#I loved this person In armour they were so enchanting lol

[algrenion]

i went to a 4 day retreat for Historical European Martial Arts enthusiasts (people who make Big Swords a sport) down in England, and i’ve frankly never come across a more welcoming gaggle of nerds in my life

[pulchrasilva]

HI I SAW IN THE TAGS YOURE MAKING A CHARACTER TELL ME ABOUT THEM (THREAT) (I AM SO NORMAL ABOUT DUNGEONS AND DRAGONS)

YES I'LL TELL YOU ABOUT MY CHARACTER (finally)

Ok ok so she's a tiefling warlock (i almost made her a bard but then I realised I was just trying to make Noise 2 so I went with warlock instead. It didn't work very well)

So anyway, her name's Requital but she doesn't trust most people so everyone knows her as Talia (RequiTALIA get it). She's pretending to be a noble and thats the name of her alter ego.

Shes chaotic good and really hates the rich or anyone who takes advantage of others (even though she does it herself sometimes, shhh its tootally justified). I'd say her manner is like Janus Sanders but her like ideals are more Robin Hood. She loves stealing from people she thinks deserve it and she uses her noblewoman alterego to do that.

This is why Narula, an archfey, offered her a warlock pact. Narula is vengeful and wants to punish wrongdoers but she's been imprisoned in some kind of enchanted forest (this is my DMs backstory because for some reason we can't find any lore for Narula except her name) so she needed someone to do this for her. Obviously Requital was like hell yeah im doing that anyway, gimme powers. But if she gets too sidetracked or goes after someone Narula doesn't deem evil then she's gonna be in trooouble~

So yeah she's kinda bound to keep enacting her own form of justice on the world. BUT because she constantly surrounds herself with shitty people she's exacerbated her own trust issues and can't properly judge who deserves it anymore, which led to... problems.

She heard about a nobleman who was stockpiling wealth and assumed he was exploiting his people for his own gain. So she befriended him (she told herself that his kindness was just a facade like always) and stole all the money only to later learn that he wasn't hoarding the wealth. There was a blight plaguing his people and he'd been gathering funds to treat it. So by stealing the money, she'd actually prevented him from saving lives. More people died because of her AND she hurt someone who genuinely thought of her as a friend (and she maybe thought of as a friend too but she's not gonna admit that). So now she's trying to atone for that mistake.

All of her spells and stuff are about deception, illusion, disguise, etc (she's kinda useless in combat rip). So far she's made loads of people basically piss their pants with her Fey Presence. She's also scammed an elf diviner (i think they were a diviner at least?? They could tell the future and stuff) and managed to persuade them that she really was a noblewoman who was travelling and so didn't have much money with her but pretty please can she have that magic item she'll pay 25 of the 150 gold upfront and then have someone come back with the rest of the money soon (really hoping we don't see that elf again lol where am I gonna find 125 gold). One of the other party members overheard this and called bullshit so I had to roll with disadvantage but I nat 20ed and did it anyway!! (Obviously she's really pissed about that and is now holding blackmail over him)

Oh and in our session today she Fey Presence-ed a guy and then the SAME PERSON just BARGED IN and knocked out HER PRISONER!!!! and she's furious so she tried to kill him (multiple times) but his armour class is so high that all she managed to do was waste a spell slot and nearly stab herself lmao. Imagine a really angry kitten trying to scratch you but being held by the scruff of the neck thats her right now

In terms of appearance she's like kinda tall and pretty weak. Her skin is dark with bronze freckles and her eyes are jet black, her horns and tail are bronze and she wears her hair in long black locs which fade to red at the ends. Since getting to level 2 though one of her eyes has turned purple (like Narula's) and her horns have become more fey-like but she's been hiding this using Disguise Self so only she knows about it.

[pelideswhore]

Bestie I have a Greek mythos question for you! Remember you made a post about Achilles and other warriors realistically having short hair? In my copy of the Iliad (translated by Richard Lattimore) the Achaeans are referred to as “flowing-haired” and I’m confused now lol

i totally forgot about this, sorry lmao

and yeah! there are many things that play into this, so i'm just gonna go through them

first of all, it's kind of like an epithet. 'flowing hair' is associated with greeks so much, it's kind of become a second name to them, even if they don't have long hair in the given situation. like how when you call apollo 'the far-shooting', it doesn't mean he is currently shooting far, yknow?

secondly: style. technically, short hair is definitely safer for soldiers, but long hair was considered stylish. i can defintely imagine many found the benefit of looking good was more important than the risk that they might lose their life, especially if they were confident in their fighting (or they had no direct contact with the enemy, like many medics or archers; Ajax' troops are even described to have fought with no armour).

also, cutting hair (like i said in the post you mentioned) is kinda like part of ritual out of respect for the dead. obviously, many people died, because we're talking about a war. if you want to cut your hair, you need to let it grow first, to a certain length at least. lots of soldiers were probably in this transitioning phase.

last but not least, the trustworthiness of homer's descriptions is debatable. i absolutely love his writing and i find the descriptions amazingly precise and enchanting, but the adjectives he uses are kinda weird. he literally calls people 'blue' at some points. this is because adjectives didn't define the appearance of a person, they characterized them. 'Blonde' Achilles really just means fast, 'black' Odysseus means smart. Meanwhile, calling a man 'white' is to call him effeminate. So 'flowing-haired' might really be nothing more than characterization. (source)

thank you for the ask! this was fun to type up :D

[to-many-towered-camelot]

book notes

for anyone who is interested in a nuanced take on fairy beliefs vs the Christian Church in the Middle Ages, this book by Richard Firth Green was actually so good, if your library has it:

[Image: Front cover of the book ‘Elf Queens and Holy Friars: Fairy Beliefs and the Medieval Church’ by Richard Firth Green]

like, obvs it’s just one person’s take on a very complex topic, but it’s well-written, well-researched, and it uses a bunch of Arthurian examples throughout to explore this dynamic (see under cut)

really interesting exploration of how the Church’s response evolved from the early-High Middle Ages (”dude, you believe in fairies? hhhmmm, do penance for 10 days”) to the Late Middle Ages/Early Modern Period (”kill them for heresy and witchcraft!”) 

and how it enfolded vernacular/fairy beliefs into Christian doctrine as fairies being either a) demons or b) the illusions of demons (and how dangerous/bad these demons were depended on the time/location/cleric in question - some packaged fairies as “neutral” demons who fell when the rebel angels did, and who must be punished on Earth but will return to Heaven on Doomsday - potentially doing this to soften things for their parishioners, who often held these fairy beliefs and reconciled them with Christianity, uh, differently than the Church officially would prefer)

and enduring belief in fairies existed in both common and aristocratic circles (can see this in medieval romances, although they’re not the only source of evidence), rather than just being used as cultural “decoration” by a more sceptical upperclass

aaaaand because of this conflation of fairy = demon, you get a really interesting blend/overlap with medieval demonology and enduring “folk” beliefs (obvs not all of medieval demonology was just rebranded fairies, but some of it defs was - you see stories being retold with “devil” instead of “elf”, for example)

INCLUDING in Arthuriana - how you get Morgan the Fairy (”le Fay”) vs Morgan who was raised in a nunnery and learned dark magic there, the Lady of the Lake as a (largely) positive force, Merlin inexplicably as a (perceived to be...) Good Guy despite being the literal antichrist, the Green Knight and all the overlap with Christian symbolism in that story, etc, etc. and they all just either??? co-exist in the same stories or appear through either more fay or more ~Christian lenses depending on the version

and it creates a very interesting and very confusing soup of Stuff stemming from a very confusing - and sometimes dangerous - soup of official and unofficial beliefs evolving over hundreds of years

anyway, WRT Arthuriana it’s got (and ymmv on these, but they’re all interesting thoughts):

(i think in Gottfried’s Tristan???) apparently Tristan has a rainbow fairy dog called Petitcriu...name a knight less deserving of such a Good Boy smh

Chretien’s Yvain flooding out Laudine at the fountain (...jerk) as a continuation of the beliefs surrounding a magical Spring at Barenton 

Gingalain moving from being the son of Gawain and the fairy Blanchemal (and having a fairy love interest, Pucelle) in the French OG version (~1200-ish) to being the son of Gawain and his human mistress (with Pucelle also being human) in a later 15th-C Middle English version)

AJDKN UJ IOE E Merlin’s conception, that one’s a wild ride - theologians REALLY didn’t like the idea of demons being fertile, and the work-arounds they came up with were...incredible. but skipping over that sheer comedy, the author draws links between Merlin’s conception and the general trend of claiming a fairy lover/whatever when a difficult-to-explain pregnancy arose. He also theorises that Geoffrey’s idea for Merlin’s father being a demon/fairy may have come from Nennius saying that Merlin/Ambrosius’ mother “never knew a man”. Later adaptations of this storyline made it even more fay-like (when they weren’t, like Robert de Boron, making it more fucked-up) by making Merlin’s father invisible (Wace) or a super attractive guy in swanky gold clothes (Layamon) - and Vortigern’s advisor explaining the creatures that lived between the earth and the moon until doomsday, etc, etc (walking that line between fairy and incubi, whichhhhhh was not clearly delineated in the Middle Ages the way it is now). also there’s one 13th-C Anglo-Norman poem where Merlin’s father is a bird that transforms into a dashing young squire, which isn’t terribly demon-y. So even though most versions of this story describe Merlin’s dad as an incubi-demon, what people understood this to mean may have been more fay-ish that we’d expect nowadays (depending on the reader, and also on authorial intention - some are pretty explicit that he’s a demon [many clerics keen to push this as the main narrative], while others refer to him as an elf or fairy). some contemporary scepticism during this time about Merlin having any sort of supernatural parentage as well

[none of the same Church anxieties about explaining away how the Plantagenets and other aristocratic families claim a female fairy ancestress - maybe bc there’s none of the stress about patrilineal bloodlines??? who knows! but yeah, much less thought given to those stories in ecclesiastical circles, and they were very popular in vernacular romances (male aristocratic wish fulfilment?). also, fairy enchantments =/= necromancy, so there are stories like the non-cyclic Lancelot where the Lady of the Lake is found out to be “a fairy by education, not by nature or heredity” (Elspeth Kennedy), with the spirits used in necromancy being demons, not fairies. also potential trend of female-associated magic becoming more passive and book-learned, gradually demonising it leading up to early-modern witch hunts.]

