is 30 too old to be adopted

The series of interviews conducted by Dr. George Henry with lesbians in the ‘30s illustrates a contentment in the lives of many of these women that would have frazzled the censors had that picture been reflected in the media. Many of his interviewees were self-actualized individuals, living to their full potential in mutually productive relationships. They say things such as:

I’m doing the work [as an editor] I always wanted to do and I’m very, very happy. I’m very much in love with the girl too. We click… She has had the most influence for good in my life.”  — 20-year old white woman

If I were born again I would like to be just as I am. I’m perfectly satisfied being a girl and being as I am. I’ve never had any regrets.”  —  26-year-old black woman

Our relationship is just as sweet now [after eleven years] as in the beginning.”  — 29-year-old white woman

Since we have been living together our lives are fuller and happier. We create things together and we are devoted to our [adopted] baby.”  —  30-year-old white woman

I have a great confidence in the future. I think I’m going to be a very well-known artist… Homosexuality hasn’t interfered with my work. It has made it what it is.”  —  30-year-old white woman

Odd Girls and Twilight Lovers: A History of Lesbian Life in Twentieth-Century America, pg. 112 by Lillian Faderman

Tokabe and Gabi. Gabi is the child Temuki and Tokabe adopted after the timeline of The Rebel. Here Tokabe is around 30 years old I guess.

If I would make an after/side comic of Tokabe and Temuki, I would for the main part focus on how they raised Gabi and everything that happened after The Rebel. Gabi’s surname is Tokabe too btw.

Once I was 30 Years Old

Summary: Phil’s 30th birthday brings a flood of growing up-related anxieties, much to his dismay. Dan, however, knows just how to fix it: by recreating the day they met, swapping out Manchester for London–and with a surprise Phil never sees coming.

Word Count: 4.4k

Genre: Fluffy angst

Extra tags: Comfort, domestic

Warnings: Some anxiety/worry? Otherwise none

Read on ao3

A/N: Okay, I know it’s not actually Phil’s birthday yet, but I really, really wanted to use this idea and I just couldn’t wait. I hope you enjoy this giant fluff-fest, it made me really happy to write!

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You know what  happens when you are the only female child and/or the only responsible child?  Your parents keep giving you old family stuff.  Please keep this.  Someone may want it one day.  Translation:  your brothers are too irresponsible and wrapped up in their own lives to realize they may want this so you shall be keeper of the stuff.  This includes their birth certificates, adoption records etc.  Until they are much much older (think 30s) and suddenly realize they may want it.  But then there is other stuff like pictures and scrapbooks etc.

And you haul it around for decades until you reach the point of:  Why am I dragging this stuff around?  It’s sitting in boxes collecting dust.  Screw this.

And then begins the daunting task of looking at everything.  Is this worth anything?  Cause if it is, guess who’s gonna sell it and keep the $$ for the decades of hauling and storage!  Ha!  Secondly, can I pitch it?  Then comes will anyone really want this?  Can I donate it?  Is it useful?  Then you ponder – well the siblings and nieces certainly didn’t look for it when the parents died and didn’t seem interested in anything that wasn’t a picture of them or they thought it was worth money.

Then the epiphany.  I’m donating it to historical organizations that care.  They will want these old high school records from when my Mom was in school.  they will want old newspaper articles about various organizations my parents or brother was participating in 50+ years ago.  Donating and preserving history is the right thing to do.

Island Escape: Part 14

Originally posted by wanjacks

JJ Project Series

Warning: Contains smut

Teaser  Part 1  Part 2  Part 3  Part 4  Part 5  Part 6  Part 7 Part 8  Part  9       Part 10  Part 11  Part 12  Part 13  Part 15  Part 16  Part 17

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Just Saying

Requested by @tryingtofindaplaceinthisworld 

                                                  _____________

“What’s taking her soooo long?” Dean groaned, thrashing about in his seat at the back.

