one of the hardest things to learn as a depressed former Gifted Kid™ is that half-assed is better than nothing. take the 50%, 40%, even 20% job. scrubbing your face is better than not taking a shower at all. picking up your clothes is better than never cleaning. nibbling on some bread is better than starving.
DO THINGS HALFWAY. NOW YOU’RE 100% BETTER OFF THAN YOU WERE BEFORE.
One of my college professors used to say “anything worth doing is worth doing poorly.” I didn’t understand that for years because I didn’t do anything poorly, I couldn’t do anything poorly, I had to Do Everything Perfectly.
But brushing your teeth for 30 seconds is better than not brushing them at all when that 2 minutes seems exhausting. Doing ten minutes of yoga is better than 10 minutes of sitting when 30 minutes of cardio sounds impossible. Changing my clothes is good when a whole shower is impossible. Standing on the porch for a few minutes is worth it after being in the house for three straight days because I don’t have the energy to go anywhere.
Anything worth doing is worth doing poorly… because doing it poorly is better than not doing it.
You must understand that perfectionism isn’t striving for excellence, it’s a crippling fear of being flawed and therefore worth abandonment or punishment. It’s a kind of psychological avoidance. You’re avoiding fear and failure , not embracing the thing you want to do bc if it was about the thing you want to do you’d be fine with partial victory.
"As new knight hopefuls of Camelot, you face the ultimate test of strength."
Merlin rolls his eyes as Arthur's voice rings out across the training grounds, and keeps polishing the sword across his knee.
"A test not only of strength, but of speed, courage—"
And agility, Merlin mouths along, exasperated. He must have heard this fucking speech a hundred times by now.
"—You face me."
Merlin breathes out heavily; hopefully loud enough for Arthur to hear it, and know how embarrassing it is for Merlin, to serve such a tit.
"Your challenge is to last until the sandglass is half done, and achieve ten points. Land a blow, that's two points. If you last until the end of the sandglass, that's three points. And if you disarm me, that's ten points on its own—but it's only happened once, so don't be too disappointed if you don't manage it. You're only human, unlike Lancelot here."
A chuckle ripples through the young men as Arthur claps Lancelot on the back in passing. Merlin grins as Lancelot stares at the ground, neck going pink at the praise.
"Lancelot got you flat on your back," Merlin calls out. "How many points is that?"
"Have you been at the ale again, Merlin?" Arthur shoots back. "No-one is going to do that. You're getting their hopes up for nothing."
"Oh, is that so?" Merlin's mouth runs on without him, and leaves his brain in the dust. "Bet you I could do it."
Now Lancelot is staring at him, face sounding his alarm as loud and clear as a cowhorn. Arthur, the prick, laughs—loud, obnoxious, head thrown back—and for a moment he reminds Merlin so strongly of that boy in the marketplace, so many years ago. He grins, despite himself.
"Go on, then," Arthur calls out, arms spread wide as he moves into the centre. "Show them how it's done, Merlin."
Merlin hesitates. For a moment, his brain wrestles for control.
Then he puts the sword down, and gets to his feet.
Arthur's eyes don't leave him. "Weapon of choice?"
"Hand to hand combat," Merlin answers, coming to stand in front of him. "If you're game."
"If I'm—" Arthur scoffs, breaking off. "Merlin, you idiot."
"What?" Merlin asks, brows raised. "Too scared?"
"Scared I'll snap you like a twig, maybe."
Merlin dips his head to the side, holds eye contact as he pushes his sleeves up his arms. His heart is trying to beat its way out of his chest, but he also feels strangely calm. The time has come. "Sure. Are you ready?"
"Yes, I'm ready," Arthur says, rolling his eyes. "Come on, then."
The men around them are starting to laugh already. Even Leon grins as he turns the sandglass over.
There's a long, tense, unmoving moment, where the two of them just watch each other. Arthur's lips are parted, the smile not quite gone but not quite there, either.
Then he moves—and he's fast, of course, strong and agile and all that wank.
But Merlin, without moving, has him on his back in the blink of an eye.
Arthur gasps, staring up at him, wild eyed and pinned to the ground, as the laughter among the men dies a sudden, swift death, replaced with the harsh metallic rasp of a dozen swords being drawn.
"Stop!" Arthur shouts, as some of the men move forward—Merlin sees Lancelot step forward at the same time. "Lower your weapons." And when none of them do: "Now."
Leon sheathes his sword. The young men, hesitantly, do so as well.
"Let me up, Merlin," Arthur says, voice tight.
