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Daisy’s Vacation outfit

She slays, I hope we can agree

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✨🩸

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WEREWOLF CITY

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post valentines day with fur everywhere

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Wet Beast Wednesday

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"I'm not in trouble am I, sir?"

See he's just a good wolverine, no nefarious business here, no sir!

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Artwork by @Saltypoundcake (Spookeedoo)

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It’s me!

Artistic Freedom commission for @daneydu! Thank you again for commissioning me!

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もふもふクッション 

Artist: wbcat

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two voids don’t make a light.

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Wolf Biter

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Maurice Sand, Werewolves leaning against the wall of a cemetery at night, 1858

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Head Above Water

After having spent two weeks in Florida with my family, expecting my Father to die and then seeing him bounce back and attempt his next few months of recovery, I can't help but feel like I'm drained. Both emotionally and mentally, that was a very exhausting and traumatic experience. Flying down to Florida, with the understanding that a family member was nearing their end of life, and trying my best to support both my Mother and siblings was.... Heartbreaking. I'm thankful I had my partner fly down to support me through the toughest parts of it. But I can't help but feel shattered right now.

As a child, I remember my parents telling me that they would always be there for me and they would never let anything bad happen to me. It was a consoling thought and made me feel loved and safe. As an adult, I realize these are things parents tell their children to bring them hope and comfort during tough times. I can't imagine though how it must have felt saying that and knowing that it wasn't fully true. People don't live forever and we only have so much time with our loved ones.

During my time in Florida, one day really stood out to me though. It was a Saturday afternoon. I went with my partner to the hospital to see my Dad. My Mom was already there and in the hospital room, my Father looked so helpless. He was doing better at this point but I could tell he started losing hope he would go back home. I can remember the rollercoaster of emotions I was feeling when he turned to me and said that he thought this would be the end for him. That broke me. Hours later, I was in the car with my partner, crying and just verbalizing what I was feeling.

One thing came to mind during this talk with him. I remember hearing a piece on the radio years ago about losing family and handling grief. One man, a priest, had both his Father and Brother diagnosed with terminal cancer. He mentioned he had always been there for community members to console them in times like this but found he had no one to reach out to for support at times. In moments like these, we grasp onto any chance of control we can get to make things better. To fight things that are being taken away from us, to which we have no power to really hold ourselves. But the one phrase that helped him process his situation with his dying family members was "Death, please be gentle." I mentioned that in the car and broke down.

A few days later, my Dad would begin to recover and the earlier fear of him dying disappeared. But I know it's not something that will last for long. Cancer is awful and takes so much from our loved ones and those who fight it. And as I type this, I can feel the subtle pressure of emotions I felt those two weeks being down there. And that phrase keeps circling back. "Death, please be gentle." I have no control over this situation. All I can do is support him and provide the best quality of life he has left.

But that loss of control, the heavy waves of various emotions, the spiraling anxiety accompanied with doom and grief, the fear of suffering and loss... Everyday, I remember saying that I would need to see a therapist after all of that (and will, eventually). I feel less of myself now than I did months ago. And any bit of myself that finds comfort throughout the day, that looming storm out in the ocean that is death makes its presence known. The waters further out become choppy. I can feel the wind pick up and snap at me. Those waters were so deep and cold for those two weeks. I could barely keep my head above water then and I know that storm will make landfall again.

I know I can't plan for something like this. There is no control or bargaining for this at all. All I can do is keep that tether attached to my ankle and pull my board back to me when I can. But at what point do I swim to shore? And is that even possible? When do I get out of the water? Or can I even do that now?

For now, I'm ok. I'm collecting my thoughts still, I'll be returning to my gym routine and getting back on my diet soon. I know I should focus on the positives right now and not what the future holds. My Dad is in rehabilitation and my Mother is hopeful she has more quality time with him.

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