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Care - Blog Posts
Self-harm awareness day
Today is self-harm awareness day. It is a very important day for me as a former self-harmer, and when I was at my lowest I thought no one knew how I felt, but now I know better. This is a day for people to learn more about the causes of self-harm and the risks. Self-harm is no different than any other unhealthy coping mechanism like drugs, alcohol, and many others. Just because someone self-harms does not make them any different from an addict that needs help. So, if you are a self-harmer and If you’re not sure where to turn, call the S.A.F.E. Alternatives information line in the U.S. at 1-800-366-8288 for referrals and support for cutting and self-harm. If you know a self-harmer, or just want to be more aware click here for more information.
Thing I said to my friend but I think more people need to hear it :
"I think we all have to remember that we share this world with one another. The world doesn't belong to anyone of us, individual or organisation. We are merely living here and we should treat the world and every creature that lives in it with respect."
I think this reigns true, especially now with all of the cruelty in the world. People always think about power and how they can influence as many people as possible to do their bidding. I think this is the wrong way to think. No one, not even the most powerful people, own the world and I don't think anyone should. The world has always been ours to share and care for.
Let's keep it that way and continue to respect one another and the world we live in.
i know we're all sick of self-care being a marketing tactic now, but i don't think a lot of us have any other concept of self-care beyond what companies have tried to sell us, so i thought i'd share my favorite self-care hand out
brought to you by how mad i just got at a Target ad
Hey guys, it's been a year sorry I haven't posted in like uh... I don't how long, but my auntie has unexpectedly passed away, Is it okay if you guys can help us out to give the funeral my auntie always wanted, please we really need the help and do whatever you can share the link or Donate if you are able, anything works, so please with the kindness of your hearts, thank you and lovely day or night, wherever you are in the world, may you and family be safe and filled with lot of love ❤️🩹
Gofundme link here
screaming, crying, throwing up, as I force myself to write a story i'm very passionate about and love writing and have no obligation to write except that i want to
Ok I feel like you guys deserve something so... have a story I guess.
Random Loubby thing I drew, and story I’m making up on the spot.
(What a title)
Quick Note: They’re like, 17 or so here. Ok? Ok.
——————————————————
Webby was walking through the manor, being her awesome Webby self, when she heard something. It sounded almost like... surpressed gasps of pain.
She followed the sound for a minute or so, and it led her to the 2nd guest bathroom on that floor. The door was opened slightly. Peeking in, she saw Louie standing there, with his back to her. He was crying and leaning over the sink, running the water over his left arm.
“Hey Lou, you ok?” Webby asked, entering the room. Louie, surprised by her presence, quickly turned around, holding said arm behind his back.
“Yeah, totally.” He replied, his voice strained and his face twisted into an unconvincing smile. He rubbed his eyes dry with his right sleeve. “Why wouldn’t I be?” Webby raised a concerned eyebrow.
“What’s behind your back?” She asked.
“My arm.” Louie replied. Webby looked him in the eye for a second.
“Show me.” She said firmly. Louie chuckled nervously, fidgeting his arm behind his back for a second, before holding it out in front of him. The sleeve was rolled back down.
“See? Nothing out of the ordinary!” He said as cheerfully as he could. Webby sighed, grabbing his arm and rolling the sleeve up. Louie winced in pain. Who could blame him? There were 3 large gashes up his arm, and a few more small ones scattered among them.
“Louie, we talked about this!” Webby reminded him gently. Louie sighed shakily.
“Please don’t tell Webs.” He begged, rubbing his eyes on his sleeve again. Webby sighed again.
“I won’t.” She promised, pulling him with her out of the room. “You’re just lucky no one’s home.” She pulled him down to the kitchen and made him sit down at the counter while she got out a first aid kit.
“It’s not that big a deal Webby.” Louie told her irritably as she pulled his arm out to treat. “They’re just cuts.”
“They’re not ‘just cuts’ Louie.” Webby replied worriedly, grabbing the disinfectant from the kit. “They’re cuts you gave yourself. That’s not healthy!” She pressed a cotton swab on the largest cut, causing Louie to wince again and his eyes to water.
“Ow!” He exclaimed.
“Sorry!” Webby said quickly. “But I need to clean them!”
The next few minutes passed in silence, aside from Louie’s wincing from the pain. Finally, Webby wrapped his arm in bandages and tied them tightly.
“There.” She said quietly. “Now they’ll heal, and as long as you’re in long sleeves, no one will see.”
