#I had to nerd out about it

[tree-dragon]

Fiddlestick Analysis

Disclaimer: I know like nothing about league of legends. My friend sent me Fiddlestick’s song and I listened to it almost exclusively for weeks and couldn’t help analyzing it based on the very very little I know.

Atmosphere

     The entirety of the music from the background to the foreground is meant to instill a certain fear into you.

     Right from the beginning the song is introduced with a vibrating violin, which typically signifies some hair-raising anxiety. Throughout the song it remains in the background, ebbing and flowing to create an atmosphere as if to say there is something out there. You may not know what it is or have some definitive reasoning on why you think there is something, but it is there. That something is, of course, Fiddlesticks.

     To continue with the atmosphere, the notes themselves are off beat. Not in that they are on the 1 and 3 count of a 4 count beat, but as in they are either on the forefront or backfoot of the beat we are typically used to. Still technically hitting the timing, but dragging or pushing the time to give a sense of urgency and dread. The only time the foreground music does not give this sense is when the kid is singing since they have yet to take this fear to heart. 

     At the turning point of the song, all music stops for a beat. Almost every horror movie holds a suddenly silent moment in anticipation of what is to come. The song plays right into this gives an abrupt stop after building anticipation and tension with the lyrics. But even the silence only lasts for a moment. Ever so faintly there are descending screeching high notes like something is stepping ever so closer to you until it leaps in a crash of music.

     After the turning point is when Fiddlesticks is actually present. I am unsure of the instrument but there is the growling of Fiddlesticks directly in your ear as they hunt and trap you in its fear. 

Lyrics

     This entire song is a Mother trying to teach her child about the danger of Fiddlesticks, maybe from a past experience or some other person’s encounter. She begins telling her child the warning signs, trying to prompt them to repeat back what she has told them many times in the past, and in fact, they do join her as she drops off to prompt the child into continuing on their own. She begins the first lines in the differing sections (after a repeated set of words) and eventually the child joins in. The repeat differs. The first one the child sings the last line by themselves as if the mother wants them to know the signs by heart, making sure they know it without her continuing. The second repeat the mother continues by herself. She is begging her child to hide. The crows of Fiddlestick are already in the sky and it is too dangerous for anyone to be out, so the best bet is to hide. She even pauses after “Hide” as if bracing herself to continue and gives a gasping “now” to finish.

     Breaking up the verses, the mother and child to a humming back and forth. The mother is literally showing the child one way to stay calm, to calm their fears so the literal fear demon couldn’t feed off of them. 

     Eventually the child gets the lyrics in the second verse. This is probably after numerous repeats from the mother. The mother even reaffirms the child’s “Stay down” on the repeat with a minor lilt in her voice with unusual pausing suggesting she knows she cannot do anything else to save her child except for this warning. 

     The child continues with minimal input from the mother, who even when also singing, is the harmony and is fainter than in previous points suggesting the child is only remembering her voice. This is supported by how the child continues to hum along with the increase in chilling music following them. They are walking along alone, trying to keep the fear at bay with the little hum their mother taught them as Fiddlesticks stalks them.

The Tornado

     The song describes a tornado dead on except for the crows (which, sidenote, are incredible mimics. Like dead on mimics hence why Fiddlestick is an incredibly good mimic).

     “When fields lie calm and wind stands still” - tornado sign: a complete stillness before or after a thunderstorm.

     “As crows make night of the fading sun” - tornados happen typically during some storm. Good luck seeing the sun then, biotch.

     “When the trees do bow, as if they weep” - Tornado winds go woosh real hard. Trees are resilient mofos. Ever see one in a tornado or hurricane? They be parellel to the ground and survive just fine.

     “Through its light beacons forth” - tornado sign is the sky changing color.

     “A melody calls out” - Not really a melody but a dang freight train sound is typical with a tornado.

[gravitycoill]

lil comic i’ve had in my head for a bit

[paintedcrows]

Holiday Classics

Been thinking about Ford watching the 70s Animated Lord of the Rings Movies... (companion comic to this post!)

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

Lap Pillow

[First] Prev <–-> Next

[mayxo-hxh]

Illumi having an ace of clubs when he comes out disguised as Hisoka instead of ace of spades...

Ace of Spades symbolizing power, success, & death aka hiso.. Ace of Clubs symbolizing good fortune, luck, or success and is considered a positive card if you're "stuck in your current situation" aka hiso when he couldnt leave the hideout. illu was his fortune, luck and success...

[s0lairee]

god i love hush i need to bite his arm off

[drawnfamiliarfaces]

I love this AU so much but I do have to ask, where is Howard? How does he feel about Randy hanging out and going on missions with other heroes?

... ok but this is a bit of a complicated answer, considering...

In Present (Comic) Time, Howard is currently, uh indisposed? 😰

But lol, yeah I get what you mean, so let's just answer in general: Howard is Randy's best friend and he will be by his side as soon as current Randy 'problem' gets resolved. But Howard is also not as into the hero stuff as much as Randy, and that's what I like about him.

Howard would not be eager to go on missions like Randy, and while yes it will probably be a cause for some jealousy that Randy's gonna hang out with other heroes - you have to keep in mind that in HoM AU they are both a bit older, so the jealousy will be much more managable. Because at the end of the day, they are still best friends, no matter how many new cool friends either of them meet.

Not to mention, who is to say that Howard won't hang out with them as well?? xD (I just never drew it, because uuuuh plot reasons) Also not to mention the other characters that are in the same best friends/support role for other heroes! He will totally call them losers, but will still eagerly join their super secret chat group so he can share/learn some funny dirt about their respective hero friends. xD

[psychomusic]

oc time again! + her town & culture (heavily inspired by pre-roman italic populations)

she is suri sauthon. her story is linked to my swtor imperial agent, tar'x, but most of her life except for the one year away where she meets him, is spent in a town in the mountains of mirial.

despite mirial being cold and desert, and many cities developing underground, her town flourishes thanks to a force nexus, venerated in the form of an ancient, sacred, alive crystal. the ecosystem of that mountain depended on what "the horned crystal" was capable of giving them, but mirialans couldn't live off of that alone, so they developed trade and some rudimental technology, even if oftentimes it was bought thanks to the highly profitable trade of a plant used to make medicines that slowed down aging and had overall healing properties.

note: everything that's generated by this nexus has these healing properties BUT they have to be processed, except for those who bathed in the waters of the cavity under the crystal - the "real" nexus, but not the worshipped one. the waters were sacred but they were not thought to be miraculous, unlike the crystal, who instead was thought of as the keystone of the ecosystem: without it, everything would fall apart (and that is partially true: the cavity was the "real" nexus but thanks to the crystal, also strong in the force, the properties were spread all over the mountains). those who bathed in the cavity's waters - so, all of the town, who had a sort of baptism there - could eat the plant, make whatever food with it, and not only that plant, but everything generated by the nexus, that, again, had similar properties. this allowed people to live up to normal life-spans without advanced medicines or, much, really. to those who didn't live there, though, after the processing, had incredible effects, slowing down aging - for those who took it regularly - and making people able to live up to half a century more than the average]

originally, there were four tribes of nomads that lived thanks to horned farm animals that decided to settle down into one bigger town and other smaller settlements, to live off of transhumance. this division of the tribes stayed into the political and social organization: every person belonged to one tribe specifically, and had slightly different rituals and culture. for examples, each tribe had their own priests and healers, with different techniques and traditions. the town, tho, was guided by a group of people in the high priesthood, a position you could reach only by having earned the trust of all tribes. those high priests had many roles: they guided the people into sacred processions common to all the tribes, they managed the trading with outsiders, they did the maintenance of the temple of the summit (the one that functioned as casket to the crystal) and created a special liquid to offer the crystal that helps it grow.

this particular temple was important because 1. it was very visible, from every angle of the town, and it became an important identity symbol; 2. it stored the venerated horned crystal; 3. it had the altar where sacrifices were made for the crystals. that altar had a hole connected to the cavity, that allowed the liquids to reach the underground; 4. it had various symbols: statues representing each tribe + the high priesthood, and typical mirialan tattoos carved into the wood of the trees that served as columns for the temple, symbolizing 8 values that who dared to enter HAD to have; 5. it was on the way to an important lake (called "mother lake" because the lake the town was built around to depended on the waters of that other lake) where they traveled to in important processions; 6. it was said that a the wizard who unified the tribes made it with its magic, making the plant grow to hold the temple's roof. this wizard was, actually, a force user, obv.

