#the lyrics in the 2nd and 3rd ones are from run rabbit run by the hoosiers

[druidshollow]

did some off string doodles tonight teehee :)

[fandom-sheep]

MCC 24 JUL 21

Green Guardians and Pink Parrots Part 1/2

Alright I’m finally back! I’m only half watching while I clean my room but it’s fine.

I’m watching Fundy’s POV on my main screen and Ranboo’s on my phone where I’m typing this.

Ranboo pre game stream let’s gooo.

I’m so very entertained by the background Tubbo noises.

He’s so happy. I don’t know if I have it in my to watch Fundy’s POV even though I’m cheering for the Green Guardians.

Sands of time. Let’s go!

We are going to hear these boys in each other’s backgrounds.

This has “mom can we play Minecraft at our sleepover” vibe.

Phil’s streaming. Where is the fox boy…

Boys trying to out noise each other.

Please tell over to tubbo about how loud he is being. It would be funny.

It’s so much fun watching this boy achieve his goals. I love watching people achieve their goals.

Actual MCC server!!!

Good time for screeny. Nobody is chilling.

BURGER!

I saw him! I saw that fox run past!

“Ahh” - Ranboo

“Aaaa” -Tubbo

“Ahhhh” -Ranboo

“Aaaa” -Tubbo

High school ish age boy in competitive scenario. This will be so much fun.

Microphone magic time!

Hey I hear the boys!

And it works well.

It does echo???? How???

“It was a joint effort. I came up with some bad ideas you came up with the idea that works.” -Tubbo

Also known as every other group chat I’ve ever been in.

Lmanburg flag at rally?

What?

No. Let’s do free clout.

Ranboo being a problem.

Why is everyone in that VC?

What problems are these children causing.

Fundy is live! Where is my iPad time to dual wield streams.

Spatula???

Dual spatulas.

It’s time to start!!!

Where is the fox?

You know. I might reverse it. I might have to watch Pink Parrots mainly and just ignore green guardians.

I’m going to put Wilbur on my iPad so I can see the chaos man. Now to decide which POV I’m listening to. Probably Ranboo. Wilbur on mine is slightly behind.

They asked if Wilbur was going change his skin? That never happens. He had to wear the sweater of shame at Christmas time.

I have them both almost perfectly sinced but it’s at the point it almost sounds echoed.

No it’s just tubbo who sounds echoed.

Nope can’t get it to sync. Just listening on my speaker.

No surround sound here. Unless I get really board.

Manifesting the win?

Manifolding the win.

Bavid.

Time to annoy the other teams.

From here on I’m going to try to be productive while I watch. Wait no. The music isn’t in sync with the one I’ll mostly be watching.

Oh I forgot TapL was there. Nope it’s not syncing. Just going to have Ranboos on my phone be secondary.

Wilbur POV let’s go.

We trash talking. Look at them go.

Ahh. English area codes. What the enigma.

Let’s win pink parrots!!! How do I always end up cheering for this team…

I need to make pink parrot art.

Oh no. Just Wilbur.

Oh no. It’s all Tubbo.

Wilbur reminds me of a good camp counselor motivating his team. Not like one of my coworkers.

My brother isn’t home today so we can’t have a watch party like we wanted.

My mom is confused with my and my brother’s investment in MCC but we told her it was the national championships of Minecraft.

Oh poor Fundy tagging on the other side.

I need to remember to collect channel points.

I’m sorry why is my internet acting stupid. Work you!

Pink and purple. The tween girls second most idea color pallet.

They are over motivating the Soot.

Thought Wilbur was going to explode from peer pressure there.

Yooo. I figured out how to watch Fundy! I can split screen my ipad between the app and the website. Tiny Fundy screen and big Wilbur screen and tiny Ranboo screen on my phone.

They can’t warn fast enough.

Time to watch and ad and support Wilbur because it got too far behind for my liking while I fought with the tiny Fundy screen.

I need to put away the books I’m pressing flowers in. But I don’t want to mess up the flowers.

Wonder how soon I’ll have to start a new post because I ran out of bullet points.

Nah I’m not keeping Fundy’s POV open. I want full screen Pink Parrots.

Music brain made the lyric connection.

I could drink 3 bottles of water every round.

The boys with the superior bladders.

What happened with Wilbur? What I didn’t see anything happen with the stream.

Nox crew role play??? What?

Wait. Did red team just fall into the void?

What?

I found a skirt and I’m wondering why I don’t wear it more often.

It goes down to my knees I could even wear this to church.

Offhand wool!

Time to battle in the box!

Exciting death boots.

Go!!! Do wool! Get em!

Oh wow. They both died. At the same time.

They can hear the Tommy. That’s how well these dudes know one another.

Bragging on each other.

Everyone surprised that Wilbur is entering his old man years.

Woohoo!

Random history moments with Tubbo.

Woohoo (again)!

Ranboos just going to jinx it.

Oh no I need my charger!

Got my charger! Rejoined at “Minecraft butts make big… videos” and am quite confused.

Skilled boys!!

Poof goes the Bur.

They beat Dream???

Casually refolding every bandana I own while watching battle box.

I found a peppermint tea bag.

Come on get mid! Noooo.

Pink parrots doing pretty good from what I see in MCC live.

I thought Ranboo had an actual burger on his face cam. I was so confused for a moment.

Yelling across the room casually.

Wilbur is back. You can hear him.

Wilbur is like a kid trying to get a duck out of the pond.

Sky battle?

Shake? Shake shake shake?

Oh no. Now all the chat is crying over Ghostbur. Myself included.

Pink parrots on top so far! Never mind that didn’t last long.

Go Wilbur! Go Tubbo! Go Ranboo! Go TapL!

Wilbur go poof.

3rd atm.

Oh we’ve gone down.

No he was not good. But he paved the way for TapL.

We’re in 2nd?? Are the other teams dead or something?

If we’re going down and yelling timber.

4th. Not bad.

Woohoo!

Go green guardians!!

So proud of them.

Pants and Boots!

Still in 6th for sky battle.

Bless his heart TapL is so worried.

Red Rabbits and Green guardians are close.

My streams are out of sync. So confused.

We’re in lead!!

WE WON!!!

My iPad is struggling with Will’s stream but it’s going!

Come on Parrots!

Alright got it up again. Got it up again.

If I were a streamer I wouldn’t be good at MCC. I can’t competitive properly. I just like making jokes and being goofy.

Not a good lead but oh well never mind we don’t have the lead.

