#natural fiber shoes

[sheilamurrey]

Book review and narration test of: How to Prosper During the Coming Bad Years

Often I used to read books before going to sleep. What follows is from one of those times. I’m thinking about potentially narrating books when I retire, or starting a podcast. Let me know what you think in the comments. There’s more on the audio as the point to this post was to test out the narration. Here’s the audio: Okay, I think what I’m going to do is a little test. And let’s see how this…

[balkanradfem]

Hey girl have you ever heard of logging boots? Idk if you'd be able to find a pair near you or to ship, but theyre basically just a type of thick, tough boot that has an instep/heel that is shaped and reinfirced for climbing in/on tree branches. The heel makes a sort of notch in the sole of the boot that rests over the branch and doesn't slip so you can balance easier. I wear them at work because they also make ladders safer.

I feel like this ask is almost a commercial xD I don't buy shoes or boots, I get them in unconventional ways. I'm also trying to learn how to make my own, I did not get far on that front but my willpower to learn is very strong right now.

[lowwasteorbustanut]

Currently trying to find new sneakers.

I’m looking for natural products, and repairable.

I am so tired of “vegan leather”. It’s fucking plastic.

I did manage to find a few companies that make the type of sneaker I’m looking for. Not I just have to 1) double check their sustainability/repair guarantee, 2)find my size, and 3) save up almost $200 for one pair of shoes.

[feltandyarn]

Treat Your Feet: 6 Reasons Why You Should Own Felted Shoes

Did you know humans on average take eight to ten thousand steps? Add that with around 250,000 sweat glands in your feet, it produces lots of sweat in a day. Therefore, you need to take care of them more often.

Our felted shoes are the perfect way to take care of your feet. But how is that? Well, the breathability and softness of the felted shoes make the best for your feet. 

The felted shoes are made of natural wool that is anti-microbial which means it prevents bacteria from spreading. Along with the moisture-absorbing ability that we stated in the previous point, felted shoes help to keep your feet dry and reduce odor. 

Also, wool is hypoallergenic meaning it is unlikely to cause any allergic reaction. And made with high-quality wool that has the finest wool fiber, your feet are sure to love our felted shoes.

[theambitiouswoman]

Hygiene tips

Wash your hands thoroughly with soap and water for at least 20 seconds, especially before eating, after using the restroom, after coughing or sneezing, and after touching public surfaces.

Carry a hand sanitizer with you. Make sure the sanitizer contains at least 60% alcohol and rub it over your hands until dry.

When coughing or sneezing, cover your mouth and nose with a tissue or your elbow to prevent the spread of germs. Dispose of used tissues immediately.

Refrain from touching your eyes, nose, and mouth as much as possible, as these are entry points for germs into your body.

Take showers or baths regularly to keep your body clean and fresh. Use soap and water to thoroughly cleanse your body, paying attention to areas like armpits, feet, and groin.

Brush your teeth at least twice a day for two minutes each time, using fluoride toothpaste. Don't forget to clean your tongue, and replace your toothbrush every three to four months.

Keep your nails short and clean to prevent the buildup of dirt and bacteria. Use a nail brush to scrub under your nails regularly.

Regularly clean and disinfect frequently touched surfaces in your home, such as doorknobs, light switches, countertops, and electronics. Also, keep your living space well-ventilated.

Wash your clothes, bed linens, and towels regularly, following the manufacturer's instructions. Use the appropriate water temperature and detergent to ensure proper cleanliness.

Avoid sharing personal items like towels, razors, toothbrushes, or makeup.

Practice good food hygiene by washing fruits and vegetables thoroughly before consumption. Cook food to the appropriate temperature to kill harmful bacteria, and refrigerate leftovers promptly.

Keep your surroundings clean: Regularly clean and disinfect commonly touched surfaces such as doorknobs, light switches, phones, keyboards, and remote controls. This helps eliminate germs that may be present on these surfaces.

Maintain clean and healthy feet: Keep your feet clean and dry to prevent fungal infections. Wash your feet regularly, dry them thoroughly (especially between the toes), and wear clean socks and well-fitting shoes.

Ensure that the water you use for drinking, cooking, and personal hygiene is clean and safe. If necessary, use water filters or boil the water before use.

If possible, use a shower filter.

If you are sexually active, use barrier methods (such as condoms) to protect yourself from sexually transmitted infections. Get regular check-ups and screenings as recommended by healthcare professionals.

Take care of your mental well-being by managing stress, getting enough sleep, engaging in regular physical activity, and seeking support when needed. Good mental health is essential for overall well-being.

Sleep with aloe vera on your face to help with scars and acne.

Massage your body with oils and lotions after shower or before bed.

Eat greek yogurt to help fix PH balance, acne and odor in your private area.

Wear cotton based underwear.

Do not treat your body like a trashcan.

To smell good during the day:

Regular bathing helps remove sweat, dirt, and odor-causing bacteria from your body.

Apply antiperspirant or deodorant to clean, dry underarms to control sweat and odor.

You can also use baking soda and lemon to get rid of under arm odor.

Put on freshly laundered clothes each day. Clean clothing helps prevent the buildup of odor-causing bacteria and keeps you smelling fresh.

When choosing clothes, opt for natural fibers like cotton or linen, which allow air to circulate and help wick away moisture from your body. Avoid synthetic materials that can trap sweat and lead to unpleasant odors.

Brush your teeth at least twice a day, floss daily, and use mouthwash to maintain fresh breath. Don't forget to clean your tongue as well.

Apply a pleasant fragrance, such as perfume or cologne, sparingly. Avoid excessive application, as it can be overwhelming to others. Focus on pulse points like the wrists, neck, or behind the ears.

Keep your feet clean and dry to prevent foot odor. Wash your feet daily, dry them thoroughly (especially between the toes), and wear clean socks and well-ventilated shoes.

Regularly brush your tongue, as it can harbor bacteria and contribute to bad breath. Visit your dentist regularly for check-ups and cleanings.

Drink plenty of water throughout the day to flush out toxins from your body. Staying hydrated can help prevent the buildup of odors.

Certain foods, such as garlic, onions, and spicy dishes, can contribute to body odor. Pay attention to your diet and make choices that minimize strong odors if you are concerned about smelling good.

Keep a small travel-sized deodorant, wet wipes, or refreshing body spray with you to freshen up during the day, especially in hot or humid weather.

Ensure your clothes, towels, and bed linens are washed regularly. Use a detergent with a fresh scent to keep them smelling clean.

Spray perfume on your brush or use natural oils that are safe for your hair.

Wipe front to back to avoid infections. Use toilet paper then wipes.

moisturize your skin.

When washing your hair, make sure you are using products that clean your hair without drying it out.

Keep feminine wipes with you.