“Thanks.” Louie mumbled, rolling his sleeve back down. He groaned and put his head down on the counter.
“You just put your face in your blood.” Webby pointed out, lifting his head back up gently. His face was splotched with bits of crimson.
“Cool. Can you tell me when I care?” Louie asked miserably. Webby sighed and wiped his face clean with a damp cloth.
“You can’t keep doing this to yourself Lou.” She said with a concerned voice, sitting next to him.
“I can as long as there’s scissors in the mansion.” He replied. “And even without those, there’s always knives. Maybe even a good old fashioned sword.”
“Why though?” Webby asked.
“I don’t know, ok?” Louie snapped back, turning away from her. He felt a few hot tears run down his face again. “I don’t... know.” He repeated shakily.
“Look at me Louie.” Webby said firmly. He sighed and turned back around, looking her in the eye. “Louie, I know what you’re thinking.” She said after seeing the self-hatred in his eyes. “Don’t you dare believe it.”
“I...I can’t help it.” He replied tearfully.
“Lou,” Webby started, putting her hands on his shoulders. “You are an amazing person. You’re smart, you’re kind, and you are IMPORTANT. And I love you just the way you are, no matter what.” Louie rubbed his eyes on his sleeve again and sniffed. Webby pulled him into a tight hug.
“I love you too.” Louie replied quietly over her shoulder. She pulled away and kissed his forehead.
“I know you do.” She assured him with a smile. “But you need to love yourself too.” Louie’s eyes dropped to the floor.
“I can’t.” He replied. “I can’t find anything about me worth loving.”
“Then look harder.” Webby told him. “Because I see all of it every day.”
——————————————————
Ok, well, there you go.
adorable dad thing today: watching the man cook
for context, when he was a young college student he worked at a fancy restaurant in the middle of nowhere. From time to time he pulls out his skills from that restaurant whether it's cooking or random waiter things or whatnot. He absolutely loves cooking. He's so good at it too.
And, I don't know, there's just something about it. Him opening the oven to pull out three pans of golden beautiful enchiladas made with such specificity and love. Enough to feed his family for two days and also a couple of young adults who were stopping by for food. The love. Small batch huge heart. So much care.
He used to hate complex foods. He used to be a horrible picky eater who didn't like tomatoes or mushrooms or anything red or anything grown up. (This was before I knew him, but I know stories.) He used to hate cooking. And then, to be a dad, he learned. He learned for work to support his family and then he learned for love to feed his family. And decades later he's still at it. And it's incredible. I cannot fathom food as good as my dad's.
Forget adorable. My dad is precious.
dis will help my trans friend
Summer swimming tip for trans guys and Non binary folks!
I almost didnt go swimming or to the beach all summer because of how anxious and uncomfortable just thinking about being in a wet t shirt and sports bra would make me.
But this company saved me. They’re called Outplay and seem to be mainly advertised towards females but not to the point where navigating the website is unbearable. The flatsea compression shirt is the most comfortable binder I’ve ever worn. Its thicker than a bathing suit but doesnt make you overheat and you dont stay wet longer than normal after getting out of the water either.
I got a size small and with high compression and couldnt be more happy with the results. Its comfortable enough to wear all day at the beach and is more comfortable to wear as a regular binder. My weight has also fluctuated while I’ve owned this binder and when my stomach was bigger the material didnt roll at all. It will run you about $65 (shipping included)for a great transitional binder and it seemed worth it to me.
I want to be your safe harbor.
Craving your body, bathed in the moon's light.
Every curve, slipping into dark shadow.
Barely able to make out the look in your eyes, all I see is the gleam in the dim light.
Oh how I want to pull you apart.... Remove every stitch of fabric... Bend your body how I desire... Worship every inch of the woman for as long as I can.