BACK TO HER THOUGH: she's daughter of one of the high priests, who was in charge of managing the trades with outsiders, and lives in a house on the mountains with her mother and him. her parents are from different tribes (that's one of the things that earned him trust from the 4 tribes): when a child is born from two different tribes, they don't pick one to allign to, but they're usually linked automatically to the one with more relatives in it (in her case, the father's tribe: she had many uncles and aunts on his side while her mom only had one sister).

later, though, she got quite tied to her mother's tribe due to a mysterious illness that only her mother's tribe healer was able to cure. she spent 4 years (from 10 to 14 years old) living with the healer and learned her secrets. to better study, she wrote them down. when she returned home, she studied to become a priestess with her father. at 22 (the average age: you can't become priest before your 20s), she was supposed to take a test and become a priestess, but the healer of her mother's tribe died and the tribe asked her to take her place. she couldn't technically do that, but both tribes estimated both her and her parents and she was allowed to become both. she then decided to try to become a high priestess, and became one at 25 (a quite young age). being part of the council, she tried to convince the various tribe healers to unite their knowledges and write them down, and eventually made it. healers still remained tribe based but they now had an "upper, inter-tribe level" similar to high priesthood.

years later, the sacred horned crystal is stolen from the temple by some Hutt mercenaries looking for a profit. given the trust she has earned from all the tribes and the fact that her father is the high priest that deals with outsiders (and she's been hearing stories and advice about it since she was little), she is the one tasked with getting it back. without the growing crystal, the keystone to their ecosystem, the village would have lasted only a few years. in hrr quest, she meets imperial intelligence agent tar'x laran and, as they "solve the mystery" and fight to have it back, they get closer. they'll get married and have a daughter, Vegoia (who's the only one who actually will get to the plot of my story. this was all background)

[demonslayedher]

I finished posting the unabashedly educational Sword Fic.

It includes a detailed (but hopefully beginner-friendly) explanation of all the steps of making a Nichirin blade from a sunny mountain like Mt. Youkou, a touch of swordsmith and metalworker folk lore (including demons), meta about what must make Kimetsu no Yaiba's swordsmithing methods different from real life methods, some character exploration for Haganezuka and his polishing method, vocabulary and additional resources in the chapter notes, and hopefully, an endearing, silly POV character to learn this all through.

[ianthedebonair]

What would Wei say? (🔞choices below the cut)

➡️"So can you make multiple copies of me here?"

➡️"How about you make a bunch of other Damiens?"

*Links above lead to gratuitous, self-indulgent smut. Definitely not safe for work.

Behold, the fruit of the bashful Chen poll. It was meant to be a single pinup-like illustration, but one thing led to another (and with valuable inspiration from @ladyshivs and @extreme-neutral), it ended up as another choose your own smut 😌😌.

(Also, reblogs are disabled on the linked posts. So, if you’re planning to, reblog this one instead 🫣)

[notfreetoday]

My Personal Weatherman Ep 1 Subtitle Corrections

So I've been analysing the way MPW uses language to showcase the dynamic between Segasaki and Yoh - something that I suspect is not quite coming through with the English subs - and decided to watch Ep 1-3 again, with Eng subs this time. I am now going to complain about some of the subtitle and translation choices and edit them way too literally because I'm nerdy like that.

Disclaimer: Everyone translates differently for different audiences. This is not meant to disrespect the official translation team in any way because they are subbing for a more general audience and have different pressures, so don't come at me or them for our different priorities. I'm talking to the particular group of viewers who like this show and/or like Japanese and want to go a step further in interacting with the characters. That said, I'm happy to discuss MY translation choices so please feel free to drop in about any line.

Under cut because this GOT REALLY LONG.

I'm translating directly from the Jp, so sometimes my subs differ only slightly - I will lean towards a more literal translation here because that will allow me to explain my language analysis better in a follow up post so some phrasing may be awkward. Big changes/missing info have been italicised and bolded. Explanations of nuances/connotations have been added where I feel they add to the understanding of the character/scene, and the relevant phrase is marked with * in my translation and the Jp.

Ep 1

[S: だから、漫画つずけりゃいいじゃんって　衣食住の金は保証してやるから　おれんとこに来い。んで、その代わり　*俺の言うこと全部聞け]

Original: I said, just keep drawing manga. I’ll take care of your food and lodging *expenses, so come to my place. And in return, you’ll do everything I say.

Mine: I said, *it's fine (for you) to continue (being a) manga (artist). I'll take care of the expenses for your *food, clothing and lodging so, come (live) at my place. And, in exchange for that, (you must) *listen to everything I say.

*This whole paragraph is extremely blunt and direct. Every sentence is worded as an order, and this last line especially - the word "listen" is used here to mean "obey" - so this line really translates to, "in exchange for that, (I want you) to obey my every word". The reason it's not been translated this way is that it sounds so strong it borders on corny in English. In Jp though, the connotation of "obey" comes across not in the words but in the extremely strong/direct delivery of the line (contrasted with the extremely nonchalent tone), so it sounds more shocking/overbearing than it does corny. The original translation here works very well actually.

Technically Segasaki introduces himself here as 気象解説員 (weather forecaster) as opposed to 気象予報士 (meteorologist), but in the show's character bios, and when Man-san talks about him later, he's called a meteorologist anyway, so this difference is of absolutely no importance (I'm just anal like that). FYI, in Japan, all qualified meteorologists (who must pass a national exam) can be forecasters, but not all forecasters have this qualification.

[Y: 明日も雨…か*] Original: More rain tomorrow Mine: There'll be rain again tomorrow, huh? *Said with a falling tone, the "huh" here hints that Yoh is likely a little down/disappointed about the rain continuing, and lays the ground for his reaction later about the rainy season.

[M: 人を沼に召喚しといて　何なの？その態度 S: いや　むしろ　万さんがかなり能動的に突っ込んできた印象しかないんだけど M: ごちゃごちゃうるさい　ややこしいオタクめ S: ごめん　ややこしくて]

Original: M: Why summon someone into your otaku pit and act like that? Y: No, it’s more like you actively intrude into my life M: You’re being noisy and complicated, you complicated otaku Y: Sorry for being complicated…

Mine: M: (You’re the one who) dragged me into this fandom, (so) what’s with that attitude? Y: No, on the contrary, I have the distinct impression that it was you, Man-san, who pretty much jumped right in of your own volition M: (You’re) babbling nonsense (you) troublesome otaku Y: Sorry for being troublesome

[S: めし　なに？ Y: あ、しょーしょうがやき]

Original: S: What do you want for dinner? Y: Stir-fried ginger

Mine: S: What's for dinner? Y: Sho-shogayaki

Shogayaki is a style of cooking meat, usually pork, where you stir fry the meat with ginger. Unless the type of meat is specified, it refers to Pork Stir Fried with Ginger, or Ginger Pork Stir Fry. Very common home cooked dish.

[S: あ、そ] (A, so?) S: Oh, is that so?

"I see" is a totally ok translation too. "A, so" can mean "Oh I see" or "Oh is that right" or "Oh is that so" etcetc but it has the air of a really bored "Oh, really?/Sure/If you say so" This is why Yoh's reaction after this is "if you aren't interested then don't ask!". This is the first of many times that Segasaki will use this phrase, as we will see in the following episodes, so I'm highlighting it here for now.

No translation issues here - but I just want to point out that it's reeaaally difficult to make tasteless shogayaki hahaha If you've had ginger stir fried in anything you'll know - it's not a meek herb at all. Canonically, Yoh is apparently a really bad cook. This will be pointed out again later, when he makes curry, because again, it's gotta be some kind of talent to make bland japanese curry; it's r*eeeeaally *easy. Anyway, the sauce that Segasaki asks for here is Soy Sauce, which is different from the sauce that he asks for later! Seems like a few people think they're the same thing (also pay attention to the sauce rack position here - Yoh'll will move it closer to himself by their next dinner hahaha)

[Y: ちかいんだよ、いちいち*] Y: He (leans in) so close, every (damn) time*!

