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beacon-lamp · 3 years

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with hermitcraft season 7 slowly coming to an end, i figured it was time to consolidate all of the Informative Posts about hermitcraft that i and some of the other members of hermitblr have made over the last several months.

if you enjoy:

minecraft youtube content, but want to see more traditional vanilla minecraft gameplay like building and redstone

fun, lighthearted interactions between genuine friends including Elaborate pranks, collaborating on massive projects, light roleplay, proximity voice chat mod

weekly 20 - 40 minute long youtube videos and consistent upload schedules

chill grind stream weekends where CCs interact with chat and each other

an entire youtube channel dedicated to weekly 20-minute recap videos on what all the hermits have been up to so you don’t have to piece it together from the posts on your dash/timeline

insanely talented people who have been doing mcyt for nearly, if not more than, a decade and essentially built minecraft youtube from the ground up

give hermitcraft a try!

you will find all of the information you will Ever Need below the cut. it’s Very Long so view it on desktop.

and if you ever have any more questions, just shoot me an ask :)

what is hermitcraft?

the Basics: what, who, where, how

more details on the Basics

bonus: the historical impact many hermitcraft members have had on mcyt

where do i even start watching?

start with grian.

good mix of Incredible builds and fun server shenanigans. instigator of many server-wide events. interacts with many other hermits. generally entertaining to watch. but zero redstone knowledge.

check out hermitcraft recap.

great way to be introduced to other hermits and learn what everyone’s up to. if you find what a hermit’s been working on interesting, go watch their video and maybe give them a like and subscribe.

official hermitcraft website with links to every member’s channel

more information on every hermit’s attributes and general vibes

do hermits every stream?

short answer: yes, most do! but these streams are mostly chill grinding or buildling streams. and you don’t have to watch the streams to be caught up on content. check the official hermitcraft website for each member’s twitch links.

long answer that covers most of the hermits

what do they do on hermitcraft?

let’s start with some examples of their incredible builds.

hermit cribs: some of the megabases in s7

goodtimeswithscar’s s7 magical village with shaders

stressmonster’s bakery and ren’s star wars world

Capitalism

they have a shopping district where hermits can set up shops and sell items and resources that other hermits can buy with diamonds. here’s season 7 shopping district set on a mooshroom island:

some of the most advanced redstone you’ve ever seen

if you’re more into the technical side of minecraft, you can be rest assured that hermitcraft has some of the Biggest Brains in redstone.

tangotek: a fucking madlad. Singled-handedly created the minigame Decked Out. im Begging you to watch his tutorial video on how to play. currently finishing up his Among Us but in minecraft minigame. all of this was built Entirely in survival vanilla minecraft. get this man to 1M subscribers.

mumbo jumbo: the man himself. built a 128 x 128 block industrial district in both season 6 and 7 packed to the Brim with mechanical farms. half the brain behind the masterpiece of engineering that was Sahara in season 6. currently working on Pacific, the sequel to Sahara, in season 7.

iskall85: the other half of the brain behind Sahara and working on Pacific with mumbo in season 7. also has an industrial district like mumbo’s in season 7.

xisuma: built an automatic potion brewer in the second half of season 7. this thing churns out potions by the Shulker Box. can also turn a shulker box full of potions into splash potions and extend duration all with a press of a button.

impulseSV: incredible example of form + function. farms are scattered throughout his base. he has a farm for nearly every farmable resource in vanilla minecraft.

etho: the pioneer of some of the most widely used redstone mechanisms to date. content isn’t super redstone-focused. mostly does compact modules that serve a specific function.

zedaph: makes strange contraptions. he’s basically if grian knew how to redstone. impeccable vibes and fairly underrated.

bdoubleo100: he occassionally does this segment called “redstone with bdubs” and it’s the only redstone i understand so that’s why he’s here.

what about roleplay? and lore?

yeah they have Plenty of that too.

it generally comes in the form of self-contained storylines that involve most members on the server and take place over the course of several weeks in multiple videos. it’s fairly light roleplay, if that’s not your thing. but the plotlines also have a Massive Potential to be angsty and whatnot if you really look into it, which a lot of people also do.

here’s a more in-depth look into the Major Plotlines over the last 2 seasons (season 6 and 7). huge spoiler warning though.

um also there’s this post that highlights how truly cursed hermitcraft can be if you dig deep enough hahaha.

so do the hermits only make hermitcraft content?

nope!! many of them are involved in other mcyt content as well and are friends with other prominent members of the mcyt community!!

MCC

mcc9 blue bats video essay: the time the hermit team won the whole damn competition. a wonderfully made video worth Every second of your time. especially if you don’t typically watch the hermit teams.

falsesymmetry: mcc10 ace and mcc’s First Back-to-Back Winner

lord grian dreamslayer: that time grian Popped Off, killing dream, tubbo, and fundy in mcc9 survival games

Vault Hunters

a modded minecraft server coded entirely by iskall85′s team. all the content is streamed live on twitch.

current members are: Iskall85, AntonioAsh, Stressmonster101, HBomb94, CaptainSparklez, Fundy, CaptainPuffy, 5UP and Tubbo

more info on the series

3rd Life SMP

hardcore minecraft server with a twist that started on 4/20/21. all content is posted to each member’s respective youtube channels.

every member has 3 lives, as indicated by the color of their name: green for 3 lives left, yellow for 2, red for 1. if they lose all three lives, they can only spectate the world (like in hardcore mode). the series ends when all members have lost all three lives.

the twist: once a member is on their 3rd and final life, as indicated by a red name, they are Hostile and their goal is to take the lives of the remaining players.

the members (hermits are italicized): BdoubleO100, bigbst4tz2, Etho, GoodTimesWithScar, Grian, impulseSV, InTheLittleWood, Renthedog, Skizzleman, Smajor1995, Smallishbeans, SolidarityGaming, Tango, ZombieCleo

the tumblr tag for 3rd Life is “#3rdLife”, “#3rdLifeSMP” and “#3LSMP” if you wanna see more content, as it’s Not supposed to be cross-tagged with “#hermitcraft”.

do you have any free serotonin to spare?

here’s a bunch of posts that’ll make you smile

scar’s friendship with a bunch of the hermits

grian, false, cleo, bdubs, iskall: why they deserve so much respect

same post as above but with an addition about ren

small hermit things that give you serotonin

why you should watch tfc

if you’ve made it this far you are Contractually Obligated* to watch one (1) hermitcraft episode and reblog this post.

*for legal reason, this is a joke. you’re not contractually obligated but consider this: Please. i spent way too much time on this.

shoutout to everyone who’s posts i’ve linked and anyone who has helped answer a question about hermitcraft. this all started because i was frustrated that people were writing the hermits off as cannon fodder in mcc and im genuinely so glad that many of you have given hermitcraft a shot.

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eloquent-vowel · 3 years

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I have had a few bucky x read fic ideas bouncing around in my head and i cant write! So here is one,

Sam find a person who stairs and doesnt talk a whole lot because they uses ✨telepathy ✨. So Sam think they would be a good fit for Bucky, but he doesn’t know they have that power he just thinks they are mute. Then there is a thing where the reader is telling Buck how it works and they if they have something to connect them together like an object *reader motions to dog tags* they can have an unbreakable mind link. Then they fall in love or something. This is dumb, thank you for coming to my TedTalk

Hey! Thank you so much for this request, it wasn't dumb at all. I really enjoyed writing this. I may have gotten a bit carried away, this may sit close to 4000 words but we vibe. I hope this is what you had in mind! Please enjoy! <3

Click here for my masterlist of other fics and check in my bio for requests if anyone wishes to ask!

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Bucky had been enjoying a moments peace, he loved working with Sam but sometimes all he wanted was to put his feet up, put on some vinyl and enjoy a good cup of coffee all while reading a brilliant book. He had been trying to get into Game of Thrones lately, on Sam’s insistence, and he had been enjoying it. With the crackles of Glenn Miller from the turntable he missed the clunky footsteps coming up the stairs.

The sight that greeted Sam needed to be photographed. Bucky was lounging back on his ‘old man armchair’ feet up, hair in a towel, in a bathrobe, coffee in hand and facemask on, this was definitely one for the family album.

At the sound of the phone shutter Bucky practically launched himself out of the chair.

“Oh, you are never gonna live this one down old boy, it’s going to haunt you.” Sam almost cackled evilly as he began to email the photo to himself- he had learnt the hard way that Bucky was very proficient at breaking phones.

“You better not upload that photo anywhere, Wilson, I have a reputation to uphold.”

“Pfft, reputation, that’s funny.”

Bucky scoffed as he stood up, placing his book carefully on the side table, “Big scary super soldier, people hardly run-in fear from a guy in a bathrobe.”

“I disagree, a man in a bathrobe is definitely something you should run from. AH NOPE!” Sam jumped backwards, on top of a nearby chair, as Bucky lunged for the phone, towel turban falling off in the process. “You are not breaking this phone as well.”

“Fine. But you gotta promise not to post that anywhere.” Bucky huffed.

“I won’t.”

“Good.”

“As long as- “

“Oh no, I’m not doing anything for you.”

“Think of it as payment for the last phone you broke and insurance for this picture.”

There was silence for a moment as the two friends eyed each other up. Sam raised his eyebrows, Bucky’s eyes narrowed. It was an intense staring match between a guy in a bathrobe and a precariously balanced man. A clock ticked.

“Fine.” Bucky conceded. “What do you want?”

“For you to come to a meeting.”

“The families of Veterans ones?”

“Yeah.” Sam slowly started climbing down from the chair. “And before you get your old man pants in a twist, I’m not trying to force you to talk or anything, kinda.”

“Kinda?” Suspicion laced through Bucky’s voice.

“You know sign language, right?”

“Which kind?”

“American? I think?”

“Yeah, I know ASL, might be a bit rusty but I’m sure it still holds up. Why do you ask?”

Sam shifted slightly on his feet, “There’s this person, they come in every week and listen. I tried to talk to them, but they communicate through sign language, and I don’t have anyone there to talk with them.” He cast his eyes to the floor, “I feel bad. They were brave enough to come to the group only to basically be ignored ‘because we didn’t plan well enough.”

Bucky smiled, face mask crinkling around his smile lines, “You could have just asked me to Sam. You didn’t have to blackmail me into this, of course I’ll help. When’s the next meeting?”

“This evening. You gonna be ready or do you need some more ‘me’ time.”

Bucky simply chuckled at Sam’s teasing tone, patted his shoulder making sure to squeeze just a bit too hard before retreating to his room.

“I’ll be there, Wilson, and I will look so much younger than you!”

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It was frustrating to you, going along to these meetings and not being able to communicate. You could always speak into someone’s mind but all that usually accomplished was a very paranoid person. But just listening to other’s stories really helped the grief from losing someone so close to you. You related to most of the people there and even though they didn’t understand you a lot of the time, you were always made to feel welcome- with friendly pats on the back and the odd tissue thrown your way.

You bustled into the familiar building with a new sense of excitement as Sam had promised to bring a translator for you this week. It was finally time to say your thanks to some of the people there and finally let the group know about your brother, so that it wasn’t only you that remembered him.

You all but ran through the hallways until you caught sight of a familiar smiling man. Sam was facing you, talking animatedly to another man, the strangers back was to you. He was tall, broad shouldered and dressed in a vintage looking leather jacket and rather well fitted trousers. Now the debate was: does the tailoring make the ass, or does the ass make the tailoring. You were halfway through the arguments on either side when Sam shouting your name disrupted the intense debating in your mind. You blushed at being caught, then blushed some more when you caught sight of the stranger’s face. Twinkling blue eyes under a deep-set brow should have made him intimidating, but he was smiling, and his face was dazzling. There was an immediate fluttering in your stomach.

“Hey, I’m Bucky.” Dear lord even his voice was nice, what made you smile even more was the fact that he signed as he spoke. Well, Sam certainly knew how to pick them well. “Sam introduced me; said you wanted an interpreter.”