Red Rabbits YUM.

“Do not engage” as they set off tnt.

Get those stupid rabbits! Or whoever is attacking. I’ve never been good at any sports.

First again!

Hold on guys!

They won!!! With Wilbur hovering on the edge of the void!!!

PINK PARROTS FIRST PLACE (for now but I’m still excited)

Talented team!! Look at them go!

Get your screen shot little Y/N fan boy.

Not surprised we’re more popular than the olympics.

Had to go brag to my parents that there are more people watching MCC than the olympics. They were also not surprised.

Sands of Time. The wildcard game.

Sand sand sand sand.

We have a key for a vault already?

Putting away shoes. Nothing to make you be productive like watching Minecraft peeps play a competitive game.

“Everywhere is a way into somewhere”

Come on boys.

Time to switch to Ranboos POV. See if I can spot that N with my grown up can spot things vision.

Nope don’t see this mysterious letter.

TapL if you got nothing to do bother Ranboo to help him find that N.

Calm Tubbo. Tubbo chill.

Really. The map is broken and they are taking forever helping.

Key!!! Fight Fight Fight.

Ranboo apologizing.

If his team loses this kid will blame himself.

Go Tubbo and Ranboo.

Vault open!

Out of sand = prepare to book it.

1:30 (90 sec) let’s go.

Less than a minute. Evacuate!

Oh no Ranboo is lost. Hurry kiddo!

They made it?

They made it.

Off goes the Wilbur. Now to wait.

Come on pink parrots.

Is it bad I can’t see sands of time coins in MCC live or am I just crazy?

5th. Better than I expected.

THEY ARE STILL FIRST???

Barely. But they are.

We get to vote now?!?

Quick to the voting!

I had to fight Twitter to vote.

The app didn’t want to work.

What’s the acronym one?

I’m sorry did I just hear that Wilbur taught Tubbo how to spell fuck?

Ranboo has the iron bladder.

I drank so much water but I just kinda do that.

Listen to Wilbur getting soft and encouraging Ranboo in his first game.

And Wilbur wanting him back. And planning to manipulate Scott.

Doesn’t surprise me that Wilbur would manipulate Scott. I know he probably doesn’t but still.

Look at all us audience beings.

Hooray David. I don’t know who you are but sup.

I’m sitting on a yoga ball to type and I about fell off. That wouldn’t have been fun.

All of Wills chat blessing him.

David just did the vocal equivalent of 👍🏻

Ooo I found a dollar.

And of course Tubbo likes the olympics. Trampoline boy should love them.

Nooo. Not tubbo!

Whoopsy. There go the parrots.

Why does my Wilbur stream keep goofing. See this is why I don’t actually liveblog I am so behind it’d be delayed anyway.

Instead of replacing with Phil replace with Kristen.

Keep it up Pink Parrots keep it up. *clap clap*

Where is my old cheerleading book?

Oh this is so behind. I saw ranboo fall on his POV then waited a few moments to see him on Wills.

Let’s reset it again for now. Look like it’s close. And I got an ad this time.

If it gets super behind again I’m going to just switch to Ranboo on my iPad and see if that works.

Wills is slightly ahead now. That’s how I like it.

Wilbur is such a motivating human. I swear I keep thinking that I’m hearing my coworkers encouraging campers at a kickball game or something.

Oh we’re dropping. But we’re still going.

How the actual hay are we still here.

Keep it up TapL!!

2nd!

300 and a bit to get back to first.

Look at Ranboo and Wilbur. So happy.

Ok singy boi with the ability to do one sound for a long time.

I want TapL on DSMP. It would be funny I like this guy. What does this guy stream? I want to start watching him.

Ace Race? I love ace race.

Ooo buildmart. Used to be my favorite but now no one hates it anymore.

I like least liked games. Least liked games act as great equalizers. No one is happy and it’s funny.

“You have such a way with words” -TapL (?)

“Thanks I’m a song writer” -Wilbur

Why are we doing dramatic monologues?

Sounds neat. I like this deep story.

Who is dying? What? I zoned out for a minute.

Cant wait to see that audio appear on tiktok.

You go Wilbur. I believe in you.

You go Ranboo become a lover or hater of Ace Race.

“I keep on stabbing people in the butt with my fork” -Ranboo

Again can’t wait to see that audio appear on tiktok.

I love Wilburs angry “which glitch” he’s experienced all of them.

No don’t stop Wilburs channel! I’ll watch an ad but let me watch ace race.

Ranboo has learned to dislike ace race.

Feels like a achievement. You have made Ranboo hate ace race.

Tubbo did it! Whoop!

Good job Will!

Good Job team!

Second team to finish!!!

Wait it says they are in 3rd on MCC live?

Phil Head!

Hey 1st. Good job Parrots!

The perspective I watch doesn’t matter. All I see is shifting at Wilbur either way.

Ranboo booked it.

Techno. Oh how we miss him. He was there last MCC but still.

Wait why are they in the soggy? I missed it?

Dunk tank?

End on build mart! Everyone sounded so sad! I’m so happy! I picked the right team!

Oh acronym is terra swoop force!!! Go Philza.

I’m practical shot who will win.

Pink Parrots doing actually pretty good according to MCC live.

Good job guys!

Resetting Wilburs stream while nothing is happening so I don’t miss anything later.

OH WAIT STUFF IS STILL HAPPENING I SEE IT ON RANBOOS!

Oh final text block. I’m going to have to make 2 posts.

[choco-ramyun]

Love Songs · (Part 1)

Pairing: Yoongi x Reader (BTS)

Genre: Fluff with a hint of Angst (later on Smut as well)

Word Count: 2,969

Description: You go to a studio, hoping that you can get your songs produced there. When you get there you run into someone special. (Musician!AU)

With shaking hands, you push open the heavy, cold door to the studio. You place your soaking wet umbrella near the entrance and head towards the secretary. “Okay Y/N, just relax, everything will be fine.” You reassuringly whispered to yourself.

You’ve been trying to find a place at a studio for months now, but everywhere you went they either had no free places left, or they simply didn’t think you were talented enough. It was really starting to frustrate you. You left your hometown and came to Seoul just so you could find a suitable studio for you. Due to the apartments being so overpriced, you were currently living in a shabby motel, but it luckily was quite central. You spent almost your whole life surrounding yourself with instruments, but your favorite always was the piano. You were quite skilled at every instrument, but while playing the piano was when you truly felt at ease. You always felt very shy about singing, but every time you did, you always received positive feedback. You were incredibly anxious because this was the last studio on your list. If they didn’t accept you here, then you’d most probably have to wait for ages until a different studio accepts you, and you really weren’t up for that.

