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miqojak · 8 months

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And I keep talkin' like I'm taller than the trees

But my eyes never see much higher than five feet

And I keep on telling everyone the truth

But maybe that's not the move

And they say honesty is the best policy

If that were true

Don't think all of my friends would hate me

-THAT BITCH, Bea Miller

#ffxiv rp #gpose #ffxiv gpose #ffxiv #miqo'te #aleemods #ingenue #linxxmods as well for that new backdrop...#now if people could just stop using hearts as accents on all the cool clothing I like that would be fantastic #NATURALLY I forgot her muscle sliders but oh well #look I'm still shook by having knees - all this time later Bibo+ still impresses me #some of my favorite characters have been badass women in leather jackets... so here's to you Emma Swan and Katherine Pierce and Catra and -#Shades of Red

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svankmajerbaby · 1 year

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good even great things about m3gan 2023:

- main character, gemma, is a woman who works in tech, excels at her field, and is also not shown to be maternal or even have an interest in being a mother. this is not portrayed as bad. her situation as the adoptive mother of her niece is shown to be against her will and as much as the movie insists she has to be kinder and more understanding to the child (bc everyone should be) it never faults her or shows her deserving of suffering because of her difficulty to become a substitute to the childs mother. it portrays the fractured relationship as complicated because raising a child is difficult and its not something she could have possibly expected. epitome of good aunt bad mother, and thats alright.

- child character, especially girl main child character, who throws tantrums, compartmentalizes her grief, is a little bit selfish and fully characterized as a bit of a brat while never losing her empathetic nature and basic personhood. she is shown to be creative and smart but not to a hollywood-oh-arent-kids-so-amazingly-in-tune-with-everything degree, just in an expected degree for a nine year old. her grief feels true and heavy and also something she is desperate to escape from, forming one of the core themes of the movie in a wonderful way. shes also shown to be emotionally clever through interactions to know when to lie and manipulate others, especially during the filming of ads and scripted material, that make it both clear that she understands the rewards and that she has personal gain to do this. she learns in a believable way and is just a well written character in all sense, especially compared to the way other child characters are written.

- m3gans voice acting and movements were A+

mediocre or downright bad things about m3gan 2023:

- kind of everything else?

#. 🦴#some ppl are calling it a camp classic. dude Where #its too few scenes to consider it such.... i dont deny their iconic nature they just feel so self aware and meant to be viral and stuff #the emotional core of gemma and cady was very well done i think. and thats why i hated it when the movie just #became a killer robot movie. thats so boring thats so overdone just sticking her in a house with a child does nothing #she hasnt bonded enough with cady for me to think that cady would hurt someone bc of her #and m3gan as a character is just not interesting or that entertaining when she talks like a generic movie villain. making threats and stuff #i would have loved for her to be endlessly devoted to cady or to be desperate for her approval or sth #but m3gan just shook off her link to her creator and to her child so quickly. she just ended up killing for killings sake #and i repeat shes just not that scary shes so powerful theres no ingenuity to it #goddammit i wish i could have been #given a shot at rewriting it #hey james wan give me the reigns over m3gan 2 i will give u updated childs play 2 #bc this one is definitely no childs play 1

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francorebel · 1 year

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i'm hoping the madlad that did this got to see his work in the end

spero che il pazzo che ha fatto questo abbia visto il suo lavoro alla fine

#naturfotografie #nature #trees #tree of life #ingenuity #morbid curiosity #curiosity #life #love #i love it #tumblr milestone

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sandersgrey · 10 months

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My hot take is that I dont think research into how to slow down aging is inherently bad. The issue with most of it is that it interferes with quality of life.

#alex wont shut up #like no im not gonna stop smiling or using straws #but if my grandma could slow down or even reverse her aging so we could get more time w her? thatd be nice #'aging is natural' so is human ingenuity

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evaneugenedavis · 1 year

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Discovering Beauty in Simplicity: How I Used a Basic Lighting Setup to Create Stunning Portraits

As a portrait photographer, I believe that capturing the personality of your subject is just as important as getting the lighting and composition right. That’s why, in a recent photoshoot with my friend Lian, a talented dancer and choreographer in New York, I set out to do just that. I had just purchased a set of Speedotron strobes, but unfortunately, my lighting modifiers had not yet arrived in…

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blueheartbooks · 8 days

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Robinson Crusoe: A Timeless Tale of Survival and Self-Discovery

Daniel Defoe's "The Life and Adventures of Robinson Crusoe" is a classic work of adventure fiction that has captivated readers for centuries. Originally published in 1719, this groundbreaking novel follows the journey of Robinson Crusoe, a young Englishman who finds himself shipwrecked on a remote island, where he must learn to survive against all odds.

At its core, "Robinson Crusoe" is a story of resilience, resourcefulness, and the triumph of the human spirit. As Crusoe grapples with the challenges of isolation, harsh weather, and limited resources, he must rely on his ingenuity and determination to build a new life for himself on the island. From constructing shelter and hunting for food to taming wild animals and cultivating crops, Crusoe's ingenuity and resourcefulness are put to the test as he learns to adapt to his new surroundings.

Yet, "Robinson Crusoe" is more than just a thrilling tale of survival; it is also a profound exploration of the human condition and the search for meaning in a seemingly indifferent universe. As Crusoe grapples with the loneliness and existential despair of his solitary existence, he embarks on a journey of self-discovery and spiritual awakening. Through his encounters with nature, his reflections on his past mistakes, and his struggle to find purpose in his solitude, Crusoe undergoes a profound transformation that ultimately leads him to a deeper understanding of himself and the world around him.

Moreover, "Robinson Crusoe" is celebrated for its richly drawn characters, vividly depicted landscapes, and compelling narrative. Defoe's prose is both evocative and engaging, drawing readers into Crusoe's world with its vivid descriptions and immersive storytelling. From the lush tropical beauty of the island to the pulse-pounding excitement of Crusoe's encounters with cannibals and pirates, Defoe's vivid imagination and keen eye for detail bring the story to life with a sense of immediacy and realism that continues to resonate with readers today.

In conclusion, "The Life and Adventures of Robinson Crusoe" by Daniel Defoe is a timeless masterpiece of adventure fiction that continues to captivate readers with its thrilling plot, richly drawn characters, and profound themes. From its gripping tale of survival against the odds to its exploration of the human spirit and the search for meaning in a chaotic world, "Robinson Crusoe" remains as relevant and captivating today as it was over three centuries ago. With its enduring popularity and universal appeal, "Robinson Crusoe" stands as a testament to the power of storytelling and the enduring legacy of one of literature's greatest works.