You nodded as you signed back, “Nice to meet you, thank you for helping out.”

“No problem, Sam has told me a bit about you.”

“Good things I hope.”

“Okay I recognise my own name, you two better not be conspiring against me.” Sam piped up, to be honest you had forgotten about him for a moment.

Bucky laughed, and it sent a little thrill down you, he really was adorable.

“No worries, Wilson, just letting them know all your dirty little secrets.”

“Right, you two get in there, before you make me sleep with one eye open.”

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You and Bucky caught each other’s eye, his eyes were twinkling with mischief, and you couldn’t help the smile that overtook you. You had a feeling that the two of you would get on just fine.

The meeting passed easily. Bucky translated your signs and you finally felt like you could actually take part in these meetings. Everyone listened intently when you spoke of your brother and when you had thanked the whole group for being so open to you a couple of people shed a tear. By the end of the meeting though you were tired and very accepting of Bucky’s offer to walk you home.

It was a lot of side glances and hidden smiles and you walked side by side. Drawn to each other under the moonlit sky, it was nice to just be in the presence of someone who had such a kind aura. You spent the walk trying to work up the confidence to sign something, anything but nothing came to mind and Bucky seemed quite content to just walk in comfortable silence.

You soon reached your home, you turned to Bucky with a smile on your face and signed,

“Thanks for today, Bucky. You were really helpful.”

“No problem.” He signed back,

You hesitated slightly before signing, “Would you be happy to have a coffee with me, tomorrow?”

Bucky went a little red in the face, and chuckled, “I would love to, I know a nice place, real cosy. I’ll text you the details.”

“You know how to text?”

“Hey! I get enough stick from Sam, don’t need you getting on my case too. I’ll have you know that I am very adaptable.”

“Sure, Sure.” You smiled at his flustered tone. “I’ll wait for your text then, have a good evening.”

“You too.”

The two of you stared slightly awkwardly at each other, neither wanting to be the first to turn around. You shuffled your feet away slowing, smiling awkwardly once more at Bucky before turning. You heard his footsteps start to fade away as you walked towards your home. You were but three steps to the door when a large figure in a hoodie slammed into you, you raised your arms instinctively to block them when you noticed your shoulder was lighter. The bastard had stolen your bag.

You immediately took chase, chasing around the corner you just walked down but they were fast, faster then you at least. As you rounded the corner you caught sight of Bucky walking ahead. The thief wouldn’t stand a change against him. Without a second thought you cast your thoughts towards Bucky,

“Bucky! Thief! My Bag! Behind you!”

You saw Bucky flinch slightly then turn bewildered, his eyes widening when he saw you hurting towards him, chasing the hooded figure. He caught on and launched after the thief as well, with barely any effort he knocked the thief to the ground, grabbed your bag and whipped out his phone to call the cops.

Well, that was hot.

You took your bag back, immediately checking that you brother’s lucky coin was in the zippy pocket, to your relief it was still there. You looked up to see Bucky staring at you with a very puzzled look on his face. You sighed before casting your thoughts to his head once more,

“I’ll explain later.”

Bucky let out a strange, decompressed noise of shock, it made you giggle. The two of you waited in silence until the police came and took the thief away. The police car had barely driven away when he turned to you.

“Did you just, talk in my head? Or did my conscious just suddenly get really loud.”

“I did. Hi. Sorry about that.”

He waved his hands dismissively. “Believe it or not, not the weirdest thing I’ve encountered.”

“Well, that’s reassuring.”

There was an awkward silence.

“So,” You started, resorting back to sign language, it felt less invasive, “Still down for coffee?”

Bucky smiled, “One hundred percent. I’ll see you tomorrow?”

“Yeah. Bye Bucky. Thanks for getting my bag back.”

“No problem, see ya.”

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The coffee shop that Bucky invited you to, was tucked away, it was the kind of place that you would stumble over on accident. With a simple door and a big window out the front, that lead soft orange light filter out onto the alley. There was the faint sound of jazz leaking out of the building, you smirked. It was such an old fashioned place, of course this was where Bucky frequented.

The bell tinkled slightly as you entered the café, where you were greeted with the smell of fresh coffee and baked goods. You caught sight of Bucky’s broad shoulders sitting in the corner, and you made your way over to him, smiling at the barista as you passed.

As if sensing you, Bucky turned to smile and wave. He was dressed in casual clothes like last time, but this time his hair was loose around his shoulders. You smiled back before settling into the seat opposite him.

His hands moved hesitantly as he signed, “What would you like? I can recommend their hot chocolate, its very warming/”

“Hot chocolate it is.”

You could tell he wanted to ask you a million questions but to his credit he walked slowly to get the drinks, he even took his time carefully carrying the tray of drinks back to your table. He placed a delicious looking hot chocolate in front of you. You watched as he took a sip.

5, 4, 3, 2, 1-

“So,” Here we go, “What is it you can do, you can speak in peoples’ heads, can you,” He lowered his voice and leaned in, “Can you read people’s minds?”

You giggled slightly, his eyes were basically sparkling, he was definitely nerding out about this.

You set the hot chocolate down before casting your thoughts to his head, “I can speak in peoples heads relatively easily, it’s how I talk most of the time to people I know. I guess you could call it Telepathy.”

Bucky’s eyes were as wide as saucers, “So you can’t read thoughts, only… speak them?”

“I like to call it casting, makes me feel like a sorcerer. I can read thoughts, but it takes a lot of energy. I used to be able to talk with my brother from across the house. That usually requires some kind of connection.”

“Oh, so like a blood or family connection? Do you have to know the person very well?”

“That certainly helps but it’s not always necessary. If I have a personal object that belongs to that person, something I can hold and connect to them it isn’t hard to make a two-way connection. Especially if that person is willing to open their mind.”

Bucky seemed to be caught in thought for a second. “So, if I were to give you something of mine, we could both talk in our… heads?”

“Well yes, but Bucky we have only just met. Letting me into your head is a lot. I try not to pry but sometimes I’ve found that thoughts just burst through. Let’s get to know each other a before that happens.”

Bucky smiled at you before speaking and signing, “You’re right. Let’s get to know one another. I find you fascinating.”

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It happened on the fifth date. Bucky was just walking you home after a lovely dinner at a small Italian that he claimed he went to back in the 40s. Just outside your door, under the glow of a lamppost he turned to you and took a deep breath before speaking.

“I know this may be a lot, but I wanted to give you these.” He reached around his neck and pulled off something silver. You gasped slightly as he held out his dog tags, immaculately preserved after all these years.

“Are you sure, Bucky? This is a lot.”

“I know and if you aren’t comfortable with it then just let me know but I want to give them to you.”

“You know what this means Bucky?”

“Yeah, I know, I just figured that you’re already in my head all the time anyways, just can’t seem to get you out of it.”

“You cheeseball.” You smirked at him before taking the dog tags and placing them around your neck. You gripped the cold metal for a moment, concentrating on the man in front of you. Taking everything, you knew about him and stretching out a connection, like a hand reaching out to clasp another.

“Testing, Testing, Testing, one two, one two, can my Telepathic partner hear me?”

You laughed, “Yes I can Bucky, you big dork.”

Bucky whooped out loud before sweeping you up in a big hug. The two of you laughing under the lamp light. His joy was infectious, and you couldn’t fight the smile off your face.

“Oh, we are going to have so much fun messing with Sam.”

“You’re evil.”

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Of course, the two of you made a pact not to tell Sam until he worked it out, which wouldn’t be anytime soon according to Bucky. It led to some very memorable moments and Sam refusing to play any form of card or board game with either of you because you always managed to win, somehow. Not to mention all the times you had spoken in eery unison around him.

“I swear, its like you two can read each other’s minds sometimes.” Sam threw his hands up in frustration at another lost game of charades.

You smirked at Bucky across the room, “Should you tell him, or shall I?”

“I think he’s been through enough, I got it.”

Bucky cleared his throat, “We can.”

Sam whipped around to face Bucky, a look of sheer disbelief on his face, “Seriously Bucky-boy, if you think I believe that after all-

“Hello Sam.” You cast your thoughts to him, in the creepiest old lady voice you could muster.

Sam yelped, before turning accusingly at you, “You better be joking around with me right now, I am not dealing with any kind of ghosts in this house.”

“Sorry! Surprise I’m telepathic!”

“You’re serious.”

You nodded.

Sam put his head in his hands and sighed, “Not the weirdest thing ever. Wait, does this mean you have been cheating this entire time.”

You both looked guiltily at one another.

“You owe me. That poker night, void.”

You both laughed, “We’ll have a fair rematch this time Sam.”

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It had been close to a year since you had made it official with Bucky and you were now much more comfortable around one another. He no longer just dropped you off at the lamppost but cam inside with you. You had spent many lovely mornings together sharing glances over steaming cups of coffee. Fighting each other for who got to spread their legs out on the couch, there wasn’t really a loser though as it usually ended up in sofa cuddles for both of you, while watching a film.

Life was pretty great, you thought, as you smiled down at the sleeping Bucky beside you. Finally reaching over to turn off the lamp and put your book down, you were finally reading the hobbit at Bucky’s insistence. As you clicked off the light beside you and settled down you noticed the faster than usual breathing coming from beside you.

“Bucky?”

You reached out, thinking he was awake but instead as you opened up your connection you caught flashes of night terrors. You were falling indefinitely, snow all around you, and in the distance, there were cries of pain, people pleading for their lives, there was gunfire and explosions. You gasped and took off the dog tags. You only gave yourself a moment to breathe before trying to shake Bucky awake. When it became clear that he wasn’t stirring you steadied yourself and settled your hands on his temples. You didn’t care you tired this would make you, you just wanted Bucky to stop suffering. You focused, offering out that hand of connection again, this time picturing it in the shape of a fist and, although it wasn’t subtle, you tried to shake Bucky’s brain awake. You forced your way into his dreams, punching through the dark fog that clouded his thoughts and almost screamed at him.

“Bucky! Bucky wake up! You’re dreaming my dear!”

Bucky woke up with a start. Tears flowing down his face, he stared at you blue eyes shining. No one spoke as he pulled you into his arms. You just breathed together for a moment, counting the breaths and the spaces in between. When he finally pulled back, you saw his eyes flicker with concern before lifting a hand to gently wipe under your nose, it came back red with blood.

“You, okay?”

You smiled sadly, reaching out to put the dog tags back on.

“I should be asking you that.”

“But you’re bleeding.”

“Occupational hazard.” You tried to subtly get rid of any of the extra blood. “That was pretty intense. Wanna talk?”

Bucky looked down to the sheets and shook his head. You smiled at him, tilting his head to yours.

“That’s fine, want me to go? Or would you like to cuddle for a bit?”

Bucky didn’t talk again, just pulled you gently down to the bed once more. Snuggling himself under your chin, resting his head on your chest. You felt his arms draw tightly against your waist. You pressed your lips into his hair.

“May I help you go to sleep? Keep the bad thoughts at bay for at least one night.”

You felt Bucky nod and let out a little sleepy hum of agreement. You closed your eyes, focused on your connection setting up a golden wall against the dark fog at the corners of his mind and settled into a deep sleep.

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You woke to the smell of fresh coffee and the clinking of cups.

“Morning.” You opened your eyes at Bucky’s voice and took the offered cup greedily. Your mind still felt hazy from the energy you used last night.

You felt the bed dip beside you as Bucky sat and sipped at his cup as well, hair a bit of a mess from bed. He had evidently only just woken up as well.

He took a breath, “I had some pretty interesting dreams, sweetheart.”

You stiffened, “Good ones I hope.”

“Don’t worry, they were good. If a little strange.”

“Strange?”

“I was watching myself most of the time.”

You snorted into the coffee, “Sounds creepy”

There was a slight chuckle, “Nah, I was watching myself build a home, a family- “

“Oh God Bucky.” You snapped your eyes to his, you knew what had happened. “I am so sorry my dreams must have stuck in your head.”