Geoffrey of Monmouth in his Historia and in the Vita Merlini being actually pretty circumspect about saying whether or not Arthur was alive/dead, returning/not returning, maybe due to his work/text being a (hypothesised) defence of the Welsh as being “civilised” (and having been so for centuries before the Normans came) - with the corollary that believing in Arthur’s return was somehow “uncivilised”. Author argues that this may be due to an association with fairy beliefs, and that Layamon is the one that makes Avalon explicitly fey. Also the author describes Arthur as living in a “feminised version of the Christian heaven” (iconic) and says that later writers and people could be very scornful of this belief held by the Britons/Welsh/etc, and that it was contrary to orthodox ways of thinking. 

Links the “discovery” of Arthur and Guinevere’s bodies in Glastonbury in the late 12th-C as similar to when individuals found the bodies of their loved ones, thus making it much harder to believe (and hope) that they were still alive in fairyland. Makes a suggestion that the monks in Glastonbury who “found” these bodies may have been trying to curry favour with the English crown (i.e. champion/hope of the Welsh isn’t coming back) but also may have been trying to “help”/”save”/correct the thoughts/ideology of the Welsh (i.e. “set them on the correct path to salvation”). Lots of medieval writers describing Arthur as living in “fairyland”. Precedent of people visiting fairyland and returning, so Avalon/fairyland =/= a place only for the dead (i.e. Arthur isn’t dead). An Arthurian example, albeit a less explicitly fay one, is Lancelot getting in and out of Gorre (with Gorre as a “typically supressed and rationalised” version of fairyland) in Chretien’s Knight of the Cart.

Some stuff about the wild horde (distinct from the wild hunt) being presented by some writers as very penitential (i.e. they are departed souls that may look like they’re bearing arms/hunting/whatever as they did in life, but really they are in agony e.g. because their weapons burn them) and tbh demonic (black armour, carrying torches, ominous aesthetic). Other writers thought maybe it was - once again! - demonic impersonators rather than actual mortal souls. (Should note also that the wild horde/wild hunt motifs were not always associated with their being dead). Relevant in the Arthurian context because Arthur and his court were sometimes associated with the idea of the wild horde (as in, sometimes the wild horde is described as Arthur’s court living it up in a cool, undying sort of way - “in the likeness of knights hunting or jousting, commonly known as the household of Hellequin or of Arthur” [Etienne de Bourbon, a medieval writer] - with Hellequin’s household often being used to encompass either the wild hunt or the wild horde). Ultimate point made by the author (props to him, he’s always like “if i’m right” lol) that for many clerical writers, it was very uncomfortable to leave people with the impression that Arthur and his court were living it up in fairyland (and similar for other figures associated with the wild hunt/horde) and this idea needed to be corrected/shaped to suit more orthodox perspectives - e.g. tying in with notions of purgatory, etc. 

Aaaand this one was exciting to me just bc i’ve vaguely heard about Arthur and his knights snoozing under a hill, but for some reason i could only remember this being in Victoria-era-and-onwards poetry. 3 versions of the same tale, where a servant looks for his master’s lost horse on a Sicilian mountain. Version 1) servant of a bishop finds his master’s horse in the beautiful palace of Arthur’s court beneath Mt Etna. Aside from the fact that the ancient wound Arthur received from Mordred opens once a year, it’s not very purgatory-like. Version 2) a dean’s servant is told by an old man that King Arthur has the horse on Mt Gyber (Mt Etna). he is told that his master must attend Arthur’s court in 14 days, but the dean laughs it off...then sickens and dies on the appointed day (whoops). Enough differences to this story compared to the first to suggest an oral circulation. Also a note in the version/text that such mountains are said to be the mouth of hell, and only the wicked are sent there, not the chosen. Version 3) Etienne again! Also likely changed with intervening oral circulation. The master is not an ecclesiastical figure, and Arthur’s palace is now a populous city - also Arthur is not referred to, just a nameless prince. There is a gatekeeper who warns the servant not to eat or drink while he’s there (that...is a very fairy-ish proscription). This mountain is apparently reputed to be the site of purgatory. The book author (Richard, i mean) ties these versions in with other stories/accounts of different entrances to purgatory (e.g. one on an island in an Irish lake) as being part of a gradual process of “rendering [...] fairyland purgatorial”. 

Finally, Gawain in Roman van Walewein: To get to an ‘earthly paradise’ [i.e. King Assentijn’s garden with its fountain of youth - side note that ‘earthly paradises’ were often popularly described to be fairyland/where fairies live, in addition to their theological functions, e.g. Avalon was sometimes described as an earthly paradise...i should also say that purgatory was frequently thought to be located beside earthly paradise, so there’s the proximity element] and the castle containing it, Gawain must cross a river (guided by a magical talking fox) that a) has waters that burn like fire, and b) can only be crossed by using a bridge sharper than a razor. His reaction? “Is it the enchantment of elves or magic / that I see?”. He is then guided by the fox underneath the river through a tunnel, and is told that the river’s source is in the depths of hell, and “[the river] is the true purgatory / All souls, having departed from the body / Must come here to bathe.” So it’s a very strong intermingling of fairy and purgatorial imagery/ideas!

I dunno, I just found this very ??? satisfying to read

it leaned towards lit-crit at times (which, considering the subject matter, is honestly fair enough), but it was more respectful of vernacular beliefs than so many other academic takes i see (ofc ymmv re: anything to do with non-Christian major religions, but i think the author’s pretty solid on this!), and it had an explanation for the survival of these beliefs that imo made a lot of sense, especially from a pan-European perspective, not just a Celtic one 

plus it explored the undeniable damage done by Christianity over history without making up some “ranged battle between paganism and the Church” that i see  e v e r y w h e r e  in casual Arthurian circles...which, like, i empathise with the vibe, but also! that’s just straight-up historical revisionism! (i blame MZB and the 80′s for that one)

(there was a fantastic post floating around a while ago about how the religious syncretism in Arthurian literature is much more interesting than peeling away all of the Catholicism in the medieval lit (...you ?? don’t end up with much left?) and saying that this is more “accurate” to some obscure original)

anyway yeah yeah ymmv but it’s v interesting 😊

[dnfshield]

okay im posting my first and most important syndicate!dream propaganda !! if people are interested ill def post the rest

and because I'm delusional all of this hinges on that I want dream to actually be upset and brocken 💔🥀 and desperately needing help and not wanting to let anyone help him because connections bad blah blah but I know cc dream doesn't have the range and is also a coward so I have to do everything for him 

its under a read more bc its 1.4k words lmao

I think it takes dream a while to process being out of prison even though he should be taking advantage of his new freedom and new space. he spends a lot of time in his room just laying in his blankets or curled up under his bed or memorizing all the shelves of stuff techno left in the spare room. And philza and techno silently agree to make sure dream is getting socialization - knowing that he desperately needs the connection but is unsure how to go back to being ALLOWED to be around others. So they take turns going to his room at night and just finding literally anything to do in his presence. Phil likes to read the old books techno left in there. And when he sees dream peeking over he'll mutter something about how ""reading it out helps me think"" and will quietly read allowed to dream. Or he'll go sit at the desk with a creaky chair and write letters to the woman he loves, gushing over memories and sharing snippets of stories to dream. Phil sits there with a dopey smile and blushy cheeks and dream sits there letting his words sink in - knowing too late that he should never have convinced himself that pushing everyone he loved would somehow save him. 

Technos more pacey- he likes to go in there and ""reorganize"" the miscellaneous objects he left in what was supposed to be a storage space turned bedroom. Sometimes it's stacks of pages ripped from old journals sometimes it's failed blueprints and plans sometimes it's old potion bottles that definitely got left a little too long and should NOT be opened - but whatever it is techno will grab it and ramble on about what he was thinking what he was planning why it didn't work and scramble to find an excuse as to why he's chosen to hoard whatever the object is rather than throw it away like a normal person. But dream just sits there and listens and asks questions or asks to hold whatever it is - honestly whatever he can do to keep techno from going to bed and leaving him in his room alone. 

Lol okay the actual real important one that started all this is that dream eventually starts outwardly showing signs of distress when alone. At first he reeled when others would try to be around him. He still dealt with the conditioning of never being allowed to have regular visitors and being told everyone he ever knew wanted him dead. But once he realized Phil and techno were not only safe to be around but were happy to be around him he couldn't get enough of them. Dream lingers in the kitchen while philza cooks them all breakfast. He follows techno around while he haphazardly goes through chests looking for a specific enchanting book. He cracks his window so he can hear techno and philza laughing together while they sharpen their weapons on the porch :*) . And on especially bad days where something reminds him of the scorching lava flow or he gets turned around in a space too suffocatingly small he waits up because he knows philza or techno will come and wait with him at night. 

And it's the evening that sam knocks on their door that sends dream into overdrive. The second techno opens the door and philzas eyes fall on Sam's armour Phil places a gentle hand on dreams back and ushers him to his room. Techno stands with his frame in the door physically keeping a barrier in-between sam and their home and eventually gets Sam to begrudgingly leave. But when philza goes to check on dream before bed it's obvious dream sat there listening to techno and Sam yell and threaten each other over his life. So Phil skips whatever ploy to keep dream company that he had planned and just sits on his bed with him. He doesn't even say anything besides the classic "it's alright please don't be scared" and "he's not taking you away from here" and "you're safe here, with us, you're safe with me and techno" and blah blah and with every passing whisper dream just drifts closer and lets philza be there with him and philza let's dream lean against him because he knows how badly dream needs the comfort and he's more than happy to be there for him ( -sobs- can philza become a better dad in canon we could've have had it all ) . God okay and finally the important part all of this had been leading up to 

And after sitting there and letting dream lean on his shoulder and dodging dreams pleas to tell him how techno got sam off their property dream eventually quiets down. Every time dream stirs to break the silence philza squeezes his arm and let's him settle closer. Dream can barely keep his eyes open but when Phil tries to say goodnight and shift to stand up dreams eyes shoot open and asks if Phil's actually going to leave for the night because a million things are running through his mind. What if Sam only left to not cause a scene and plans to return after the others go to bed and take him with no one there to protect him. What if Sam only left to tell everyone where he is and return with a mob filled with the people dream himself made hate him. What if techno made a deal with sam - to return with diamonds or precious items in exchange to step aside and let dream he hauled away. But Phil only smiles softly and tells him that he's just gonna move to a new spot and dream just sits there and watches Phil settle at the headboard. Dreams eyes follow Phil's hand as he pats his stomach to becken dream to come lay down. Like okay guys please hear me out so dream settles with his head on philzas stomach kinda surrounded by Phil's legs like a little nest :-( while Phil just tells dream to relax and get some sleep. Phil's hand is a weight on his back and dreams just kinda melts. And as dream finally let's himself wind down he thanks Phil for being there with him. philza takes in a breath and whispers "of course" and after a silent beat as if saying it out loud would bring him back in time he tells dream "me and wilbur used to do this when he was younger"