[columboscreens]

columbo is so gender to me but i dont think i could ever look like him</3

i think it's totally possible for anyone to embody his essence. you can even manage to rock something directly inspired by columbo without looking like you're cosplaying.

hair

if you have columbo's hair type, it's actually pretty easy to emulate his styles. i even know people who show pictures of columbo to hair stylists to get his look. my partner's hair in its natural state is very similar to columbo's--dark, wavy, tending to grow in spite of gravity rather than with it. whenever he gets his hair cut, he shows the stylist photos of late 60s/pilot episode peter falk, whose look is actually pretty on-trend for the current era. it works out pretty well.

your swag may have aged well pilot columbo but you can't beat floof

failing that, getting any haircut that is natural, low-maintenance, and not too attention-grabbing captures the visual language all the same. for reference, natasha lyonne in poker face has her hair in natural-looking, messy waves that to me just exude columbo.

clothing

how you present yourself to the world is up to you, but if you want to invoke columbo, there's a lot more you can do than buy a tan raincoat.

in an era of sharply-cut, wide-lapelled constructions, fat tie tuesdays, and gucci loafers, columbo stands out as classic comfort personified.

his collar, tie, and lapels are slim, proportional, and unassuming; they'd look good in almost any era. his pants fit closely to his leg but not too wide or slim, and sit at or near the natural waist. though his suits, shirts, ties, shoes, socks, and even coats rotate, there is a consistent color palette keeping him "on model". he embraces earth tones: creams, forest greens, light browns, dark browns, stony grays, rusts, and roses. his clothing seems like an afterthought, but it's an extension of his personality--rumpled and unassuming at first, yet sharp and deliberate upon further inspection.

amid the 1970s explosion of synthetic popularity, it says something that every stitch of textile on columbo's person is natural (aside from the raincoat, which is probably nylon or poly--he wears it without a lining and uses it as essentially an oversized windbreaker). his boots are leather with crepe latex soles; his tie is silk. his shirt is cotton, a bit boxy but comfortable and properly fitted. because the construction of his suits is roomy and unstructured, and because they're made of linen, they wrinkle easily.

this is easily confused for appearing slovenly. actually, all things considered, his clothes fit him pretty damn well, it's just hard to avoid wrinkling natural fibers like linen and cotton, especially in hot weather. he's running around los angeles sweating up a storm, the man needs loose, breathable fabric.

point is, columbo dresses very thoughtfully. since these clothes are workwear for him and he works a hell of a lot, it's imperative that he factors in the weather, his comfort, and proper fit when picking clothes. he wants to like and be comfortable in them while looking unassuming. so even though he sometimes ends up looking like an unmade bed, his choices are deliberate.

you could invoke these principles in your own appearance by picking earthy colors/jewel tones and comfortable, natural fabrics that you enjoy wearing, which has the added benefit of being better for you and the environment. consider also taking a few garments in to be altered. it's usually not that expensive, supports your local needlefolk, and makes even cheap clothes fit great.

as a last little aside, i think having a "signature" clothing item akin to columbo's raincoat would be a nice touch. a jacket, a pair of shoes, even a watch or necklace. something you always wear. if you really do want a raincoat like his, just make sure you're not buying a trench coat, because, repeat after me: columbo does not wear a trench coat.

[deetz-ghuleh]

Reverence

─ Cardinal Copia x F! Reader ─

rating: 18+ Explicit | MDNI

word count: 3.4k

summary: The Cardinal discovers your dirty little secret and wants you all to himself.

tws/tags: somewhat dom fem reader, nudity, sexual penetration, oral sex, masturbation, submission, praise kink, some humiliation kink, orgasm delay/denial, voyeurism.

a/n: This is my first Ghost fic. I'm so happy I finally finished it! Constructive criticism is welcomed & any likes/comments are appreciated! Also, a huge thank you to @foxybouquet for this amazing post on Italian words/phrases!

AO3 link

tag list: @x1nd1g0x

The small abandoned chapel on the other side of the abbey had been neglected for years. The Cardinal never visited the place, but at the request of Sister Imperator, he sauntered over so they could begin the painstaking process of renovation. 

His gloved hands had barely touched the old iron handle when-

“Kneel down. Like a nice little puppy, yes?” You demand, voice full of mischief as Brother Luca whimpered at your feet.

Copia freezes, his eyes widening in surprise as he watches you through a small crack in the wood.

“Yes, yes, Sister ______!” Brother Luca responds, kissing your shoes eagerly. “Please let-let me taste you,” he pleads.

Your unassuming nature in his class never hinted at this. You were the perfect student, among his favorite siblings. So demure and quiet, and now….

Was he dreaming?

“You’ve been such a good boy, Luca,” you purr in his ear, “I guess you deserve your reward.”

Copia exhales, feeling your voice ripple through his whole body as if he was Brother Luca.

Oh, Satanas, you must be some sort of succubus. Yes, you were sent to tempt him, corrupt him, and devour him in the most pleasurable way - something he always wanted, but was too ashamed to admit. His brothers were all domineering, taking what they wanted from women. But not him. He had always been different from them, even with his fantasies. He had dreamed about it many times before - being ravished by a strong, confident woman - dominated and forced to feel the most unbridled pleasure.

Sweat beads on his forehead as he watches you bunch up your habit and sit on the floor with your legs spread open. Brother Luca bends down before you, ready to worship. “Tell me what you want, Luca. Beg for it.” You instruct.

“Please, please, Sister _____. I want-need your pussy in my mouth,” Luca whines desperately, begging at the altar of your lust.

Me too. Oh please, me too, sorella. Copia pleads internally, palming himself as beads of precum accumulate at his tip. He was enraptured.

You give a signal of approval to Luca, and he lunges forward like a madman, licking at your folds as if it was his only means of sustenance. You arch your back, moaning softly as he buries his face inside your dripping cunt. Your hands grip his hair tightly and your hips buck upwards to ride his face.

The gasps and moans emanating from your lips drive Copia wild. Every fiber of his being wants to open the door and take Luca's place, but he resists. He resists so much that it's painful. His eyes shut close. He pictures himself licking you, matching his rhythm to the delicious sounds you’re making. He wants so badly to release his throbbing length, but he prolongs the torture by only squeezing it through the heavy fabric of his cassock. He tries to keep his short, sharp breaths at a minimum to not be heard, but your moans get louder, and so does his arousal. He quickly unbuttons a small part of his cassock, just enough to fist his length.

Luca starts circling your clit with his tongue, and you feel yourself close to the edge, the pressure building so beautifully in your core. “Don’t… fucking…stop,” you request through a breathless moan. A few more licks and your walls clench around his mouth. Your squeal ricochets off the chapel’s walls and, with a loud groan, he savors your slick like a frantic man dying of thirst.

Your cries of pleasure ring in Copia’s ears. He bucks his hips, groping his length in a maddening haze as ropes of cum spill onto the inside of his underwear.

Lost in his desire, he accidentally knocks the door open, catching eyes with you for a brief moment before panicking and scurrying out into the courtyard.

—

You knew it would happen eventually. Doing it outdoors, even in a secluded place, was begging to get caught. You weren’t embarrassed though. You knew the Ministry celebrated sin. There was no shame in the act itself. But for the shy, awkward Cardinal to have been the one? It made your insides tingle. He had actually seen you... exposed, being pleasured, moaning. And it had been obvious to you, in that tiny moment when you locked eyes, that he had enjoyed it. That alone turned you on immensely.