“Those were your dreams?”

“Yeah, its only happened once before but when the connection between two people is very strong, it can happen- I call it bleeding. Perhaps we should- “

“If the next words out of your mouth are take a break, I will spill your coffee.” You clutched your cup closer to your chest, “Truthfully, those were some of the beset dreams I have every had. I really loved them.”

You looked back up at him, hesitantly “You did?”

“And I love you.”

“Huh

There was silence as you stared at him in shock. His face as nothing but adoration as the sunlight filtered over his face.

“I love you, sweetheart.”

“I love you too.”

Coffee cups were cast aside as you both collided. Giggling and joking, radiating happiness as the two of you shared the sweetest kiss. Your feelings merging together, amplifying one another until they shone brighter than the sun.

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writeyouin · 3 years

Text

Swerve X Reader – Changes - Chapter 7

Chapter 7 – A Rescue Without a Plan

A/N – Finally back to this baby, and boy am I glad to be back.

Warnings – None.

Rating – T

“Making your way in the world today, takes everything you've got. Taking a break from all your worries, sure would help a lot.” You sang the Cheers song quietly in your cell, concentrating heavily on the cell bars.

Ever since you had forced yourself to calm down, streams of information had come flooding across your optics, revealing structural strengths and weaknesses to everything you looked at. You hoped to find something about the electrified bars that might lead to your escape, but so far, all the weaknesses were ones you couldn’t exploit from within the cell. You had long since given up on desperately trying to contact the Lost Light, figuring that something was blocking your comms.

You sighed, giving up on your song, a childish idea coming to mind. You knew nothing would come of it, but a smile reached your lips as you stared at your hand, “Go-Go-Gadget, Lock Pick.”

Naturally, nothing happened, but at least you were entertained, so you continued the game, taking comfort in the familiar words. “Go-Go-Gadget, Gun. Go-Go-Gadget, Scanner. Go-Go-Gadget, Blow Torch-” You jumped back in shock as one of your fingertips split open at the command, a strong blue flame roaring up from the split. You didn’t know whether you should be praising Brainstorm, for this was most certainly his addition, or cursing him for the cartoonish way you had accessed the tool. You were almost afraid to wonder how many of your body’s other commands were linked to the phrase Go-Go-Gadget.

Without wasting any more time, you put the flame to the bars, beginning the laborious process of escaping your cell.

As you worked, you had one more idea which you hastily tried, “Go-Go-Gadget, Manual.”

Before your optics, a string of writing cropped up, instructions on how your Cybertronian body worked. “Play audio,” You said, having been introduced to the opening menu. Perceptor’s voice filled your audials, starting your tutorial on your new body. You vented air through your systems and got to work, studying during your attempted escape.

Once he had been released from his cell, Swerve spent all of his time at the Lost Light’s shooting range, his aim never improving despite his efforts. He knew he had little hope of becoming a soldier in the time it would take to get to you, but he didn’t care, so long as he had something to keep him occupied. How could other humans be so cruel as to throw you of all people in a battle arena? You were kind and compassionate, and you would never have even considered harming another species, claiming that all were equal.

Swerve had often found you crying over books wherein humans had treated others terribly, mostly among their own species. He remembered asking you why you chose to read such books as The Diary of Anne Frank or Boy Erased, if they only served to make you upset, and you had replied that they were important to read lest history be repeated from ignorance. It was awful to think that you, the most empathetic of souls, were going to be scrapped for the entertainment of others.

Swerve knew they didn’t have long to rescue you. If the Arena’s advertisements were to be believed, you would be entering one of their battles in less than three cycles, when the new contestants would arrive to scrap you.

Swerve couldn’t forget the picture they had uploaded of you on the advertisement. You had been harmed in ways he never wanted to see, deep gashes in your arms and visible dents everywhere, yet in the picture, you were defiantly angry. He alone could recognise the fear beneath, but he couldn’t be prouder to see that you weren’t giving your captor the satisfaction of your apprehension.

He reloaded his gun, aiming it at the target, imagining it was your captors. Despite his anger, he missed, hitting a spot on the wall at least six feet from the target. Coolant sprung to his optics. You were in danger and he was completely useless. He couldn’t pilot the ship, he couldn’t shoot, it wasn’t even him that had discovered your location; that had been Nightbeat while he was too busy feeling sorry for himself. He was useless.

Rodimus’ voice rang clear through Swerve’s comms. It was a channel he had left open until you were found; that way anyone who needed him could contact him.

“Swerve, get to the board room. We have news on (Y/N).”

Swerve brusquely wiped the coolant from his optics, throwing the gun on the table before leaving. As soon as he was in the hallway, he transformed, speeding to the board room, eager for any information he could get, yet also terrified about what it could mean for you.

He didn’t say anything as he entered, his attention, like everyone else’s drawn to the video-feed of the Arena, where a human woman in acid-green armour was speaking.

“Greetings to fans, peasants, and nobles alike. It is I, Lady Ouida, your adored host of the Arena.”

Lady Ouida. Swerve glared at her holographic form, now having a name and a face to put to his enemy.

“As all of us betting royals know, there is to be a new competitor here. The foul-mouthed mini menace has refused to state her name, but we don’t care about that. We only care about one thing and one thing only. Which of our noble competitors will be the one to take her out?”

Banners depicting different armoured competitors unfurled around Lady Ouida; the scumbags that would try to take your life.

“In this message to all of you, my lovely subjects, I would like to make a special announcement. Although we had planned to set the battle for three cycles time, we have hit a little snag.”

Warmth flared in Swerve’s spark, as he hoped that the battle would be delayed even further, giving the Lost Light more time for your rescue.

Lady Ouida snapped her fingers, motioning for someone off-screen to do her bidding. The hope that Swerve had dared to feel was quickly extinguished as several trucks with chain attachments drove forward, dragging you behind them, the chains affixed to your arms.

“Our little menace here was caught roaming the halls of our fair kingdom, trying to escape her fate. She may not look like much, but she has proved to be very resourceful indeed, which I am sure you’ll keep in mind when betting.”

It looked like you desperately wanted to retort, but a modified gag stopped you from doing so. It didn’t stop you from attempting to kick at several of your captors, your pede falling short of its mark.

“NO!” Swerve cried out as you were electrocuted, making you fall to the floor. The others in the room spared him looks of pity before their attention returned to Lady Ouida.

“Spirited, is she not?” The Lady continued, spurred on by your attempted attack. “Alas, that brings me to my next point. We cannot keep her subdued for long and as such, we will have to cut betting short. You will have till the end of the cycle, for at dawn THE BATTLE BEGINS.”

The feed ended with a screen of competitors and their odds against you.

Rodimus wasted no time in addressing the room, all traces of his usual playfulness gone. “ETA to the Arena?” He asked no one in particular.

“Two cycles at most,” One of the Co-pilots answered.

“Not good enough. If you have to burn out the engines, you’ll get us there tonight. Strategy?”

Megatron brought up a hologram for the planet, pointing out the building on the map, a modernised castle with plasma-turrets as its main defences. “If it were me, I’d have the turrets hacked. The fastest route to the Arena itself is by the West wall. The ship is far too big to hide, so our best option is an outright assault. We could blast through the walls with an Alpha team. Meanwhile, a smaller Beta Team could attack the Northern ramparts, where we believe the prison cells to be located, in case (Y/N) is still being held there.”

“Who’s our hacker for this?”

“We have an accomplished team that will be led by Skids.”

“What will we need to get through the castle’s walls?”

“Ultra Magnus assures me that he has a supply of confiscated weapons from Whirl and Brainstorm.”

Rodimus nodded in acknowledgement, “You know Megatron, it’s rare, but on occasions such as this, I’m glad that you’re a crazed war-lord with a lot of strategic experience.”

Megatron looked uncomfortable at the compliment but didn’t comment.

Swerve raised his hand in what he assumed was a military fashion, “I’d like to be in the Alpha team.”

Rodimus took in some air with an awkward hiss, “Yeahhh, about that. Don’t you think you’d be better off, uh waiting to comfort (Y/N) in the med-bay or something? You’re um- You’re not exactly a good shot.”

Swerve bristled at the veiled insult. “THAT IS MY CONJUNX ENDURAE. I’LL BE GOING DOWN THERE EVEN IF I HAVE TO STEAL A POD-SHIP!”

“Okay, yep, cool. You’re there to rescue (Y/N), got it. Just… Maybe stay behind the rest of us, okay? Wait no. You go in front, I don’t want to be shot in the back or anything-” Rodimus stopped talking when he noticed more than one bot glaring at him for his lack of tact. “I mean, uh- You just go where you think is best, buddy. You got this.”

“Let’s just continue going over the plan,” Megatron interrupted, turning his attention back to the planetary holograph.

Thankfully, nobody questioned Swerve further, and he was free to remain undisturbed as the meeting went on.

Once again, you were behind bars but this time you were outside of the prison block. You were now in the centre of the Arena, which greatly resembled the Ancient Colosseums of Earth. You cradled your servo close to your body, the pain immense where your captors had crushed it after they had caught you trying to use the blow torch a second time; if there was any hope of returning to Swerve, it wouldn’t be the same way you escaped before.

With nothing else to do, you resumed listening to the recorded manual. Theoretically, you knew how to scan a vehicle and transform, so long as you found something to scan. Maybe you could convince Ouida to show you a vehicle in order to make the games more interesting. You doubted that plan would work, but if Ouida thought you were going to die in her games anyway, she might grant the request.

“In the event that you are in danger and need to record a message into your processor for an ally to discover-”

You focused on Perceptor’s instructions. Now seemed like the perfect time to record a message for Swerve, should he ever find your body. You tried to focus as your processor informed you that your voice and surroundings were being recorded.

“Swerve, I wish I could see you right now to tell you everything that’s on my mind, but if you’re watching this… Well, we know what’s happened.” You tried to keep your tone happy, but it proved to be impossible when thinking of the last time you had seen Swerve and how badly that had gone. You couldn’t stop from crying as you continued.

“Swerve, you are my whole world. I love you so much and I’m so sorry about how I acted. I was scared and confused, and… That’s no reason for the way I was. I’m terrified of what might happen to you if I die. Please, don’t think sadly on this. You have so much time left in the universe, and it’s a brighter place with you in it. No matter what happens, I need you to remember, I’m sticking with you. Never forget that you have my heart, always. I’m sorry that this is goodbye. I love you.”

Ending the feed, you hugged your knees to your chassis with your good hand, while you sat in silence and wept.

Swerve gripped the base of his chair, in the cruiser that the Alpha team had taken, hard enough to dent it. Upon reaching a close enough proximity to the planet’s surface, he had received a few dozen delayed private comms from you, the last of which was time-stamped only one hour prior. You were being kept in a cage, telling him how sorry you were and how much you loved him. If you were sticking with him, then he was going to stick right back to you.

Turbulence hit the ship, but Swerve’s determination didn’t waver. He knew it was just the first volley of attacks from the turrets, until Skids’ team would be able to disable them. Swerve remembered feeling like this thousands of times in the war. The feeling that you could be shot down at any moment on the way to your goal, but that you couldn’t think about death, lest it leech into your processor, freezing out all other thoughts. Swerve wouldn’t die. He couldn’t. Not while you were in danger. You were his mission and this was just another, smaller, war.

Swerve remembered his very first mission. His entire squadron had died, except for him. Being a mini-bot, he’d managed to hide without being discovered; he’d spent centuries hating himself for living as a coward instead of dying a hero with the rest of his squad. As it turned out, many bots had had similar experiences which haunted them. This time, he would not hide, his team would survive, they would rescue you, and Swerve would tell you every minute of every day that he loved you.

“SKIDS,” Rodimus yelled over the comms, “A LITTLE HELP WITH THE FRAGGING TURRETS.”

