to appraise his work when you go on trips together. Despite your acting smug and Megumis frustration about your attitude, he soaks up the praise like a pretty little sponge. He's only a few years younger than you though, despite how he acts.

(Sometimes you think he wants the gap to be a little wider. )

A cute kid, only two years younger than you. Soft, striking green eyes. Soft lips. A mean little glare and spiky mop of black hair to compliment pale, cream colored skin. Megumi blushes easy, bruises even easier. His knees and elbows are a pretty cherry-blossom pink like something out of a movie scene.

The first time you fuck Megumi, its mostly because you're drunk and interested. It'd be stupid to not be interested in a face so pretty and desperate for approval.

All times after that are false happenstance. You make a routine of it - a silent game that makes it look like you're coercing him so he doesn't have to accept his own wants with any seriousness. You're cool with the ambiguity cause you're a little sick in the head. It's enough to fuck him, and sometimes when you're generous - to have him fuck you.

Megumi is pretty when he's being fucked. He changes his tune fast when his dick is a little hard and his guard is down - never thought that bratty little fucker could whine like he's in heat until you pulled the sounds out of his mouth yourself.

You always reaffirm how much he loves attention and praise and pampering when you fuck Megumi. He likes when you appraise him like that too. Soft compliments about his pretty little hole and the tightness of his waist. You manage it with relative ease. Makes your whole core throb just to see how much he twitches over something so slight and so easy. Such a mean fucking kid - such a brat, all welled up anger and abandonment issue.

Sometimes you wanna make him cry from him pain.

But most times, like now - you offer Megumi sweet pleasure. Give him that gentle, doting authority that he seems to fiend for. Desperate for reprieve in a way that stains his face, despite his attempts to brush it off.

Megumi takes dick like he was born for it. Slender fingers grip at your waist and claw at your back like he wants to rip you in half - tear you limb from limb but his legs wrap around your waist like he'd die if you left him for one fucking second. Megumi likes being full, you think. And he likes more when you praise him for taking your cock with such ease.

It's not rocket science to figure out he has some issues with authority. That distant relationship with his sensei and absent father make it obvious that he never wants to let anyone get too close. He could never really entertain certain relationships, he could never actually ask for approval. It's too little, too late.

Still, it surprises you a little when you first hear him say daddy. Not a lot, but enough that you pause in mid-thrust to stare at him a bit. He's mortified at the realization.

But you're not much less of a scumbag you figure, than all the figures in his life. You nod instead, feel arousal spark up in your stomach and claw it's way into your throat as you fuck him even harder.

("Daddy, huh?" You laugh because it's funny and you think the feeling of being so turned on you pass out is inappropriate. "Sure, baby. I'll be your daddy if you want." )

He doesn't say shit to you about it afterwards. Can barely look you in the during your post-sex aftercare and chat - though that conversation is never particularly romantic. You think the whole thing makes him want to die, so you don't really bring it up outside of a knowing look.

But it happens more often than that. Like a dam breaking, something slips and now Megumi can't close it despite how desperately he seems to want too. It's not even that you're particularly into it at the start.

But well, he's pretty. Prettiest little thing you've ever seen in your life, even though he's tall and strong. He's got this grace that overwhelms you into fucking him dumb whenever you can. Try as you might, you will is not strong enough to not lust over someone like him calling you daddy. That level of unprecedented whining, the affection, the need in such an embarrassing word makes your feel so horny you can barely think.

So, it doesn't particularly surprise you when Megumi calls you daddy. Not anymore.

He's weepy in the face, somewhere in the distance - and he's still wearing his pajamas when you come see him. The scene is uncomfortably domestic between two people who aren't dating, but you don't really care either way. Megumi is pretty everywhere, but he's especially needy getting fucked on his kitchen counter sitting up to cling to you.

His arms around your shoulders, face drawn together with shameless embrassed. His cock is twitchy, leaking against the flat plane of his stomach with unbridled enthusiasm. He says it in a whisper today which you can't help but find cute.

It's raw in the back of his throat, mildly gravelly as his nails dig into your shoulders with an enthusiastic whine. "Daddy. Fuck, please, can't."

"What's daddy's boy want huh?" You say, obviously mocking - a hand wrapped around shaft with a thumb over his slit. Megumi shivers. Lets out a shameful moan at the word boy that makes you laugh hard, makes your head spin dizzy with lust.

"Wanna cum," He says, but doesn't beg. Doesn't know how and couldn't figure it out if you paid him. You've spoiled him rotten after all. Filthy, really but he's prettier when he's acting precious. At least to you. "Make me cum, daddy please."

"Really milking it today, huh boy?" You chuckle and all he does is whimper. "Okay, okay. So fucking needy. Go on and cum, baby. Cum for daddy."

Megumi lets out a whine. A sound you barely knew he had in him as you say it that time and you laugh again and again as you bottom out. You watch him squirm as he finally finishes, back arching off the counter as the pleasure runs through him.

His face is still hazy when he comes down. Still beautiful in that way that makes you want to fuck him stupid and indulge for the rest of your life.

"Feel good, baby?"

He blushes faint and doesn't bother pushing you away. "Mm."

[we-are-not-a-number]

Tdlr; Rates of violence and homocides against older women (notable grandmothers) rising, a dual issue of children of and partners being domestically abusive, most notably sons. Mothers are less likely to call authorities on their own children for domestic violence or threats, which impacts this grizzly development. Warned "matricide of older women" and lack of awareness. Article from Australia but this issue is stated to be global.

Fourteen women over the age of 55 were allegedly killed in domestic violence-related homicides last year, according to a tally kept by the online feminist group Destroy the Joint. When the Australian Bureau of Statistics releases its data for the year, this number could well increase.

In 2023, according to ABS data, there were 28 women over the age of 55 allegedly killed in domestic violence related homicides, roughly a third of all such alleged homicides. Experts have called it a “silent crisis”: older women who are killed by family violence but whose deaths rarely get as much attention as those of younger women, and whose experiences do not figure sufficiently in government responses to violence against women. “There’s a matricide of older women [and] people aren’t even noticing, there’s no outcry. There’s silence,” says Catherine Barrett, director of Celebrate Ageing. “It’s just being missed.”

A Guardian analysis of government data has found that in the 10 years to 2023, nearly 200 women over the age of 55 were allegedly killed in family violence related homicides, suggesting older women could be at dual risk – from partners and from their children, especially their sons.

The rate of alleged domestic homicides in Australia has more than halved in the past 30 years, from 0.71 deaths per 100,000 in 1992-93, to 0.3 deaths per 100,000 in 2022-23. However, the rate at which older women are allegedly killed in domestic homicides has not fallen consistently. In the past 10 years, the rate of women aged over 55 killed in family violence homicides has reached 0.7 deaths per 100,000 (the same rate for all women 30 years ago) three times – in 2017, 2018 and 2023.

The problem is a global one. In England and Wales, the number of women killed by sons has risen since 2016, after remaining stable for decades. There was also a rise in the number of grandmothers killed by their grandsons, according to the Femicide Census, co-founded by Clarrie O’Callaghan and Karen Ingala Smith.

Lee says that while every family violence homicide is a tragedy, some deaths are given more attention than others, with the media and general public often focusing on the deaths of younger, attractive white women, while the deaths of “women who are marginalised … don’t get highlighted��. “The invisibility and the marginalisation of First Nations women [and] older women means that they remain invisible even when they’re killed.”

One of the main factors, Lee says, is that domestic violence is often considered primarily a problem for younger women so services are often geared towards them. That means older women may not see a family violence service as one that can help them.

“When we talk about violence against women, it’s always a younger woman fleeing with two little kids hanging around her knees. You rarely see any commentary about all the women who grow old with violence, who live with, maybe, sons who are violent. They are really invisible.”

Barrett says sometimes, after a violent relationship breaks down between a man and his partner, the man will move back in with his parents – particularly if he has mental health or addiction problems – and continue to perpetrate violence there. The problem has only increased, she says, in light of the cost-of-living crisis.

“The mothers are not reporting their sons … because this is their son, and it’s shame on the family, and they’re worried about his mental health. “We’ve got this perfect storm, which is: a cost-of-living crisis, a mental health crisis, sons moving in with their mothers, and no one’s talking to mum, or she doesn’t see a service that could actually help.” What’s needed, say both Lee and Barrett, is a life stages approach that addresses the different ways family violence can affect older women.

[goldblumluv]

domestic hugh when you’re sad

summary: you’re feeling sad about family issues (self insert). fluff. established relationship. context is you’ve had a tricky relationship with your dad and he’s passed plus a mix of guilt for not seeing people on his side of the family, when honestly they’re not your favourite people.

I’m 3 months in a grief journey so I’m not as sad but I will have a sad day every now and again and rn I am in one (but I know it’ll be better tomorrow)

wc: 628

You’re both sat upright on the bed. You’re covering your eyes as you cry and try to speak. You find it so much easier to speak covering your face and Hugh doesn’t laugh or try to pull your hands from your face, at least until you get in the swing of things. You still find it difficult to verbalise what you feel so he’s patient. You’re sat on your feet and he is sat normally, leaning forward looking at you with one hand on your knee, giving reassuring rubs on your thigh.