Love (creepypasta)
This is not meant to scare anyone. Calling it a creepy story would be a bit of an insult, because it isn’t one. This is an expression of gratitude toward a friend, a friend who was always there for me. He watched over me as I was growing up and was the best friend any kid could ever have. Even if I didn’t recognize it at the time. He was always there, even though I couldn’t see him, and he was always acting in my best interests, even if I couldn’t understand. I’d like to take some time to share with you our story, because if you’re lucky, you might have a friend like this too. I think I should let you read his letter first. In May of 2010, I bought a new computer and took my old one to the shop to have everything backed up. I’d brought the new computer home and had begun restoring my files from my portable hard drive and reinstalling programs when I noticed that there was a file in the Misc. folder that the shop’s technician had created for files with no other place. It was called HappyBirthdayBaby.txt. Initially I thought it was a message my mom had written for me that I’d never read as intended, but I opened it, and this is what I found: You might find this one day… I’m not great at this computer stuff, but I’ve watched you tinkering with this machine lately, and I think I know how to save this so that you’ll find it. Seeing as it’s time for me to go, I want to leave you this last little message. I know you never met your father, but to me he was Col. Marcus Andrew Stadtfleld, as I’m sure your mother told you. He was a good man, one with the pride of a lion, the strength of a bear and a heart of pure gold. Truth is, I was almost like his son long before you were born. I was his second in command and served with him for three years. I watched as your mother wept when she heard the news, her belly swollen with your soon-to-be debut into this world, and I stayed with her every second of every day. That was, until the day you came into the world- then my focus shifted to you. I watched as they cleaned you and handed you to your mother, and she seemed to look right at me with a knowing eye as I stood over the both of you, almost as if she’d known along, and I’d be willing to bet my last penny she did. I’ve watched you grow and I remember everything, even the things you don’t. You always were such a happy baby and you had seemed to have inherited your father’s sense of humor. When you were getting to be four months old, you would do just about everything to hinder your mother’s attempts at changing you, laughing all the while. You were a wild one at heart, just as you are today. Just like Marcus. When you were about six months old we would play all the time. We had one game in particular, where I would grab your toes and tickle your belly. You would love it, though when your mother came in l’d have to stop, and it always perplexed her as to why you’d abruptly start crying- after a while, she seemed to think you didn’t like her, which is when I realized that I had to back away some. When you were one year old you seemed to develop a sixth sense for me and although you couldn’t really see me so much or so well anymore, you knew I was there. I couldn’t play with you as much as before because I knew it would only hurt you in the long run, but I always kept guard. I knew you remembered seeing me because you had a way of testing my presence, you’d throw toys into the corner where I stood and then wait to see if I would play with them. Now, I know you won’t remember this, but once you threw a bear and a ragdoll at me, and because your mother was busy in the kitchen making dinner, I kept you entertained by putting on a little show. It was nothing special, I just made them dance a little. You were laughing loudly and your mom came in to see what was so funny, but when she saw, she wasn’t laughing. I bet you could mention the bear and ragdoll dance even today and the colour would run right out of her cheeks, but do me a favor and don’t. I think it would be kinder to ask if you ever threw the toys into the corner, that isn’t quite as bad a memory for her as the dancing is. Do you remember your first word? I do… “Love.” Hahah. your mother made damned well sure you knew just how much you were cherished by her, every moment of every day and she would always say, “Love you baby…” I remember you tugging at my heart strings something awful once, when your mother was changing you in the bathroom this one time. You seemed to have caught my reflection in the mirror behind her, and you pointed and said Love (well, more of a wuv, but your mother knew), and she laughed and affirmed it. It was your only word for a time, but as I walked out of the reflection you started getting restless and I knew again that I had to be more stealthy. You were growing more and more every day now, and I couldn’t afford to break my promise to your father, which is why I would have to retreat yet again. I broke the rules many times to protect you, for that promise to your father was everything to me. I remember when you were three and had mastered walking, you were a regular little scout, hahah. You could never keep still- those little legs had opened up a whole new world to you and you weren’t shy at all about exploring it. One day you were with your mother in the market, and a lady with a shiny purse caught your eye. You went running after her, just as another shopper was running with her trolley in front of her, coming the other way. She didn’t spot you, and because you were running after the purse, you didn’t see her either. Breaking