#Going around my ask box

[irunaki]

bby owlthena tickles give me lifeblood she looks so happy she is so cute im goign to explodfhjsbhfbbjnb

Have this then :3

[gummi-ships]

Kingdom Hearts 3 - The Caribbean

[stop-breaking-my-heart-telltale]

What can I say? They're my favorite.

[alongtidesoflight]

i swear my stepdad is so illogical AND stubborn it hurts

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

A Blorbo You Treat Nicely, Right?

[hitwiththetmnt]

Go-karting? Don’t mind if I do @irequirealobotomy

@tmnt-fandom-family-reunion

Cabin #7 (7Wonders of the Turtleverse)

[spookythesillyfella]

The sisters say hi! I mean.. Lana does, LaLa just wants to eat you guys-

"Hm ? Did you say something ?"

"Huh !? Oh ... Nah ...."

"Oh . it must've been my imagination there . haha !! ........ Are you okay . though ? You look like you're sweating bullets ...."

"YEAH !! Yeah .... Of course I am ..... haahh ...."

[spotaus]

New Age au (A Day at Dream's)

Hey y'all! This is another pre-story Drabble, this time from Dream's perspective! Exiled prince doing his best to interact with the populous and do his daily tasks! This was mainly just an attempt from me to get back into writing for this au, and ofc, fleshing out Dream! Hope y'all enjoy!

(Who do I normally tag? @ancha-aus @papiliovolens @mutzelputz I believe? Welcome back y'all!)

The morning was warm, something that Dream had to be grateful for. Ever since the incident, it seemed like he was faced with far more cloudy days than sunny ones, even in the midst of summer. The winters froze so harshly that trees would splinter at the branch, limbs cracking like cannon shots in the nights. The spring was full of awful thunder storms that spewed lightning and wrought floods, and the fall was constantly welcoming wind storms that threw around the rotten remains of plants all about. Even Blue had to admit that the weather was much worse here than his home kingdom, after the first year they’d spent at the very border of Orchard. 

Summers were hit and miss, either clinging to the traces of those awful storms, making everything sticky and humid, or beginning the dry season. This morning, as far as Dream could tell, might’ve finally been the start of a dry season. The garden didn’t seem to be swamped, it didn’t seem to be wilted either. The plants always seemed to know when rain was coming, because their leaves would downturn. After so many years, Dream made it a habit to glance out one of the back windows to make sure he knew just what to expect from the day.

Buttoning his over-cloak, he found himself lingering at the window for a second. He knew he’d have to talk with a returning scouting party later in the afternoon, their most survived thus far, but beyond that there wasn’t much else. Go about the camp, see if he could boost morale, maybe get in a training session with Blue…

Speaking of Blue, his loyal knight was seemingly nowhere to be found. 

Dream took a moment, crossing the quaint living room of their cabin to squint at the sky. Hmm, already past midday. He had been up rather late last night, night terrors plaguing him as they often did nowadays. He must’ve slept in, Blue had always been an early riser. Up just before the sun, back to bed late in the evening. Dream was pretty sure the only days he hadn’t seen Blue out on a morning jog were those that he asked the other to stick around. For safety, for planning, for breakfast… If he knew Blue well enough, which he liked to think he did, Blue was probably out right about now helping the supply carts unload to the outer tents. They always came in on the 2nd of every month, and the calendar marked it as such. Bless Blue for keeping such good track of affairs. 

The prince was practiced as he pulled on his remaining accessories. His archery gloves, which carried up to his elbows, and the thick leather boots gifted to him by a cobbler in the closest village. The boots were durable and comfortable, and while they weren’t the morst appealing at first, Blue had suggested that they find someone to embroider them with Dream’s symbol, the sun. They’d done so, asking one of the refugees they’d taken in if she could, and now they felt much more homey. Of course, it’d been several years now and they were looking worse for wear, but he’d grown a bit sentimental. 

These things were his, and he could keep them as long as he liked. No one here cared if they were mud-stained and threadbare in a few places, they were always looking at his face, after all. 

The moment they were buckled securely, Dream took the chance to stroll towards the door and push outside. 

Just as his plants suggested, the air was warm and dry, something which was deeply familiar to him, and admittedly placed him into a much warmer mood. Especially because, with the good weather, folks had gone about and placed their tapestries outside again. Banners and hanging pieces, all adorned with the shapes of the sun, in bright yellows, striking orange, and even some with that familiar pink accent. Usually, when it rained or snowed, they’d place the expensive and valuable symbols inside for safety, but with the warm air it felt only right that he could once again see his colors flying. 

It reminded him why he was doing all this. He had to regain power, to usurp his brother. Free him from whoever was whispering lies into his ears. Be crowned and see his sun in place of the moons which had infected every inch of the capital and many cities beyond. Though, for now, this was good enough. His own little paradise. 

The walk int the campsite proper was a little ways out from the cabin, a slightly thinner trail through a thin set of trees. Enough that he could see the camp, but the camp wasn’t directly connected to his little house, he needed his privacy every once in a while. 

From even the short walk away he could hear that the camp must’ve been bustling. Warm weather tended to make all of his people more active, it was familiar and welcoming, and rife with time to finish tasks like chores, or playing games, or, even better yet, training. Here there was no dedicated guard like back home, but the militia was very involved in wanting to learn combat, and Blue was certainly a good motivator for them. The clashing of steel and grunting of labored movements was one of several clue-ins that he’d have to stop by the little patch of dirt they used as a training arena of sorts. Off to the side of camp, with a few benches, a shed to store practice weapons, and several targets for aiming practice. Nothing fancy, but certainly enough for these people to learn. 

The prince could hardly help himself as he stepped into the camp proper and slipped that way. 

Each step passed colorful tents, heavy canvas died different colors by whoever most often occupied them. Some tenets were larger, housing the folks who stayed here as their home, run out of whatever village or city drove them off. Others were smaller, filled with supplies or individual tents for guests, dedicated to their returns. 

Dream passed Inl’s tent and smiled to himself in the silence. The inside fo the tent was piled high with half-finished paintings and splattered all over with different pigments. Paint was an expensive commodity, but Ink always seemed to know just how to make the brightest pigments out of the most random objects, plants and rocks and leaves he found on the ground, it was magical. The only thing he’d ever finished when he stayed at the camp for that brief while was the painting which Dream had practically begged him for, a royal portrait, or sorts. Dream sat atop a throne, Blue stood beside him at perfect attention, holding the sun-themed banner. It had been perfect, and it was another of Dream’s prized possessions. After that, Ink hadn’t had the focus to do any of the other paintings he started, but many of them were about tails of Dream’s usurpment, tails of tragedy told to him by the people, made in rough color splashes or with a big chunk of white at a corner where he lost his focus and moved on. Dream had gone inside once to make sure Ink hadn’t left anything behind before he left, but decided it felt lifeless and cold without the artist inside.And besides, Ink could never quite draw Nightmare right. Even though he’d drawn Dream perfectly, and they were identical twins, something always felt off about those pieces. 