*Not sure if this comes across, but the word for "every time" here is usually associated with slight annoyance, but the way "close" is said here implies Yoh's a little bashful about it.

[Y: 雨、多いな*] (ame, ooi *na...) Y: Rain...so much of it*

*This has the same feel as the "there'll be rain again tomorrow...huh" that we first saw earlier this episode. The ending particle "~na" bakes in a sigh and a sense of disappointment here (if you didn't notice the utter depression on Yoh's face lol)

[S: めし、ま��？] S: Food's not ready yet?

See, you don't notice it with the Eng translations because even the most basic Eng grammar will form a complete sentence. In Jp though, Segasaki is once again taking "man of a few words" to the extreme. He has taken out every single part of the sentence he possibly can whilst still keeping it grammatically complete. So this line is literally just "Food, not yet?". He's done this throughout the episode btw - it's why he comes across as so cold/distant.

[Y: やっぱ　わかんねえよな] Mine: As I thought, he doesn't understand...

[Y: 結局　従ってしまう自分の従順さが憎い*] Original: I hate my obedience, always giving in Mine: In the end, the obedient part of me that always ends up following his orders - I hate* it

*the word used for "hate" here is "nikui" which is different from the word Yoh uses when he says he "hates (dai kirai)" Segasaki. "dai kirai" is simply the opposite of "dai suki" - to really like, so is more accurately "really dislike" than it is "hate" (even though it is frequently translated as such). "Nikui", which is much stronger word, bringing to mind the idea of a "strong rejection of/detest/disgust for" something.

If you didn't already know, the word "embrace" aka "抱く" here is a euphemism for "to sleep with (somebody).

Shoyu = Soy Sauce. Sauce = worcestershire sauce, unless you're in a tonkatsu shop. Then sauce = tonkatsu sauce (which is a slightly different variation). Don't look at me, I don't make the rules.

(This is very long but I'm going to write the whole monologue here)

[Y: 晴れ予報の度に抱かれて 晴れ　なんて単語は　暗いなかで湿っぽく行われる　それとは　ちぐはぐなイメージなのに。。。 まるでやらしい言葉みたいに　頭に刷り込まれていって わかってんのか？　あんたの口から　予報をきいて　どんな気持ちになるか わかんないんだろうな　一生考えもしないだろうな だってあんたは　恋人でもない俺に　平気でこんなことができる]

Original: Every time there’s a sunny forecast, he does it with me The word sunny feels out of place for such activity in a dark and damp room It’s as if it’s such a lewd word being forced into my mind Do you understand, how I feel when I hear that word from your mouth? You probably won’t understand or even think about it for your entire life You have no problem sleeping with someone you’re not even going out with

Mine: (He) embraces (me) every time the forecast is sunny A word like “sunny” … (brings up) a completely different image from that damp, humid activity taking place in the dark And yet (to me) it seems like a lewd, obscene word, searing (the image of) itself into my brain Do you understand? How exactly I feel when I hear the forecast from your mouth? You probably don't understand, do you? Probably won't ever think about it your entire life, right? Because you're able to do this with me, (someone)who isn't even your lover, without any issues at all

This line was ad-libbed btw, if you didn't already know (link leads to Kouhei's 16th Aug IG livestream, and his explanation starts around 07:20 mark) They've talked about this a few times on both their IG lives, and Kouhei seems to get prouder about it each time hahaha. In the linked IG, Kouhei said:

(reading a fan comment) "More" was an ad-lib?? I'm gonna die

Kouhei: Yea it was…ah that was…um, Mashiko-kun… Acchan (his nickname for Atsuki) gave me a really good expression so…somehow, (by the time) I realised (what I had done), yes, (by the time) I realised it,I had said it. Well probably saying "by the time I realised it" is weird but… yes. By the time I realised it... "even more"…(I'd wanted him) to open his mouth more so. Yes. That's all.

[S: そこそこ高給取りになる予定*だから] Original: I'm planning to *become a high earner Mine: It's likely* that I'm gonna be drawing a pretty decent salary so...

*The exact wording here is actually "(it has been) planned that (I will) become (someone) drawing a pretty decent salary so" - the way this is phrased indicates that this conversation probably happened in Segasaki's last year of university, probably right before he graduated when he already had a job lined up for himself. In Japan, your final year of university is spent interning at companies and if they like you, you'll stay on as a salaried worker, so most graduates will have something lined up before they officially leave university.

[Y: 流されるな] Y: Don't get swept away (by this) This phrase is usually used to warn people not to let themselves be swept away/caught up by the latest trends/public perception/societal expectations/their own emotions/panic etc Here, together with his insistence that he's just Segasaki's slave and so obeying him is a natural consequence, and so is sleeping with him (as opposed to Yoh doing it because he likes/wants to) - Yoh is basically telling himself "don't get swept away" by the situation/his feelings because their relationship doesn't mean anything.

[Y: じゃあ、しばらく…ないのか。*slaps face* しばらくしなくていいんだ！]

Original: So, it won't be happening, for a while huh? *slaps face* I'm fine without it for a while, right?

Mine: So then... there won't be... for a while, huh... *slaps face* (It should be) "I don't have to do it for a while!"

Again, you can see, Yoh's literally spent this entire episode trying to convince himself that he's not actually in love with Segasaki, and everything he does for Segasaki, be it listening to him, or sleeping with him etc, he does simply because he is fulfilling his end of the bargain as "a slave".

OMFG I FINISHED THAT WAS TOO DAMN LONG.

I will finish Ep 2 & 3 before I do the language analysis post. But first... I need a break....

[twilight-zoned-out]

Edwin Payne is a dweeb who gives terrible weak comebacks, who can be unnecessarily petty, or overly smug, who is inordinately pleased with himself when wearing detective gear and using scientific gear, the thought never crossing his mind that he might not look as cool as he thinks he does, who carries a continual and utter absolute delight at acting like the characters he loved to read about, who was enthralled by his magazine detective and adventure stories and who wears a similar smile when he sits on the bed watching Scooby Doo with Niko, 'these detectives are terribly clever,' whose board game collection is mostly variations of Clue, who requires payment (because any good detective is worth some kind of payment) but whose idea of payment is whatever interesting object the client offers to add to his collection, who has encyclopedic intelligence he clearly dedicated hours to learning, who has a particular way of acting and speaking like everything is of vital importance, because to him, it is.

[orderforbrian]

my personal hc is that martin forces jon to watch all of the films (extended version) like this:

[Start ID: 9 crudely drawn doodles of Jon and Martin from the Magnus Archives. Jon is a thin Persian man with shoulder length curly hair, a beard, and rectangular glasses. He's wearing a t shirt and sweatpants. Martin is a fat mixed Polish/Korean man with wavy hair kind of styled in a modern mullet. He's wearing browline glasses, a t shirt and sweatpants, and has a beauty mark under his lip. 1st image: Text says "Fellowship of the Ring (Extended Edition)" above Jon's head and he looks forward in horror. A line buzzes past him and cracks at the end, with the sound effect "glass shatters sfx". 2nd image: Jon attempts to get up but Martin's arm shoots in front of him. 3rd image: Close up of Martin from a downward angle, he looks down menancingly at Jon and says "Sit. Back. Down." You can see his breath as he says it. In the bottom corner, Jon has big dewy eyes that are pleading for mercy.

4th image: Martin is holding a crudely drawn gun to Jon's head as they sit on the sofa together, Martin has his other arm around Jon's shoulder and Jon looks mildly terrified and sweaty (mostly due to the impending film). 5th image: One half of Jon's face is shown, he apprehensively says "H-how long did you say this was...". 6th image: One half of Martin's face is shown and he blankly responds, "3 hours. I made popcorn...".

7th image: The film is presumably over. Jon looks deep fried, he has many creases under his eyes and his hair is a mess, an arrow pointing says his eyes are bloodshot. He proclaims with heavy sarcasm, "Wow! What a great movie!". He thinks to himself, "Jesus Christ, I'm glad that's over." 8th image: Martin smirks and says, "Hah! Just wait until the next one. It's a trilogy." In the bottom, Martin sits on the sofa with a fanged smile. Jon is laying on the ground in the Family Guy death pose with an artificially big butt. 9th image: Text above says "Return of the King (Extended Edition)". Martin has presumably made Jon watch all the movies at once. Jon looks like a husk of a dried corpse, he has creases all over his face and has a single hair sticking up from his head. Martin beside him says, "Yeah, that's one of the many interesting behind the scenes facts-". Jon exhaustedly replies "Cool". End ID.]