“I’ve been doing pretty well so having a bad day feels… really big” “it’s not though, I still have days when all I think about is my dad- *you’re taking deep breaths, just trying to regulate yourself* please will you look at me?” “I look ugly” you say through tears. Hugh chuckles and tells you shut up. “Will I ever be okay?” You say as you look in his eyes. He’s so attentive. Speaking that thought out loud is really scary and earnest. “No… but you’ll get to a point where the bad days will be years apart and then it doesn’t feel so hard to carry. We’ll do it together”

He grabs the back of your neck to press you a forehead kiss. He puts his arm in between the fold of your thigh and calf and pulls you on top of him. He is holding you almost like a baby. It’s ironic. A man more than double your age is cradling you like a child as you talk about your dead dad. Talk about daddy issues. This makes you smile slightly as it does feel nice. Protected. Warm. That is really you two against the world. You just lean into his neck, silently crying through this. He doesn’t offer much to say, only in response to what I directly say. But dealing with grief is hard and there’s not a lot to be said. Only that someone’s going do it with you. He is 3 years in grief whereas you’re only 3 months. He just rubs your legs reassuringly. He mutters an “it’s okay” every now and then. It means a lot to you him saying it’s okay. You feel a lot of shame when crying, which possibly is a childhood trauma. So him just allowing you to be sad and cry is enough. “It’s still fresh and you need to give yourself grace but you’re coping so well”

“I obviously appreciate everything you do, and my friends, but it’s both of you are my safe space and not my family.” “I’m sorry for how you grew up. But isn’t it beautiful you found that connection in other people” “I know” He also relates to this. He found his family and gone to therapy to resolve any family issues. “I think finding your people is the best, and I know the normal is your people should be your family.. but you’re not normal y/n” He is trying to make light, so I laugh, and I do. “I am” You feel too weak to a playful slap, so you just put one hand to his stomach. “All your friends have chosen to love you when they have no obligation to do so” “what about you?” “I think love is strong” You know he’s joking, but you play into it and lift your head. Your swollen red eyes. Your skin is starting to dry from the salt in your tears. You drop your mouth in shock- a fake shock. He laughs at your face. He uses his hand to wipe under your eyes. “Of course I love you, I love you when you’re happy and when you’re dripping with snot” You immediately sniff and smile “Thanks”

[socialistexan]

Questions for people who oppose gender affirming care for minors, we'll touch on adults later.

"A child can not consent to life changing surgery."

That's true, children can't - and honestly shouldn't be able to - consent to a lot of things. However, medical consent is a very different beast, this consent is gotten from their legal guardian, not the child.

Putting aside that while surgery for a trans minor does happen it is extremely rare, why is this standard only applied trans children and their medical care?

Do you think the 3200 cigender girls ages 13 to 19 who received a breast enhancement in 2020 gave the proper consent? Do you believe the 4700 cis girls in the same age group and time who received breast reduction in 2020 should be barred from that treatment? Why is 230 trans kids receiving a gender affirming surgery not okay, but the others are?

Can a minor consent to any surgery at all? Like, say, knee surgery which has a much higher regret rate than Gender Affirming surgery?

"Puberty Blockers and Hormone Replacement Therapy can have lifelong medical effects!"

So can any medication.

Should children be able to receive chemo? That has lifelong effects. Pain killers, those can be addictive and put your body, especially a child's body, under extreme stress, should children receive that care? Should a child receive psychiatric medication, those absolutely have side effects that could be long lasting? Tylenol can cause stomach bleeds that can have life long effects, should they receive that medication?

I'm allergic to penicillin, does that mean penicillin should be pulled from the shelves? It saves millions of people's lives, but it could kill me, so why would you legislate access away from the millions to accommodate the exception, me?

"What about detransitioners? What if they regret it? What if they realize they haven't

It's terrible that sometimes this happens. It is extraordinarily rare in an already small population, but it does happen. We should love and respect and give support to detransitioners, they have gone through medical trauma and a personal journey that few can relate to. It is awful they have to deal with the potential affects of treatment that they later regreted.

But trans people who went through the wrong puberty also experience these exact issues. Trans women who went through male puberty have deeper voices and all the same issues that a detransitioned cis woman who underwent HRT. And adult trans women who underwent male puberty had no say in whether they went through that, while a detransitioners at least had the opportunity to make a choice. Why do you have sympathy for one of those kinds of women and not the other?

Also, doctors sometimes get things wrong in any kind of medical treatment. Misdiagnosis happens, incorrect treatment happens. Sometimes a doctor is just plain bad or greedy. Does that mean you throw out all access to a form of medical treatment just for a few mistakes and improper treatment?

[dancingtotuyo]

10. hold you from the world and it's curse

Woman | Joel Miller X Female Reader

Rating: Mature/Explicit

Chapter Summary: You begin to come to terms with things. Ellie struggles with the limits of her immunity.

Tags: Joel Miller X Female Reader. Age Gap (13/14 years). HBO Characters. Mostly cannon compliant for show & game. Timeline is changed.

Chapter Warnings: pregnancy related things, angst, hurt & comfort, self worth issues, Character Death, references to canon violence and gore, talk about guns & shooting people (mercifully), lots of grief, anger,

Notes: huge thank you to my constants, my rocks @ramblers-lets-get-ramblinand @janaispunk for beta reading and letting me yell and scream and break their hearts.

If you have checked out Before, I would encourage you to do so for more backstory on our dear reader! The final part is out now!

Words: 4933

Series Masterlist | Author Masterlist | Playlist

When Maria was pregnant, she unashamedly let her bump grow in front of the gaze of the town. It came on with the winter months but she kept her coats unbuttoned and off while inside. She was excited, cherishing it all, marking and sharing milestones as she could. You don’t do any of it. You keep your bulky coats zipped and make sure your layers disguise your growing abdomen. 

It’s not a secret by any means, but you know even in the tight-knit community of Jackson there are still people who don’t know as you approach your 23rd week of pregnancy, even if you feel twice as large at this stage as you did during your first pregnancy. It’s been getting easier to keep the layers on as the temperature falls and Christmas approaches.

But it’s only a few days from Christmas, and there’s a dance. You’ve fallen in love with the dances again.  While it’s a relatively casual event as everything in Jackson is, you’re not prancing in there in your worn leggings and layered jacket. The body heat flowing between the dancing bodies is more than enough without your layer. With the extra heat you’re producing on your own, you’re sure you’d pass out in 20 minutes. 

You have one option: the dress with quarter-length sleeves and a skirt that hits your knees. You basically lived in that dress when pregnant with Carter, but it accentuates your condition. That’s the last thing you’re ready for, the stares, the questions, the congratulations. You feel a vein of guilt rush through you. You shouldn’t dread people congratulating you on this. 

You rest your hand on top of your swollen stomach. You’re starting to feel the baby move more often. It’s just as weird as it was with Carter, but it still sends a little thrill through you each time. 

Joel walks out of the bathroom to find you sitting on the bed in his sweatshirt staring at the closet like a monster might come barreling out at any given moment.  “Sweetheart,” he says. “It’s almost time to go.” 

You bite at your thumbnail, the closet mocking you. It’s just a dress. Why does it feel like so much more? “We don’t have to go. Let’s just stay in.”

“After you bribed Morgan with heaven and earth to watch Carter?” He crosses his arms, eyebrows raised.

“We could just stay here? Do other things.” You shoot him a suggestive wink. 

Joel seems to consider it for a moment. He surprisingly enjoys the dances. There’s something about the semblance of normalcy, and the night he kissed you in front of the whole town is a fond memory, but he likes being alone with you more. He sees through it though. You’re avoiding something.

Easing next to you, his shoulder brushes yours. He gazes at your profile as you keep your eyes pinned to the closet door. His fingertips brush along your cheek rounding behind your ear. “What’s actually buggin you?” 

Chewing your lip, you finally meet his gaze, unshed tears shimmering in your eyes. “If I put on that dress, everyone is gonna know.”

He sighs, arm wrapping around your shoulders. You lean into him, your heart rate slowing. “We can’t avoid it forever.”

“I know. I just thought I could for longer.”

“Baby, you’re over halfway there,” Joel cracks a smile. “And I promise that most of the town already knows.”

“Yeah, but they don’t officially know.” 

Joel wraps his arm around you, letting his hand fall over the one that rests on your bump. “We have to face it sooner or later. Maybe even embrace it?” He kisses your temple. He manages to pull a slight smile from your lips.

He rubs your arm softly as your head eases to his shoulder. “I’d really like to spin you around that dance floor, kiss ya for everyone to see. We don’t have to go for long, but I think you’ll feel better.”

You inhale deeply, nodding softly. “Help me up. I’ll get dressed.”

“Now I know you’re not that pregnant.” He grins, standing before you and pulling you to your feet anyway. 

You laugh, arms wrapping around his shoulders. You sway, pressed against him for a few seconds. Your lips press against his and then he’s pressing against your hips, directing you toward the closet. “Get dressed, Sweetheart.”

He kisses your head and slips out of the bedroom. You steady yourself with a deep breath before finally opening the closet. You can do this. 

Carter is sitting on Joel’s lap as he reads him a book. Morgan preps a light snack in the kitchen. You haven’t worn a dress in ages. This is the only one you own. You traded the others ages ago. 

Carter sees you first, letting out a soft gasp. “Mommy, you look so pretty!”

Joel’s head snaps up, the book lowering in front of him. Carter jumps off Joel’s lap, rushing toward you. You laugh, going to your knee to accept his hug. He’s still small enough for you to pick up and spin around, squeezing him tightly too you. He laughs as you pepper his cheek with kisses. “You’re gonna listen to Miss Morgan, right?” You stare right into his eyes, keeping him at eye level with you.

Carter nods with a great solemness. His big eyes sparkle in the light, his nose pressed to yours. His bright eyes are so close to yours, so reminiscent of Gabe’s. It sends a soft ache through you that he doesn’t get to be here for these moments. “Daddy already made me promise.” 

“Did he?” A grin captures your lips as you glance over to Joel.

Joel rises from the couch with a chuckle, adjusting his jeans over his hips. 

“Mhmm,” Carter says, kissing your nose before he slides to the ground. He rushes off toward the kitchen. “Miss Morgan? Is my snack ready?”

Joel laughs, watching the child disappear before sliding his arms around your midsection. “You look beautiful, but that’s nothing new.”

Heat floods your cheeks. Once again you’re smiling like a flustered schoolgirl. “You gonna take me out, Miller?”

“Tempted to take you upstairs.” He winks. His hands travel down your back to your ass. No underwear lines, just as he expected to find. One of these days he’s going to figure out what you have against the damn garment. The last thing he needs to know is that you’re bare under the skirt, that when he spins you around tonight and your skirt spins you’ll feel the air moving against you.

You let out a laugh, pushing against his shoulders. “Too late for that, Miller. I put on the dress. We’re going.” You head toward the kitchen. 

Joel lets out a groan trailing behind you. You give Morgan a few instructions, but she’s familiar with the routine by now. “I love you,” You kiss Carter’s cheek as he eats at the table. “Mommy and Daddy will be back after you go to sleep.”

“I know.” Carter grins proudly, face scrunching up slightly. “Love you, Mommy.”

Joel leans down, kissing Carter’s other cheek. “You behave.”

Carter cheese again, kissing both your cheeks in quick succession. “Love you, Daddy.”

“Love you too, bud.” He chuckles softly. 

