#hope this goes to the right people

[drblacula]

:3 < idk who needs to hear this but all your rentry graphics are beautiful . Even the ones that you’re the least proud of , even the ones you think you should’ve did better on .

cuz like . dude to me they’re all amazing keep it up . and like always remember that trial and error helps you develop your editing style , since no one is perfect at something first try .

… ps : remember that I love you and I’m so proud of you 😭😭😭 YOURE DOING SO GREAT KEEP IT UPPP ❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

It's the 2 month anniversary of this blog! Here's all the main MTXT couples to celebrate.

[stardynamite]

While rewatching ducktales, I realised that they looove foreshadowing, they do it all the time, sometimes they even give the whole plot of an episode in the very first scenes without the viewer noticing lol.

Anyway, I realised that they foreshadowed the whole “duke of making a mess” thing that Huey had in the sword of swanstantine episode!

THE THING IS, EVEN on my first watch, I could tell that this was supposed to be a multiple episode arc but they HAD to make it shorter because ducktales was getting cancelled and I’m PISSED. LIKE ALL OF MY FAVOURITE CARTOONS, THIS COULD HAVE BEEN SO MUCH MORE.

DEWEY had his own arc where he’s trying to uncover his mom’s dissaperance with Webby. LOUIE had his own arc where he was struggling with his place in the family and HUEY. DIDN’T.

Ughhh they foreshadowed the Duke of making a mess in the intern episode and even in Scrooge’s birthday!!

Those are BOTH season 1 episodes (I’m not gonna list more foreshadowing because you get my point) SO THEY’VE BEEN BUILDING UP THIS ARC SINCE THE BEGINNING AND THEY DIDNT GET TO CASH IT INNNNN RAHHHHHH 🗣️‼️‼️‼️‼️

When watching the ONE episode where he appears, you could IMMEDIATELY tell that it should’ve been a bigger deal. I mean come onnnn, they enter Huey’s mind scape and there’s a huge closed up door??? With locks??? DUUUDE THAT WOULD’VE BEEN AWESOMMMMEEE

I’m saying all of this but this is just to vent some frustration about how animation shows will just be cancelled without the chance to say all that they’ve wanted to say… and as the one who wants to hear it: *cries and wails and pees on the floor*

Ducktales was planning so many more seasons and only got 3, like every other great animation show nowadays i fear

[bylrndgm]

JULIE AND THE PHANTOMS (2020) // JULIE E OS FANTASMAS (2011) 1.01 - Wake Up // 1.01 - Enfrentando Fantasmas -> Julie meets the Band.

[waterlinkedgirl]

Musical Touken Ranbu: Michinooku ~ Hitotsu Hachisu (Michinooku ~ A Single Lotus)

Here we go! Only a few days after the archive release and toumyu's ninth anniversary (congratulations!)

Michioku, or Michihasu, is a myu I have many conflicting feelings about, both positive and negative. However, I do believe that with the right amount of care in the next Mika-related story myu, the negative can still be cleared. Plus, I'm glad about a lot of things being re-established. The writer does need to step up her game a little on the plot-writing side of things, as well as the understanding-and-respecting-past-myu side of things, but as long as she does, this can still be given a proper place within what was already established.

Keep in mind that these are only the subtitle files, timed and tled to the DMM senshuuraku and the bluray respectively. The archive version will have a talk at the start, so the starting times of the subs will have to be delayed accordingly.

You can find the subtitles and my TL notes document here!

[skrunksthatwunk]

other half

redraw screenshots taken from this post i made a while back ignore that i forgot to actually link it for like an entire day

[arcanegifs]

[swordmaid]

i am wide awake thinking about that post canon jb au again when I should be sleeping …!!! such is the nature of the jbrainrot…

[57sfinest]

calling harry a “can opener” was SUCH a good play for so many reasons i think about it every day.

in the context of his work, it makes him a tool. as many people have pointed out, including martin luiga, part of the hdb tragedy is that he simply cannot leave the force, and his superiors know that and are using it to their advantage. no matter what happens, even if harry hated every nanosecond of every bit of the work and wanted to leave, he can’t and won’t leave. they can leverage anything they want against him and then reel him back in with a facade of kindness when they “allow” him to keep his job, as long as he does what they want him to. the 41st knows he has this inexplicable talent with people and they use him for it. he’s a cop: that talent can be used in so many awful ways, to push so many different agendas. and they won’t even be his own. a can opener has no particular desire to open a can, aside from maybe the satisfaction of fulfilling a purpose. a can opener has no agency, it’s just a tool for someone else to use to get what they want. and he’s learned to be okay with being used as long as it means he gets to stay. his complacency with this system makes him guilty even if he’s also being harmed by it.