And dream just tells him that he's sorry and that if he "could go back and change it he'd give anything, sorry for letting it go so far with wilbur" and philza tells him that he "knows wilbur is sorry too" and he knows how mentally unwell wilbur got and that he "wished he'd checked up after the letters stopped sooner" and dream doesn't want philzas to blame himself there's nothing he could have done to stop what wilbur and dream had started between each other but there's nothing dream could say to make philza understand that. So he just tangles a fist in philzas shirt and hopes a "none of this is your fault" in an exasperated voice will convey that enough. He gives philzas one more thank you for being here and with philzas hand tracing little movements on his back dream finally feels safe enough to drift off. Lol lol lol ooooooo okay

:*) Loool what if techno used to have a weekly routine of weapon care like just keeping them clean and sharpened and polished. but after he rescues dream from his isolation and torment from quackity, technos sitting in the living room and goes to grab his axe and dream starts panicking and immediately goes to apologizing and begging techno to tell him what he did wrong and promises he'll try better next time (even tho he didn't do anything :-( ) and techno does his best to assure him he didn't do anything, that he's doing perfectly fine and even if something came up his first instinct would not in fact be to pull an axe out on him and techno puts his stuff away and they just sit together :-( after philza gets home he and techno talk and agree it would be best they keep the weapons out of site unless it's absolutely necessary.

theyre sitting like this L

[pyrten]

mmm I was scrolling Twitter and I saw multiple posts on how Techno is too OP in the DSMP (or well I'm gonna dive into in the "generally-" part too, I suppose?). And because of class and boredom, yeeeeeeeaaaahhhhh .

The one obvious reason the guy is so OP in the storyline (and in general, to be honest) is preparation.

**There's the side of "for plot" which understandable, it was scripted for him to win (<< example). But otherwise, Techno plans and prepares.

There's a literal Sun Tzu quote "Let your plans be as dark and impenetrable as night and when you move, fall like a thunderbolt". It applies.

// Mark 1

It's the grind (m a n). Techno is willing to grind the gunpowder (+ other) for the fireworks.

Even though CC!Techno procrastinated on getting the netherite for the armour during the coup (Pogtopia v Manberg), he got them in the end and even enchanted the armour with weak enchantments just so it'd be easier to fight the person wearing it later on

(I can't tell whether it's just because he – and in extension, c!Techno – didn't have enough time to get the levels or he expected it, but I'm leaning towards the latter).

"I didn't put depth strider on those boots, Fundy!" Is a good example of – he saw this coming and acted accordingly (to his motives).

//End.

Another is positioning (PvP and odds, to put it that way) + practice. I put on his bedwars / skywars videos as background sound for homework, and sometimes watch them, because Techno content is s c a r c e lmao.

His first time playing bedwars: he was hesitant and inexperienced, definitely, but the dude decided he wanted to corner the bedwars market and, well, he did.

He's definitely confident while playing bedwars now. He would move his position just so he could knock the players into the void / off the map or into a position where the player is unable to do anything, for that matter.

I'd make, like, a parallel? Comparison?To real life of how your positioning in fencing / hand-to-hand matters? Just like parkour too, if you don't position yourself correctly, you'll face the consequences: getting hurt (or like in bedwars , having to respawn lmao). But then again, I don't know too much about fencing, fighting, or like parkour in gen, so I won't say much.

As for in Skywars, he knows when he couldn't win and he runs unless he's cornered into a position where fleeing isn't an option. He knows he wouldn't be able to win the fight and he leaves, get better gear and only then he'll take his chances because his chances are either even or in his favour (most of the time, the latter).

^^^

This could be seen during the execution (it's scripted but still-) His armour has been confiscated/taken. He doesn't have his weapons when he's being executed. He isn't in a great position, no armour, no weapons, no means of escape that wouldn't result in death –

**Okay well, if, it were possible, he could've ran back into his house and put on his spare netherite set and leave but then Ghostbur was there, and it's Ghostbur-. He could've possibly just hopped off the boat and swam back but then I'm not sure whether or not anyone in the Butcher Army had a trident or not so... Also, it's scripted and plot so eh.

– wouldn't result in death (at least before Dream and Punz came by). So he does the thing where anyone with common sense would do, he uses the Totem and he runs.

And to wrap up this part is the practice. He practiced speed bridging which is quicker and more efficient than 45-degree bridging. The bedwars win streak + Skywars + having PvP experience and practice with Fruitberries, TapL etc. This stacks up on experience man.

===========================

This is like, a small thing, but if: Quackity v Technoblade, but they have the same armour and weapon enchants, plus potion effects. It's fair (in preparation, not skill). Technoblade would've won, since he has much more experience in PvP, the guy mains it, pretty much, but Quackity would've at least had the chance to escape.

^^^

This is just in general, it's completely in disregard of the actual fight that took place (much better, it was so fun to watch. The "put the pickaxe through your teeth" line was gold, damn).

Another small thing: When Techno v The Butcher Army, I would love to factor in the fact he knew before hand (Phil) and knew he could possibly take them instead of choosing to flee.

Is it like, because he thought like, maybe his opponents may be a tad bit under-prepared.

Uhh, I'll stack on that perhaps c!Techno knew who they were beforehand. BECAUSE LIKE, L'MANBERG (wanted posters, being hunted – warned by Dream. It's not difficult to tie together honestly), and like psychology POG? I think he did mention before he nearly majored in Psychology or smth, Squid Kid profile?? How he thinks? Okay- the potato war, that part where he says that, yeah).

(This train of thought is so broken and so o l d, this took place in Dec 2020, it's 2021, what am I doing.)

===========================

TL;DR:

Preparation can honestly take you a long way. Not everyone has the time or determination to s i t and grind for resources. Just doing that and achieving the goal of gathering, could put you in a spot where you possibly have a chance to succeed.

If you stack preparation on with: experience, knowledge and skill (even if it's not a lot), man.

Lastly, c!Techno plans ahead.

(The turtles, the honey for his base, there's more– //Mark 1, that part lol.

Hell, take his "I hid the number of potatoes I actually had and LIED because I knew Squid would be watching the video-".)

^^^ That's why c!Techno (and CC!Techno honestly lmao) seems OP.

**If Techno ever mentions being uncomfortable with , like, any analysis like this which include his actions while actually playing (basically, just, being under scrutiny like this), I'm willing to take it down, just shoot me a DM and proof and I'll get to it.

[alovesongshewrote]

Almost A Thousand Years - Spellbound | Hisirdoux Casperan

Plot:  You’ve known Hisirdoux Casperan for almost a thousand years.  You’ve hated him for almost a thousand years.  And for almost a thousand years, you’ve been cursed to feel each others pain.  But somewhere in that time, things changed.  [Hisirdoux Casperan x Mostly Gender Neutral but Probably Female Presenting Based on How Historical Men Treat Them!Reader]

Word Count:  5,298

Warnings: guess who’s swearing again, reader is generally sad lol, mentions of torture

A/N:  OOP WIZARDS

Tags: @furblrwurblr​ @rainningdoom​ @fluffydmonkey @blondie0458​ @sitherin-mxschief  @jinxedleo​ @lawlesshedgehog @einahpetsyarcip

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“Beware!  You, you!  Are in grave danger!”

“Archie?”

You were very surprised to see the familiar and very glad that whatever made you want to hurt Douxie didn’t apply to him.  

“(Y/N)?”

“Heyyy, Arch,”

“(Y/N), where have you been?  Douxie’s been looking for you everywhere!”

“That’s what I’m worried about,”

“Wait, (Y/N), you know the talking cat?”  Toby exclaimed, frantically between you and the cat-dragon.

“He’s a familiar, actually,”

“Familiar?”

“Nuh-uh, not familiar, I would remember if I’d met a talking cat,”

“No, familiar, wizard-assistant,”

“Assistant!  That’s very offensive, I am a wizard associate, thank you very much,”

“Yeah, okay, semantics, what do you need Arch?”

“I need you to come with me, or the world as you know it will come to end,”

You sighed, rubbing your temples.  Had you and your gang of stray children, trolls, and Akiridions not saved the planet enough for one year?  What sin did you commit to cause these unending apocalypses to rain down on you?

“Are you threatening me pussy cat?”

You put a hand on Steve’s shoulder, a little worried that he would actually try to fight Archie.  It wouldn’t be too out of character for him.

“No, I’m warning you,” Archie responded, calm as ever, “Put simply, the world as you know it is about to end,”

“What else is new,”  you muttered, following the cat-dragon down the street, “C’mon guys, let’s see what wants to destroy the universe now,”

Toby, Steve and Arrrgh kept up the conversation while you followed Archie in silence, silently praying that wherever the familiar led you, his wizard would be far away.

Your prayers went unanswered.  

“Sorry, this is a lot to take in.  Pets can talk?  The world is ending?  Again?”

“Not the best timing, I know, but we need your help all the same,”

“Douxie?”

“Casperan,”

“(Y/N)?”

“Wait, (Y/N), you know this guy too!?”  

You froze in place at Steve’s question, looking briefly into Douxie’s eyes.  If it hadn’t been physically painful to avoid killing him whenever you were in the same place, it still would’ve been emotionally painful.  How could you look into the eyes of the one person you could always count on, the man you loved, when he had left you for dead?  How could you look into his eyes knowing you had been sent to kill him?  Centuries had passed, and yet you still felt like the traitor you’d always been.

“We’re acquaintances,” you said, stepping back in a desperate attempt to quell the bloodlust rising within you, trying to escape the rage that wasn’t yours.

You avoided looking into Douxie’s eyes again, but the hurt on his face was clear to you, even if you weren’t staring directly at it.

“Wait, wait, hold up, I thought you worked at the cafe or were a model or something-?”

Douxie laughed a little, trying to shake off your icy demeanour, “There’s a lot about me you don’t know,”  

The cuff on his wrist glowed blue, the light forming an orb in the palm of his hand.  The teenagers in front of you were wide-eyed, amazed by Douxie’s use of magic.  You just shook your head and kept trying not to kill your oldest friend.