The brief moment thinking about the artist fled. He was surely off killing some corrupt noble right about now for his own corrupt pay, and it was frankly none of Dream’s business so long as Ink wasn’t after his own people. 

His boots carried lightly over the soft grass, trodden down by the constant walking about camp. Light green and pretty, his heels sunk into soft soil beneath like some sort of bog, but it didn’t bother him a bit. If he had his way, the sun would stay out all day and dry up the ground a bit, make it more even and solid. Easier to walk over, less likely to slip into. 

To just his luck, only a few people spotted him in passing, waving or calling out to him, and a smile and a wave of recognition was all they needed to move on with their days. His aura must’ve been getting stronger, because he could only taste the ambient contentment from the entire camp as he wandered his way towards his destination. 

And, soon enough, it was upon him. That little patch of ground where the sounds had been coming from. Where the magic of monsters and the energy of humans were all alight with passion and focus. It was a wonder they all stayed so committed. Though, Dream had learned fairly quickly that people like these, who worked in farms, or crafts, making their money day to day, would work harder than any other person he’d ever met. Plus, it wasn’t nearly as hard for them to train as others. These very people could wrangle a steer with their bare hands, so all they needed was the fine-tuning and weapon training, none of the strenght building which usually took so long. 

That was probably why, now, they were as adept as they were with their weapons. Swords and halberds and morning stars and hammers, all of them clashed with another weapon or a practice dummy. Of course, there were only about 10 people out and about at the moment, but a few others sat on the sidelines. 

There was a brief moment where he was simply stood there. Something about combat, the thrill of the sounds and the movements and the force behind each swing, it was all mesmerising to him. He’d always been a natural with long-range weapons, and they were the only ones his mother ever approved of him using. Staying out of the direct line of fire, attacking from far away, that was what would protect his physical body, and his image. If he was struck in a fight, then people would look poorly upon him. Of course, if he’d become King he could’ve done anything. Could’ve learned the sword, or even daggers, and gotten up close and personal. Seen the flurry of emotions fly through his opponents eyes even before he tasted them. No mother to tell him no, no babysitter, nothing. Just him and the battle. 

Alas, here he is, still using his arrows, and still not using close-combat weaponry, unlike the training warriors before him. In fact, he was pretty positive he was one of the only people who actually used the arrow range, even if he didn’t need to anymore. Shots were engrained into his mind, muscle memory practically as easy as sleeping. Maybe easier, actually. 

Regardless, he found himself forcing his eyelights past the forms of the fighting parties, and instead skimmed for Blue. Dream didn’t want to interact with the merchants today, but he knew Blue’s next stop would most likely be here. He couldn’t ever pass up as great a day as this to practice.

“Prince Dream!” The call for him was loud and excited, and a hot rush of child-like wonder burned through his focus as he stood waiting. 

His eyelights shot over, catching sight of a monster he knew should be familiar to him. There very very few people who brought their little ones to the camp, for safety reasons mostly, and those who did often had very subdued children, ones who rarely spoke or played or caused trouble. This child was entirely different. Dream always knew they were nearby, because children’s emotions were far more potent. Adult emotions felt like a warm bath, while children’s joy, for example, was like someone had splashed hot tea onto his lap. Not painful, but far more striking. 

The tyke who rushed towards him now was giggling in high-pitched squeals and stared at him with two bright orange eyelights, beig and round. He was a little skeleton, maybe four, who had white bones with splotches of a greyish hue splattered across his face and hands. Today he was wearing a little white and yellow tunic which had obviously taken some falls into the grass since he put it on that morning.

“Copper, what did we say about running with the practice blade?” Another voice called out, this one deeper and far more familiar to Dream.

The little one, who Dream now spotted was carrying a dulled wooden dagger in one of his clumsy hands, bolted past Dream’s legs, only to pivot and rush in circles around him with an energy unmatched and giggles that were unrivaled in joy. HE was obviously getting enjoyment out of causing mischief for his guardian. 

Dream’s gaze traveled away from Copper with his smile in-tact, not getting a look at the adult whom he knew he knew. Eclipse, one of Copper’s two parents. He was also a skeleton, older than Dream by at least a decade, and much taller with broader shoulders. His bones were a perfect white, his face a bit long, and his eyelights a simple white. He was wearing a tunic not unlike his son, but adorned with all sorts of belts and a heavy fur wrapped around his shoulders despite the heat. It was a dark brown, his partner’s prized pelt. 

Of course, he should’ve expected to see Eclipse sometime today. He’d been eagerly awaiting his partner’s return from the mission. They’d be back tonight.

“Eclipse, how have you been?” Dream asked courteously, drawing his eyes back to Copper with a plan rapidly forming. 

Eclipse came to a halt beside him, at least an arm’s length away, and sighed a fond sigh. “I am faring well, all considered. Since Ichor went off for this mission, Copper’s been insisting that he has to learn to fight so he can protect us.” Eclipse said. “I apologize for his antics, he’s insisted that he start training right away.”

Eclipse sounded humored, but Dream could feel the tiredness seeping from his shoulders. A tension that was surely weighing on him. For a moment, it had entirely slipped his mind, but a glance confirmed his suspicion. Ichor and Eclipse had been away from camp fro a few weeks, about four months back. They’d had a soulling, and now it sat bundled in Eclipse’s arms, quiet and content, probably sleeping. Something warmed Dream’s heart, knowing that this little skelton was under the impression that he could defend his father and little sibling. 

Dream chuckled under his breath and gave a genuine grin, letting a small burst of positivity wave away from his core, pushing back a bit of Eclipse’s worry along with it. 

“No need to be sorry, I was eager to train when I was young too.” Dream confided, but before Eclipse could give a response, Dream crouched and shot his arms out, catching Copper under the arms and practically tossing him up into the air. He was obviously taken by surprise, because he shrieked with glee and stared at Dream with his big eyelights and the biggest smile. He looked a lot like his other parent, Dream realized. 

Copper giggled and Dream held him aloft. Copper hardly weighed anything, and it was a little cute how he kicked his muddy little boots in the open air as Dream held him aloft. He was entirely unbothered by his capture, and the energy obviously had yet to fade. 

“So, you want to be big and strong to protect your father and little sibling?” Dream asked to Copper, making a mock serious face, obviously exaggerated and playful. 

Copper gasped and nodded rapidly, excitedly brandishing his little wooden dagger. “Papa gave me dis! I stab any bad guys!” He insisted excitedly, swishing it around wildly in his little hand, arm limited to his side by the way Dream was holding him. 