the rules was not allowed, but allowing you to get hurt wasn’t permittable either. By the time you noticed her it was already too late, and you fell on your bottom before you could scamper out of her way. Left without any other option, I sent that trolley flying Into the side of a freezer and as it crashed, that woman screamed blue murder, “A-A-A man in a uniform!” she screamed. You simply giggled as the crowd gathered and your mother came running. When she found you at that scene you were safe and sound, and you pointed to the trolley that had smashed the freezer window. You know what you said to her then? “Love mommy.” I was hiding by then, embarrassed to have created such a scene, though I have to admit I was laughing on the inside. As you grew and became more aware so did I, and I finally knew when I could and couldn’t intervene. Doing too much would hurt the both of us, so I chose my moments carefully. You were a smart kid, just like your father, and most of the time knew how to handle any and every situation. If there was an option, you took it, though I slipped up a few times as you were growing up, I do think I did well to keep an eye on you. It was just the little things to make your life a bit easier, things you probably won’t remember, like putting your piano music sheets into your bag at night, turning off your television when you fell asleep, pulling the sheets over you on the colder nights, sorting your drawers, setting your alarm clock, closing your windows and door… You caught me doing one or two of these things a few times, and I want to take the time now to apologize for scaring you. This one time you were doing your homework and fell asleep at your desk, so I filled In all the answers for your math quiz. You’d made such a fuss to your mother earlier about how strict the teacher was about homework and I knew you knew the answers anyway, but you suspected more than ever when you woke up and found that whole half a sheet you left incomplete was done. You were older and had forgotten that we were friends, things you saw in the media about ghosts scared you- and you had every right to be afraid. I just want to say I’m sorry. I never meant to make you cry. If only I had taken a little extra care you’d never have known. I just wanted to keep you safe and happy. As you matured you began to take form as a little lady and as such, and you began to know the evil of men. Though you had your wits about you, you were always taking stupid risks, and watching over you became a little more of a worry for me. Gradually, I had to expose myself more and more, most memorably that night when that no-good boy you brought home started putting the moves on you. Your mother was at work, he was only after one thing, and although I knew it wasn’t my place to choose for you, you were still only a baby girl, just fifteen years old… As he got on top of you and started undressing you, took his top off and began whispering those sweet nothings, your face said it all. You were scared. And when you told him to stop and he wouldn’t, and when you tried to push him off and he got angry, when he struck you and finally tried to put his hand up your skirt, all the evil I kept inside of me broke free at that moment and it was something I couldn’t control. My rage boiled over as I began to growl, the lights flickering, the TV volume rising, the doors and windows crashing open and shut. The keys on your piano began to rattle and with your fathers roar, I yelled, “Get out of the house boy!” He ran out of that room and you tried to follow, but I slammed that door in your face and wouldn’t let the handle go until your mother pulled into the driveway… I’m so sorry kid, that whole thing traumatized you for a while… You became more frightened of me than ever, having such an experience, and I knew from then on in spite of how much I loved you, we could never be friends. Not after what I’d done. Some nights you used to sit awake late into the evening, watching for me, and I’d have to sit in the darkest corner, looking right back at you, unable to reassure you that I wasn’t here to cause you harm. You used to scream, “I hate you! Get out! Leave me alone!” And just as you used to do as a toddler, you would throw things into my corner, only instead of toys for me to play with, this time it was heavy books, CD cases, anything you could get your hands on to get me to move. You used to sit in your bed watching that corner… I always felt terrible about what I did. I’d almost broken that promise to your father- but more importantly, I’d almost broken the personal promise I’d made to you. It was like that until the night you tried to make peace with me, that night you sat up in your bed and said, “If you’re here, I’m sorry, you were only trying to stop him…” I wanted to say something, but I couldn’t, even as you shuffled around nervously and called, “You’re here right? Could you show me a sign?” I wanted so badly to give you something, anything to show you I was there and that I’d heard that, but fearing that you would lose it if I did, I kept silent and just nodded, in that dark corner where you couldn’t see me.. You have to know I was never mad at you, you were just a little girl and that little prick tipped me over the edge… Promise me you’ll never do anything like that again, won’t you? It’s your eighteenth Birthday today, which is exactly why I’m writing this to you. I want to wish you a happy birthday. I’m sure your dad’s getting sick of keeping that bar stool open for me. Live a good life, try not to forget about me, and know you turned