#that's what hits me terribly | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

youredreamingofroo · 2 months

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Goodbye? I don't think so. I hope not. A very, very long rant about storage (🙄), simblr and whatever the fuck else I go on about for a few paragraphs. Skip to the end at the gold text for a more.... "definitive" answer. Especially if you want to skip the nitty gritty and sappy wappy.

i dont know what to do anymore, I freed up 18 GBs of space it all managed to go down the drain in literally an hour, Im moving my blender things to my external HDD, because that alone is 20 GBs (because of Scene sizes), I just hate to free up the space because I dont want it to go right back down. This all sucks cuz I really really enjoy being on Simblr, but sims 4 just continues to be a nuisance, whether its actual problems or its storage problems, it just always finds a way, every year, to get me to suddenly decide that im retiring until my next bout of Sims 4 hyperfixation. I love all of you guys and I love seeing how you all enjoy my work, and what I do, and I love seeing your stuff, you all make such amazing creations, granted if I stopped playing TS4, it wouldnt mean I have to stop interacting on simblr, it just wouldnt be the same. A pattern I notice anytime I start a social media platform, is that something always finds its way into completely demotivating me from posting, whether it's just literal lack of motivation, depression, realizing a project is too vast for me, storage problems, it's always something and it's always when I finally get comfortable or happy on a platform, especially after making friends, not that im saying my friends are one of the reasons I leave, thats far from it. I REALLY dont wanna take a break from Sims 4, I really really genuinely wanna start posting my story (W.A.S), but I'm not like a Sims 4 youtuber, I can't remain dedicated to one game, I play other games, I wanna play the Witcher games (or at least try to play them, I kinda suck rn), I wanna finish Detroit become human, I want to 100% Beyond two souls (and DBH), I wanna finish Disco elysium (started and never fucking finished 💀), I want to play Baldur's Gate 3, I mean, I purchased it at full price and I can't even play the game??... 😮‍💨 You get the point. At this point I wouldn't consider this a "goodbye," note, not... necessarily? I just get so frustrated having no storage, not to mention the fact that I need storage to literally do the stuff I do, like make edits, make poses, make renders, so the fact that I can't even do that, is just like... what's the point of even having Sims 4 anymore at that point? But I don't wanna leave simblr, I don't want to stop creating. It's funny, as I write this, I continue to give myself more and more of a reason to leave, the only real thing that's stopping me is just the fact that there's so many nice people here, I know that if I stopped playing the sims 4, I'd probably move onto another game (BG3................,,,,,..) and leave tumblr, or, at least leave Simblr. Which as I (think) said before, that's sad, I'd be sad, I'd miss people like Lori (groovetrys) and Lauren (miralure), June (circusjuney), Jade (gamyrmaiden), Anna (holocene-sims), butter (buttertrait), Fae (acuar-io), Verco (vercosims) and god, so many others, and sorry to break the atmosphere suddenly, but as I'm writing this, I'm listening to "In another life," from Everything everywhere all at once and it's making this very emotional for me, so if it gets sappy I apologize.

And I guess to be... insanely honest, as much as I want to release my story (trust me, I REALLY want to), I'm slowly beginning to realize more and more how not-easy it's gonna be to make scenes, writing it is fine for me, its just setting up the scenes feels like i'm forbidden to a life of staring at a bunch of words (pose names) trying to figure out what's what, where is what, what to do, where is where, who is who, who is what, how is what, how and why, need I continue. Storytelling is so insanely important to me, I believe that despite how little I read and despite how terrible of a student I have been, and despite how poor my literature skills are, that storytelling is still so important, fuck it, poetry has been such an inspiration for me, but I don't fucking know how to write poetry?? I can barely understand poetry at times, but it's still all so beautiful to me, the concept and the fact that people use metaphors so meticulously to create an allegory for something beautiful, or traumatic or sad, like in not so berry, the concept of an ocean being alexanders "love," and cataleya drowning in it, and her realizing she's drowning in his "love," but when she wants to leave, she really wonders if she actually wants to leave, to conceptualize and create this awful relationship in the means of an ocean is so... well, not beautiful in a reality sense, but in a technical/literary sense, it's beautiful, it's expression, and THATS what im passionate about. Remember what I said about getting sappy? Yea, sorry about that. After a while, I wonder what good repeating myself does, I've said about 5 or 6 times that I don't want to leave, yet here I am, with the mouse over the uninstall button like an idiot about to press the big "DON'T TOUCH" button, perhaps it's the idea that after repeating myself over and over again, that maybe I'll make up my mind, do I do a coin flip? I never listen anyways, I always continue to flip until it lands on what I like. So... why am I still writing? To be honest, I should've stopped by now, but you can only stop a dam so much before it all comes out. I do this with my friends, when I'm sad, I pour my heart out until it's a repetitive and overcooked version of "I'm sad." I write paragraph after paragraph and I literally could've just said "I don't have storage. Considering leaving simblr," and the same message would've gotten across, and I apologize, if you're still reading this, for making such a lengthy post, but I couldn't quite help spilling a bit of water everywhere, although I guess now my little puddle of water has become a flood. I use metaphors a lot, I apologize... again.

