#but I don't so this is the best I can do folks

[so-i-did-this-thing]

Hello!

I wanted to ask a question, if that's okay. So, I'm genderfluid afab and feel like a man sometimes (probably more often than I allow myself to realise). I don't have access to a Binder or anything of that sort (transphobic parents).

Is there any way for me to look/be more masculine? I'm a bit scared of goggling because I don't want to accidentally take advice from Tate people or the like.

(PS. I really like your Siegfried Farnon cosplay!)

Heya!

This is a tough one to answer. Because "masculine" means different things to different people. And "passing", as well.

Like. When I wear my fleece jacket and baseball cap, I'm deliberately passing as a certain type of man. But I felt more masculine the other day wearing an ascot.

So, I think we need to break down this question:

1) If you're looking to pass, there are going to be trans masc guides out there that will direct you to a very particular gender presentation. They tend to assume you are white and skinny. They present themselves as a list of Dos and Do-Nots, and at the end of the day, do more harm than good, imo. Because passing guides are almost always about hiding parts of yourself physically, often to the expense of hiding parts of your psyche.

Seek them out if you must, but when it comes to passing for safety, all I can suggest is ambiguous layers, a hat, keeping your head down and your mouth shut. The best way to pass is to not draw attention to yourself, alas.

2) If you're looking to dress more masculine to alleviate gender dysphoria, then you need to drill down to what makes you dysphoric and start there. My smaller feet is one area of contention for me, so I look for semi-dressy shoes that look long and elegant (like Taft boots). Since you can't get a binder, consider layers, if your chest bothers you.

3) If you're looking to dress more masculine to seek gender euphoria, then figure out your aesthetic masculine ideal. Make a pinboard of Looks you enjoy and see if there are trends. Some folks are drawn to athletic wear. Work wear. Perhaps a vintage aesthetic -- Rockabilly. 90s grunge. 1940s British country vet (meeeee, lol).

Ask yourself: What are the hallmarks of this style? Are there casual and formal versions? How does it change seasonally? How much of it is clothing and how much of it is the body (haircut, being muscular, etc)? And above all - what is this style trying to communicate to others?

Once done, see what sort of fashion tips are out there for your style. Who are the fashion experts and how much do you care about their advice? (Menswear guy has great tips about how a modern suit "should" fit, but a lot of his advice is also personal preference with a big dollop of classism.)

Pay close attention to how men wear their clothes -- where they sit on the body, how they style the outfit. Compare how a man is styled in your preferred look to how a woman is styled and see what that sparks in you. How much of it is the clothing or body? How much is posture? You might discern some visual shorthand you can harness to be read as more masculine. You might also come up with ways to have plausible deniability around your parents by being able to pivot a masculine look to be more feminine, when needed.

After all this research, get yourself to a thrift shop or other second hand option and start experimenting. Buying actual men's clothing is probably going to be your best bet, but depending on your Look Book, that may not always be the case.

No one can tell you how to feel more masculine -- that really needs to come from within. Once you figure that out, then it's a matter of reconciling your ideal look with the peculiarities of your body. (And all men have their own challenges wrt the fit of clothes.)

Afford yourself as much grace as possible when it comes to your body. And again, remember that feeling more masculine and passing more masculine may not always overlap and could even be at odds. And only you can determine if and when that is a problem.

[megamindsecretlair]

This is the last time I'm engaging in this bullshit.

Please take care of yourselves. Do not feed the circus. Do not yell and scream and engage in anyway with that shit stains supporters. Block, don't answer, don't feed the circus 👏🏽

Be honest about what you can and cannot handle. Reach out for help when you need it. Engage with something creative to take your mind off. Write, sing, dance, go outside, get some sun on your bones. Live your life as best as you can, achieve your dreams, look for a better tomorrow.

Its ass right now. And it's gonna be ass for the next 4 years. I cannot stress this enough. Do not feed the circus. They get off on being energy vampires. And we aint got time for that. Its time to survive. It's time to thrive.

Do what YOU need to survive. Stop giving them attention. Stop pleading with them. They've shown you that it will always fall on deaf ears. This country isn't interested in progress. It's comfortable being the laughing stock of the world because of insecure, cry baby, woe is me, wanna be oppressed so damn badly white incels and the bitches that love them.

Do what YOU need to survive. Hang in there folks. We survived this shit stain before. We'll mf do it again.

[iamyourdailydoseofbi]

MONEY, MONEY, MONEY, MUST BE FUNNY IN A RICH MAN'S WORLD. ( HOTD X READER )

AUTHOR NOTE! Thanks for all the love. <3 pairing: Aegon Targaryen x Stagehand! Reader prompt : Aegon falls in love with the stagehand of a jazz club. word count: 1, 000+ words

Aegon had a silver spoon up his ass from birth. He got the best cars, the best drugs, the best clothing, the best food. He didn't understand that not everyone had trust funds or billions in their bank account. He never knew struggle, nor would be thanks to his family name. He was a Targaryen, a god amongst the 'common folk'. But, in the small jazz club on the edge of Flea Bottom, he was just another man.

The bartender's didn't care about him, forcing him to pay full price for drinks. The dancers, more than once, backhanded slapped him for trying to catch a feel. All because of you, the stagehand, and brains behind the club. You preferred the shadows, keeping things smooth behind the scenes, saving you from embarrassment should you fail in public. You keep your co-worker's safe, and they did the same for you.

It was honorable. He could not fault you for ordering them to stand up for themselves. Even in the more sinful way of life, they still deserved basic respect. It also didn't help that you looked stunning when cursing him out. The way your eyes hardened. The way you would rip him apart with words. The color insults.

'The cumshot his Mother should have swallowed..'

'The inbred brat..'

'The depressing little wet rat..'