“Working on it,” Skids replied frantically. “They have one hell of an IT team there, Rodimus. The turrets are encrypted at least five times over.”

“Great. I’ll pass on the compliment when I meet them. Can you stop the turrets or not?”

There was a sharp silence on Skids end which was answer enough; the team would have to go in under fire.

“Okay,” Rodimus looked to his team. Ultra Magnus, Tailgate, Cyclonus, and Swerve were there, along with a few other volunteers that made their number twenty. “Plan B. We drive fast and furious, ploughing through their defences.”

The team were less enthusiastic at the thought of being shot, but none of them buckled under pressure; everyone was ready to go to your aid.

“Beta team, in position?” Rodimus asked, as they had planned to do before the Alpha Team dropped down onto the planet’s surface.

“Negative,” Megatron replied. His team comprised of Drift, Nautica, Nightbeat, and Brainstorm. It was decided that a smaller team would be better for infiltration. “The blueprints were wrong. We landed right in their armoury and are facing heavy fire.”

“HEY, NO, NOT COOL. WE WERE FACING HEAVY FIRE FIRST.” Rodimus pouted. “THAT’S OUR THING. GET YOUR OWN THING.”

“Don’t be a sparkling,” Megatron hissed. “Rendezvous here. We need backup.”

Swerve crushed another part of his chair. Meeting up with the beta team would lead them further away from you. They should face the turrets, consequences be damned. Swerve imagined reaching over to the control panel and forcing the team to drop. If he wasn’t afraid to have their energon on his servos, he’d do it. However, frustrating as it was, he left the planning up to the Co-Captains, itching for the moment that he would finally be useful. So far, everything in the plan was falling apart.

“Get ready to fight, crew,” Rodimus warned as the cruiser approached the Beta Teams location. Everyone stood up, heading to the back of the ship, “Dropping in three, two, one.”

The doors opened, leaving all the transformed vehicles to drive out on the ramp, jumping the gap onto the planet. There, the battle began. A handful of Cybertronians against a few hundred organics, none of whom seemed to be human; perhaps Lady Ouida was the only human among the organics that inhabited the planet.

Swerve raged with every shot he took. In hallways full to the brim of enemies, even he couldn’t miss. His blaster kept ringing off with compliments. Good job. Nice shootin’ Tex. You’re my hero.

However, as many shots as he got in, the enemies didn’t drop. It seemed that they were immune to most of the weapons, only stumbling slightly before they got back up to fight.

“This isn’t working,” Cyclonus growled through gritted teeth, him and Drift being the only ones to do any real damage with their swords, though they kept getting pushed back by the horde.

“Tell me something I don’t know,” Rodimus said sardonically. “Time for plan C.”

“We don’t have a plan C,” Ultra Magnus reported.

“Then improvise.”

From the corner of his optic, Swerve saw a flash of green and he spun around to see Lady Ouida herself. She was climbing over the rubble, apparently trying to reach the fast-firing ballista behind the invaders of her castle. Full of rage at the human who had dared to harm his Conjunx Endurae, Swerve rushed at her, screaming. He tackled her to the ground, grunting as she stabbed a plasma dagger into his side. He would worry about the pain later, when you were safe. For now, he didn’t care, as that was the only weapon she had and she couldn’t retrieve it from his side now that he had her arms firmly in his grasp.

Swerve had always prided himself on being gentle with you, his beloved human. However, with Ouida in his grip, he was all too aware of how easy it would be to crush every bone in her body with only the slightest bit of pressure.

“WHERE IS MY CONJUNX?” He spat at her.

“Dead.” Lady Ouida lied. “As you will be soon enough, robotic scum.”

Swerve didn’t bother to press her on her deception, knowing instinctively that she wouldn’t talk, no matter what he did. Instead, he carried her towards her army, making sure the creatures could see her.

“I HAVE YOUR LEADER,” He roared at them. “LET US PASS, OR I’LL CRUSH HER.”

The organics stopped shooting, eerily expressionless as they lowered their weapons. Ouida shot her captors a disgusted look, hating that they had bested her experimental mutants. They were made to follow orders and protect the castle, but they had also been designed to ensure that she wouldn’t be harmed; with her as a captive, they were useless.

Swerve made his way forward, but Rodimus grabbed his shoulder-plate, pulling him back.

“Hey, loving the energy buddy,” Rodimus complimented Swerve. “Great improv and all, but uh, the Arena is the other way.”

“Oh,” Swerve looked at the mutant army, who were watching Ouida like a dog watching its master. “In that case, don’t follow us, or I’ll crush her.”

“YEAH,” Rodimus fist-pumped the air. “LET’S GO RESCUE (Y/N).”

You didn’t know what to say as you were faced with the many faces of the Lost Light that you thought you’d never see again, but most importantly Swerve. For a moment, you were half-convinced that you were hallucinating again, but then he had pushed Lady Ouida into Drift’s arms and he was holding you.

He kissed your helm, pulling you into his chassis, checking over every inch of you for injuries. “(Y/N),” he murmured. “My (Y/N).”

“Swerve,” You cried his name. “Swerve. I was so scared I’d never see you-”

“Shh, it’s okay, I’m here now. I love you. Always,” He repeated your message to you, letting you alone know that he had received it.

“Not to interrupt this reunion,” Megatron said sombrely, “But enemy reinforcements could arrive at any moment, and we need to get you two to medical treatment immediately.”

For the first time, you noticed the gash in Swerve’s side, coated with freshly congealed energon; he had taken the dagger out prior to seeing you.

“She hurt you… She-”

It was your turn to scream at Ouida, “YOU HURT MY CONJUNX ENDURAE.”

You reached out to crush her with your good arm, but Drift dragged Ouida into safety, “Sorry (Y/N), but she’s our ticket out of here. If we kill her, we have no leverage.”

You glared at Ouida, “You’re lucky he values all life, you hateful witch.”

Ouida rolled her eyes, unperturbed by the raving antics of a non-organic.

“Come on, (Y/N),” Swerve ushered you ahead of the group. “It’s time for us to go home.”

Home. You thought of your hab-suite aboard the Lost Light where you had built your life with Swerve; you couldn’t wait to get back to it. Letting Swerve cradle you in his arms, you leaned on him and took your first steps back towards home.

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love-bean · 3 years

Text

Spectacular - Prologue

so hello! i decided i would upload this in parts since it is quite long lol this is gonna be a little prologue type thing to help you get to know my oc a little bit and get the ball rolling. so without further ado!

wk: 1760

-o-o-o-o-o-

Growing up, Anastasia never understood why she had to be prim and proper while all of her older brothers did not. It made her life particularly un-spectacular.

“Miss Mackenzie,” the governess sighed. “Please do not do this today.”

“I just want an answer!” the nine-year-old groaned. “Why can’t I learn to shoot and ride and fight the way they can?”

“Augustus does not shoot or fight,” the governess pointed out.

“Augustus is only one year my senior. Our other brothers did not learn to fight until they were nearing 12,” the girl grumbled.

Sighing, the elder woman sat down beside her pupil. “Anastasia, there are many things a boy must learn in order to become a man. But there are different things that a girl must learn in order to become a woman. Unfortunately, although your mother has passed and you have no older sisters, you still must learn these things, no matter how upsetting it is to you.”

The little girl frowned and crossed her arms. They were both silent for a few moments before the governess placed a gentle hand on her knee.

“How about after we finish our lessons today, I will summon Alexander and perhaps he will take you riding.”

It wasn’t until she met Eloise Bridgerton that she truly understood the pressure of a young woman in society.

“It’s unfair,” Anastasia, aged 13 years, complained as she kicked a stray rock from the path.

“I agree,” Eloise replied, walking arm-in-arm with her new friend.

“Respectfully, you do not understand,” Anastasia said. “You have your mother, and your older sister, Daphne. You are well-guided. And you do not have to be perfect! I am the only girl in my family, and the youngest, and-”

“Anastasia,” Eloise interrupted gently. “Do not work yourself up. While I am not in the exact same position, I will still have to be a perfect lady eventually. Daphne will be married someday, and the responsibility will fall onto me to help guide Francesca and Hyacinth.”

They walked silently for a few moments before Eloise snorted out a laugh.

“Besides, your first season won’t even be for seven more years. You have plenty of time to perfect the art of perfection.”

Seven years. Anastasia wasn’t supposed to debut in society until after she turned twenty. That all changed when her governess fell ill and passed away shortly before her seventeenth birthday.

It was a hard loss for the Mackenzies, but it was particularly difficult for the youngest member of the family. Mrs. Henrietta Hobbs was the only female figure Anastasia had ever known, having been less than one month old when her own mother passed.

But the loss of Mrs. Hobbs sped Anastasia’s life into motion.

Anastasia stood in the sitting room by the window, watching the rain drizzle over London. It looked as miserable outside as she felt, and while not usually content to sit still, she did not have the energy to do much else.

“Sister.”

A gentle voice broke her from her trance and she wiped a stray tear away before turning her head toward the door where her eldest brother stood.

“Yes, Alexander?” she replied.

“Father would like us all to meet in the study,” he said, offering his hand. “That means you too.”

She nodded and walked toward him, wrapping her arm around his and allowing him to lead her through their home. In the study, their father sat behind his large wooden desk while their other three brothers had gathered in front of him.

“Ah, my beginning and end,” Lord Mackenzie said as his remaining two children entered the study.

As they joined their siblings, he stood.

“As you all know, we have been mourning the recent loss of Mrs. Hobbs,” he said, glancing at his daughter. “As a result, Anastasia, you will make your debut in this upcoming season. I will chaperone you as well as your four brothers. Am I clear?”

And make her debut she did. Not only was she named the diamond of the first water that season, but she found a husband by her third ball.

Of course, she shared many dances with many different suitors, all wishing to claim the hand of the only Mackenzie daughter. Mostly, however, she socialized with the three eldest Bridgertons, who were the only ones in attendance apart from their mother and who had become her close friends over the years she had known Eloise.

Anastasia stood at the edge of the ballroom, attached to her eldest brother’s protective arm, when three familiar faces approached them.

“Hello, Mackenzies,” Anthony greeted.

“Hello, Bridgertons,” Alexander replied in a similar fashion.

“Miss Mackenzie,” Benedict said, bowing his head slightly. “You look beautiful this evening.”

“Just this evening?” Anastasia teased.

“I have always favored pink on you,” he replied with a lopsided smirk.

“Well, I am glad to have pleased you tonight and I will have to continue my efforts in doing so for the future,” she said dryly.

“She hates pink,” Augustus interrupted, flashing his younger sister a mischievous grin.

“You try having to wear nothing but the wretched color for your entire life,” she snapped quietly before straightening her posture and recovering from her unladylike outburst. “It is the color of weakness, of softness. It is the same color of dress every young lady wears to every ball; the same young ladies who fawn over my brothers, of all of you, I am sure.”

“In my opinion, softness is not equal to weakness,” Benedict quipped. “Tulips bear the same color, and yet they manage to survive the harshest of winters and longest of summers.”

“Only to be picked by a careless person and die within days,” she argued.

“Ever the optimist, Ana,” he said, tone warm and fond.

She rolled her eyes. “You have not called me that since I was but a child.”

“You are still but a child,” he said. “But over the years I have had the pleasure of knowing you, I have watched you blossom into a beautiful young woman, much like a tulip.”

She shook her head, chuckling.

“Please, Benedict,” Andrew groaned. “If you’re going to court my sister, fine. But at least ask her to dance first.”

In the end, it was one Lord George Weston who had the honor of marrying the youngest Mackenzie.

Lord Weston was nineteen years Anastasia’s senior, making him thirty-six at the time of their marriage. He was a kind and gentle man, expecting nothing but companionship from the girl.

In the long line of Westons, it was common for a man to die at a relatively young age. They often grew very tired very quickly, and were usually in a great deal of pain. Once infection set in, there would not be much time left.

