#i'm going to be sappy for a bit

[glacierruler]

Just want to thank my followers and random strangers, for liking and/or rebloging (reblogging? idk how to spell this) my stuff. You all are making me so happy rn, and I feel so sappy saying this. That's it, that's all.

[iwritenarrativesandstuff]

I've always felt that it'd be Killua who initiates the first hug we see between him and Gon

[savage-rhi]

I have a doctor's appointment coming up that's going to cost $339 out of pocket after insurance.

I have crochet scarves and a shawl/scarf I'm selling to try to put a dent in the price. They're comfortable and made with love.

Each one costs $50.00 + shipping (tb calculated).

**At this time, I can't ship outside the US. The shipping fee may be waived for folks in the states depending on location.

**I don't mind commissions. If you want something in particular, let's talk.

**I charge based on material costs and my time. My time is valuable most of all cause I'm disabled.

**Please message me if you'd like to purchase one

Thanks for looking 💙

[bookshelf-in-progress]

A Day Late: A Beauty and the Beast Retelling

Beatrice scrambled through the rose garden, tripping over the deep gold skirts she'd worn specifically to look nice for her host. Where was Beast? He wasn't in the library, dining room, conservatory, aviary, music room, ballroom, study, parlor, billiard room, or any of the castle towers. She'd thought she'd find him brooding in a melancholy corner, awaiting her return, but she was running out of melancholy corners and beginning to get frustrated. Where could an eight-foot-tall dog-tiger-monkey man possibly hide?

The garden had changed. The usual balmy summer had become oppressively hot and humid. The roses drooped. The damp air clung to Beatrice's skin and red curls escaped her hairpins and frizzed around her face. Where were the sparkling sunshowers that kept the gardens moist? Where were the playful breezes that kept the air fresh and cool? Beatrice hadn't seen so much as a fluttering curtain to indicate the presence of an invisible servant. Everything was silent. Still. Dead.

Half-mad with anxiety, she raced down cobbled paths and across the wide lawns where she and her Beast had played so many games of croquet. Past fountains where they'd splashed each other in ferocious water battles. She trampled beds of pansies and tore holes in hedges and prayed the invisible gardener would forgive her. If Beast meant to get revenge for her delay in returning, he was doing an excellent job of it, but when--yes, when--she found him, they would have words about how a single day of waiting did not justify throwing your guest into a blind panic.

She checked every bench in the garden, navigated the entire hedge maze, and even took a raft to check the bottom of the lily pond. When she came ashore, she leapt a short hedge and found herself at the far end of the south lawn, where the lush grass gave way to rougher scrub as the palace grounds approached the surrounding woods. A creek babbled over stones, separating forest from palace, and not far from its bank, Beatrice saw a lump of tawny-striped fur covered in a familiar blue cloak.

Beatrice raced to Beast's side and found him barely conscious. His fur was dull, his eyes were glassy, and he panted in the heat. The sharp teeth sticking out of his pointed muzzle were as dry as his black nose.

Beatrice struggled to catch her breath, then gasped, "Beast! What happened?"

Beast lay curled up on his right side, legs bent to his chest like a newborn babe, while he clutched his long tail in one monkey-like hand. Softly, he said, "You broke your promise." 

How could he be so maddening? "It was one extra day! I haven't seen my family in nearly two years! I thought you could manage without falling into a melancholic decline!"

Beast squeezed his eyes shut and clenched his jaw against some internal pain. "I told you. Three days only. Or I waste away and die."

"I thought it was a metaphor! You know how dramatic you get!"

He shook his head. "Rules of this place."

Beatrice's stomach sank. Though the sun shone hot as ever, it seemed to Beatrice as though a cloud had blocked all the light. She didn't...he couldn't...

Had she killed him for one extra day at home?

She clenched her jaw to hold back tears, furious that she was even considering wasting time by crying.

Beatrice pulled off the Beast's cloak, revealing that he was clad in the loose white shirt and rough brown trousers he typically wore in the gardens. She knelt beside him and snarled, "You can tell whoever runs this place, from me, that I am sick to death of their rules." She started loosening the shirt's laces, grinding out words with each piece of the string she yanked from the bindings. "Life imprisonment because my father stole a rose. Required daily marriage proposals. No dessert unless you eat the vegetables first. And now this!" She pulled out the entire string and threw it aside in a huff. "And worst of all, you follow those rules. You call yourself a beast, but you're just a fluffy little chicken."