[xialing-gf]

can i be so nerdy for a second but the way phil talks about TV and interactive media makes me so so so fucking happy like as a TV studies nerd

this is one of the essays we had to read in my television detection course about early interactive television and like even just hearing how phil would eat a carrot alongside bugs bunny when he watched tv when he was younger to making interactive adventures on video media through youtube to translating that into interactivity in in-person performances on stage and in interviews just makes my stupid little nerd heart sing with joy!! also i think phil's "arthouse era" is a masterclass comparative uses of youtube in comparison to traditional television.

also the use of TVs on the terrible influence set, like old-school TVs used to project modern media and also references to how TVs were considered like the "idiot box" because it was considered mindless or even harmful entertainment that could influence young people in bad ways and how in only recent years there's been an emergence of "prestige tv" and a shift towards television being a more legitimized form of entertainment and that's kind of been a shift that youtube has followed as well!! anyway sorry i just really really love television so fucking much

[spotaus]

New Age AU (Error's Wacky Wild Plan)

Hi guys. So. Crazy Story. The crisis that stopped me from working on my banner art actually catapulted me into writing this drabble finally! (Also the wonderful @ancha-aus was also a life-saver and helped me hammer out a few plot points for this installment <3)

Currently my only context for this drabble is that Error is tiny, and ran away from home because Geno moved to Reaper's kingdom to make money to send back home, and Fresh spent too long away on his trip. Error was expelled from his magic academy and came home to an empty house, so he left! Now he's been on the road for about a month? Nightmare has been ruling for about 6-ish years now, almost 7.

(Hello @mutzelputz and @papiliovolens hi guys!!!)

     The town was bustling. 

   Error had been through a lot of towns since he’d left. Big ones, small ones, ones he was convinced weren’t even towns at all, just a few barns in a general closeness to one another who decided they needed to call themselves something besides the outskirts. Those people had been particularly hostile to his passing through.

   And, lately, they’d been really weird. People staring at him when he’d walk on the streets, or pass by shops. When they saw he had money from a different kingdom (he didn’t even realize he’d left his own, but he figured it meant he was on the right path) they’d squeeze their faces like they bit a lemon and hastily take his coin. Like it was cursed, or something. They were lucky it wasn’t cursed, honestly. He could probably figure out how to do that.

    This town, though, was filled so full with people that he imagined they couldn’t look at him weird if they wanted to. 

   People were riding horses, chatting in the streets, all sorts of stalls and merchants were peddling goods, and he was almost positive he could hear music lifting down the street over the general drone. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d run into a place so busy. He’d always been told to stick to the side, out of the way, out of danger. 

   He didn’t have to listen to that anymore. Though, he did skirt the crowds. The mass of people seemed all too willing to bump shoulders or elbows with each other in the early morning sun, and the last thing he wanted was to have his magic act up in a crowd. He’d done well so far. 

   Every booth, every merchant, every passerby seemed jubilant, ebbing and flowing. It was like some sort of party. 

   That was, until, Error spotted it.

   A big building, something that Error recognized only vaguely. 

   It was an amphitheatre. 

   Geno had taken him to see one once. Or, at least, the ruin of one. It hadn’t been too far from their home, and it was pretty abandoned and lonely. Plants had crawled up its walls, stones had fallen off in chunks, animals seemed to have deemed its high windows a perfect spot to build nests. It had been breathtaking, and ancient. 

   This one? Seemed perfectly in-use. 

   The walls were all in-tact, stones, an easy to look at grey, smooth and covered in little intricate carvings. Spells, he had to imagine, in some language he didn’t know. Curtains hung over the huge arched entrances, and heavy gates seemed to be lifted, the spikes at the base loomed over the heads of every passerby. 

   He couldn’t help but marvel. Was this a restoration, or maybe it was new. Some sort of imitation. Regardless, he found that his feet carried him to one of the entrances, which stood largely empty aside from some folks who looked strikingly like guards.

   Two of them stood, long spears in-hand. They both stood stock still as Error approached, and didn’t move a muscle as he passed them. They were strange, definitely different. Not at all the town guard he was familiar with. 

   The inside of the theatre was even more impressive. Rows and rows of stands seemed to line up either side. Huge tapestry hung from the high arches past those seats, and down the runways of the bleachers, all a bright teal and dark navy blue. They seemed fancy, and much newer than the curtains which had hung in the entrance. 

   Beyond the walkway where he stood, was a set of stairs which led down a level or so, before it leveled out into an open space. Sandy, and very flat. It seemed like there were people there, too. A much smaller crowd, but still a crowd nonetheless. 

   Error was almost amazed he’d not been stopped by someone yet. Whatever was going on seemed important, and so far in his experience, people did not like him sticking his nose into important business. 

   With that in mind, he decided he’d stick to the entryway for now. He leaned his bag up against the wall and watched from a position where the sun still shadowed his form. He was often grateful for his miscolored bones. It made hiding in the dark a whole lot easier. 

   It took a bit for him to really process what he was watching in the morning light. 

   There were four people sat on a sort of raised box toward the front of a stage. A huge stage, raised up off the sand with wood slats. They had a long-table before them, and quills and ink jars in-hand. Well, three were sitting. One was standing. But the point is, they were all watching the stage very attentively. 

   On-stage there was… basically nothing. Only a simple backdrop Error had to imagine was there at all times, because it looked like it was coated in sand, even from the distance where he stood.

   A person would enter the stage, the people sat on the box would speak to them, and then there was a flare of magic. Another. Another. And then they were dismissed. 

   It wasn’t until he really bothered to think about what magic was being cast that he realized those were extremely simple spells being used. Levitate, Create Water, Mimicry. Or Flame, Gust, Light. All just three easy spells, and then they were off-stage. That was taught magic. It gave him memories of his entrance exam to his school. He’d been way overqualified to get in, Geno taught him after all…

   But, no, this didn’t feel the same. There were plenty of people who seemed to stumble at spells they didn’t recognize, or who couldn’t muster a simple breeze. Then others who were very old and obviously skilled. Obviously they found the three spells to be child’s play. Like Error would. This was no entrance exam, so what-

   “Hey, pipsqueak, what are you doing there in the dark?” A voice startled him, and it took all of his willpower to avoid jumping away from its origin. 

   Error twisted rapidly, just in time to avoid the thrust of an elbow in his direction. 

   There was a monster there. Three, actually. Two lizards, both bright green and tropical, and one who looked more like a dragon. The green one closer to him must have spoken, because he laughed at Error’s flinch. 

   “Why are you bothering me?” Error shot back haughtily. 

   The lizard seemed to grin at the response.  

   “Oh, so we’ve got a feisty little small fry here? Thinks he’s scoping out the competition?” The dragonish one hissed, voice deep. 

   The other green one tittered a giggle, “So cute! I can’t believe the King really decided to let just anyone try out for Royal Mage.” 

   Oh…

   The lizard before him seemed to take this silence as a weakness, and reached out quicker than Error could react. A flick to the middle of his forehead. 

   Error winced and pulled away, back and into the arena. He grit his teeth and clutched his skull, where at the same moment the lizard jumped back and shook their hand in the air a bit. His magic had reacted poorly again, and while it was better than it used to be, it still stung like 5 wasps touching down and stinging the same point all at once. 

   “Little freak.” Was all the monster hissed, before he fled. His two friends moving on behind him in confusion. Approaching the line to the stage. 

   Error stood there in the sun for a moment, rubbing at his forehead until the pain was more of a numb static. 

   If anything, he appreciated the little run-in with those wanna-bes. Now he knew exactly what this was, and why it had felt so familiar to him. 

   The Mage Trials. 

   Geno had to go through them, and he’s been very thorough about his every single detail while doing it. Even though he was the best mage Error had ever known, he’d still stressed and wrote page after page of plans and spells and had placed them into a folder that felt thicker than an encyclopedia. Geno had always been the only one of them who bothered studying. Fresh couldn’t go to school anymore, and Error… Well, Error didn’t need to. 