but in the context of his personal life you kind of... flip it. the people around him are going to be opened up whether they want to be or not, and it’s terrible for his relationships. it’s shown that the questions, the prying- the can-opening- it’s become inextricable from who he is as a person. it’s like he doesn’t know how else to communicate, except it’s hardly communication when you’re just ripping people open. he’s invasive as all hell, although whether he means to be is debatable. he’s the kind of person that wants to take things apart to see what makes them tick. he dissects people, but really that’s too delicate of a word for what he does; if he doesn’t get what he wants right up front, he’ll abandon all subtlety and go for brute force. if he can’t get your screws loose he’ll just smash you on the ground and pick through your pieces until he’s satisfied, and if what he did to you isn’t fixable? oh well, there are other cans to open. 

and he’ll use it for personal gain: we already know he is (was?) manipulative. once he knows how you operate, he knows how to make you keep him. he can yell or he can cry; he can threaten you or he can threaten himself; he can be completely suffocating or he can withdraw completely; he can be an incorrigible liar or brutally honest; he can present himself as a threat or a joke or a talent. he’s a chimera- that’s why he’s got this inexplicable magnetism, even when people know they shouldn’t like or trust him. fidelity of character means nothing to him. he’ll be whatever he needs to be as long as it gets him what he wants. the can-opening is just his way in.

[mioakem]

just ended my year long relationship over an argument abt reproductive freedoms, i truly had no idea he lacked so much empathy towards me. it was one of the most difficult things i’ve ever done but i value my pride much higher than ill ever value any boy

[reiney-weather]

my heart in the dimly lit aisle

Heyyyy so I just got around to drawing one of my absolute favorites from @nextsoundofthefuture !!! bright <333 followers expect more and also read the comic because it’s so good. firmly gripping my brain also

[purpleandstarlight]

Hua Cheng about those ""losers"" who fall in love with someone and then don't end up becoming so obsessed with them that they fight for them, die for them, become a ghost king for them and spend 800+ years of their immortal life simping for them despite barely talking with said person during those 800+ years:

[winesharksea]

i think it's important that kit appears to straight up not know how to have a genuine conversation with someone. and a lot of that has to do with how he was raised, isolated with nobody really asking for his input or opinions, but for most of tda even when he's speaking to somebody he's rarely actually sharing his thoughts. and on top of that he's SUCH a people pleasing character, like beyond the initial snark he pretty much goes along with whatever people want or expect from him just for their attention or to make them happy. and on top of THAT, i think that tda is probably his first experience as like... a person among equals? i don't think it really occurs to him that the things he does or doesn't do impact other people because that's never been the case before, and obviously it leads to disaster but like i think he still just does not understand that his decisions affect people because he feels irrelevant and out of place among them. he can't feel accountable for the ways his choices affect other people because he just does not understand that he has the ability to affect people at all.

and like on ty's side i think even before the resurrection attempt he's very given to self blame, like when livvy gets hurt at the shadow market and he immediately blames himself for the injury. he feels an immense amount of responsibility to both livvy and to the rest of his family, and so many of his actions post-tda are rooted in this idea that he needs to do penance for the failed spell. (and here i'm also going to blame magnus a little for being really unnecessarily harsh at the end of tda when from everything preceding kit is literally just fleeing the country out of embarrassment and not really anger.) but he doesn't blame kit for lying to him or randomly dropping a love confession at him at possibly THE most inopportune time, he immediately put that back on himself and blames himself for being the reason kit left. there's also a lot to be said here about processing the world as an autistic person among an insular society of people who don't have the vocabulary or information to help you even when they want and try to, and how that affects the way you see your relationships with other people. ty doesn't blame kit for lying or running away because it does not occur to him that the fault lies with anyone but himself.