His cock twitches involuntary when he sees your name on his list of students. His need had only grown since he saw you. He got little sleep, pumping his cock several times throughout the night to the point of overstimulation. Your sordid gasps and moans still echoed in his mind. He wasn’t one to lose control or become obsessive, but felt like he was slowly teetering over that precipice. He wanted nothing more than to be engulfed in your flame, to be used and abused by you. But how? Will you even want to? His mind swam with endless questions and doubts. And like many times before, his inner voice made him feel like a pathetic, old pervert. Insecurity had plagued him his whole life. This wasn't any different.

He cleared his throat, trying to compose himself for the day's lesson. He was still a senior clergy member, a leader, and he needed to conduct himself as such.

He begins writing on the chalkboard. “Ok, so uhh, sí, um, today we will talk about the rise of Satanism during the Dark Age-"

From his peripheral, he sees you walk in and sit down. You were so unbelievably perfect, un bellissimo angelo (a beautiful angel). So, so close.

It wasn't uncommon for him to stutter or trip over his words during class, but everyone noticed he was a bit more nervous than usual.

“Cardinal?” A concerned sibling on the other side of the classroom calls to him.

Her voice quickly snaps him out of his trance. He must have been staring at the wall for longer than he realized. “Sí, sí, mi dispiace (I’m sorry), I-I didn’t get much sleep last night,” he answers awkwardly, slowly turning to the class, trying his damnedest to not look at you. “Uh, how about we end a little early today, ok? We can continue tomorrow.” He hated ending his classes prematurely, but today called for it. He would’ve been a mumbling mess otherwise.

He sighs deeply, sitting back on his chair as everyone starts making their way out the door. He closes his eyes, pinching his brow with his fingers in frustration.

Get a hold of yourself, idiota. She’s just…

His eyes fly open when he realizes you haven't left.

Your eyes were fixed on him, a playful smile dancing on your lips.

Some invisible force must have pinned his lower limbs to the chair because he couldn’t feel his legs. Your gaze was like a magnet, pulling him farther and farther away from his sanity. His throat tightened in response.

“Did you like it, Cardinal?” You tease.

He was dumbstruck. The only thing he could do was tightly clench his thigh as his heart beat erratically and his cheeks flushed as red as his cassock.

You stroll casually over to him, planting your hands on his paper-strewn desk, only a few inches away from his face. “I asked you a question, Cardinal.” You chided him.

His brain was desperately trying to form a coherent thought. “Sorella, I-I…." He stutters.

“Yes?”

His monochrome eyes trace over your delicate features. Your sweet, soft lips were begging to be kissed. He knows the slightest touch from you would drive him mad. You had unfurled a feeling buried deep within him, and this was finally his chance to succumb to you.

“Yes.” He answers, his leather-clad hand reaching over to grip yours. “Ti voglio così tanto (I want you so much),” he confesses in a hushed voice. “Please, sorella…”

"Please what, Cardinal?" You ask, a hint of mischievousness in your voice. You wanted him to say it.

He averts his eyes briefly, trying to find the right words. "Tesoro (Darling), I-I want all of you. I want to serve you. Would-will you let me?"

You give him a sly smile and slowly walk around the desk. “You were a bad boy last night, Cardinal, hm?”

He gulps down his nervousness and manages to answer, his voice almost a whisper. “Ye-yes, sorella, I was-”

“You touched yourself, didn’t you?”

This is the closest you’d been to him. Your heated gaze was turning his mind into soup.

His puppy-eyed look almost made you feel bad about torturing him this way.

You clutch his shoulders and push your body against his. His head nuzzles against your chest. You can hear his staggered breathing as you remove his biretta and gently purr in his ear. “Tell me, Cardinal. Tell me what you did after you saw me.”

His eyes close in delight, inhaling your scent. It was verging on desperate how badly he wanted to bury himself within you.

“I-I couldn’t stop,” he answers, seeking the warmth of your skin, “I kept going until it hurt.”

You grab his chin, forcing him to look at you. His eyes were so gentle. He had always been kind to you. It made you want to make him blush even more.

You trail your fingers down to his bulge, loving how he shudders at your touch. “Show me, Cardinal.”

He unbuttons his cassock at a frenzied pace. A gasp of relief leaves his lips as his aching cock springs free, red and leaking with pre-cum. “Senti che duro che sono per te (Feel how hard I am for you).”

Without warning, you tightly grip his hair, pushing his head back. You squeeze his cock and a needy whimper escapes him. “Like this?” You ask, pumping him with a skilled rhythm. His jaw goes slack and his eyes roll to the back of his skull.

“Look at me, Cardinal,” you instruct sternly. “Be a good boy for me, yes?"

Good boy. Two words that go straight to his pulsing cock.

You continue your ministrations, your beautiful eyes peering into his duochrome ones with each stroke. He would take any and all punishments if it meant being with you like this, relinquish his soul if that's what it took. He craved this touch, this affection. Perhaps it was a symptom of being too damn lonely, but he felt wanted, needed.

His breath hitches, and you know he’s closing in on his climax. “You are not allowed to cum until I tell you, Cardinal.” You instruct gently, your own ache slowly building at hearing his moans.

Hungry to please you, he tries hard to keep himself from release, but knows he won't last long, not like this. "Sorella, please-please, I'm-I'm so..." he pants breathlessly, murmuring Italian words you can’t quite make out.

"Good boys get rewarded, right, Cardinal?" You ask, each word in tandem with a deliberate stroke.

Feeling his body start to shake, you get on your knees, ready to take his cock into your mouth. “Cum now. Cum for me, Cardinal.”

The euphoria of your mouth is so intense that he nearly falls off the chair towards you, inhaling sharply as his hips jolt against your face. You catch his thighs and keep him still as he fills your throat with his spend, pulling a loud growl from his chest.

Trying to catch his breath, he looks at you through half-lidded eyes and disheveled hair. “Cara, you truly are a gift from Lucifer below.”

You grace him with a thankful smile and stand up.

In a flash, he's on his knees, his gloved hand pulling up the lower part of your habit, fingers caressing your legs. "Let me taste you, dolcezza. Per favore (please)." He begs, planting eager kisses on your thigh.

You move away from his grasp, walking to the center of the classroom. As you turn, your ass pushes against one of the wooden desks. With a curled finger, you beckon him. “Crawl to me, eyes down on the floor.”

As if by instinct, he positions himself on his hands and knees and begins to crawl his way over to you. You rub your thighs together, trying to get some friction. Seeing the Cardinal like this because of you was titillating. Your pussy was already so wet for him.

Reaching your shoes, he kisses them without question, waiting for your instruction. The anticipation is beautifully torturous.

“Taste me, Cardinal.”

Your voice is like a jolt to his system. Ravenous kisses and soft bites fall on your legs, moving up your thighs. You help him by gathering up your habit to give him better access. Unmatched irises reach yours, blown wide open with lust. He can feel the heat emanating from your core, mimicking his own. With one hand, he pulls down your panties with ease, still looking up at you with adulation.

He stands, rubbing your lips with his thumb for a few seconds before placing feather-like kisses across your neck and collarbone. Goosebumps slide across your skin, and for a moment, you fall into a tenderness you didn’t know you needed. Without you noticing, he expertly removes the leather gloves from his hands and tosses them aside.