Now this was an excited little fellow. Very cute and lively. Dream wondered if he ad this much energy, rushing ahead of his twin to get out into the courtyard and run around, climb the trees when their babysitter wasn’t looking. Nightmare sometimes wrestled with him, he missed those days. 

“Well, I thin you have the makings to be a brave warrior!” Dream encouraged, Copper wriggling happily in his grip, “Just remember, your papa and father want to keep you safe too, so listen to them, alright? That’s how you can get to be just as strong as them.” 

This was met by Copper’s nodding yet again, “So, don’t go running with that dangerous blade, alright? You might accidentally stab a not-bad guy.” Dream added, to which Copper gasped.

The little boy pulled one of his hands to cover up his mouth with wide eyes, shaking his head vigorously. “I won’t stab a not-bad guy! Only bad bad guys!” He insisted. 

Dream just shook his head and tutted, “I know, I know, but accidents happen! My friend Ink, he fights with knives sometimes, and he tripped and almost stabbed someone right in the eye once!” Dream exclaimed, and closed his right socket dramatically. 

This seemed to make Copper hold back a growing smile, and instead his expression was something almost close to a pout. His best attempt at a serious face, Dream had to imagine. Copper nodded one singular, forceful, nod this time. Some sort fo silent pledge not to run with his dagger anymore. 

Dream smiled at him, “Good, good! First step to becoming a strong warrior, listen to your parents.” he insisted, before lowering Copper down with a smooth motion. 

The kid giggled again as Dream rustled the top of his skull, and Copper made careful steps towards his dad, an obvious attempt at suddenly being responsible with the harmless wooden blade. Dream was a little proud, usually he did much worse with kids, had to resort to his magic. Maybe Blue was rubbing off on him after all.

“You really are a miracle-worker, my Prince.” Eclipse said softly, reaching one of his own hands down to gently caress the top of Copper’s skull. He nuzzled into his father’s leg and hugged it, attention distracted by watching the other fight not far off from them. 

Dream didn’t deny it, and instead just slunk a bit closer. He peered down at the babybones wrapped in Eclipse’s arm, held snug in place by a sling. It was pearly white just like its brother, but had a slightly longer face with pronounced cheekbones. Dream couldn’t help but notice the tension return to Eclipse’s emotions. 

“What’s their name, have you two decided yet? I’m sorry I wasn’t able to check in with you sooner.” Dream asked.

Eclipse seemed unbothered when Dream lifted a hand and gently brushed it against the babybone’s skull. It didn’t stir, didn’t even seem to register the contact. 

“His name is Steel.” Eclipse answered softly, “I told Ichor we wouldn’t be naming any more after metal alloys, but I can never say no to him. Steel’s eyelights are a beautiful shade of metallic silver, it was just too fitting.” Eclipse muttered. “And please, don’t trouble yourself with it. We are well aware of how busy you have been.” 

Eclipse gently bounced his arm a bit, and the babybones curled a bit closer to his chest, burying into the fur cloak draped over Eclipse’s shoulders. He seemed a bit more at ease as the little one gave a little smile in his sleep.

“Handsome name, Ichor has good taste I’m afraid.” Dream teased, eliciting a smale laugh from Eclipse.

“Do you think he’ll make it home safe, my prince?” Eclipse suddenly asked. 

Dream blinked in surprise, looking up to Eclipse. The other skeleton still had his eyes on the babybones tucked against his chest, but Dream had a feeling he was being watched nonetheless.

“You mean Ichor?” He asked, and to a hum of confirmation, he tilted his head with a grin, “I’m sure he’ll come home safe and sound. Blue’s been sure to send him on non-combat missions, and with plenty of back-up and supplies. We both know that he has a family waiting for him here, we wouldn’t send him anywhere dangerous.” 

That was a lie. Dream didn’t have any qualms about it. He just knew it was a lie. Every mission was dangerous, could turn to combat, and might end in death. Every person here, as much as Blue tried to deny, was expendable. They were part of a cause, they had to be. Of course, Dream would never put children in danger, but Ichor, just like every other person here, came willingly looking to help. He volunteered his family for this willingly. 

Of course, that isn’t what people like to hear. So, he’ll tell him things he’s heard Blue say. Blue was so kind-hearted, a softie. The moment he heard Ichor and Eclipse were having another soulling he’d re-assigned all their missions and work, and even after they’d both recovered, after Ichor was no longer carrying, he sent the guy on the easier missions. Blue didn’t want to split a family. 

Eclipse sighed, almost with relief, at Dream’s words. “Thank you, my Prince. I suppose I’m just worried over nothing. I’ve been known to do such silly things.” Eclipse relented, and smiled. It was tired, but much happier than before. Dream’s aura must’ve finally gotten to him. Broken down those worries. 

“Anytime, Eclipse. I suppose I’ll see you at their return tonight?” Dream voiced, though he knew the answer. Of course he’d be there. 

Eclipse only took a few more moments, wishing Dream a good rest of the day, before he ushered his son foreward and off elsewhere. Dream waved goodbye to them until they passed a corner, and he internally sighed in relief as he turned back to his original goal. 

Dream moved closer by a few paces and plopped himself down onto one of the benches, one side left empty by someone who had just rushed onto the field. He summoned his bow to his hands and fiddled with the string, and ill-disguised attempt at seeming busy as he just watched the proceeding spars. 

So many people stopped him daily around camp, often simply wanting to chat and catch up on their lives. Eclipse’s new babybones was, thankfully, the most exciting piece of news in the last few months, but before that was a wedding between a bunny monster and a hare monster, before that was the death of someone’s spouse and a subsequent burial, before that siblings reunited, they all had their own stories and things to keep track of. Dream found it trivial, but unfortunately, everyone expected him to now these things, remember them, keep track and ask when they met outside of business times. If he wanted these people to stay, he needed to know. 

His only grace was that Blue was very talented in chatting. Where Dream could rouse crowds and battalions, Blue thrived in a setting of just one or two, and somehow knew just about everything about everyone. They’d talk over dinner, about what they did while split up doing their duties. Dream would tell him about the state of the garden, or the new map he managed to draw up with the cartographer, while blue would tell him all the latest menial news. Crushes, holiday plans, when new people were coming in, all of it. He was always so happy, that Dream simply learned to remember it through him. Shockingly an easy feat. 

The clanging of swords and the heat were both a welcome comfort, Dream was soaking in the sun like some sort of lizard on its rock.

Dream just hoped he wouldn’t eat his words later. Blue had sent ichor and a few others on a mission to simply attend the latest ball, and annual celebration for one of his brother’s elite knights. The Criminal, he thought, the one with the tiger mask. Killer. The parties hadn’t had conflict in the four years they’d been running, and Dream was pretty sure ichor wouldn’t go missing. Yet, anyone they sent directly to the capital had a habit of not returning. Blue had forbade him from sending more spies that way, and had only agreed to send a small party because the ball was meant to be open to the public, so they wouldn’t be technically intruding or trespassing. Along with that, Ichor wasn’t directly affiliated with their cause. Eclipse, up until now, was usually the one more familiar with intel-work. Ichor had always been more focused on welfare and support. So, Ichor couldn’t be recognized. ‘

Dream would just have a lot of explaining to do if his promise went awry. Grieving souls were never easy, especially those who had children in tow. They often loved the hardest, and fell shortly after their beloved. Frankly, Dream didn’t want to lose two promising members of the rebellion, or be left with their children in the worst case scenario.