Daniel Defoe's "The Life and Adventures of Robinson Crusoe" is available in Amazon in paperback 16.99$ and hardcover 23.99$ editions.

Number of pages: 367

Language: English

Rating: 10/10

Link of the book!

Review By: King's Cat (yummy lots of fishes)

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blueheartbookclub · 8 days

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Robinson Crusoe: A Timeless Tale of Survival and Self-Discovery

Daniel Defoe's "The Life and Adventures of Robinson Crusoe" is available in Amazon in paperback 16.99$ and hardcover 23.99$ editions.

Number of pages: 367

Language: English

Rating: 10/10

Link of the book!

Review By: King's Cat (yummy lots of fishes)

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justalittlesolarpunk · 8 months

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There is hope. I promise. Young people just won their case against the state of Montana. Ecuadoreans braved escalating political violence to vote against oil drilling in the Amazon. Brazilian deforestation is down by enormous amounts since Lula took office. They’ve invented hydropanels that synthesise pure water from the air. People are farming in solar parks. A ship just launched for its maiden voyage using rigid sails designed to mimic wind turbine blades. EV sales are taking off, and, more crucially, cities are re-assessing their very relationship with the car. By the 2024 Olympics the river Seine will be safe for people to swim in again. More and more people are replacing their gas boilers with heat pumps. Solarpunks are growing crops in their back garden and distributing them to their neighbours. Great tracts of land are being given back to nature. Young people are channelling their energies into meaningful careers. Pilots are leaving the aviation industry. Yes, the world is dark and terrible and full of awful dangers that keep you up at night, but we are a huge movement that grows every day in numbers and power. Your small actions matter. Our collective triumphs are increasing. Things are going to get harder, extreme weather will be more common, but with ingenuity, resilience and crucially, COMMUNITY, we can build an equitable world on this strange, tired old planet. See you in the future.

#solarpunk #hopepunk #environmentalism #cottagepunk #social justice #optimism #climate justice #community #bright future #tidalpunk

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omegaphilosophia · 9 months

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Unveiling the Thin Line Between Invention and Discovery: Unearthing Nature's Hidden Potential

In the realm of human creativity, the boundary between invention and discovery often appears distinct. Yet, upon closer examination, a thought-provoking perspective emerges—one that challenges the conventional understanding of new ideas. What if the act of bringing two existing concepts together to create something novel is not so much an act of invention, but rather a revelation of nature's latent potential? In this exploration, we delve into the intriguing relationship between human creativity, the inherent possibilities of nature, and the blurred lines between inventing and discovering.

The Interplay of Ideas: Consider the scenario where a being merges two familiar ideas to give rise to a fresh concept. The premise here is that the new idea draws from the existing elements, suggesting an underlying connection between the new and the old.

Nature's Prescience: As we delve deeper, a fascinating implication emerges. If the new idea is born from the amalgamation of pre-existing components, could it be that nature itself was already aware of the potential for this new creation? This perspective implies that the new idea, while seemingly novel, is rooted in the fabric of reality—a hidden potential waiting to be unveiled.

The Paradox of "Not Technically New": Following this train of thought, we reach a paradoxical realization. The new idea, although groundbreaking to our human perspective, is not entirely new to nature. The components existed, and their combination merely revealed what was already inherent. From this angle, the act of invention appears more as a process of discovery—a journey into the uncharted territories of nature's potential.

Unearthing Hidden Potential: This intriguing outlook offers a lens through which we can view human ingenuity. By combining and recombining existing knowledge, we tap into nature's wellspring of hidden potential. The new idea emerges as an emergent property, an unforeseen consequence of the interactions between known elements.

The Philosophical Tapestry: At the heart of this discussion lies the interplay between philosophy and creativity. The lines between invention and discovery blur, prompting us to reevaluate the dichotomy between human agency and the underlying framework of reality. This nuanced exploration delves into the rich tapestry of human thought and its intricate connection to the cosmos.

As we ponder the relationship between invention and discovery, we uncover a profound connection between human creativity and the vast expanse of nature's possibilities. The act of bringing forth new ideas, it seems, is more than mere invention; it is a revelation of what nature has quietly harbored all along. In the intricate dance of human creativity and the inherent potential of the universe, we find a harmonious symphony that continues to resonate through the corridors of innovation.

#philosophy #ontology #epistemology #metaphysics #knowledge #learning #education #chatgpt #psychology #Invention #Discovery #Creativity #Nature's Potential #Emergence #Philosophy of Creativity #Hidden Possibilities #Human Ingenuity #Novel Ideas

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francorebel · 1 year

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if that tree hears, it might hear its own sound nature

se quell'albero sente, potrebbe sentire il proprio suono

#nature #naturfotografie #trees #tree of life #ingenuity #curiosity #life #i love it

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ezukll · 1 month

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⠀⠀⠀ ⠀ ⚸ 𝐋𝐈𝐋𝐈𝐓𝐇 𝐒𝐈𝐆𝐍

⠀⠀⠀ ⠀ 𝐎𝐁𝐒𝐄𝐑𝐕𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐒 🖤

⠀⠀⠀⠀𝐋𝐈𝐋𝐈𝐓𝐇 𝐈𝐍 𝐀𝐑𝐈𝐄𝐒 ♈︎

The placement of Lilith in Aries indicates a primal and aggressive energy, a drive for independence and self-expression. This placement can bring out a fiery and assertive nature in a person, a relentless passion and a tendency to act impulsively and even aggressvely. With Lilith in Aries, one may experience intense emotions that push them towards action, a willingness to fight for their desires and beliefs, and a desire for autonomy. This placement can also bring out a rebellious spirit, a tendency to break with tradition, and an aggressive sexuality.

⠀⠀⠀⠀𝐋𝐈𝐋𝐈𝐓𝐇 𝐈𝐍 𝐓𝐀𝐔𝐑𝐔𝐒 ♉︎

Lilith in Taurus indicates a primal and possessive energy, a drive for comfort and safety. This placement can bring out a possessive nature in a person, a desire to cling to comfort zones and a tendency to be defensive or protective of their possessions and loved ones. With Lilith in Taurus, one may experience intense sexual desires, a need to nurture and be nurtured, and a drive to seek out comfort and pleasure. This placement can also bring out a possessive or controlling streak, a tendency to be stubborn and fixated on material possessions, and an intense emotional attachment to people and things.