He pressed the orb to the door of the bookshop, unlocking it, “Come on then, the answers to all your questions are within,”

“Sure they are,” you muttered, hanging back as the boys filed into the store.  You took a second to look at Arcadia’s Arcane bookstore, one of the few places in town you’d never actually been to.  When Douxie started working there, you decided that avoiding the shop was a key part of not committing murder.  The same went for the cafe, and anywhere else the wizard went.

“(Y/N)?” Speak of the devil, it was the wizard.  The one whose life you were trying to save, “C’mon, I need you for this, too,”

“I-” you looked down, desperately searching for an excuse.  End of the world or not, saving Douxie from yourself was more important.  Maybe you should’ve just left Arcadia.

“(Y/N),” his voice was soft, just as you remembered it.  The way he looked at you made you want to cry.  There was so much love in his eyes.  Left for dead or not, you couldn’t deny he did care about you, “Please,”

He reached out, his hand gently clasping around your wrist.  No matter how much you longed for his touch, you tore your hand from his grip as if you’d been burned.

“Fine, Douxie, I’ll join you on whatever hell-quest this is, but you have to promise that you’ll stay away from me,”

He was shocked, clearly taken aback by what you said, “That’s… that’s fine, but why?”

It killed you to hear how heartbroken he sounded, “I’ll explain later, let’s just go,”

The hurt in your voice hit him hard.  The way you’d jerked your hand back left him feeling as if he’d done something wrong.  Whatever it was, Douxie promised himself that he would figure it out and apologize to you and make it better.  He didn’t need you to forgive him, he just wanted you to smile again.  He wanted to see the light in your eyes, the one that he’d been falling in love with since at least the fifteen-hundreds, even if he wasn’t the cause of it.  Ever since you’d disappeared, you’d been distant.  The few chances he got to look at you, you’d seemed haunted.  He wanted to help you so bad, but he couldn’t do anything unless you let him.

Silently, the two of you walked through the door.

Inside the shop, various objects floated about, surrounded by a green hue.  You recognized that magic.  It had cursed you years ago and had cursed Jim more recently.  Merlin.

“Put that down! Thank the ether you’re here!  We haven’t a moment to waste,”

“Woah, crusty creepy dude,”  

You laughed at that, trying to keep yourself quiet and failing.  You wouldn’t say it to Merlin’s face, but those were your thoughts almost exactly.  The old wizard ignored both you and Steve.

“I had hoped for more Hisirdoux,”

“Jeez, thanks Merlin,”

“Silence, traitor,”

You rolled your eyes into the back of your head.  Would no one let you live that down?  

As if Douxie sensed your discomfort, the young wizard took the attention off of you, “Look, I tried, I couldn’t find the changelings or the aliens.  I’m pretty sure most left the planet,”

“Merlin!  It’s me!  Toby Domzalski!  Y’know, War Hammer, Guardian of Arcadia, Geology Club president,”

“No one could forget you chatty,”

“Oh my god, Merlin, what have I told you about talking to kids!”  

Since the old man had awoken from his nine-century long sleep, you’d tried to convince him to do two things.  Call Douxie, because the young wizard deserved to know what was going on and you couldn’t tell him yourself, and be nicer to the children for god’s sake.

“And Steve Palchuk!  Creepslayer!”

“I have no idea who you are, but we’re desperate.  Thankfully, we have the brute,”

“Because, y’know, the traitor is of no use to you,” you muttered, scooping up Archie, trying to interrupt a dispute between him and Arrrgh.  Fortunately, the familiar did not struggle to get away from you despite your cold attitude towards his wizard.  That, at the very least, brought you some relief.

“Wait, where’s Jimbo and Claire?  I thought they were with you?”

“Yeah, good question Merlin, where’ are the kids you’re in charge of?”

“Answers forthcoming.  Make preparations, we’ve a journey ahead.  And don’t-”

“But Master!”

“‘But Master,’ me,”

“Very typical,” you sighed, releasing Archie from your hold.  Your attention was brought back to Douxie.

“But… are you sure you want to count on these children?  They’re clearly not ready for this,”

He was partially right.  Your kids had seen battle before and could probably take whatever was thrown at them, but that didn’t mean they should have to.  They deserved a break.

Steve scoffed, “Excuse me, college dude, these children fought off a fifty-foot extraterrestrial,”  he made a good point despite it being an obvious brag, and it would have held some weight, had he not promptly gotten into a scuffle with an enchanted set of armour.  

You watched, cringing a bit, before turning your attention to Merlin and Douxie’s conversation.

“I’ve spent years preparing, centuries-!”  All true, once again.  You could say what you wanted about Hisirdoux Casperan, but you couldn’t deny he was more than capable when it came to magic.   You'd seen his magic improve over the centuries, and you knew for a fact that he could kick some ass.

“Silence!”  Merlin cut Douxie off, reminding you ever so slightly of your Camelot days.  You wanted, desperately, to comfort your friend, but being in the same room was hard enough.  If you touched him, he would die.

“I mean, silence, all of you,”  Merlin corrected himself, “Can you not hear that?”

You could hear nothing, but you stopped to listen anyway.  Beside you, Toby drew his hammer, readying for a battle.

You still couldn’t hear it.

“Something wicked this way comes,”

You squeezed your eyes shut, tired and stressed, but willing to fight.  You drew your sword, and in front of you, blue magic circled around Douxie’s wrist.  Your body was telling you to murder him right now, show him no mercy, go for the throat, but you held back.  Now was not the time to kill your friends.

Merlin and Douxie walked past you to look out the window.  You joined them, squinting to try and make out what lurked in the murky darkness, only to jump back when a shadow mephit flung itself at the glass in front of you.  It bounced off a shield of blue, tumbling off into the street to join its brothers and sisters, all of which now came into view.

“Shadow mephits?  Traitor, did you lead them here?”

“You do know I have a name, right?”

“No, no, it wasn’t (Y/N), it was me, or at least I think it was,”

“Yes, it was us,” Archie said, jumping onto a shelf next to Douxie.  You would’ve laughed at the familiar’s candor, had the shadow mephits been less interested in breaking in.

Merlin just shook his head, “He found us.  The barrier won’t hold for long.  We must make egress!  Tobias, take my things!”

With a wave of Merlin’s hand, a trunk, surrounded by the green glow of his magic, slammed into Toby and flew him up to the roof, screaming.

“For god’s sake, Merlin,”  he couldn’t hear you through the attack, but it was the sentiment that counted.

But then again nothing really mattered.  A mephit broke through the barrier, only to face a bolt of magic from Merlin, “All of you to the roof!”

You grabbed Steve and Arrrgh and started up the stairs.  Douxie, of course, didn’t listen to his master.  You couldn’t hear the argument that took place between them as you guided your companions up the stairs, but you could see what was going on below you.  You had to admit, Douxie blasting shadow mephits while standing his ground in an argument was pretty damn impressive (impressive here meaning hot.)

Merlin moved past you, blasting some mephits as he went.  You took initiative and sent some magic their way as well, knocking a few away from Archie.  Douxie grabbed his familiar with magic, saving the cat-dragon from a very mephit-y death.

“C’mon Douxie,” you said, waiting for him by the door, crying out slightly when the nerd rammed his hand into a candle, feeling the burn on your own hand.  Your wizard took a brief moment to look at you, then the candle before lighting the bookstore on fire.

To be fair, it was a magic fire, and it wasn’t damaging anything but the mephits.  You were actually quite impressed by that, too, and you were very charmed by his laughter once he saw that his plan worked.  Merlin, however, didn’t care.

“Fire!?”

“Yeah, magic fire!”

“In a bookstore!!?”

“Butmephitsarevulnerabletofire-”

“Move it!”

You grabbed Archie, jumping out the door to see your friends fighting off even more shadow mephits.

“Got any more magic fire, Doux?”

“‘M afraid I’m fresh out,”

“Ah.  Fuck,”

You swung your sword into the nearest mephit, “I guess we’ll have to do this the old fashioned way then,”  You buried the blade in another one of the creatures before placing Archie on the ground and blocking a blow from yet another mephit.

“Stand back!”  Merlin exclaimed, throwing a crystal ball that released a small ship from inside of it.  The blast from the ship blew back a few of the mephits long enough for everyone to have a two-second gawk at the little boat.

“Woah, ship just got real!”

“Yeah-huh,”

“Everyone on!”  Arrrgh growled, tossing all of you on board.  

You frantically scuttled away from Douxie, double-checking your blade to be sure it didn’t have his blood on it.  It didn’t.  He was safe.  From you, at least.

You stuck to one side of the ship, watching your friends fight off more shadow mephits on the other side.  You sincerely hoped they’d never have to fight you like that.

You heard someone say, “Boy,” from below, a voice that was eerily familiar to one you had heard before, not too long ago.  You were about to rise and check to see if your suspicions were correct, but before you had the chance, green shards flew through the air, just like-

Just like the one that had gone through you.

You didn’t have time to ponder things as Merlin’s ship flew off through the night sky.  You just sat back and shut your eyes, trying to keep the internal demons at bay.

You did your best to erase the memory from your mind.  To forget a green knight who, on the orders of his masters, sent a shard of black magic right through you.  You should have died, but instead, the projectile broke through your skin and disintegrated, taking over your body, turning you into an assassin against your will.  Your captors had called it a trial, an experiment.  Sneaking a look at one of the shards beside you, you realized that you had been a test run.  That shard hadn’t disintegrated.

You kept your eyes shut.

A few minutes later, the memories faded.  You could relax, finally.  The sound of the boys screaming with joy rang through the air.  Flying was fun, you had to admit that.  You opened your eyes, first looking at Steve, Arrrgh, and Toby, then at Douxie.  

He was beautiful, staring off into the distance as if there was nothing in the world to worry about.  As if the assassin sent to kill him wasn’t at his side right now.  You bit the inside of your cheek to keep any emotion from showing.  You couldn’t let them know anything was wrong, if you did they’d never trust you again.  But what you felt was overwhelming.

You were stressed, not knowing what was to come in the future, nor what your captors would do to you if they knew your target was still alive.  You were hurt, because over the ten years that you’d been tortured your best friend hadn’t searched for you, even though he had before.  Was he tired of you?  Did he just not care anymore?  You were scared of the answer.  And worst of all, you were in love.  But you refused to admit it.

“What the heck is that?”

You turned your attention to the horizon before you, “That’s not-”

“Welcome, young squires, to Camelot,”

“Camelot!?  Like, as in ancient-old-people-times Camelot!?”