'The guy named Egg'

There was something about you. He didn't know what exactly. It could been the way you cussed him out. Or it could have been the way your eyes light up when you controlled the jazz club. But, there was a part of you that made him want to kick his feet up and twirl his hair like a giddy school girl.

Letting out a tipsy giggle as you snatch the glass of whiskey out of his hand, he leans against the bar table, a dopey grin on his face. He was not even close to being drunk, he’d barely even taken a sip of his whiskey. But, the look on your face was enough to make him feel drunk. You were so pretty. Your eyebrows furrowed, nose softly scrunched up, teeth gritted together, cheeks a flushed pink from anger.  Resting his chin on the palm of his hand, you were so pretty like this, all red faced and eyes full of hatred. He’d twirl his hair if it was long enough. Leaning a little closer on the bar table, he was practically standing on his tippy toes, eager to be close to you. 

“You come into my club, drunk, and think you can demand more to drink? There is no way that I am going to allow you to put my club at risk.” You snap back, shoving a water bottle into his hand. 

“You’re really pretty. Did you know that?” He giggles, “You’d even be prettier if you were to wear something designer, like some Chanel or some Vivienne Westwood. You should let me buy you some, sometime.”

“You're drunk.”  You scoff, shaking your head. 

“Pff! I am not drunk, well, drunk enough to not recognize that you're pretty when you're cursing me out. You’re, like, really pretty when you do it. But, I do think you’d be prettier if you did in something vintage.” He rambles on, the dopey grin on his face growing. 

“You’re drunk.” You state bluntly, rolling your eyes. 

"Again, with assuming that I am drunk."

Sitting back in his seat, he watches you pour out his whiskey into the sink, filling the cup with water. Unable to resist, he rolls his eyes hard a the sight of your routine. This happened almost every time, like clock work. He'd make a ass of himself, you'd assume he was drunk, pour out his drink and serve him water. It was oddly comforting. You cared, or at least it felt like you had cared for him. Even though a tiny part of him knew that you only cared for your club and the lawsuit that could happen. Still, he choose to believe that you cared for him.

"Let me..Let me take you out, just one date? We don't even need to kiss or hold hands." He attempts to negotiate, "I'll take you to the movies we can watch a nice film and just talk."

"I do not think that this is in your vocabulary." You scoff, placing the glass in front of him.

"And you know my vocabulary, now?" He scoffs back, mimicking your face playfully.

"I know people like you, your not that special or hard to read." You argues, "You pretend to be perfect just to get me to let you in my bed."

"One movie, that's it. No funny business."

"I do not like movies." You shake your head, making him scowl.

"Then we can go to the park and talk, there's a farmer's market." He tries again, "Get something to eat."

Watching you shake your head with a bitter chuckle, he cracks a smile, fingers drumming against the bar top. You may have been mocking him. Or maybe he was just high off the smell of cigarettes and cheap cologne that was thick in the club. But, just for a moment it all felt real. Like you cared, like you would consider it and accept.

"You're not giving up, are you?" You ask, lifting your gaze up to him.

"I will, if you ask me too."

"And..And if I want you to take me on a million dollar shopping spree?" You ask, the curiosity in your voice clear.

"I'd take you on a ten million one." He states without hesitation.

Watching you chew on your bottom lip, he waits, not daring to say another thing. He'd fear that if he say anything else it would made you rethink everything. That you'd call for security. Drumming his fingers on the bar top, you roll your eyes hard, making his heart sink. Cowering in his seat, he loose his confidence, his shoulders shagging. Swallowing the lump in his throat, he tries to shrug it off, scoffing. He didn't care? Why would he? It wasn't that big of a deal.

"I get off in an hour, stay and wait or don't." You mumble walking away, "I don't care."

---

[the-river-sage]

i'm seeing a lot of posts trying to spread some positivity right now (which is good), but the ways that some of them are doing it is by essentially lying to people in some way (which is bad (imo)). so, i want to offer a weird sort of bleak optimism (yes i know that sounds like an oxymoron. no i don't care. i am too damn tired after this long ass night and i promise there's a point and it should make sense).

some people, myself included, when presented with the argument of "we survived [x]" will be quick to remind folks that "not all of us did". "we survived Reagan" -> "not all of us did", "we survived Trump in 2016" -> "not all of us did", "we will survive Trump again" -> "not. all of us. will" i don't say this to stoke further despair and gloom, i say that on this particular reblog chain to emphasize: you CANNOT be the thing that makes you one of the ones who doesn't survive. as many of you, of us, as possible need to survive specifically BECAUSE not all of us will. those of us who do survive need to be there to tell people in the future that "not all of us did", because people ignoring that and being dismissive of it is part of why some people don't view figures like Trump as the very real threats that they are.

so survive. even if you don't think you want to, even if you don't think you can, do your best to do it anyways. if possible, don't just survive, live. live the life that "not all of us" will get to and carry that flame of community. don't let solidarity end at death.

I hope none of you disappear in the coming days. Seriously don't do anything that can't be undone.

[knitmeapony]

So you're panicking and you don't know what to do, and you feel like you have to do everything ASAP?

My best advice to you is this: pick two things, and then focus.

Pick one thing to do for yourself. This can be self-care like making an art or this can be making sure your vaccinations are up to date or this can be volunteering at or donating to a charity fighting for some Civil Right of yours.

Try not to stress about the decision. I know that that's tough, but remember that what you are doing right now isn't the only thing you are ever going to do. This isn't the most important thing you can do, it's not the biggest thing you can do, it's just one thing you think you can handle right now.

Now, do something for someone else. Same rules apply, it doesn't matter what you're doing. Make a meal for someone or volunteer in your neighborhood or send your friend a letter or an email with a message of hope. Let folks know you are there, and you're with them.

You will almost certainly already feel a little bit better.

Now keep doing that. One thing for you, one thing for somebody else. You can change up the thing you're doing each time if that helps. At some point, you're going to find something that really clicks for you. The timing works out well, it works for your budget. You're good at it or you feel like you're making real progress.