out great. Your father would be so proud of you. This letter is my present to you, and don’t you worry about the spooky corner anymore, my final order is complete. I don’t know about you, but I think this trooper deserves a drink; you sure were a handful, hahah! If you find this one day, try calling out to me. Take care, be safe, and live a happy life. Love, Lt. Ashley Gilchrist. PS. If you call out my name, call me what you used to call me as a kid, that always got me to come running. I was gobsmacked when I read this letter; everything finally made sense. All the things that happened when I was growing up. I’d always thought I was seeing things until that day when my ex-boyfriend almost raped me. I’ll be the first to admit that I was scared of him, because I didn’t understand what he was, why he was there or what he was after, but now I see that I had it all wrong. A few days after reading the letter, I asked my mom a few questions about the spooky things that happened when I was growing up. She was very nonchalant about the whole thing- until I mentioned what happened in the market. There, she stopped cleaning, set down her cloth, turned to me and smiled. “You always had a guardian angel watching over you, honey. I don’t know if it was your father or not, but who or whatever it was, it made sure nothing bad ever really happened to you.” As she turned around and began cleaning the dishes, she asked, “So I guess you met it then, right? Your spirit friend?” “Not exactly, he left something for me.” I went upstairs, brought my laptop down and showed her the letter on my computer. My mother was crying by the time she finished and she told me all about my dad’s friend… “He was a kind boy… Marc brought him home once to meet me and he had a certain thing about him. That man was as loyal as a dog to your father, he had a love and respect for him that even I was intimidated by at times… When he came to our home on leave, Marcus nearly had to order him to make himself at home, and he even had to be asked to take his uniform off. He looked up to Marcus almost like a boy looks up to his father. I don’t really know his background but I remember your father telling me that he was a good drinking partner, a fine soldier, and an invaluable friend.” She took a deep breath and choked back a few of her tears before continuing on. “They found that poor boy and your father all alone in a building that had been overrun by their enemy. They’d been out on recon, and their team got separated when they came under fire. The rest of the boys on your father’s team survived, but those two weren’t so lucky… The way they found them was peculiar,” she swallowed heavily, looked me right in the eye and said, “That boy was found on top of your father, riddled with bullets… he was shielding him right up until the moment he died. He could have gotten away but he refused to leave your injured fathers side.” With that we both burst into tears… Love. That’s exactly what he was, he was a guardian. I’d never had any reason to be afraid of him, and I’d have given anything just to tell him I was sorry and that I loved him back. I had no right to have done all those terrible things I did to him at the end, I realized, and I realized that he had loved my father so much not even death could keep him from that promise he’d mentioned in the letter. When I asked what the promise was, my mother looked at me and with tears in her eyes said, “It was made in this very house while they were setting up your room, it was just-” “No matter what happens, promise me you’ll watch over my daughter.”
As we neared the next building in the abandoned town, the highwayman just offered me a hankie.
"Um. Why?" I questioned him as a light flurry fell between us.
"You've sneezed every time we go from direct sunlight," he told me as he looked up to the partially cloudy skies above, "into a building and vice versa."
Why would he care if I sneezed or not? It's just sneezing. Although, I never noticed that I did that before.
"Just get going," he muttered when he caught sight of my expression. But there was something else in his tone. He wasn't angry like I thought he'd be.
"Thank you," I whispered as I took the hankie; processing what I realized.
"You can thank me when we get to where we need to be."
Like he predicted, when we crossed into the threshold of the building, I sneezed.
・❥・♡꙳𓂃𓂂*•.¸♡❦
𝘐 𝘮𝘪𝘴𝘴 𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘱𝘦𝘰𝘱𝘭𝘦 𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘱𝘦𝘤𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘱𝘦𝘰𝘱𝘭𝘦, 𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘺 𝘸𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘢𝘧𝘳𝘢𝘪𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘴𝘩𝘰𝘸 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘪𝘳 𝘴𝘦𝘯𝘴𝘪𝘵𝘪𝘷𝘪𝘵𝘺, 𝘥𝘦𝘭𝘪𝘤𝘢𝘤𝘺, 𝘤𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘦𝘮𝘱𝘢𝘵𝘩𝘺.
𝘐 𝘮𝘪𝘴𝘴 𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘱𝘦𝘰𝘱𝘭𝘦 𝘸𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘢𝘣𝘭𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘴𝘦𝘭𝘧𝘭𝘦𝘴𝘴𝘭𝘺 𝘩𝘦𝘭𝘱, 𝘵𝘳𝘶𝘭𝘺 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦, 𝘣𝘦 𝘧𝘢𝘪𝘵𝘩𝘧𝘶𝘭 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘵𝘳𝘶𝘵𝘩𝘧𝘶𝘭, 𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘶𝘱 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘦𝘢𝘬𝘦𝘳, 𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘺 𝘱𝘶𝘵 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘥𝘴 𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘰 𝘢𝘤𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘴.