George was no exception, and he knew that.

So, all he wanted was a companion to live out the rest of his days. He did not wish for heirs, for to produce an heir was to force upon them the same fate he would suffer. Half of his fortune would be inherited by a cousin on his mother’s side, one with heirs who would live until he was old and grey. The other half would remain with his wife.

And for which, he desired was a kind, honorable young lady whom he could spoil and make happy in his final days.

A young lady like Anastasia.

At first, he approached Lord Mackenzie with the proposal. He laid every detail out, specifying that he would seek neither a dowry nor heirs from his daughter in exchange for a few years of bliss before his time was up. Once the men were in agreement, it was explained to all of the Mackenzie children, who were under direct instruction to never speak of it to anyone else.

It was a hard secret to keep, but especially hard to keep from her dearest friend in the world.

“I cannot fathom actually being engaged at our age,” Eloise snorted.

“Eloise,” Lady Bridgerton sighed at her daughter’s noise. “Please at least try to be ladylike for once.”

“Please, Mama,” Eloise replied. “It is only my siblings and Anastasia.”

Her mother waved her hand and moved on.

“That is why I came to visit you today, El,” Anastasia said, wringing her hands. “I am engaged.”

Upon hearing the statement, Benedict began listening in on the conversation between his sister and his friend.

“Pardon?” Eloise deadpanned.

“I am engaged,” Anastasia repeated.

“To whom? When? Why?” Eloise fired.

“To Lord Weston, last night. And we are engaged because he will provide for me. He will take care of me for the rest of my days.”

“Surely you are not in love with him,” Eloise gasped.

“I am not,” Anastasia confirmed. “But I do believe I will grow fond of him.”

“Doomed to a life of fondness,” Eloise muttered. “Well, congratulations, my friend. I am happy for you if you believe you will be happy.”

“Happy about what?” Lady Bridgerton asked, only catching the end of the sentence.

“Anastasia is to be married,” Eloise said.

“Congratulations my dear!”

As he watched his family congratulate their close friend, Benedict felt his world turn upside down at the fact that the girl he loved was betrothed to another.

However, the few years Lord Weston was hoping to have turned into a few months, for he fell ill not six months after his marriage to Anastasia. And she was with him to the bitter end.

Anastasia sat in the same chair she had taken residence in for two entire weeks prior. She was at her husband’s bedside, keeping him occupied with books and art.

“Anastasia,” George croaked, interrupting the sonnet she was reading.

“Yes, my lord?” she replied, glancing up.

“I am dying,” he said. “My final days are coming, and I do not wish you to witness that.”

She placed a gentle hand on his. “I made a vow to you, and I intend to see that through.”

“I do not deserve your kindness,” he whispered.

“You have been nothing short of the perfect husband, George,” she said. “The months we have spent together, however few, have been the best of my life. I do not deserve your kindness, sir.”

“You deserve the world,” he insisted. “I do believe I have become quite fond of you.”

“And I you.”

He took his last breath three days later, his teary wife at his side. Upon his death, his cousin took over his estate and Anastasia returned to London to live with her family.

-o-o-o-o-o-

so there it is. a bit of backstory, a bit of introduction. very VERY roughly edited. i have much more coming but this just gets it going. let me know what you think if you have a spare moment! next part will either be coming tonight or tomorrow. much love x

#benedict bridgerton #benedict bridgerton fic #bridgerton #bridgerton netflix #jo writes #jo speaks #jo tries really hard

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pixie-circle-au · 4 years

Text

Chapter One: New Home, New Friends, and Lots of Boxes To Unpack.

Chapter One | Chapter Two | Chapter Three | Chapter Four (Coming Soon)

Content Warnings: Food [DM or send an ask for something to be tagged]

Words: 2037

Editors: Aqua (@duckswithbucks)

Taglist: @fandom-nerd-girl555 @justmeandmygayships

Notes: Here’s the first chapter! My goal is to upload once a week, but I’m not sure how that’ll go.

The young pixie stared up at the house, a bright smile on his face. His parents stood beside him, similar smiles on their faces. The family was glowing with excitement for their new life in Brookside— a new life free of the disapproval and fear that had chased them in Worshire.

“Patton, can you help your father with the boxes?” The feral pixie nodded, heading to the truck that carried the last of their possessions. The big furniture had been moved last week, so now it was just… everything else. The family was definitely going to be spending the day moving boxes. It wasn’t ideal, but they could explore the town once there were actually sheets on the beds.

By midday, all the essentials were done. Dinner was in the fridge, ready to be eaten. Patton and his father, Geoni, were sitting at the table, reviewing their packing lists, and crossing off boxes. Patton’s mother, Julia, was pacing around anxiously, checking her phone every few minutes.

“Mom, what’s bugging you now?”

“Oh! Dear,” she laid a hand on her son’s shoulder, “Patton, and Geo, dear, I’ve been talking with the family next door— they’re quite a lovely family—and I wanted to ask: would you be alright with them coming for dinner?”

Patton shrugged, “I don’t mind.”

“I see no problem with it,” said Geoni matter-of-factly, “It’s the fae one, yes?”

“Yes, dear.”

“Ah, then I’d love to meet them! Tell them we’ll make sure to have a lovely dinner prepared, I’ll make stew. They aren’t feral, are they?” Julia shook her head and began to type on her phone.

“Well, it’ll be nice to meet the neighbors. If you don’t mind, I have to deal with some personal items, call me if you need me.” Geoni nodded, rising from his chair to his full height.

“Come down in half an hour, will you? I’ll need some help with the stew.” Patton nodded before grabbing a box with his name and rushing upstairs.

Patton had already spent a lot of time in this room, deciding where everything would go. Still it seemed foreign. Already the dresser, bed, and a side table had been put in, but other than that, it was bland and empty. The walls had at least been painted a sky blue, the pixie’s favorite color.

He set to work putting up pictures of memories, posters of shows he watched, and decorating with nostalgic pieces of art and trophies he’d won as a child in various competitions. He managed to get through a good part of the box before his father called him down to help with the stew.

It was a pretty simple recipe, but it always got a ton of compliments. Geoni was an excellent chef, and was almost always in charge of cooking when there were guests. Patton didn’t share his father’s talents, but he could at least do things like chop onions and pass spices without messing up.

Pretty soon the table was ready with a steaming pot of stew in the middle, and just in time, as the doorbell rang.

“Patton, can you get that?” Said Geoni, who was putting ice in the glasses. The feral pixie nodded, rushing to the door. He opened it with a smile.

“Hello!” The family at the door was dressed in fine, dark clothing. Each with a yellow emblem of two snakes circling each other on their chest. There was a tall, serious man, a young-looking woman, who wore a warm smile, and a teenager with messy, shoulder length red hair. They all wore dark hats.

“Hello,” the man stepped forward, and Patton could see well trimmed red hair peek out from his hat, he extended a hand covered in a black glove to Patton, and the feral pixie took it.

“I’m Patton, Patton Talisman. It’s a pleasure to meet you, why don’t you come in?” The pixie stopped back, making way for the family to stroll in. Once they were all inside, Patton shut the door.

“I’m Ilani Sepentes, or Charity. This is my husband Hanson, or Disguise. And my son, Janus, or Deceit.” said the woman.

“Oh, ha, I’m Morality. I’m not quite used to using my fae name.”

“Ah yes, not every circle uses it quite that often.”

“Why don’t you come sit down, dinner’s already made.”

“Ah! Janus, be a dear and grab the pie from the car, I nearly forgot.”

The young fae nodded and rushed out to the car, coming back a few moments later as the parents were setting down to the table.

“Oh,” Julia took the pie, “How lovely, I’ll put it on the counter.”

“It was the least we could do to welcome you to our town. My son made it though, so thank him.”

“Ah, yes.” Julia stepped forward, “Janus, was it?”

“Yes.” He smiled, extending a gloved hand. Patton noticed that the son’s gloves were yellow, rather than the black of the mother and father.

“Thank you so much, why don’t you all take a seat.”

The meal started in awkward silence. The Talisman family was shy of the Sepentes [AN: it’s pronounced sep-ENT-ess], and didn’t really know how to start the conversation. Thankfully, Ilani spoke first.

“Me and my husband, if you haven’t heard already, are the leaders of the circle. If you didn’t live next door we’d probably be here anyway.”

Julia dabbed at her mouth with a napkin before speaking. “It’s lovely to meet you, then. I was considering asking about the leader anyway.” She paused, for a moment, apparently concentrating hard. “I probably should have figured that out, as you know, this is the Sepentes… pixie… circle.”

Ilani laughed. “Yes, our family has been running this circle for centuries now.”

“Say, do you host monthly meetings?” Asked Geoni, wiping the blood of his food from his hands.

“We host them the first and second Monday of the month at nine at night.”

“Well then, me and my son will have to show up!” Said Patton’s father with a smile.

“What, you’re wife’s not up to it?” Said Hanson snidely.

“Dear! Be respectful.” She sighed. “My husband was not raised in a welcoming circle so… he can be rude about things.”

Julia nodded. “Well, at least you aren’t going to ban my husband and son from attending pixie circle and basically threatening to kill me if Geoni doesn’t get a divorce and kill his son.”

“Oh god, did that happen?” Ilani’s mouth hung open.

“More or less. It’s why we moved, that and the manics.” She gestured to Patton, who gave an awkward wave.

Ilani nodded understandingly. Hanson huffed, and grudgingly said “My apologies, ma’am.”

The rest of the dinner went well, most with Ilani, Geoni, and Julia chatting happily, talking about Brookside and the Talisman’s experiences in Worshire. Patton made the occasional remark, but stayed mostly quiet, casting glances at Janus and his imposing father.

“What grade are you in?” Asked the son softly, turning towards Patton. The cat pixie looked up, and turned towards the other as well.

“I’m a freshman, I’m transferring into the high school mid year,” he paused, “I’m a little nervous to be honest.”

Janus smiled, “Nothing to be worried about. I’m a freshman too, and I have friends in freshman year. There’s Virgil--he’s a shadow elf-- and Remus, he’s human.”

“You're really friends with humans?”

“I’d figure you’d get it, you know, since your mom is one.”

“Ha, yeah, I guess. I’ve just always been told not to be friends with humans, in case they find you, you know.”

“That’s fair I guess. Human or not, do you want to meet them? It’d be nice to start off your life in a new town with some friends.”

“Yeah, I guess that's good.”

“Cool, you can hang out with us sometime before school starts maybe?”

“Sure.” Patton smiled. He was nervous, as he didn’t really have friends in his old town. The life of a fae with a human parent, I guess. After everyone had eaten, Patton was charged with cleaning up and bringing out the pie. The jovial chatter between the three adults continued, with Hanson even jumping in a bit.

“Is everyone done with dessert?” asked Julia.

Positive murmurs rose around the table.

“Alright. Patton, why don’t you talk with Janus and clean up? The adults want to talk in the living room.” The feral pixie nodded as the four adults headed into the sparse living room, which had yet to be decorated.

“So what do you do here in Brookside?” Said Patton, gathering the dishes. Janus stood, picking up the rest of the pie.

“Oh, you know. The woods are pretty fun to walk around in. There’s a couple of ice cream shops. Me and the boys go roller skating once a month.”

“‘You and the boys’?” Patton chuckled.

“Yeah, ha. I’m friends with Remus and Virgil, but those two also bring along Roman and sometimes Logan, although I think they just feel bad for Logan.”

Patton smiled. “What are Remus and Virgil like?”

“Well you’ll meet them,” Janus pulled some ceran wrap out of the cupboard and began wrapping up the pie, “But I guess I should warn you. Virgil is nice, but he’s really anxious and shy, it’ll take you a bit to get close to him. When you first meet him though, and he doesn’t say a single word and just mopes in the corner, well, he looks like he’s ready to shoot you dead. Heh, he prolly could. Remus is… the exact opposite. He’s got this gorgeous face, I mean like gorgeous. He looks all sweet and kind and… he is nothing like that, lord. He’s got a very… wild imagination.”