Delicately, his hand finds your wetness, and a finger slides in between your slit. You gasp at the feeling, tilting your head backward, the chair behind you slightly dragging across the floor. His other hand pushes your chest down to lay your back upon the desk, keeping you safe and steady in his hold. He splays your thighs open, just the way he had seen you in the chapel.

“Que belleza (How beautiful)…” he whispers, taking in the sight of your glistening pussy.

The aroma of your arousal has his mind spinning, the need to fuck you senseless had been digging into his skin and traveling up his spine incessantly. But he has you here now, displayed before him like he wanted, unrestrained, and he would take his time.

He tugs at your hips to keep you still, licking his lips slowly. His tongue finally slips between your folds, making you moan and arch your back, spreading your legs even further for him. He adds another finger, delving in as deep as possible, curling up towards that divine spot inside you.

He laps at your folds, making you mewl against his tongue. Expert fingers slid in and out your opening and you grit your teeth as he indulges in teasing your clit in the most sinful way.

Your nerves are on fire as he continues his assault on your sensitive nub, giving you no reprieve and peeling away any inhibition you were holding onto for fear of being heard. “Fuc-fuck, Copia!” You cry, fingers digging into his scalp.

Your calling of his name makes him speed up even more, a pleased groan escaping him as he hastily drinks your slick like a sweet nectar.

“Vieni per me, bella. Vieni per it tuo cardinale (Cum for me, beautiful. Cum for your Cardinal).” He coos against your pussy.

That’s all it took for you to explode in his mouth, tightening around his fingers, almost clenching his head between your thighs. The orgasm makes your bones feel like jelly.

As you come down from your high, he caresses your face. You notice his eye-makeup is smeared and almost gone. “Let’s go to my bedroom, dolcezza. So I could worship you properly, si?” He asks. The warmth in his words catches you off guard even in your post-orgasm haze. It was so different from any of your previous encounters - most of them filled with careless lust and immediate gratification.

You give him a nod, and he carries you bridal style to his suite. You cozy up against the curve of his neck, and for the first time, you feel loved, not just desired. Whether it was your brain being flooded with serotonin or a lie you wanted to believe, you didn’t know, but it felt so nice to surrender to him, and you don’t want it to end.

Carefully, he lays you down on his bed, freshly cleaned sheets welcoming you as you relax your softened limbs. Your eyes scan the room briefly, curious to know where the Cardinal spent his private time. You could see dark wooden furniture, numerous texts, a small cage with rats? It was hard to decipher in the darkness of the room with only a few candles. Perhaps another day.

As you close your eyes momentarily, you feel his fingers traveling up and down your skin. The tickle of his mustache and a small kiss on your shoulder make you turn to look at him. His ghostly eye glimmers beautifully in the dim lighting.

You stand upright to remove your veil and habit. He helps to unclasp your bra, eyes widening in awe of your naked form. “Bellissima…" he says in a silken voice.

He removes the rest of his garments, and before you can see all of him, he passionately draws your lips to his. A faint hint of fruitiness (apple?) and cologne hits your nostrils. You had not kissed his lips yet through all of this, you thought, and the love behind it makes you blush.

You curl your arms around his back to bring him closer on top of you. He pins you down with the weight of his body, hips rutting against you while half-painted lips shower you with heated, urgent kisses. His hand moves down to fumble with your clit, making you wriggle beneath him. A rush of heat pools in your core, and all you can think about is him devouring you.

“I’m going to fuck you now, tesoro. Perdonami (forgive me), but I can’t wait anymore,” he whispers huskily.

He brushes the tip of his cock a few times against your slickness. With a sharp thrust, he sinks into your tight warmth, drawing out a strangled cry from your lips and making you clutch the sheets beneath you. A pang of guilt blooms in his chest - he had tried so hard to be gentle, take his time, and now the only thing he wanted was to ruin you. He wanted you too much, selfishly.

Your eyes close tightly as he buries himself impossibly deep within you, his cock angled to hit that perfect spot within you, as if he had known your body all his life. Your heart pounds violently alongside each movement, making you fall into a fiery abyss with him.

Impassioned, he pulls himself upwards to yank your hips against his cock repeatedly, his fingers digging into your waist with bruising intensity. Every inch sends waves of pleasure through bone and muscle. He kneads at your breasts and pinches your nipples, his eyes darkening with increased lust and adoration. It's intoxicating.

“Cazzo (Fuck), bella!! I can't....get...enough..." he pants above you, pistoning in and out of your quivering pussy.

As you scream affirmations, he pulls out of you briefly, making you whine wantonly. He lowers himself to lick up your seam with his tongue, knowing it will send you over the edge. "I love seeing you like this, sorella...” he says, while swirling circles on your clit. The sensation is all-consuming, making you legs shake uncontrollably.

"Copia, please!" You cry out to him into the darkness, feeling the band in your core about to snap. You want to feel all of him, utterly, completely.

He rises again and plunges into you easily, filling you up to the hilt and eliciting a needy, shuddering gasp. Feeling your fluttering hole tightening around his cock, he thrusts in and out of you with abandon, his hips pressed flush against yours. "Let go for me, amore, let go." He roars above you.

You fall over the edge as he rips the orgasm from you, lips parting with a squeal as you clench your walls around his cock. The keen sound makes its way out into the hallway and you know someone must have heard it. Your release ignites his own, and he pounds into your wet pussy wildly, growling in ecstasy as he spills himself inside you with staggered thrusts.

Exhausted, he collapses on top of you, chest rising and falling. A subtle peace imbues you when you feel the movement of his breathing against your own.

After a few minutes, he rolls over to your side, and you cuddle against his neck.

“You called me amore...” You say, almost timidly, playing with the little hairs on his chest.

“Si, you liked it?”

"Yes." You smile, connecting your fingers with his.

"Stay with me tonight, dolcezza?"

"I'd love nothing more, Copia."

✦ 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗇𝗄 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗌𝗈 𝗆𝗎𝖼𝗁 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝗋𝖾𝖺𝖽𝗂𝗇𝗀. 𝗂𝖿 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖾𝗇𝗃𝗈𝗒 𝗆𝗒 𝗐𝗋𝗂𝗍𝗂𝗇𝗀 and want to support me, please consider leaving comments, kudos, or reblogging my posts. :) ✦

♡

[mydearchoso]

Haunted Hearts

-gojo satoru

//angsty. devoted reader. depressed! gojo because i can fix him </3

A/N: haunted hearts, we melt over the fabric of your floorrrr (couch, but ptv reference ehehe). i wrote this in like an hour?? i don't really write for fun like this often, so idk how this turned out 😫 it's been like 4 years since i've written anything like this. ALSO, i didn't proofread it 🤭. dunno why its so angsty but i was just churning it out... sorry? divider by cafekitsune

wc- 550ish

coming home after a long day. walking down the seemingly endless hallway to your apartment as your chest heaves and your heels drag. your day isn't over yet though, as you're greeted by a cluster of white hair and a long, lanky body shrivels against your door. who know's how long he had been there, how long he would have waited. with one final sigh, you exhume as much of your fatigue — physical as well as mental, before pushing your key in the door, unlocking it.

before twisting the knob, you shove the bag hanging off your shoulder behind you, and squat down in front of the grown man at your door. a soft smile graces you lips as you push a tuft of his messy, unkempt hair back and whisper, "what am i to do with you, huh?"