With small steps, you approached the secretary. She was sitting at her desk, blankly staring at the computer display. From outside the building looked quite shabby, but from the inside, it looked very modern. “Uh... Hello. I made an appointment with the Producer-” Your shy words were abruptly interrupted by the secretary. “Yeah, yeah. Just go find the producer and have your meeting or whatever. I have more important things to do.” You were taken aback by her rude response. You had no clue as to where the producer’s office was, and this seemed like a huge building, it had about 5 floors if you remembered correctly. “B-but where-” You wanted to ask, but got interrupted once again. “Didn’t I tell you I was busy? I don’t have time for your crap.” Her stern, aggressive voice echoed through the room. You shied away and made your way to the elevator. On your way there you walked past the secretary’s desk, just to see that the secretary was ‘busy’ streaming music videos of some K-pop group. “Sheesh.”

Between two metal doors, was a small panel with two buttons, one with an arrow pointing up and one pointing down. You pressed the button with the arrow pointing upwards and patiently waited for the elevator to arrive. Once it came, the door opened with a sound of a bell, and you carefully entered it. You stood in front of another panel of buttons, thinking about which floor to go to. “Well, it seems plausible for the producer to be on the highest floor, right?” With those words, you chose the 5th floor.With the sound of a bell chiming again, the elevator door opened, revealing a cluster of office-like rooms for all the artists of this company to work in. You wandered through the halls, searching for a room that might lead to the producer, -without success. It seemed as if all the offices were still empty, since it was relatively early, except for one.

From down the hall, you heard the sound of a piano, which automatically lured you towards it. The person playing it didn’t have one single mistake, you’ve never heard a piano being played so perfectly. The closer you got to it, you finally recognized which song it was. You stood next to the open door, leaning against the wall, mellowly singing along to the song. This was one of the first songs you ever learned to sing, and you could remember all the lyrics word for word. You shut your eyes and listened as your voice forged a beautiful song together with the peaceful tunes emitting from the piano. This reminded you so much of your childhood when you’d always sing along to your mother playing the piano. It’s incredible how the smallest things can call back such wonderful memories.The piano stopped, and so did you, yet you kept your eyes closed, basking in the peaceful atmosphere that was created. You ripped your eyes open as soon as you heard a man purposely clear his throat to catch your attention. You looked to your right, to the open door, in which a black-haired man was standing with crossed arms. He was glaring at you with his dark eyes. “What do you think you’re doing?” He seemed very irritated. “Oh... uhm.. sorry. I-I’m looking for the producer’s office.” The man sighed and went back into his office without saying a word, actively ignoring anything you ever said, closing the door behind him. You were feeling extremely insecure now since you obviously weren’t making friends with anyone here at the moment now. You glanced at the door, and spotted a name plate directly next to it, saying “Min Yoongi.” You supposed that was the name of the artist you just met.

You swiftly returned to the elevator to check on other floors. You decided to work through every floor from up here until you found it. You walked past dozens of those offices, reading dozens of different names “Kim Namjoon. Suran. Slow Rabbit.” They all sounded really interesting, yet you still didn’t find any sign of the producer's office. You were starting to feel desperate. Why couldn’t anyone simply help you?! You entered the elevator once more, already losing your will to keep on searching. You were about to exit onto the 3rd floor but were taken by surprise. The artist from earlier, Min Yoongi, was standing there with a coffee in his hand. This seemingly was the break room for the artists. Behind the man, you could see some tables, a coffee machine, and all kinds of other break related things. You were questioning yourself how he got here since he was previously on the fifth floor, but just accepted the fact that he most probably took the elevator down here while you were wandering through the fourth floor. “Wrong floor.” He pushed you back into the elevator with his free hand. He pressed the button for the 2nd floor and stood next to you again. He calmly took sips from his coffee cup and kept his eyes on the shiny metal door of the elevator. You couldn’t help but observe him. He had very pale skin and was really skinny. He had a flawless complexion, and hair as dark as the night. You could tell he was a talented pianist by the way his fingers tapped against his coffee cup.

The bell rang again, the doors opening. Yoongi grabbed your wrist firmly with his free hand and pulled you into the hallway. He seemed quite uninterested since you haven’t seen him smile even once so far. You tried jerking your wrist away, but you simply couldn’t free yourself from his tight grip. “HEY!” You yelled at him, not too fond of being treated like this. “Do you want me to help you or not?” He stopped dead in his tracks, letting go of your wrist, ready to leave immediately. “Y-yes...” You were taken aback by him slightly raising his voice at you. He sighed in annoyance, and lead the way towards the director's office, you following him in silence. He stood in front of a wide, glass door. “Here it is.” He opened the door for you, allowing you entrance. Before you could even thank him, a deep voice called you out. “Ms.Y/L/N?”

The Producer was sitting on his black, leather office chair. He signaled you to take place on the seat in front of his desk, which you then did. He was a relatively old man, but you could tell he had experience. He didn’t appear to be a bad person, he had a very friendly smile. He wore fancy clothes, but you didn’t expect anything else from a producer of a big music studio. He had a large window, with a view over Seoul. On one of the walls of his office he had all the trophies his artists have acquired, neatly hanged in minimalistic frames. “Look, Y/N. I viewed your portfolio and did my own personal research on you. You truly have potential. You’re a quite talented musician. I don’t want to make this conversation longer than necessary, so I’ll just get to the point. Yes, you have potential and everything, but...” You gulped. That was the exact word you didn’t want to hear today. You closed your eyes, waiting for his hard judgment to hit you. “I’ll take you in.” You opened your eyes with relief. You couldn’t help but be surprised. Euphoria spread through your whole body. “Under one circumstance...” The pace of your heart sped up again. “You have one week to prove me how good you can work in this surrounding, together with all the other artists. I’ll tell you more about that tomorrow.”

He stood up and walked past his desk over to you. You stood up and shook his hand. You were surprised as to how fast this went. The producer guided you to the door. For some reason, this guy, Min Yoongi, was still in front of the producer’s office with his cup of coffee in his one hand, and his phone in the other. “Oh, Yoongi, how convenient to see you here. Please show our new recruit to her office, it’s E6.” You could tell that Yoongi wasn’t necessarily happy with his boss’s request, but he couldn’t just refuse to do it. “Yes, boss.” Yoongi glared at you. “Thank you, Yoongi. Have a nice day you two.” The producer went back into his office, leaving you and Yoongi to yourselves.