𝘐 𝘮𝘪𝘴𝘴 𝘪𝘵 𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘱𝘦𝘰𝘱𝘭𝘦 𝘥𝘪𝘥𝘯'𝘵 𝘱𝘳𝘦𝘵𝘦𝘯𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘣𝘦 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘺 𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘯𝘰𝘵, 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘸𝘩𝘰𝘮 𝘸𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘮𝘢𝘵𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘦𝘥 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘣𝘦𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘪𝘯𝘨: 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘮𝘰𝘳𝘦 𝘮𝘰𝘯𝘦𝘺, 𝘧𝘰𝘭𝘭𝘰𝘸𝘦𝘳𝘴, 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦𝘴, 𝘧𝘢𝘬𝘦 𝘢𝘤𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘵𝘴... 𝘐 𝘸𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘢 𝘸𝘰𝘮𝘢𝘯 𝘵𝘰 𝘭𝘰𝘰𝘬 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘢 𝘸𝘰𝘮𝘢𝘯, 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘢 𝘴𝘪𝘭𝘪𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘮𝘰𝘯𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘢 𝘮𝘢𝘯 𝘩𝘦 𝘪𝘴 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘢 𝘧𝘦𝘮𝘦𝘣𝘰𝘺 𝘰𝘳 𝘢𝘯𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘧𝘦𝘮𝘢𝘭𝘦 𝘩𝘺𝘣𝘳𝘪𝘥, 𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘢 𝘵𝘳𝘶𝘭𝘺 𝘮𝘢𝘭𝘦 𝘪𝘯𝘥𝘪𝘷𝘪𝘥𝘶𝘢𝘭, 𝘢𝘵𝘵𝘳𝘢𝘤𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘰𝘯𝘭𝘺 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘱𝘩𝘺𝘴𝘪𝘤𝘢𝘭𝘪𝘵𝘺, 𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘢𝘭𝘴𝘰 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘳𝘪𝘴𝘮𝘢 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘱𝘦𝘳𝘴𝘰𝘯𝘢𝘭𝘪𝘵𝘺. 𝘐 𝘭𝘰𝘯𝘨 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘱𝘦𝘰𝘱𝘭𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘴𝘪𝘮𝘱𝘭𝘺 𝘣𝘦 𝘨𝘰𝘰𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘱𝘦𝘰𝘱𝘭𝘦... ❦♡˚· ͟͟͞͞➳❥
M.
Photo by Ebru Sidar.
Hey guys, Few words on.. "INTERNATIONAL MEN'S DAY ".. 👨💼
#Bitter but #True
Good morning | Azriel x fem!reader
Summary: Azriel has come from a mission early in the morning and has fallen exhausted, when you wake in the morning you play with his hair.
Warnings: fluff af
Author's note: English is not my first language so I'm sorry for the possible mistakes
You have been awake since the sun reached your eyes, but you didn't move, not meanwhile you were eyeing your mate, that's was something that still make your heart beat fast enough for a whole trope to know you were nervous.
Loving Azriel was something you have to work out with since you knew him, and that was something that you love most than anything, that you both fall in love before knowing about the bond, and somehow that was special, in your heart it was, cause it meant that he could love you not because of some kind of obligation but because he really wanted to.
Your hand moves up with shyness, you're not so convince that is a good idea, but you wanted so much to touch his hair. It's something you have done before, while kissing, but not in any other situation, and you loved to play with the hair, yours or from some friend, was a way of distressing.
It's something that came to your mind that since you have said that you loved his hair a little more large he kept it at a different length than you knew it, longer but not enough to call it long, the perfect length for you.
You began to make circles with his hair while you watched him sleep, perhaps it made you look like a stalker, but you didn't care, the peace that seeing him sleep transmitted to you was not comparable to anything you had felt before, although perhaps it competed with autumn evenings in which you sat on top of him and just talked or drank hot chocolate.
He murmured something incomprehensible to you, but it seemed to be something good. He moved, making you freaking out and stop the care you were showing. At one point he brought you closer to him, while he covered you with his wings, as if protecting you, your hand was a few centimeters from his hair, waiting for him to finish moving and you could calm down enough not to feel your heart in your ears.
You wanted him to know you loved him, cause words weren't your best language, not like physical touch, even though at this moment he can't realize he was onto some care.
Discovering physical touch was your love language was easy, people you cared about were surprised when you hugh them from behind, or when you play with their hair or the lobe of their ear.
It was very frustrating to you, cause you never knew if something could bother him, if your touches were something he despise more than anything. You were aware of the story of the scars on his hands, you know how protective were Illyrian with their wings, that's something that have been take in account in your life for caution.
You didn't want him to get angry with you, even though you knew he wasn't gonna hurt you conflicts weren't things you wanted you experience again, that was something that make you really nervous.
In your house arguing was a normal thing, and meanwhile you do it for expressing your own ideas it didn't fit with you, you really hated it, so when something bothers you, you simply disappear til the waters came down.