Beast grimaced, and sounded apologetic as he rasped, "Not like...those rules. Law...like gravity."

Oh, was he really going to lecture over semantics when he was dying? "And that one's breakable! Haven't you heard? There are men in the south who fly in balloons. You can break any rule you want if you've got enough gumption." She grasped his muzzle in her hands and turned his head so he met her eyes. "Do you understand? You are not going to die on me."

Even though he could barely hold open his eyes, a corner of his wide mouth twitched upward. Good. He had enough life in him to laugh at her. "I'll try."

"You will do more than try." She stood and looked around wildly, desperate for something that could help. Where were those servants?

"You're just overheated," she said, willing it to be true. "Nothing to do with me. You're the one who came out here covered in fur in this eternal July."

Water. She needed water. She rushed to the creek and cupped what she could in her hands. She brought it back to him and he lapped at the scant film of droplets that she managed to hold through her mad flight. It barely dampened the tip of his tongue, yet Beatrice rushed back to the creek again, again, again, not knowing what else to do and thinking that any water was better than leaving him here to fetch other tools. Knowing him, he'd die the minute she walked away.

She babbled as she worked. He couldn't die so long as she kept him distracted, right? "It was one extra day. I didn't think you'd mind. My eldest sister has a new baby. The smiling-est thing you've ever seen. Four months old. I nearly stuck her in my bag and brought her with me. I couldn't leave so soon when there were babies."

Beast lapped weakly at the water in her hands, his eyes shut, as if merely moving his tongue was exhausting.

"My father begged me to stay," she said, desperate for him to understand. "He's gotten so old since I last saw him. I was afraid he'd be dead before I got leave for another visit."

Now Beast lay dying, and all she could do was bring sips of water. There had to be a better way to help him.

Her eyes fell on the cloak and inspiration struck. She gathered it up in deep blue folds, carried it to the bank of the stream and dunked it beneath the water. She fumbled it, dripping, into a ball against her chest, then staggered back to where Beast lay and squeezed as much water as she could over his body.

That woke him up. All his limbs jolted and his eyes opened wide.

"Good," she said with triumph, mercilessly squeezing more water from the saturated cloak. "You wake up and pull yourself together."

She squeezed the last of the water onto his tongue, then carried the cloak back to the river, shouting back to him, "You're the only dog-tiger-monkey-man thing in existence, you know. If you die, you'll be responsible for the extinction of an entire race, and you don't want that on your conscience, do you?"

She dunked the cloak back in the stream, shivering from more than the cold shock of the water. I don't want it on mine.

What if this didn't work? What if he died? Would she be set free? Could she even call such a life freedom? What would her life be without his morning grumbling and his terrible jokes? Who would listen to her ramble about the books she never finished? Or try the bread recipes she burned? How could her life have any joy, without him there to ramble through the gardens with her, or trounce her at billiards, or put up new curtains in her room, or talk about...well, everything, in a way she could with no one else?

It didn't matter because he wouldn't die. She couldn't let him.

But there were things she had to tell him.

She hefted the water-soaked cloth, struggling to gather it in her arms. "You know what I decided, in that extra day at home? It wasn't home anymore. Oh, it's nice. My family's there. Good memories. But I was homesick that fourth day. For the palace. For you." She gathered a heavy fold of the cloak against her chest while another one slipped from her grasp. "It seems that I love you. And the very next time you propose, I plan to marry you."

If the situation hadn't been so desperate, Beatrice would have looked back to see Beast's reaction. After she’d refused him five-hundred and twenty-eight times, her acceptance would be a shock. It had shocked her, that night at home, to realize how much she missed the nightly proposals, and how slim her reasons for refusal were getting. 

Behind her, Beast said weakly. "You'll...marry me?"

The cloak slipped from Beatrice's arms, and she cursed under her breath. "Yes, you overgrown throw rug, but first you have to live long enough to do it."

That was unfair. He deserved an explanation. She reached under the water for the cloak, but the current pulled bits of it just beyond her grasp.  "You’re as much a prisoner here as I am, so I can’t blame you for that anymore.  Your face is kind of endearing, now that I’m used to it. And marriage doesn’t seem so terrible now, not if it’s with you. You’re much smarter and kinder and more fun than any of the human-looking men I know. And you’re much more patient with my temper and my tongue.”  

"Beatrice."