“Thanks, Toby,” you snarked under your breath.  You heard a snicker from beside you.  You made him laugh.  That made you feel a lot better.  You even smiled when you thought Douxie wasn’t looking.  Maybe things wouldn’t be so bad.

He was looking.  His fondness for seeing his old home dulled in comparison to his fondness for you.  The small smile on your lips was enough to power his world for decades, no, centuries.  You still seemed troubled, but if you smiled now, there was still hope that he could help you make things better.  

“Excuse me, I have a question.  How is this castle flying right now?”  

“The Heart of Avalon.  Its magic keeps Camelot aloft, powered by time itself,”

You took a moment to lean over the side of the ship, examining the large green stone.  It was nice.  Reminded you of Merlin’s magic.  The ship took a sudden turn upwards, and Merlin called out a greeting to someone.

“Holy crap, Gallahad’s still alive?”

“Seems that way,”

“I guess committing treason means you miss the weekly newsletter,”

You missed Douxie’s frown at your angsty humour.  He wanted you to know that no matter what Merlin called you, you were no longer a traitor.  You wished that could be true.

The ship took another sharp turn, heading for the entrance.

“I say, coming in a little hot, don’t you think?”

“Rubbish!”

“I knew Merlin would be the death of me, but not like this,”

You held on tight as the ship landed, but it wasn’t enough.  The impact launched you into Douxie, who managed to catch you, only for you to jump out of his arms, even though you would’ve liked to stay there.

“Sorry,” you whispered, once again straining to avoid murder.

If Merlin didn’t try to execute you for past treasons, he would definitely kill you for murdering his favourite apprentice.  Of course, that was only one of several reasons to avoid committing homicide, but it was the most prevalent right now as Merlin caught your eye.

Toby, Steve and Douxie exchanged banter, while you spoke in lower tones with your once master.

“So, you still haven’t gotten over your petty rivalry, have you?

“It’s not that, Master, I-”

“So we’re back to Master, are we?”

“It’s only fitting seeing that we’re back in Camelot,”

“If that’s the case, I should have you killed for treason,”

You weren’t sure if that was a joke or not, but your response was one hundred percent serious, “Please do,”

Merlin turned to you, fairly concerned.  He was not expecting that retort, to say the least.  But you weren’t looking at him.  You were looking back at his apprentice, something he couldn’t name trapped in your gaze.

“Uh, cool floating castle ship,” Toby interrupted both your and Merlin’s train of thought, “But what’s the grave danger you keep talking about?”

Merlin didn’t answer, instead, he looked ahead of him, “Ah, there you are,”

“Claire!”

“Toby!”

“Aarghaumont!”

“Blinky!”

You grinned as your friends hugged each other.  It was good for them to be back together again.  

“Whoa, hey, Steve’s here, too!  How ‘bout- how ‘bout some love for Steve?”

As much as you admired Steve’s growth as a person, you had to cringe, just a little.

“Oh, hi Steve,”  Claire said, unimpressed before her eyes turned to you, “(Y/N)!  Hi!”

“Hey, Claire, Blink,” you gave a small wave, too emotionally and physically exhausted for anything else at this point.

“What happened to you guys?”  Toby asked, frantically taking in Claire and Blinky’s worse for wear appearances, “Wait, where’s Jim?”

The look on Claire’s face told you everything you needed to know.

One room over, Jim was encased in a green crystal… thing.  

You knelt to the ground next to Jim’s crystal and immediately began your assessment.  The trollhunter’s face, arms and legs seemed to be fine, but a shard of something had embedded itself in his chest.  Unfortunately, you recognized it.  It was the same thing your captors used to force you into becoming an assassin.  It looked like the shard had gotten about halfway in before stopping, completely intact, above Jim’s heart.  You didn’t need to be a doctor to know that that wasn’t a good thing, but you were a doctor, and you needed to get a closer look before you could do anything.  Before you could get any closer, your attention went back to the conversation taking place between everyone else in the room.

“What happened to him?”

“We were ambushed.  Some ancient, dark warrior.  An unstoppable knight clad in green,”  

Your blood ran cold.  You were right.  Same knight, same shard, and eventually, same outcome.  You didn’t want to think about that.  You refused to consider the implications.

“Master, is that the same knight we saw at the bookstore?”

“One and the same,”

You swore under your breath.  This could not be happening.  You never wanted to deal with your captors ever again, but here they were, knocking at your door and trying to kill more of your friends.

“That onyx shard is working its way towards his heart.  I placed the boy in stasis, stalling its progress… for now,”

“But that’s not a permanent solution, is it?”  you muttered, deciding to distract yourself from thoughts of the green knight by trying to find a way to fix this problem.  

If you removed the shard, it might leave a gaping hole in Jim’s chest, one that would need more than a few stitches, that is if you could pull the shard out at all.  You weren’t super sure whether it would disintegrate or not, and if it did, that might kick start whatever possession your captors had planned for Jim.  

If you couldn’t remove the shard, stasis was the best idea until you figured out how to remove it.  Maybe it could be burnt away?  But that might kick start disintegration.  No, that would just burn the boy, and impalement was bad enough.  You racked your brain, struggling to find a solution.  Around you, your friends were talking, but you barely listened.  You needed to focus, otherwise, you’d explode from nerves alone.

“If I had my shadow staff, I could have saved him,”

“Who is this Green Knight?  How do I get my hands on him?”

“I do not know.  The Green Knight said but one name, which chilled me to the bone.  Morgana,”

The name of the Eldritch queen caught your attention.  You stood up, eyes now focused on Merlin.

“Oh, I hate that lady.  But wait, I thought we kicked her bewitched butt to the shadow realm?”

“Which he appeared not to know, but he bore the emblem of Camelot,”

Great.  Just great, the last thing you needed was Camelot zombies, and yet, here they were!  Merlin took a few steps away from Jim before turning and heading out the door, and into the night.  The gang followed though you stayed behind, taking one last look at Jim.  You’d failed him.  You were supposed to be a doctor, and a protector, but here he was, nearly dead because you left him alone with Merlin for more than two seconds.

“Come with me, quickly.  I fear the answer lies in the past,”  

You turned away from Jim, following behind the others, avoiding Douxie and staying silent.

“A dark menace is coming, one even I cannot face alone,”  The old wizard led you into another tower, stopping at a table in the center and opening up a time map, “You are all now soldiers in a war started centuries ago for the world of magic,”

You scoffed slightly, “Yeah, what else is new,”

Merlin ignored you, “Once, the realms of Magic and Man clashed in endless bloodshed.  King Arthur sought to wipe out magic that ravaged the lands in his war against Gunmar,”  blue light from the time map displayed images of Arthur and Gunmar as the old wizard spoke.  

You turned your eyes to the floor at the sight of your old master.  It hadn’t been long since you’d seen the old trolls face, but it still brought a sense of anxiety with it.  The Gumm-Gumm king had trained you to be afraid, to be a fighter.  He’d pretty much ruined your childhood, but there was no time for angst now.  Merlin was still expositing.

“I brought what few spellcasters I could under my protection, to spare them from the sword,”

“Including myself, (Y/N)-”

“That’s technically false,”

“Oh, and Morgana le Fay,”

“She was the finest student I ever taught… until she tried to kill me.  Thankfully, in my all-seeing wisdom,”  you rolled your eyes again.  Merlin kept talking, “I created a secret weapon- the Trollhunter amulet.  The war came to a standstill and I imprisoned Morgana at the Battle of Killahead Bridge,”

“Only for her to break out nine hundred years later,”

“Shush,” Merlin finally acknowledged you, “This Green Knight that assailed us was clearly born of dark magicks, but I have no memory of him nor what connection he could have to Morgana,”

You bit your lip, remembering the shard used to curse you.  You had a very vague idea of the connection between the Eldritch queen and the Green Knight.

“We know not what he is, nor why he pursues us, though his presence is a dire omen of things to come,”

You also had a decent idea of why the knight was pursuing you.  Or, at least pursuing Merlin.  If this green knight was, in fact, the same that served your captors, it was likely he was doing their bidding just as you were.  With the knight, they’d targeted Merlin directly, or, at the very least his trollhunter.  In your case, you’d been sent to kill one of the very few people Merlin actually cared about.  Either way, they were coming for Merlin, or for what he had.  

Back in your prison, you had two main captors.  You’d only briefly met the third, the one they’d lost.  From what you’d gathered, the other two assumed she ran to Merlin, and judging by size alone, it was very possible that she was hiding somewhere here, in Camelot.  

It was either that, or they were coming after you specifically for not murdering Douxie fast enough, but that didn’t seem likely.

The sound of a bell ringing shook you from your thoughts.

Something hit the side of the castle, knocking everyone to the floor.

“What’s happening?”

“Have you never been under attack before?  To the battlements!”

You followed Merlin and the squad outside to see your worst nightmare come to life.

Your once-prison, the ship of your captors, the Arcane Order, rose into view.

“Oh.  Fuck,”  your eyes widened as you took in the skull-shaped ship for the second time this century.

“Everyone, get to safety!  Now!”

Merlin didn’t have to ask you twice.  You grabbed whoever was nearest to you and scrambled to find the safest place possible.  It was kind of difficult while Camelot shook from each attack, but you managed.

You shoved Toby, Claire and Steve into a small sheltered balcony of sorts, raising your hands and casting a shield around the four of you.  Debris bounced off of the magic you’d projected.  Merlin was yelling something, but you kept your focus, straining to stay in place as ice hit the ship, forming bridges between the Arcane Order and Camelot.  It didn’t work very well.  The shield came down around you, but there was no time to set it up again.  

The kids ran towards the edge of the ship, their weapons drawn.  You followed behind.

“All of a sudden, flying castles aren’t so cool!”

“You said it, Steve,”

The ship shook some more as fire and ice attacked it.  You watched, wide-eyed, as the demi-gods who had tortured you for ten years sent blast after blast at what had once been your home.

“We‘ve got to protect Jim!  I’m not losing him again!”  Claire exclaimed as shadow mephits began to cross the icy bridges connecting them to Camelot.

You took two mephits out with your sword while Toby yelled something about hammers.  The four of you continued your fight, taking out as many goblins and shadow mephits as possible.  It didn’t take too long for you to clear a path, making your way to Jim and the trolls.

Another blast of ice carved its way into the tower in front of you, forcing you to remember that same ice carving its way into your skin.

“Surrender, Merlin,”  

That voice made you want to vomit.  You took a few steps back, not even bothering to prepare a spell or level your sword at an opponent.  You were somewhere else now.