Azriel have been aware of that, but you never talk about it with no one, not even your mate. You just lock the bond for him to do not know what we're your emotions.
Finally you touched his hair, starting to play with it. And it was so smooth you wanted to stay like this for so, so much longer. You were so concentrated on what you were doing that didn't even realize he woke up.
Azriel close his eyes again enjoying the cares. You pulled a bit, just to get rid of a knot in his hair. The thing was that you wanted just to play, without he knowing.
Your hands went a little bit down, to the part behind his ears. You freeze when he lets out a groan.
“Just keep it up, sweetheart.” You almost jumped out of bed, if it weren't for his hands on your hips and the wings behind your back. You were literally freaking out, thinking your heart will just get out of your chest. “Are you okay, honey?” His low voice just sended an electric current down your spine.
“Uhummm.”
No you were not, this motherfucker almost gave you a heart attack, but you weren't going to argue with it.
“Then keep going” almost like a demanding.
“Umm, not into it right now” you whispered, aware that he could listen it from far away.
“But, honeyyyy” he complained, he wanted caresses and cuddles. That feeling of being protected and loved by his mate, just by her.
“Not into it” you replied.
“So not into it, huh?”
Before you could even realize what he was doing you were under him, tickling you until you reconsidered his very kind offer. Your laughter was the most wonderful sound that had blessed her ears, yet even if you left tears fell from your cheeks.
“Please Az stop” you said finally “Az just stop if you want cuddles anytime soon!” You threatened, but that only made him smile.
“Now with threatens, that hurts my heart, sweetheart” even though you knew it wasn't true you panicked.
You didn't want to hurt him, and when he realizes that something is wrong he stops, eyeing you for some wound or something that could hurt you.
“Sweetheart, are you okay?”
“Huh?” You asked, your mind weren't there, not anymore.
“I've just asked if you're okay.”
“Yeah. Fine.”
“Honey...” the warning in his voice did not go unnoticed.
“I'm fine, just... just go back to cuddles.” You were not really fine, and he knows it. But your face said just not today, not now.
“When you are ready” and you know he isn't talking about the cuddles.
You fell on the bed, him next to you. Your hand went back to his hair, playing with his, pulling a little and letting him enjoy.
“What have you done it lasted for so long?” You asked, just without wanting the silence between you.
“That bastard give me work till dawn,” you knew who that bastard was, Rhysand was the High Lord and the brother of your mate. You smiled “you look beautiful like this.”
“Giving you cuddles?” You asked, innocently.
“Smiling. Not that you could look awful, but this is something special.”
Your heart melted, you really love him.
“You are beautiful too, but when you are with your family it's even better” you said while your hand was in the back of his head.
“You are my family” he said, firmly.
That throws a question to your head.
“Would you like to grew up the family?” Your voice is low, shy.
He opens wide his eyes, smelling your scent.
“Are you...?” He didn't finish the question when you realize.
“Oh no! I'm not with a child, not that I'm aware of” you reply.
He nods, his eyes on yours.
“Yes, I want to grew up the family. Many kids around us,” he saids, watching you carefully while you still give him cuddles.
“How much kids are many?”
“Many” he replies.
“Ah, thanks for being so specific” you replied with sarcasm.
“How many do you want?” He asks back.
“I think two if the mother wants.”
“Two kids are very few kids” he replies, not accepting that.
“How many do you want, ten?” You asked mockingly.
“Could be.”
“No. I'm not having ten winged sons or daughters, I will go to another Court if you even think of that possibility” you refute.
“Six?” He asks mockingly.
“Still too many.”
“Not less than three.”
“Two, at least we are having triplets, which is almost impossible” you said, aware of the complications of fertility.
“Don't underestimate my power.”
“Yeah, sure. Shut up and read for now.”
“If you said so.”
He relaxes under your touch. You aren't tired if giving him cuddles, you instead loves it. For the next few hours you stay like this. He falls asleep at some point, but you do not stop.
Not till noon, when someone knocks the door. Your mate growls, and the people outside the door laughs.
You stand up, ignoring Azriel's complaints. Puting some of his wide shirts on top of you, covering your entire body up to mid-thigh. Azriel almost pulls you into bed when he sees you.
You get out of your bedroom to the front door, and when you open you see the two brothers of your mate.
“What the fuck do you want?” Azriel asks, standing behind of you, puting his hand around your waist.