⠀⠀⠀⠀𝐋𝐈𝐋𝐈𝐓𝐇 𝐈𝐍 𝐆𝐄𝐌𝐈𝐍𝐈 ♊︎

Lilith in Gemini represents a primal and intellectual energy, a drive for exploration and experimentation. This placement can bring out a curious and intellectual nature in a person, a desire to learn new things and explore different ideas. Lilith in Gemini encourages a love of learning and an open-minded approach to life. It can bring a sense of ingenuity and mental fluidity, a tendency to seek out new experiences and perspectives, and a desire to gain an understanding of the world through communication and the exchange of ideas. With Lilith in Gemini, one may experience intense emotions and an emotional attachment to their ideas and beliefs.

⠀⠀⠀⠀𝐋𝐈𝐋𝐈𝐓𝐇 𝐈𝐍 𝐂𝐀𝐍𝐂𝐄𝐑 ♋︎

Lilith in Cancer indicates a primal and emotional energy, a drive for security and nurturing. This placement can bring out a highly sensitive nature, a desire to feel safe and cared for, and a tendency to prioritize emotional comfort and protection over logic and rationality. With Lilith in Cancer, one may experience intense emotions that feel overwhelming, a desire for intimacy and a sense of belonging, and a tendency to be overly sensitive to their surroundings. This placement can create a desire for protection and emotional closeness, as well as an aversion to confrontation.

⠀⠀⠀⠀ 𝐋𝐈𝐋𝐈𝐓𝐇 𝐈𝐍 𝐋𝐄𝐎 ♌︎

Lilith in Leo represents a primal and passionate energy, a drive for power and self-expression. This placement can bring out a fiery and passionate nature, a desire to take center stage and be noticed, a tendency to be dramatic and to seek out attention. With Lilith in Leo, one may experience intense emotions that fuel a passionate and fiery personality, a desire to act with confidence and courage, and a tendency to prioritize their own needs and desires. This placement can also bring out a dramatic and even egoistic side, a tendency to want to be in control, and a need to be admired and praised.

⠀⠀⠀⠀𝐋𝐈𝐋𝐈𝐓𝐇 𝐈𝐍 𝐕𝐈𝐑𝐆𝐎 ♍︎

Lilith in Virgo represents a primal and analytical energy, a drive for perfection and attention to detail. This placement can bring out a critical and analytical nature, a desire to analyze and understand details, and a tendency to be perfectionist and fussy. With Lilith in Virgo, one may experience intense emotions that lead to harsh self-judgment, a tendency to blame and judge others for mistakes, and a desire to seek and attain perfection. This placement can create a strong work ethic, a tendency to overwork, and a desire to make meaningful and impactful changes.

⠀⠀⠀⠀ 𝐋𝐈𝐋𝐈𝐓𝐇 𝐈𝐍 𝐋𝐈𝐁𝐑𝐀 ♎︎

Lilith in Libra represents a primal and diplomatic energy, a drive to balance and harmony. This placement can bring out a diplomatic and peaceful nature, a desire to seek harmony and compromise, and a tendency to prioritize the needs of others over one's own. With Lilith in Libra, one may experience intense emotions that lead to indecision and a tendency to people-please. It can create a conflict between one's own desires and the desires of others, a tendency to over-compromise, and a need to seek balance and justice in all things.

⠀⠀⠀⠀𝐋𝐈𝐋𝐈𝐓𝐇 𝐈𝐍 𝐒𝐂𝐎𝐑𝐏𝐈𝐎 ♏︎

Lilith in Scorpio represents a primal and seductive energy, a drive for power and manipulation. This placement can bring out a highly intense nature, a strong desire for control, and a tendency to use one's sexual power to manipulate. With Lilith in Scorpio, one may experience intense emotions that lead to jealousy and possessiveness, a tendency to use their seductiveness to their advantage, and a desire to be secretive and controlling. This placement can create intense emotions that fuel jealous tendencies and a need for control, and can also promote a fascination with dark and seductive energy.

⠀⠀𝐋𝐈𝐋𝐈𝐓𝐇 𝐈𝐍 𝐒𝐀𝐆𝐈𝐓𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐈𝐔𝐒 ♐︎

Lilith in Sagittarius represents a primal and rebellious energy, a drive for exploration and change. This placement can bring out a rebellious and free-spirited nature, a desire to break away from conventions and authority, and a love of learning and expanding one's horizons. With Lilith in Sagittarius, one may experience intense emotions that feed a desire for exploration and adventure, a tendency to seek out new experiences rather than stay with what is familiar, and a curiosity for cultures and lifestyles different from their own. This placement can create a sense of freedom and passion, and a need to push boundaries.

⠀⠀ 𝐋𝐈𝐋𝐈𝐓𝐇 𝐈𝐍 𝐂𝐀𝐏𝐑𝐈𝐂𝐎𝐑𝐍 ♑︎

Lilith in Capricorn represents a primal and ambitious energy, a drive to achieve success and authority. This placement can bring out a pragmatic and goal-driven nature, a strong desire for success and recognition, and a tendency to take action rather than dwell on emotions. With Lilith in Capricorn, one may experience intense emotions that lead to a competitive drive, a tendency to set high standards, and a tendency to prioritize their own success over others. This placement can create a strong desire for power and material success, as well as a tendency to be overly critical and perfectionist.

⠀⠀⠀𝐋𝐈𝐋𝐈𝐓𝐇 𝐈𝐍 𝐀𝐐𝐔𝐀𝐑𝐈𝐔𝐒 ♒︎

Lilith in Aquarius represents a primal and revolutionary energy, a drive to seek change and break free from norms and conventions. This placement can bring out a rebellious and idealistic nature, a desire to bring about change and innovation, and a tendency to go against the grain. With Lilith in Aquarius, one may experience intense emotions that lead to a desire to be seen and heard, a tendency to rebel against authority figures and to fight for a cause. This placement can create a passion for justice and equality, a desire to create a better world, and a strong sense of individuality.