Now, focus. Do that thing more. Find other ways to do that thing. Make that your personal first choice of stuff to do. Make that part of your regular routine.

We cannot all always be helping with every single cause all the time. The next few years are going to have lots and lots and lots of things that do you want to help with. And if you are good at budgeting your time and making decisions when you are anxious, go nuts.

But if you are panicking, and you don't know what to do, just stop. Take a breath. Remember you are one person. Then do something for yourself, then do something for someone else. And when everything starts to really click for you, focus on the thing that you can do a lot of.

[literallynathandrake]

So She Lost

The 2024 election and how to make things better

We did our best folks, we voted. We canvassed and phone banked and fundraised and bullied the president into dropping out of the race. But we lost. We cannot change that, and the sooner you accept that then sooner you can begin to feel better.

Take a week, a month, till the inauguration, however long to come to terms with what happened. You're feeling grief and grief takes time to process.

But a lost election does not mean you will die.

Your life, if I had to guess, will become materially worse. If you're queer and in a red state start saving up. If you're trans get those name and gender changes in. If you're undocumented, or related to someone undocumented, get your shit gathered.

I can't guide you through everything but I can tell you now that your life is not over, and even if it will suck absolute shit, it will get better over time. You'll graduate, get a promotion, find a partner (or find some garlic bread if you're not into the whole relationship thing), see friends, watch movies, read books, watch a sunset. There will still be good things, and it is important that we appreciate these good things especially when things start to suck.

We can't make any calls on how bad the next four years will be but I can say this, fascist governments can't last forever. They're a fire that gets lit and burns itself out. Some fires are big and destroy a lot of things, sometimes they can be contained, sometimes they burn longer than you'd like.

But they do burn out, especially when people contain it and help control it.

Find local organizations that advocate for the one thing you care most about. Trans rights, abortion, Gaza, homelessness. Go to join them, work with them, and recruit for them.

If you can't find these orgs, get a friend and do it yourself. If you can't find a friend, make one. Do not ever think you are helpless, you are a member of your community and with enough work you can work to change it. Even if no one listens to you, you are there making a statement and that means that you are not silent.

As online as I am I think I'm going to wane off it. It does nothing for me, outside of wasting my time and laugh at funny jpegs. It's important that we remember that the Internet is not real life, as much as it may seem.

Also, and I don't care if you're an anarchist, socialist, communist, third worldist, neo-Trotskyite. You're a bleeding heart liberal now. Keep your social positions, but leftism can't get done now. You love Joe Biden, you loved Hillary, you were ok with Bernie. Work within this framework until it becomes politically viable to do anything else.

Sleep, we all need it, and drink water. Take your medicine if you have any. Maybe go for a walk in the morning. You're not screwed yet, make the most of it

[empre55-alexandra]

It's hard not to be extremily pessimistic about the future now that Trump is the US President-Elect.

But depite that, I'd like to try to provide some hope and comfort to my fellow Trans and Neurodivergent folks across the pond who are now panicking about what a second Trump Administration means for them. There are going to be extremily difficult times ahead, 'Project 2025' is a truly horrific and dystopian vision for the future afterall.

Now, there is always the choice to leave, if you have the means to do that. But I'm confident in saying that the majority don't have that opportunity. So, while the fight and struggle ahead will take it's toll and will require sacrifice, resist at every opportunity you can. Protest, petition, harrass your representitives to oppose oppressive and bigoted bills, even if the most you can manage or afford without risking your safety or your mental and physical health is to post online and encourage others to take IRL action in your stead, then you will be doing the best you can and that's all anyone can ask of you.

Stay safe and I love you all.

[snailchimera]

Speaking as someone who was able and willing to get the fuck out of Florida, it was the right thing to do and I don't regret it, but it fucking hurts. I miss my home. I miss my shitty toxic eutrophic bayou and my lizard neighbors and liveoaks with Spanish moss and palmettos and honeysuckle that is probably invasive and tiny stubborn canebrakes and sandy patches of scrub. I miss bugs, which is not a thing I would have predicted saying, not because I dislike bugs but because it never occurred to me that other places were so bug-deficient. I miss the cluster of left-adjacent people ranging from peace-and-love Unitarians to the serious union folks or the people running a grocery co-op that actually functioned as a grocery store normal people could buy food at to the folks fixed on one specific problem like housing or healthcare to the anarchists and the socialists and the queer community spread through all of the above and That One Communist whose sole purpose in life seemed to be hawking a newspaper, all clustered together because you can't afford to splinter into two billion different factions in a conservative town full of gun nuts, and honestly probably being a more functional group because of it. I miss streets and buildings that used to be fixtures in my life, landmarks that told me exactly where I was. I miss stupid small things like the art on my library card, the sound of a road, an absolutely objectively terrible park that was always full of glass and spent fireworks the day after New Years or the 4th of July. I miss my best friend from middle/high school (though we're still in touch), and at least a couple members of my family, and my dad's weird friend who wrote absolutely godawful political poetry and hand painted beautiful cards for holidays and once tried to steal my pet turtles to turn them loose in the nearby river (which would have been bad as they were a nonnative species).

I have missed multiple funerals I should have been at and I don't think I'm ever really going to get closure for that.

I've been living up north for over a decade now and the air still tastes wrong. The seasonal shifts here are beautiful, but in the way an alien planet is. It is literally physically impossible to acquire a decent orange or orange juice that tastes like it's actually meant to be a consumable foodstuff here, and I didn't even grow up in orange growing country so it's not like my standards are fresh-picked-today high.

And I didn't really leave a community behind the way OP would have to. I was always pretty isolated, all things considered.