Beast's voice, filled with awe, sounded stronger. The dousing must have done him good.

She sprawled across the bank and flailed an arm beneath the water, catching a corner of the cloak. "You’re too good of a man inside to really be a beast. You said once you had human parents, didn't you?"

"Beatrice."

The cloak slipped away again. She stuck her arm in the current, almost up to the shoulder, and snapped,  "Will you quit distracting me?"

At last, she snagged one edge in her left hand and continued, "Not that I mind if you naturally look like that. You can’t help the way you were born. But have you ever considered that it could be an enchantment? Maybe we could find a way to break it, after we’re married.”

"Beatrice, look at me."

Beatrice was offended at the hint of laughter in Beast's voice. Enchantment wasn't a completely ridiculous idea, not in a place like this.

"I know what you look like," she snapped. She rose to her knees and pulled the wet cloak halfway out of the water. "Doesn't mean you always looked like that. Maybe you're enchanted and just forgot about it."

A heavy hand gripped her shoulder. A human hand. A male hand.

Beatrice shrieked and pushed the hand away, scrambling backward along the bank like a crab. A tall, olive-skinned, dark-haired man stood over her, grinning like a madman.

Beatrice glanced wildly around. How had he gotten here? Had he come from the forest? He looked rough enough, wearing nothing but a long white nightshirt. Someone's escaped lunatic relative? Or maybe he was the true master of this place, the one who'd made all those maddening rules.

She looked to Beast for answers--except that Beast was nowhere in sight. No sign of him save the matted grass where he'd been laying a minute ago. Beast had been weak. Vulnerable. Had this stranger finished him off? Perhaps she’d run out of time, and the rules of this place had dissolved what was left of him. 

She reached further up the bank and seized a fallen branch with a thick shaft and a spray of branching twigs. Madman or mad fairy, she wouldn't go down without a fight. She hefted her weapon, pitiful as it was, with all the menace she could muster in her small form. "Stay back!"

The stranger backed away, hands held protectively before him, but his eyes sparkled with laughter. "Beatrice, don't you recognize me?"

There was something familiar in his voice, which might explain how he knew her name. Cautiously, she rose, the branch still held protectively before her, to examine him more closely. Recognition flashed like a lightning bolt. "The narcissist!"

The stranger gaped. "Excuse me?"

Beatrice examined the features. She was right. She was sure of it. She'd know those green eyes and sharp cheekbones anywhere. The clothes were different and the hair was longer, but the face was identical.  "The man with all the portraits!"

How she and Beast had laughed over those portraits, which seemed to haunt every corner of the palace, far outnumbering any other faces in the artwork. The sitter could be seen wearing military dress in the foyer, riding clothes in the library, and evening dress in the ballroom. He had posed in summer, winter, and spring, and had been painted with hunting dogs in autumn. A child version of him had even posed, sulking, next to a standing globe in a portrait hung in a back hallway. She had privately dubbed the subject a narcissist–a man with so many portraits was far too in love with his own face. 

Now the vast array of portraits made sense. He was the master of the castle, maker of the magical rules, come to deal with her now that Beast was...no, he wasn't dead.

She brandished the branch again. "What did you do with Beast?"

"Nothing. You--"

She whacked him with the branch. "I did not kill him!"

He pushed the twigs out of his face and backed away. "Beatrice, my love, please!"

She whacked him in the stomach for that one. "I am not your love."

"Then why," he gasped, doubled over and wheezing, "did you just agree to marry me?"

Beatrice froze. What did he mean? Had he overheard...?

She was missing something here.

She discarded her theories and looked at the evidence afresh. Beast dying. Beast missing. Portrait man here. Wearing shirt a lot like Beast's that was far too big for him. Talking, now that she thought of it, in a voice remarkably similar to her Beast’s. 

She threw the branch aside. "I am the biggest idiot alive!"

The man caught his breath and stood upright, grinning ear to ear. Even his smile looked a bit like Beast's. "I'd agree," he said, in Beast's velvet, teasing tones, "except that I'm still living."

Beatrice leaped toward him, flung her arms around his neck, and buried her face in his shoulder. He smelled of sweat and mud and rotting fur. She’d never smelled anything sweeter. "I told you that you were enchanted."