The prince sighed to himself. Blue would scold him for thinking like this. Maybe he should worry less about the return party and more about his own training. He couldn’t risk getting rusty now. 

-     -

Dream was aware the range was a bit out of his sight from where he’d wandered off to get a drink of water, but when he returned, he hadn’t expected to find an arrow embed itself into the block he was passing beside. 

He jumped a bit with the force of the heavy thunk and almost choked on his own breath when he spotted exactly who was actually training with a bow of all things. 

Across the range, looking wide-eyed and surprised, was Blue! He had their heavy long-bow clutched in his right hand, an arrow hanging to his side y his left, and a whole slew of arrows leaned against the fence behind him, the kind with thin, piercing points that could tear through armor. Dream had never been more baffled, amused, and amazed all in one. Why was Blue training archery?

“Dream! Hey!” Blue called out, and he sounded a bit awkward. 

Dream took a moment to examine the arrow which had pieced the block of hay they were using as a target. It had entirely missed the circle, actually passing itself at an odd angle through he side, the point poking out from the other end haphazardly. That must’ve used a lot of force if nothing else. 

Actually, it seemed Blue might’s been making some progress. Dream had been gone for almost half an hour, caught up in talk with one of the new refugees, welcoming them to the camp. That had given his knight plenty of time to try more than enough shots. Dream spotted now the several arrows which had dug themselves into the dirt, all at a downward falling angle as through Blue had been aiming for the dirt. Then, beyond the hay bale, he could see that several trees in the woods beyond had arrows embedded in them. He didn’t know how he’d missed them, honestly. 

Dream circled back and gripped one which had dug into a pine tree’s skinny trunk, and tugged with all his might. He nearly stumbled, and the end of the arrow seemed to have sap coating it, like blood of the tree itself. 

Dream actually laughed as he finally approached his knight, the arrow in-hand. 

“If you wanted syrup so badly, we could’ve asked for some on the resupply.” Dream joked.

He tapped the shaft of the arrow to the top of Blue’s skull, and the knight sheepishly ducked away from the sticky feeling, the arrow moving with him for a moment before springing away. Blue’s eyelights didn’t evade Dream’s, but Dream couldn’t help but notice the embarrassment becoming far more potent from his friend. 

“Ah, yes, you see…” Blue started, before pausing, “I had no intention of harming the flora.” Blue said, though it seemed a bit half-hearted. 

Blue rubbed at his skull as he lowered the long-bow from his front, down to his side. It was a huge weapon, with a string practically made of metal. Dream didn’t usually bother with the long-bows, sticking to the normal bows, or in desperate situations, crossbows. It took way too much power to shoot a longbow for his liking, limited movement. Usually people on horses used them. Dream couldn’t see the light leave someone’s eye from atop a finicky horse. 

“It was a good shot, even if you didn’t mean to hit the poor tree, Blue.” Dream amended. The last thing he wanted to do was embarrass Blue, it was obvious the mood was tanking with Dream’s ill-timed jokes. “Can I ask why you’re trying out the long-bow today?” 

The feeling of Blue’s pride washing over Dream like a comforting blanket as the other seemed to get a second wind. He puffed his chest and lifted the bow right in front of him again. 

“The Magnificent Blue has actually been learning to shoot for some time! The smaller ones that you use are not very cooperative, but this large one does well!” The explained proudly, “It was meant to be a surprise, but I would not lie to you!” 

He seemed largely unbothered by the fact that this secret of his had just been broken wide open. Though, Dream had to imagine this had been going on for a while now. The last time Dream had seen Blue attempt to shoot an arrow, it had narrowly avoided breaking their window in the back garden. They still had a notch in the wall on the back porch, because Dream begged Blue not to fill it in. He’d laughed so hard, and back then he’d needed a good-

“Wait, why was it going to be a surprise?” Dream asked curiously, raising a brow to watch Blue.

The knight laughed loudly, “Because! The plan was to get very very good at it, and then join you for a practice one day and show you! I know you are very talented with lond-range weapons, and if I were too, then I could fight beside you without placing you in danger! You mentioned it once, a while back.” Blue explained as though it was the simplest thing in the world. 

Dream felt a little something in his chest shift to the left as he processed what Blue was referencing. He had mentioned that. Back when they had to scare off some bandits during their trip here, before they found the cottage. He wished Blue hadn’t had to charge in while Dream sat up in a tree and shot at them. Dream had wanted to be in the fray, but… Blue thought he wanted them both to be long range fighters? So they could stay close? 

That was up there with some of the most heartwarming things Blue had ever done for Dream. Trust him, there were a LOT of heartwarming things Blue had done. This was surely, however, in the top 15. 

“Oh, that’s kind of you.” Dream said gently, 

In his distraction, Blue had knocked another arrow and lifted it up. Lined it. Drew the string back. Released. 

The heavy string cut through the air with a vocal slapping noise, and both skeletons watched idly as the arrow arced through the air and just hardly skimmed the top of the hay bail, chunking into the ground somewhere behind it instead. There was a moment of Blue letting out a breath and calmly lowering the bow before he grinned again at Dream. His expression was so concentrated not two moments before. 

“You know that I would do anything for you, Dream. Besides, using a bow is rather fun! I was unaware of how careful you have to be while firing, and setting it up, and aiming.” He listed off with a laugh. 

Now the bow was back at Blue’s side, and Dream was even a bit impressed with his bow etiquette. It wasn’t pressed to the first at his side, he wasn’t fidgeting and bending it, even his motions before he hadn’t dared to dryfire with it. He wondered if Blue had picked it up from him, or if he’d sought out advice from another bowman somewhere. Either way.

“I never meant to discourage you from using your hammer, Blue. I know you’re the happiest while fighting with it.” Dream said earnestly, “But if you wish to continue working with the long-bow, I’m sure I could give you a few pointers.” 

At the enthused expression he received from his knight, Dream grinned, “And then maybe you could teach me to use a hammer. Or, maybe a morning star? They always seemed to have a fitting name.” Dream teased, but Blue seemed even more delighted by the thought.

“That sounds great! We should start now!” Blue agreed, and readied his bow again. 

Dream was a bit startled, but couldn’t bring himself to deny the enthusiasm. After all, he’d been hoping to train with Blue today anyways. 