   Thinking about it, Geno had been very quiet about it, but Error had looked into his folder a few times. Just out of curiosity. It’d been split into three rounds, something Geno had said was standardized. The first was a test of someone’s basic magic skills, the second were more complex spells which the mage has practice in, and the third, the one that had given Geno the most grief, was the personal spell round. In the last one, there were no restrictions to what someone could do, so long as they had done the work themselves, and that it mostly used magic. 

   If he was right, and he usually was, then this was the first round. Eliminating those with nothing but a hope and a prayer in their pocket before they got embarrassed before the one looking for the Mage in the first place. In this case, whoever this kingdom’s king even was. 

   In just a few moments, Error had decided. 

   This was how he’d prove himself. 

   The line was already starting to get longer, and he didn’t want to be here until nightfall in a queue. He dusted off his scarf, his shoes, his bag, and set off into the bright sun to secure his place in this contest. No prep. No warning. Just with his raw skill and what he’d learned so far. Nothing could possibly go wrong. 

.

   Finally. 

   Error felt like it had been hours in the warm sun before he was finally up next. 

   He’d been watching, of course. Watching as the people before him were passed or failed. It was just as he’d expected, and he couldn’t help but be a bit giddy as the two green lizard who’d bothered him earlier both failed. Though their dragonish friend had passed, it was still enough of a victory for him.

   Along with that, he noticed that the three people sat were all in robes of nobles. Something the wealthy and lofty would think to wear in a blazing hot arena all day. The one standing, though, was wearing all black. A hood was over his head, but Error thought he might be some sort of cat-monster. Very stone faced, very still. The only time Error had seen him move was seemingly to veto whatever choice the other three were making. He thought it was interesting. 

   That didn’t matter, though. 

   Based on what he’d seen, these people wouldn’t have any qualms with his magic. He was much better than half the people who’d already been passed, and knew he could keep him calm up on the stage. It’d be just like his entrance exam. 

   He watched as the monster who’d gone before him, a skeleton who was twice his height and twice as animal-ish, bowed gratefully to the people on the boxes, the evaluators, and exited. She’d passed fairly easily, Error thought. Though, her focus seemed elsewhere based on how shaky the hold on her last flame had been. 

   “Next!” 

   The call was shrill, and Error had heard it over a hundred times already today, but this time it bounced in his ears as he lifted himself up the steps and strode onstage. 

   If he’d thought about it, he would’ve tried to find a place to stache his bag, but it was too late for that, and frankly he didn’t trust it not to get stolen once it was out of his sight. Not with how busy the city seemed. 

   When he was stood in the center of the stage, he looked out across the way to the evaluators. They seemed closer up here than they did when he was on the ground. Interesting. 

   “First spell,” The person on the far left called, though Error could tell now that it was a voice projection spell. So they didn’t strain their vocal chords, “ Levitate.”

   That was simple. One of the first spells he’d been taught as a kid. 

   His eyes skimmed briefly, there had been a few props on stage that he only noticed once he was closer that were meant to be used with this sort of spell, but Error wasn’t for that. Instead, he muttered the words under his breath, outstretched a hand, and felt his magic reach out around him. Beyond the stage. 

   There… There was a barrier of some sorts, pushing back against his magic, between himself and the evaluators. He furrowed his brow and urged his magic forward. He didn’t have to break through it. He just. Had to- His magic felt like it was looping and wriggling like a worm through the dirt, but when it broke through on the other end, it felt so much more clear. He could feel a potent magic there, something raw and wet, like the air before a storm. 

   That didn’t matter, though. None of it did, because he was on a mission. His magic finally found its target, the stacks of ink bottles which the middle evaluator had just before their parchment. The magic latched on, and Error finally allowed himself a grin as he tugged his hand upwards. They floated calmly into the air, three of them, and did a quick spinning motion, before settling back down just where he’d found them.

   He didn’t catch the looks on the threes faces, but he had to imagine they were priceless. He was more focused on letting the spell dissipate and preparing for the next. 

   It took a moment, before, “Second Spell,” They said, “Create Water.” 

   Another easy one. 

   Error held his hand out again, though this time his palm faced the sky rather than the ground. At the mutter of his words, he could feel the water manifesting. Tiny droplets leaking from his fingers and into the air above his open palm, where he let it gather into a nice, easy sphere. 

   It hovered, and for this one he could see the nods from the three evaluators. The fourth, the cat monster, didn’t move an inch. A good sign. 

   Error, after a breath, moved the orb of water and simply set it on the stage floor. If he had to release it, he didn’t exactly want to get his clothes wet. That orb tended to shoot outwards when he released it, and the water would go everywhere. 

   “Third spell,” They must’ve been contented with his simply setting down the water, for they continued, “Flame.”

   Ah, one of his favorites. He was never very good at it, of course, but it was certainly very fun. If nothing else it’d be a taste of his raw power.

   He rolled up his hanging sleeves, quickly using strands of string to wrap them in place, before he picked back up the water orb in one hand. With the other, he faced his palm toward the side of it, and spoke the words for the flame spell. 

   The heat gathered in his wrist, and all at once shot out of his palm, like a cannon blast. The heat was intense, and Error laughed quietly to himself in pure elation as the fire did exactly what he was hoping. All at once, his glasses fogged, and a burst of steam blew past his face, off to the exiting side of the stage. He’d evaporated his orb, no longer needing to risk someone seeing him fumble with it and soak himself. 

   He let the fire die after a few second, and quickly grabbed the hem of his scarf to wipe down his glasses from the fog left behind on their surface. 

   The moment the red rims were back on the bridge of his nose, the voice spoke up again. 

   “Name?”

   Error cleared his throat, before calling back his name in response. Just the first one, the last one didn’t matter anymore. 

   There was another few breaths of quiet, before, 

   “Age?”

   Error hadn’t heard them ask anyone else for their age, but he figured they’d noticed. How strong and talented he was at such a young age. 

  He puffed up his chest when he announced, “Twelve!” to the arena. 

   There were a few muffled murmurs from the line, but Error was too busy grinning across the way at the evaluators as they seemed to talk amongst themselves. 

   He was ready to hear the word that would mark him to continue. The next part was tomorrow, after this round was concluded and the king arrived. He’d heard about it in the line while he was waiting. 

   One of the evaluators lifted their gaze back to him. Opened their mouth.

   “Disqualified.”

   That.

   Huh?

   Error must’ve visibly glitched at the response, because one of the evaluators seemed to flinch. Ever so slightly. 

   “How come?!” Error called back, reservations immediately fleeing his mind.

   How could they disqualify him? He hadn’t heard them do that to literally anyone else so far today. 

   The evaluator on the far right spoke up, “Too young. Now please move off the-”

   Error might’ve let his mouth speak before his mind, if he hadn’t seen the way the mysterious cat monster seemed to slink forward. A simple tap to the evaluator’s side and they stopped mid-sentence, attention drawing to the person. 

   He waited with balled fists. Hoping, against it all, that this person was using his mighty veto powers to get him his passing review. 

   “The Knight wishes to speak to you further.” They said, when the person, the Knight, took a step back. “Exit the stage.” 

   Mm. 

   This was his chance. This was his moment. He was being allowed to move on, he was sure of it. It had to be. 

   He practically scrambled off the stage and down the steps, and found that the Knight had closed the distance very quickly. He gestured silently for Error to follow him off to the side of the arena, seemingly outside of the voice spell’s range, as the noise of magic and calling for the next viewer seemed all muffled and contained. 

   Something Error noticed about the guy, now that he was right beside him walking along, was also that he wasn’t a cat monster. No, he had some sort of mask shaped like a cat. Black spots painted on black fur, with piercing white eyelights hidden in the darkness cast by his black hood. A cloth mask covered the lower half of his face, so Error would’ve had no idea what kind of monster he was, if he hadn’t left his hands uncovered. They were grey and grimy, but they were most certainly bones. 

   The other thing he noticed, was the magic. That damp, airy magic was no-doubt from this guy. It practically enveloped the both of them until they were stood in the shade of the wall separating bleachers from arena floor. 