Fortunately, you didn’t have to do much in terms of freeing the ship.  One of the towers crashed into the bridges of ice, releasing Camelot from the Arcane Order’s hold and snapping you out of your traumatized haze.

You followed Claire and Steve up to the main tower, where Douxie was trying his best to steer the ship.  

“Please don’t blow us up, please don’t blow us up,”

“We don’t have enough power for the jump!”  Archie sounded as panicked as you felt.

“Trust in Merlin!”  Scratch that, Douxie’s panicked shouting was much more like you.

“No thanks!”

Green fire surrounded whatever the hell device was controlling the ship, giving it enough power to tear a hole in time and space.

“We have to steer Camelot through the time rift!”

You would have helped if you hadn’t been slammed into one of the railings, left to cling on for your life.  That was probably fine, Douxie, Claire and Steve were managing.

“IT ENDS,”  it was the green knight’s voice again, “NOW,”

Panic surged through your veins as something hit the ship, tipping it, and sending you all flying.  You held onto whatever you could, trying not to freefall through the air.  Jim’s crystal nearly fell on you, instead, it fell down and into the time rift, which was probably worse than him just crushing you, but you couldn’t really think of that right now.

“What do we do man?”

“Trust me!”  Douxie exclaimed, grabbing Claire and pulling her with him into the rift.  You watched them fall, still panicking.

“Whatever, I have nothing better to do,” you joked, trying to calm your nerves.  It wasn’t working.  You let go and fell through the night and into a different time.

The sky changed.

It was daytime now.

You were still falling though.

“This is gonna hurt!”

“It- Does- Hurt!”  Steve voiced your thoughts perfectly.

The wind was knocked from your lungs as you hit blue forcefield after blue forcefield and then the ground.  The landing was pretty rough, but the good news was you were all alive.

The four of you remained lying on the ground for a moment before Steve began to freak out, something about being blind, before he was hit in the head with Jim’s crystal tomb.

The boy groaned, “What just happened?”

“Well, I just conjured an anti-gravity spell to slow our fall and keep us from dying.  You’re welcome,”

“Thanks for not letting us die a horrible, horrible death, Casperan,” you said, sitting up.  You did a quick check to make sure nothing was broken before you realized.  You didn’t have an innate drive to murder the wizard anymore.  You laughed a little, realizing the curse was broken, for now at least.

“(Y/N)? You okay, love?”

“I am much better than okay,”  You turned to see Douxie’s very concerned face, elated to find that you didn’t want to kill him anymore, “I’ll explain later,”

“Douxie,” Claire asked, calling your attention to her, “Where is the flying castle?”

“Oh, fuzzbuckets!  Well, it would appear we’ve had ourselves a temporal accident,”

“Which means?”

Douxie didn’t have time to answer before a sword was pointed at his throat.  It wasn’t yours though, so that was nice.

You looked around to see your little group surrounded by guards, all of them with weapons pointing at you.

“It means, that we are lost in time,”

“Motherfu-”

[sunshinewhale]

an oxeye daisy

he loves me, he loves me not.

pairing: minhyuk x reader  pov: unnamed reader, second person, mostly past tense

genre: angst  word vomit: ~2800

warnings: i’m just writing the same stuff in different words and different situations. lol.

notes: not proofread. i was trying to do something small and short and quick but it turned into a monster. this was only supposed to be ~500 words.

Autumn wind caresses your skin with soft chills, but it pales in comparison to the frozen wasteland in your empty chest. It’s numb. The playground before you is flowing with youth and joyful screams of delight. It’s not as contagious as you thought it would be.

A child comes up to you. She clutches a tangled garden of flowers in her chubby hands, and specks of dirt glitter on her dress coat. Shyly, she offers one out to you. Your numbness thaws a little at the way her small baby fingers are clumsy and unpracticed.

You smile and thank her, taking the flower by the stem. You twirl it in your fingers and tell her it’s pretty and that she’s even prettier. The child beams with unrestrained glee and runs back towards the playground with a bounce in her steps.

Your sight focuses on the flower again, and it’s anything but pretty.

It’s withering. The stem is crumpled and bent horribly out of shape. The petals are carelessly smushed, discoloured and ruined at the tips. It was well on the way to death’s door before it was unearthed from its roots in the name of childish innocence.

A wild wave of nostalgia overcomes you. You wish you could to return to the honeyed fairy tales of childhood, when you didn’t understand how something as good and pure as love could ruthlessly maim beating hearts.

You run your finger over the wispy petals, and gingerly pluck one off.

He loves me.

And another.

He loves me not.

Another.

He loves me.

Minhyuk burst into your life on a somber spring day. He had carried the sun on his shoulders like he was meant to illuminate your starless sky.

You were strangers, then. At best, friends of friends, though you weren’t really sure what Kihyun considered Minhyuk to be.

That didn’t stop him.

He was so alight with life. He glowed with the watercolours of sunrise and the universe seemed to bloom into existence under his fingertips. He chattered on about anything and everything, weaving a unique melody of thrill and mischief that tickled your ears. The world excited him, the ordinary amazed him, and he wanted to share his exhilaration with you. It was annoying, but it was so annoyingly endearing.

“You don’t understand! Listen to me,” he said breathlessly, wonderstruck and awe thrumming in his voice. “We’re in such a boundless galaxy with years and years of history and look! We’ve meet here, in the same time and at the same place! That’s a miracle in itself! Wouldn’t it be such a shame if we don’t become friends?”

You remember feeling something in your wary heart stir, for the first time. Minhyuk had made a mere crack at the edge of your steel fortress, but it was enough for a trickle of his warmth to seep through and reach the slumbering eros beneath.

He loves me not.

Sworn to secrecy under the velvet moon, he confided that you weren’t exactly his type. Not that he really had a type, he hurried to explain, because types are such an inflexible concept and everyone is worth loving anyway, but he was furiously drawn to people who painted their souls vividly with emotion and wore vulnerability like golden armour.

You wore it like weakness.

He had thought you were solid diamond. Almost too unapproachable, too stiff, too aloof, too alike Kihyun. The lover in him ached, throbbing at the far distance you had withdrawn into yourself. He wanted to show you the magic the world hid in plain sight, but he had only meant to become your friend. He had a difficult time with guarded hearts that refused to flower in the sincerity of spring.

He loves me.

But then, he confessed, he saw how he made you smile for the first time, so silently sweet because you thought he wasn’t watching, and he fell just a little bit in love. He coaxed you to laugh for the first time and he fell a little bit harder. His heart swelled to the heavens and it couldn’t decide between skipping beats or beating faster when he began to realize how effortless your smiles and your laughter came for him, and only for him. Like the North star dazzling amongst billions of other identical stars, he felt so, so special.

One day, he watched you as your eyes hooked onto him in a sea of strangers. He watched as your face lit up in an indescribable, iridescent glow and the way your lips smoothly curled upwards in unrestrained beauty, and he fell completely, utterly, hopelessly.

“It was so enchanting, I couldn’t control it at all,” he breathed love against your lips, “I thought, we were definitely meant to be more than friends. I yearned to become yours.”

You placed your fingers over the heat of his heart, and you traced your name on his moonlit skin, as if you were searing it into memory.

“Is this mine, then?”

“Only yours,” he took your hand into his, and kissed his declaration into your soul as the night and all its stars bore witness, “and don’t you dare give it back.”

He loves me not.

You had hardened the outer layers of your heart into stone because you wanted to protect yourself against the dangers of unbridled passion, of loving and being loved in return. Minhyuk had given himself to you in sweet surrender, but you were reluctant to throw yourself in wholly. Just the very idea of loving entirely, emotionally, unconditionally, had always been difficult for you.

But Minhyuk made it so ridiculously easy.

He settled into your daily life as naturally as the sun rose at dawn and set at dusk. Whale-shaped cushions made themselves home on your couch, another coffee mug in the kitchen, an extra toothbrush in the bathroom. You fell into silken bedsheets with him each night, and you woke up to his handsomeness each morning. You were budding, bountiful and bright, allowing your roots to tangle with his as you bloomed thornless red roses and white ivy without poison.

You had stars in your eyes, and you were drowning in everything about Minhyuk.

His adorable uneven blink. The husky pitch of his voice. The precious crinkles of his eyes. The puppy-like curve of his smile. His large, warm hands.

His laughter was pure sunshine after the rain. He kissed like fresh dewdrops sparkling on the grass during sunrise, and embraced you securely like the way the summer sea hugged the horizon. His silly antics brightened even the bleakest of your days, and you’ve never felt so saturated with colour.

Minhyuk almost had you entirely. Almost. You were barely able to hold a small part of yourself back, but your sanity demanded you to do it. It was your last line of defence, your last hope before the ground underneath you gave way to raw vulnerability. It was small enough that it would’ve been inconsequential, but like everything else about you, he had noticed.

“You’re so enduringly careful, so cautious,” he asked into the dim light of the rising morning, “have you been hurt before?”

You tensed. Your shoulders curled into yourself out of defense, and unconsciously, you turned away from him slightly.

“No, but I’m afraid of being hurt. My heart is weak, and if I hurt I will shatter and I won’t know how to pick up the pieces and put myself back together,” your half-whispers had barely sounded in the soft silence, “that makes me afraid of you, too.”

He pulled you into his arms to unravel you, to undo the insecure knots you had wound yourself into. Minhyuk touched his forehead against yours, patiently coaxing you to look at him, and with little resistance, you locked onto his unwavering gaze.

You had nearly forgotten how to breathe.

His pupils were crystal clear and unbearably sincere. You saw endless love reflected in them, and then, you saw yourself.

“You don’t have to be afraid,” he sweared, and his voice promised you eternity, “I’ll be careful, too. I won’t hurt you.”

He paused, body stilling. His eyes widened round, like he suddenly had a life-changing revelation.

“Oh my god, I would even eat a cucumber for you.”

Minhyuk had made a face, his nose scrunched in disgust as if the very thought of eating the cursed vegetable brought him pain. You remember your fear washing away into the unknowns of the ocean, genuine fondness bubbling in its place as you promised you would never subject him to such cruelty.

He loves me.

Without even trying, he left his traces on your forever.

He was the love you dreamed about in childish fantasies, the one that lived in every fairytale and every myth, every legend. The love that made mere mortals defy gods, destroyed kings and brought great empires to war and to fall into ruin. He was the love that made miracles that you could never even imagine, happen.