You and Yoongi stood in the elevator once more. You both were silent, you were too shy to simply talk to him, and he was frustrated for some reason. When the two of you exited the elevator, Yoongi led you towards your office. “Here.” Yoongi pointed at your new office. That’s when you realized that it was directly next to his. You stood there for a moment and looked at your office from the outside, and then took a look at Yoongi. You didn’t understand what he had against you. You felt kind of confused. Yoongi looked back at you and scrunched his face. You couldn’t tell if it was out of frustration or anger, but he grabbed your wrist once more and pulled you into this small room across from your offices. It turned out that this was the janitor’s room, but why did he pull you in here? “Hey, could you possibly stop doing that, please?” You yanked your wrist away again. Yoongi closed the door behind you two. “No. Could you stop doing this.” You furrowed your eyebrows. “What do you mean with ‘this’?” Yoongi waved his hands around in the air, not finding words to describe what he meant. “This. Whatever you’re doing here. Look. I had a nice and peaceful time here at this studio until you showed up here.” You looked around the dark room while thinking how to react. “U-Uhm... sorry...?...” Yoongi sighed heavily. “No. Don’t apologize. Sorry. I’m just not in the right state of mind right now.” He opened the door again, and left swiftly, leaving you alone in the small janitor’s room. You remained in there for a moment, trying to process what just happened. You just felt even more confused than you already did before. You just left the room again, leaving your thoughts behind as well, and decided to check out your new office. You walked across the hallway and carefully entered the office, your jaw dropping. You have never seen so many instruments in one room at the same time, -and you were granted access to all of these. You directly tried your skill on every instrument and witnessed how fast time flies while doing something you love and are truly passionate about.

The clock stroke 6 PM. You made up your mind, that it would probably be a good idea to head home now. You went to the door, opened it, and left. Before you even knew it, you felt yourself against his hard chest. You walked straight into him. Why was Yoongi right in front of your office though? Was he looking for you or what? Out of awkwardness you simply remained in that position, not really knowing what to do. His chest was hard but warm. You could hear and feel him breathe heavily. Yoongi grabbed you by your shoulders and gently pushed you back. “U-uh...sorry.” You avoided eye contact with him and simply stared at the floor. He let out a soft giggle, in a miserable attempt to make this situation less awkward. “H-hey... I wanted to ask if you want to go fetch some dinner with me?” You looked up at him just to see the sincerest smile possible on his face. From what it seemed earlier, you didn’t even think he could smile. “Oh. Really? Uh, sure.” He seemed very content with your answer and nodded his head towards the elevator.

You two walked out of the studio building, and onto the busy streets of Seoul. The sun was slowly going down, and all the colorful lights the city Seoul had to offer, were slowly starting to light up. The streets themselves were full with different cars, people were heading from their workplaces back to their homes. It was a beautiful view. You and Yoongi were walking next to each other, and he was leading the way towards the restaurant he had in mind. You were walking full of awkwardness between each other, leaving lots of space between you two, not really talking with one another, only until Yoongi decided to break the ice. “Hey... sorry for being so crappy to you earlier. I didn’t mean to. Sorry.” You were surprised due to Yoongi’s change of mind. You really didn’t see this coming. “O-oh... It’s okay. Don’t worry.” You tried not to face him, and to simply keep your eyes on the street. “What’s your name?” Yoongi sounded interested. “My name is Y/N.” Yoongi smiled. “That’s a beautiful name! My name is-” You interrupted him. “Min Yoongi. I know. I read your name plate.” You laughed at Yoongi’s surprised expression. “W-where do you live?”  Yoongi sounded kind of like insecure, trying to establish a conversation. You scrambled around through the top of your head, trying to remember the name of the street where your shabby motel was located. You ended up butchering its Korean pronunciation, but Yoongi still understood it. “What?! There, in that shabby motel!?” The shabby motel seemingly had a reputation for being a shabby motel. “I live right down the street from there, in an apartment. If you want to, you could stay the night there. I mean, only if you feel comfortable with that.” To be very honest, anything would have been better than your motel room. I mean, why not? What could go wrong? Okay, actually a lot, but you’d never know if you don’t try. “Sure. If you’re okay with that too, of course.” Yoongi smiled back reassuringly. “Of course I am. I heard you sing earlier. Talented musicians have to help talented musicians out.~“ His slightly narcissistic choice of words made you giggle.

Yoongi and you stood in front of his apartment door, him holding two bags of fried chicken in his hands. He told you that it’s the right occasion for a grand meal since you got accepted into the studio. He twisted the key in the lock and held the door open for you, so you could enter. His apartment was very minimalistic. He had a very small kitchen, a small living room with only one big sofa, a bedroom and a bathroom. He didn’t have any decoration in it. You assumed that he spent most of his time in the studio anyway. Yoongi placed the bags of food onto the coffee table and sat down on the sofa. You sat down next to him, and Yoongi handed you a serving of chicken. You felt really shy around him and didn’t eat it. Yoongi, who was delightfully munching into his chicken, looked at you full of concern. “You should eat.” You then slowly started eating some of the chicken, even though you didn’t feel too hungry after this exciting day. “Do you need me to force-feed you?” Yoongi looked at you with a judging, sassy face. You giggled and sped up your pace.

After you two ate, Yoongi walked back into his kitchen and brought away the trash. “Can I get you something to drink?” His voice was mellowed down because of the walls. “Uhm, what do you have to offer?” You could hear him open the fridge. “Water, Orange Juice, Coke, Beer, and Soju.” Soju sounded good, after this long day. Especially if you wanted to stop being a ball of shyness and awkwardness around Yoongi, you’d need it. “Soju sounds good.” You could only imagine his facial expression over your reply. He came back with a bottle of Soju and two shot glasses. After a few shots, you decided you had enough. “Okay, I think that’s enough for today.” You giggled a little bit. “Yeah...” Yoongi also seemed quite cheery. You stood up and aimlessly looked around Yoongi’s apartment. “You can have the bed, I can sleep here on the couch.” Yoongi led you to his bedroom. “No.” Yoongi looked at you full of confusion. “I think there’s enough space in the bed for both of us.” Yoongi was really surprised. Okay Y/N, what in the actual hell did you just kick off.