Joel pushes you toward the door, helping you into your warmest coat before you can find a way to stall. Your legs freeze on the way to the Tipsy Bison, cool air shooting right up your skirt. This might be the first time you’ve regretted your commitment to not wearing underwear. 

Joel’s hand stays pressed to your back on the short walk over as if he’s trying to keep you from making a break to the safety of your home but The Tipsy Bison welcomes you in with warmth and vibrance, drowning out all your fears. When Joel helps you out of your coat, something amazing happens. The world keeps spinning. People go about their evening, seemingly oblivious to your arrival and your announcement. Throughout the night, you get a few stares and a few congratulations, you take them all with grace. 

After exhausting you on the dance floor, your stamina not what it was thanks to your pregnancy, Joel guides you toward a back corner. Chairs line the wall but few people mill about on the outskirts. 

“I’ll go get you some water,” Joel says, kissing your warm cheeks. 

You smile at him as he weaves through the throngs of people. Before you can sit down, you catch sight of Ellie further down the line of chairs. She watches, arms resting on her knees, the cheer of the night like an outsider looking in, the rush and thrill of the night ineffective against her armor. 

You tilt your head to the side before approaching. You ease beside her, letting out a soft sigh. You hook your foot under the legs of a stray chair to pull it closer so you have a place to prop your feet. Ellie doesn’t acknowledge you. She makes no movements that indicate she’s even aware of your presence. 

You follow her line of sight to the opposing corner. Dina and Jesse are flirting like all of Jackson doesn’t have eyes. Cat rolls her eyes at something Chris Lamer says to her, a playful insult likely rolling off her lips. The sight brings a smile to your lips. At least within these walls, they can act like teenagers.

“You’re not feeling very social tonight?”

Ellie lets out a sigh, falling back in her chair. She shoves her hair behind her shoulder. It’s getting longer than you’ve ever seen it. She shrugs. “Just not feeling it tonight.”

“Wish I’d known that before I bribed Morgan to watch Carter.” You offer a teasing grin. She doesn’t return it, crossing her arms over her chest as she shifts in her seat. Your brow furrows. “What’s up, Ellie?”

She bristles, taking her time to find words. “You look nice tonight.”

“You’re deflecting.”

“People do that when they don’t wanna talk about things.”

“Which usually means they should talk about things.”

She glances over at you, unamused. You smile back, but she doesn’t say a word, letting her eyes fall back over to her friends. 

“You know,” you say. “I didn’t want to come tonight.”

She looks surprised. “You and Joel love these things.”

“Yeah…” You nod, eyes scanning over the crowd. “But I can’t really hide this anymore.” You motion to your swollen abdomen. “Especially not in this dress. Which is about the only thing that fits me now.”

Her eyes flicker over to you, landing on your bump. You catch something in her eyes. “I thought you’d gotten used to it.”

“Don’t know that that’ll ever happen,” you sigh. 

“Even with Joel moving in?” 

That’s when it clicks. The changes. You should’ve known, or guessed. Joel brought the last of his things over last week. Ellie decided early on to stay in Joel’s house, or her house now. 

“Ellie, if you’ve changed your mind-”

“No,” she cuts you off. “I haven’t- at least I don’t think I have.” She bites her lip, frame ridgid. “Guess I didn’t think it would feel any different. He basically lived over there already.”

“But his things are gone now.”

Her eyes snap to yours like you’ve hit the nail on the head. Her eyes look shiny under the Christmas lights strung from the rafters. She blinks a couple times. 

“I didn’t think I’d miss that damn owl mug so much. I used to hate the way its eyes followed me when I was in the kitchen.”

A laugh tips out of your mouth. “Glad to hear it. I’ll smuggle it back over to you.”

Ellie’s head shakes, a smile pushing against the edges of her face. “Hell no. I said I missed it, not that I wanted it back in my house.”

The two of you laugh together until a comfortable silence forms between you. You feel like there might be another layer, but you’ve pushed as much as you can tonight surrounded by people. She’s smiling, the tension gone from her body, and that’s the most important thing right now. 

“Change is hard.” Ellie says. 

“So damn hard.” You agree. “Don’t make yourself a stranger, okay? I know you’re like kind of an adult in this world and a certified homeowner now.” You wink at her and she laughs with a shake of her head. “But we still want you around as much as we did. Really even more.”

“So you’re not tired of me?” she asks. She’s joking, but you catch the hint of a real question, that soft need for assurance.

Your arm wraps around her shoulders, tugging her close. “Never. I mean, who else is gonna talk to Carter about space. That shit goes right over my head.” She laughs, head falling onto your shoulder. “But in all seriousness, I don’t think I’d ever get tired of you, Ellie. You’re my family.”

“Guess I’m not very good at this family stuff.”

“We’re all still learning.” 

She nods softly, waiting just a few seconds before pulling away. She looks better, lighter. Her eyes land over on her group of friends, seemingly glued to one particular female. You look between them, a knowing grin on your face. “You know, I think she’d say yes if you asked her to dance.” 

Ellie’s eyes snap to you, confusion dancing in them. 

“I’ve known you for years, my dear. You can’t hide much from me.” 

She bites her lip as Joel finally materializes out of the crowd with your water in hand. “Sorry it took me so long. Adam was trying to rope me into trouble.”

You raise an eyebrow suspiciously. 

“Stayed out of it. Cross my heart, darlin.” He leans down to kiss your cheek. 

“You two are gross.” Ellie teases as she stands, stretching her arms above her head. 

“Promise I can make it even grosser.” Joel chuckles, easing into the chair next to you.

“That’s not even a word.” You roll your eyes, swatting him away from you. He only laughs more, arm settling across the back of your chair, finger tips twisting and turning lightly across your shoulder. 

“As much as I’d hate to see that,” Ellie says, taking a step back. She’s returned to her usual, playful self. “I’m going to join my friends.” With that, she dashes off. 

You and Joel talk in hushed tones, playful flirting firing between you. He’s distracting you, definitely trying to seduce you, and it’s working. As he pulls you through the crowd, you’re surprised to see Ellie dancing with Cat. 

You’re in the clinic the next afternoon when she bursts in looking wide eyed and terrified. She reminds you of the 14 year old you met two and half years ago. Your heart drops to your stomach. She was on patrol. They weren’t due back until tomorrow. 

“Ellie, what-”

She collides with your chest, sobs shaking her small frame. Your arms fly around her, holding her close. Your brain wracks through names and faces. Who was she with? Who did your community lose this time? But your brain won’t work, can’t piece together who you’ve seen today tucked within the safety of the clinic and who you haven’t. 

Eventually, she pulls away, eye red and swollen, cheeks flushed from crying and wind chapped. She doesn’t look any closer to sanity than when she walked in. Her eyes search frantically about. 

“Ellie,” you say firmly, trying to capture her attention. She doesn’t seem to notice, slipping through your fingers when you attempt to grab her shoulders. 

She scrounges through a bin until she feels the cool metal of scissors. The metal flashes in the clinic lights. She slams them down on the counter. “Cut it.”

“Cut what?” You’re confused and worried, your mind spinning as you’re still trying to process who was lost today, two days before Christmas. “Ellie-”

“My hair!” Tears stream down her hair. “I should’ve never let it get this long- I don’t even like it- and now-” Another sob breaks through, her voice cracking. 

You pull her back into your arms. She fights against you. “Please, just cut it off!” She’s desperate, barely hanging on. “I want it gone.”

“Okay.” You say. “Okay. Sit down.” 

She plops onto the nearest chair, eyes fixed on the letters of the eye chart straight ahead. It’s silent, nothing except the snip of the sheers. You could hear a pin drop, can hear her long tresses drop to the floor. You take it to her shoulders, about where it was when you first met her. This isn’t the first time you’ve cut her hair, but it feels like the most impactful. 

“Shorter.” She says.

You place your fingers midway between her shoulders and earlobes. She shakes her head. You move a little further up and still another shake of her head. You repeat it until your fingers are right under her earlobes. Finally, you get a nod. 

You hand her a hand mirror when you’re finished. She looks it over. It suits her, you think, makes her look older. 

“Thanks.”

“Ellie?”

She hears the question in your voice, knows what you’re asking. She’s not sure if she can manage the words to describe the pictures looping through her mind. 

“We ran into a couple infected. Got most of them except for one. I- my hair got caught on a bush.”

She holds eye contact with your reflection in the mirror. She shakes her head, the tears return. “I told Chris to go. I could handle it.”

You shudder. These are always hard, no remains to bring home, very little closure. You know first hand what it’s like, but losing teenagers on patrol is the hardest, losing someone Ellie’s age brings the danger too close.

“He came back. Put his arm in front of its mouth when it went to bite me.”

“Fuck…” it’s out of your mouth before your brain catches up. 

“I told him to leave me. I had my knife. I would’ve been fine.” It's barely a whisper, her hands shake.

“Ellie.” You reach out to take the mirror from her but she slams it to the ground. It shatters. 

“I would’ve been fine!” Her body shakes with all the rage it can hold, angry tears stream down her cheeks. “I had to shoot him! I would’ve been fine, but now he’s dead instead!”

You pull her into you. She tries to fight it, but you don’t let go this time, not until her tears dry up and her body stops shaking. When she pulls back, you cup her cheeks. Her voice is hoarse, scratching her throat until she settles for a whisper. “I have to do something. This can’t keep happening.”

“Ellie, it’s not your fault.”

“I think it is this time.”

Your heart breaks for her, because you see the determination set in her eyes. She’s convinced and there’s not a single thing you can say or do to change her mind. 

“I could fix this. I could save people! What’s the point of everything? Why was I made immune? To watch everyone get infected and die around me?!”

“What happened to Chris wasn’t your fault.”

“He tried to save me because he thought I needed it! And then I had to put a bullet in his head. There was no reason!”

“You didn’t kill him. Cordyceps did.”

“Are you sure? Or is that just what you tell yourself so you don’t get mad at Maria for killing your husband?”

Your breath catches in your chest. You know she doesn’t mean it, but it stings. It digs deep. You had blamed her at one point, spat the words in her face, but you push it away. You apologized. She granted forgiveness. You don’t blame her anymore. 

Her eyes burn with a rage you’ve never seen. You see the guilt weighing on her. You’re not sure she’ll be able to shake this one, another ghost to the host that haunts her. 