“How long have you all known each other?”

“Well me and Virgil have been friends for a few years, seeing as we’re both fae, but Remus we met freshman year.”

Patton began wiping down the table, “So, your parents run the circle. What’s that like?”

Janus paused, seemingly thinking. “It’s alright I guess. It does mean I have to go to every single god damn meeting.”

“Language!”

Janus smiled, “Wow, what vulgar language I just used, oh golly,” he snickered, “Sorry, I’ll try not to curse.”

Patton smiled satisfactorily.

“But yeah, it’s not much except for the professional stuff. And I mean, if my older sister doesn’t take over, I’ll have to run it. I’m gonna have some place in leadership either way, but at least if she takes over I won’t be full time. She’s a lot more suited anyway. And I mean it’s not like my parents are close to retirement any-- sorry for rambling, ha.”

“It’s alright,” Patton smiled. “Wanna go upstairs? I think we’re bugging the adults.”

“Sure.”

The two headed up the stairs into Patton’s room, still only partially decorated. Janus looked around, smiling at the decorations already up. “I’m almost done with this room, just have a bit more to do.” The feral pixie placed the box on his bed, and Janus took a seat.

“This…” Patton pulled out a poster, “Is my favorite band. They aren’t together anymore but, I still like them. You can find their music on the web though.” The poster had a painting of a wolf on it and said ‘Timber at Dawn’.

“Wow, that’s nice.”

“Yeah, I have CDs of three of their albums, and records of all of them. My record player broke though.” The feral pixie took the records and stashed them before preparing to hand the poster.

“I have a record player, you can come to my house sometime and we can listen to them.”

“Really?” Patton smiled excitedly. It’d been nearly a year since he’d been able to listen to those albums.

“Yeah.”

The two spent the next hour chatting while Patton decorated his room. They talked about music, and clothing, and a dozen other meaningless things. They barely noticed any time had passed before Hanson was calling Janus to come down to leave.

“I’ll walk you out, but uh, do you want my number.”

“I would have forgotten. Trade numbers?”

The two entered their numbers into the other’s phones before rushing down the stairs. The group exchanged goodbyes, and soon the house was quiet again. Patton slept well last night, excited for a new life in Brookside.

#yo seff original #ts deceit #deceit sanders #ts janus #janus sanders #ts patton #patton sanders #ts morality #morality sanders #patton #thomas sanders #sanders sides #ts sides #fanfiction

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unidentified-flying-sparrow · 4 years

Text

I still love Harry Potter - but not JKR

Warning: This gets wordy. I really just rambled and let my thoughts take me where they will. And these are only my personal rambles - they aren’t meant to be a deep political statement or super eloquent or anything. They’ll be messy and meandering and mainly for my own benefit. I just...needed to think. And remember. And feel. You have been warned.

JKR has been in the news a lot lately. And not in a good way. To put it bluntly, she’s basically revealed herself as a TERF and is rightly being called out. It hurts, because Harry Potter made a large impact on my life. But the author has shown herself to be flawed and I had put her on a pedestal for years of my life. I admired her “rags-to-riches” (sorta) story. Her success. Her talent with writing. I wanted to be her in some ways. She was living my life’s dream!

And now she is making hurtful remarks about a marginalized group of people who have done nothing except demand equality and recognition.

I first heard about the books through my mom. She was a substitute teacher at the time, and in the class she was covering, the teacher had just started reading The Sorceror’s Stone. Mom went out and got a copy, read it, and loaned it to me. She also griped about how no one knew how to pronounce the name “Hermione” - the kids she was reading to kept ‘correcting’ her with ‘Hermy-own-knee” as the pronunciation. It drove her nuts. I remember bragging to my friends when I figured out what the Mirror of Erised actually said. I was in junior high - eighth grade. I was reading a kids’ book that wasn’t hugely popular yet, and trying to lure people in. I remember seeing more and more people I knew picking up the books. In high school, when we had free days in band (aka the teacher was sick and the sub didn’t know music), my friends and I would talk Harry Potter. I was giddy when I got my own copies - hardback copies - of the first three books by saving my money and shopping the second-hand bookstores. It’s not that my parents wouldn’t have gotten them for me, but I wanted to buy them for myself. My original, paperback copy of Sorceror’s Stone was battered and tattered and well-loved. Mom kept loaning out our copies to people. Sometimes, they didn’t come back. In that, it was like when she would loan out copies of The Lord of The Rings when I was a kid (which is why there are probably 4 or 5 copies of that in my parents’ house today). She knew the books were special. I put up Harry Potter posters. I glommed onto Hermione as a favorite character - a bookish girl who could still stand up for herself and have great friends? It was everything I had wanted for myself when I was eleven and struggled hard to have. So I adored her. And I shipped Harry/Hermione. Still do, but now days, I prefer just having an OT3 of the Golden Trio and an OT3 of the Silver Trio (or Sub Trio or whatever name the fandom uses now). I sometimes had trouble sleeping and would pop the audiobook of Sorceror’s Stone into my cassette player on those nights. It helped me relax. When the first film came out, my parents and I were there to see it. I was amazed. I remember griping about minor tweaks, like Harry’s eyes (until I read about the contacts issues). Oh, what little I knew of how the books and films would splinter more. But still be fun. Goblet of Fire the book was released 4 days before my 15th birthday. I made the mistake of telling my parents I could hold off on reading my copy until then. After I saw my mom sobbing -for reasons she couldn’t tell me - at the end of the book...I never made that particular error again. When Order of the Phoenix came out, we went to the Barnes and Noble midnight release to get our pre-ordered copies. During the long wait, a guy wandered up and down selling Little Caesar's pizzas. Another guy had visited Wal-Mart, purchased every copy of the book they had, and was selling them for only a couple of bucks over what he’d paid to anyone in line who was desperate for an extra copy. My parents bought one and I spent the rest of the waiting period crouched under a parking lot light, reading, until my parents got the copies we’d actually come for. I lost sleep reading all of the books as they came out. I was always done within a few days, at most. I just couldn’t put them down. I got T-shirts. Bought dolls/pillows/bedding. Got myself a T-shirt, a poster, and Quidditch Through The Ages and Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them when I visited the UK in high school. I saw the latter films at midnight releases with my friends. Half-Blood Prince the book came out during my first summer as a camp counselor. Almost all of us - camper and staff alike - were reading it or talking about it. Spoilers were forbidden but there would still be hushed conversations during bedtime hours or “me-time” after lunch (rest period). Deathly Hallows - both book and film - came out after my mother passed. I got my copy of the book, quietly, at a Kroger at midnight.

Harry Potter got me heavily into fandom. I was there for The Draco Trilogy and Pawn to Queen. My Immortal and The Shoebox Project. Squickfics that made it onto GodAwfulFanfiction and its successor, Why God Why. LiveJournal communities. Fandom wank. And so much more. Reading updates on MuggleNet and The Leaky Cauldron and watching fanvids. Listening to music uploaded from Draco and the Malfoy and other fanbands. Roleplaying communities that were being hosted on Proboards message boards. Countless Sorting quizzes. I made sure to visit Universal Studios on my honeymoon with @lechevaliermalfet and want to go back one day, as only Hogsmeade existed when we went. I also remember how grumpy I was that @lechevaliermalfet had resisted my urging to read the books - he read them after they were recommended by an unlikely source. In hindsight, it makes sense. I was a solid fan. The person who recommended the books was not. I celebrated the release of Cursed Child with my family at a day-long celebration in Naperville, IL. I have a T-shirt to commemorate it, and a wand that I made with the help of my niece. Just this year, @lechevaliermalfet and I did a date night - dinner and the first Potter movie on the big screen.

I’m rambling, I know, but the point is, Harry Potter got me involved. I made online friends and honed writing skills by writing fanfiction. I learned to have a thicker skin because of some of the feedback I got. I made at least one fanvid (I’m reasonably certain it’s been lost to the ether and good riddance). Sure, I participated in other fandoms (especially Hardy Boys/Nancy Drew and Witch Hunter Robin). But this was a fandom I shared with more of my family and friends than any other. And I could even - and did - read it to kids I babysat. Now, I know Harry Potter isn’t perfect. Lord knows, Cursed Child reads like a bad fanfiction, and I have seen those ideas executed in ways that fired up my imagination and emotions more effectively. Repeatedly. Then there’s the issue of worldbuilding. The not-so-great aspects/implications of much of what has come out of Pottermore aside, Harry Potter’s wizarding world has always been a shaky society. Others have touched on this far more eloquently, so I’ll just say that it was interesting that we only had a few token “good” Slytherins - who were still shown to have ambition that overruled their better judgement at times.

I always saw the films as a different interpretation of the same story, so I wouldn’t go nuts over the stuff that was altered, so that stays. They have flaws of their own. Sometimes they exacerbate what is in the books - sometimes not.

I can’t speak to the more recent Fantastic Beasts stuff as I haven’t gotten involved. Maybe eventually. But I never realized that the poor representation in JKR’s world might reflect her worldview more wholly. I honestly figured it was a more innocent ignorance or reluctance to risk upsetting the market at the time. But the more she tweets and posts...the more obvious it is that no, she just really is that biased. I guess, at this point, I’m going to have to follow the Death of the Author route. I used to live for the engagement Rowling had with fans, and the tidbits she’d dole out. Now, I cringe every time I see one. For the books themselves, I think I’m going to have to take the Death of the Author approach from now on. Because JKR cannot take away the positive things Harry Potter gave me and other fans. I won’t let her. And I am grateful that there are Potter cast members stepping up to denounce her. I love Harry Potter. JKR can go jump in a lake.

#my thoughts #harry potter #jkr is a terf

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aislinceivun · 4 years

Note

Hi! I know that you’ve said that you won’t continue with the sequel planned for Wandering Bird, but I was wondering if I could inquire on what you might’ve written? It’s just, I really adore your fic; can’t get it out of my head actually (so I’m so sorry if I’m being insensitive!) You mentioned once that you were going to do a POV from Arthur Gwen and Morgana- does that mean they (Morgana and Gwen specifically) had an idea of Merlin’s fate? Could Arthur “see” Merlin during his adventures? Part 1

Part 2: (Again, I apologize for my questions-your story just has so many interesting plot points!!) How would Bonnie and Co interact/react to Arthur’s return? Why couldn’t Freya interact much with Merlin; Was it a lack of magic, interference or something else? Somewhat weird question: but did you have anything in mind for Merlin’s Vigil Night? (If he can get one poor dear). (Gushing continued in third ask I’m so sorry)

Part 3: I loved how you showed Arthur considering legal reforms before his death-and the Phoenix as the emblem? *Chef’s Kiss* Was the creation of the phoenix’s later on a reference to that? Random aside: I really adored how badass you made Merlin, without making him too edgy or dark, you know? Also I really loved the many prophecies/legends surrounding just Merlin as “Emrys”! I adore literally everything about Aithusa, and her final scene made me bawl (also your art is gorgeous!) You’re amazing!

------------------------------------

Don’t ever apologize for asking questions about fics! Even if they’re old fics the author doesn’t plan on returning to, these kind of asks can really make their day and I’m sure 98% of the time they’ll just be over the moon that someone still thinks so much about their work :D I am!!

I still get emotional thinking about Aithusa, so I’m super glad her storyline made you feel so deeply. And that yuo liked Merlin’s portrayal and the lore about him! And thea art! Ahh, just, thank you! 🥰

Unfortunately, I no longer have my original outlines and the roughly 15k I’ve written due to my old laptop crashing, and it’s been 7 years (oh my gosh how) so I no longer remember the details. Which is too bad - I have several abandoned fics in my mother tongue, and I always uploaded summaries of what was supposed to happen to provide some kind of closure to readers. I can’t do that properly with Wandering, but I’ll try my best!