“Did we interrupt some kind of sexual practice?” You blush.
You haven't have sex with him, he didn't wants till the mating ceremony, in two weeks. You were lovers for so long until the bond snapped, so then he wanted just to be special, no to be your first time as mates till then.
“No, they didn't, they arousal confirms it.”
Azriel growls. He was possessive, and didn't want to share your scent with no one.
“What the fuck you want?”
They smile.
“Today is nights game, if you have forgotten is in your house today.”
“You think? Today no one's gonna enter here” he doesn't want them there.
“Oh come on, Az, you two weren't having sex...” he didn't finishes his phrase when your mate slammed the doors in their faces, shutting them out.
“Where were we?”
“I was giving you cuddles, while you sleep.”
“Perfect, let's take it back.”
You rolled your eyes, but smile when he just picked you up and carried you in his arms, to the sofa where he lay on his back, with you on top of him.
His wings were well stablished, without getting hurt.
Instead of giving him cuddles in his hair you started drawing little things on your mates face with your fingers, interspersed with some sweet and short kisses all over his face.
“We have to stablish one day just for this.”
“I agree, one week you another me” you said with a smile.
“Or just you giving” he smiles while you hit him knowing you didn't hurt him.
“You little son of a bitch.”
He laughs, and you know you're home.
C.A.R.E and M.I.N.E
These two poems are part of a set of four, so that's why H.O.P.E. is mentioned!
C.A.R.E. is for
Concern for those around me, even if it’s not reflected
A is for altruism- work in progress, but I’ll try
R for resilience because that’s what I’ll need to practice, and
Effusion for e because four walls can’t stop my thoughts
C.A.R.E. stands for care and nothing more
Because caring is a skill I will learn to adore
C.A.R.E. is to experience the world
Painful and confusing though it ends up at times
But I won’t stay in these walls forevermore
Because I’ve only ever learned outside of the halls
C.A.R.E. is how I’ll start to live
Even if I begin to wish the box was still with me
Only with the will to fly will I reach the sky
And only from the heights will my path begin to be mine.
———————
M.I.N.E. is for
M will be for mindful, learning to adapt
I is for inspired by those around me every day
N is for natural and being me in my entirety
E is back to effervescent because that’s who I want to be
M.I.N.E. is for a willingness to grow
Because now I want to learn how nobody is the same
I’m fascinated, please, teach me what you know
Let me make a library and place your book inside
M.I.N.E. to adapt and overcome
The way it’s uncomfortable will show me how to grow
Nothing good ever came without struggle, so I know
Giving up is easy, but I will keep moving on.
And a fall is just an opportunity
To learn and fly again
H.O.P.E. wasn’t right, in the end
M.I.N.E. for the person I want to be
C.A.R.E for the person I owe it to
Giving up is easy but M is to be mindful
Of my actions and the consequences that they will always bring
So giving up is easy, but I will learn to fly.
The many faces of loss
I always get so grumbly with humans that think loss is a simple thing. A death, job change, relationship end, and many other forms of loss can have lasting, and often hidden (even to the one dealing with it) effects. So many people focus on the short term handling of the loss, or the lingering obvious issues and seem to think they know how the person should or shouldn't be acting. It's complete ridiculousness. NOBODY has ANY right to tell ANYONE how they should feel, or how the loss impacts them in their own realities. EVERY SINGLE CREATURE deals with each loss in their own ways. Some of the effects can be dealt with quickly and easily, some make permanent changes and will never be fully understood. NEVER.... EVER... let ANYONE tell you that you are somehow broken, or messed up, for how a loss impacts your own thoughts. Those who are trying to help will usually offer support, reassurance, patience, and space. If the person you think is there to help is pressuring you, making you feel like something is wrong with you, or is irritated by how things are effecting you... they are clearly NOT as helpful as they want to believe they are. If someone doesn't understand and is a bit inconvenienced because of your handling of a loss, that... is completely understandable... BUT... if they allow that to become an attitude towards you... THEY are the ones with a problem... NOT YOU! This human experience does not come with complete and foolproof instructions. We each have to figure things out in our own ways, no matter how many others try to tell us they have all the answers. So, if you're out there, and you're dealing with something, and you're feeling a bit beaten.... just remember.... you got this. There are those of us out there that understand it's complicated, it takes time, and USUALLY it's a lot more messy than anyone cares to admit. Just keep picking at it. You'll get where you need to be with it, if you really want to. Believe. ... Much love.