It’s quiet in the clinic. You can’t explain away what she feels. This one was preventable. There was a happy ending in sight. You both know that. 

“Look at my blood. I’m ready.”

“Not today.”

“Why not!?”

“You’re not in the right state of mind for this. None of us are.”

“It’s a vial of blood!”

“Not today, Ellie.” You’re firm. 

“What if something happens to you? Or Joel? Or Carter? Or this baby? And I could’ve stopped it?” She’s pleading, grasping at straws. 

“Another day. When you’re in a better place.”

“I can’t do nothing anymore!”

You hold her gaze. She’s stubborn, but so are you. She’s like a deer stuck in headlights, mind darting between rushing forward or darting back until it’s frozen. Then she’s gone in the blink of any eye. Only then do you allow room for your emotions to fill the empty clinic. 

You’re alone for maybe an hour before Joel finds you face up on one of the cots, tears streaming from the corners of your eyes. He lets out a long sigh, kneeling at your bedside. His hand runs over your head as you turn your head to him.

“I take it you heard?”

“From the source herself.” 

Joel inhales sharply. “She wouldn’t talk to me when I went over.”

You take a deep breath, chest quivering as you do. You ease into a sitting position. Joel helps you up. Your feet dangle over the side. He sits next to you, arm supporting your back. 

“She feels guilty?” Joel asks. 

“She’s blaming herself.” You run a hand over your face. “Chris put himself between her and the infected. Got bit so she wouldn’t.”

“Shit.” Joel cringes. 

You nod, keeping the rest to yourself. It doesn’t feel right to share the rest of what happened. You walk home together. The town feels silent. You pass a few people on the street, but they’re mostly in their homes, holding their families close. 

Maria comes out of Ellie’s house as you reach your congregation of houses. Unspoken words pass between you and your oldest friend. Joel kisses your head. 

“I’ll go get Carter from Tommy’s,” he says, leaving you and Maria.They nod to each other in passing. 

“She tell you?”

Maria nods. You catch the tension in her chest, even under her many layers. She’s reliving it too. 

“You know that was the hardest thing I’ve ever done.” You’ve rarely heard her voice quiver. 

Your arms wrap around her. She holds on to you. “I know.” You don’t have more tears to shed, but you would if you did. “It wasn’t your fault.” 

“I know that… now.” Maria sighs, arms staying around you. “She doesn’t. Not sure she ever will.”

“I know.” 

The two of you stand in the middle of the street, depending on each other for support until Joel and Tommy pull you inside, worried you might freeze. You spend the evening at Tommy and Maria’s. It’s mostly quiet. Joel plucks at the strings of his guitar. He’s only missing one string now. Elias plays contently in the corner. Carter sits beside Joel, intently watching the way his fingers play across the frets. You’re doing what the rest of the town is, leaning on family for support. 

Eventually, the front door opens. Dina and Jesse pull Ellie inside. She looks like a ghost of herself, eyes skirting around trying to figure out who she should sit beside. You get the feeling you weren’t the only one who got snapped at today. 

“We didn’t want to leave her alone,” Dina says. 

You pick up the blanket on your lap, making room for her next to you on the couch. Her head picks up, looking for permission, like you might reject her after what she said earlier. You only nod your head and she’s falling beside you, curling up in a ball, head tucked into your side. You wrap the blanket around her.

“Thank you.” You smile up at Dina and Jesse. 

They nod. “We’ll see you tomorrow, Ellie,” Dina says. Ellie manages a small nod. 

The pair leaves and the quiet settles again. Joel is more thoughtful in his chord progressions, humming a soft melody. Carter makes his way toward you. He peers down at her. 

“I like your hair, Ellie,” He whisper yells. Ellie’s lips tip up just a little bit, but she doesn’t move otherwise. “I hope you feel better soon.” He kisses her cheek before wiggling in between you and Maria on your other side. 

Joel’s voice starts to raise as he sings. His voice has polished some the past few years, after being dormant for two decades. It reminds you more what he sounded like before the outbreak. Carter is asleep before the first song ends. As Joel transitions into another song, there’s movement in your womb. It’s happened more lately, but this picks up. Whatever the baby can hear, it likes. 

You peel through your knowledge of gestational benchmarks. You’re approaching the mark that it would be able to hear sounds outside of your womb, your voice, Joel’s. The kicking ramps up. You shift and Ellie picks her head up. “Should I-”

“No, you’re fine.” You both keep your voices low. 

But she looks unsure as you shift again. You let out a soft sigh, taking her hand and pressing it into the firm mass just above your hip. Her brow furrows and then she feels it, a firm thud right under her hand. 

“Woah… That’s so weird.” 

You smile. “You can hit back.” She looks confused. “Just nudge back. I promise, it doesn’t hurt.”

She does, a little soft at first and then harder. There’s a pause and then a double tap against her hand again. 

Ellie laughs. She actually laughs. Joy flashes across her face. Her hand doesn’t move for the rest of the evening.

Joel is curled around you in bed that night, holding you tightly to him. Ellie sleeps in the downstairs guest room and you’re 98% sure you heard Carter’s footsteps head down stairs as soon as your bedroom door closed. It would hardly be the first time he’s crawled into bed with her. 

Joel can feel the baby moving around under his arm. He doesn’t say anything about it, but you can feel the faint smile against your neck. Tonight with Ellie, the smile on her face as she essentially played with the baby, your baby sticks in your brain. You meant it to cheer her up, figured it would slide into that category of weird but cool. It seemed to, but it was really the first time you’d embraced the pregnancy, and it felt good. 

“You think Ellie’s gonna be okay?” He asks. 

You bite your lip, contemplating your response. You get a literal punch to the gut, getting out a soft grunt. 

Joel chuckles. “That was a hard one.”

Something sprouts in your chest. He’s never directly acknowledged feeling the baby even though you know he has before tonight. You’re okay with it. 

“The baby seemed to like your singing tonight.” 

Joel’s arms tighten around you. His smile grows. “That so?”

“Yeah,” You lay your hand on top of his. “Guess you’ll have to sing more often.”

“Suppose I will.” 

Silence falls again. You know he’s still waiting patiently for your response to his first question. You give it a minute. 

“I think it’s going to take a long time.” You roll over so you can face him. He cups your face, thumb running across your cheek.

He nods, mouth opening to say something before he closes it, eyes roaming over your moonlit features. 

“What is it?”

He sighs. “Just thought of something, but I shouldn’t-”

“What?”

“If we were out, and I got infected- I’d take care of it myself. I wouldn’t make you do that. Wouldn’t make anyone do it.”

You run your finger over the scar on his temple. It’s a serious conversation, one you hate the idea of, but you can’t help the teasing remark that comes out. “You so sure about that?”

Joel takes your hand in his, kissing each of your fingers. “To protect you, I’d do anything, Sweetheart.” 

You let out a shaky breath, touching your forehead to his. “I think you’d have to put the bullet in my head.”

“Ain’t ever gonna happen. I’ll make sure of that.” 

You want to shake your head at the chivalry, at the thing he can’t promise, but somehow you still believe him. Joel Miller will learn how to turn back time before he lets anything or anyone near you. 

His hand falls back to your stomach, running over and around your bump. You inhale deeply, feeling drawn toward sleep. 

“Sweetheart?”

“Hmmm?”

“If it’s something else that gets me… where I’m not putting you in danger…”

“Joel,” You want him to stop. You can’t think of that happening. You can’t think about him not coming back to you in one piece. Especially after what happened to Paul this summer. Especially now that you’re pregnant. 

“I want the last thing I hear to be your voice. Not a gunshot. That’s all.” He rubs your back. 

Tears gather under the lids of your closed eyes. He’s thought about this. You fight the constricting happening in your chest, remind yourself this is all hypothetical. 

“Okay.” You manage, wrapping your arms around his neck. “When we’re both old and senile, I’ll make sure to tell you goodnight so that it’s the last thing you ever hear.” 

He chuckles lightly, kissing your temple. “Okay.” 

Taglist: @pedrotonin @amyispxnk @joeldjarin @ilovepedro @justagalwhowrites @missladym1981 @jessthebaker @annieispunk @ashleyfilm @moel-jiller @eloquentdreamer @lizzie-cakes

[breaking-binary-system]

So, especially with it being disability pride month, I've noticed something more and more: A lot of people, disabled and able-bodied, give a TON of hate to us ambulatory wheelchair users. So, I decided fuck it let me tell people a story about one.

There was this boy. He grew up with a disabled father and a mother who had a ton of chronic pain. He could see the effects. By the time this boy was 5, his father walked full time on a cane.

When he turned 11, he started suffering from severe debilitating leg pain. To the point he would miss school for days and would spend all day every day sobbing his eyes out from how severe it took, even after taking the max amount of ibuprofen and Tylenol he could. He eventually got into seeing a rheumatologist out of fear it was something rheumatology related.

For 6 years, the boy was constantly in pain and the most he would get told is "well your double jointed that's why you have this much pain, just go do physical therapy". That never helped him. When he turned 17, everything changed.

He went to go see a different doctor at this office, one he had to wait years for since she saw adults and, well, 17 was just close enough to be tolerated. She looked at his blood tests and did a physical and came to a realization.

"It's not that you're double jointed, you have rheumatoid arthritis. It's why your shoulders grind, they lack cartilage now from years of this disorder. Let's do our best to treat it"

That started a year's worth of trial and error before she finally decided to give the boy an immunosuppressant that had worked for his father who also had the disorder. He wasn't cured but, quickly, his symptoms started to go away more and more.

This boy, from the age of 15 on, had to use mobility aids frequently if not all the time. It started with a simple cane and while it helped, his hands couldn't take the pressure on his nerves. So, he tried a walker. And that helped too. Forearm crutches were best to get him still able to have some ability to walk. He found something that made his life a lot easier however.

His grandfather had a multitude of issues, many of which required him to have a wheelchair before he passed. So, his grandfather made it known that any mobility aids the boys father didn't use, the boy was more than welcome to have. So, he decided one day to try and use the wheelchair.

Suddenly things were so much easier. He couldn't walk all the time yes and he didn't need the chair 24/7 but it meant that when his POTS was acting up or he was in a arthritis flare up, he could use a wheelchair and still be mobile. It changed his life. However he wasn't free from shame and hate on how he shouldn't use one.