⠀⠀⠀⠀𝐋𝐈𝐋𝐈𝐓𝐇 𝐈𝐍 𝐏𝐈𝐒𝐂𝐄𝐒 ♓︎

Lilith in Pisces represents a primal and spiritual energy, a drive for escapism and transcendence. This placement can bring out an empathetic and intuitive nature, a tendency to be open-minded and embrace creativity, and a desire to explore the realms of the imagination. With Lilith in Pisces, one may experience intense emotions that lead to a desire to escape reality and seek out mystical experience. It brings emotional depths that can be overwhelming and difficult to handle, a need to explore different ways of looking at the world and seeking spiritual truths, and a desire to transcend physical limits.

⠀⠀⠀⠀

#astrology #zodiac #zodiac signs #astrology observations #lilith sign #lilith #lilith in aries #lilith in taurus #lilith in gemini #lilith in cancer #lilith in leo #lilith in virgo #lilith in libra #lilith in scorpio #lilith in sagittarius #lilith in capricorn #lilith in aquarius #lilith in pisces

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uncanny-tranny · 5 months

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Something that amuses me between knitters and crocheters is this... almost humble nature each craft has about the other. I couldn't imagine how one would knit, and I know some of the basics - and yet, I have met so many knitters who say crochet is impossible, and yet I find it to be so simple. There's just something charming about when one recognizes just how much skill, effort, patience, and care go into a craft, and to be humbled by just how incredible human ingenuity and creativity are

#art #fiber art #crochet #knit #i was watching a knitter who is trying to crochet and she was struggling with the foundation chain and...#...man that's how i would feel with a BASIC cast-on (maybe besides the crochet cast-on)#a knitter described knit as just... a bunch of open crochet loops and that made it much easier to understand knit #i love how knit looks because you can do these colour changes SEAMLESSLY in a magical way #I LOVE YOU FIBER ARTS - I LOVE YOU HUMANS I LOVE YOU PEOPLE <3

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frannyzooey · 8 months

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Short Days, Long Nights: 13

Joel Miller x f!reader

Series Masterlist

Rating: E (pregnancy sex, lactation, grief)

A/N: Thank you endlessly for being so patient with me while I've been on hiatus ❤ I'm gonna stay off for another couple weeks, but I didn't want to leave you hanging for too long. I appreciate every single person that has stuck with me on this! Thank you to @the-ginger-hedge-witch and @the-scandalorian for helping me with this one - you both are the biggest brains and the most wonderful writers and I am insanely lucky to have you on my team. Enjoy! ❤

Jackson.

The image of the map is burned into Joel’s mind, always present.

More concerned with your safety than anything, he knows you should leave, but as the weeks slip by, what picks at him more is that he didn’t have an answer to your question that day.

“Where are we gonna go?”

He should be one step ahead. He should be on top of the potential outcomes. He should have a plan, since that’s always been his role. Stepped up with one when he had Sarah, took care of Tommy before the Outbreak, and after, led their way in the QZ. After Tommy left, he still did it, even if he was going through the motions more than anything. Doing it has always been second nature, a means to survive.

You’d let his lack of answer drop because he knew you didn’t want to leave, and of course, he knew you shouldn’t. Not right now. But still - still - he should have had a plan for something he knew was bound to happen sometime. Blinded by the light of your fierce optimism and wanting so badly to believe in it, he simply…didn’t think about it. The first time that’s happened in decades.

You’re depending on him, and for the first time in a long time, he didn’t have an answer ready.

“Where are we gonna go?”

He doesn’t fucking know.

Wood dust floats to settle on the floorboards around his boots, and he runs a piece of sandpaper over the beam of rough lumber that rests across his lap. The rhythmic sweeps soothe his nerves, and he tries to focus on how good it feels to do something useful with wood again. Something familiar, the dry grain sliding against his palms. A task done because he wants to, instead of as a means to get by like so much else in his life.

This…this was for him, and for you.

The late afternoon sun streams through the window in the shed, not quite enough to dissipate the chill. Crisp air breezes in through the open door, the sweet smell of damp leaves blending with the wood and the tips of his fingers are cold enough to stop, but he doesn’t. He has to make the most of your nap times if he wants to get this done before next week.

Before Christmas - or the closest approximation to the date anyway, using your rudimentary calendar. Celebrating the holiday had been your idea, and like every other time when it came to something you asked for, he couldn’t say no. He said yes when you asked him to cut you a tree, nodded when you pointed to the one you wanted after a trek through the woods, helped you rip strips of red, moth bitten flannel that was worthless for clothing just to watch you tie bows to the end of the branches, as a means to decorate it.

He was impressed by your constant resourcefulness and ingenuity when it came to the things you’d been given, and at night, when the lantern shone on it and bathed the living room in a cozy glow, it almost did feel like Christmas time. The closest thing to it that he’s felt in years, anyway.

Placing the sandpaper on the floor and picking up a knife, his mind follows the trail marked on the map. Winding through woods and across open swathes of land, it passes right through your area and he knows it’s only a matter of time before someone else follows the first. He knows that man can’t have been the only one with a map.

He frowns, gouging the wood a little more forcibly as he works through a knot, and he pictures the curve of your cheek, the delicate line of your neck, the bright happiness in your eyes here. That Christmas tree, in the front room. Torn between the idea of the unknown being just as unsafe as being a sitting duck at the cabin, he is restless with the need to move. The urge to keep you tucked away and protected from the world spreads beneath his skin and grows stronger every day, along with your stomach.

It’s large enough that it strains against the shirts you’ve borrowed from him, and though you’ve started choosing large sweatshirts instead, it’s begun to push against those too. You’ve begun to sway when you stand in place, an unconscious rock as a means to relieve pressure on your lower back, and he pictures you doing the same with a baby in your arms as you stand next to the cradle that he’s been building.

When he thinks about leaving it behind only to gather dust as he drags you somewhere else, the image eats at him, reminding him too much of another room, left behind to rot.

Another life, upended by abrupt violence.

Guilt has always gnawed at him for so many things, and following the mental image of you holding a baby, he adds to the growing list: the idea of another child replacing the one he had.

He fixates on all the things he couldn’t do for her on that last day but also the things time has robbed from him: the image of her face, the sound of her laugh. The books she liked, the order in which she lost her teeth, the weight of her infant body in his arms. How much of that time he spent without her while trying to provide for her, and how here, he’s got all the time in the world for this new child. His new child.

More feelings; the knife gouging deeper. Looking forward to a holiday that can’t include her, nervously anticipating holding a baby that belongs to him, looking at you and what you’ve built together and being so fucking happy he missed his mark on that bleak day ten years ago.