the same heavy silence that usually permeated your hallway became more dense as the man greets your question with silence. as your smile turns weary and your voice softens, you implore him, "come on, satoru. i can't pick you up all by myself. help me get you on your feet."

as you wrap your arms around his torso, you bring one to the handle in preparation. under your breath and into his ear, you count, "one... two... three." he comes up surprisingly easy for as dead as he had first appeared. shuffling inside the dimly lit apartment, you first slide off your own shoes, before leaning gojo against the wall to help him take off his own.

once all shoes were properly discarded in the entryway, and coats were dismissed, you lead him to the couch (what could also be recognized as the the lounging area closest to the door). you let him situate himself, before joining him on the opposite side of the couch.

almost as soon as you settle, gojo is leaning towards you. twisting his body to allow his face to rest between your hips and waist, while his arms snaked themselves around you. he held you tight, the pressure catching you off guard. despite his unusual behavior, your hands naturally assumed their position, the left carding through his hair and the right rubbing his back. a shuddering breath racked his body as you did so, his face pushing deeper into your belly.

a new, but familiar silence hung itself in the air as everything fell into place. the damp, sticky one that clings to every fiber of your being. the one you can't manage to wash off no matter how hard you scrub, that stains your skin and maims the soul. the one that gojo would never be rid of.

over time, this same silence started clinging to you, much like a scent or habit does. you didn't mind it. you never would. if sharing even an ounce of it would take any of the weight off his shoulders, you would take it on gladly.

for as long as he was the strongest, as long as death continued to follow him, he would never be able to rid himself of this silence. soap and water could do wonders for the blood he's had on his hands, but only time (and perhaps some love) can work to chip away at the guilt harbored deep in his heart.

[probablyasocialecologist]

Fashion waste manifests at three stages in the value chain: during the production process where surplus raw materials accumulate; in warehouses where excess buffer stocks settle; and in landfills where post-consumer waste mounts. While the instant fashion model does likely reduce buffer stocks (although the companies don’t share these data to validate their claims), it’s hyper-dependence on fossil fuel-based polyester summed with the short half-life of its cheap clothing causes consequential environmental damage at the other stages of the process. Instant fashion’s popularity overlaps with the surge in plastic as a fashion input. Prior to 2000, natural fibers (such as cotton and wool) were the primary inputs to clothing. However, as fossil fuel producers have come under pressure from the growth of renewables, growth in plastic supply has proved a welcome offset with the fashion industry serving as a reliable customer. Cheaper, more readily available, and with some preferred properties (e.g. quick-drying, wrinkle-proof, durable, ability to “take” color, and more), synthetics have powered the growth of activewear and instant fashion. While consumers have benefited from lower prices, the negative impacts of synthetics are an environmental scourge. Energy used to produce plastics is often fossil fuel-intensive leading to increases in carbon emissions. During a plastic garment’s useful life, it sheds microplastics into waterways that end up in the food supply, as do excess concentrations of hazardous chemicals. A recent Greenpeace investigation found that 15% of Shein’s products contain concentrations of hazardous chemicals that breach E.U. regulatory limits. Finally, it takes hundreds of years for cheap synthetic shoes and shirts to decompose, all the while emitting methane and further contributing to climate change. (It’s important to note that even producing clothing with natural, untreated fabrics impacts the environment; the most sustainable option is to produce and consume less.)

[leighsartworks216]

We'll Figure It Out

Harvey x gn!Farmer

Been really going through it with finals and now that I'm sick and feeling like garbage, this just wanted to come outta me. I'm working on a sweeter one to balance this one out. Not proofread at all

Warnings: hurt/comfort, anxiety, depression, suicidal thoughts (not explicit), crying, brief reference to alcoholism, drugs and suicide

Word Count: 1,013

Masterlist

AO3

The farmer grumbled. The blankets were too warm, but the thought of pushing them off and starting the day was even more unpleasant. From the window of Harvey’s room, they could see the sunlight streaming through. But it was too bright, and promised a long day ahead. Again.

They sighed as they shuffled further into the too-warm blankets, pressing their face into their too-warm pillow, grappling with how uncomfortable their too-warm pajamas were. They had to tamp down their emotions so they didn’t frustratedly try ripping it all off at once, no matter how tempting it sounded.

“Honey?”

Two knocks sounded from the door frame. Robin hadn’t bothered to install doors. When it was just them living there in the dingy one-room cabin, it was fine. Now it only served to irritate them as Harvey’s shoes switched from padding on carpet to crossing the hardwood floor of the bedroom.

The edge of the bed sunk down with his weight as he sat down. His hand naturally found its way to their leg, rubbing mindless patterns through the blanket onto their thigh. The familiar scent of coffee reached their nose. No doubt his other hand was occupied with a freshly brewed cup of their farm-grown beans. He always said Gus couldn’t make a cup this good, though you insisted Gus probably used the beans you sold to Pierre to make his own saloon goods.

“What’s wrong? You’re usually up by now.”

He waited patiently as they sighed into their pillow, before turning their head until their mouth was uncovered. “What time is it?” they mumbled.

He glanced at the clock on their side table. “8:30, just about.”

“Hmmph.”

“You gonna tell me what’s wrong?”

They heaved a long, drawn out sigh. “Which Harvey am I talking to?”

His ministrations paused for a moment, before he began rubbing circles against them. “Which would you prefer?”

“... Husband Harvey.”

“Okay,” he said, nodding. “Can you tell me, as your husband, what’s wrong today?”

Time stretched on. He began to doubt they’d answer at all, or maybe they’d chosen to lapse back into the selective muteness they’d arrived to the valley relying on. He still remembers how shocked he was when they first spoke. By that time, over a year had gone by, and he’d long accepted this stranger as an odd new addition, running into the clinic with jars of pickles and hot coffee before leaving just as soon as they came.

Ever since they’d presented him that bouquet from Pierre’s, they’d opened up more. Some days were harder than others for them to speak, but he never held it against them. Now, though, some bitter part of him wished they’d give his frayed nerves a break. He ignored it in favor of giving them time.

Eventually, they unburied their face and stared across the bed into his room. His radio receiver sat untouched, waiting for a rainy day to be used again. A half-built model airplane rested on the table amidst paint and glue. A book on the floor he kept forgetting to pick up, fallen from his shelf of other miniature models of planes. He wondered what they were looking at, or for.

“I…” They swallowed. They began picking at a string on the corner of their pillowcase. “I wish I hadn’t woken up.”

He hm’d. “Were you having a good dream?”

Their fingers twirled the string around them, tugging futilely on the stubborn fiber. “No, I, um…” They pulled until their fingertips changed color. “I wish I hadn’t woken up, at all…”

Everything in Harvey’s body shot to high alert. Memories of checking teenage patients in Zuzu City who didn’t look him in the eyes as he tried explaining how the stuff they were putting into their bodies was slowly killing them. Adults who’d come in reeking of liquor, claiming they’d only had one or two drinks that week, who scoffed when he tried advising them against drinking. One patient who had already decided what they would do that night, regardless of what he said.

His hand stilled entirely on their leg, tense. A thousand thoughts ran through his mind, all spiraling from bad to worse.