He was told repeatedly it wasn't that bad and he was being dramatic and was taking away from people who actually needed them. This boy was 18. He had a disorder that was seen as an "old person" disorder. His body was literally attacking itself. And here was a ton of people attacking him for needing a wheelchair or, if he was in a store with them, a mobility scooter.

This boy took months of steady therapy to be willing to even go in public with the wheelchair again. A lot of it took support from his boyfriend and his father who encouraged him and reminded him that it was OKAY to use a mobility aid, even if he didn't need it 24/7.

If you haven't caught on now don't worry, I'll just say it. I am that boy. I still need reminders from my boyfriend or my father that it's okay to need my wheelchair and I'm not stealing anything, my body has day's of different intensities. Take today.

I thought all I would need is forearm crutches and I'm typing this in my wheelchair and I feel a lot better now that I've used it since, due to the fact this chair is meant to be sat in for someone with a disability not just a regular every day chair, my legs are feeling a shit ton better.

My left knee has been in an awful flare up for about a month and a half at this point. Today it got unbearable so I just sat in the wheelchair my dad keeps at his job for me. I can move now without wanting to cry.

This is a really long post and I'm not entirely sure why i started it to be honest, blame the whole "oh yeah I have a CDD" and the fact that, well, I've been diagnosed with ADHD, specifically attention deficit part.

Something I wanna end this long post on. Don't think just because you saw someone walking yesterday or even 10 minutes ago and now they're in a wheelchair that they're faking or something. Shit can change in a matter of MINUTES.

[haggishlyhagging]

“By 1900 child mortality was already declining—not because of anything the medical profession had accomplished, but because of general improvements in sanitation and nutrition. Meanwhile the birthrate had dropped to an average of about three and a half; women expected each baby to live and were already taking measures to prevent more than the desired number of pregnancies. From a strictly biological standpoint then, children were beginning to come into their own.

Economic changes too pushed the child into sudden prominence at the turn of the century. Those fabled, pre-industrial children who were "seen, but not heard," were, most of the time, hard at work—weeding, sewing, fetching water and kindling, feeding the animals, watching the baby. Today, a four-year-old who can tie his or her own shoes is impressive. In colonial times, four-year-old girls knitted stockings and mittens and could produce intricate embroidery; at age six they spun wool. A good, industrious little girl was called "Mrs." instead of "Miss" in appreciation of her contribution to the family economy: she was not, strictly speaking, a child.

But when production left the houschold, sweeping away the dozens of chores which had filled the child's day, childhood began to stand out as a distinct and fascinating phase of life. It was as if the late Victorian imagination, still unsettled by Darwin's apes, suddenly looked down and discovered, right at knee-level, the evolutionary missing link. Here was the pristine innocence which adult men romanticized, and of course, here, in miniature, was the future which today's adult men could not hope to enter in person. In the child lay the key to the control of human evolution. Its habits, its pastimes, its companions were no longer trivial matters, but issues of gravest importance to the entire species.

This sudden fascination with the child came at a time in American history when child abuse—in the most literal and physical sense—was becoming an institutional feature of the expanding industrial economy. Near the turn of the century, an estimated 2,250,000 American children under fifteen were full-time laborers—in coal mines, glass factories, textile mills, canning factories, in the cigar industry, and in the homes of the wealthy—in short, wherever cheap and docile labor could be used. There can be no comparison between the conditions of work for a farm child (who was also in most cases a beloved family member) and the conditions of work for industrial child laborers. Four-year-olds worked sixteen-hour days sorting beads or rolling cigars in New York City tenements; five-year-old girls worked the night shift in southern cotton mills.

So long as enough girls can be kept working, and only a few of them faint, the mills are kept going; but when faintings are so many and so frequent that it does not pay to keep going, the mills are closed.

These children grew up hunched and rickety, sometimes blinded by fine work or the intense heat of furnaces, lungs ruined by coal dust or cotton dust—when they grew up at all. Not for them the "century of the child," or childhood in any form:

The golf links lie so near the mill

That almost every day

The laboring children can look out

And see the men at play.

Child labor had its ideological defenders: educational philosophers who extolled the lessons of factory discipline, the Catholic hierarchy which argued that it was a father's patriarchal right to dispose of his children's labor, and of course the mill owners themselves. But for the reform-oriented, middle-class citizen the spectacle of machines tearing at baby flesh, of factories sucking in files of hunched-over children each morning, inspired not only public indignation, but a kind of personal horror. Here was the ultimate "rationalization" contained in the logic of the Market: all members of the family reduced alike to wage slavery, all human relations, including the most ancient and intimate, dissolved in the cash nexus. Who could refute the logic of it? There was no rationale (within the terms of the Market) for supporting idle, dependent children. There were no ties of economic self-interest to preserve the family. Child labor represented a long step toward that ultimate "anti-utopia" which always seemed to be germinating in capitalist development: a world engorged by the Market, a world without love.”

-Barbara Ehrenreich and Deirdre English, For Her Own Good: 150 Years of the Experts’ Advice to Women

[that-dreaming-dragon]

Alterhuman Community: Anglocentrism and Spirituality

Word count: 636

It's pretty common that the alterhuman community is largely English-speaking.

Or more that the community at large interacts in English.

And beyond that, many things are also US, if not western-centric, possibly due to the nature of the community being English-dominant.

There has been a bit more discussion surrounding this very phenomenon. And it is understandable why we are here with all the points brought up within that post and following reblogs (threads? I don't know my tumblr lingo). The post focused on the identity aspect of alterhumanity, and the languages tied to these identity concepts.

But I'd encounter another issue--where everything else is also tied to anglocentrism. One of them being spiritual belief.

I often felt a little disconnected from many others within the community due to my largely different background. My family and extended family, even beyond, are largely eastern in spirituality and beliefs, with Buddhism being the religion that has a larger presence in my life. Christianity was sort of like a myth to me, horror stories and tales told to me in passing. Not to say there wasn't any education going into that area, but the class about world religion back in high school means the focus is on religion across the world. I had family friends and others in my life that are Christian, not enough for me to understand all that went into such a belief. I was living in a bubble of eastern influenced belief, and then I didn't comprehend what it's like to not have such a background.

The stronger irony is that I didn't learn about the finer details of Christianity until I was knee-deep in the alterhuman community. I'm constantly a bit off-kilter when I talk about spirituality with others, and there's just a bit of a gap with others if things originate too much from earthen-established faith belief. I'm still trying to learn what Pegan and New Age encompass. I mean, they could very well be concepts I am well acquainted, but just in a different cultural lens and language.

Of course, I also need to be aware of how much and how strongly my perspective skews my view on things. I know there are those who share similar backgrounds with me within the community, and the community at large does try to keep a worldly view. Considering many of us are from completely different worlds or realms as well.

Thinking on this, it's a strange place to be. We try to focus on individual experiences without the influence of this earthen realm, but still the importance of society and culture, or everything else that follows, does have impact on our own perception of things. How we see animal through human angle, how we explain our experience with what we had outside the alterhuman scope. We acknowledge that fictionkin, therian, and otherkin are all the same experience by technicality, with different focuses (I need category terms that aren't identify-as focused, fictionfolk (which we have), animalfolk (do people use that?), and otherfolk? nonhumanfolk??). I'm wondering if this is sort of like being from fiction is like. You have something preestablished, that shaped you, and every new understanding is built upon this foundation.

I'm not entirely certain where I'm going with this, ramble as my writings tends to be. Originally I had wanted to answer in specific a Writing Wednesday prompt posted within the Alterhuman Community, specifically in regards to what sort of community project I'd like to see.

Perhaps a zine featuring alterhumanity from non-English earthen culture? I only am proficient in 2.5 languages, but I feel that it'd be beneficial at large. Talon's post inspired and encouraged folks to write in non-English languages they know (I'm not saying Native Language, I have very complicated relation with things like that…), and that is certainly a start. Though we probably will have quite a headache first just in trying to figure out how to translate concept terms.

[annah-kitathryne]

@dchuntress this is for you.

My Extreamly Biased Review Of Detective Comics [2016] #1090 - 1093

These are my notes taken as I was reading, and I sum up some of my thoughts at the very end. I said I would only review Scarlett, but I want to wait for the story arc to finish before I do so. So here's my unfiltered notes on these four issues

I don't provide a lot of context to my thoughts, so please either read the issues or remain out of the know.

1090

Morality plot that might be interesting interesting

Saving the life of an abuser, the girl is seventeen, so a child abuser who made a teenager pregnant.

Martha is able to help a new mother, who is seventeen, if that needs to be stated again. This mother is a child herself.

Martha having what appears to be contrasting morals to her husband. Cool.

Bruce needs therapy to deal with his childhood trauma (nothing new). He has the money to afford one and pay them off.

Bruce punches a child who is already apologizing and calling for an ambulance. He could have used his words first instead of assaulting a child.

He put on a tracker to the child who might have surrendered without the need to punch and frighten the child.

The kid Bruce beat up was murdered. I don't want to blame him, but Bruce, you have been a vigilante for at least two decades at this point. You should know better! Eh he has a habit of that.

Perfume = white musk. I know nothing of perfumes, but this reads very much like a play on the white privilege that comes from a system where children being murdered is considered the norm.

Acknowledging, he hit the child. You're doing better than you were in the 90s. Still an apology without change and action means nothing.

Scarlett Martha Scott is pretty, I love her hair color.

They [Bruce and Scarlett] appear to have some history that is nice for a character to have.

Disturbingly cool science that causes a person to decrease age reminds me of that rich guy who gets blood transfusions from his son. Also vampirism.

She has beliefs that contradict those in which Bruce's dad passes to Bruce. Cool point of contention.

"Youth is wasted on the young." She's connected to the murders. We love morally and financially corrupt female characters, though. However, that statement reads very much like what an old politician would say to his buddies behind closed doors.

Plot point reminds me a bit of Batman Beyond Lazarus pit youth plot.

Love that Bruce pointed out that he did not take the Oath because I have words about how he handles things.

Bruce really went: With this purely medical enhancement, I could reverse some aging and ergo help more people.

Thomas releasing Joe Chill. Irony.

1091

Batman is having a nightmare about the kids being Robin and shooting Joker, Batman slaps the kid and that slap kills the kid.

The children's deaths are definitely related to the Holy Grail.

Targeting disenfranchised children who the media and populace are not going to miss.