Is it betrayal to feel joy?

He’s not replacing her. He knows that. He knows, and yet the guilt never stops and so neither do his hands nor his mind, both working on fixing other problems that can be fixed.

Jackson.

A bed for the baby.

–

“I know it would be cold, but I think I’d rather have snow.”

You look out at the sodden garden, the neat, large borders that surround it blending in with the damp landscape. The fence that Joel built the only visual marker of where it’s at, it’s prepped for winter, buried in a dense layer of leaves and compost. You absentmindedly finger the leaf of a plant you brought inside with you, sheets of rain sliding down the window.

“Not me,” he says. “Might look pretty, but it would be a whole lot more dangerous.”

The blurred, muted mash of colors outside all blend together, the world a canvas of dingy brown and bleak gray. Everything soggy and limp, everything saturated with wetness: at this very moment, you’d take danger over another day of this.

Turning away from the depressing sight, you watch him sort through a pile of loose screws and nails on the coffee table. His head bent in his task, his shirt pulls tight across his shoulders as he hunches over and nudges each piece of metal with the tip of his finger, sorting them. Listening to the pleasant clink of them being dropped into glass jars, you go back to watering the plants.

After a process that had you pouring over the gardening book for days, you left what you could in the garden in order to have a good base for the spring, but took the rest inside, to see if you could keep growing anything through the winter.

Mismatched buckets and pots, an amalgamation of anything that would hold enough soil to plant a seed in, it was an experiment for sure. Enough was stored in the pantry to get you through the winter if you stayed lean enough about rations, and Joel had been pushing his portions upon you like there was no tomorrow, constantly assuring you that he had plenty.

“What is this?”

Stopping to stretch his back with a groan, he’s picked up a loose, shapeless scrap of fabric off the couch.

“Wait –” you protest, setting the watering can down.

He frowns at it, turning it in his hands, and when you make a hasty grab for it, he keeps it out of your reach with a chuckle.

“This my present, honey?” His facial expression still puzzled, he tries to work out what it is.

“It’s for the baby,” you explain. Coming to stand next to him, you turn it upright. “See? This is the neckhole, and the arms go here.”

“.......And the legs?”

“I’m not that good at sewing, okay?” you defend yourself with a laugh. “I thought maybe their legs could just hang out in this little…sack area.”

You make a self deprecating face, looking to him for a reaction, and he fingers the bottom of it.

“That ain’t bad. You should see if you can tie up the bottom, you know, for a draft or somethin’.”

“I used all the spare laces on the pants. I tried to make some, but of course I don’t have elastic and I don’t know how big to make them around the waist for a button, so I thought I could just cut two holes and make like, a little belt so that it would grow with the baby and...”

Your words taper off when you realize he’s staring up at you with an amused expression and you let your shoulders drop in defeat. “This kid is gonna look like they’re from the eighteen hundreds, aren’t they.”

“I guess you would know, with the books you’re always readin’,” he says with a grin, and the stack of historical fiction next to your side of the bed comes to mind.

“Oh God,” you moan quietly to yourself.

Standing with a soft grunt, he bends to press a kiss to the crown of your hair.

“Don’t worry about it, honey,” he murmurs. “You about ready for bed? I’m gonna go do a final lap.”

Checking the perimeter of the cabin while you bank the wood stove for the night, he eventually joins you in the bedroom, bringing in the smell of cool night air with him. Already in bed, you’re propped against the headboard with your book in hand, and you admire him as he gets ready for bed himself: the edges of his curling locks catching the light in a glowing chestnut, the warmth held in his tanned skin as he peels off his shirt, the soft give of his still trim stomach as he pads over to bed. He climbs in, adjusting the covers around the two of you.

“What about Mae?” you ask absentmindedly, skimming the book in front of you.

He shrugs. “Not bad.”

You make a face at the reception. “What about….Lauren?”

Stretching out on his side to face you, he rests his hand on your bump, smoothing the fabric of your sleep shirt down. A small movement nudges underneath his palm, and the corner of his mouth lifts. An intimate, quiet moment, you keep reading while he chases the constant movements with his touch, his fingers splayed wide, searching.

“Always so squirrely at night,” he says, the words rounded with softness.

“Tell me about it,” you sigh.

You set your book to the side and slide down next to him as he reaches to turn off the lantern, and the two of you lay facing each other, your belly between the length of your bodies. His hand finds your stomach again, and you let yours rest over it, guiding his touch lower. Lower, until the tips of his fingers brush against the band of your underwear and also right where a set of feet (or hands) slide underneath your skin. The taut skin shifts with rapid movement, a sensation that never fails to mesmerize you, but it’s something else when he’s the one who gets to see it. Watching him experiencing it is your favorite.

“What about Margaret? I’ve always liked that name.”

He makes a face, telling you all you need to know. “What makes you so sure it’s gonna be a girl?”

You shrug, lifting the hem of your shirt so you can feel his skin on yours, and his hand slides right back into place.

“Have you thought of any names?” you ask quietly.

“I, uh…I was sorta thinkin’ about June.” His dark eyes flit up to yours. “After June Carter Cash. Or Pearl, after –”

“You wanna name my baby after Pearl Jam?” your eyebrows raise. You’ve heard him humming “Future Days” while working outside, you know the band is a favorite of his.

He grins at your reaction. “That a no?”

“I should have guessed it would be music related,” you tease with a smile, scooting closer. “I like June. It’s pretty.”

The gentle exploration of his touch soothes you, and you close your eyes to savor it.

“What about boy names?” you ask. “I can’t really think of any. It’s actually what makes me think it’s a girl, like she’s trying to tell me something.”

“I haven’t thought of too many either. Thomas, for my brother, maybe?”

“That’s a good one.” You yawn, and sleep softly rounds the edges of your words. “Are you ready for next week?”

The preparation of his gift has your hands aching and grasping one with the other, you rub the tender knuckles, working some of the soreness out. Wordlessly, he reaches for your hand and takes it into his own, kneading the joints.

“I think so. S’kinda nice, havin’ a Christmas.” His touch lingers on the tips of your fingers, warming them. “Too cold in here? I can put another log on if you want.”

“No, it’s just…they ache. They're so swollen they get stiff sometimes. I don’t think the damp is helping.”