[zkriiwewe]

Good Puppy

Hey I’m gunna make another long post. When I was a baby my dad was obsessed with the idea that every kid had to grow up with a dog. So my dad went flat out /huntin/ for the best fucking dog he could find. For him the best dog in the whole fucking world was a Welsh Springer Spaniel. Not just /any/ Welsh Springer Spaniel. A Prestigious breed of the breed of Welsh, Springer, Spaniels. This puppy’s Grandmother was a fucking UNIT. I mean this is well, well before THICC and UNIT and BOI were being used but this Grandmother dog was the BIGGEST, THICKEST, STOKEST Welsh Springer Spaniel on the face of this bloody rock we hurtle on. I mean this Grandmother THICC UNIT of a DOG won awards for having the THICC’EST bones, BRoadest Chest, Biggest Muscle Heart, THICCEST BIRD DOG ON THE FLOATY ROCK OF WETNESS. My Folks had to name their new puppy something that had a T in it. Her siblings had names like ‘Tinker Bell’ and ‘Christmas Tree’, stuff my parents didn’t like. My dad was /dead set/ on naming the puppy, Riska. Like, No other name was allowed. But her name had to have a fucking T in it. Riska had /no Ts/, and our last name didn’t count as the T. So my parents in the car, driving back home trying to think of what kind of T name to add to Riska so they could take the puppy back home. And on the radio played, Ruby Tuesday. As my parents were struggling to come up with a name, on came a song with the lyrics “Ruby Tuesday, who could hang a name on you-” That’s the story of how Riska Tuesday *Deleted last name* came to be part of our family.

I have a lot of good memories with my puppy big sister. Granted I was /technically/ older by 6 months, but she was the big sister. Hands. Down. Riska Tuesday was my big sister.

I have foggy memories of being really little, like I’m not good yet at the whole, walking on two legs thing, little. And I can remember my Mom laughing with tears in her eyes, holding a bowl of popcorn. Me and Riska Puppy on the ground before her, waiting for Mom to toss another popcorn kernal at us. And Riska, I mean Riska /won/. She always fucking won when it came to food the selfish jerk! I have a few other food related stories/memories with Riska and food. I can remember the indignant Rage I felt every time Riska beat me to food, her chops flopping around like her fluffy fally ears with the tight brown curls and her freckled muzzle smiling at me as I WHIIIINED BECAUSE I JUST WANT ONE! So Riska took her role as being a big sister most serious. Like Most Insanely Serious. I guess she could sense I needed the protection. I can remember holding my Mom’s hand, Riska trotting beside us. Walking in the soft rain down the road, walking a beautiful grey and green street in the rain. I can remember at the T of this road, there was an ascending half wall. I always wanted to climb it but in the bushes on the upper half, there was a /gnome/. He was out to get me and I knew it and he scared me but Riska would walk into me and keep herself between me and the /gnome/ and her warm wet fur would be tangled in my fingers as I waddled along in my wellies at her side.

I remember the park. Coming up on the left. Heavy Silver clouds sprinkling joy and personal kisses on us as I start running for the park, always I felt more comfortable running. I remember Riska with her loose flapping leash, Mom knew better than to stop her by this point, running with me. Riska never let me get far from her side.

I can remember the cold slick of the slide rails. I wanted to slide. I remember the UUUMPH as Riska shoved me. I mean, She full on BODY CHECKED me off the ladder. I remember landing hard and SCOWLING AT RISKA PUPPY. To add insult to injury she didn’t even look at me. NOooooooo. She was climbing the fucking ladder after bowling me off. Because Riska Tuesday always had to vet anything I wanted to do herself. She had to go first to make sure it was safe. She had to sniff and do the activity before she would let her baby brother do it.

I can remember being on the ladder behind her, scowling at her stupid wriggly butt with her nub tail that was fustriatedly bouncing, as she tried to climb the stupid ladder that wasn’t made for her wrists.

I couldn’t hear. I remember feeling the vibrations through my hands, as Riska’s nails clattered and scrabbled on the plastic of the slide. I remember watching as her white and reddish brown fur wooshed as she went down. How she FWOMPED more than landed at the end, how she stepped on her leash before righting herself and running around the ladder, sniffing. I remember every time I tried to go down, I could feel her bark shake the plastic I was sitting on. I was /waiting/ for her to say it was okay. I didn’t wait. I slid down, and I didn’t get to land nooooo. Riska was instantly upon me. Her hot breath and wet nose as she sniffled and nuzzled and pawed at the whole of me. I wasn’t strong enough yet to push her off though I fucking TRIED. RUDE PUPPY. I JUST WANTED TO SLIDE! Eventually Riska sat to the side and looked around in the sprinkling rain. Letting me enjoy SLIDE TIME. BUt let me tell you. When I started baby waddling to the merry go round-OOOOOH BOY. Riska made sure it was safe before letting me go. And the /swings/- My Mom says Riska always did that. She always checked everything to make sure it was safe for me to do.

My dad was obsessed with training Riska to no ends. He adamantly refuses to this day to learn any sign language, never mind he’s more deaf than I am on my average days. But for my Mom he taught Riska Puppy sign versions of all of her commands. Riska was trained to how loud she could bark even. How frequent, on command, volume and duration. You could tell Riska to SPEAK to the dot with sign. He taught Riska that thoroughly so Mom and I could scare strangers off our home and lawn with Riska howling and barking like an arch demon. With out ever givin away that a human was in the house with the DEMON HOUND.

And it’s only now, so many years later, that I realize Riska’s Sign Name was simply the word for Dog. A snap of fingers and a pat of the thigh. Riska knew that was her sign name, and though I can’t make an audible snap. Riska knew when I tried and slapped my thigh, I was asking for her attention.

The two cats names were the first letter of their name tapped over the heart, then the sign for cat. Riska Puppy was simply DOG in sign.

I was six. The year one of the best things in the whole world happened, and the reason why I had to enunciate why it’s important to remember Riska is the granddaughter of the THICCEST bird dog of that current record ((I personally think Riska beat her Grammy’s stronk thiccness of being a fucking UNIT))

My Cousin, he was two years older than me, had been dumped on my Mom’s doorstep for 4 months, without his or my Mom’s consent by his mother. This woman didn’t even check in, in that whole time. Mother of the year (Don’t worry her story gets worse and my cousin eventually gets his life together after recovering from that woman’s bullshit)

So this one summer. One Amazing Summer. I have Riska’s red leash on my wrist. She’s as always barely letting me out of her sight. Cousin and a Neighbor boy are hanging out, walking around and being bored kids before the internet or video games became a THING Thing. On our walk there was this, foot ball or two sized grass field, before it led to a kind of clumping of trees. I can remember the image very well because of what comes next.