#

Beatrice sat with her Beast on the riverbank as the sun sank toward the horizon. The enchanted high summer had given way to the mellow autumn of the outside world. A castle full of servants, now visible, roamed the grounds behind them, greeting each other with joy as they celebrated the end of the enchantment, but Beatrice had yet to move from the river’s edge. She had too much to discuss with her prince. 

Her prince. She still couldn't quite wrap her head around it. His Royal Highness Prince Matteo Adriano Edmondo Nicolo, twelfth son of King Inocenzo of Bellarosa, had rejected a fairy’s marriage proposal, and consequently found himself cursed into the form of a beast until a woman accepted his hand in marriage. 

“Was that all it took?” Beatrice exclaimed. “You could have told me sooner!” 

Matteo laughed. “It wouldn’t have been much of a curse if I could have told you.” 

“You could have hinted!” 

“Daily marriage proposals weren’t hint enough?” 

She laughed, acknowledging his point. “What a pair we make–a girl too dense to accept a prince’s proposal and a prince obnoxiously in love with his own beautiful face.” 

Matteo raised one of his perfect dark brows. “Why do you insist I’m vain?”

“Your royal highness, no one needs that many portraits of himself.” 

He threw his hands up in feigned distress. “I’m royal! My mother commissioned them!” 

“You didn’t need to display them so ostentatiously.” 

“You think I had a choice?” His manner suddenly became subdued. “The fae arranged that. Made it impossible to forget what I’d lost.” 

Beatrice took his human hand in hers. “I’m sorry I delayed so long.” 

He pulled her into an embrace. “I’d say you were right on time.” 

Her stomach twisted with guilt. She hadn’t been on time. 

She rested her head on his shoulder, still barely able to believe he was alive and well. She closed her eyes, trying to shut out the mental image of his dying beastly form. “What if I hadn’t accepted?” she asked. “Would you truly have died?” 

She felt the rumble of his answer in her own chest. “Yes.” 

“Why?” 

“Under the terms of the curse, I would remain a beast until you accepted my hand in marriage, or until you left and doomed me to death.” 

She looked up and gaped at him in amazement. “And yet you let me leave.” 

“I wouldn’t die immediately,” Matteo said, “and I couldn’t deny you the chance for happiness. So long as you returned before three days were over, neither of us would come to harm.” 

Despite the risk to himself, he had taken the chance. He had trusted her.

And she’d returned after four days. 

“I nearly killed you,” she whispered. “I’m so sorry.” 

“It’s not your fault. You didn’t know.” 

“I still should have come back when I promised.” 

He ran his thumb along her face. “Under the circumstances,” he said with a laugh. “I think I can forgive you for being a single day late.” 

She put her hands and his shoulders and met his gaze straight-on. “You really are far too forgiving.” 

“You saved me from my curse! I’d be worse than a beast if I refused to forgive you after that.” 

He’d left her such an easy opening. She couldn’t resist the chance to tease him. “You’re worse than a beast now, your highness. You’re not nearly so lovable without the tail."

He became strangely subdued at that.

“Beatrice,” he said at last. “Do you truly wish to marry me?” 

A natural question, perhaps, given her number of refusals. But she really wished he’d quit asking. "Of course I do. It broke your curse. What more proof do you need?"

He looked down, suddenly shy and earnest as a schoolboy. "Do you still wish it? You agreed to marry a beast, not a prince with too many portraits."

Beatrice laughed at that. She couldn’t help it. “How shallow do you think I am? If I agreed to marry you as a beast, I'm certainly not going to refuse you just because you have a little less fur."

His face eased. She was glad. She'd seen him in enough distress today. 

Another thought struck her. "Did you mean it? Do you really wish to marry me, or did you just propose to get your pretty face back?"

Matteo threw back his head and laughed. "Beatrice, darling, I've loved you since the day you tied a knot in my tail for defeating you at billiards.” 

Beatrice grinned, the last of her doubts flying away. "Then it’s settled. I'll marry you, you'll marry me, we both love each other. Does that sound right?"

Matteo pulled her in for a kiss. "That sounds like an excellent plan."

When they pulled apart, a cool wind came off of the river, and Beatrice shivered.

"I wish I had a cloak to offer you, but someone threw mine in the creek," Matteo said.

"You're terrible!" Beatrice said, but she accepted his arm and his escort back toward the palace.

As they crossed the south lawn, Beatrice said, "You know, I'll have to go back to my father's soon. Someone has to tell my family about the wedding."

Matteo nodded. "Of course. Under one condition."