You hear it now, peppering the window in the dark. The steady drum of rain on the window, the sound makes the room all the more inviting: warm and safe, his body heat radiating underneath the quilt. He keeps rubbing your fingers, his own larger hands cradling your smaller one, and akin to someone rubbing your back to sleep, the touch lulls you, your eyes fluttering shut.

“This good?” His mouth brushes lightly against your knuckles, his lips pressing against your fingers before he breathes warm air on them.

“Mmmm, yea.” Silent for a moment, you speak. “Joel?”

He hums in acknowledgement of his name, and you voice the nightly request you started asking him weeks ago.

“Tell me what you know.”

A prompt he’s seemingly ready for, he shifts to get comfortable, letting out a sigh. The motion similar to someone getting ready to tell a bedtime story, your reaction to curl tight next to him is the same.

The first time you asked him this, he barely remembered anything. Other memories taking their place, the finer details of pregnancy and birth were buried deep, most of them forgotten. He remembered the doctor's visits but not the frequency. The general concept of birth but not the stages. The pain, but as someone who didn’t go through it, he couldn’t tell you what labor actually felt like.

All guesses and long ago recollections, you took them because they were better than nothing. Tonight, he tells you about the night feedings.

“Babies, they uh…” he begins in his gravely, lowered voice, trying to speak softly in the darkness. “You know they eat every couple of hours or so for a while after they’re born. Weeks of it.”

You nod against his shoulder, listening to his deep drawl.

“I don’t remember much because when you don’t get a lot of sleep it all tends to blur together, y’know? But I do remember some of them. Peaceful, sometimes. Everything is so quiet and still, and there ain’t nothin’ but you and them, sittin’ together.”

He stops, and you reach up to brush your fingers along the edge of his jaw, just enough to let him know you’re listening. He sighs, a heavy, contemplative thing.

“They are so small in your hands. So small it’s scary. I remember bein’ so careful, always feelin’ like I was gonna accidentally hurt her, or –” his breath hitches, and he swallows hard. He’s silent for a moment, and your breath slows and evens out. “Anyway, they don’t let you get any sleep, not for a few months, but sometimes….sometimes, you don’t mind.”

Your body loose and relaxed next to his, you’re on the edge of sleep when the words tumble softly out of your mouth.

“Joel?”

“Yea?”

“I’m scared.” The confession is whispered into his bare skin, and you breathe in his comforting, familiar smell, the steady drum of his heart beating underneath your cheek. His hand is a weighty drag down the line of your spine, the feeling of it steadying you.

The wind blows outside, rain pelting the glass.

“I know, honey,” he answers. “Me too.”

–

Long after you’ve fallen asleep, he stays awake, his mind lost in a memory.

Her tiny body rigid with deceiving strength, he struggles to force her arm into a small sleeve. His hand is huge compared to her fragile arm, her skin downy soft under his palm, and moonlight shines through the window in her bedroom just enough to light the features of her scrunched, upset face. A small wail pierces the darkness, and succeeding in dressing her, he lifts her up.

One hand cupping her entire bottom with the other covering her back, he makes low shushing sounds with his mouth to soothe her, inhaling the milky sweet smell that clings to her skin.

“Hey baby girl, shhh. I got you. I got you.”

Her tiny face burrows into his chest, her body squirming until she gets comfortable, and he keeps soothing with low hums, his hand rubbing a slow circle over her purple pajamas as she settles.

Moving slowly so as not to disturb her, he sits down in the rocking chair and continues to hold her; the carpet plush under his bare foot that gently pushes off the floor. His sleep blurred eyes focus on the small turn of a glass butterfly that hangs from her window, the rounded curves catching the moonlight as she sleeps on his chest.

He lets the unearthed, vivid memory wash over him as his chest constricts, the pain suffocating. Finding himself in this position more and more since you started asking him about what he remembers, he closes his eyes and succumbs to the pain: worth it, to see her face again. To remember things he’d thought he’d forgotten.

The edges of the memory blur and crumble, his mind losing its focus on that purple room and on the cusp of sleep, he tries to grasp and hold on tight to the details until they fade away.

–

“Keep your eyes closed, okay? Wasn’t much to wrap with.”

Anticipation thrums through you, your features lax with fondness as you wait patiently on the living room floor with your eyes closed. A fire crackles in the wood stove next to you, shadows pooled in the corners of the living room where the light doesn’t reach, and you scoot a little closer to absorb more heat.

Never one to linger in bed, he’s been up since dawn, and when you awoke alone, there was a weighted, peaceful stillness in the air—a significance to the day that was at best, a guess. Still, you felt it all the same: through drinking tea with him on the back porch this morning, through reading on the couch this afternoon, through helping him prep the small feast you allowed yourselves for dinner.

You hear and feel a shift in the air when he comes to sit in front of you, setting your present at your feet.

“Okay, you can open ‘em.”

Laughter bubbles bright and loud when you see what it is.

“Joel Miller, you shouldn’t have.” Picking up the bottle of vinegar, you tilt it in the light to see how much is left: about half, which is a find indeed. “How long have you been hiding this?”

He shrugs, looking pleased with your reaction. “Not too long. I found it when I went to check out that last cabin. I know it’s not a lot, but I thought it would be useful.”

Vinegar means pickling, means cleaning, means acid for the soil of your plants that you moved inside for the winter, and even though the label is half peeled off and the contents might not be as potent as they once were, you have never been so happy to see a bottle of the stuff in your life.

“Thank you,” you say softly, leaning forward as much as you can, presenting your lips for a kiss. He gives you one, and you pull back, your mouth twisted in an apologetic pout. “This is a way better gift than what I got you.”

“That’s not true,” he argues. “You fixed my favorite jacket. Feels brand new.”

After snagging it on a tree branch while hunting, he had been so disappointed when he inspected the size of the rip when he came home. Handing it to you, he had declared it no good anymore and told you to use it for something else, but knowing it was his favorite, you’d been mending it in secret while he went out for the day. Textiles being a scarcity aside, that jacket was also your favorite: it’s the one he’s been wearing since you first started out; the sight of it comforting to you.

“I actually got you somethin’ else, but you’ll have to close your eyes again.”

You automatically squeeze your eyes shut, your hands playfully grabbing the air as you squirm on the floor, and the sound of his low chuckle makes you smile wider. Hearing the front door open and then close, you frown when the object he places at your feet sounds heavy.

“Okay, open em’ up.”