I'm out of Florida, and also alive in general, because an internet friend took me in and inexplicably hasn't kicked me out yet. That's not a viable plan for most people. And, although I am spending more money than I can really afford to renew a passport I've never used, it's very unlikely I'd be able to find sanctuary in another country with my disability, spotty work history, and lack of money. Even if I could, there are people I can't leave behind.

I do think you should get a passport if you can. If you have the money, help other people get one too. It's useful documentation, and if it comes down to it... a Hail Mary escape plan is still better than waiting to die. But the people brave enough to keep fighting for their homes aren't stupid, and the places they love are worth fighting for. The people who can't leave are not acceptable losses. And most red states are red because of deeply entrenched systems of disenfranchisement and suppression.

Just care about people.

I see a lot of posts along the lines of, "people stay in Florida because they can't afford to leave," in reference to both climate disasters and Republican politicians.

I don't see enough, "because it's their home, and leaving under such conditions is traumatic, even if they can afford to drop everything and leave."

I wish people would stop telling me "just move" when I talk about the problems I want to fix. I wish people would stop telling me "it's a sunk cost, you should just leave" when I try to encourage political participation and community involvement. I wish people would stop asking me "lmao why" when I say that I love Florida. I wish people would stop asking me if I "need help leaving" when I have never declared any intention to do so, and have been quite vocal about how happy I was to move back to Florida after a long time away.

I know this land, I know this community, I have deep roots here. I'm tired of everyone telling me to rip them up and "just leave" when I'm trying so goddamn fucking hard to try and help make things better.

You might just see a gross swamp full of rednecks, but I see the sides you refuse to. I see the humanity, I see the communities banding together, I see the beauty, I see the hope. I see the climate activists advocating for our people and our environment, engineering new ways to mitigate hurricanes and update our infrastructure. I see the groups fighting for immigrant rights, racial justice and reparations, affordable housing, organized labor, abortion access, and disability justice. I see the queer organizations carving out space and helping trans people access healthcare. I see people fighting DeSantis tooth and goddamn nail at every single opportunity. I see the reasons to keep fighting for this place that everyone else has written off as a cheap punchline.

I wish y'all would stop ignoring us when there isn't a deadly hurricane or a Florida Man headline, and I wish y'all would stop treating Floridians like we're either helpless victims or horrible bigots with zero in-between.

Some of us are doing our damnedest to make things better. Some of us love Florida with every fiber of our being. Some of us think of Florida, and before anything else, we think "that's home."

It feels pretty fucking bad to constantly see people say your home should be abandoned. It feels pretty fucking bad when the entire rest of the world refuses to see your home as anything but a joke or a problem.

Florida is beautiful. Florida is my home. I'm going to fight for it no matter how many people reading this think I should just pack up and abandon it.

[ghostiemothp1mp]

|BREAKING: HAZBIN SEASON 2 LEAKS FLOOD THE INTERNET!|

You heard right folks! There was a breach at A24 and Spindlehorse toons resulting in almost the entirety of season two being leaked onto several platforms but mainly Tik tok. While something similar happened last year when Hell's Greatest Dad got leaked, this time it was to a much greater scale, including several songs, animation clips, and more spoilers than imaginable.

Yes, this is disastrous for Spindlehorse and the entirety of Hazbin Hotel as show. In fact, we're lucky that Hazbin hasn't been dropped from Amazon all together. A lot of times when a breach this big happens, the show just get cancelled, but Amazon has stated that their legal team is trying their best to clean this up and find the perpetrator who did this.

However, the leaks are spreading like wildfire and the amount of views and shares is growing by the minute. The best thing that is fans and viewers can do is NOT SHARE. DO NOT SHARE. DO NOT WATCH IF YOU CAN HELP IT! AND REPORT REPORT REPORT! If you come across spoilers of ANY kind—for example, footage, song clips, fanart—REPORT IT IMMEDIATELY AND GET IT TAKEN DOWN.

Now, you might say, "but spoilers aren't a big deal! I wanna know what happens!" Believe me, we are all excited for the next season, but we need to find out what happens the RIGHT way. I will not be sharing exactly what was leaked because I do not want to feed the fire, but the leaks released kind of ruin the show cuz a) they don't make sense cuz they are just random bits and pieces and b) it makes it a lot harder for Spindlehorse to even keep the show and fandom going. We are extremely lucky that Amazon is even keeping the show, please PLEASE help Spindlehorse keep it that way!

According to Spindlehorse, they believe that the person who leaked the footage was actually someone either on their team or on A24, in other words, this was an inside job. Whoever did this had full intention of sabotaging the success of this show from within, either to serve their own nefarious purposes or someone else's. Currently we don't have any more information on it, but hopefully Amazon's legal team can find the culprit and punish them accordingly.

Okay, so, some footage got leaked. What's the big deal? Well, I didn't go that in depth as to the real effects of the leak earlier, but I will do so now. First of all, it's one of the biggest breaches a show has seen in a WHILE. Including hundreds of shots, MULTIPLE musical numbers, and character reveals that were not planned drops. What does this mean exactly? Well for starters, we probably won't be seeing any more con teasers or sneak peeks. Remember the Baxter teaser? Yeah, that probably won't be happening again. Second of all, I have already seen the fandom start to slowly fall apart on Tik Tok, hundreds of videos talking about how angry they are, not just about the show being spoiled in the first place, but the content of the spoilers themselves. People are already saying how furious they are about the twists and turns the show is taking, without even considering the fact that these leaks don't even contain the full context. Third of all, as the leaks spread and fanart and edits and cosplays of the spoilers flood the internet, the likelihood of Hazbin growing in popularity and hype with the release of season two grows slim. Nobody will be super excited about the "big reveals" next season because they've already been spoiled. Yes, this is pretty disastrous, not just to Hazbin as a cartoon, but to the fandom as well.

That is why we must take action! We must aid Spindlehorse and Amazon in the clean up by not sharing the spoilers. We must aid them by not creating fanart or edits or reaction vids or cosplays of spoilers either. We must aid them by reporting these videos and getting them taken down. We can save Hazbin, but we have to work together.