“Now now Dean, patience, okay kiddo?”

“Hmph! This sucks,” he said sadly, sounding more juvenile as he spoke. “No more appearances again with a pregnant woman, I refuse, I don’t want to be a part of it,”

“You suggested it,”

“I’m me, y'know how I get. I didn’t think she’d change her dress four times and take two years to do her hair and make-up,”

“I have to live with that for five more months,” Roman said, but there wasn’t an ounce of dread in his voice.

“I wouldn’t put up with it, I don’t see why she turned down the help with make-up and hair,”

“Go ahead Dean, go in there and tell her that,” Roman laughed remembering how she nearly physically assault him when he kept insisting that she should have a team help her get ready.

“What are you saying I’m now incapable of looking after myself?”

Mouth gaped and startled, Roman shook his head no at his fuming wife. “No, nah…uh, just thought-”

“No, you are embarrassed of me. You don’t want to be seen with me, you want a professional team to mask the ugly, so go on without me then,”

“No it’s not that, I was only suggesting, I thought it’d be too much to do it all yourself,”

“I’m 30 years old and very capable of looking after myself; that includes dressing myself up and doing my own hair and make-up,”

“You’re right baby, I’m sorry,” he gave in; his mom was right; apologise, even when you’re right is the secret to making it alive with a pregnant woman.

“Yeah well you chose to marry her and couldn’t keep your dick in your pants,” Dean said quietly.

“No regrets. Try it one day, it’s fun,” Roman urged.

“No thank you, I’m put off. Rene and I will adopt, thanks though for caring. Now, can you call that wife of yours please? I wanna goooo!”

“Nah, I’m not doing it but you can call her,” Roman said shaking his head and looking at his best friend through the rearview mirror. “I’m tryna not get shouted at this evening,”

“See, even you’re scared of her. She’s like Godzilla,”

“Alright calm down man, she’s not that bad,” Roman said, because all jokes aside, that was his wife. “Just stop tryna wind her up. You like watching her freak out and then complain when she does, just leave her and she’ll be nice to you…there she is, now be nice. Shower her with compliments.”

“That’s your job. You scared of her man?”

“Sometimes,”

“Me too man, we gotta look out for each other tonight, alright? Can’t let her see that we are scared,”

“You’re being a little dramatic now,”

“Aye, I’m looking out for you brother. I can hide with Rene, so I’m good. If you don’t need my help cool, good luck.”

Roman glared at him through the mirror, but ran out of time to lecture him because his wife was getting too close, so he walked out of the car to help her wiggle into the vehicle.

“You all set?” he asked as she climbed in, holding the door open for her.

“Thank you baby, that Saint Laurent wouldn’t even zip up, the shoes…let’s not even go there. I’ve expanded in every way possible,” she frowned and then pouted.

“And that’s okay, it’s supposed happen isn’t it?”

“You just wanna get laid tonight,” she smiled up at him.

“Yes, but that’s not it. You know that,” he said grinning back before shutting the door and walked around the car to his side.

“Hey Dean,” Y/N turned around to face him.

“Hey again in your fourth dress, how you feeling?”

“Same ol same ol, sorry I took long. Had to change my make up to match the dress, nothing fits anymore,” she said just as Roman climbed into his side and started up the car.

“Aaw poor thing, you look fine though. What happened to the gold dress you were lusting after the other…” Dean’s voice gradually faded at the sight of Roman in the rearview mirror signalling him to stop talking.

“It doesn’t fit anymore,” she said hotly.

“But you just bought it a week ago, jheeze, you’re piling it on quicker than Roman does-”

“Dean, where are we picking up Rene from?” Roman said intervening, his friend obviously oblivious to any hints he’d thrown out there.

“I am fat aren’t I?” she said to Roman, catching him offguard with her watery eyes. “You lied to me, so I’m guessing I look like a fucking hot dog in this dress, I’m not going,”

“Whoa whoa baby,” Roman said reaching out to her, but she shook him off, jerked the door open and shot out. “Shit!”