   “You said you’re twelve?” He finally asked, shifting on his feet to look at Error. 

   The last thing he noticed, which only happened once he was able to look past the aura, was that. Well. He was a bit taller than this guy. Not by much, but there was certainly something stark about having to look a bit downwards to meet his eyelights. 

   “Yes, I am.” He claimed proudly, still convinced this was to be his ride to the top.

   The knight seemed to skim him with his eyes. Surely taking in Error’s clothes, his bag, his glasses, the weird bones. Though, it didn’t feel pervasive. 

   “Impressively strong for a kid,” He praised loosely, “And probably talented in spells if the nerds were any indication.” 

   His voice was quiet and raspy, but Error had no problem listening to it. This strong and very cool guy who was called a ‘knight’ was praising him. This was much better than getting yelled at by his professors. Much. 

   “Does that mean I passed?” He asked impatiently. 

   He needed this. He needed this. 

   The guy’s eyelights lingered on his face a bit, and it was then that Error finally noticed how virtually unreadable this guy was. Impossibly quiet, posture unmoving, all facial features shrouded in shadow and covered by masks?

   “I’m not sure what kingdom you’re from, but you’ve got to understand that the folks up there didn’t say no because you’re bad. They said no because the king made a new decree. “No soul under the age of 16 shall be put to work under the crown.” They’ve gotta take it seriously, just like everyone else has to follow the new rules about their own shops and businesses.” He said evenly, eyelights never leaving Error’s face. “You’re a couple years too early is all.” 

   It felt like he’d been shoved into a ditch, and he could already feel his right hand starting to tremble with the beginnings of a glitch. He was furious! How could they possibly say no to him because of some stupid rule about his age? 

   “No!” He exclaimed, trying to bite back the distortion on his voice, “I’m not going to just walk away. If I could just move on to the next round, they’d see I’m different! I’m not some weak little baby!” 

   He clenched his fists, driving his jittering one forcefully into his pocket. 

   The knight didn’t even flinch at his declaration. 

   “They’ve already seen that.” He said easily. “Listen to me. Error, right?” 

   Error hesitantly nodded. 

   “Error, ‘m sure that if my Lord saw you in action, he too would agree that you are very strong and resourceful.” The knight said, and Error hated that it sounded earnest. “But, he set that law into place for very good reason. If by any means those folks back there were to let you through, to pass you, and you made it before the king next round? They’d have committed treason, and I’d have their souls on the end of my bone in three seconds flat.” 

   His voice was hard and serious, and Error held strong as a loud crack echoed out beside the knight. A bone raised from the ground, sharp and jagged on the end, absolutely radiating magic. 

   “Do you really want their blood on your conscience, just so that you get sent away by the King anyways?” The knight offered. 

   Error hunched his shoulders a bit, and he felt his static worsen as he let his eyes linger on the bone. Yes. He muttered inside his head. He wanted to scream it at the man before him. Tell him that this was his one golden chance to prove himself. 

   But to who? He would ask, and Error wouldn’t be able to say it. It’d be a wasted sentiment and wasted time and wasted lives just for his temper tantrum. 

   “...No.” He bit out meekly. 

   He stood there, feeling a familiar shame creep up his spine. The knight made no move to leave, though he did let his bone disappear. The ground looked untouched from where it had split out of. Just more sand. Sand that was getting into Error’s bones. That he’d have to clean out later. Swinging in his hammock, lonely and moping. 

   “Heh,” The chuckle was almost inaudible, and Error was almost ready to let his distress turn back into rage, but, “Better kid than I was.” The Knight mused into the open air.

   He seemed to shift his stance again, and Error took a half step back. 

   “You’ve got your life ahead of you, kid. Don’t let this keep you down. Take the road less traveled by or whatever.” He said then, waving a hand loosely before him. 

   Error stared at him, trying to even his breath, before he had an idea. 

   “The other two rounds will be here, right?” He asked, voice still harshly stuttering and screeching. The Knight seemed unbothered.

   “Yeah. Planning on sticking around to watch?” The knight questioned, though it felt more like a warning. 

   Error nodded in agreement without hesitation. “If these geezers can get the job, I need to see what kind of tricks they have up their sleeves.” He agreed. 

   That earned another little chuckle, before the knight looked back to the stage. 

   Up in the center was a new mage, a human who seemed to be making a pretty wild wind that was whipping the sand around, bothering the people in line behind him. Error heard the knight make a scoffing noise, before turning back towards the stage.

   “Go hang around somewhere else for a while, why don’t you? I have to go make sure those nerds don’t pass that guy.” 

   Error didn’t even get to say a farewell before the Knight was off. 

   It seemed like every stride he teleported a bit further, building speed until he stopped cleanly up on the pedestal. Just in time for the sandstorm to die down. 

   Error didn’t want to walk away from this, he didn’t, but staying would only waste his time. It only took a few more seconds, to watch the knight nudge the evaluator and hear the muffled call of ‘fail’ ring out across the arena before he was turning tail and moving out of the sandy paradise, back into the bustle of the living city. 

.

.

.

   It was impossible to miss it. The sounds of celebration as the monarch entered the town. 

   Error could see the royal carriage from his perch, an old temple tower that had at some point lost its bell. It seemed untouched, birds nests and cobwebs, so he’d set up a hammock and a little makeshift shelter inside using his strings just before night fell. 

   He’d snatched some food from the town as dusk was setting in, and he’d been comfortably whittling away the dark hours, working hard on his plan. 

   With the King officially in town, that meant the second round would be starting up shortly, taking the numbers of who would be in the third round down by hundreds. He hoped the king was stingy about it. He hoped that dragonish monster would stumble on his spell and turn someone into a frog. 

   The thought humored him, and he cackled quietly to himself from his makeshift room. 

   The sun was high again, and he was only a part of the way through. His spells required a lot of his magic to be woven into them, and while it was much much faster than what he’d heard was the usual, it was still difficult to make. 

   Weaving the blue strings from his sockets, to his fingers, around his fingertips, and into the shapes he needed. It was monotonous, and boring by all accounts, but with every strand there was a new flow of power. A new pump of adrenaline into Error’s soul as he recognized his creation becoming more potent. Intent, intent, intent, every loop and knot was filled to the brim with it. His frustration sat at the core. Much more volatile and destructive than his usual intent, but it would serve him well if he wanted this plan to go well. Around it was his determination. The strings woven in with a sense of stubbornness which refused to let go, like a snake swallowing its prey whole. This would compress the first layer into a proper state. Let it coil and coil and coil until it burst. It’d be big, and loud, and send out that message he so desperately needed to be heard by the king. 

   Skipping the second round would probably hurt him in the long run, but… That knight had said he’d have to kill those people if he showed his face in round two. So, he’d just appear in round three instead, and make up for missing the second one. A final act, of sorts. 

   He’d have to be at this all day to make the time crunch. The orb was hardly as big as his palm, not nearly big enough. Though, he had wasted time making the shelter and finding food. He’d just have to skip a couple meals to make up for it. He didn’t really need to eat that much anyways, he’d known that for years. He just tried to make an effort when he smelled something tasty. 

   He knew he could manage. 

   It was late in the night when Error finally started on the outer layers. Those which would be filled with his patience, so that the potent insides would not be sensed as he moved with it among the many magic users. 

   The town had begun to line the streets with torches and party as the stars arrived. No doubt celebrating those who would be at the third and final round tomorrow. The ones who would be competing to become the new Royal Mage. 

   To Error? Every single moment down there was dedicated to him. They just didn’t know it yet. 

.

.

.

   The morning came, and Error only had a few more layers. 

   By the time the sun was almost in the center of the sky above, he had finished it, and carefully tucked it into his backpack. He unraveled the strings and carefully wrapped them, shaping them, changing them into a thin net with long ends. This was shoved into his jacket sleeve, the ends clutched tight in his hand. 

   It took him hardly any time at all to get to the arena, and he was early. 

   Good.

   He settled himself up in the stands, as close to the stage as he could get. Many people seemed to be staying outside the arena, sticking to the streets, but there was still enough of a crowd in the bleachers that Error had to be careful as he worked his way along the edges. He needed to be closer. Closer…

   There. 

   He stood at the railing behind the stage. 