(also now i'm going to blame ragnor a LOT because listen if i was a 15 year old and traumatically lost someone i cared about i would probably not be making A+ decisions either but this man is a whole adult and also said not one word to anybody in a position to stop them or at least keep an eye on them)

so like at the end of the day i feel like so much of tda is about characters being so caught up in their own spirals of shame or self-doubt or pain that they don't notice what's happening to the people around them until it's already happened, and that even the people who love you will not always do it perfectly or even well, but as for these two hopefully that's the character growth we'll see in twp- kit now having a baseline of familial love, being an older brother, and finding self-worth to the point where he can hold himself accountable for the things he does and recognize his responsibility to other people, and ty growing in confidence and trusting himself enough to realize he doesn't have to punish himself or shoulder so much blame and that he can acknowledge when other people have not done right by him.

[spotaus]

New Age AU (The Camp)

Hello and welcome back to another New Age drabble! As always, fuck it we ball, no editing or rereading! This one is fresh off the press!

And!! Hello to @ancha-aus @papiliovolens and @mutzelputz ! Hope y'all enjoy!

Things had been looking up.

   Now, the bar for what was 'better' was set pretty low, but this time, right now, managed to reach it.

   Shortly after the collapse of his former kingdom, Cross had known there was no way he could ever show his face there again. His closest friends were dead, his brother was trying to rebuild things from the ground up, and his presence would only hinder them. If he, the king's loyal dog, stayed? It'd cause he'll to break loose.

   So he left. Alone. In the night. Nowhere to go but anywhere better than there.

   He walked.

   And walked, and walked, and walked, until he came across a town where he could find a place to sleep, a spot to eat, and to find out what the hell he'd do next.

   He had almost hoped that no one would recognize him in the neighboring kingdom. That he'd get off scot-free, but they knew. He was too focused, too quick to draw his blade, too alert.

   He unsettled the patrons at the inn, he was too efficient for the dock work, and the shops wouldn't have him keeping his sword on his hip. He refused to be without it.

   And so within a few months he'd exhausted his resources and had to move on.

   But. Just before he boarded the ship that would set sail for some new dock, he had been rushed into by a wirey, tiny skeleton. Knocked clean off his feet and almost directly into the lapping sea below the docks.

   Cross was not easily placed off-balance. The skeleton was stronger than he looked.

   And he looked... really nice.

   Cross, as he stood his ground, found that the skeleton paused to stare at him. Big, colorful eyelight filled crescent sockets which squinted in delight. A big smile reached the corners of his eyes, and a huge smudge of some darkness patterned his cheek, breaking up the pure while bone of his skull.

   Cross hadn't seen another skeleton monster in ages, aside from his brother. Especially not one with as much expression as this one. Dressed head to toe in colorful fabric sashes and pouches and bags, every one with a new vibrant color. It must've been expensive to-

   And then he'd spotted that this ethereal skeleton had a familiar pouch in-hand. A pouch with a hand-embroidered "X" on it. His coin purse.

   The moment he'd seen it, it seemed the skeleton had noticed, because he practically rocketed off the dock. Cross had followed without a thought. That was his pouch! One if the few things that were ever his. He needed that back, boat be damned.

  

   And so Cross had chased this mysterious skeleton all about town, not losing his track for long when the other managed to slip away.

   It felt like the worst game of cat and mouse he'd ever been a part of. But, it was somewhere outside if town that the skeleton led him to. He wasn't even out of breath when he came to the clearing just off the path. The skeleton had been out of his sight for twenty minutes, but his transportation magic was pungent. Cross knew exactly where he'd gone.

   And he'd found him.

   Grabbed him by one of his scarves abd snatched his pouch back. It was empty, but that was fine. Most of his gold was inside his armor anyhow.

   But before he left, the skeleton had laughed. Had said he was impressed he'd been followed. Wondered what he was doing setting sail on that dingey of a ship before. Cross hadn't intended to sit down, he hadn't wanted to. After all, this guy had stolen from him.

   Yet, the skeleton mentioned he might have work for a soldier like Cross. Paying work. Work that would have him moving about. Away from whatever he was running from.

   And Cross had sat. And asked about the work. And Ink had introduced himself.

   Ink was an assassin for hire, something which had made Cross grimace and almost leave once more, but Ink swore Cross wouldn't be expected to kill anyone. Just... make sure no one killed Ink while he was moving from job to job. A bodyguard of sorts, just until his name was off the radar again.