As a husband. As a husband. They don’t want a doctor right now. What would a husband do?

The dip in the bed lifted as he stood. The farmer, his dear farmer, curled in on themself, burying their face in the pillow again. Succumbed to their thoughts. Accepting that he would not help.

They jolted when they felt the bed shift as he crawled in from his side. His shoes were abandoned on the floor, jacket removed and laid over the foot of the bed where their cat liked to sleep. They watched, lost on what to do, as he laid before them, scooched down so he was eye-level despite his height. He brushed a hand over their cheek, knuckles pushing away loose hair and spare dirt from the day before.

He looked them in the eye.

“Talk to me, honey.”

His eyes flickered across their face as they stared at him. A slight tremor in their lower lip, their eyes becoming glossy, the hesitation melting away as they sighed shakily and leaned their head closer to him. He gladly closed the gap, resting their foreheads together. They closed it further, dragging their too-warm body away from the too-warm imprint they’d created last night, wrapping their arms around him, not caring how warm he was against them, just needing him close.

He watched their face crumple as the tears finally flooded to the corners of their eyes. Their body shook with the sob that ripped its way from their throat. He shushed them softly as he pulled away to place a kiss to their temple. They pressed forward into his neck, tucking their head under his chin and finding the bare skin there despite the shirt collar blocking it. He wrapped his arm around their shoulder and supported the back of their neck, keeping them close.

“We’ll figure it out, dear. We’ll figure it out. I promise.”

[kikovanitysimmer]

Hi Kiko,

I love your work, you are my favorite sim creator, you have the best hair styles for sims 4 people of color.

I wanted to know if you can make more long natural hair styles - (locs with clips/gold and silver) in different styles for the women in sims 4 :)?

like some long locs with long side bangs

some with clips

different ombre and color options

more edges

hidden scalp, or brown variation of scalps, (brown or black scalp)

I used the gif below to show a example hairstyle that looks different and cool.

-

Hair, clothes, and shoes is most important to me in sims 4.

Thank you for having this option to contact you,

Sincerely,

Nikki

I appreciate your admiration towards my artwork but this is a very disrespectful thing to ask of me. I'm not sure if this is an innocent ask, I don't see how it is because I know you've heard black people ask other cultures to not appropriate our hairstyles but I could be wrong, if this is innocent below are my boundaries, and explanations on why I (Kiko Vanity; I'm not speaking for the whole black community) I'd like to not be asked things like this in the future.

my boundaries and why

I do not make hair for people of color. People of color is a broad way to say people who are not of White/European/Anglo-Saxon phenotypes. That means people of Asian, Hispanic/Latino, African, Mixed-Race, and Aboriginal descent; and I create CC for simmers who appreciate my artwork but mainly and ideally create CC HAIRS for simmers of African descent, (including mixed race if they also have African descent) because of the lack of black hairstyles in the initial release of the game in 2014, with that, these black simmers create sims that also reflect their environments and black upbringings. I make black content if you feel comfortable downloading my content you should be comfortable saying black. I want to stress black and not African-American (despite me being African American) because there are different ethnicities for each race, including black people.

2. I am not currently taking hair requests because I'd get too many at one time and that's not great for my mental health. To piggyback off the last sentence and statement 1, please do not request my cultural hairstyles using someone who doesn't respect our wishes. You may be asking yourself, "why is this an issue? hair is hair?" (look below)

During chattel slavery, every fiber of the enslaved Africans' lives was controlled by the narcissistic people who kidnapped them. including hair, being made to cover their hair, and calling them names & degrading them for their natural hair. As the years went by and slavery ended black people but more specifically black fem presenting people held the shame for their hair. Fast forward to today, even with all the turmoil the world is facing due to greed, classism, and the patriarchy) this is the first time in history that their descendants (me being one of them) can set boundaries and say what we are comfortable with and what we are not comfortable with. And to put this as bluntly as I can:

Do not send me videos/photos/gifs of people culturally appropriating in black people's hairstyles, it's anxiety-inducing.

I'd like to also say I'm not angry because I know there is an angry black person stereotype, this is simply uncomfortable and disheartening. I hope you can respect my wishes if not please feel free to block me.

Lastly,

You don't have to respect or do anything I am saying. You may do as you wish after reading this. Just if you are going to engage with me these are my boundaries.

[sheilamurrey]

Integrating the Spirals: Natural healing

Whenever I don’t feel well, or I ponder why anyone is ever ill, I go back to the, Integrating the Spirals™ – session 2 kaleidoscope lesson I’ve offered: I become grateful for the knowledge throughout my life to help my body heal by using: Laying on of hands Chiropractic Wearing natural fiber clothing and shoes, or going barefoot (I only wore leather shoes as a child) Allergy skin testing—but…

[forever-rogue]

Hi!! I've seen you account recently and I was thinking maybe you could write eddie munson x reader when the reader is always so guffy and childish. So reader is sick like have really bad fever and is weary weak, almost fainted because of that and Eddie take kare of them and maybe lullaby them to sleep by singing them and rocking them please

Also English isn't my mother language so please forgive me for any mistakes love you

Feel free to ignore me if you want to byee

AN | No, but Eddie would take such good care of you 🥺🥰

Warnings | sick!reader

Pairing | Eddie x Fem!Reader

Word Count | 2.2k

Masterlist | Main, Eddie 

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

You knew that something was off as soon as you woke up that morning. Your head was pounding, you felt fatigued despite the fact that you’d gotten plenty of sleep, and your throat was taking on a dry, scratchy feeling. 

You’d experienced enough life and were definitely smart enough to put the pieces together. The conclusion to which, naturally, was that you were getting sick and coming down with…something. 

Once you were up and had taken a shower, you walked back into the bedroom you shared with Eddie and found him still sound asleep since he started at his job later than you did. Every fiber of your being yearned to crawl into bed with him and let him hold you…but you also didn’t like to succumb to something so simple. Besides that, if you were getting sick, you didn’t want to be around Eddie too much and potentially get him sick as well. Although by this point, you were sure that he’d probably already be exposed to whatever you had.

It was with a heavy heart and tired bones that you got dressed, made coffee, and headed out the door to work. In an effort to keep everyone else safe, you’d already decided that you were going to lock yourself into your office and keep to yourself. 

Hopefully this wouldn’t turn into anything too bad.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Making it through the work day had been a challenge and a half. It had, realistically speaking, ended about an hour before you were actually off, when you’d managed to fall asleep at your desk. You were thankful for closing the door; it would have been an awkward situation to explain. Your head had been on the desk and you had been drooling…needless to say you were out of it.

You probably should have called and asked your husband for a ride, but you hated the idea of bothering him, so you sucked it up and got yourself home. As soon as you walked in and dropped your bag and kicked off your shoes, you made your way over to the couch and collapsed onto it. A groan escaped your lips at the feeling of your sore body hitting the soft fabric. You grabbed the blanket at the end of the couch and pulled it over you, cuddled up as you gave in and took another nap. Your body was desperately craving it and you were too tired to fight it.

It wasn’t until Eddie came home that you awoke again, and not until you felt his soft touch on your shoulder. Your heavy eyes opened slowly as you found him looking back at you with a look of concern. 