And miracle, he did. Minhyuk made quick work and smoothly demolished down every last barrier that shielded your heart from the world. He didn’t leave a single brick behind in his wake. Your heart was beating naked on your sleeve, bearing his name in bolded love letters.

Your heart was so in bliss you could barely contain yourself.

“I was so reserved, Minhyuk, wasn’t it hard? I think I was hard to love.”

He chuckled at your query, a mischievous glint in his laughter as he teased, “I’m not going to lie, you’re still a little hard to love. I’m amazing, I know.”

You pouted, and amusement shook his shoulders. Adoration oozed from his entire being as he patted your cheek like he was consoling a spoiled child, but the slight scrunch of his brow told you he was giving it some serious thought.

“It was a little hard, but the hardest thing was convincing you to let me love you. Compared to that, loving you came so, so easily.”

He cradled your face as if he was holding the most precious treasure in his hands. His eyes lowered as his voice grew tender, “but you know, when I saw the beginnings of love in your eyes, I knew it was worth everything. “

“You’re worth everything,” he repeated, and his lips found yours.

He loves me not.

Spring came to an end. Spring always came to an end.

On the water’s surface, there wasn’t a single flaw. Stars never stopped twinkling in your eyes whenever you caught his gaze, and you were constantly a crisp reflection in his. Kihyun had begun to joke about being invited to your summer wedding. Minhyuk was beyond delighted that someone else saw you so clearly in his future, and you took the idea as naturally as the changing season. Love firmly rooted you two together, and in unending selflessness, both of you would do anything for each other.

Maybe, there were warning signs hanging in the air all along, like small ripples that sailors paid no mind. Maybe, the hazy promises of love had made you two both willfully blind.

Minhyuk was the perfect child of fate and destiny, and you were the other side of the coin, ingrained in choice and chances. His heart was big and his love limitless, he gave too much and at times, it felt too intense. There was too much to bear. On your worst days, you wanted him to give less, to meet your needs halfway and give you a chance to breathe. You didn’t mind suffocating in his soul, but you were new in your steps and you had just learned to trust yourself in the hands of another. For you, this territory was unfamiliar, still strangely foreign. He mistook that for doubt because you didn’t feel secure enough in his embrace, so he gave you even more.

Maybe, that was your downfall.

He loves me.

You knew Minhyuk would never leave you because he had promised you forever, and that was simply an absolute truth. Every last cell in his body was willing to follow you in eternal vow, everything else be damned.

You are worth everything, his words had echoed in your mind.

No matter what Minhyuk thought, you weren’t everything. 

You couldn’t be everything. 

So beneath, the current was turbulent. In a book of relationships, there was a page you two just couldn’t agree on. He continued to pour his love onto you until his veins were dry and his pulse was weak with exhaustion, and he still insisted it wasn’t enough. Because you understood Minhyuk and his good intentions, you let his love fill you until it ached raw and wounded. You readily endured it even though the fullness bruised you, the blood underneath your skin silently screaming too much.

Like a sluggish toxin, love’s name gradually became weary and loving put a heavy strain on both of you. However much you and Minhyuk were willing, you knew it wasn’t right. The flowers of your roses began to wilt, but the vines thrived, growing sharp thorns. Your ivy buds shrivelled, feeding sickeningly sweet poison instead of honey nectar.

You knew, then.

When the sun dipped below the skyline and it began raining on the last day of spring, you murdered his beating heart.

“We’ve been trying too hard, Minhyuk, maybe we’re meant to just be friends.”

Your eyes had already been wet before the words even left you. Fear settled into the lines of his face as he reached out for you, to console you, to hold you and deny you of what he knew you intended to do. He tucked your head into the curve of his neck, and his fingers curled into you desperately like you would disappear if he let you go.

The comfort of his warmth broke you, and in a shuddering breath, you grieved in his arms. Your tears burned stains into his skin, and in an instant, you felt new wetness that didn’t belong to you.

“No, no, no, don’t cry,” his voice cracked, and his hands shook as they cradled your face, “you can’t cry because of me.”

Then Minhyuk had cried too, until his eyes turned bloodshot and his throat was hoarse with heartbreak.

“I love you,” he sobbed, “I’m sorry I ended up hurting you, I’m sorry I wasn’t careful enough, I’m so sorry—”

“You were careful. You didn’t hurt me. Maybe, it just hurts to love, but I chose to love you regardless,” you kissed his watery eyelids and ignored the sting of fresh tears at the back of your eyes, “I know you’ve been hurting too. We did our best.”

The sound of his weeping heart rang in your ears. It didn’t want to let go, and in all the truths of the universe, neither did you. 

One of the truths deafened you to his pain, gripped your hand and forced you to go.

What you want isn’t always what you need, the truth had said, what he wants isn’t always what he needs.

Minhyuk had promised he would never hurt you, and it was you that made him a liar.

He loves me not.

You had blinked, and autumn arrived at your doorstep.

Your life seems even bleaker than when you first met him. Your vision is colourless and your eyes cannot adjust to the vibrancy of the warm tones of harvest. All you can think of are of wilted leaves, barren trees, and dying flowers that have been robbed of too much time.

The skies are thick with cloudy misery, and the mornings are starting to darken into longer nights. You hardly see sunlight on the sidewalk, nowadays.

Even if it’s somewhere else, you hope the sun is still shining.

He loves me.

You hope he’s alright. 

You hope the gaping wound you left him as a parting gift has healed.

He loves me not.

You hope he has his head held high and he’s found light and life in autumn.

He loves me.

(He deserves to be happy, more than anyone else.)

He loves me not—

Your fingers tremble.

There’s a single petal remaining, limply hanging on the flower in your hands.

He loves me.

Bitterness claws up your throat and you can’t help but smile dryly at the cruelness of the universe. Familiar wetness stings your eyes and you breathe away the urge to cry.

You’ve should’ve known better than to think just loving would be enough.

The petals scattered at your feet look like fragmented pieces of memories from your spring. You watch as the autumn breeze picks up and carries them away.

You crouch down and carelessly cover the flower and the lone petal with loose earth. You bury Minhyuk and his starry kisses and sunlit smiles. You bury the what ifs and the maybes and the it could have beens.

It doesn’t matter, anymore.

His shattered heart is already six feet under.

[kyarymell]

Writing tag game. 

Under a read more but they generally don’t work on mobile. 

tagged by @deviantcrimes​ c:

short stories, novels, or poems?

I enjoy short stories. I have a really short attention span. But if it’s well-written it’ll definitely keep my attention. Sometimes, I stay up reading something long and suddenly it’s 4am and I wonder why. Mind you, I read manga more than the traditional written book. 

what genre do you prefer reading?

Honestly? Horror. I hate horror movies but I love horror books/manga. Big fan. Not the classics like Dracula or Frankenstein, I find them kinda boring because of how long-winded and outdated they are. I like stuff by Junji Ito, his horror works are out of this world. A lot of his stuff is hard to stomach though so I wouldn’t suggest reading it late at night. “Another” is a good horror light-novel too. 

what genre do you prefer writing?

I do like writing romance. All of it comes naturally because I’ve been in a committed serious relationship for about 4 years now. That man is literally my soulmate and a lot of the dating stuff and small relationship details come from our time spent together. He also helps me with writer’s block- he’s really good at giving me ideas to continue a fic. 

are you a planner or a write-as-I-go kind of person?

There’s a lot of thinking and idea plucking while I go to my day-to-day life. Then my fingers do the rest. I tend to have a running idea and then expand upon it as I keep writing. So It’s a bit of both planning and write-as-I-go. 

what music do you listen to while writing?

I listen to either video game soundtracks, nightclub music ranging a whole bunch of artists or oldies from the 1970′s to the early 2000′s. In terms of video game music is generally Persona 5 or Voodoo Vince (very Jazzy kind of soundtrack) but it depends on my mood. The nightclub music kinda helps me get into a sort of “writing flow”. 

fave books/movies?

It’s hard to say. The first thing that comes to mind is Big Hero 6 for favourite movie (I’ve watched it like 5 times). The Initial-D Live Action Film (I love Chinese comedy movies) and a lot of animated stuff. Spirited away to AKIRA, I like all sorts of animated films. 

any current WIPs?

See You in the Morning. It’s one of the biggest projects I’ve undertaken that’s gotten a lot of attention in such a short amount of time. It’s funny because the idea first was from a manga I read and it became a completely original story. An outpouring of comments on it has kept me motivated to continue it (I’m more than halfway through the next chapter) but I’m experiencing writer’s block.

create a character description for yourself:

Finds the most straight-forward solution to a problem. Not an extrovert but easy to make friends. Technologically savvy. 

I could go on a long spiel about the things I’ve been through but they do not define me. Not anymore. 

do you like incorporating people you actually know into your writing?

No. A lot of the worlds I build, the characters must suit the universe. Generally the people I know do not fit the criteria. 

are you kill-happy with characters?

If it’s required of the story, but know that I don’t keep them dead. 

coffee or tea while writing?

Soft drink (soda for those non-australians out there). The amount of Coca-Cola I consume in a week would probably concern a few people. 

slow or fast writer?

There are a lot of bursts of fast writing and some points of slow writing. There’s no in-between. 

where/who/what do you find inspiration from?

I’ve said this before but a lot of the domestic sweet romantic stuff? I get inspiration from my boyfriend. He’s a considerate and down-to-earth person and gives me ideas when I’m stuck on parts of my fic. He’s really funny too- helps me with some of the comedy. Also he’s like my IRL cheer squad, always asking me what part I’m up to or if I’m going to break my word count (lol).

if you were put into a fantasy world, what would you be?

I’d say a Paladin or War Cleric with less emphasis on the religious side of things. Having the ability to wear armour, do damage with some magic property or a little healing? Count me in. Or even a spellsword! Like an Arcane Warrior / Knight-Enchanter from Dragon Age.  

most fave book cliche? least fave book cliche?

I don’t really pay attention to cliches, I kinda just read stuff. 

fave scenes to write?

I don’t have a favourite. I just write.

most productive time of day for writing?

Either during the day or 12am midnight to 2am. 

reason for writing?

I just want to. It’s my hobby along with drawing. Well, also because of spite. There’s a lot of fanfiction out there showcasing shitty relationships and pathetic world building and I want to show others how its done. (haha)

tagging whoever wants to do this 

[charlieism]

:O Ella enchanted prinxiety au during the scene where Ella has to try not to kill the prince????? (Angst with happy ending???)