   He promised gold, and food, and respect. People knew him everywhere he went, a sort of folk hero (though that wasn't what he'd said) and so Cross wouldn't be as judged for his past.

   It had been an easy sell. Scam or not.

   Cross had some things to get used to. The first being that Ink had no soul. He hadn't noticed it because the other was draped in magical items, but Ink was entirely soulless. Along with that, he had an awful memory.

   To work around it, Cross had taken one of Ink's scarves to replace his bandana that was destroyed in a fight. The familiar item seemed to keep Ink from getting spooked by Cross. It was almost familiar to Cross, how to Ink he was no different than one if Ink's other cloth-wrapped belongings.

   And it was two years, traveling with Ink. Helping him keep on track for his kills, keeping folks from trying to ambush him. Fighting local city guards attempting to arrest them.

   It was a life on the run, but it was better than being dogged in his own hometown, missing his friends and family. Some shadow of a fallen king.

   But, now, things were looking up.

   Ink had said he was going to be going dark for a bit. To help an old friend. One who Cross might like.

   One who was setting up a rebellion against the evil tyrant who'd taken over his home kingdom in order to defend his peoples. A righteous warrior.

   Cross had to admit, the closer they drew towards the encampment, the more excited he became. He wasn't able to help in the last coup he lived through. Maybe he could be of help during this one.

.

.

   The chattering and happy voices weren't what Cross had expected upon finally reaching the end of the game trail. Ink had insisted there was no main road to the encampment, and that they had to use the secret entrance, which consisted of a thin trail that wove between all sorts of flora and snagged at his fraying uniform.

   When they'd emerged, Cross had certainly not expected to find himself standing before a beautiful flower garden.

   It was a landscaped space reminiscent of the gardens back at the palace. It was smaller, obviously, with less variety, but the first step onto the rocky path which led towards the back of a meager cottage made his heart skip a beat.

   The colors were to plentiful, and a butterfly flitted past him in a way that completely had him enamored. It was thanks to muscle memory that he didn't freeze up completely to admire the flawless plants in more detail.

   Instead, he soon found himself up a set of wooden steps, just behind Ink, hand on his swords hilt in preparation.

   Ink knocked on the door.

   It sounded thin, and Cross wondered just how old this building was. Colorful curtains drawn over the windows gave an impression of a fresh life to a building which clearly was on its last leg. The ground creaked under the slightest shift of weight.

   The door swung open.

   His focus was entirely absorbed by the person on the other side of the door. Another skeleton.

   Of course, Ink was shorter than Cross, but this new skeleton was shorter than Ink. He had bright blue eyelights and was wearing what Cross could only recognize as training armor. Old iron scraped up in battle and worn more casually when a soldier was among allies. It was adorned in shades of blue and yellow heavy fabric, and Cross was a little amazed that the little guy wasn't dying in the summer heat right about now.

   "Oh, Ink!" The skeleton inside greeted. "You're... actually right on schedule! That's unheard of for you." He seemed to look over his shoulder a moment.

   Cross followed his gaze, catching a slight view into the inner portion of the cottage. It seemed warm, and decorated, and homey. Too messy for his tastes just at a glance, but he had to imagine it was cozy for those who lived inside.

   "You can thank Cross for that one. He's been keeping me on-schedule for..." Ink trailed off at that, reaching a hand back to knock his knuckles against Cross's padded tunic, just over the center of his ribs.

   "Just barely two years now." Cross supplied meekly, focusing on Blue, "It's a pleasure to meet you."

   Blue seemed to perk up at Cross' words, and nodded a bit.

   "Right! Yes, forgive me, I am Blue." The skeleton, Blue, supplied with a grin. "It's a pleasure to meet you as well, Cross."

   Then, after a moment, he peaked it head back inside to look at something beyond the door, then looked back out to the pair. He was clearly guarding the threshold.

   "If you wouldn't mind waiting out on the front veranda? Dream and I will coke to meet you and guide you to the planning tent." Blue requested, and gestured to the left.

   Cross could only imagine the porch wrapped around to the front, and he nodded in agreement as Ink shot off in that direction without a warning.

  

   Blue shut the door, and Cross took his time walking around the side of the old cottage.