He watched again as Blue lined up his shot, but this time, he actually watched carefully. He moved behind Blue, and immediately saw a smidge of problem. 

“Here, lift your elbow a bit higher.” He instructed, He stepped forward and set his hand under Blue’d elbow, the one which was pulling his arrow back. He shifted under the touch and stopped right where Dream stopped nudging. Immediately his posture looked a lot better, and his aim seemed more sure. 

“Try pointing a bit further to the right, you’re leaning left.” He added on, and saw Blue squint a bit harder at his target, before repositioning his aim, shifting his feet along with it before Dream could say anything. 

Then, when Dream gave the commend to release, Blue sent the arrow flying. 

This time, it whistled as it shot and struck the bail right at the top ring of the target, almost dead center. Blue whooped an excitement, and Dream hummed. He could’ve sworn that would’ve hit the bullseye…

Without much through, Dream summoned his own bow and took aim from Blue’s side. His night went quiet, watching intently, and Dream let loose his arrow with less than half the preparation time, hardly a thought. Just as he’d expected of Blue’s, the arrow pierced the center of the ring flawlessly, though it didn’t sink in nearly as deep. His brow furrowed as the stared at the target. Why hadn’t Blue’s shot done that?

Sure, the bow was heavier, the arrow too, but the fundamentals should’ve been the same. The golden arrow and landed below the other one, why was that?

“Dream?” Blue’s voice cut through his thoughts.

Dream blinked at Blue, and Blue stared back at him, seeming mildly worried.

“My apologies, could you try hitting my arrow? I’ll spot you again.” Dream requested, and Blue just nodded and prepared himself again. 

This time, Blue automatically placed his elbow up and turned himself to the right. Dream didn’t even need to do more than a little nudge to his arm to encourage a slight but more movement to the right. Blue should strike this perfectly.

The arrow flew, beautifully with a bit of a spin, and… Lodged a few inches to the left of the target. He was aiming right! How-

Ohhhhhh.

“That was great, Blue! You had everything but an extra set of eyes to direct you, good work!” Dream praised.

Now Blue celebrated properly, wrapping his arms around Dream’s sides in a heavy hug. A familiar one that Dream returned, as he realized how silly he had been for a moment. His arrows weren’t affected by the wind. Blue’s weren’t magic, so of course the air would throw them off course! For a brief, horrifying, moment he worried he’d somehow stumbled in his directions. It was just the wind. 

Blue's hug was tight and affectionate, and very very welcome. Dream savored it, returning it tightly, until Blue released him and raised the bow once more. He figured it wouldn’t hurt to train until the caravan arrived in a few hours.

-    -    

Poor choices. He didn’t make many, but he wasn’t going to try and claim that training right up until the arrival was a good call. All he was expected to do was welcome them back, and then listen toIchor recount any important information they’d picked up on, but still. He didn’t enjoy being all grimy and sweaty and middy was the best look or the most comfortable. His only solace was that Blue was equally messay, so he didn’t feel too out of place.

Ask they approached the path into camp, they saw that the light of a lantern was glowing just a bit down the way, and there alone the road stood the sentinels for the night, and Eclipse. 

Eclipse still wore that same tunic as before, though it had gained a grass stain along the bottom hem, no doubt from Copper breaking off at a full sprint at some point during the day. The skeleton himself was without his children, and when Blue greeted him and asked, it turned out he’d left them with someone named Jodie. One of the humans, he believed, a kind elderly woman here with her adult son. Eclipse looked exhausted, but Dream could tell is must’ve been from building worry. Nim help him and make sure that Ichor returns on that cart in one piece.

They stood there together in the quiet, and when the carriage pulled to a stop before them, Dream counted as each person hopped off and stood at attention before himself and Blue. One, two, three, for, five, six, seven… Eight. Ichor must’ve been looking to give his partner a soul-attack, because he was the last of the party to jump off the back of the cart, a thick bag slung over his back and his grin wide and stupid as ever.

Dream acted like he didn’t notice as Eclipse bowled into Ichor’s side, nearly tripping the both of them over and into the grass. Technically, procedure was that Dream would be the first to hear any of them speak, as they could’ve been keeping secrets. However, he knew better than to get between lover birds. That was more of a headache than it was worth. 

Only when the two were done and Eclipse gave Ichor a swift peck on the forehead did Dream usher everyone into the debriefing tent to discuss their findings.

“You’re saying he’s bringing in new knights?” Dream questioned.

Everyone had been explaining their stories, but it seemed that Ichor had managed to get the closest. Hear the most. A servant had tripped over him and spilled a red wine on his suit, so he followed them back to the servants halls to get it cleaned up. Because he was so amicable, the maids weren’t very quiet and told him exciting news. Two more knights being trained.

Ichor had asked more, as much as he dared, but all he could get was that one of them was straight out of the dungeon, and the other one was burly and definitely a foreigner. Some sort of hired body, they swore. It’d be fall when the next party was rumored to be happening. 

Dream hated to hear such a thing. The first criminal was enough, but this second one? And then another? Dream couldn’t fathom what sorts of horrible plans were being fed into his twin’s mind, what horrid plans they were going to enact, criminals and thugs running the country by his brother’s side? 

He sighed a bit, resting a hand against his chin. 

“Did you see my twin at all?” He asked then, to the group.

Ichor was the only one to nod, and Dream gestured to him. 

“The guy was just as guarded as ya said. The Tiger kept circling back up to the balcony where he was hanging, but the stairs were all blocked off by guards, and some other folks were sitting up there with him. Magic on one of ‘em was strong.” Ichor explained, and Dream squinted as the torchlight glinted off of the skeleton’s single gold tooth. Now his pelt had been returned to him, and he looked perfectly barbaric, like the first day Dream had seen him. 

“Mm, unfortunate. My brother is smart, he wouldn’t spare any detail in his protection, I suppose.” Dream muttered, before simply nodding. “Thank you, all. I’m sure you’ve had a tiring past few nights. Go to your tents and rest up, I’ll call upon you if I need to speak with you again sometime later in the week.” 

He didn’t really want to dismiss them, but it was obvious half of them had gotten drunk off their asses within the first five minutes of being at the party. Ichor was really the only one with any good information, and even then, it was extremely limited. Of course, Dream had to be grateful that Nightmare must’ve been slipping with controlling the tittering tongues of his servants, it saved him the trouble of having to wait any longer for information. 

Nightmare adding new, dangerous, knights was not ideal, 

He watched as the party slowly filtered out, some stumbling, some half-awake, and even Ichor yawning as he ducked out of the tent. The only one who didn’t immediately flee was Blue, who sat for a few minutes longer before popping to his feet, gathering the notes strewn across the table, and helping Dream to his feet. 

Together, they left the tent and moved back to the cottage. By now it was far into the night, and Dream could see the stars out. The moon, a thin crescent, seemed to mock him as he took careful steps in the darkness of the path.  At least he’d gotten to enjoy the remaining sun the day had gifted him. 