If anyone sees this post, please share. Please help stop this madness and keep things that should be secret, secret.

[smilesatdawnmain]

Ask the Character (3)

Here we go again!!

Previous

Next

Same rules as before. You’ll put your question in the comments, and I’ll update this post with the answer and comment back to let you know :3

——

Today we are asking a little sweetie!

The Day the World Eclipsed Qi Xiaotian/MK.

(Remember folks~ he’s 5 😆)

Answers and Questions below:

@phoenixeclipse-lmkau

"Awe, such a cutie 💓. What's your favorite food bud?"

------

@lemonboywriter

"Do you like sweets? I have plenty left over from Halloween Just don't tell your dads. :33"

-----

@elenaprime6

"Out of your collection of toys/plushies. Which one is your favorite beside Ke?"

------

@elenaprime6

"Can I get your best battle cry? 💛"

----

@youre-awesome96

"Hey buddy, if you were to get a little sibling, would you want a baby brother or sister?"

------( I liked how I did MK's ears best here. So I'm sticking with this style of ears) -----

-----------

@cosmodust3

"What is your favorite thing to do in the whole world lil buddy?"

-----------

@shiomik

"Hi little sky, If you could choose anything in the world, what would you choose? By the way, here *gives him a notebook and crayons* so you can continue feeding the little artist inside you!"

(He loves the notebook and crayons a lot!!)

------

[rey-jake-therapist]

Interview of JD Payne and Patrick McKay, about Elrond's decision to put on Nenya to save Galadriel :

Am I the only one who doesn't understand "best friend is maybe reducing their relationship too much. Say the person for whom he has so much love (...)" as the show runners saying that Elrond loves Galadriel romantically ?

Idk, it's like when anti Haladriel shippers take Charlie's comment that what Galadriel and Sauron have is "more than a romance" as a claim that it's not romance at all.

I may be stupid, but as far as I'm concerned, if you tell me that Galadriel is "more than a best friend" for Elrond, I interpret it as you saying that their bond is extremely strong, almost like a sister/brother bond. It's even stronger than a classic friendship. Stronger than his friendship with Durin, probably.

If you tell me that Galadriel and Sauron's relationship is "more than romance", I will interpret it as you saying that it goes beyond anything I can imagine in terms of earthly romance, and not as you saying that there aren't elements of romance in it.

I don't know where this generally admitted that "romantic love" is superior to "platonic love" comes from, but I'm tired af of seeing it. "They're more than best friends" = "they're in love". Why ? Why would romance be the superior step ? Some people have friendships that last all their life, while they had multiple romantic partners because romantic love almost always fades at some point. How is romantic love superior to friendship then? Why would a romantic partner count more than a best friend who you knew most of your life.

THAT SAID, LOL, I wonder how I can still kid myself. These people are probably right, as there was definitely an Elrondriel agenda behind Galadriel and Elrond's relationship in season 2. There was nothing platonic about *that* kiss, and it can't have been a pure esthetic choice, after *that* kiss, that Elrond acted as if he was marrying Galadriel in the finals.

He's even got only one ring, on his left hand, so this picture gives even more wedding vibes lmao.

It could even be said that it was foreshadowed in season 1, even if their interactions seemed very platonic to me. I'm quite certain that Elrondriel would have been a much more popular ship if Elrond wasn't supposed to marry Galadriel's daughter.

Will it lead them to erase Celebrian from history and make Galadriel Arwen's mother ? It was Tolkien's original idea, after all. It would make certain very agressive fans of the bland NPC mad, which I wouldn't be against tbh, and it would resolve the "wtf do we do with the NPC problem, at least. Because, it's definitely a problem. 8 episodes per season, a character who has no utility in the story except to be the main character's husband, but who has to be introduced in a way that the audience understands why he was presumed dead and suddenly shows up... Make Elrond Galadriel's husband, and you solve the problem !

I'm only half-joking, folks. It would considerably break the lore, but would it be a big deal, really ? I'm not sure I'd be against it, tbh. Anything's better for me than "Elrond's secretly in love with Galadriel, they will never act on it but since he can't have the mother, he'll settle for her daughter" future the show seems to have set up.

[netscapenavigator-official]

I'm sorry if I alarmed or worried any of you last night. I've had some time to sleep... what few hours I got. Now that the dust is starting to settle, I find myself asking, "what now?" The reality is donning, and no amount of fantasy, wishing, or hoping is going to change it. So what now?

I think this election demonstrated something I've been worried was true for a long time: The only allies we truly have are ourselves. Women, queer folk, people of color? At the end of the day, the only people we can truly trust to be there for us are those in the same shoes we are. The Democrat party, our once only major ally in American politics, is in pieces. I don't know if it'll ever be able to meaningfully repair itself. If it can't, I don't know if a new party will replace it in time for future elections. If there will be any. We are alone, now, and this election marks a new truth: The allies we once had aren't there anymore, and if they are, they don't care enough about us to show up for us. So what now?

Well... maybe we disappear from the public view for a while. Maybe we go underground for a while. Maybe we have to hide who we are and live in secrecy... but what else is new?

When has it ever been easy to be us? When have we ever faced a day where hate and dehumanization, on a systematic level, weren't on the table. To be who we are means to be at the receiving end of what happened last night. So what now?

We will survive. We will fly under the radar. Some of us will die. It's an unfortunate truth, but we can't do anything about it now. The best we can do is do what those before us did: Keep on going. Queer people, women, people of color? We'll band together. Maybe not all together. Maybe in each of the three communities. I don't know. We don't have politicians and we don't have allies anymore. All we have is each other. But we are the Tardigrades of the social political world. We will endure.