It’s immediate, the way your expression drops from delight into something more reverential. Your breath frozen in your lungs, you reach out and touch the smooth edges of the cradle. Tracing the perfectly fit together corners, you take in how small it is – so small - but perfect.

Your eyes lift to meet his, tears blurring your vision. “Did you make this?”

“Yea,” he replies softly. “I kept in the shed, workin’ on it when you were napping. I knew we needed somewhere to put her, so I thought –”

“Her?” Your fingers brushing along the neat edges, you look up at him with a small, watery smile, and he matches it with a soft one of his own.

“Sure, why not. You’ve convinced me.” Affection is open and obvious on his face, the lines that normally crease his forehead softened as he watches you look it over.

“This is…so much, Joel. It’s beautiful. I don’t even know how…I was thinking we’d have to put her in a dresser drawer or something, and I –” Overwhelmed with his thoughtfulness, you’re at a loss for words. “Thank you,” you eventually settle on, hoping the sincereness in your words expresses everything you feel.

“You look so surprised,” he says, teasing laced in his tone. “Did you really think I would get you just a half bottle of vinegar for Christmas?”

“I don’t know!” you laugh, a hitch in your breathing as you settle your emotions. “We can’t exactly go Christmas shopping, so I figured you did the best you could.”

He reaches to swipe a tear from the round of your cheek, and you chase the heat of his palm, leaning into it. “It’s been so long since I gave anyone a Christmas present. Glad I’m not totally out of practice.”

Gently sliding the cradle out of the way, you rise to your knees to give him a kiss.

“I love it.”

You kiss him again, his lips tinted red from the wine at dinner, and the bitterness sweeps through your mouth when he gifts you a slow slide of his tongue. The tentative heat held in his response passes to you, and swallowing his hunger, it spreads through your limbs to pool between your legs. Pressing forward, your hand reaches out for his shirt, and you deepen the kiss.

You hope it conveys everything you want to put into words but can’t: appreciation, love, gratitude. Keeping your mouth on his, you slip your hand around the back of his neck and threading your fingers up through his locks, you hold him in place, his hand grasping your elbow to steady you as a soft sound rumbles from his throat.

“I guess you really liked it.”

You just nod, pulling him in for another kiss, his familiar taste and scent filling your senses as he presses himself closer, and when you let out the catch of a moan in your throat, he pulls back just far enough for you to see hooded want in his eyes.

“We done with the gift exchange?” He presses a kiss to your your throat, his lips warm and delicate over the skin he finds and you nod, letting him taste.

“Here,” he asks, his mouth moving just below your ear, “or in the bedroom?”

“Here,” you breathe, cupping his whiskered cheeks to pull his mouth back to yours. Your hand slips between his thighs, finding him half hard under his jeans, and groaning into your mouth, he shifts on the floor to kneel in front of you. Your fingers work the buttons of his flannel open, pushing it from his shoulders at the same time he grabs the hem of your shirt to work it over your head and off. Undoing your bra, you fling it onto the floor as his hand reaches back to tug his t-shirt off in a smooth, overhand motion, and your hands drop to his belt buckle, tugging it open.

The back of your knuckles swipe through the line of coarse hair that leads under the waistband of his jeans, a slight shakiness to your movements betraying the need you feel, and it’s something he sees and rewards with another consuming kiss.

The rest of your clothes tugged off in a rush, he rests his back against the couch and guides you onto his lap, the soft inside of your thighs straddling the outside of his firmer ones. One of the only comfortable positions you’ve got left, it’s been your favorite because it gives him unfettered access to your breasts and when he palms them in appreciation, anticipation sends a warm thrill up your spine.

Using both his hands, he cups the sides of your jaw to draw you in, holding you in place while he opens your mouth with his, his tongue sliding smoothly against yours. His fingertips dig into the nape of your neck, one hand dropping to palm the plush weight of your breast, and you kiss him back even harder while he delicately teases your nipple with his thumb.

The calloused pad skims over the top of it, the contrast between the tender touch and the fierceness of his kisses making your head swim with arousal, and pulling back, he takes in your kiss-swollen mouth only for a moment before bending his attention to your breast.

Using the cradle of his hold, he pushes it up to draw the peak of it into his mouth, and your head tips back, a broken cry coming from your throat.

“Please. Please.”

He would give you anything – anything – you ask for, and this is no different. He laves his tongue over the peaked bud, dragging firm pressure over it as he draws it into his mouth, and when you dig your fingers into his hair and pull with a moan of pleasure, his hand cups the underside of your breast to push more in. Frenzied, rough, desperate for more, a deep groan slides out of his throat at the same moment you feel a strange, tingling sensation on your nipple.

Surprise shows in his brown eyes when they flick up to yours, and pulling back, you both stop.

“Was that –” you ask, and he looks down at your breast, his thumb dragging delicately along the peak.

“Yea, I think it was,” he answers, slightly mesmerized.

A drop of milky liquid hangs from the tip of your breast, and he wipes it away, smearing it on your soft skin. Another one takes its place, and his eyes flicker with interest.

“Holy shit.”

The words slip out faster than you can stop them, and the corresponding lift of his eyebrows makes you laugh, his own deeper chuckle joining your lighter one. He pulls you in for a kiss right as you’re leaning down for one, and you find there was no hunger lost while the moment was broken; instead it comes back even stronger as you wrap your arms around his shoulders and he holds onto your back with a splayed grip so fierce it makes you squirm.

Unsure of when you started grinding your hips against his, you work them slightly faster. Spread and wet on his lap, you’re so achingly empty right over where you can feel the heft of him pressing between your bodies, and fire lights under your skin with how much you want him to just take.

He’s been so careful with you, so considerate in his handling of your body these last few weeks. Always taking care of every need that you have, he’s done so with no less attentiveness, but you can tell that he’s been holding back—a telling rigidness to his muscles when he moves above you, a tightness to his strokes every time he fucks you as if he’s keeping his body in check to make sure he doesn’t lose himself. Missing the sharp edges to his love, you kiss him harder, and he groans as if in pain, his tongue sliding deep into your mouth. His beard rubs your chin raw, the pressure of his response forcing your body to tip back slightly in his hold.

“Fuck me,” you whine, the words breathless against his lips, and he groans again, breaking your kiss.

“Christ, honey, turn around.”