Bullock assuming Batman is human.

The artwork for the truck scene was beautiful.

I like the colors

Bruce is envious of Damian's ability to fight. [Sidenote: we need to have a discussion on the different abilities and ages all the different Robins experienced as Batman's sidekick. Dick would have been sidekick to a young Batman who was still early into being Batman vs. Damian who is dealing with an older Batman but one who has got the procedure down.]

Bruce having very real knee pain.

Not me forgetting Alfred is dead. Good he's dead.

Is the world truly safer with Batman in it? It's the chicken and egg question. The hero rising to the challenge of the villain vs. The villain is rising to challenge the hero.

Superman being positive.

More than one motive? Scarlett that is suspicious as all hell.

Do the wrong thing for the right reason. Scarlett wants to force the rich to recognize they have to preserve the planet in order to live longer on it, but that won't ever happen. It isn't in the nature of the rich.

Doctor Forster has been blunt. Pfff. Bruce is playing self-consious.

'Biologically younger than your age.' What does that even mean? And with the amount of stress and damage done to Bruce's body? How?

Take some pills and use these creams. Reminds me of those commercials.

I like that Scarlett is smart. We love smart morally corrupt women.

Damian really went: Father, it's 2 a.m., and you have been asleep for 11 hours.

Bruce handing Damian his blood? Bruce, stop being creepy. What is he supposed to do with that?

Bruce immediately tests it after a day. You know. Like an idiot.

Bruce, you care about if there are lives lost but not the medical bills they can't pay.

Yeah, that villain is Forster, Scarlett, or someone who works for them.

1092

Okay, 1. He is a child. How is Kai harming you. 2. [Jump up kick that whip around and spin, now jump back do it again. . .]

So not only is it repairing the damages of you know fighting crime and the natural process of aging but it also enhances the brain. I can't possibly imagine how that goes wrong.

Yep, they are stealing the children's blood. Black market organ harvesting is back in business. Rebranded and even more deadly.

[Full disclosure took a moment to stop and browse Ebay for Red Robin comics. Found some and bought them. The top part of my page of notes is covered in marked numbers.]

Another weird organization is not allowing the GCPD to investigate? Honestly, tracks for Gotham. And because the police are good guys to Batman comics, this group will be bad guys.

I was right they are stealing the blood of children. Bruce is now directly benefitting from the murder of children just like every other rich person.

Vampires!

Bruce 'my son, is hurting, and I will punch these guys to get an ID out of them.'

The I.D. card looking like the grail is 'how to get caught 101'. Should have had that I.D. card be something else.

Okay so she's possibly being threatened. Possibly.

I love her hair and clothes style. We don't see enough morally corrupt people wear pink.

Okay, they [Bruce and Scarlett] do look kinda cute together.

What do you mean there is nothing you can do about your mother?

Aww they beat up muggers together. That's cute. But now you both look suspicious.

Bruce what are you doing?

Omg Bruce!

Barbara calling the grail connection a coincidence? What have they done to you, babs? Have they downgraded your smarts.

Babs, you would be able to crack those encryptions given enough time.

Damian doesn't look enough like Talia. Child, where is your mother's genetics?

His attitude is kinda funny.

1093

Jason shows up and traumatizes another child.

Oh all of them are hunting down the seven missing children.

Babsgirl. . .ehhhh.

Batman sounding accusatory about a child who committed a crime.

Bruce is calling a guy who is head taller than him a 'small, small, man.'

'You don't know what I've done.' Damian and Jason: I've done worse.

Damian was a child, though.

All these Bats are in a room together, and no one is fighting or being snarky at each other? Damn.

Tim and Damian are nearly the same height.

Okay, so that was perspextive. But they should be closer in height than what is being shown.

Casually calling your girlfriend while running down a security guard? Bruce . . .

Never mind he was a merc.

Penguin back again.

The murderer is protected by a secret power? Probably the elites paying money to be medically de-aged.

Asema- quick Google search has the name connected to the Fan word Azema, which means vampire or the Ojibwe word asemaa, which means 'to make'. They are fitting because they are in a way making vampires.

Asema believes that people don't deserve more than one chance. Asema, these are children.

Children who must I mention are being spat back out into a world where they were put into circumstances where they committed crimes? You can't just throw someone, especially children, back into the same situation and expect complete change!

That criminal is a CHILD.

Asema obviously has a lot of trauma that has her targeting the individuals who cause the pain instead of the system that creates the situations that shape individuals. Killing children will NOT solve the problem. It only makes things worse.

Is another kid dead?

Yeah.

You also allowed them to collect your blood idiot.

Can Cass come in and beat this lady up and go all 'No one dies tonight' on her.

And they have your identity. Good going Bruce.

Final thoughts? [So far.]

I'll hold off on character judgment until the storyline finishes, but here are some of my basic thoughts I might expand later. Maybe.

Vampirism as an allegory for the rich and powerful ducking the life out of the people. Shown through the taking of blood from children who have already been victims of the prison industrial complex in order to keep the elite young.

Bruce is actually feeling the natural effects of aging and using his body as a weapon. I fear this is just a plot device that will not continue forward. [Correct me if I'm wrong.]

I actually like Scarlett. Whether she turns out to be the ultimate villain of this arc or villain by being complicit in the continued and growing divide between the elite and the people. I think she is an interesting character. I just hope they don't declaw her potential and present villainy. We see that too much with female characters.

Kinda wanna know if the LoA would have any interest in Grail tech, and how it would interact with Lazarus.

I love the artwork, but Damian looks like a Bruce clone and not a child. Where is your mother's genetics child.

This story gave me a lot of flashbacks to the Lazarus Pit story from Batman Beyond.

The interesting probably unintended undertones with Bruce failing to save several children can be read a lot like Bruce, ultimately being part of the problem. Bruce is still a privileged man who is benefiting from the systems put in place to only ever lift the rich up higher, and because of this, he ultimately ends up hurting those who will always be hurt by the system designed to always harm them. Batman's presence ultimately seems to both inspire those who want to help and hurt. It gives blanket permission to and, in consequence, new villains will always rise to the challenge.

[smok3r7]

New Traditions // Valentine’s Day Oneshot

Joel x f!reader

Explicit, 18+

Main Masterlist & My AO3

Summary: The last Valentine’s Day two years ago has shattered your view of the so-called holiday. When Joel brings up the idea, you shut him down immediately, but he doesn’t listen. He hopes he can change your opinion on the holiday of Love.

Word count: 4.6k

Warnings: No outbreak AU, no Sarah or Ellie, slight angst, fingered, FLUFF

—

“What woman doesn’t love Valentine’s Day?” Joel questions as he lets your bent knees fall on his lap and lays one of his hands on your bare skin. The question throws you off, it’s a no-brainer; your face furrows instinctively.

“I guess just me,” you shrug your shoulders and laugh, “I just- I don’t have the best memories, is all. Ended up catching my ex of five years cheating on me two years ago with my receptionist. In my own home, might I add. So, safe to say that I despise this bullshit holiday.”

“You’re serious?”

“Yeah…fucking Adrianna, the gremlin lookin’ bitch.”

“Welp, his loss. So fuck ‘em.” Joel winks at you, causing you to chuckle and slightly shake your head.

“Thank you, but don’t think my feelings are gonna change just ‘cause you said that. Gonna take a lot for that to happen - if that’s even possible.”

“Oh baby, I got a week to think of somethin’ to do for you. But if it doesn’t work, I won’t try again okay?”

You give him a glance as your head lays in the palm of your hand, propped up by your elbow on the back of the loveseat. “Don’t go out of your way, baby, okay? I promise, I’m okay with doin’ nothing special or even related to it. Nothings gotta change, alright?” Your tone has more of an edge than before, making sure he understands that you really, really don’t want to do anything.

Joel must’ve heard the tension in your voice because he just nods his head, yes ma’am. He slowly leans closer and lays a soft kiss on your forehead as he cups your face with his large hands. Both of you turn your attention back to the TV that’s playing an old episode of Dexter, with both of you understanding your wishes.

—

The memory of that conversation finally clicks in your brain as you stand by the round kitchen table, with a mixture of fresh fruits and homemade omelets as Joel stands behind the wooden chair he’s waiting for you to sit in; you’re baffled.

“Joel, I told yo-“

“Don’t, I don’t want to hear it from you.” He interrupts your strong protest, before it can even begin. “Now, here’s the plan for toda-“

“But I said-“ you glare at his face when you cut him off, starting to become irritated because you really did want today to be the same. You just wanted to enjoy the day with Joel with no special treatment, but the fact that he didn’t listen to your wishes from a week ago kills you on the inside.

Why didn’t you just listen to me?

Joel interrupts your sentence by barking your name loud, this is when your body language shifts. Your arms quickly fold in front of your chest, your weight shifts to your left hip, and you just stare into his face with tears starting to blur your vision.

You hate to be yelled at, hell, scolded would be a better word for it. This has always been an issue for you; the minute you feel like a man goes against your wishes and then scolds you for arguing about it - you shut down and start to crack.

An eerie silence coats the walls of the kitchen that surrounds you and Joel. It feels like time has stopped, he stands in front of you with both hands wrapped around the rectangular dark wood chair and his face sharp. Although you’re about eye level to Joel, you somehow still feel small and broken as he looks into your eyes; you’re not quite sure what to do or think.

You look up slightly and start to rapidly blink so you can try to stop the tears from rolling, so you don’t seem like this weak little girl, but this just happens to cause the salty drops to fall. With a fifteen year age gap between you and Joel, there are times you do feel like a child and it twists your stomach into knots.

Your lips quiver from a smile, to biting your bottom lip, to being slightly pursed, all because you’re trying not to lose it completely.

“You went a-against my wishes, Joel,” you barely whisper, lowering your sight back to him in front of you.

“Just-“ he removes his fingers from the chair and turns his body to face you, now only about three feet apart from you.

“Please sit down n’ eat this breakfast, okay, baby?” He questions quietly, which causes his southern accent to vibrate through your ears.

Still with your arms crossed and body weight on your left side of your body, your eyes shift from his face to the delicious food on the table - that he clearly got up early and prepared for you. You don’t say anything when you look back at him, all you do is nod and wipe the tears from your face.

“Thank you,” Joel sighs, he then stands back and lets you sit down as he pushes the chair in behind you, and he kisses the top of your head, then walks to his seat across the small table from you and sits down.