So what does all this bullshit that I typed out mean?

I don't know. I wonder the same myself, I'm fighting a battle more fierce than the one I had with my period last week, "Do I uninstall Sims 4 so I can have more freedom, and enjoy more content? or do I continue this rigorous battle of needing storage for the sake of a tumblr page, my enjoyment for writing and other shit I do in the sims 4?" I cannot say I will take a hiatus, because I will procrastinate, and I will forget completely about posting, and tumblr in general. I do still, at the very least, want to release my Official Teaser for my story, whether it be my last post or not, and at the very least, I want to introduce you to the characters, whether it be my last post(s) or not. Not to mention the fact that I want to continue sharing about Roo even if it's not about sims 4 anymore, I mean hell, I haven't even finished off the Leo and Roo part of his timeline.

For an INCREDIBLY watered down answer on whether or not this is goodbye, I say to you, not in this moment, not definitive enough for you yeah? Well, that's the thing, I don't have a definitive answer, you could fucking tear apart this entire college essay mat-pat style, and still not have a definitive fucking answer, and that's because I don't, sorry to all the people who don't want to listen to me rant or who want a clear answer, but I just don't have one. I've been known to make impulsive and on the whim (when I'm really emotional) decisions, and this is a situation where I don't want to do that, because I care about what I have here with ya'll.

If this ends up being one of my last posts, I bid you all adieu, I love you all, and I thank you so so so much for the laughs, and for the mutual connection we may or may not have had, I do not know if I'll make any actual posts for the next few days as I consider my decision, I will float around of course and continue reblogging this and that, and commenting and liking, etc etc. There's also a chance I may wake up tomorrow and look at this and think I was just being overly emotional about this stuff, and that now I look like an idiot, which is the case 9 times out of 10.

#If you read all of this. Thank you #if you read a little bit of this. Thank you #if you read only the gold text. Thank you #terrible time to mention this but I can't believe I'm leaving right before I hit 100 followers. A milestone I've been waiting to hit.#what a... sort of cruel joke my mind and laptop has done to me yeah?#I should've spent this time playing the Witcher but now it's 1 AM and I'm tired #Once again. Thank you.#yapping

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bookshelf-in-progress · 2 years

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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."

#the bookshelf progresses #fairy tale retellings #beauty and the beast #i finally figured out how to retell this fairy tale in a way that works for me #namely: skip over all the mystery-that's-not-really-a-mystery and just give us the ending #and make it a comedy #all my favorite beauties are the outspoken and loud ones #and beatrice came barging in an demanded that i tell this story #(and she refused to be named anything else so i'm sorry about the two very similar names)#i attempted to address some of my usual annoyances with beauty and the beast takes and with romances #not sure if i succeeded #especially since they got a bit too sappy at the end #but i couldn't figure out how to wrap this up and just kind of kept spinning off banter until i hit something semi-workable #so anyway i hope you like it #i found it fun anyway #oh by the way if you imagine thylacine beast you won't be terribly far off #tiger-dog kind of gives off that vibe but they don't know what a thylacine is #of course it's twisted with the monkey mixed in there #and there are prob some more tigery features that go beyond the coloring #i don't want to define it in too much detail i'm just sick of all beasts being some mix of bear-wolf-lion #and hope this comes off as semi-different

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