“What’s wrong, princess?” he didn’t miss a beat and you silently cursed how observant he managed to be. You tried to shake your head and reassure him that you were fine but…definitely fell flat. Your throat was dry and scratchy and sound barely came out as you looked at him pathetically, “aww, baby. You’re sick, aren’t you?”

“No,” you croaked out, fooling either of you. Eddie huffed as crouched down and held the back of his hand to forehead. The corners of his mouth tugged into a frown, “I just need some rest.”

“Baby-”

“Really,” you insisted, “‘m fine.”

“You have a fever,” he raised his eyebrows as you fervently shook your head, only making the pounding worse. 

“Are you a doctor now?" There was a pretty pout on your lips that Eddie wanted to kiss sway. You tugged up the blanket so it was covering your face. He chuckled fondly as he brushed your hair out of your face.

"Yes," he cheesed happily, "Dr. Concerned Husband. Now let me take care of you, stubborn thing."

"I can handle myself," your defenses were slowly coming down. Maybe it was Eddie's puppy dog eyes or the ache in your bones; probably a combination of the two. 

"I know you can," he promised softly, "but I don't want you to have to. I've got you."

You looked at him, attempting to be strong, but once you saw those big, brown eyes, you couldn't handle it anymore. The tears started to pearl up and rolled your cheeks as your lip trembled and you sniffled. Eddie silently wrapped his arms around you, holding onto you gently and rubbing your back in soothing circles. You burrowed your face into his chest, long beyond thinking about getting him sick; he clearly didn’t care and you knew that you’d take care of him if the roles were to reverse. A few small, pathetic sounds escaped your lips “‘m sorry for being such a baby. I just feel so shitty.”

“That’s not you being a baby, baby,” he peppered kisses to the side of your head, “that is you have a normal reaction to not feeling well.”

“I just wanna go to bed and sleep,” you pouted at him and he nodded in acknowledgment, silently commiserating with you. 

“I know baby,” he promised, stroking his thumb over the apple of your cheek, “but have you eaten today? Maybe a nice hot shower or bath would help.”

“I ate some yogurt this morning,” you already knew that Eddie was going into full blown mother hen mode, “but I wasn’t feeling good at all, so I didn’t eat anything else.”

“I think you should eat something,” he chided softly, “even if it's just some broth, yeah? Something simple and lots of water.”

“Then maybe a bath?” the idea of soaking your tired, aching bones into a tub of hot water and soft bubbles sounded magical. Eddie nodded softly as you relaxed slightly; if you were being honest, just his mere presence was already making you feel better, “will you join me?”

“As if I’d miss that opportunity,” he teased, brushing his fingers along your jaw. You started to laugh, but it was quickly turned into a coughing fit, “oh honey. You are going to rest here, in a warm little nest, while I go and make some soup. After that it’ll be a bath and then - and  you’re not going to work tomorrow.”

“Eddie.”

“Princess,” he took your face in hands and you could see the love that was etched into his features, “I’m going to take care of you and that’s not up for debate. Yes?”

“Yes,” you promised softly, “I love you.”

“I love you.”

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

“You want me to undress you?” there was a small bit of amusement in his voice as you held your arms and offered him a sheepish little expression, “yeah, you do. Alright, pretty girl, let me help you.”

Eddie’s movements were gentle and tender as he slowly took off your sweater and bra, before following suit with your jeans, underwear and socks. You half expected him to make a comment about the current situation, but tonight he didn’t. Instead he studied you with reverent affection, “don’t - I look horrid probably.”

“On the contrary,” he made it clear that there was no room for argument, “you are the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. You always are - but now, into the tub and do not argue with me.”

“Fine,” you huffed playfully as he held out his hand to help steady you as you stepped into the tub. An unstoppable sigh of relief at the feeling of the warmth and the lavender smell of the bubbles escaped your lips as you eased your body into the tub. Once you were all settled and engulfed in the water, you closed your eyes, “this feels like heaven.”

“Well, this is certainly my idea of heaven,” his smile was beaming as you peeked one eye at him, “but right now I just want to make you feel better.”

“Join me.”

“Don’t you want me to wash your hair? And your body?” he raised an eyebrow in amusement as you shook your head, “never heard you turn that down before. That’s how I know you’re really not doing well.”

“Just wan’ you,” you were ready to plead with this man if you had to, “please, my love? Pretty please with all the cherries on top?”

“You don’t have to beg,” your husband stood up and whisked his shirt, revealing his pale, inked torso - which you shamelessly marveled at - before practically kicking off his jeans. You laughed softly, stopping yourself before it turned into another coughing spell, “you can have whatever you want.”

“Well, I want you,” you scooted over to the other side of the tub so he could get in. Eddie gently lowered himself into the water, grimacing slightly at how hot you liked the water. He made a sound of content as his legs bracketed yours, “hi.”

“Hi,” he whispered back, holding his hand out to you, “you really gonna stay at the other end of the tub?”

“No,” you shrugged, “but didn’t want to assume you wanted me right in your space.”

“I always want you in my space,” he scoffed, “that’s never anything you have to doubt.”

You let him tenderly pull you over, settling on his thighs as you sat back and leaned against his chest. He wasted no time in wrapping his arms around your waist as you sighed wistfully. Eddie pressed a row of soft kisses to your shoulder, and you turned your face to kiss his cheek. 

“This feels nice,” you were already feeling sleepy again as your eyes started to flutter close, “I’m sorry in advance if I fall asleep for a few minutes.”

“I’m not,” you really, really loved this stubborn, strong-willed man, “you need your rest and you’re going to get it. No if, ands, or buts.”

“Yes sir,” you reached for his hand and laced your fingers together, smiling when you felt him give your hand a squeeze. 

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

“Come on baby,” your eyes opened slowly at the sound of his voice as you looked up at him. He was already dressed in clean pajamas, holding out a warm towel for you, “let's get you to bed sleepyhead.”

“I bet you warmed that towel, huh?” you stood up slowly, immediately swallowed by the towel that Eddie wrapped around your body. Just as you suspected, it was extra warm and fluffy, “you did! What an amazing husband you are.”

“Yeah, yeah,” his cheeks flushed a pretty shade of pink as you made sure your entire body was covered, “whatever you say sweetheart.”

He steered you towards the bedroom before pulling back the covers, “bed has never looked so good before.”

“Stay there for one moment,” he was out of the room and running back downstairs before you could even say anything. You saw down on the edge of the bed, already fatigued by the simple act of getting out of the bath. Within a few moments you heard him run back up, breathless by the time he re-entered the bedroom, but grinning nonetheless. He held up your clean, warmed pajamas with a small sound of triumph, “ta-da. All ready for you, baby.”

Without you even needing to say a word, he came over to help dress you, his movement slow and methodical. Once he was done, you were thoroughly warm and sleepy, smiling at him like a fool, “thank you, my love. You are so wonderful.”

“You know I’d do anything for you,” he tossed the towel to the side, a worry for later, before starting to tuck you in, “now you can get some rest.”

“Only if you get in with me.”

“That was my plan,” he pulled the covers up and made sure you were bundled, “I’m just going to get us some water, okay?”

“My hero!”

