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kids remind me, often, of the things i've taught myself out of.
i have a big dog. he looks like a deer. he is taller than most young children. while we were on a trail the other day, a boy coming our direction saw us and froze. he took a step back and said: "i'm feeling nervous. your - your dog is kind of big."
goblin and i both stopped walking immediately. "he is kind of a big dog," i admitted. "he's called a greyhound. they are gentle but they are pretty tall, which is kind of scary, you're right. their legs are so long because they are made for running fast. i am sorry we scared you. would you like us to stand still while you move past us, or would you feel more safe in your body if we move and you stay still?'
"oh. i didn't know that about - greyhounds. i think i ... i want to stay still," he said. at this point, his adult had caught up to us. "i'm nervous about the dog," he told her, "so i'm - i'm gonna stay still." she didn't argue. she didn't make fun of him. she just smiled at him and at me and held his hand while goblin and i, with as wide of a berth as we could make, crept our way through.
behind us, i heard him exhale a deep breath and kind of laugh - "he was really big, huh? she said it's because greyhounds have to go fast."
"he was big," she said. "i understand why that could have made you a little scared."
"yeah. next time i - next time do you think i could maybe ask to touch him? when - i mean, next time, maybe, if i'm not nervous."
later, going to a work event, in the big city, i stood outside, trembling. my social anxiety as a caught bird in my chest. i took a deep breath and turned to my coworker. she's not even really my friend yet. i told her: "i feel nervous about this. i am not used to meeting new people, ever since covid."
she laughed, but not in a mean way. she said she was nervous too. she reached her hand out and held mine, and we both took another deep breath and walked in like that, interlinked. a few people asked us - together? - and i told the truth: i feel nervous, and she's helping. over and over i watched people relax too, admitting i feel really kind of shy lately actually, thank you for saying that.
the next time i go to an event, and i feel a little scared, i ask right away: wanna hold hands? this feels a little dangerous. i hesitate less. i don't hide it as much. i watch for other people who are also nervous and say - it's kinda hard, huh?
i know, logically, i'm not good at asking for help. but i am also not good at noticing when i need help. i've trained myself out of asking completely, but i've also trained myself to never accept my own fears or excuses. i have trained myself to tamp down every anxiety and just-push-through. i don't know what i'm protecting myself from - just that i never think to admit it to anyone.
but every person on earth occasionally needs comfort. every person on earth occasionally needs connection. many of us were taught independence is the same thing as never needing anything.
each of us should have had an adult who heard - i feel nervous and held our hand and asked us how we could be helped to feel safe. no judgement, and no chiding. many of us did not. many of us were punished for the ways that we seemed "weak".
but here is something: i am an adult now. and i get nervous a lot, actually. and if you are an adult and you are feeling a little nervous - come talk to me. we can hold hands and figure out what will help us feel safe in our bodies. and maybe, next time, if we're brave, we can pet the dog that's passing.
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Hey, so you posted this list a while ago and it's been living rent-free in my head. Thought I'd toss out a suggestion (no pressure!). Consider: ♞: Caring for each other while ill with Harvey. But! What if Harvey's the one sick? Basically I wanna bundle the Anxiety Husband (TM) in a blanket and take care of him.
The anxiety husband deserves much care. This prompt felt a little trickier in the current climate than it would’ve been otherwise, but I think I’ve found a fair compromise here. Have a little Light Harvo Fluff to soothe your Thursday.
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It’s just a cold, he told you as much when the sniffles started, but Harvey is both doggedly self-sufficient and painfully cautious, and he has as a result spent most of his time locked away in his office upstairs. He’s emerged a few times, cocooned up in his pj’s and a bathrobe and a spare surgical mask to shuffle into the bathroom or stock up on fluids, warning you away with a stern gesture and apologetic eyes any time you tried to get close. But after a week of leaving his meals at the door and listening to the faint sounds of jazz and stifled coughing and sneezing on the other side, his self-imposed quarantine is starting to get the better of you.
And it seems you’re not alone in that. You’re sprawled out on the couch, staring past the tv and watching the sky darken through the windows, trying to work out what to throw together for dinner - you’re sure Harvey must be sick to death of soup by now - when you hear the soft but unmistakable thump of footsteps coming down the stairs.
“Harvey?” You crane your neck as you hear the footsteps turn towards the living room instead of the kitchen. “Everything o- oof!”
The air very swiftly leaves your lungs Harvey settles his bulk unceremoniously on top of you, his worn bathrobe tenting over your knees as he lies down, tucking his face against the side of your neck with a sigh.
“Fever’s gone,” he says, pressing his forehead against you a little more firmly to prove it. His voice is rough, less like his own and more like the rusted croak of a man-sized raven. “Cough’s done. My throat’s a mess and my head’s killing me. But it’s finally going away.”
He lets out a broken hum as you wrap your arms around him, settling into the comfort of closeness after so many days.
