Well let me know

The clothes have no emperor

Well, he's doing it now.

*cough*

Who's SirPeacemaker?

That guy's gotta be confused right now.

I would've said the death guard

You can tag it as [PI].

Thank you!

That is a massive compliment. Thank you.

I am SO incredibly sorry, it was 7 hours after I posted it so I assumed it was a lost cause so I deleted it so my profile would be a little less bloated and I had NO idea someone was typing PLEASE forgive me

Wait.. so the princesses stayed with them? Or why is it 'daughters'? Cause from what I get, they have a son and daughter, Tom and Helen

Wait.. so the princesses stayed with them? Or why is it 'daughters'? Cause from what I get, they have a son and daughter, Tom and Helen

Once upon a time, in a world of all-natural mages, there lived some who rebelled against the natural order of things. Rather than use plants and sunlight to heal and nurture, they used blood sacrifice to raise the dead and poison the living. These scalawags were known as dark mages and were hated and feared by all. One dark mage could conquer seventeen natural mages, however for every two thousand and thirty three natural mages, there was only half a dark mage. Dark mages lived in recluse, huddled in fear of being hunted, surrounded, and slaughtered by the all-naturals and their wimpy basil.

Luckily for the dark mages, or unluckily for the all-naturals, there was no way to tell a dark or natural apart. That is, aside from the hues of their magic. Pinching and prodding plants, soil and sun at all times infused all-natural magic with greens, browns and golds. Swirling blood and poison day in and out tainted dark magic with deep reds and violets. However as dark mages were few and far in between, many have only heard legends of the terrifying and captivating splendor of the twilight magic.

In a ramshackle cabin built on an island in the middle of the emerald bay, was an enchantingly gorgeous ragamuffin biblioklept who adored sneaking around town and swiping books. She was keenly interested in the art of beautifying her magic. For she was proud to be an all-natural, yet loathed the vile puke-green river sputtering from her fingertips. The visions of projectile vomit evoked nausea and queeze, so she tinkered and tampered, chasing the legend of the brilliant twilight hues.

Less than three moons passed before a gaggle of all-natural guardians gathered. The rumor of a dark mage hidden within this dingy town was a siren call, beckoning the proud and self-important from far and wide. Their hunt led them to a creepy, creaky cabin, surrounded by a moat of hazardous rapids - unmistakably the hideout of a ghastly dark mage. But when they surrounded and infiltrated, ready to deliver the killing blow, they found a dazzling young maiden canoodling her roses, violets and pansies. From her fingertips poured brilliant hues of reds and violets which shimmered and shined, nurturing and healing all. The guardians at the forefront stayed their assault, but the guardians at the rear were enlightened too late.

What was her sin? None other than to be a visionary, to break away from the humdrum of normalcy.

The resplendent young maiden perished, but gave rise to a wave that rippled throughout the kingdom. No longer did beauty indicate evil. No longer did puke-green reign above all. The lands were interwoven with magic of every color, and became a safe haven for the survivors who renamed themselves. The twilight mages.

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That princess is wack

I really felt as if Terry Pratchett himself wrote this. I've missed his writing for a very long time and this was a real comfort to read.

Six books and a movie!

We 'ill see, I was considering another PM for the upcoming saturday, one where I list most of my prompts I have written so far and see which ones people would want me to continue.

[removed]

I can't not see this being sir Samuel Vimes. He didn't rescue her for reward, just because it was the right thing to do.

Alright no totaly understand

Glad to be recognised

Just do me a soild and message me when you do?

Despite what many think of the abyss, that unlimited nothing below the world and all thought, I do not fear it. Friedrich Nietzsche is often quoted with that famous saying: "...if you gaze long enough into an abyss, the abyss will gaze back into you." I asked why such a thing was so terrible. Isn't an abyss simply a lack of everything but yourself? If anything it is a mirror, an echo chamber. At least, that is what I thought. I did look into the abyss, but it did not stop at gazing into me. It reached out with open arms and embraced me.

At the time I had been going through a lot of things: dying grandparents, parents finalizing their divorce, moving into an unfamiliar city to find work. I could tell I was stressed and unhappy, but what was i supposed to do except bear it? A friend espoused the wonders of meditation to me, so I tried it one weekend without any expectations.

That's how I found myself here, tired eyes decorated with bags looking into nothing, and a pair of arms darker than night holding me tenderly. I stood there, if you can call it standing without a floor, for a minute or two, allowing this small comfort to be. Then I realized how long it had been since I had gotten a simple hug. Three years, four? I couldn't tell, but decided it had been too long.

I sighed as my shoulders fell a little bit, making me wonder how long they'd been held up without my knowing. In fact I began to notice my whole body beginning to unwind. How had I not realized how tense I was? The arms rubbed up and down over my spine, gently swaying my body from side to side. I felt every ounce of strain leave me as though some unseen rain had washed it away.

Perhaps it really was raining, I felt water drip from my chin. A thumb gloved in twilight velvet traced from my chin to my eyes, swiping away the water. Oh, I'd begun crying without noticing it apparently. Maybe I had been worse off than I thought, if this was all it took to break the dam. The void simply pat my back, telling me without words that it was alright. I tried to hold back at first, but when I felt no judgement in this moment of vulnerability my attempts to rebuild a wall I didn't remember constructing ended up breaking it down even further.

Tears ran down my face without signs of stopping, my shoulders shook with my sobs. I allowed myself to acknowledge what I'd been pushing down. I missed my family, my dusty little town that I grew up in, my friends who I didn't talk to anymore. I missed my life before it became this scary thing I'd always heard about called "adulthood" that I hadn't realized would one day happen to me until it did. Through it all the abyss held me, and by this point I had wrapped my arms around whatever counted as its back as well. God, how tired I had been, still was.

As they always do my tears eventually dried up and I felt a little better after letting them out. My exhaustion had been replaced with a comfy tiredness, as though the abyss was some pickpocket who'd stolen my problems and left one of those little strawberry candies from my grandma's candy bowl in their place. I felt myself be swept off my feet in slow motion and rest upon a bed of moonlight; though, it must have been a new moon since I couldn't see the covers or pillows. Those arms were still wrapped firmly around me, and I drifted into a sleep deeper than any I'd slept before with the smallest of smiles brightening my face.

I woke up the next morning at peace. My problems still existed, but now felt much less heavy, easier to handle. My apartment, once so empty and dark, now felt inviting and lived-in, as if a friend was just in the other room. I didn't know what to call whatever had comforted me last night in my thanks, so I settled on a wordless feeling of gratitude and a smile with closed eyes in my quiet room. The phantom of warm arms encircled my chest again, a silent "you're welcome" from nothing.

Right now, not in the zone to continue that but, for some reason I had an odd moment of dejavu what comes on your name and I scrolled through my history in here reddit and was just "Oh, that why".

Like I say to any of the writers here

Write as long as you want

It's fine, if you have something coming up on real life, focus on that. I just decided to write that one more then up to you whether you want more.

I meant more precisely the trope of a princess locked in a lonely tower. Princesses in fairy tales are usually locked up in the highest towers of a castle or royal palace by a father who does not want her to lose her chastity. The only fairy tale I know of where a girl was locked up in a lonely tower in the middle of nowhere is Rapunzel. And Rapunzel isn't even a princess.