Merlin instantly drops the spell. He feels sick. He feels relieved. He feels naked, and raw.
"Told you," he says, voice almost steady. He holds out a hand, less steadily.
Arthur stares at him for a long moment, and Merlin's heart begins to rip—but then he's reaching up, clasping his arm, and Merlin hauls him up to his feet, breathing out shakily.
Arthur holds onto his wrist for a long moment, holds his gaze too, before letting go of both. Then he turns, to face the tense onlookers.
"Change of plans," he says, roughly. "Lancelot and Leon will take you through the training. Merlin, you'll come with me."
"Going to execute me in private?" Merlin half jokes, following on numb legs as Arthur strides towards the castle. It's starting to catch up with him just how stupid that had been. Gaius is going to kill him, if Arthur doesn't.
"I'm tempted," Arthur says, and there is a bitter note there, in his voice. Merlin's put it there. He hates himself a bit, even though he wouldn't mind yelling at Arthur that he had no choice, he'd have had his head cut off for revealing himself when Uther was still alive.
But then Arthur sighs. "No, I need your help."
"What? Digging my own grave?" Merlin can't seem to stop himself, as he follows him down the corridor, the air far cooler inside the castle than out.
"Are you always this morbid?" Arthur snaps exasperatedly, twisting to face him. "No, you idiot, apparently there are some laws that need revising, immediately."
Merlin gapes at him. "What, just like that?"
"Yes, just like that!" Arthur yells. "What, do you want me to throw you in the dungeons? I'll do it. Happily!"
"Arthur."
"Or shall I send the order for the pyre to be built? So I can watch my—so I can watch you burn until you're screaming, is that it? Is that what you think I'd do?"
"Arthur." Merlin walks him backwards, keeps going until they're tucked into an alcove that's really not built for two grown men. Arthur is breathing hard, eyes wet and angry. "I wanted to tell you, for so long. Since the very beginning."
He reaches out, slowly, and feels Arthur shudder as he runs a hand carefully up the side of his neck, to cup his face, thumb stroking back and forth along Arthur's jaw.
"I was scared," Merlin whispers, swallowing hard at the truth of it, "to lose you."
Arthur chokes out a rough, wet noise, as Merlin leans in to run his nose along the ridge of Arthur's. "You're stupider than you look, then."
Merlin laughs, and kisses him, just like that. "Yeah."
And he kisses him again.
Again.
Again.
Strength @merthurmicrofic + Arthur finds out @merlinbingo {1060 words}
Some of my favorite words and phrases to describe a character in pain
coiling (up in a ball, in on themselves, against something, etc)
panting (there’s a slew of adjectives you can put after this, my favorites are shakily, weakly, etc)
keeling over (synonyms are words like collapsing, which is equally as good but overused in media)
trembling/shivering (additional adjectives could be violently, uncontrollably, etc)
sobbing (weeping is a synonym but i’ve never liked that word. also love using sob by itself, as a noun, like “he let out a quiet sob”)
whimpering (love hitting the wips with this word when a character is weak, especially when the pain is subsiding. also love using it for nightmares/attacks and things like that)
clinging (to someone or something, maybe even to themselves or their own clothes)
writhing/thrashing (maybe someone’s holding them down, or maybe they’re in bed alone)
crying (not actual tears. cry as in a shrill, sudden shout)
dazed (usually after the pain has subsided, or when adrenaline is still flowing)
wincing (probably overused but i love this word. synonym could be grimacing)
doubling-over (kinda close to keeling over but they don’t actually hit the ground, just kinda fold in on themselves)
heaving (i like to use it for describing the way someone’s breathing, ex. “heaving breaths” but can also be used for the nasty stuff like dry heaving or vomiting)
gasping/sucking/drawing in a breath (or any other words and phrases that mean a sharp intake of breath, that shite is gold)
murmuring/muttering/whispering (or other quiet forms of speaking after enduring intense pain)
hiccuping/spluttering/sniffling (words that generally imply crying without saying crying. the word crying is used so much it kinda loses its appeal, that’s why i like to mix other words like these in)
stuttering (or other general terms that show an impaired ability to speak — when someone’s in intense pain, it gets hard to talk)
staggering/stumbling (there is a difference between pain that makes you not want to stand, and pain that makes it impossible to stand. explore that!)
recoiling/shrinking away (from either the threat or someone trying to help)
pleading/begging (again, to the threat, someone trying to help, or just begging the pain to stop)
Feel free to add your favorites or most used in the comments/reblogs!
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