When they entered the cottage, Dream groaned and moved immediately for the couch. He could try to sleep, but he knew Blue still had to do his nightly routine, and he wouldn't be able to rest with the new information that had been provided. 

“We’ll figure it out.” Blue said unprompted from across the main room. 

His friend was organizing the papers from tonight into a nice little box where they kept all the notes for their plans, and when he placed it back on the shelf, he moved over to the dummy in the corner of the room where he always hung his armor. Every night. 

“I know we will, it’s just…” Ough, he couldn’t say it! This was so infuriating! Every scout who managed to come back only brought him worse and worse news. 

“Do you know, or are you just saying that? Because I know that I know we can figure this out! Two monsters can’t make the difference in a coup!” Blue stated matter-of-factly as he undid the buckles on his chest plate and lifted it up onto its rightful spot. Next followed the boots and Dream watched him. The prince was practically deflated on the cushions of the old couch, a pillow quickly tugged into this arms. 

He was right. Dream knew it, he usually was after all. Still. It wasn’t the fighting that worried him. No, he and Blue alone could probably beat up whatever petty criminals were cabhorting with his twin. It was just… 

“I do. I just- I- I don’t know how my twin could be so stupid!” He exclaimed, practically burying his skull into the pillow, bringing his knees up to his chest, practically curling into a ball. “He was meant to be my advisor, he was the clever one. How could he resort to killers and hired mercenaries. After all those classes he used to tell me about, all the lessons he had to go to, how could he decide to take this path?” He said, hoping his voice was muffled by the cushion.

Unfortunately, like most items in this cottage, it seemed to be cheap and only decorative. No muffling capabilities in sight. He heard Blue sigh, and for a few minutes, the only noise was Blue removing the rest of his armor. 

When it faded, he strained to listen, and caught the floorboards creaking ever so gently under the weight of his friend’s approach. Then there was a pause, and then a weight on Dream’s skull. It trailed heavily down his neck and to his shoulders, before repeating itself. A soothing motion, one that Dream resisted for a moment. 

“I never got to meet him, but I do know you! I think we can definitely knock some sense back into him.” Blue reassured him, and this time Dream listened. 

Blue was right, after all. Blue had been able to knock sense into Dream. If anyone could bring Nightmare back to his senses, it would be Blue. 

He let the skeleton keep doing that comforting motion against his skull for a few more minutes, savoring the contact, before he sighed heavily and shrugged. Blue retracted his hand, and was watching Dream with a soft smile when the prince finally lifted his head. The two of them stared at each other for a moment, before Dream smiled back. 

They both really needed to get some rest. 

[weekdaysend]

The chucklefucks <3

I haven’t drawn these two in a while and wanted to see how different they look since then. They look relatively the same, my art style’s just improved lol

For those unaware these two were made for a “fake game” zine that got cancelled— but I got so attached to them and the concept that I kept them around. The premise is that an anxiety-ridden college student gets haunted by the demonic spirit of a dead rockstar and the two work together to win Vee concert tickets to her favorite artist, “Von Bomba”, while also figuring out the mysterious circumstances around Andi’s death.

At some point in time I’ll get to covering their story, but for now you get one off illustrations and concept art !!! 💥

[emiplayzmc]

okay i have went on a dandys world lore deep dive and after. a LOT of tabs i now have a pretty good understanding on what is going on i think :'D??

GOD thats more tabs than i thought but IT WAS WORTH IT :D

istg why do these lore filled roblox games never have comprehensive lore dives UGH it was very difficult to find any on regretevator (and the only one i could find the person who made it called bive "biv" which annoyed me enough to stop watching lmao)

anyways youre right glisten is the BEST absolute spamton coded guy i love how it plays the shattering mirror sound effect when he goes beserk THATS SO COOL and the letters in his room UAHUGUHUH

also its quite funny how easy it is to tell that Glisten is the favourite child... liek i looked at a good few npcs and he is the only twisted to have dialogue and he has the most lore and he has the most letters in his room and his trivia section was like 3x the size of any others lmao

idk if you know the whole lore of dandys world or just about glisten but if you do know everything then uuh what actually is the ichor operation??? and who are Arthur Walton and Delilah Keen? The wiki can only tell me so much lmao

also dandy reaaallyyy makes me think of flowey/chara.......

okay thats all byeeee :33

BLINKS AT YOU. SPREADING MY BRAINROT LIKE ICHOR, YEAHHHHH

Wait is it not pronounced like 'Biv-' omg maybe I should have picked up on that by the fact 'Bivey' is probably pronounced differently from 'Biv' but that is good to know hjgfsss. Real though Roblox games have such fun lore recently but it's utterly incomprehensible-

EVEN THE DEVS STAN GLISTEN IN THIS HOUSEHOLD 🙏🙏🙏 But yeah I never thought of that but he absolutely has the most going on with him as of right now 😭😭 Game is still in Alpha afaik so maybe the devs will add more stuff to the other characters in future updates? Also I think he was originally a DHMIS OC of the creators, so if he's existed for longer than the other characters I can get why he has a lot more going on :D

GRIPPING YOU BY THE SHOULDERS. I DONT KNOW WHAT KIND OF CHEMICALS THEY'RE PUTTING INTO THE ZESTY MIRROR. BUT IT IS THE ***SAME*** CHEMICALS THAT TOBY FOX PUT INTO SPAMTON AND THE ADDISONS, I KNOW IT IS.

Also YESSSS yesyesyes the glass shattering effect is so fun. When I tell you bro is TERRIFYING when he goes berserk though. He gains a MASSIVE speed boost and starts sprinting at mach speed towards whoever is in his line of sight 😭 Also he needs to be babysat when he's not berserk so I almost always volunteer ✨️✨️ I love that mechanic sm though, just the concept of needing to follow around a character who is utterly TERRIFIED of being left alone and is likely one of the VERY FEW Twisteds who still has their sanity among the practical ZOMBIES the others have become?? And the few people who actually seem alive and healthy probably give him such a massive amount of hope for salvation only to be ditched the moment the machines are done and having to watch his only hope just run away from him and treat him like the rest of the mindless Twisteds, no matter how much pain he's in and how much restraint he has to keep from being fully corrupted and hurting people?? MY HEART. I NEED AN EXTRA DIFFICULT GAMEPLAY METHOD WHERE YOU BRING HIM INTO THE ELEVATOR AND OTHER FLOORS WITH YOU. LIKE LIKE A REGRETEVATOR NPC.