That sun burnt waist high grass.

See. There was one point when Riska was on walkies with Dad, that she managed to escape his attention. And she caught a fucking /vole/. And Ate it. Gloriously Hunted, Caught, and ATE a vole, Succeeding in her genetic building and creation, Riska was ECSTATIC.

He was horrified and SO FUCKING PROUD, Mom was scared she’d get sick and took her to the vet to look for worms or diseases.

But Riska, that was her BEST FUCKING EXPERIENCE YET. And I knew she was always lookin for another chance. Cos I also was looking for a fucking chance to hunt something too cos SHE WAS OVER THE MOON FOR A WEEK STRAIGHT AFTER THAT VOLE. NOT EVEN THE VET COULD TAKE DOWN HER HIGH. I WANTED THAT SAME HAPPINESS.

Out in that sun burnt, massive grass field. I saw it with her. A movement, in the grass. A small critter. More than a good throw’s away. But a critter, small enough to be a vole. I remember being suddenly much more aware of her thick red leash on my wrist, that I curled my fingers around that thick cloth. Her floppy curly ears lifted off her skull, her whole body turned into an arrow. My other hand was reaching up to give Riska a command of ‘Heel’ to remind her-

I swear, I swear on my Divines and my oaths. I swear. Riska Puppy Yeeted before the Yeet was Yeeted into LIFE. Riska Puppy YEETED herself after that small critter.

My feet detached from gravity and I was pulled first, form freely into the air, before the leash attached to my right wrist, DRAGGED ME BACK TO THE EARTH. Face First. OH MY DIVINES Riska Puppy is a Welsh Springer Spaniel, So she’s a medium sized bird dog. She was what, 55 pounds? Probably heavier since Riska Puppy was a fucking UNIT like her famous Grammy. I was not a small child. I was 90th growth percentile, meaning I was a fucking UNIT of a person myself. Not only that, but my Mom never let me leave the table hungry, so I often had 2nds and 3rds. The husky boy I was easily out weighed Riska by 10 pounds. So a fucking, Medium sized bird dog is dragging around a 6 year old who works out and eats 3 meals with extra helpings and snacks in between. A BIRD DOG RIPPED A 60′ISH POUND CHILD OFF THE GROUND AND IS NOT SLOWED DOWN AS SHE CHASES SOME FUCKING VOLE OR RABBIT OR SOMETHING WITH MURDEROUS INTENT!

You might think at first this won’t last long.

YOU’D BE WRONG

Riska Tuesday *Deleted last name* is TRAIN CAR PLUNGING THROUGH WAIST HIGH GRASS AFTER THIS CRITTER. All I can remember of this moment is Stunned SHOCK as my brain tries to process the SUDDENNESS of my arm almost being dislocated out of my fucking shoulder, that my DETERMINED genes kept my hand locked up around her leash, and that I AM BEING DRAGGED THROUGH GRASS AND DIRT ALIKE AND NOTHING IS SLOWING DOWN FUCKING WHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAT Now I don’t know the top speed of an AVERAGE Welsh Springer Spaniel, but I will tell you I would bet real world money that Riska Tuesday, with a husky 6 year old boy being dragged behind her by her NECK, beat that speed that summer day while she was MURDER INTENT ON DEVOURING THE SMALL CRITTER. I do know that both my Cousin and the other boy were YELLING and chasing after us. My Cousin knew my Mom would want me back and he had fallen in love with Riska’s Joyful attitude. So the both of them are trying to catch up. I’m sure someone told me to let go, nevermind I couldn’t hear it over GRASS AND WIND. But I know someone had to have yelled that at the stupid little boy who was dangling from RISKA TUESDAY’S MURDER CHASE RUN OF YEETITUDE. Eventually I could see more than just GRASS and my shoulder, I could see Riska’s RUNNING PAWS and the DIRT she was kicking up into my face. It was about then that I got over the shock and I started LAUGHING. My WHOOPING MANIACAL JOY VILLAIN LAUGHTER. Managing somewhere to loop my left hand up to grab the leash, hang on with both hands as she DRAGGED ME ON THIS WILD CHASE I dont’ remember which one, or if I knew at the time, but one of the other boys managed to JUMP on top of me and the leash, hands flailing to grab hold and HANG ON AS RISKA CONTINUED HER DEATH INTENT SPRINT OF DOOM Guess what Guess fucking what SHE DIDN”T SLOW DOWN NO SHE DIDN’T! SHE DIDN”T SLOW THE FUCK DOWN AFTER HER LEASH DOUBLED IN WEIGHT AS SHE DRAGGED TWO BOYS! OH MY DIVINES I remember hearing now, over the GRASS AND WIND, the sound of Riska’s HEAVING BREATHING. ONLY SHE WASN”T PANTING YET. SHE WASN”T TIRED AND SHE MUST HAVE COVERED THE FOOTBALL FIELD AT LEAST TWICE BEFORE THE BOY JOINED IN. I suddenly was aware of more SCREAMING, of the other boy and my Cousin,

It wasn’t long before as I’m still laughing my dragged ass off, till the THIRD BOY managed to leap onto our passel at the end of RISKA THE THICC TUESDAY”S LEASH. SHE DIDN’T SLOW DOWN. I KID YOU THE FUCK NOT RISKA THE I AM TOO STRONG FOR THIS MORTAL FORM TUESDAY KEPT DEAD SPRINT RUNNING AFTER WHATEVER THE FUCK THAT SURE AS DAYLIGHT WAS TERRIFIED FOR IT’S FUCKING LIFE CRITTER. Riska has, at least what, a hundred and fifty pounds of screaming and laughing boys, dangling off her neck, and she’s FULL FORCE CHARGING, THROUGH WAIST HIGH GRASS, And she’s this fucking, UNIT OF A BIRD DOG. SHE’S A FUCKING BIRD DOG CHARGING THROUGH GRASS DRAGGING THREE ENTIRE BOYS AND SHE DOESN’T STOOOOOP

One of the boys lost his grip and fell off, the other yelled in my ear “LET GO” before he NOPED from the experience of being dragged by a FUCKING TRAIN CAR HOUSED INSIDE A WHITE AND RED BIRD DOG.