Whether with public support or without, we will find ways to exist and thrive. The people of color, the women, the queer folk before us... they all went through the ringer too... and they survived. Not only that, but many of them thrived.

Things may be fucked on a systematic level, but we're far smaller than the prying eyes of the government can see. They don't see people. They see groups. And so, as an individual, you can thrive in personal ways. Maybe the world of politics is hell. That doesn't meant you have to give up on your hobbies. That doesn't mean you have stop loving those you do. That doesn't mean you have to stop petting your cat. That doesn't mean you have to stop reading books. That doesn't mean you have to stop looking out your window and going, "what a beautiful day!" That doesn't mean that you have to stop enjoying anything.

Life is complex. It's multi-faceted. Some doors may close on the joys we once had, but new ones will open. Excitement will come from places you never saw yourself in. Joy will still come from the small, mundane things you already love.

It's impossible to understand what we're in for. And so, the best thing we can do is stop catastrophizing. Let the horrors find you and spend the meantime making the best of it. Don't anticipate stuff and spend the rest of your time being miserable. Maybe the time you have left is short. Maybe it's long. Maybe it's somewhere in between... That doesn't mean you have to give up on making the best of it. Thrive, if not for yourself, then out of spite for those who pray on your downfall.

Be happy. Be kind. Like the minorities before us... we will survive. A bad government doesn't mean we have to live a bad life. I wish you all the best. Stay safe. <3

[cooldelusionmoon]

I didn't want to do this rant because I felt like it was tasteless. But.....If you voted against Dems because of Palestine or didn't vote at all....

You are a fucking idiot.

Trump doesn't give a damn about Palestine. If anything, I'm more sure of him helping Putin than doing anything for Palestine. Which is more bloodshed. The most he would do is have us mind our business. Meaning we wouldn't help nor hinder either side. Which isn't helpful to Palestine either tbh.

What bothers me the most is that you didn't help your people. That's the worst part about it, you were willing to hurt YOUR people. What does taking away our rights do for them? Do for your cause? Not a lot of people want to admit this because it's shitty but there WILL be people who will remove their support for Palestine because of your stupid high road standards. You have put a bad taste in the mouths of A LOT of people who were helping or were willing to.

If people don't pull their support from that, they'll do it because they can't afford to help anymore. A lot of people plan to flee America and a lot with have to relocate within America to find a safer state. These things are expensive, and for a lot of people, they feel like they have to do so.

I can yap on an on but I'll finish with this. When I voted, I voted with my best interest in mind. With my possible kids in mind. My husband in mind. My sister. My grandmother. My uncle. Etc, etc. My concern was on our safety. And some folks might call me selfish, and I am okay with that. If we are getting killed by the police? How can we protest for you? If we are dying in the hospital parking lot? How can we protest for you? The answer is, We can't.

When you're in a plane that's going down, masks will drop down. In this case, you are to put on YOUR mask before anyone else's. Because if you're dead, you can't help others. The same rules apply.

[spotaus]

yipppeeee!!!!

Skipping a bit, but yes!! A lot of why Nightmare trusts who he does and makes rash decisions across his rule (and why he can be so confident, and that his paranoia is usually silly stuff) is because of that emotional empathy!! I think he probably had several sessions with Ccino (or even Killer for that matter, though both of them are very convincing liars) where he basically played two truth and a lie to see if he could parse out and recognize how his magic was sensing lies vs. truths! So, by the time the more pressing folks, Cross and Error, come along? Night is very very confident he can tell the truth from lies, and recognizes that Error isn't lying.

Even though it's *technically* not the truth, considering he does have Geno and Fresh, but in his current mindset, those two aren't his family anymore, and Nightmare can recognize the grief and conviction and assumes his family might have died, so he ignores that nagging feeling of something being off because it's not a lie. (And he's like. 100000% blindsided with the Geno reveal- because??? Error has no family, what are you doing? WHAT DO YOU MEAN THAT"S YOUR BROTHER????)

The bit about the payment really is so chill too, because Error's a very stationary monster (doesn't really feel a rush to go anywhere new, he likes this home!!) and Nightmare has been really reallly good about providing him with everything he could want or need, so it just turns into Error having the sweetest idea EVER. And ofc he recruits the other into it!! I like to think they meet up in the war room while someone (probably Dust, because he's the least helpful for romance atp) hangs with Night and distracts him. And Error and the others start planning and budgeting and brainstorming. And across the table Ccino gives Killer one of those looks like 'Don't you dare let them out of your sight' and Killer gives a look back like 'Duh'. And it's just so lovely of all of them and a good distraction from the chaos that's been happening at that point!

With Night that's 100% the energy I want to go for! He's very much willing to sacrifice himself (no shocker, considering his palm scar + the whole prophecy thing) for those he cares about! And, unfortunately, Error is exactly the demographic he was hoping to avoid influencing, because! Like your said! The Ccino thing! But he does well, and even though it still might not be the best anyone's ever done it (Night is NOT a parent, and Ccino can't raise a whole second kid) but Error comes out of it so so happy and confident and decently adjusted, so who is anyone to judge?

For Dream and Blue I really wasn't sure lol, but I feel like it'd just be the perfect pair of people to really manage it. Night wouldn't want to put that sort of responsibility onto his Knights (he loves and trusts them, but only one of them (Horror) had a semblence of a healthy childhood, minus the famine ofc. And 2/4 were criminals. Dream on the other hand? He and Blue care so deeply about the people, on a 1 to 1 basis, and like u said Dream can still feel emotions, so if there were any places his check-in crews felt were sketchy, he could pop in and figure out if it's just a kid acting up, or if something was really wrong and needed fixed! (Also I can totally picture that Night wouldn't be above asking for this one thing from Dream between his adventuring dreams, considering all he's done. He doesn't think Dream needs to pay any debts to him ofc, siblings help siblings, but it'd be nice to have support. So, Dream helps! And where Dream goes, Blue goes, because they are inseperable :] )

Mhm! I love the ideas of when a character in a place of power is made to put a vulnerability out there in the hopes that they can get to the people before their enemies turn them against them. With Dream's disappearance and his time in the camp, it's a ticking timebomb before people think Nightmare is falling ill, or unfit to rule, or try to stage a coup that will get a lot of people hurt unneededly. He trusts that his Knights can defend him from any physical attacks, so he has to hope and pray that the actions and the voices of the people he had helped so far were enough to carry him through. (And largely, they were!) (And yeah, it helps that Error is like super duper committed to lingering around. Like. He is THERE. In the same way Blue and Dream were so obviously a couple, Night and Error are the ones who show very little pda so everyone is just like 'kiss already!!!' when they've been courting for like. Half the year already lmao.)