   From here, he could see the line to the left, and he could see the people who had finished lingering on the other side. None of them spoke to each other, only standing about, icily, waiting for the rest to finish so they’d know which of them was chosen, and who was not. Error had to imagine that these folks were just as lame and boring as the seniors from his old academy. No fun at all. 

   He waited, so, so patiently, for the next few people. The last few. 

   Though he couldn’t see the spells themselves, he could certainly feel the pressure coming off of them. The control that they’d need to balance it. How much it might’ve drained their energy to do it just once. He was attuned to that sort of thing, he had to be. 

   His assessment was that all of these last few folks weren’t bad, but they were no match for Error’s raw talent. 

   Each spell cast seemed to tick away at Error’s patience, until it finally happened. The last mage went on-stage. It seemed there had been 15 of them. 

   He’d have to make 16, then. 

   It felt like a blur as he jumped the rails and let his strings carry him across the open space, much to the shock of the few who had been watching the competitors from around him. The blue lines snatched at the wooden supports of the stage, and he swung right over top, landing a bit messily in the center of the stage.

   He didn’t have time to look at everything. All he knew was the crowd was much larger than last time, that there was a shout of ‘Hey!’’ from somewhere to his left, and that the box across from the stage now held only three people. Monsters. One Error recognized, the knight in shadows who’d spoken to him. The other two he didn’t know, but he had to assume the one in the middle, tall and imposing, and dark, with an eyelight the same colors as the tapestries, was the King he was looking to impress. That was all he needed to know. 

   “M’lord, my name is Error!” He called out across the sand, and in one motion he shrugged the bag off his shoulders and used his strings to tug the orb out of its canvas body. “I want to prove that I’m more capable than any of the adults who just went before me! I could be your mage!” He would be the mage. 

   The orb sat cradled in Error’s hand for only the briefest moment, before it was inside the little net he’d made. He swung it in circles. Again. Again. Again. 

   He had to be fast. He had to do this quick.

   Error spent one last moment, extending his reach through his strings, muttering words and igniting an intangible spark. 

   For a brief moment, he watched as the King seemed to ease forward. A hand now raised, seemingly calling off his knights, who had been almost in motion. 

   He released the orb directly upwards, momentum carrying it up. 

   Up.

   Up.

   Into the blue sky. Practically into the sun. 

   Error watched it rise above him. 

   Only. 

   “Shit.” 

   His calculations must’ve been off. He must’ve added a layer too many, or maybe he released it a swing too soon. But he could tell that it wouldn’t clear the top of the arena. 

   Maybe if he had a few more seconds he could’ve used strings to boost it. He could’ve sent a magic gust to lift it further. 

   Not the case.

   He watched as the orb detonated, just like it was supposed to. 

   The wave moved horizontally through the air, and swept across the air above the arena so quickly that it sucked the sand from the top layer and threw it against the tall walls. Error’s footing slipped, and he stumbled to his knees on the stage as the wind whipped and tugged the heavy curtains into the air current as well. 

   It was an almost invisible force, Error had to imagine anyone without a solid grasp of magic would entirely miss it as it spread out. 

  He winced as it finally reached the edges of the arena, where he had just barely managed to fall short of clearing. 

   As the magic passed over the stone and mortar, he saw as it fell. Not in chunks, but crumbled like dust into fine particles. The upper half of every arch at the top of the grand amphitheatre, turned pitch black, then wasted away. 

   He hadn’t meant for it to come in contact with anything. It wasn’t supposed to do anything but harmlessly wave over everyone’s heads. As a show of his strength. That was all.

   Error could only think back to when this had happened before. When he’d accidentally exploded Geno’s favorite mug while metering the strength of his strings. When he’d broken the wheel of a carriage passing through the woods with a wayward slingshot blast. When he’d broken all ten of the large windows in the lecture hall of the academy when he failed to complete a spell the way it was written. When he’d done it too well.

   As he rose to his feet, he half expected the nagging voice of his older brother to be there, chastising him for not being more careful, before taking him home and making him dinner. 

   It wasn’t that, though. 

   He watched out across the sand. The king had his head tilted only slightly, looking up at Error’s lofty mistake. At the clean cut where stone now met unbothered air. His knight, the one in all black, was leaned ever so slightly towards him. They must’ve been speaking. Or, at least, the knight was. 

   About Error, he had no doubt. 

   He stayed in place, watching, swaying a bit with the residual force of his own spell lingering in his fingertips. Every instinct which told him to run and to hide were smothered and stamped out by the ligering fact that he had nowhere to go. Without his brothers, there was no one to help him. He knew it. 

   Even in front of this crowd. These mages. This King and his knights. He couldn’t bring himself to move offstage. Some part of him, deep down, childishly wanted the King to announce that he was impressed. To parade him offstage and let him experience what Geno had. Let him know why Geno left. 

   The King’s single eyelight swam back over to look at Error in the silence. 

   Error felt like the world had stopped. 

   It hadn’t.

   There was a clattering of armor and rustling of fabric, suddenly loud in his ears, and he had no time to react as everything came rushing in all at once. 

   Hands. Heavy, gloved hands. Two sets, two hands each wrapped one of his upper arms, and immediately lifted him off the ground. Into the air. 

   Pain flooded into his bones from his soul, like twin lightning strikes, trying to singe the bone and the magic in its core. The pressure wasn’t much, his mind knew that, but his body usually didn’t listen to him. He tried desperately to hold it in. The rampant part of his magic that had been hurting him since he could remember. That made it hard to touch anyone. To shake hands. To hug his brothers. 

   “Let go!” He pleaded, though he wasn’t sure if his voice made any sense. Fresh always told him they couldn’t tell what he was saying when his voice got too bad.

   More pain. He kicked his legs at the open air, and tried to muster control over his strings, just for a moment, but he couldn’t. He couldn’t focus. 

   And all at once it stopped. 

   Error’s feet were on the ground again, though that promptly became his knees again as he swayed and wavered in the sudden aftermath of his active magic dying down. Receding back into his soul. Because it didn’t need to ‘protect’ him anymore.

   He spotted then, as his vision returned to something aside from the gloves or the sky, that the King was no longer in his throne. In fact, there was a heavy, encompassing, magical weight behind him now. Somewhere very, very close-by.

   He took a deep breath, grounding himself. 

   “We are taking a recess.” Announced a booming voice. Very nearby. It was deep, and felt almost the same as the projection spell from two days prior. Then, more quietly, “You will leave the boy to me. Go ensure no one was injured, then manage the crowd. I’ll make my choice tomorrow at sunrise.” 

   The second bit felt quieter, an edge to the tone that Error didn’t quite like. Considering he must be the boy in question. 

   It was a moment, a few muddled ‘Yes, my king’ s, before Error found a pair of boots stepping before him. His head swam as he looked upwards. 

   The King, he figured that had to be him, was dark. Very dark. Like a living, dripping, shadow. Magic seemed to be all he was made of, an aura radiating from him. Dripping off his back into long slimy worms, twitching as they sat near the ground. He wore a fancy cape, too. One with huge gold clasps on his shoulders, one was shaped like the moon. 

   Error looked to his face last. In hindsight, something that could’ve been very, very bad. He was met with a dripping face. Skeletal. The place where his right socket should’ve sat was covered in that dark substance. The other hollow, with that bright cyan orb staring right back at him. 

   “Can you stand?” His voice came easily, and Error braced himself. 

   Could he?

   He had to, he didn’t want to be touched again. 

   Error took another breath, and managed to rise silently to his feet. 

   “Good,” the King said once he was standing, “Follow me.”

   It was an order he didn’t dare refuse. 

.

.

.

   Error found himself in an odd position. 

   He’d been given time to sit and recover from his magic’s outlash, and now he was sat in a room beneath the bleachers of the arena alongside the King and that knight he’d met before. The other one was guarding the door, he thought. 

   It’d been silent for a while, and it was almost expected when the silence was finally broken. 

   “You said your name is Error, correct?” The King asked, and Error gave a nod of yes. He forced himself to meet the King’s gaze.

   “Dust says that you’re only 12, and our people disqualified you in the first round. Is that right?” 

   Error nodded again. 

   “And Dust even explained to you why you were disqualified?” 

   Another nod. It seemed he’d at least made an impression on the knight. Dust. 