Breakfast is eaten in silence, but a different one than before. This time, the silence feels comfortable and calm, no tension or eeriness in the walls. It’s just the scrapes of the knives and forks on the glass plates, mixed with the chewing from the two ends of the table, that fill your ears.

So delicious, my god.

By the time you clear your plate Joel is already standing up and reaches for your dishes. Instinctively, you move to stop him, but your brain stops your body from rejecting and you decide to sit back in the chair instead.

“Thank you,” you whisper as you scan your eyes up the large body only inches away from you.

“No need, darlin’,” he responds, staring down at you, he then turns and walks towards the sink and sets down the dishes with a soft, clink. “Now, I want you to head upstairs n’ wait in the bathroom for me. I’ll be right up.”

Your brain still isn’t functioning how it should be, and a large part of you wants to scream at him about how you don’t need to be treated with special treatment. But then the other part of you wants to accept this for what it is, that this man is madly in love with you and desires to treat you to special things.

An even smaller piece of yourself really does want to enjoy Valentine’s Day, it’s always sounded like a sweet thing; maybe this is the time.

So you know this isn’t a time to argue; instead, you smile when you stand up, and you don’t say anything when you walk in the direction of the landing that leads to the staircase. As you hesitantly step onto the dark carpeted landing, you hear the faint sound of the faucet turn on and the clinks of dishes in the kitchen.

The corners of your lips softly curl, and you continue up the staircase. The dishes are a part of the cleaning you did around the house - you and Joel split the chores around the large home, it was something that seemed fair for the both of you so no one got overwhelmed or felt taken advantage of.

So, the fact that he is taking the time to do something off of your list causes your heart to flutter. You reach the top of the stairs and head in the direction of Joel’s, and now your, bedroom. When you gently push the door open, your nose is filled with the scent of Joel, the musky scent of his cologne and his shirts lingering in an intoxicating way; this warm tender feeling forms in your belly, you feel so loved.

You just have to accept that Joel wants to do this, it’s not a chore for him, it’s a desperate need that he has.

Swiftly, you walk through the bedroom to reach the master bathroom that’s connected, and you slide the large barn style door open to the sight of tall candles lit and spaced out on the white tile floor and the outer edge of the porcelain tub, a small chair with bottles that read “Shampoo, Conditioner, Butter Cream Bubble Bath” next to the tub, and two white towels on the back of the chair.

When did he have time to do this? You whisper to yourself as you set your bare feet onto the cool tile, sliding the door closed behind you to keep the warm air from the heater confined to the bathroom. Your mind is trying to jumble ideas together, but comes up completely blank.

You still hear the sounds of dishes and water running downstairs, n’ wait for me. A smile grows on your lips, your cheeks warm up, and your belly spins and spins from anticipation. You spot your plush gray robe hanging on the hooks next to Joel’s black one, that’s hung up besides the glass standing shower.

So you decide to strip your pajamas off, the black tank top and sleep shorts dropping them in a small pile on the tile floor beneath your feet. Your right hand grabs the robe off the wall and swings it around your bare body so you can slip your arms through, and wrap the soft fabric around the front of yourself, as you do a little tie to keep it loosely together.

When you spin around to observe the bathroom from this side of the room, the soft glow from the candles is still just as breathtaking and beautiful. You catch the spot on the counter between the two sinks is empty like normal, at least something is the same. It’s the spot you sit whenever Joel shaves, brushes his teeth, showers - honestly, whenever he’s in here.

To keep some kind of routine and normalcy, you stride over to the counter and turn around so you can push your body up and set your ass onto the white and gray marble counter. Why does he insist on doing this? I’m not deserving of this kinda love and affection, it just doesn't seem real.

Your legs dangle off of the edge as you wait to hear the thumps from his feet on the stairs and the creak from sliding the door that separates you from the rest of the house. By now, the noises from downstairs have stopped and it’s only a matter of time until he’s in front of you.

The same time that you lean back onto the large mirror behind you, the barn door to your right gently slides open. The biggest smile appears on your face when you see him standing there, holding a long tray that’s filled with some more fruits cut up, but this time they’re covered in a white chocolate.

“Baby,” you purr as you sit up straight and he closes the door, then walks towards you on the counter and sets down the tray on the other side of the sink. Without saying anything, he turns around and turns the tub faucet on and to the hottest setting, and steam slowly rises from the water. Then he turns and brings his large body between your dangling legs, his hands placed on your hips, and he lowers his head to kiss you.

Your eyes start to well with tears as you kiss him back, but these are happy tears. You’ve never been treated with such care and tenderness, it’s very refreshing to know that a man is still capable of doing simple and effective gestures. Naturally, your arms hook around the back of his neck, which pulls your body right up to his; the smell of sweat, dish soap, and spices from breakfast overpower your nose.

God, he’s perfect.

“Okay, darlin’,” Joel sighs between the last couple kisses before he hesitates to pull away from you. “I want you to know that today is meant for you n’ that I want you to learn to love today. Cause’ you’re meant to, alright?”

With your hands playing with the curls that lay on the nape of his neck, you smile and nod as you stare into his soul-catching whiskey eyes, yes sir.

The smirk that appears on his face has your stomach doing flips, your hips instinctively grinding on his lower abdomen. His fingers dig deeper into your hips that’s covered by your robe as he groans under his breath, his eyes staring daggers into yours, trying so hard to not give in on his desires.

“Stop tryna’ distract me,” he tells you as he smiles and backs away from your jello-like body. Your arms drop in your lap as you watch him spin around and turn the tub faucet off, grab the bottle that reads “Butter Cream Bubble Bath” and squeeze a good amount into the water, and he swirls the steaming hot liquid. Bubbles start to appear just above the rim of the white bathtub, you can’t help but smile like a child waiting to be put in the bath after a long day.

Joel then brings his attention back to you, and the butterflies begin to appear like they did the first time you laid eyes on him at the bar where you met. The way his head cocks to the side to try to analyze you and your reactions tells you that he’s really trying to understand you fully, which you absolutely love.

He steps between your legs again, but this time his hands find a place underneath your ass and your arms hook around his neck once again. Joel then pulls you up, your legs latch around his waist, and your face rests in the crook of his neck, now lined with droplets of sweat from the warmth and humidity of the bathroom. You inhale once again, you can’t help it - you’re just so intoxicated by the smell of him, it’s almost an addiction.

But, just as soon as he lifts you up, he’s kneeling down and sitting you on the edge of the bathtub. You pout your lip at the loss of the body contact, your arms still around his neck as he kneels in front of you, his face now parallel to your chest.

“Don’t wanna’ get this wet, do ya?” His voice is deep and low as his hand reaches for the tie at your waist, his fingers slowly pulling the string keeping the piece of clothing together. You chuckle at his sudden confidence change, and you love when he does this, it somehow makes you fall even more in love with him.

His hands rise up to your shoulders and he gently pulls the fabric off of your body, letting the soft robe pile around your ass and thighs. His eyes gaze up and down your bare body, lingering on every inch of your skin like he’s eyeing his food, about to devour.

You slightly shiver from the warm air that hits your bare skin, Joel’s eyes move to your tits and he watches how your nipples perk from the humid air that circulates around the room. He licks his lips and mumbles something to himself, between the heater on the floor and the thumping of your heart in your ears you can’t make out what he’s said.

Both of his hands are placed on the top of your thigh and his thumbs start to do small up and down sort of motions. Your cunt beats at the same rhythm as your heart, a swirling feeling growing stronger in your belly, and you try to move your hips for some sort of friction. But your body is stuck from the grip Joel has on your thighs. You slightly whine and he smiles at seeing you losing your control.

“Now, spin your little self around n’ sink in.”

You do as he says with no hesitation, no questions, and no arguing. When you spin around and sink your feet into the bubbly steaming water, you’re immediately wrapped in warmth. Hhmm, you moan as you shut your eyes and fully submerge your body into the tub, laying your back on the porcelain behind you.

The water is almost at a scalding temperature, but it feels amazing on your skin, immediately relaxing the tension in your limbs that you didn’t even notice before.

“There you go, babygirl’, just relax n’ I’ll be downstairs, yell for me if ya’ need me.”

“Wait-“ you quickly say as your eyes shoot open and you lift your body up, causing your tits to surface from the water with clouds of soapy bubbles over them. Joel stops his movements and looks at you in the bathtub, waiting to hear what you have to say.

“You’re not gonna come in with me?”

Joel’s jaw clenches at your soft voice and the question, “Only if ya’ want me to,” he smirks back at you. All you do is nod and move your body closer to the faucet so he can slide in behind you. He watches the way the water moves with your body, and he starts to strip himself of the basketball shorts and his dark gray t-shirt, dropping them in the pile of your clothes.

Your cunt clenches at the sight of Joel naked in front of you. His chest and belly full of dark hair, his tan skin underneath, his cock hard up against his lower abdomen, and his thick legs beneath - he’s the perfect man, physically and emotionally.

He steps over the ledge and sinks into the same water you’re in, the bubbles and water now only an inch away from spilling over the edge of the tub. He slowly maneuvers your body so your back is against his chest, and you feel his cock lay against your lower back. Your head falls to his shoulder and leans into the crook of his neck, and your hands rest on his thighs that bend on the outside of yours.

Joel’s strong arms hook around your waist, one hand spreads against your lower belly and his right hand lightly grabs your inner thigh and raises it out of the water to hook your calf on the outer edge of the tub. The drastic temperature change between the water and the air causes goosebumps to rise on your skin, and Joel chuckles. You feel the rumble at your back as he does.

“Now, I want you to listen,” he whispers in your ear as he drags his fingers down your thigh and submerges back into the bubbles and water, stopping right at the crease before your mound.

“My moon n’ stars, you’re beautiful inside n’ out.” He bends his face and you feel his stubble tickle your neck as he starts to leave soft kisses between his words. His hands are still on your lower belly and thigh, giving soft squeezes to your skin; the mixture of it all causes soft moans to escape your lips, but you want more.

“You deserve nothin’ but the best things in life,” the hand on your thigh lowers and hovers over your aching cunt; your hips rise to try to feel him, causing the water to spill a little bit.

“My baby’s needy, huh?”