And for those who disappear. Well, Night never ordered any killings. However, Killer is fairly trigger happy, and Dust hates flying rumors and loose ends. They have free will :]

Oughhh. This Dust bit is what consumed me earlier- So, I think that for his narrative I'm going to take a route that will follow more closely the idea that Dust's parents were decent people just trying to help him! (Very much going with the His Soul needed more Magic and so the magic was woven into a Spell itself, connecting to the Weather- so thank you for that!) So. Dust was raised outside of Nim's kingdom, probably just in the neighboring one. In an unassuming town, and, for the fun of it, let's say his family is like. The medieval equivalent of middle-class. Surviving, but not exhorbanently thriving. His parents loved him and his brother dearly, but Dust was weird. He was born... let's say early. His soul was missing a LOT of magic that he'd need to live, but somehow, through a lot of careful watchin, he lived. He wasn't sickly, but he was very very frail, and tinier than anyone expected him to be, especially when his parents were both taller. Then came along Papyrus when he was young. With his health being dangerous, his father wanted a back-up heir just in case, and so his brother, Phantom, was born. Perfectly healthy. And the brothers were super super close. (Think, normal canon Paps and Sans, where Dust is 'lazy' thanks to his obnoxiously low magic/hp while Phantom carries him around, jokes with him, treats him just like any other monster.) And when Dust is in his mid-teens, his magic suddenly starts declining rapidly. Like, his growth spurt just. Sapped what little extra magic he had that was keeping him out of a comatose state. And so his parents used emergency funds to get him help from a mage they'd been speaking to. Finding that natural basis of magic (storms) to ground Dust's magic somewhere and let him draw from it.

And it worked, and Dust survived. But anytime he'd be distressed, silently or not, it'd bring a storm to town. A storm which started ruining crops. Started flooding businesses. Sweeping away a few herd animals once. Ad Dust couldn't figure out how to control the latent amount of magic that had been gifted to him in order to make this spell a part of his being. No matter how hard he tried, it seemed that so long as there were natural storms, his emotions and magic would elevate right with it. His last straw was when his storm struck his brother with a lightning bolt, downing more than half his hp and leaving a nasty singe scar along his shoulder and arm bones. He couldn't stand to hurt his family anymore, and looked into the rumors of the neighboring kingdom. A place with no storms, no rains, nothing. That should be impossible, so it was definitely magical, and he swore to his family that he was just going to find work, send money back to them, and stop causing them so much trouble. (None of them wanted him to leave, least of all Phantom)

So he went, and he found that the moment he crossed the land border, that the storm which had been literally following him since he left his home? Yeah, it full-stopped. He still had immense amounts of magic for his little body, sure, but the storm was gone. His plan had worked. So he finds work, accidentally gets recruited by the black market (because they think he's a weak lil baby), proves himself and accidentally starts running a branch of said black market because he's strong, and he has a strong will to live and survive, and send things back home so his family knows he's safe.

And then, when Nightmare takes over and stops doing the rituals? At this point Dust has had time to do the proper training to control his magic, control the spell without the consiquences of the storms being immediate (only mustered through vague dampness in a room before). But when Night lets loose that good weather spell, and good chunk of the storms are because Dust is learning to put all of his practice into use. And he is a LOT of pent up emotion. He's just lucky noone with magic senses as good and Night were around him at the time to pin things on him. And by the time he's caught, he's much much better at consealing it, and it is indeed why he needs the 4 magic dampeners!!!

Anyways yeah. I think there should be a side-story where Dust goes to visit them, or asks Night to invite them to the castle, maybe both but the visit home first, and just. Dust insisting Nightmare come with (not much is important to him, but he fears if he comes back like he is, that if he gets rejected, he might not take it well. Plus he wants to introduce his King (his other little brother) to his family so they know he's been safe for a good chunk of time). And like. He gets there to town, and before they even get to the house, his brother is outside working with like. Sheep or something. And there's the start of a drizzle completely fueled by Dust's fear and happiness at seeing his little brother all grown up, for the first time in almost 15 years. And Phantom looks up, super confused at the light rain because it had been sunny before, and then he looks around and spots Dust and there's this moment of utter confusion, then recognition, then *Dust* approaches and they have this sad but happy reunion. Phantom ushers Dust (and Night, without much question) to the house and his parents are older, but still alive, and life just enters their eyes when they recognize their little boy. Their son. Alive and seemingly well. (Nightmare is glad he got to be there to see Dust with his family, and though he has this moment of worry, acceptance, that Dust might just choose to stay? Dust proceeds to tell his family how important it is that he stay with Nightmare, how much he's grown, how much he's been able to grow. Etc. (Also Phantom is Dust's best-man at the Dustedafterdeath ceremony. Because like. idc how unrealistic, these poly losers are getting married- Also Killer is jealous he doesn't get to be best man.)

Okay sorry I got really off-track there lmao- But!! I love the idea that Dust has this supportive family who he had to close himself away from in order to keep them safe, because they'd do anything to keep him alive and happy, and his self worth was NOT high enough to let them keep going like that.