   The King tilted his head ever so slightly to the side, eyelight holding Error’s tightly. 

   “Then, I’ll ask, what brought you to think this was a good choice? To try and become Royal Mage above any cost it might bring?” The king asked, and Error was surprised to find it was a shockingly gentle tone. “Your home, your family, your life. You are so young, why put it all on the line like this?” 

   Oh. 

   It was almost funny. Was this whole thing because the king was some sort of charitycase? So disillusioned by his perfect life that he couldn’t even think of the hardships any random kid could go through? He almost grinned at that, barely keeping his mouth from twitching in a mix of frustration and humor.

   “I wanted to prove myself,” He muttered, “And besides, becoming the Royal Mage would be great.” 

   He waited, waited for the King to inhale, to say something, before, 

   “I’m an orphan.” He spat, finally. “Family abandoned me, house is left behind, expelled from school. I don’t want to keep wandering.” 

   It was basically the truth. This was his big break. His one last chance before he became a hated little vagabond. Maybe even a criminal. Maybe he’d have to go on the run for the rest of his life, live as a nomad. Join a caravan. Those people got stopped a lot though, kingdoms didn’t like them. He’d probably explode some city’s bakery by mistake and get put in jail for-

   “Wait!” Error suddenly exclaimed, breaking free of his thoughts, “Am I in trouble? Am I going to jail??” He asked then. 

   His worries slammed to a grinding halt and he stared wide-eyed at the two before him. Geno had always told him not to go making his big stuff near town, because if the guard caught him he wouldn’t be able to bail him out. He’d end up in jail. Of course, it’d never happened back then because he was always fast enough. Always smart enough to get out of dodge when he broke something or made poor decisions. Here? Here he hadn’t run when he had the chance. 

   The King stared at him, his one eyelight nearly mirroring Error’s in surprise at the question. 

   “I mean,” he started, “You’re young. If I wont let you work for me, I wouldn’t dare put you in prison either.” The King stated, “Though, you did do quite a bit of damage to the theatre.” 

   Error watched him break eye contact finally and look over his shoulder to the Knight stood there. He’d been silently watching Error too. 

   When he had no insight, The king seemed to heave a sigh, and the shadowy extra limbs which draped around him twitched. 

   “You’re sure you have no family? No home?” the King asked him again, and Error nodded.

   The king muttered something under his breath, and shot the Knight another look. The knight shrugged. 

   “I… Will not employ you. Though, I do see talent in you, Error.” the King said carefully, a bit slower in his words than he had been up until now. Almost… unsure. “I will, however, extend to you the title so that you may conduct…” He waved a hand before himself, as though searching for a word, “ You may conduct independent research. If you accept, of course.”

   “You would be free to resend your acceptance at any moment, no strings attached, and may take any work you complete along with you, and any pay you receive would be given to you after your 16th birthday, if you stay that long.” He added, “I’ll have to rewrite the contract, but-”

   “I accept!” 

   Error couldn’t help himself. He was so excited he could puke. The last thing he’d expected was to pull this off. This shitshow of a scheme actually got him the job? He could scream. He could jump up and down for joy. He didn’t, he sat eagerly and tense in his seat instead, but he could’ve. 

   The King seemed to hesitate, for a few breaths, before relaxing. He stood, and offered a hand out slowly to Error. 

   Error stood too, grinning. He could manage this one. He could do it. 

   It was brief, but he grasped the King’s hand and shook it firmly.

   “Dust, will you help Error locate his belongings, and escort him to wherever he is staying tonight? I’ll send Cross to swap with you a bit later. We’ll reconvene in the morning just before sunrise.” 

[swordheld]

hi! your blog is one of my favourites and i absolutely adore reading your thoughts. my grandfather recently passed away and it feels like i lost myself with him. how do i continue living after this? there is this constant weight on my chest and it feels like an emptiness has made a home inside of me. how do i go on when it feels like the world crashed on my shoulders?

hello, love! this is so very sweet and kind of you, and i hope you're treating yourself gently and kindly right now - there aren't words for a loss like this. that heaviness is difficult, and hard, and painful. it's okay if things don't feel okay, right now, or even soon - i think that's something that a lot of the people i know that have gone through similar grief feel: like they should be able to get back to a relative 'normal' in a [insert far too short period of time].

but it's okay if it hurts. that's where i'd like to start. you're allowed to feel that emptiness, that world-crashed feeling that goes beyond words, beyond time. don't feel like you have to rush this to feel some sort of better. things get easier with time, i promise you this, but sometimes painful feelings are important to feel, too. cry, scream, feel your emotions. they're a part of you. grieve.

it's perhaps a little silly, but when i think about death i always think about a couple of space songs: mainly drops of jupiter by train and saturn by sleeping at last. there are perhaps others that speak to the emotions better, but these two have always hit something a little deeper for me, and are popular for a wide-reaching reason.

and while personally i don't know much about grief like this, i do know a lot about love; and i think they're a lot of the same thing.

the people we love are a part of us, and this is why it takes from us so deeply when we lose them, because it does feel like we've lost a part of ourselves in the wake of it. but it's because they were so central to our experiences of living - our lives, that the separation introduces a hollowness - a place where they used to be. a home that now goes unlived in.

an emptiness, like you said.

but just because they're not here physically, doesn't mean he's not still there, in your heart, in your life, your memory. you can hold him close in smaller ways, as well: steal a sweater, or cologne/scent for something a little more physical and long lasting for remembering. hold onto the memories you cherish, the things that made you laugh, the ease of slow mornings and gentle nights. write them all down, slide a few photographs in there, go through it and add more when you miss him. keep them all close, keep them in your heart.

you're not alone, in this. he's still there, with you, it's just - in the little things.

he's with you in the way you see and go about your daily life, in doing what he liked to do, in the ways he interacted with the world that you shared with him. the memories you recall fondly when the night is late or the moment is right and something calls it into you like a melody, an old bell, laughter you'd recognize anywhere.

but i think, perhaps most importantly above all others - talk about him. with your family, your friends, his friends, strangers; stories are how we keep the people we love alive. the connections they've made, the legacies and experiences they've left behind, and so, so many stories.

how lucky, we are - to love so much it takes a piece of us when they go. grief is the other side of the coin, but it does not mean our love goes away. it lives in you. it lives in everyone who knew him, in the smallest pieces of our lives.

the people we love never really leave us, like this: they're in how we cook and the way we fold our newspapers, our laundry, in the radio stations we tune in to and the way we decorate our walls, our photo albums. they're in the way we store our mail, organize our closets, the scribbled notes in the indexes of our books. the meals we love and the drinks we mix, the way we spend time with one another. they've been passed down for generations, for longer than history - and we are all the luckier for it.

think about what you shared with him, and do it intentionally. bring him into your life, like this, again. whether it's crosswords or poetry or sports or anything else. if one doesn't help, try another. something might click.

i hope things feel a little easier for you, as they tend to do only with time. i hope you find joy in your grief, even if it is small and hard to grasp at first. know that your hurt stems from so much love that there isn't a place to put it properly, and that it is something so meaningful and hurting poets and storytellers have been struggling to put it into words and sounds that feel like the fit right for eons, and that it is also just simply yours. sometimes things don't have to make sense. sometimes they just are - unable to be put into words or neat little sentiments, as unfair and tragic as they come.

but i promise it will not feel like this forever. your love is real. and perhaps, on where to begin on from here - i think it's less on finding where to begin and just beginning. and you've already started. you've taken the most important and crucial step: the first one. wherever you go, after that, from here? you'll figure it out. you always have, and you always do. it'll come, as things always do. love leads us, as does light - and you're never alone in your hurt. in your grief, your missing something dear to you. i think if you talk about it with others, you'll find they have ways of helping you cope as well - and they have so much love of their own to spare, too.

as an aside, here is the song (northern star by dom fera) i was listening to when i wrote this, for no other reason more than it makes me think of connections, and love, and how we hold onto the people we love and how they change us, wonderfully and intrinsically. it's a little more joyous than the others i've mentioned, and plays like a story, and it made me think of what is at the core of this, love and stories and i am here with you, and maybe it'll bring you some joy, if you'd like it. wishing you all my love and ease 💛