   Dream.

   That was the name of the person leading this revolution. Cross was eager to hear more, solely because Ink didn't always have his facts straight. His memory made it more likely that he was making things up to fill the gaps than anything else.

   He'd made this Dream guy sound like a saint, and frankly Cross didn't believe it. Kingdoms can be bad, but the things Ink was saying sounded cartoonish. Blood sacrifice and godlike power? No way was any of that right. He needed to meet this guy and hear what sort of real threats this tyrant posed, and hear how Dream planned on going about claiming power.

   Cross had seen a plan like this go poorly before. He didn't plan to let another one happen on his watch.

  

   As he turned the corner, he was greeted with a shocking sight.

   Not far past the front fence of the cottage, was a large clearing with a river running through it. Dotted around the edges of the grassy clearing were all sorts of large canvas tents. Ones that reminded him a bit too much of a battle encampment.

   Only, the tents were strung up with colorful flags atop, banners of what had to be the Royal insignia of the kingdom in gold and purple, and, most strikingly, that was where those sounds of joy had been coming from.

   People were talking, there was a dirt patch in the center of the place where it seemed there were people training, others cheering them on. The scent of warm food wafted past him and made his mouth water. Just from a distance, it seemed like a little sanctuary. Hidden away on the outskirts of a kingdom.

   When he finally reached Ink's side, the other had hoisted himself to sit on a low-bearing railing that circled the porch. It barely seemed to hold his weight, but he coukd care less. He seemed content to kick his feet and watch the people out in the main area.

   Cross remained vigilant (then again, when didn't he?) and was quick to turn when the front door behind them eventually swung open with a heavy creaking noise.

   There, trailing Blue out of the front door, was a radiant skeleton.

   His magic alone felt like a warm breeze had passed a summer path and let flower petals gently drift by to make a scenic masterpiece. It was unlike anything Cross had ever felt, and he tried not to look dumbfounded when the skeleton's eyelights skimmed up and over the scene before him.

   "Dream!" It was Ink who practically stunt-fell backwards from his perch and rushed over to the skeleton's side without so much as a stumble.

   Cross didn't need to see his eyelights to know they were probably both a bright, striking color. His excitement was evident.

   "Ink, it's good to see you again!" Dream greeted, and to Cross' utter surprise, he reached out and pulled Ink into a quick hug. "I heard from Blue that you brought a reliable friend?" He pulled away just as quickly as he'd tugged Ink in, but he seemed to watch Ink closely with caring eyelights. A soft yellow.

   Ink seemed to take a moment to process, before he gave a single nod and whipped around. In just a moment he bounced off of Cross's side and nudged him for emphasis.

   "Right, this is Cross! He's been helping me, but I thought he'd help a lot with that job you needed done!" Ink introduced, and Cross gave a half-bow. He just hardly kept hinself from saluting in his old fashion.

   Dream finally took a moment to look at Cross as the door to the cottage finally clicked shut on its own behind him.

   It took a moment, before Dream smiled gently at him.

   "Cross, it's a pleasure to meet you, truly." He greeted, reaching out a hand. Cross took it without thinking, shaking it firmly. "I am Prince Dream, and this is my knight, Blue." He added on.

   Suddenly, Cross wished he hadn't accepted that handshake. A prince? Ink hadn't mentioned anything about Dream being royalty?? Surely he'd have been on better behavior if he'd known!

   Dream released his hand, but gave him little time to devolve into panic, and he raised both hands placatingly.

   "Please, don't fret." He asked, "I can see you are not from this kingdom and you don't know the plight we face."

   It was a nice tone. An understanding one, which gave Cross a moment to breathe and think better of dropping to his knees for forgiveness.

   Dream continued, "Undoubtedly you are a brave soul, and a strong one as well. If you truly are interested in assisting us in this fight, I can explain more to you in a moment," He paused, "Though, you have a burden on your shoulders, even so young. Where do you come from?"

   Something about the question was so gentle. So... genuine.

   Cross faltered a bit, "I-" A breath. "I come from the fallen kingdom of Ritten. A high guard, disgraced once the castle fell." He admitted, trying to will his throat to not grow tight in shame.

   "And, may I ask, what brought you to this place?" Dream prodded gentle.