Putting the rest under a cut. :)

Feathers was inteded to be a series of 7 fics: 3 long main stories and 4 shorter (8-15k) standalone side-stories. The graphics are pretty much the only thing I still have left x’D

You know this one, 75k of how Merlin spends those roughly 1500 years between the end of the show and Arthur’s rebirth. Then, the stuff that never got finished:

The Gwen POV side story, set during ch1 of Wandering. Focused on Gwen dealing with Arthur’s death, managing the kingdom and working on abolishing discrimination against magic users. Also getting together with Leon after a few years.

The Morgana POV one, at parts corresponding to ch1 and ch2 of Wandering. Honestly, I’m no longer sure about the details, but the early parts were supposed to explain and detail show canon, and then... I think I meant to bring her back in as a literal bird. With the life span of it, just keeping her consciousness, so she can watch what happens in the world. She probably watched over Aithusa, too, and Merlin, and IDK but the goal was to show her thoughts and eventually give her character justice and closure.

The Arthur POV one. He was kept in some kind of otherworldly, underwater palace-like place and could only interact with Freya, really, but he did get constant flashes of Merlin - especially where he was near Albion. This short was supposed to be very dream-like, as time works differenetly in that place. It’s kind of like when you’re half-asleep, y’know? So Arthur didn’t really live those 1500 years like Merlin did, but he followed his journey, in a way. When Freya “woke him up” at the end, they did have a conversation about it. He lost these memories when he was reborn. (But he still often dreams of water and a kind lady)

The next big one! Set in 2012, this would’ve started with Arthur & Merlin going to uni and “meeting each other” and ended with Arthur finally regaining his memories. Merlin kept away from him while Arthur was growing up, you see - aside from that one time when he learnt that by pure chance, Ray (who became a PE teacher) ended up being one of lil’ Chris/Arthur’s teachers. As old man Emrys, he got himself some history teaching shtick because he wanted to see how Arthur was doing, but he quickly realized that this is not going to work, what with him being in love with the man Arthur is going to become. xD So he left after a few months, and kept away from Arthur. (But kept pestering Ray with questions :D)

Anyway, when Arthur goes to uni (by this point, he exclusively goes by ‘Arthur’ btw, dropping Christopher) Merlin magics himself back into his eighteen year old form and gets enrolled in the same school. Agatha and Mike would have had prominent roles as basically Merlin’s sidekicks. Aggie is especially close with him, after him mentoring her about magic all her life.

Arthur has no memories either of his old life or about the years spent with Freya, so the dynamic at first is pretty much show S1. Most of the angst would have come from Arthur finally wanting to get together with Merlin but Merlin pulling away because there’s just too much Arthur doesn’t know; how is he supposed to be together with him when he’s hiding so much, lying so much? This Arthur is pure and free of the tragedies of the past, and maybe it’d be best if Merlin left him alone... But something must be happening - something the world needs Arthur for, if he slept through WWI and WWII but NOW fate decided to send him back...

Anyways, he would have gotten back his memories aroud the end of this instalment. Cue a lot of crying from Merlin’s part.

The last big one, a direct sequel to With Memories. A lot of recap and talking in the early parts, Merlin and Arthur reconciliating who they were in the past with who they are in the present and who they wanna be in the future.

There was a Big Bad of some kind of malicious magical origin (not necessarily a person, but an “end of the world” kind of thing/entity. It was 2012 after all. Little did we knew the real shit was coming 8 years later It was revealed that Arthur had magic himself, plenty of it - he couldn’t use it, at all, but he wielded a lot of pure magic, maybe related to how he was basically marinated in magic-juice for over fifteen centuries and how his soul was pushed back into the world xD There was a lot of magical and dragon-related lore to be revealed. The Phoenixes came back to play a part in resolving the Big Bad, too. But it’s all very hazy. What I do remember is that to fix the Big Bad, Merlin AND Arthur had to hold their Vigil Night, in a way - not dying, god now, but both of them hand to give all their combined magic back to earth. This resulted in the Big Bad no longer happening and Merlin losing his immortality =)

After figuring out their shit in the first half, they were pretty much together, btw. Learning each other in a new way. Arthur digged Merlin’s Phoenix emblem tattoo, that’s for sure. A lot of communication was needed, especially because it wasn’t easy for Arthur to understand Merlin’s grief (sometimes, Merlin looked so old despite the young form he wore; sometimes he felt ancient, and Arthur was a bit scared in his presence - not scared of Merlin, but scared of how to measure up to him, reach him, help him.) And Merlin had to understand that even with his old memories, Arthur wasn’t exactly that Arthur, the king - he had a life of his own in the present, a new identity, and it was unfair of Merlin to expect him to be the same. They no doubt talked a lot about Merlin’s lived experiences, his lost ones, Aithusa. (Merlin never stopped wearing the pendant made of Aithusa’s scale)

Happy end, of course :)

Well, that was a lot of vaaaague stuff, but hopefully gave you an idea? Bonnie wasn’t around too much, though I’m sure I’d have included some scenes with her. She probably didn’t met Arthur until Together Again. Aggie liked him fine but kept teasing him and she could be a bit harsh, what with her being so overprotective of Merlin. Mike and Arthur got along really well. Arthur was shocked when he was first fully introduced to the whole family and was met with his old PE teacher AND that brought up the fact Merlin attempted to teach him for a few months xDD

Buuuuut.... this was still just 6, eh?

Last instalment, another side oneshot, and a prequel to the whole series. Kilgharrah’s POV. Set a few generation’s before Uther’s rein, elaborating on some of the lore and backstories revealed in Together Again. (all of which I no longer remember, rip) I know we’d have met an ancestor of both Merlin and Arthur through Kilgharrah: Aurelius Ambrosius, who does some good deed to Kilgharrah, and the dragon blesses him - after this, the man takes the name Pendragon. And Coel, who was a dragon lord, husband to Ystradwal high priestess. Coel had a cheerful and kind personality, and he was the first human Kilgharrah came to like. They became friends. Coel was supposed to be Merlin’s grandfather, I think. Kilgharrah and his mate were expecting their first egg to hatch when Uther’s purge started, and that was pretty much the end of this short =(

------------

All I have left aside from these is some tidbits of dialogue from the single file on the sequels I have:

“Whoa, Merlin, slow down. I can’t follow you.”

“I’m different from you. Okay? I’m not... I wasn’t... I didn’t reincarnate. I’m not a reincarnation of the original Merlin. I am the original Merlin. Do you understand? I never... Look, I never died.”

“You are. The same Merlin." Merlin nods. "The same Merlin who mucked out my horses and saved me countless times and magicked his way into my life.”

“I’m afraid, sire.”

The title comes without a conscious thought, and when he realizes, his heart twists and cracks.

Arthur just stares at him.

“So? Who are you guys, then?”

“I wasn’t lying about them. They are family. No! Gods, no, not like that,” he adds quickly upon seeing Arthur’s widening eyes.

“He’s our magical fairy godfather,” Mike and Aggie say in perfect union, completely straight-faced.

“The only times I was really miserable were the very first few hundred years, and later the roughly three centuries that followed Aithusa’s death. For the rest of the time, I wasn’t completely alone, and that... helped. A lot. But... it was hard. I hated how everyone I cared for withered away and died before my eyes, so I tried to keep people away for a long time. I was lonely, but that kept me safe from heartbreak. At least, that’s what I’d thought.

“But then I met Bonnie, and as I watched her grow up and start a family - a family that welcomed me - I realised how foolish I was for attempting to condone myself to a solitary life and deny myself the warmth of others’ love.”

Arthur wipes a hand over his face. “Owning a magical heritage but no apparent talent to use it... Just. Great. I’m a fucking Quibble!”

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Phew!! What a trip down memory lane xD And I actually remembered more than I thought I would, so that’s nice. Thank you for enabling me to ramble and recall some stuff a really liked about this verse. I hope I was able to give you some closure! Cheers!♥

#anon #ask answer #/#//#///#merlin #merthur #fic related #Like a Forever Wandering Bird #omg I rambled so much #you know what I might link this post at the end of Wandering #just in case any other late newcomers like you would like to know about The Continuation That Never Was #long post #geez IDK why the cut isn't showing up if you check my blog directly #sorry those who're not seeing this on your dash #=/

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jemej3m · 5 years

Text

What Now? (p4)

getting there

Team dinners, whilst frivolous and daunting, did make a difference. A small difference, but a difference all the same. Neil never organised them: That was the parent’s job. But they always invited him, and he always felt inclined to go, even if it was just to help the parents understand the game and give them advice on injuries, or affording equipment.

This time, it was held at a park. Two fathers were grilling burgers, a group of mothers huddled around with champagne, and the rest sitting at a park bench nearby. The kids were running themselves to death, laughing and rolling around the grass. Neil watched Robin, hesitant but still enjoying herself, and made sure she didn’t get too anxious whilst out in the open. He’d ignored offers of beers in favour for some water, and kept himself propped against a nearby tree.

“Very social of you.” A new figure appeared by Neil’s side. He recognised Kevin’s windswept hair in the ruckus of children, though it was newly cut. Good. He’d been having trouble with his helmet. But where Kevin was, his father wasn’t far behind.

“Social functions aren’t my thing.” Neil offered.

“Neither.” Andrew said, remaining civil as he sipped his beer. “Do you ever get sick of it?”

“Of what?” He glanced at him. He was dressed casually, a sweater over a button-down, skinny jeans, boots. He always was well dressed, Neil acknowledge.

“Being looked down at. Being gossiped about. Dealing with prejudice. Young, single parenting. All of it.”

Neil shrugged. “It gets easier to ignore after a while. My coaching fees are much less than other local teams, I’m equitable, I don’t take shit. Parents who can’t wrap their heads around that can fuck off.”

“What comes after the neophyte team?” Andrew nodded towards the other children.

“I sort them into A League, B League or C League, depending on what they can handle.” Neil rose a single eyebrow. “Are you trying to be nice to me so that Kevin can get into the A team? It wont work. I don’t take bribery.”

“I don’t give a fuck where you put him, so long as it’s just. Besides, I know he’ll get into the A’s. He’s a stubborn little shit.” Andrew said. “Maybe I promised my son I’d get along with you, because he’s friends with your daughter now.”

Neil snorted. He was right about Kevin: The kid worked harder than any of them. “How decent of you.”

For a moment, they remained in comfortable silence, until Andrew asked: “What’s your sob story?”

“Mine, or Robin’s?” Neil bit his lip. “Because everyone already knows my sob story. Or did you forget that I’m a crime-lord’s son?”

Andrew was unimpressed.

Neil shrugged. “Kidnapper’s van crashed outside of my old place. Rescued Robin from within. Haven’t let her go since.” He took Andrew’s beer for a sip, which gained him an even more unimpressed glare. “Yours?”

“Not as tragic as yours.” Andrew stole his beer back. “My old exy coach’s heart gave out. He was too sick to look after him. Carted Kevin off to me, for some reason.”

“Good of you to take him in.” Neil offered.

“Good of you to take a foster kid out of the system.” Andrew returned.

They’d reached a comfortable level of appreciation. Neil didn’t realise how easy it was to just talk to him, until the evening was close to finishing and they’d spent the entire time chatting.

As Neil and Robin walked back to their car, Robin tugged on his hand. He looked down at her.

“You seem very happy.” She skipped along beside him. “Did you have too much adult juice? Should you be driving?”

“I didn’t have any, sweetheart.” Neil promised, mildly amused.

Was it that noticeable?

How odd.

“Wait, wait, wait, wait.” Allison narrowed her eyes. “Do you like him?”

They sat opposite each other at Sweeties, Jeremy, Laila and Robin crammed next to each other and playing a badly set-up chess with salt and pepper shakers they’d stolen from other tables.

“What?” Neil stammered, immediately flustered. “No!”