I DIDN’T. I DIDN’T LET GO I AM AND HAVE ALWAYS BEEN TOO DETERMINED FOR MY OWN GOOD I WAS NOT GUNNA LET RISKA THE THICC TUESDAY WIN. I think it was my Cousin who jumped back on when he managed to catch Riska as she looped around AGAIN ON THIS MASSIVE FUCKING FIELD. I know one of them ran off to get adults to stop this because, APPARENTLY RISKA DIDN’T STOP RUNNING FOR A WHOLE FIVE FUCKING MINUTES. A FUCKING BIRD DOG FULL SPEED RUNNING WITH DEAD WEIGHT ON HER NECK RUNNING FOR FIVE FUCKING MINUTES. WHAT THE FUCK RISKA TUESDAY! WHAT THE FLYING FUCK. She never fucking stopped on her own. My Mom came into the picture for how to fucking STOP Riska THE THICC Tuesday. Her and a neighbor adult managed to half tackle Riska, fall on her leash, when she was nearish to them. My Mother tells me of this, when she held Riska in her arms. How Riska’s entire body was BEATING with her HEART. HER HEART WAS ALMOST AUDIBLE FROM HOW LOUD IT WAS THU-THUDDING HER BLOOD TO EVERY INCH OF HER DOGGY FORM. LIKE A FUCKING JACK HAMMER HAMMERING HER HEART INTO OBLIVION AS HER CHEST PULSE WITH EACH FUCKING JACK HAMMERY BEAT. I remember when everything finally stopped. How I was stupidly dizzy from laughing too much and the sudden stop of all the movement and how I couldn’t see quite right since my head though everything should still be ZOOMING but it wasn’t and how I managed to sit up, giggle sick and still giggling. How my cloths that had been respectable T shirt and jeans. Were now. They were just, absolutely, GREEN or BROWN. No other colour remained, how my arms where they weren’t GREEN or BROWN were PINK/BLOODY. How Every bit of my was BUZZING from thousands of cuts and bumps and bashes and I was giggling. I remember looking up, the leash no longer on my wrist. Laying on the flattened grass from all the adults moving and Riska’s FORCABLE DRAGGED SLEIGH RIDE. Up and seeing my Mom while my eyes couldn’t decide if the world was ZOOMING or not. Riska QUIVERING like her very MOLECULES were going to friggen EXPLODE, Her nubby tail was wagging too much to even WAG Anymore her entire body was trying to vibrate/wag out of the quantum state. I remember looking at My Mom who was the absolute picture of abject horror. Staring at her now GREEN, BROWN, and BLOODY son. And I JUST SMILE BIGGER and start Laughing so much that I’m trying to not puke from how AWESOME EVERYTHING IS. Riska Riska Riska wanted to keep going. Riska kept trying to go back to running, Riska kept going to me and trying to get me to hold the leash so she could DRAG ME again. I tried to go with her- MY MOTHER SCREAMED NO! And then didn’t let us GO. EITHER OF US. I remember my Mom’s fisted hand in my shirt, right at the shoulder, her thumb against my ear. I remember my Mom’s immaculate finger nails curled around Riska’s collar. How she had to kneel to hold onto both of us well and keep RISKA FROM LUNGING BACK TO HER DEAD FORCE RUN Mom told me how she was so scared Riska was gunna run for so hard and long her fucking heart would just collapse and she’d drop dead. Now that I’m grown, I FUCKING AGREE. RISKA THE THICC TUESDAY WOULD ABSOLUTELY RUN HERSELF TO DEATH WHILE DRAGGING CHILDREN ALONG BY HER THROAT. The worst part-

The BEST Part Is Riska the THICC Tuesday became famous around our base cos all the kids wanted to go for a Riska Ride. People started knocking on the door asking if Riska could come out and play. She became a mini celebrity and I FUCKING WISH. The Internet as we know it and Video Phones has been a thing for Riska the THICCEST Tuesday’s FAMOUS DRAG to happen. I’m sure she would have been a fucking meme immediately for dragging THREE CHILDREN that she was all smaller than.

And my Mother didn’t let Riska drag anyone without supervision. Because Mom had to stop her. Riska barely listened to Mom’s orders to STOP and HEEL. Nevermind  MINE. Nah, Riska and I both knew who was higher in our pecking order. She was. I was the baby boy. Riska was the boss of me.

But it became a thing for the longest time, especially in Autumn with all the leaves, to go on a Riska Ride. Riska with her leash and a whole passel of children BETTING THEY CAN HANG ON THE LONGEST ((nevermind I already won that title, being the only one to ever hang on for the whole of a Riska Ride))

Riska didn’t catch that critter that wonderful day. But she caught an entire base’s worth of children’s love and glee.

So Riska and I, a good idea of our sibling ship. Was absolutely the “Anything you can do, I can do better” song. Riska learnt to sit properly in a car seat from watching me. Riska taught herself this. My Mother noticed this, and just. My Mom just buckled Riska in with the seat belt. I have a lot of memories sitting in the back of my Mom’s car, looking over at Riska who’s sitting calmly in her seat. She’d look over at me. And we’d have a silent puppy/kiddy conversation as we’d hold.

We apparently learnt how to get out of toddler play pens doing that. When we figured out if we both jumped at the same side, together, after trying to prove who could make the pen shake the most, to knock it over and esssKAP’E! My Mom tells me this happened often. Where she’d sigh. Seeing me sitting where I absolutely should not be. Eating newspaper. Riska taught me that. And My mom with me under one arm, would walk around the house, calling for Riska Tuesday. Often to find Riska eating my Mother’s own underware. it was always My Mom’s underware, never my Dad’s and only once mine. BTW, newspaper tasty, underware not so much.

Oh and Beggin Strips. Dogs are liars that stuff tastes worse than it smells.