Desperate to follow anything he tells you to do, you grip his shoulder to steady yourself as you turn yourself around, your back to his front. His mouth is an immediate brush against the nape of your neck, a heady sensation that has you melting back into him, and his hands travel up your sides to cup your breasts, pulling at the peaks.

Your ass grinds in his lap, the thick, stiff line of his cock trapped between your bodies, and when you arch your back and lean forward in a silent invitation, he reaches down to line himself up. Easing yourself back down, the stretch is delicious but so tight it’s almost unbearable.

“Goddamn,” he groans over your breathless whine.

Wrapping your smaller hands around his thick wrists for purchase, you pull at your bottom lip with your teeth as you sink all the way down to the base, and when he’s fully seated inside you, he bands his arms just under your breasts in a tight hold, keeping you in place. You can feel how hard he’s breathing between your shoulder blades, his beard rubbing against your skin, and squirming in his lap with a soft sound, you start to roll your hips.

He’s so deep this way, so much deeper than he’s been in weeks, and taking a moment to get used to it with a couple of slick strokes down, you chase the thick, filling stretch of his cock. Leaning forward, you brace your hands on his knees, and the deep groan you hear from behind you makes you wetter; your body physically reacting to his wordless praise.

“You feel so fucking good, honey. So good.”

His hands traverse your back—one splayed wide to drag heavily down your spine, the other curled around your hip to guide your movements–and when you bend forward as much as your stomach allows, his hand drops to your ass, spreading you from behind.

“I wish you could see how wet my cock is. I want you to see how you’re soakin’ it.”

“I can feel it,” you moan, your hips working faster.

You can: every down stroke is smooth and audible, the tight walls of your cunt stretching around him to take him perfect and fluid every single time, and when you start to pull him deeper, he sits forward with a cinch, pulling you back towards his body. The solid, warm wall of his chest cages you in, his arm looping around your hip so his hand can reach your clit, and when he finds it, everything spreads warm and thick from your center outwards, your head tipping back to rest against his shoulder.

“There’s my girl,” he smiles when your body drapes pliant and loose against his, your hips chasing the pressure of his fingers. Forward into his touch and backwards onto his cock, you can hear him breathing heavy and low into your ear and your hands find his forearms to hold on tight, your nails digging into the thick muscles as you work yourself faster.

He rubs your clit in quicker, more precise circles, just right with the firm slip of two calloused fingers, and your thighs tighten in their tremble, your release a bright, shining edge that beckons.

When it happens, it breaks you – clamping tight around him as you’re suspended in a state of strained rapture, his hand comes up to cradle the base of your throat in a possessive hold while his other hand keeps working, and a second wave takes you by surprise, washing over your skin as you cry out. You can feel the wetness that soaks his fingers when he reaches down to feel where you’re stretched around him, letting out a groan against your skin.

His hand smears damply across your hip as he lifts you from his lap, slipping out as he guides you on to your hands and knees, and loose and pliant, you let him position you anyway he wants.

“Just a little more, honey. Just a little longer,” he coaxes.

Resting your cheek on the floor, you arch your back to put yourself on display for him as you catch your breath, but it’s stolen just as quickly when he gives you a rough, open mouthed kiss to your cunt. He eats you like a man starved, the wet muscle of his tongue flattening against you as he keeps you open with his hands splayed on your ass, and a deep rumbled groan is felt against the inside of your thighs when you reach back to tug on his hair.

His tongue dips deep inside you for a taste, and just when he pulls back, he goes in for more, like he’s changed his mind because he can’t get enough. Harder this time, more forceful, the action pushing your hips forward, and when you cry out, he’s dragging himself back, pulling away to position himself.

The heat of his body radiates along the back of your thighs, the thick tip of his cock notched against the slick dip of your entrance only for the barest of moments before he pushes himself in with a stroke of his hips, and you hear a hiss behind you, one you almost don’t catch over the low moan that spills out of your mouth.

“You’re so fucking tight,” he groans, his hips fitting neatly along your ass. He slides out and then back in, giving you time to adjust to his size. “I want – Christ – I want…can you take it harder for me?”

“Yes. God yes. Please.”

He answers with a rougher slide in, an audible muted pound of his hips against your skin. “You tell me if it’s too much, honey, okay?”

After turning your head and nodding so he can see you, he gives you another rough, smooth stroke in and then another one, each one filling you until the air feels like it’s being pushed from your lungs, and then he picks up his pace, letting out a low, heavy breath for every thrust. It sounds obscene: his rumbled, low groans and grunts, but you can barely focus on it for how sensitive you are to his thickness. Everything tighter, the fit is a snug, slick slide in every time, and you squeeze around him, earning you another hiss of appreciation.

“This pussy is gonna kill me,” he groans and then holds nothing back: his hips snapping against you with his hand resting flat on your tailbone, every jolt rocking your body forward.

Exactly what you asked for and what you’ve been missing, you let him know.

“It feels…it feels so good. God I’ve missed this.”

“Yea?” The word is a breathless growl, and you clench down on him again. “What about this? Did you miss this too?”

His hands wrapping around the inside of your elbows, he tugs you back and up until your back is arched with your ass in his lap and then he’s pounding into you.

“Joel!”

Faster and harder, his hips work ceaselessly behind you for a dozen strokes and when he comes, his fingers dig tight into your skin, your arms aching as he holds you in place to take every last drop. Panting behind you, his strokes slow into a rhythmic grind and sliding out, he eases you gently down onto the floor where you slump, your cheek resting on the fold of your arms.

Dazed and loose, with a content smile on your lips, you lay down on your side and he joins you, dropping to the floor. His arm slung over his eyes, you watch his pulse pound in his neck as he tries to catch his breath.

“So…was that also a Christmas present, or….?” you tease, the question coming out slow and saturated with contentment, and he laughs, a breathless thing that’s carefree and deep.

“Sure,” he answers, rolling onto his side. “Merry Christmas.”

The light of the flames dancing across your bare body, shadows slide over his tanned skin and the bluntness of his reply makes you laugh.

The two of you look at each other for a moment, his hand coming up to brush away an errant lock of hair from your temple. His hand glides down the length of your torso, coming to rest on the swell of your stomach and leaning in, his mouth meets yours.

Still smiling, you cup his cheek and with a slick slide leaking between your thighs, pull him closer to deepen the kiss.

#joel miller #joel miller x you #joel miller x reader #joel miller/you #joel miller/reader #pedro pascal character fanfiction

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