“Very funny,” he pecked your forehead, “I’ll be back in a moment, baby.”

“I’ll be right here.”

“You better be,” he shot you a wink before reluctantly leaving you, even if it was just for a few moments. 

Eddie tidied up the kitchen for just a moment before getting plenty of water and going back up the stairs. By the time he made it back into the bedroom, you were already asleep and snoring softly. He was glad - you needed and deserved the rest. He set the water down on the nightstand by your side of the bed, making sure to put some medicine there as well.

He brushed the away the few locks of hair that were in your face before kissing your cheek. You made a small sound but didn’t stir otherwise; he was almost positive that a small smile was tugging up the corner of your mouth.

“Good night, sweetheart,” he whispered, turning off the light before walking to his side of the bed. He crawled into bed next to you, delicately as possible so he wouldn’t disturb you, “I love you so much.”

“I love you too, Eddie.”

[redwinterroses]

I like to do this grounding exercise I jokingly call "go touch grass" but honestly it's... almost exactly that.

First you need to go outside. It doesn't have to be far, it doesn't have to be "in nature" -- just somewhere with a bit of wind and sky. A parking lot is as good as a pasture. Make sure you're safe and aware of your surroundings, that you're not about to get run over by a cow or eaten by a moving van.

Close your eyes. Become aware of the surface of your skin. Can you feel the wind on it? Can you feel how it's stronger on one side of your nose and there's a bit of a lee on the other cheek? Can you feel that strand of hair against your neck? Is there sunlight? Feel how you can actually register the heat of it wherever it touches. Maybe the wind competes with the sunlight. Maybe it's cloudy. Maybe there are tiny raindrops that hit your skin. Feel it.

Look down. Really look, like you're five years old again, looking for Special Rocks. Find a bug and follow its path across the pavement. Look at the pattern in the gravel, the way it piles up against the side of your foot. Grind your toe into the ground a bit, see how you cause a mountain range to appear in the dirt. Look at the individual blades of grass, and that dead leaf -- look at its delicate veins. See the little tufts of fibers on the heads of the grassy weeds and how they tremble at the slightest breeze. You can crush them underfoot if you want to -- they'll grow back. Smell the green scent of the broken stems, and then look at how many thousands more blades of grass there are around you, unperturbed.

Look up. See the sky, through the branches or between buildings or over your neighbor's roof. Are there clouds? Look at the way the light filters through them. Tilt your head to the side and see how changing your perspective can heighten your understanding of the shadows. Is there a plane flying over? Maybe a bird? Watch it until it's out of sight. Maybe there are stars. Look closely at their shifting colors and try to name them -- is it blue? or red? or something that's neither?

Listen. Take in one by one the sounds of distant traffic, of a neighbor's washing machine, of the kids next door or the dog three doors down, the birdsong across the creek, the squirrel chittering in the maple tree. Single the sounds out one by one and really listen to them, the way you'd listen to a new song that you're trying to understand the words to. Lick your lips and listen to the sound your jaw makes when you move, or the brush of your hair against your ear, the sound your jeans make as you walk, the crunch of dry grass underfoot or the sksh-sksh of gravel.

Take in every sense with deliberate intent. Focus on your skin, on the tips of your fingers brushing against a brick wall or clasping a porch rail or just rubbing the cloth of your shirt between them. Feel how the air moves over your arms. Listen to the sound of it and the sounds of the world moving around you, whether it's a busy downtown or a rural driveway. Wiggle your toes inside your shoe and be aware of how the pressure changes as you move them. Walk and try to register each shifting muscle as your feet bend, legs picking up and setting down again.

I have bad anxiety -- some weeks worse than others. I've taken to going on a walk every day during my break at work and doing this process as I go. It never fails to make me feel more solid and grounded, and while I've never had much luck with straight meditation, I think this comes pretty close.

You are real, you exist, the world is moving at its proper pace, and all around you life is blooming and growing and shifting and becoming.

"All shall be well, and all shall be well, and all manner of thing shall be well."

[gothprentiss]

hey. hey. i cannot make any inroads on your ethics but hey. hey listen. if you nod along with posts like this one

look into how this stuff is processed sometime 👍

i mean, full disclosure: i do genuinely think “i love animal products ❤️ they’re biodegradable” is kind of antivegan cope because, you know, no one ever seems to be talking about natural plant fibers versus synthetics in these contexts— despite the fact that, on average, they comprise significantly more of your wardrobe and significantly more of your short-term, short-life garments— but also, and more importantly: i do not know what kind of beautiful little production chain is being imagined here, but the idea that you go from sheep or cow or so on to your wardrobe to the compost heap to fresh soil in 5-15 years, zero environmental impact, is really out of touch with most factors of consumption. leather for example can be biodegradable, but a lot of processed leather takes significantly longer to decompose— not as long as pvc, but longer than you use it for— due to the nature of its treatment. if you buy leather goods you are virtually never buying untreated leather; tanning is a chemical process with pretty significant environmental consequences. if you are getting for example a wool coat, the odds that you can afford a 100% wool coat as opposed to a wool-synthetic blend are pretty low; same with sweaters. so maybe you thrift a leather jacket or a vintage 100% wool sweater and get some use out of it. you buy a pair of leather shoes and feel good about it. hey, their treatment and soles probably biodegrade too right? and without any lasting impacts on the environment? and maybe you overcorrect for “vegan item!!” fast fashion greenwashing and end up with items which are pretty much exactly as non-biodegradable as their plastic equivalents, and exactly as short-lived because the quality of low-budget manufacturing these days seems to be constantly getting worse.

i don’t mean to scaremonger or whatever— there really isn’t much of a way out of this unless you have some serious cash to spend. but the idea of a totemic Ecologically Good category of material is obviously out of touch with how most people in the world get their clothes and loudly praising a product which is not actually in practice guaranteed to be better than its plastic substitute is oddly common on this website. cmon there isn’t even a character limit. there’s space to actually say something useful

[marzipanandminutiae]

god a few of the notes on that post about leather are so

“then just stop wearing leather OR pleather!!! nobody NEEDS leather!!!”

okay, I’ll bite: what are we supposed to make shoes out of?

I don’t want to wear plastic clothing. period. if it’s at all possible to avoid. call me crazy, but I don’t consider destroying habitats on a massive scale via microplastic runoff in water and non-biodegradable plastic waste in landfills “more humane,” to animals OR people. I recognize that a lot of people don’t have the luxury of that choice, because synthetics are often cheaper, and I would never judge those individuals for it. but fortunately, I do, and that’s the choice I’ve made

so that leaves the natural materials that are currently commercially viable. leather and fur are out, and by strict v*gan definitions, so are wool and silk. plant-based fibers it is, then!

I live in Massachusetts, USA. let me just lace up my canvas sneakers to go out in the next February blizzard

and I’m sure people who work dangerous jobs like construction will love the sturdy protection of hemp slip-ons

be v*gan if you want to (censoring to avoid tags); I get that it’s usually coming from a place of compassion even if I don’t agree on the execution. but for gods’ sakes, don’t be this out-of-touch. just like I know that not everyone will agree with my personal decisions on how to live the most ethical life I feel I can, please respect that other people’s realities may look different from yours