Roman slammed his fist on the steering wheel and rested his forehead against it for a few seconds, trying to regain control of the situation.

It was evident as she walked that the heels were slowing her down, making it look less dramatic than she wanted it to to emphasise her rage.

“Well done genius,” Roman kissed his teeth and sucked in air. “Now we ain’t ever making it to this thing, she’s gonna have to find another dress and redo her hair to match it again. Plus you’ve made her cry so that make-up’s gonna need to be redone,”

“What do we do?”

We? As usual, I gotta go fix it,”

“Hey sweetie,” Roman said carefully, approaching her.

Y/N ignored him, turning her back to him, face furious as she dug in her bag for the house keys.

“Go away and laugh at me with Dean,”

“No one’s laughing at you, ignore him. You look fine. There’s nothing wrong wih you,”

“I could look better though isn’t it?”

“No, I don’t see anything wrong with you,”

“Yes you do, don’t lie. I feel like a balloon, so I must look like one,” she said sadly, gesturing to her small belly.

“Look, I don’t expect you to look the same pregnant as when you’re not. It doesn’t make sense. If you’re freaking out now when you’re still small, then what more in a few months?” she chewed on her bottom lip, his words sinking in. He was right.  "I love how you look like this, it’s a beautiful reminder everyday of what we have, what we have created and what we have to look forward to. Don’t let people’s insecurities doubt how you look, because you are fine. And by fine, I mean, damn you fine,“

She started cracking; a smile teasing at her lips. She was blushing too.

"You’re after something,”

“Not even, can’t a man compliment a woman - his wife without an ulterior motive?”

Now there was the one of the reasons why she married him. The man loved her to pieces, and always made that known.

Y/N smiled fully, no point fighting it now, his charm worked.

“Okay, you’re right.”

“Good,” he wiped off a stray tear with his thumb. “Now can we go, please? Because your man’s hungry right now, y'know me when I’m hungry,”

“Yes Incredible Hulk, we can go,” she placed her hand in his and they walked back down the path together towards the car.

“Heeeey, you made it,” Dean greeted as they climbed  into the car.

“Yuup, and you’re gonna sit there and be quiet,” Roman instructed.

Dean frowned, considering it momentarily. “Mhhh, yah, I guess I can do that,”

“Great, let’s go,” Roman said starting the car back up.

“You know what would be funny after all this?” Dean started as they drove away, his laugh bubbling up. “Is if someone else was wearing the same dress,”

“Deaaaan,” Roman groaned as he imagined the look on his wife’s face.

One look at her and his fear was confirmed.

“What?” Dean shrugged. “It’s just hypothetics,”

amaronith  asked:

Luna, everything is terrible and I am perilously close to hitting the point of being TOO STRESSED to do anything but sit and cry. Can I get a cute little fic where there Avengers collectively adopt Spider-Man (at any age. The hilarity of the Avengers deciding a 30 Year Old Peter Parker is their Smollest Son is not lost on me)? Or any other younger super hero? Pretty please?

oh no :( let me know if there’s anything i can do to help.

“He’s mine now,” Tony declares.

“You’ll have to fight me for him,” Steve warns and a tiny smile tugs at the corner of Tony’s mouth.

“Um, excuse me, if I belong to anyone it’s Gwen,” Peter says.

Tony waves away his protest easily. “Package deal. She’s ours too.”

“Oh, now we’re sharing?”

“No fighting,” Tony says and the smile in his eyes spreads to the rest of his face when Steve slips an arm around his waist and pulls him up against his body.

“If this is what having a Mom and Dad is like, I think I’ll pass.”

“Don’t forget your Aunts and Uncles,” Clint calls from the other end of the jet.

Peter groans. “I am thirty years old, I do not need to be adopted!”

“Just try and stop us,” Tony says cheerfully.