She pulled away and looked up at him in exaggerated disgust. "More rules? I thought we were done with all that."

He waved a hand to dismiss her protests. "I think you'll find these conditions acceptable." He numbered his points on his fingers. "You may return if I can accompany you. And this time, you can stay as long as you like."

"That's two conditions."

"Do you object?"

Beatrice took his arm and continued walking toward the lighted palace. It was good to be home. "Not at all."

[theflyingfeeling]

Seventh Day of Gift-Giving: Seven Nights

Prompt: Light fell through the window, illuminating the couple lying in bed, entangled with each other and perfectly content with it.

The two idiots in love have also been idiots in the kitchen, but not for much longer! 💞

~

After all the food-related disasters, their dinner date had been nothing but lovely, if simple: arriving at the restaurant, it had turned out someone working there knew Olli from one of their music projects back in their conservatoire days and had happily arranged a table for them at the back of the dining hall, hidden away from the hustle and bustle of the restaurant. There they were left in peace to chat about everything that crossed their minds, to make each other giggle by “stealing” food from each other’s plates, or just to sit in silence, finding deep comfort in each other’s easy company. The atmospheric lighting of the restaurant had made Olli’s expression look especially soft, and if they hadn’t, in spite of everything, been in public, Aleksi wouldn’t have hesitated scooting his chair next to Olli’s to whisper sweet nothings into his ear or pull him in for a long kiss, one he had been dying to give him the entire evening.

That was why, after having picked up Rilla from Tommi’s temporary dog daycare, Aleksi was more than happy to be back at Olli’s again, because he couldn’t have pushed Olli against the door to crash their mouths together at the restaurant, could he?

It seemed Olli shared the sentiment, as he was quick to undress Aleksi of his overcoat and wrap his arms around Aleksi’s waist to pull him close, never breaking the kiss but instead smiling into it. 

“Thanks for the date night,” Aleksi said, pulling his mouth apart from Olli’s just enough to form the words before savouring the taste of Olli’s bottom lip again. He could still detect traces of the chocolatey dessert they had enjoyed.

“The best idea we’ve had all week, huh?” Olli’s speech was but slur, with Aleksi nibbling on his lips with great appetite despite having just dined the better part of evening; now, he was ravenous for something else entirely.

“The best idea we’ve had all week so far,” Aleksi murmured in turn. He hoped Olli would get his hint and was rewarded when the shade of Olli’s eyes darkened and his sighs against Aleksi’s lips, cheek and neck became more shallow, more greedy. 

It seemed Tommi had done an impeccable job at activating Rilla all evening, since the dog wasted no time in making herself a nest in her little dog bed and was already settled in by the time Aleksi and Olli stumbled in the bedroom. Aleksi made a mental note of buying Tommi a beer as a thanks the next time they’d hang out, because Rilla’s sleepiness made it possible for him to grab Olli by his hips and gently guide him straight towards the bed, all the while leaving small, soft kisses on his lips.

Throughout the whole dinner, Aleksi’s mind had kept wandering to how amazing it had felt to hold Olli close and keep him there without the fear of rejection, to kiss him without alcohol clouding his judgement or regret banging the door at the back of his head; he was only just beginning to wrap his head around it all. Even now, with Olli’s body pressed against his, eagerly echoing every movement of Aleksi’s own, Aleksi almost wanted to stop and pinch himself to make sure it wasn’t all just another unattainable fantasy, a daydream that would turn into a nightmare when Aleksi would realise that was all it was: nothing but wishful thinking of a fool who had gone and fallen for a friend. 

As if reading his thoughts, Olli let their final kiss linger unnecessarily long before he opened his eyes to look up into Aleksi’s. His pupils were dilated and his eyelids hooded, but his hands were no longer roaming Aleksi’s backside aimlessly but instead slowly caressing his neck and chest before grabbing Aleksi by his shirt and pulling him on top of himself as they fell on the bed.

After the brief interruption, their mouths found the same rhythm effortlessly as a familiar feeling began to set in Aleksi’s lower stomach. Underneath him, Olli let out a long moan, his voice low – and insanely sexy, might Aleksi add – but just as Aleksi had begun to subtly roll his hips against Olli’s, his efforts were interrupted by Olli’s hand on his pelvis and his lips withdrawing from Aleksi's own.