Also the community collectively calls following him around to keep him sane 'babysitting' which is just funny to me. Hi yes hello this is an adult male mirror from the 90s who has experienced the horrors. Yes he is my son who needs to be perceived all the time and please never even breathe so much as an insult in his direction because he is very fragile </3

As far as I know Arthur and Delilah are the creators of the show in-universe! I don't know MUCH about them given that there isn't much ON them yet (I hope there's more soon aghhh) but from what I can gather, I think Delilah is maybe the start of something bad that happened, maybe how the ichor operation got started in the first place, and Arthur is the skeptic of them that wants to know what she's up to. Like. 'You said he has friends. I'll need them' from Delilah sounds so suspicious??? And Arthur writing that '[Delilah] reassured me that what happened wasn't [Delilah's] fault'?? DELILAH GURLIEPOP WHAT ARE YOU ***UP*** TO...... Also I myself don't know MUCH about the ichor operation in general yet, only that Mister Dandicus (Dandy, lol) is / most likely is running the show behind it and is responsible for what happened to the Twisteds (including probably his closest friend of all the Toons....... 😬😬😬 he gets real awkward when you buy Astro from the shop and dialogue says they don't talk as much as they used to so methinks he at least feels remorse for what he's done and doesn't talk to Astro much because of it......). Dandy is very Flowey and Chara-core, morally grey characters my absolute BELOVEDS 🫶🫶🫶

Anyways YESS YESSS SUCCUMB TO THE DANDY LORE, Roblox games are PEAK for lore and blorbos lately my god. I'm telling you they put chemicals in the 🫳🏳️‍🌈✨️ mirror that turned him into a character that rapidly makes a little hole in my brain right beside Spamton and the Addisons.

[sailorsally]

Cas meant he loved Dean as a friend! They are best buds! 🤝 Jensen called Misha his boyfriend but really they aren't even friends

[bleaksqueak]

Taking a break this week, so no update (unless I change my mind and post later this week. You know how the rat be.) My insomnia finally broke (mostly. sort of. 5 hours is better than none/two!) so I'm taking the next few days off to recuperate. Any and everyone who's dealing with these storms, too, please stay safe!

[vanhelsingapologist]

//scuttles in

Hey you should totally talk about Kasimir

Kasimir And The Terrible Horrible No-Good Very Bad 400 Years

CW: Sororicide, Child Death, discussion of mental health, discussion on the nature of shame.

This is going to be so, so long. Disclaimer that this is our table's interpretation of Kasimir Velikov. Spoilers for Curse of Strahd and the Dusk Elves abound.

Guilty, Not Remorseful

Kasimir is one of those characters who seems to be very consistent in characterization across tables. I do believe that if you asked DMs to list their Kasimir’s traits, a majority would hit the Trifecta of Misery:

Guilty

Sad

Desperate.

A massive part of our Kasimir’s characterization is how my DM draws the line between regret, guilt, and remorse.

He feels fathomless guilt surrounding killing Patrina, but he never describes himself as feeling remorse. To explain, I’ll divide it like this:

He feels guilty because he knew it would have a repercussion. He did it anyway. Patrina was engaged to Strahd.

He did not expect the repercussions to be all that they were. This was a mistake, but I don’t entirely know whether he sees his decision surrounding killing Patrina as one or not.

He does not feel remorse, because that would require him to regret what he did (killing his sister). Our Kasimir does not feel remorse for killing her, and it makes him guiltier because of everything her death set off, not to mention the love he held for his sister.

He tells himself that he did what he had to do (he did not), and wishes there were another way (there undoubtedly was), which gives way to shame. 

"I had to do it, but I wish I didn't." "... Did I have to? Surely, yes?"

So, he has these interplaying themes connected to the overarching theme of guilt, all of which drive his every action in our campaign. 

He is okay with this.

He is okay with the idea that every day is a punishment. He did what he had to do, he says, and he believes he should pay that price forever. 

The Whole Patrina Thing

In our game, Patrina didn’t seem to be so much in love with Strahd as she was in love with power. My running theory is that she was intending to dethrone Strahd or overpower him once she’d been turned. 

Because (I believe) in our game, he was one of the first vampires, if not The First Vampire, she didn’t quite realize how spawn mechanics worked— and to that end, neither did the dusk elves.

The Story

Kasimir holds to the story he told us. He discovered his sister half-turned, having received two of the three bites required to undergo the bride ceremony. 

I believe he discovered her in the process of trying to feed (a la Lucy Westenra) and came to the conclusion that she had been irrevocably turned into this horrifying, unknowable dead thing. So he gathered the dusk elves and killed her, setting off the chain of events. 

In the years since he’s been confronted with new information regarding vampirization and the process of turning, but he’s also said that if Patrina hadn’t died, she likely would’ve gone through with it anyway. Is this to avoid heaping more guilt onto his shoulders? Maybe. I don't know. Despite his guilt, he still, interestingly, provides a justification.

We have nothing to contradict his word with.

However, he also told us that he’s been experiencing dreams where she tells him how sorry she is, how much she hates him, how much she loves him, and how much she would have changed if he'd let her live.

His foundational beliefs get preyed upon, because what if he was wrong? What if he doomed everyone because he couldn’t compromise his morality for a moment?

Kasimir’s Backstory Is Misery In Case You Were Wondering

In our campaign, Kasimir and Patrina were raised to be the leaders of their communities and witnessed Rahadin’s exile and subsequent alliance with King Barov.

When the Dusk Elves regrouped after a crushing defeat, Kasimir, who is a Druid in our campaign, was voted in to be the head of the remaining families, and Patrina, an Archmage, left for Ravenloft intermittently. 

I think there was an effort for peace being made with a marriage between Strahd and herself, but obviously, the Tatyana Conundrum came in (Kasimir Win!), and then a couple years down the line, the Patrina Conundrum happened (Kasimir Fail!).

By the time he made his big bad decision, he was not only the head of his community but was also the father to a small child and the husband to a man who would die defending their family.

So, as far as he’s concerned, Kasimir is almost directly responsible for the deaths of his entire family.

He’s in a constant internal battle between blaming Ravenloft— perhaps predominantly, Rahadin— for enacting disproportionate revenge and blaming himself for pulling the trigger. Two things can be true. And still, to this day, his remaining people trust him. He still leads them and protects them. Yowch.

Kasimir As The Moral Compass

While traveling with our party, Kasimir was militant about doing what he believed was right. It could’ve been because he might’ve literally snapped in half if he took on any more shame, but probably had more to do with the fact that he was likely projecting heavily onto our party. 

He held his hand on the metaphorical stove for so long that he has nothing but bone left, so when he sees the party tentatively edging towards the fire, he takes action. 

Because he lives in a cesspool of anguish, I think an argument can be made that he wants to ensure his actions aren’t repeated by someone else. That is for HIM.

How It Affects Dynamic

This makes him fun to have in the party, because not only is Sororicide “Hypocrite” Velikov telling us not to do things, but it also provides a good bit of levity to what is otherwise one of the emotionally heaviest characters in our campaign.