Oh boy thank you so very very much for sending this in ahh this was very fun to write!!! I’m just sorry it took so long oml I hope it was worth it :/

I’m tagging @pansexualroman, @lekawaiimelon, @mylasagnaisraw, @princeyandanxiety, @godammiteren, because I feel the need to tag people when I write lol (idek if you guys have seen Ella Enchanted oops, if you haven’t basically Anxiety was cursed to do whatever somebody tells him to, and the king told him to kill Prince.)

The room, it was beautiful. Anxiety’s fingers were linked with Roman’s, and he couldn’t pull them free, but he wanted to. He wanted to run away. Far away, away from Roman.

Roman, who was tugging him through the door, into The Room of Mirrors. A room of beautiful mirrors and vines, of flowers and shining reflections, a room of memories and tradition and love.

A room that would soon be where Prince died.

Anxiety couldn’t stop crying.

He knew Roman was concerned; the royal boy kept casting worried glances over his shoulder at Anxiety, his eyes soft and warm. His gaze reassuring, promising, full of love, but all it served was to make Anxiety cry harder, pressing one hand against his eyelids in a fruitless attempt to stop the tears escaping. He couldn’t do this.

He had to do this.

He didn’t want to do this.

He had no choice.

He hated himself, he hated the king, he hated his curse, he hated what would happen at the stroke of midnight, he hated what was happening now, he hated everything. Killing Prince would be the worst thing he had ever done, and Anxiety was wishing that he could die instead. The kingdom needed Roman, Anxiety needed Roman, Prince just- Prince just couldn’t die!

Yet the concealed dagger burned ice cold, it felt so heavy it was dragging Anxiety down, and it emanated with malice and evil. It signified what Anxiety was going to do, it was proof that he had no choice, he couldn’t control the future, how helpless he was.

Tears dripped onto the floor, reflected a hundred times by a circle of mirrors.

Prince gently lead him up onto a small stone platform in the centre of the room, and he was looking imploringly into Anxiety’s eyes, hands warm and words soft, loving, hopeful, and oh god, how could Anxiety ever kill him? He loved Roman. He loved Roman. Prince was the best thing that had ever happened to him, and he was going to ruin it all, take the one important thing on Earth and destroy it, dim the one light that shone bright in this dark world.

Drip, drip, drip, more tears, more mirrors, more evidence of what Anxiety had to do.

And now Prince was bending down, crouching, he was on one knee and please no, no no no, this was really happening, Anxiety couldn’t do this!

“Anx.” Roman took a deep breath, and smiled up at the darkly dressed boy, who tried to contain his tears. “Anxiety, will you marry me?” He looked so hopeful, and so in love, that it broke Anxiety’s heart.

And yet, even though he knew the question had been coming, had expected it and braced himself for it, Anxiety was still stunned. Still blown away by the fact that Prince loved him back. And even though Anxiety still had tears sliding down his cheeks, his lips involuntarily turned up into a whisper of a smile, because for a second he forgot. Forgot what was about to happen. He was just swept up in the flood of wonder and amazement and love.

Then the clock struck twelve.

Immediately the smile was torn off his face, eyes widening and filling rapidly with tears, breathing coming quicker with panic as he felt the familiar pull, the irresistible tug, the force that moved his hand behind his back without his control and gripped the dagger. 

“No, no no, no!” Was all Anxiety could sob, fingers trembling around the handle of the blade as he tried desperately to resist.

“No? What? Anxiety, I- I don’t understand.” Prince sounded so lost, so confused so hurt and broken-hearted, but Anxiety could barely breathe through his panic and cries, could barely see through the blur of tears as he realised that this was it, he was about to kill Prince and there was nothing he could do about it!

“Why, w- what is it? Is it my politics? Your family?” The clock was still chiming, counting down the moments until Anxiety had to stab Roman.

“B- because those things aren’t important, what’s important is what is in our hearts.” Prince had stood up, was cupping Anxiety’s face and gazing into his eyes, hopeful and hurt and pleading. Anxiety couldn’t help but stare back, gaze full of sorrow and apologies and grief. "For our love is strong, and we can conquer anything!” Prince promised, voice hushed and careful, eyes glittering. Anxiety tried to take a deep breath, and push back the tears.

“I do love you, Ro.” His voice broke as he realised that those might be his last words to the Prince. Roman’s face cleared with relief, and a small sheen of happy tears and relief shone in his eyes. He’d been afraid Anxiety didn’t love him back. Anxiety sobbed. Prince still didn’t know why Anx was crying, but he pulled the boy into a hug, pressing his face into the darker boy’s neck. Anxiety’s entire body was shaking. The hug… the hug made it so much easier for Anxiety’s arm to position itself directly above Roman’s back, the wicked edge of the gleaming blade poised directly over where Prince’s heart would be.

Anxiety sobbed as he stared at the blade, at his own hand moving it. He listened to the chime of the clock, saw how much his hand was shaking as he tried desperately to move the dagger away from the man he loved. He fought. For the first time in a long time, he truly fought against his curse.

He could not stab Roman, he wouldn’t! His hand shook wildly, light reflecting off the trembling blade onto the mirrors surrounding them. He fought, he fought so hard against it; he couldn’t kill the man he loved. It was heart against magic, but his hand was slowly creeping closer to Prince’s back, and he couldn’t stop it, he wasn’t strong enough!

Anxiety sobbed and tore his gaze away from the blade, not wanting to have to look when it plunged into Roman’s heart. And he saw himself in a mirror.

He saw the tears slipping down his cheeks, saw Prince’s arms wrapped around him, saw Roman’s head on his shoulder, how his eyes were closed, saw how wildly the dagger was shaking as Anxiety tried to stop, met his own gaze in the mirror. It was unbearable; he felt so guilt. .He couldn’t kill someone so innocent, so good, someone who loved Anxiety, the one who Anxiety loved, couldn’t kill Roman! But the curse of obedience was forcing him to, and the clock was reaching it’s final chimes. He looked away from the mirror, unable to see the picture of what was about to unfold, only to look straight into the next mirror. He was surrounded by the reflection of he and Prince, the image of what he was about to do. He was surrounded, unable to escape the vivid picture of the crime he was about to commit. 

Suddenly Anxiety wanted to fight more, fight harder, because he could not watch as he killed Roman, could not stab Prince, couldn’t, wouldn’t! He would not be obedient any longer! Not when it was this! Not when he had to kill the only person he loved! Not when it was the king, the very man Anxiety had been fighting against for all of his life, the man Anxiety hated more than anything, that was making him do it. He would not!

Everything he had ever been told to do slipped into his head in whispers, all the cruelty he had endured from his ‘family’ and peers, all the horrible things he had done because of the curse, all the times he had tried to fight but given up. Anxiety heard it all, a new one for every time he saw himself in the mirror. This time, could not give up.

Love, he loved Roman too much for that. His mother had always said what was inside him was stronger than the ‘gift’, but he had never understood, never believed until now. Because the love he felt for Prince was holding his hand back, strengthening his mind and will, helping him fight, fight for the life of the one he loved. He would not kill him!

“I will no longer be obedient.” He croaked through his tears, and took a deep, shaky breath. Stronger. “I will no longer be obedient! I WILL NO LONGER BE OBEDIENT!” He yelled. The clock chimed for the final time.

The dagger clattered to the floor.

Anxiety gasped and sank to the ground, shaking, eyes wide, gasping for breath. Something inside him had just snapped, something constricting him, something that had been there for so long he’d never even realised it.

“I’m free.” He whispered, in shock and awe. He raised his head in amazement. “I don’t believe it. I’m free!”

Roman backed away, eyes wide with horror.

“You…” His voice came out as a whisper, and his gaze trailer from the dagger lying on the floor to Anxiety’s eyes. “You tried to kill me.” He sounded so shocked, so betrayed, so horrified and afraid that more tears immediately sprang to Anxiety’s eyes.

“No, no, Roman, I-” The door to the Room of mirrors swirled open, and the king stormed in.

“Guards!” 

Immediately a pair of armoured guards strode in, taking Anxiety by his arms and hauling him up.

“Wait, no, Ro please, I can explain, I can explain, please Prince, wait, no, don’t!” Anxiety begged, panicking as he was roughly lead out of the room. He was thrown in a tiny, dirty cell, and no matter how loud he called, nobody came to help him.

Anxiety was terrified.

But strangely, not for himself. For Roman. The king’s plan hadn’t worked, and now Anxiety was free, but that didn’t mean anything in terms of saving Prince’s life. The king would find another way. Ro was still in danger.

Anxiety didn’t know how many hours he spent sitting in that cell, but eventually he heard a familiar voice.

“Logan?” He gasped croakily.

“Anxiety?” There was the sound of running, and a moment later Logan sped around the corner.

“Logan! I’m so glad to see you!” Logan unlocked the cell door; somehow he had the keys. A rally of people Anxiety had met on the way were standing behind Logan. 

“I’m glad to see you too, Anx. Are you okay?” He asked.

“I’m okay, but Roman might not be!” Anxiety grabbed the book. “Show me the king!”

The book flicked open to show the king poisoning Roman’s crown.

“We gotta go. Come on, come on guys!” Anxiety yelled, rushing out, the small crowd of ragtag friends following close behind.

After that, everything was a blur. They crashed Prince’s coronation, fought the guards and everyone trying to stop them, Roman saved his life and they fought together, Anxiety explained in the middle of the battle, and told Prince about everything the king had done, including killing Roman’s father. Eventually they made their way up to the stage, where they managed to enrage the king into confessing, well, everything, to everyone in the hall. And then he was stupid enough, blinded by his fury, to put the poisoned crown on his own head.

A second later, the king dropped to the floor, dead.

And Anxiety got to embarrass his step sisters!

And then… well, Roman pulled him close, looked into Anxiety’s eyes, smiled, and calmly said, “Marry me?”

Anxiety only pretended to think about it for a second. “Now, that I’ll do.” He smiled, making Prince grin and his eyes sparkle, and pull Anxiety in for a long kiss.

Not long after that, they got married, and on the day of the wedding Anxiety had never, ever been happier. He felt like his heart was going to explode, as he broke away from the kiss with Roman and gazed around the hall, seeing all his friends cheering and smiling for him. Prince, of course, made a cheesy, hopelessly romantic speech, which made Anxiety blush and kiss him quickly.

There was a dance after that, which was surprisingly fun. Anxiety was almost ashamed at the amount of times he smiled and giggled at Roman as they twirled around. He even caught sight of Logan and Patton dancing together! 

It had taken a long time, but at last, everything was finally perfect.