“Hm.” You thread your fingers through his hair and let your other hand wander along the broad expanse of his back. The weight of him pushes you deep into the cushions, but it’s comforting rather than smothering. And Yoba, but you’ve missed this. “So are you finally gonna let me take care of you now? It was driving me nuts having you locked away up there.”
The sigh he lets out is heavy and sweet as he nuzzles into your warmth. “I’d like that. I wanted to before, I just I wasn’t about to get you sick for the sake of a little comfort.”
“Softie. Don’t want to spend the whole winter passing one cold back and forth, huh?”
He chuckles, the sound high and whistling. “Wouldn’t be much of a doctor if I did, would I?”
“Guess not.” You let the hand in his hair trail down, brushing across the shaggy stubble on his unshaven cheek. “Are you hungry?”
“Starving. Just promise me no more soup. If I have to eat another can of Campbell’s I’m going to turn into a Warhol painting.”
“No more soup,” you promise solemnly. “Let’s see, post-cold comfort food. I can do meatloaf, there’s still some ground beef in the fridge. How does that sound?”
He groans. “That sounds amazing.”
“See now I know you’ve been sick.”
He laughs a little rustily, and works his arms under your shoulders to hold you.
“Baby if you want me to cook you’re going to have to let me up.”
Harvey nods, but doesn’t move an inch. “In a little bit.”
There’s an old granny square afghan draped over the back of the couch, another remnant of your grandparents that had been tucked away in the attic. You pull it down, wrapping it around his shoulders and tucking the haphazard sprawl of his hair under your chin.
“Missed you, Harvey,” you tell him, kissing the top of his head.
The press of his lips against your throat is warm and dry. “I missed you, too, sweetheart.”.
This won't leave my brain so hermitblr can have it.
But what if you get scars from how you died? A genral concept right, you get shot in the back with an arrow? Scar. Another player high fixed you in the face with an axe? Face scar.
One man on hermitcraft who is notorious for racking up deaths has earned himself this nickname. GoodtimeswithSCAR.
This won't leave my brain so hermitblr can have it.
But what if you get scars from how you died? A genral concept right, you get shot in the back with an arrow? Scar. Another player high-fived you in the face with an axe? Face scar.
One man on hermitcraft who is notorious for racking up deaths has earned himself this nickname. GoodtimeswithSCAR.
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Sausage seeking redemption from his past misdeeds has finally gained his wings.
Joey dedicated to his monstrous desires has become a monster himself.
Katherine, a follower of the overgrown has now become a part of the flowering deity.
Shrub, who gave up her identity has lost her true form, only obscured by shadows.
Lizzie, who always bragged about her power and oppulence, ruling from a throne of diamonds has become a tiny trash gremlin, consuming the trash of others.
Joel who loved his aquatic wife with everything but was blind to anyone else’s problems can no longer be loved by the ocean, instead only being hurt by it.
fWhip now a pillager and a wizard of the mountain reminding him of someone that he was always connected to in a past life.
Scott in his past life, a follower of a god always seeking the light has been reincarnated into a bug, tiny and insignificant seeking something so arbitrary.
Jimmy, an inanimate object brought to life by magic, is just happy to be alive. His natural defenses working overtime to keep him that way.
Been a little while since I did full piece but heres Harvey and my farmer. Harvey may be tall but he likes to be held and no one will tell me otherwise.
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This was easy and hard to do. There are a LOT of headcanon ideas I had for him but I didn’t want to make this SUPER long so, here be a few!
Harvey is definitely the type that will ask you before doing anything. Literally anything.
“Is it okay if I take you out for dinner tonight?” “Can we cuddle when I get off work?” “Am I allowed to make you breakfast tomorrow morning?”
Always assure him he doesn’t need to ask. He will learn in due time that he can just pull you onto the couch and cuddle while feeding you something he made for dinner. You will not mind.
Speaking of cuddles, PLEASE CUDDLE THIS POOR BOY!
He absolutely loves to cuddle! Especially when he comes home from the clinic and is just exhausted and you pull him on the couch and let him lay on you. He melts!
He also loves when he can be your pillow after a rough day. Being able to hold you is one of the best feelings to him. He will never want to let go.
Gets a bit nervous when you lay on his belly just because he is a bit self conscious about his weight, but still enjoys it.
Will 100% play with your hair.
He may or may not have asked almost every girl in town to help him learn how to do different hairstyles just so he could keep himself occupied while you nap on him.
Master a braiding hair
Also loves when you play with his hair! Its a very comforting feeling and helps him fall asleep rather quickly.
Is always helping out around the house and the farm
100000% loves to cook for the both of you, even if he isn’t the best at it.
Loves your cooking. He doesn’t care if it’s the same dish every night for a week straight, he will compliment it every single time.
Over all, a very lovey boy who is just the happiest man alive
theartofmadeline
gamechangershow
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titsay
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