Having this ancient elven druid sternly ask if kicking the corpse of enemy #6 made you feel good and having to shamefully tell him ’no’ creates a bond like no other.

It’s also an interesting way to have him trying to semi-atone without explicitly expressing remorse. Because he judges himself so harshly, he judges the party by the same standards.

Kasimir Will Make The Same Mistake Over And Over

The problem is that shame is poison to recovery.

Kasimir does not believe he has a place in a world in which he is not suffering, so whenever he is confronted with redemption, he’ll do what keeps him rotting.

I don’t know how my other players feel about this, but I’m convinced that it’s not that he can’t break the cycle, it’s that he won’t.

In trying to do the right thing, I think he will choose the wrong thing. He will stone her to death again and again and not know why.

There He Goes Again!

It’s why I think these dreams are such a big problem. I think they’re goading him. Whatever’s causing it (the Dark Powers, Strahd, or Patrina herself) knows him well enough that he will make a horrible, horrible decision. As far as theory goes, I think it may really be Patrina, because who would know him better than his sister?

In our campaign, Kasimir is currently acting as a mentor to a half dusk-elven wizard/druid who habitually toes the line between good and evil. He waffles between wanting to save her and wanting to nip the problem in the bud, propelled by his profound shame for wanting to do it.

He knows he shouldn’t have anything to do with it, but whereas Van Richten isolates himself out of necessity, Kasimir creates this wall between them because he sees the cycle starting again and feels helpless to stop it. It’s like he doesn’t realize he’s actively recreating the cycle.

Sound familiar, Strahd?

He and Van Richten are two characters who might have the biggest questions of the nature of redeemability hanging over their head, and both grapple with themes of guilt.

I think they differ because, in our campaign, Van Richten is actively seeking redemption. Kasimir is not.

He can’t imagine atonement even exists.

[icelogged]

Sacred Heart of Jesus, Ukrainian Catholic Parish of Tolstoi, Manitoba

[screambirdscreaming]

Much could be said interrogating the concept of "gifted kid burnout" or "smart kid syndrome" or whatever you call it, and much of it's been said better than I can

But what gets to me about it sometimes is that.... I feel like people have described a reasonable concept and then related themselves to it backwards. Or taken a real problem and constructed their concept of it backwards.

Like yeah, it does kind of fuck a person up to be highly rewarded in this extremely arbitrary constructed environment, which incidentally is where you spend most of your waking hours, while being told that it's all deeply related to your excellence and worth as a person. And then when you leave that constructed environment, you fall apart and fail to function in all sorts of ways, because you've built your skills to so completely rely on that environment (while being told this is the best most excellent thing you could do and the best most valuable way to be).

And it basically leaves a person with several options:

1) cling tighter to the structure that validates you. Dedicate yourself to reaffirming that the structure itself is meaningful to reinforce it's ability to impart meaning back to you. Spend your whole life running from failure.

2) realize that you can't keep up with the demands, but construct this as either a personal failing or a failing of the system to train you well enough. Keep seeking sources of validation to replace the hole in your sense of self-worth where being special used to go.

3) realize that the whole thing was kind of a scam from the start. Being ranked is bad. Proving value is bad. Learn to do things and enjoy things without having to be good at them or prove something.

And the thing is that I think option 3 is necessary to actually be at peace with yourself as a person. (And also, it's necessary to find true solidarity with people who were fucked up by the same system on the opposite end, being told they *weren't* good enough. Which is worse. The fact that that's worse doesn't mean I can't or won't talk about how this one sucks, but if you can't acknowledge that that one's worse, I think that's a problem.)

Anyway. Probably I'm barking up entirely the wrong tree, because the whole concept of "gifted burnout" is basically the domain of people who are stuck on option 2. And it's not like I don't see tons of stuff aimed at "it's ok to be bad at things! Enjoy it anyway!" Like that message is very much out there and in ways that I can infer to mean other people are also wrangling with this same stuff.

The problem is. Sometimes I have a problem and this type of framing is the only way I have to get at it. Sometimes I take a class where I accidentally fall into the role of being the Whizz Kid, and it's a weird sort of adrenaline hit, where being Good At The Thing feels really good and important but it takes up too much of my brainspace and I find myself more easily frustrated and it's harder to find contentment. And then I have to unpick that whole thing and walk it back and remind myself that it literally doesn't matter to be good at the thing. It's just a thing and you're just some guy and you can engage with the actual world rather than the abstract field of Showing Off Land. Like it's this whole other plane of social interaction, which may or may not exist - as in, no one else in the room is necessarily there with you, sending or receiving any signals on that frequency - but you can get stuck there. And it feels bad to be stuck there, constantly sending out "look aren't I special?" and getting upset if you don't recieve back enough pings of "wow you're so special." What is this bullshit? I don't want to be that guy. I don't like that it runs so deeply in me that it can be activated by accident.

Sometimes I do something that turns out pretty well and I want to be regular proud of it but I find myself ping-ponging between thinking I'm amazing and unprecedented and thinking that actually it's probably stupid and all sorts of people can do it - and what sort of fucked up value scale is that? It turned out pretty good and that's neat. It doesn't matter how *common* it is, that isn't anything. If it's worth doing it's worth there being plenty of it.

Like it's fine. It's fine. I've learned to recognize it and I know how to combat it so I walk myself back out of it. It just also kind of sucks. And sometimes, I wish I had an easy way to vent about it, without falling into the whole circlejerk of people coming up with backhanded ways to tell each other they're still special enough. Rather than actually deeply accepting that it's ok that you're not any better than other people.

You are just some guy! Huzzah!

[madame-fear]

So I’m curious, this priest of yours, is he a hot young priest? New to his position and maybe not as strong in his convictions as an older, more practiced priest would be? More….malleable? 😏

Or is he an older priest, stronger in his convictions, wiser, more confident in his position and his experience. Will be tougher to….corrupt? But not impossible 😉

Ooo, nonnie... I like the way you’re thinking already! ☝️😌

Okay so!!! Yapping time has begun— this hot cute priest seems to be in, I dare to say, his 40s... Or well, grasping on his 40s, ykwim? In the way he acts, in his face and in 🥰😍 HIS LITERALLY EVERYTHING 😍🥰 you can tell he’s a mature man, older than me. And you know what’s the best? Is that he has a strict, serious face— AND HE HAS BLUE EYES SO DON’T GET ME STARTED ON HOW BEAUTIFULLY DEEP HIS STARE IS !!! 🤤

I haven’t really talked to him, I have very briefly heard him speaking to someone and he has this absolutely beautiful soothing voice, and he seems to be very wise... My intuition (which it never fails like the 99% of the time) tells me he must be quite strong on his convictions, and that he has experience on his position as priest— I’ve got to figure that out, but who knows? Maybe I can wiggle my way into his mind. After noticing him staring at me for an entire minute and I caught him doing so, I think I should test him out... 😉