   "My family suffered because I was not strong enough to fight against the oppressive might of my king. I ran away, and now cannot help them." He'd thought hard and long about this. Where he'd gone wrong. Every night for the past two years. "I thought that, perhaps, I might save someone else from the pain of an unhonest rule. At least, based on the picture Ink painted for me of your cause."

   There was a moment of quiet.

   "Mm, I don't remember painting anything of Dream yet though, Cross." Ink chimed in.

   The tension felt broken and Dream's tense, serene aura burst into one of fondness and he turned to giggle at Ink. Blue, behind him, sighed.

   "Figure of speech, my friend." Dream clarified to Ink, before returning focus to, a frankly startled, Cross. "It seems you're passionate. I cannot promise that helping my people will fill that gap on your soul, but I can swear that you will be doing good for them." Dream assured, and Cross couldn't help but agree.

.

   From there, Dream, Cross, Blue, and Ink crossed the lawn. Dream was greeted excitedly by every person they passed, abd Blue helpfully held open a flap to a particularly small canvas tent. One whose walls seemed to block out all the noise from outside, and which most likely prevented any eavesdropping from outside in.

   The four of them settled around a table, Cross sat across from Dream, Ink and Blue facing eachother.

   The table was strewn with a single map, and that map was covered in all sorts of pins and charcoal scratches. Clearly a planning guide.

   Along routes, there were several red X's.

   "Cross, how familiar are you with this kingdom?" Dream asked him as he examined the spread before him.

   "...Admittedly, I don't know anything at all aside from what Ink has told me. We just arrived two days ago." He said.

   Dream nodded as Blue chimed in that Ink was 'unreliable at best'.

   "Then I shall start from what I know." Dream said softly.

   "I am the crown prince of this place. I was raised alongside my twin in the Wooded Castle." He began, and Cross was already a bit surprised. Twins? For monsters, having twins was practically impossible. It was unsafe, and deadly... "We were inseparable. I was to one day claim the throne, and he was to be my closest confidant. My advisor. We had always been thrilled by our coming futures. I was to be crowned and gifted our familial magic on our 13th birthday."

   There was a deep, deep sorrow that suddenly seemed to overtake Dream's face. Blue slumped a bit in his own seat as they both seemed to have their eyelights glued to Dream.

   "Just months before our celebration, Nightmare became paranoid and distant. He told me that if I went through with the ceremony that something bad would happen. I'm not sure who placed this idea in his head, as I had been trained from a young age to withstand and control the power. A birthright handed on from my mother's father to my mother, and from my mother to me." He explained, "He did not listen to me, did not trust me."

   A miniscule flinch of Dream's shoulders. "During the ceremony, as I was presented with my birthright. An apple, meant to pass on my mother's life energy as well as untold power. My brother rushed up and snatched it from my hands. Consumed the fruit, and was changed by its overwhelming force. He did not inheret the full power, nor was he the same after it washed him in a dark and potent magic." Cross was uncertain. Anxious. What kind of kingdom was this? "Shortly after he took the crown, he... he cast me out. Banished me to a neighboring kingdom."

   Dream seemed to take a deep breath. "Since that day, my people have been suffering. Someone or something is in my poor brother's head, whispering horrible lies to him. I was unable to help him when we were young, and it has led to the horrible state of our kingdom. He is using the power granted by our ancestors to flood the people's crops and to destroy their sources of income. The people cannot survive this way much longer. I need to liberate my twin from those who are twisting his mind. So I may reason with him and help guide him back towards the truth."

   Cross was taken aback.

   Dream literally had an evil twin, and was meant to take the throne.

   "There have been many attempts to gain information on the king's whereabouts, but anyone the smaller rebel groups have sent have never made it back." Blue took over the story. "Dream has been searching for a person strong enough to infiltrate the castle to bring us back direct information. We are blind aside from the word of the people."

   And the dots fell into place. Cross would be this spy, if he agreed on taking this job.

   The others seemed to sense his hesitancy.

   "You can back out this moment if you like, no hard feelings." Dream had added hurriedly, "I am aware that our circumstances are looming for an outsider, and it is a lot to ask of a stranger."

   It was sincere, but Cross knew himself too well. He was in too deep the moment Ink had told him of Dream's plight. There was no way he would turn down this fight.

   "I... want to help you. What else do I need to know?" He replied simply.