Oh!! And I like to think Dust's soul has something wrong with it visually. Like. I think Dustedafterdeath all have weird souls. Geno still has his ripped apart lil sliver, I think Reaper's is a pure black (ironically the only part of him that can really be touched without technicalities) and Dust? I like to think that his is maybe his original soul (tiny and white) physically sown into a larger, spell-based mimic of a soul that is a dull sort of gray (also plays into his name, because sometimes he sheds his own dust from the magic having to recycle his cones faster, like humans w/ dead cells). So He's like. Super super not a fan of having it even remotely messed with.

Okay NOW I'm done!!!

You are SO right!!! Fresh wouldn't take the parasite trying to drag him back lying down. He thought his little brother was dead, he grieved for him!! He needs to hug his brother right this second, right now! Shut up parasite!!!

Oh the parasite would be so so confused (I love the idea of the shock from the storm spell-) and it's try to flee immediately because whatever that is is nasty, and owie, and ouchie, and evil! And Fresh is actively trying to fight against it. He needs to get to Error! (Probably a very visual and very outward expression on Fresh's end. Like, The parasite pulls him back and makes him move super unnaturally and he's so fed up that he like. Is just fighting for control and jittering and flinching and trying his best to convey to Error that this is NOT him. Because he hand Geno never told Error the full story! They wanted to protect him until he was older! And. And then he ran away when he was young.

And dude, yeah, Geno would be super cautious ur on point. Definitely thin, thin ice. They're only next to each other in the room because Error asked them both to be there (and also maybe Ccino and Nightmare) because they mean a lot to him. Geno would recognize it, and have to choose his battle very, very wisely. He can't risk excluding Dust, but he can't risk letting Error think that Fresh hates him.

Now that I'm thinking about it. It'd be SUPER funny if Fresh was so persistent in trying to get to Error, and Dust's magic hurt so much to ambiently consume? That the young spirit learns for the first time how to shut off its ambient magic consumption. And when it does it's like a switch is flicked and Fresh just like faceplants for a second, letting the weirdness of the lack of magic consumption process, before he ignores it and rushes to Error. (It's a problem for him to figur out later, to explain later, but for now it's gone and that means he can be near his brother again! The paraite figured it out like 5 years too late, but it happened-) And Fresh just bowls him over into a bear hug (and Error braces himself for it so it's less painful and explosive than usual, but even as he does start to feel it, he refuses to let go of Fresh, so it's a mutual hug).

Dust really did pull them with his magic swag <3 (especially if I keep this last bit in, because then he Supports Error, made Geno rethink his harmful habits, and speedran a learning curve that would've taken the parasite a century in the first 5 minutes of meeting Fresh-)

Waughhhhh Ccino looking out for Error!!!! This works so well too because. Well. Everyone in the castle was forced to grow up too soon. Night for.. obvious reasons. Ccino for... also obvious reasons. Killer being the true orphan of the group (gonna expand on this in a post later-). Horror having to work sooner in youth to help provide food. Dust and his weird magic issues. Cross being a literal child soldier. None of them got to be kids, and most of them hardly think about it! Nightmare and the others, though not intentionally, are treating Error like an adult already, because it's all they know. And here's Error, a kid, and Ccino takes the chance to make sure Error knows that he can be a kid. he can be silly, and pursue his interests, and. Ohhhh. Like you said he's not the mage *yet*. He has years before any sembelance of responsibility falls on his shoulders. he has plenty of time. And this time Error seems relatively well adjusted, with few pressures, and now a decent, multiple-person support system. He can focus on being a positive force in Error's life, andd still enjoy himself! (Almost like letting his own inner lil kid out! To listen to Error and maybe even learn from him? Invested in the idea that Ccino learns to crochet or smth from Error. A nice hobby for him! (I could see him being the king of making lil stuffed animals. Makes a Cat for Killer. Horse for Dust. Leaves them on their beds with a nice lil note like "Hi, Just Ccino, it's not a bomb :]".)) And yeag about Ccino just really, really making sure Error knows he's wanted, but also that he can leave if he changes his mind.

Okay I'm done but!!! Ough Ancha as always ur points were so so tasty!!!!

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.” 

[yujeong]

Baptize me with new names so I can exist

Myrsini Gkana - I have other things I love too

[moiraimyths]

Before we call anon rude because let’s see it from their perspective, imagine getting an entire feast to eat. That can be pretty hard to start with so much that’s going on, but if they start with one thing they know they’ll like (aka one character they like) that can be the start for them leaping to other characters to finish the story and the bigger story. I struggle the same way to start book series if I don’t have at least one character that drives me to read it, it’s all about what can be the hook to push them through. Sounds like the anon is neurodivergent (just a guess) so they might genuinely not see it as rude and see it as a solution to even play the game to start with.

Btw absolutely adore the game, the complex and rich characters making them all so unique is amazing. The art is so pleasing to the eyes I love it!! I’m waiting for it all to get out at once so I don’t get too impatient. Shae however interests me the most, which routes will have the most lore for them? Will there be routes that give more lore in general based on decisions you make or do they all share the same amount? (I mean general lore not just Shae lore)

Apologies; we are not trying to accuse any asker of being rude! We are simply explaining our perspective as the developers / are trying to broadly encourage folks to dip their toes into other areas of the story outside of the main route(s) they're interested in, especially considering some routes will be made available sooner than others, and these other routes will likely contain additional scenes/lore of everyone's fave(s) regardless! We want to give each main cast member an equal amount of love (and lore) regardless of their overall popularity, so our goal is not to tut-tut anyone for having strong preferences for one character over the others, but rather to explain that you may be surprised by how much *more* you learn about your preferred characters in the other routes. That's all!

For Shae... Well, they were a foot soldier for one of the worst periods of the War. Lore wise, any other story that touches on the War will likely have content relevant to them and their experiences. ^^