“Aleksi, ummmm…” For one terrifying second, Aleksi paralysed in fear of having done the wrong thing or having misinterpreted Olli’s cues. Olli must have sensed this, for he immediately flashed him a reassuring smile and brought his face closer so their foreheads were touching.

“Is it okay if we just sleep tonight? Let’s just… not rush things, yeah? We’ve got time, don’t we?”

The relief almost brought tears to Aleksi’s eyes. 

(And maybe it did for real, but just a little, mind you.)

“Yeah,” Aleksi nodded, his nose nudging Olli’s. “We’ve got time.” 

Suddenly feeling exhausted (perhaps it was the stress from all the bottled-up pining finally pouring out of him all at once), Aleksi slumped next to Olli on the bed with a quiet oof, careful not to alarm Rilla. Olli turned to his side to face him, his fingers stroking the exposed parts of Aleksi’s hands below the rolled-up sleeves of his sweater. He seemed particularly fascinated by the tattoos on Aleksi’s forearm, tracing them with his fingers. The touch was just soothing enough for Aleksi to ignore that they should maybe change into something more comfortable before they’d cuddle each other to sleep, but then Olli’s lips began to slowly work their magic on Aleksi's own again, so he really wasn’t in the mindset to care all that much.

“Can I help you undress though?” Olli asked him after a series of long, slow, mind-blowing kisses.

As if Aleksi was ever going to say ‘no’ to that.

Once they had successfully (although not without tired giggles) removed each other’s shirts, they spent a good while taking turns at mouthing one another’s bare neck, shoulders and chest with all the care and love they could possibly put in such a gesture. It would have been easy, oh, so easy, to grab Olli with a little more intent, a little more craving, and resume what they had almost started, but Aleksi pushed aside his desires because he did agree with Olli: now that they were finally here, lost in each other’s touch, there was no more rush, no more fear of it all slipping through their fingers. Even when they were already stripped down to just their underwear, with Olli’s bulge pressing against his, Aleksi was content in having Olli by his side exactly like this.

“You’re so fucking lovely, I want you so much,” he told him, the words out of his mouth before he had a chance to evaluate just how sappy and desperate they sounded. Lucky for him, Olli didn’t seem to mind terribly.

When their kisses grew lazier and their hands found peace at last, fingers intertwined, Olli’s soft voice spoke from the dark.

“I want you too. So fucking much. Just… just so you know.”

Such simple words, yet they took Aleksi’s breath away.

I know now, he would’ve said if he had been capable of talking in that moment. Instead he left a light kiss on Olli’s fingers, hoping it might be enough of an answer. Under the touch, the fingers clasped on to Aleksi’s hand tighter, only softening their grip when Olli fell into a peaceful sleep.

‘The best idea we’ve had all week, huh?’ Olli's remark echoed in Aleksi's head.

Sure, Aleksi had agreed then, but if Olli would’ve brought it up again now, Aleksi would’ve answered differently.

The best idea we’ve had? This. Us.

[theadventurek9]

I'm feeling a little extra about this nationals issue. To be honest this could very well be Aayla's last chance to do a nationals for agility. At least all the classes. I keep feeling the bitter let down of again having a nationals ripped from our grasp, again.

In 2020 we were qualified to go to Cynosport, and it just happened that they were holding it only 2 hours away from our home. It got cancelled due to Covid and Aayla started limping the month before Cynosport would have happened. So even if Covid wouldn't of happened, I would have scratched her from competing.

With ASCA having a 12" category and smoother courses there is a chance for us this year. But, Aayla is turning 8 next month, has elbow dysplasia in both elbows with some mild arthritis. Agility is strictly a just for fun and on occasion sport for her now. Anything we enter I am on high alert for how she feels before, during and after and scratching her is always on the plate. Will she be okay to compete at 9 years old? I don't know, but the likelihood drops each year.

She is so good at this sport, she is fast and loves it. I want a nationals to show everyone. I know she doesn't care but I want everyone to know how amazing she is. We didn't get her MACH or ATCH with any venue. I'm not even considering an ASCA ACE title (like preferred agility champion). Yet I have this panic filled dread that without championships to her name, that I will have failed her potential. As long as something drastic doesn't happen, she will get her RACH. Yet I want more for her.