   The room seemed to fill with a sort of relief at his admission.

   It seemed to take Dream a moment to collect his thoughts, before he gestured to Blue. The Knight was already out of his seat and rushing out of the tent. Cross figured this meant they were getting serious.

   "My first rule," Dream stated, "Please, for your own safety, avoid facing my twin at all costs." That was... a strange one. "I would fear for his death at your hands, as I truly don't wish to see him dead. Only, he is too powerful for even an army of men to face, let alone one skilled warrior. It would be your death, and I do not wish to send you to the gallows."

   Then Dream sighed, "I have had Ink searching for a worthy candidate for this mission. I would send him, but I fear he would forget his goal and attempt to assassinate my twin. And be killed in the process."

   Cross gave a nod.

   "The second thing to know, is to avoid the Knights. They always wear masks, visages of big cats from across the realm. As far as we are aware, there are three of them. A tiger, a lion, and a black panther." He informed, brow furrowed, "You are not from this area, but I can tell you that the masks are a tradition of our heritage. They are only given to those whom royal blood deem as their most trusted. The masked monsters cannot be trusted, and when together, cannot be faced alone."

  

   Cross hardly had a moment to place the information into his mind before Dream seemed to jolt, "The panther is the strongest of them magically. The lion the strongest. If you come across them on your own, please, just flee with what you've found. All of these people are criminals and vagrants, the lowest of the low. Hostile and dangerous." He reiterated, until he gained another nod from Cross.

   That was when Blue entered the tent once again, his arms filled with maps and scrolls and... was that armor?

   "We have reason to believe that the power in the castle does not keep a close eye on their guard. The plan would be for you to slip in among a grouping of new recruits and investigate further once you are dismissed from your first round of duties." Dream explained.

   Cross figured that could work. He was already a soldier, always had been one, so he wouldn't have to employ his terrible acting skills.

   There was only one thing eating at him.

   "And... what will I be searching for while I'm there?" He asked boldly.

   That was when, almost like a cue, Blue set a scroll before him. It seemed to be a list of locations, people, and imports and exports.

   "That is a list of all the things in which Nightmare has destroyed in the past year. All the locations and people affected by his wayward deeds." Dream explained, "I ask of you to listen, and find word of where his next area of disaster is planned to be. That way Blue, myself, Ink, and the others might intercept his Knights before they cause more harm to my people."

   Okay. Just information.

   Cross almost wondered if it was fate which brought him here, to sit before the radiant prince and his loyal followers.

   He'd eavesdropped on his father and spoken with his siblings enough to understand exactly what Dream was hoping he'd find. Plans, schemes, people even thinking of slandering this king who he could crush under his boot.

   This list was full of names and towns, written in a gentle cursive script, no doubt written by hand by Dream. Like there was a mourning etched into every stroke of the quill.

   "Alright. I'll do it." Cross confirmed, though mostly to himself. Then, "When do I set off?"

[bubonickitten]

I truly, desperately need the Democratic party to focus at LEAST as much on the undecided progressive as on the undecided right-leaning moderate.

If you really want to earn the votes of undecided people, or--perhaps more importantly--inspire a young generation of first-time voters to vote for you, you HAVE to fucking talk to them and meet them where they are, and then prove to them that you've got their backs.

Like, yes, I'm voting for the Democratic candidate either way because the electoral college two-party system precludes viable alternatives. But forget the discourse about voting, not voting, voting third party, etc. for a minute and just acknowledge the fact that there are going to be people who are not going to change their minds if all you can give them is "not as bad as the other guy." Just, speaking purely in terms of pragmatism and sustainability, "not as bad as the other guy" is a dead end for a large percentage of voters, like it or not. Democrats have got to do better than that if they want to genuinely improve their chances of beating the other guy -- in this election and every other.

(ETA: I should probably clarify that I also don't like or trust the Democratic party, for the record, and this isn't me white knighting on their behalf. I'm just saying if they actually want to court progressive voters, they have to stop being... you know. Like this.)

[north-wilkesboro-moonshine-cave]

congratulations to Mme. Pascale Leclerc, who has surely just experienced both the funniest and most unhinged weekend a mother could ever have. Dear fucking christ, I hope your middlest son brought you a bottle of champagne for yourself, ma'am.