This one time when the whole family was going out to do a thing. Dad’s car was STUFFED to the brim to the point there was barely any room for Riska and I. Riska pouting in my foot space, me cross legged curled up on what was left of my seat as I was pressed against the door. But we stopped at Arbies. GLORIOIUS DAYS. JUNKY FAST FOOD COS MOMMA NEVER LETS US EAT JUNK FOOD. I Ask for the MEATIEST FOOD THERE IS. When I’m handed my bag I go straight for the MEATY GOODNESS SANDWICH. Before I can take my first bite, I can see over it. See Riska at my feet. Very politely laying there, her nose working, as she smells all the NEW MEATY GOODNESS. I open up my sandwich because I’m a good little brother, and I rip off a decent mouthful to hand to her. Oh. Oh she laps it up and she’s PLEASED. WONDERFUL MEATY GOODNESS I close up the sandwich for my bite, fully intent to share like that. Bite for me, bite for you. Riska and I often do that. I get distracted by something out the window, I can’t remember anymore. But I lift my sandwich up to take my first bite into meaty goodness. Fluffy american bread, soaked in meaty goodness grease so it’s amazing-Then my teeth click together. I blink. Staring out the window. I rip the bite off and look down-Bread? Bread and bread-Where’s all the meaty goodness? I realize I can hear Riska’s SHLOPPING LOP LOP noises of EATING QUICKLY BEFORE SHE’S CAUGHT I look down and there’s all the MEATY GOODNESS. IN HER MOUTH

HOT INDIGNANT RAGE! I am FILLED WITH HURT INDIGNANT UPSETNESS AS A TINY BOY CAN FEEL My face screwed up as I was UPSET watching Riska The Puppy Tuesday eat ALL THE MEAT And I spit out One Word with as much INDIGNANT UPSETNESS as I can “///DOOOG///” My folks never let go of how hilarious my delivery was. Sure I had used ‘Dog’ before to empathize I was upset with Riska’s latest shenanigans, calling her Puppy at all other times. 

But I’m told my Deaf Lispy delivery and my FACE had been PERFECT

You can bet a solid dollar that for the next hour I was sullen and bitter at Riska. No matter how much puppy eyes she gave me and wriggles for ‘hey play with me’ during the car ride. Of course I finished my bread, it was good. But I wanted my half of the meaty goodness! We RARELY got to eat JUNK FOOD! THAT WAS HER AND MY’S FIRST ARBY SANDWICH.

The next rare moment we got Arbies. I took my bite first, while fending Riska off because HOW DARE YOU EAT BEFORE ME PUPPY I’M HIGHER THAN YOU IN OUR PACK. I am proud to say I won that fight. Our seat belts worked in my favour. However, I was still a good baby brother and I shared the meaty goodness with her...though I didn’t let it out of my sight the whole time, and kept a leg up to push her back as she tried to sneak in to steal all the meat again.

When I was Nine, my Mother finally figured out why a super healthy boy was constantly sniffling and rubbing his eyes and suffering too many ear infections to be in any world normal.

I was allergic to dogs.

I was, more than crushed. Riska was my big sister. I didn’t want to part with her, I didn’t care at that point- I was already half deaf and I hadn’t gotten any worse in years!

My Dad was also crushed. I dunno if he feels like my deaf’ness is his fault. Mom never wanted a dog, she’s solidly a cat person. She was against it from the beginning so gettin a dog was all his decision. I do know that we hunted for months to find a good family that Riska would love to be among. We found this older couple, they had grand children who were toddlers. Riska loves being around toddlers and little children. They had a wonderful house that was theirs outright, and it had a massive yard for Germany. There was a part of grass and garden lovingly cultivated, that ran the length of the house. I dunno how you US americans can understand how amazing that much yard is. But Riska and I both knew it. My Parents had an interview with the couple, saw the house and yard, met with their children and grand babies. Then let Riska stay with them for a week on a test trial. I got to come after the week was up. In our home while Mom never withheld food, she never let us gorge on junk food. We ate wholesome homemade meals.

Riska’s new family, well the Oma adored loving on Riska, and wanted to be sure Riska understood her commands fluently in English, Sign, and German. Within the week and all the treats, Riska easily put on 8 pounds and knew as much German as I did. I can’t remember the words in German, but I remember the Oma saying to Riska “Roll over and show me your fat belly!” with the sign for ‘roll on back’ And Riska Gleefully frowmped onto her back, paws in the air, biggest doggy smile, showing off her FAT BELLY. Riska and I went into the yard and we ran the length of the yard, Riska being nice and letting me win a few of the races. Others proving no matter how much belly she got she’d ALWAYS BE THE POWER HOUSE OF THICC’EST UNIT EVER. I remember Riska was happy in her new family. I remember Riska was gleeful to have me back. I can remember how my nose clogged back to how it had been since I could remember within minutes of being with her. How I started rubbing my eyes within ten minutes of playing with her. My Dad didn’t say much, nor did he look at me. Mom had sympathy for my heartbreak. I cried when I was hugging Riska for the last time. Broken voice and twitches of hands telling her I’ll always remember her and love her. Riska didn’t understand most of it, she thought since her boy was back in her new house, we would obviously being staying her. It’s how it had worked in all the previous times we had moved and one of us went ahead of the other in the move. Just, this house had WAY MORE JUNK FOOD and more kids to protect and love.

I remember the nice Oma and Opa, Riska’s new family, holding her as I walked out of the house. Riska whined and gave that one bark that was her command of BOY COME BACK! MY BOY COME BACK! I tried to ask for this to not happen. Mom said this was for the best, for the both of us. It hurt for a long time. I drew pictures of Riska, scared I’d forget about her. I kept her adoption papers. I think my folks still have clippings about her famous Grammy. But when I was a teenager, it felt pretty good to think of Riska. With her old German couple family and all the grandbabies to love and bowl over when they dare touch a slide she didn’t scout out first. To think of her in summer, out in the country side. Dragging all those grandbabies through the fields and hills. So well fed on good food AND Junk food. In the winter be attached to a harness and sled, and she’d STILL run like a fucking maniac while all those kids screamed in FEAR and GLEE and some poor adult was trying to chase her down before someone got hurt. It was a few months ago, that I started to get okay with the idea that. That Riska’s not still out there. Her breed don’t live past 15 years on average. And. Well I’m beyond that. I haven’t. I haven’t let myself mourn her death yet. Writing this all up and sharin it with, whoever will deal with all this text. Is my first, active choice step towards..... Accepting she’s. She’s not in that nice house with the warm carpets and the grassy yard and tussling with great grand babies now. She’s not jaunting through the evening rain to walk her passel of children to love and protect back home. She’s, Hah, Not going on MAD DASH ENDLESS RUN after some hapless vole or rabbit.

Riska Tuesday is a very good dog. She was very good to me even when she wasn’t. It feels wrong to phrase it as her fault that I’m partially deaf. It feels just as wrong to phrase it as my Dad’s fault that I’m partially deaf.

She loved me very dearly and I love her. I love her very dearly.

Riska Tuesday was a very good puppy, even when she was bein a dog.