I know that this is stupid and doesn't really matter, especially not to Aayla. She is just happy training and playing. Yet out of all the dog's that I will have in my life, I know that she is going to be that one special one that no one else will come close to. Yet with my experience and ability to train and trial more, its likely I will have dogs that will get MACHs, OTCHs and so on. Yet none that will be like her and I don't want that overshadowed. I know in my bones that she could have gotten all of it if her body had allowed and I had the money to trial her more often.

Its such a silly thing, but I feel like it's not fair.

[norsenby]

if you think any of my drawings are cute (or hot), just know it's because I'm channelling the energy of my wife and our relationship into them. I love her so much u_u

[moonscape]

[bleeding-hart]

God I can't fuckin catch a break my adhd keeps pelting me with so many things to be obsessive about and my autism makes sure that if I don't interact with them I'm gonna feel like my chest is being torn out and I'm dying slowly but my adhd doesn't let me actually choose one to interact with cause it keeps bringing up the others but my autism is panicking about that because I need to have a Thing to do

I just want to like. Read, write or draw in peace. Is that too much to ask for. Five minutes

I missed having a hyperfixation when I didn't for a month or so but I forgot how extreme my brain gets about them ig they're called hyper for a reason

[solarisgod]

Been having a night where I'm just. Feeling so much more hopeful about our future, which is such a very rare thing, but because of recent personal events and my cluster, I've definitely been a lot more happier than I was for almost four months straight, especially last month that was brimmed with negativity and anxiety for me while the beginning of March was extremely hard. But a lot of good things are happening to us and esp. me, and I just have this really good feeling everything will indeed be all okay in the end. I really do hope for those who's been struggling lately or for a long time that they will soon be able to have signs that everything will be okay while they can find that hope about their own futures. It takes so much time and patience and strength to endure it all and work with it, but the pain won't be like this forever, I promise.

[sophiethewitch1]

🫶 thanks for responding back! i appreciate all the hard work you’ve planned out for us 🎉 i can’t wait to see more of the darker themes fleshed out at the end of the first part, i will be waiting patiently LOL 👍 in terms of yandere, how bad do you think it will be? what do you have planned in that department?

also i hope you get better soon 😅 please take breaks and certainly take your time!

well ive said that its very mild on the yandere side even later on in the slowburn. its barely yandere more, like... obsession??... at least for the first while. the yandere part is more just there as a warning because I don't want to shock people with the small bit of dark content there will be. i really don't like yanderes that hurt reader (they just don't make sense to me. yandere to me is about having too much love, and you wouldn't hurt someone you loved??) and like,,,, spoiler cut here but like, these are all things that are in the tags/warnings/just information around

i need happy endings. i cant handle even the slightest bit bitter ending it hurts me physically. i am writing a happy ending. it will take grovelling, compromise, and probably fixing the universe but idc. i will uncritically romanticise toxic relationships. i can fix him he can fix me we will fix ourselves for each other. THATS ROMANCE BABEY!!! ITS BEING YOUR BEST SELF BECAUSE YOU LOVE SOMEONE!!! AND YANDERE IS ABOUT LOVE. ITS ABOUT LOVE!!!! ALWAYS LVOE!!!!

[patchesbeanie]

i've had such a good day like seriously i'm feeling really happy <3 uni ending for the summer and meeting lots of friends that i haven't been that close to before has had such a big impact on my happiness!!! i've used social media much less and tumblr is my only crazy place where i can let loose and blog about silly minecrafters :D lots of things have happened in the fandom, both good and bad, but seeing how happy dteam are and how they've been able to live their lives more freely after the meetup has also made me so happy!!!!!!! some things do get better and i hope all of you are having a happy spring too <3

[placesyoucallhome]

you know what would fix me? drawing shippy shit yeah totally

[mintjeru]

super tuna!!!!!!! my entry for the wootteo event happening on weverse rn

open for better quality | no reposts | ID under the cut

[Image description: A digital drawing of Wootteo reeling in a tuna from the ocean. Wootteo looks at the fish with star-shaped eyes. The tuna fish is teary-eyed and terrified. A bright blue sky with a couple of clouds is seen in the background.]

[gendzl]

watched p&p 2005. immediately turned on the director's commentary and watched it again.

[jtownraindancer]

Just a shout out to y'all:

I didn't used to put a lot of stock in tumblr with the fact that so many of us keep mostly anonymous on here, but I genuinely have come to love quite a few of you, and I can't thank you enough for being part of my life. You make these days worth living. Love you guys, and I hope each of you are having a good day/night 🧡💛🤍💙