Mhmm, is all you can force yourself to do as you dig your fingers into his thick thighs and bite your bottom lip as you let him continue to leave sloppy kisses on your neck. Your stomach feels like it has dropped into a sinkhole, you’re just waiting for his touch so you can relax that overwhelming feeling. And just like that, his middle and ring finger swipe from your slick hole to your clit, your back arches and a broken moan leaves your throat from the sensation.

“Love when you finally give in, the noises you make,” his two fingers softly circle your clit and your right hand comes up to hook around the back of his head as you turn your face to meet him.

“N’ the way your body moves,” he whispers into your mouth as he kisses you with moans between each one. His fingers swirl slow circles on your clit for a moment before he lowers them and slowly inserts them in your small hole. The moan that leaves your lips is swallowed by Joel’s kisses as he pumps his fingers in and out, “So tight baby, relax,”

You try but you can’t. You’re so overstimulated from his fingers, his palm hitting your clit with each thrust, his cock throbbing behind you, and his other hand now pinching your left nipple.

I love you, my sweet girl, you look so damn pretty when you’re full of my fingers, your cheeks get so flushed and the way you can’t form words, just drunk off of the love.

You’ve never felt so loved before, this was all about you and Joel being able to do things for you - you’re finally starting to understand the appeal of Valentine’s Day. Pure love.

“That’s it darlin’, just like that. I’m right here.”

You break the kiss and lean your face into his neck, arm still wrapped around his head behind you, and you finally let that coil snap. With the last pump of his fingers, your back arches and you feel this tension release in your hips. Joel, fuck, you repeat into his neck as you calm down from the orgasm he just ripped from you, as he continues to slowly thrust his fingers in and out of you.

Shhh, pretty girl, I gotchu, he purrs as his left arm lowers around your waist so you don’t slide down too far into the water.

By now the water has cooled down, and it’s still warm but any longer and the two of you will be laying in a cool bath, which is fun for no one. Joel waits until your breathing has calmed down, and when it does, he taps your thigh that’s still hooked onto the outside of the tub. It jumps a little before you submerge it back into the bath water.

You and Joel chuckle at your body’s response, “You ready, dear?” You lift your face to look into his and you nod with a fucked-out look on yours. “You gotta carry me though,” you laugh as you say it, causing Joel to smile ear-to-ear and a deep laugh leaves his chest, “Was already plannin’ on it baby.”

Joel taps you once again to tell you to lean forward for him to get out, which you do. You watch him grab his black robe off the wall and slip it on as he ties it loosely in front of him. He then goes to grab yours and throws it over his shoulder, his hands then reach for yours to grab onto. You smile as you lift your hands into his and with the help of him pulling, you’re able to stand up and step out of the white tub. Water and suds drip down your body as Joel brings your rope around your body and lets you slide your arms into the soft material, then he ties the string to keep it together.

The smile has not dropped from your face, and you don’t think it will any time soon. Joel now has a softer smile over his, like he sees your opinion changing of valentine's right in front of him.

Joel takes your hand and leads you to the barn door once more as he opens it and tells you to lay down on the king size mattress you two share. Your brain is too foggy to try to refuse, so you climb on the navy comforter that smells of Joel. When you reach the pillows and turn around to lean against the headboard, you notice Joel holding the tray that’s full of the chocolate covered fruits that you forgot about.

Your face lights up as the sight of the chocolate strawberries, pineapples, and melons. So much so that Joel chuckles, I knew you forgot about these. He walks over to the side of the bed and sets the tray on your lap, he then grabs the TV remote that’s on your nightstand and he turns it to the station that plays movies that you always seem to love.

As you shove your face with the fruit, you also watch the guide on the TV as Joel scrolls and you look in the top left corner which reads, “2:48PM”. You almost choke when you realize that you two spent over an hour and a half in the bath, it definitely did not seem that long.

“There it is,” Joel says out loud as he clicks on the 234 channel, “Look at that, Good Will Hunting,” he turns his body to gauge your reaction, which is amazing nonetheless.

“How did-“

“Don’t. A magician never reveals his secrets. Now, I’m gonna’ go start dinner-“

“You’re not gonna watch with me?” You pout, setting down the small strawberry you were about to pop into your mouth.

“I mean, I had a couple more things planned, darlin’.” He replies but he watches your posture and how your eyes lower with sadness, it’s like a gut punch to him to see you like this.

“But if you’d rather sit up here n’ watch this, I’d be more than happy to do that with you.”

Your face brightens when you hear his voice tell you that with pure sincerity. You nod your head quickly, yes, please, baby, spills out of your mouth and you scoot over for him to sit next to you. He chuckles and climbs into the spot you cleared for him. “Wanna’ share?” he asks with a smirk on his face.

The laugh that leaves your chest causes Joel to blush and smile like an idiot. “My bad baby, of course.” You grab the tray and lay half of it on your lap and the other half on Joel’s. You lean into Joel’s side, he lifts his arm and rests it over your opposite shoulder as the two of you watch Matt Damon solve a ridiculous math question.

“So did I change your mind?” Joel’s question vibrates your body against his.

You take a second to answer him, you raise your eyes off of the TV and to Joel’s face where he’s already looking at yours below him.

“Order some Chinese takeout, and you sure did.”

Joel’s laughs and shakes his head, deal, darlin’. The same smile you had from the bath, takes over your face again as you push yourself up to kiss his soft lips.

“I love you, thank you.”

“Anything for you pretty girl, I love you more than the moon n’ stars combined.”

He kisses you one more time before he grabs his phone from his nightstand and goes to the menu for your favorite Chinese restaurant down the street. You bury your body more into Joel’s black robe, and you lower your eyes back to the movie.

Matt Damon bangs on the restaurant window, “You like apples?” The other dude nods his head, and Matt slams the napkin with the girl's number on it on the window, “How do you like them apples?” All his friends laugh as they walk into the street.

[dinosaurswant2rule]

Sauron keeps his word OR Sauron never lies

I was thinking about random clips, seeing random gifs on tumblr and it gave me a lot of thoughts (this fandom is so talented just wow) about SAURON/HALBRAND/THE DEAD EYED MONK

So here are some random quotes about how Sauron always keeps his word (unintentionally or otherwise)

"You bind me to light and I bind you to power"

I think this one is particularly sad in a way as I always thought his offer to her was genuine and at least for me heavily romantically inclined (as far as he is capable of that)

I love the fact Sauron absolutely keeps his promise / request to Galadriel, he absolutely does bind her to power, the ring he built for her via Brimby saves her race and binds her to serious power (ironically over him) for the rest of her natural life.

(and it was a god damn wedding ring, this is a hill I will die on)

And the sad bit for me is Galadriel never binds him to the light (ie her, tell me again that these are people are not lovers) or not in the way he so desperately wants. He is only ever bound by his connection/obsession through her. A connection he CAN NEVER break as in her defences against him ie he's always outside looking in (thank fuck that), whether he wants to break away is a separate question (and a different rant), but to me this is strangely sad. It adds a certain level of desperation to his request/offer to her in the first series and when they meet again in season 2, it's even more brutal and tragic because

She is now bound to power that can defeat him and he knows it (possibly why he wants Nenya so bad)

Also it's a constant reminder that something he created, but never actually laid his hands on was bathed in light, so a connection/bind to the light (for him) was possible, but now absolutely unachievable in the way he so absolutely desired (hello major inferiority complex but again a separate rant)

Anyway rambling a bit

NEXT!

"That I had to heal everything I helped ruin"

While Sauron's destruction is major in the earlier ages (and all of it is probs not on his shoulders I'm talking Morgoth etc here not the one ring) and he obviously doesn't rebuild the whole of Middle Earth, he again sort of sets out what he plans to do . Specifically he does kind of heal Galadriel (albeit unintentionally) her fight against Sauron, her desire to kill him just for revenge and no other reason (and possibly herself in the process) disappears and she manages to move on from her brother's death thanks to her dealings with Halbrand (woooh for irony!) She's forced to learn humility and some good sense, (I have issues with this plot point), but regardless she pushes forward with her life and does for the lack of a better word "heal"

AND LAST BUT BY NO MEANS LEAST

"I would never have rested until all Middle Earth had been brought to it's knees to worship the lights of it's Queen"

This sort of happens too, she does become a Queen of Middle Earth (also thanks to her awesomeness in of herself too) that everyone respects/admires/fears. So if not all Middle Earth, at least a goodly chunk come to fear/adore the lady of light, thanks to her dealings with him/what she becomes. And In terms of the book (just as a side point) - Galadriel's realm is not a nice place - it's terrifying (Lothlorien) while the fellowship are safe there (sort of) the implication is that they kind of go mad in the process (potentially)

So I feel this quote from Sauron is veryon brand for book Galadriel and who she ends up being

Not sure if it's intentional in the writing, but I love the idea that Sauron keeps his word to Galadriel to the end of his days - woooh for an obsessive love affair/loyalty/cosmic/non-romantic almost partnership

And I'm not saying she achieves this SOLEY thanks to him, I just love the idea in terms of what these two mean to each other and their fates, that Sauron always keeps his promises in relation to Galadriel and never really stops doing that :D

Thanks for listening, plz go check out the gifs as well cause this gif makers in this fandom are wildly talented

Elsa out x

[starshapedoasis]

There are so many things about those men’s lore that absolutely haunt me and yet no one talks about. Like, what do you think Liam meant when he said he was a hooker at 15? Or, why did Noel say he will be lucky if he makes it to 60 a few months ago? That’s only 3 years. Is he in such poor health?

The more you look into them, the more weird things you find; it really is never-ending.

Liam being a hooker at 15

I’ve always leaned toward it being true; some of that’s from personal experience. When you’re living in poverty and you’re someone who’s considered attractive, sex work kind of falls into your lap; you really don’t have to seek it out. So pre-Oasis, Liam, I can completely believe, was doing some form of sex work. This excerpt from Chris Hutton’s book was alluding to it; he just didn’t want to get sued by flat out saying it, imo.

Noel’s Health

I’ve thought a lot about Noel saying that, and I’ve kind of landed on Occam's razor for it. He’s 57, and he’s probably starting to feel it. One thing we know for sure is he has bad knees and needs surgery. I would not be surprised if he’s starting to have other age-related health issues. Getting older is jarring, and he’s been relatively healthy his whole life, unlike someone like Liam, who’s had lifelong health issues; it probably does feel like the end of the world.