"First you’re yelling about him, cursing him, mouthing off about his clothes and his pretentious job and car and his nerdy son. Now you wont shut up about how he hangs around at practise, and you talk about everything and anything, and you’ve offered to take Kevin to games, and he’s offered to take Robin to school. Look at you! Moon eyes, pink cheeks. You’ve fallen head-over-heels for him!” Allison cackled, clapping loudly and drawing the attention from other tables.

Thank god that the kids always ignored them. Neil spluttered, shoving her hands away as she wiggled her fingers at him teasingly. “I do not.”

“Oh, it’s so romantic.” She cooed. “Two single fathers, too busy because of their jobs to find partners, connecting through their kids bullying each other! How dreamy.”

“Fuck off, Allison.” He muttered into his coffee. Then he slammed it onto the table. “No, no. I’ve never been attracted to guys, I’ve never been attracted to anyone, period. I’m too busy, Robin needs me, I - no!” He lowered his voice even further. “He’s probably, like, 35!”

“You’re in denial, boy.” She sung. “He’s only 25.”

“How the fuck do you know that?”

“Because I’ve researched the shit out of him?” Allison said, with the tone of duh? as she twirled hair around her finger. “You’ve both got tragic pasts, with young kids, obsessed with your careers; you’re the perfect age and height for each other - I’m floored you haven’t already got with the man yet, Neil. Honestly.”

“This conversation is over.” Neil demanded

Allison simply put her sunglasses on, despite being inside. “Whatever. You’ll thank me for enlightening you soon enough.”

Unknown Number: Your pestering friend has taken up all Renee’s time.

Neil frowned at his phone. Sorry, who is this?

Andrew.

N: ah. right. hello.

A: What’s the blond solicitor’s name? Annie?

N: allison. how do you know renee?

A: Kevin is friends with Bee and Abby.

N: for a moment there I thought you had managed a social life outside of your child. shame.

A: Fuck off.

A: Also, you can’t talk.

N: ik, ik

N: thank u for enlightening me about this. they met at the show-your-parent-around-school evening. i didn’t think anything would come of it and allison’s a sneaky lil bitch for hiding it from me.

A: Renee likewise.

A: Might as well take advantage of it, shouldn’t we?

N: hm?

A: Do you want to grab dinner sometime, yes or no.

N: sure. might catch them whilst they think they’re clever :D

A: If you make me regret this, you’re paying. I’ll get you at 7 o’clock, Friday evening.

N: i’ll be on my best behaviour

I KNOW THIS WAS SHORT BUT i promise i will make up for it

also yes i will try upload a more cohesive version of this for ao3. this is all just drafting (for when i get the time)

#andreil #single parent au #dad! andrew #dad!neil #kid!kevin #kid!robin #all for the game #andrew minyard #neil josten #the foxhole court #renison #jem writes

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tirnelkai-blog · 5 years

Text

Home is Where the Heart is Ch. 2

Summary: You're content with your life on Alfheim, living a peaceful existence in the elven forests as a warrior and diplomat for your people. But war has come to the realm and the only way to secure its survival is an alliance with Asgard that is secured by your marriage to Prince Loki. Neither are you are thrilled with the arrangement but can the two of you see past your pride and mutual dislike for each other to form an everlasting bond? Whether you do or don't, you and Loki are stuck with each other until death does you apart.

Chapter 2: Arrangements

Chapter Summary: Loki gets a surprise

Word Count: ~1300

Pairing: Loki/Reader

Warnings: None

Part 2 of my ongoing Loki/Reader series. Current chapter list can be found on AO3 as I work to get them uploaded on Tumblr.

Chapter: 1

Loki watched the elven guests with some degree of curiosity. Never had someone of Alfheim been welcomed in Asgard. Books had described the elves of Alfheim as hauntingly beautiful and he could see why they were described as such. They were tall and slender, graceful in their movements. Their faces were angular and the tips of their ears pointed. The coloration of their skin ranged from that of typical Asgardians to copper, bronze, and even a light blue.

He couldn’t see why his father agreed to meet with them to negotiate an alliance. The elves, dwarves, and others of Alfheim were rebels, choosing to fight for the right to rule themselves rather than fall in line and bend the knee to the crown as the other realms did. When Loki asked Odin why he never sent Asgard’s armies to reconquer Alfheim, his answer didn’t satisfy the question. “Conquest by peace is preferable to conquest by force.”

If it were up to him, he would have the representatives of every race come to Asgard to bend the knee and pledge their loyalty, whether they were willing or not. However, Odin chose to let the realm be. And now they’ve come crawling back.

Heimdall reported on the events unfolding in Alfheim. The forests were wilted and dying. The rivers were poisoned. All manner of wild beasts had become feral and diseased. All as a result of some orc lord who managed to unleash dark magic on the realm and was attempting to wage war on Alfheim’s people. He was amassing an army of orcs, goblins, and other manner of foul beasts, an army the elves and their allies weren’t sure they could defeat. Not without Asgard’s help. Loki was curious as to what they would offer in return.

However, much to Loki’s frustration, he was not permitted to attend the meeting between Odin, his advisors, and the elves. It was a matter of utmost importance and delicacy, and the young princes were not ready to attend. Were it a meeting of the kingdom’s financials or the status of this year’s crop yield, he would not argue. Those could be incredibly dull. But a discussion shrouded in secrecy between the king and representatives from Alfheim, that was much more interesting. Loki had contemplated using his magic to sneak in and observe the meeting, but his mother, who must have sensed his intentions, kept him occupied elsewhere during the day.

Now the time for their evening meal had arrived and Loki was eager to talk to his father about the day’s discussions.

“How was your day, Father?” Loki asked as the royal family sat for their meal.

“Long,” Odin huffed. “Those elves can talk for hours and yet say nothing.”

“Quit beating around the bush, dear.” Frigga teased. “Loki has been insatiably curious about the whole thing.”

Loki opened his mouth to protest, but his mother wasn’t wrong. “I wouldn’t say that. I am simply a bit interested given all the secrecy.”

“I’m also curious about the discussions,” Thor said as he took a swig from his goblet. “Were you discussing battle strategies for the war, Father? I have been wondering what it’s like to fight an orc. I have heard that they are quite large, capable of tearing an ordinary man in half. Big tusks too.”

Loki rolled his eyes at his brother. “I imagine it’s no different than fighting with a barbarian,” he paused for a moment. “But perhaps a bit more foul.”

Thor grunted his reply. “Smellier, maybe.”

“We haven’t yet begun talks on how to proceed with the war. First, we must bring the realms together. I have accepted Lord Haldir’s proposal of a marriage between his daughter and Loki.” The room fell silent as the two princes stared at their father in stunned silence.

Loki opened his mouth to speak, before shutting and opening it again. “Close your mouth, dear,” Frigga scorned. “It’s unbecoming. You look like a fish out of water.”

Thor chuckled beside his brother. “I think this is the first time I’ve ever seen you lost for words, Loki.”

The prince ignored his brother, disbelief still plain on his face. “You cannot be serious, Father.”

“Why wouldn’t I be serious? We agreed the best way to forge a permanent peace between our realms is through familial bonds that cannot be easily broken. Marriage is the best union.”

“But what do you hope to gain from Alfheim that Asgard couldn’t take by force?”

“If we forcibly march our armies into Alfheim, force them into subjugation, and take what we want it could cause paranoia and distrust in the other realms despite the fact that they are under our control. And besides, if the armies and people of Alfheim are decimated by the orcs there truly will be nothing to gain. Asgard once benefitted greatly with trade from Alfheim. I would like to see that return.”

Loki opened his mouth to protest again but stopped himself. He was still shocked but knew arguing with Odin was futile.

“Don’t look so glum!” Thor prodded his brother. “It might not be so bad! Aren’t you curious to know what your betrothed is like?”

Ignoring his brother still, Loki stared down at his plate, dejected. “Why did you choose me to marry this woman? Why not Thor?”

“I didn’t. Lord Haldir and the others did,” Odin replied.

The raven-haired prince tilted his head in confusion.

“The elves did not speak of this out loud, but I assume they didn’t want us or the other races of Alfheim to think they have ambitions of power. It’s a show of good faith that they are only interested in aiding their realm by bringing us together and not plotting to see one of their own become the queen of Asgard.”

“So that’s it then?” Loki hissed. “I’m just supposed to sit quietly and marry this elf while Odin the great king proclaims he’s finally brought the Nine Realms peacefully together?”

Odin’s face turned red. “I expect you to do your duty as Prince and obey your father without question!”

Loki clenched his hands in anger as Thor shifted uncomfortably in the seat beside him. He could feel tears of frustration welling in his eyes. Odin had almost always chosen Thor over Loki his entire life when it came to such matters. Why couldn’t he choose Thor now? Why did he always have to be jealous of his brother?

“Loki.” The prince looked up as his mother grasped his hand in hers. “I understand an arranged marriage isn’t ideal. But you will be doing a great service to the people of Alfheim, your future people.” Frigga gave Loki a reassuring smile. “Besides, it might not be as bad as you fear. From what Lord Haldir has told me, his daughter sounds like quite the interesting woman. She’s kind, an experienced diplomat, and an expert fighter. I do not think the two of you will be bored together. Once the two of you meet, you might find that you like her.”

Loki forced a smile. “Of course, Mother. Thank you.”

That night Loki stayed awake staring into the dark as though the solution to his problems would manifest itself there. Marriage was not something he had given any thought to before. He was barely into his first century, after all, and honestly, there weren’t many women in the palace he was interested in spending the rest of his life with. Besides, Loki always figured he had plenty of time to sort through feelings of love and marriage in the future. However, he was certain this was not a marriage he wanted.

Loki wondered about you, Haldir’s daughter. Was this something you wanted? A life spent as a princess wearing beautiful gowns and standing by his side? Or were you trying to fight your father’s wishes and already hated the idea of him?

Either way, he needed a solution to prevent this marriage from taking place. Could he plant seeds of distrust and forge a political betrayal? Perhaps stage an “accident” that would bring some of the delegates to call off the alliance? He needed to come up with something. He needed to find a way out.

#loki #loki odinson #loki laufeyson #loki/reader #loki x reader #loki x you #loki fanfiction #loki fic #ongoing #alfheim #asgard #tirnelkai

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trishhyoungg · 7 years

Text

What is Grief? And 5 Ways to Deal With Grief

Long time no see my Tumblr readers :) Since my last post I’m guessing many of you might we worried to see such a topic come up on my blog. Well fret no with most things that don’t get revealed on social media.. Life happened and with that comes the Circle of Life.

Post Dedication: Without getting into too much personal details, I wanted to dedicate this post to anyone who heart is in immense pain over a lost of a love one (whether direct relative or not) I believe with such conviction that God has a reason for every season & the pain you feel now. Albeit temporary but this season will shape you in ways you’ll soon discover.

On a personal note, hi my dear love of my life, I’m sorry for the lost you’ve had to experience. I know that my words alone cannot do much but I want you to know that what happened is no ones fault & that she is a better place. I’ll continue to hold your heart & hand - walk alongside you till you heal & find peace. Love you more than you know.

This might be a long read for some so do grab yourself a warm cup of tea, coffee or beverage of choice & enjoy [Reading Time: 5-10 minutes]

You don’t have to be linguist to know the core topic of this post would fall under the 1st definition & NOT the 2nd. Nothing complicated about the emotion of ‘Grief’ - ‘Intense sorrow’ which in most cases is due to a lost of beautiful soul.

It’s worth keeping in mind that everyone grieves differently. Just like how all personalities are different with no two the same - this treatment is similar for Grief. Some people will wear their emotions on their sleeve and others will experience their grief more internally, and some may not even cry (believe it out not). We should try & not judge how a person experiences their Grief, as each person will experience it differently.

1. Denial & Isolation

The first stage to learning about the terminal illness, loss, or death of a cherished loved one is to deny the reality of the situation.

“This isn’t happening, this can’t be happening,” people often think.

It is a normal reaction to rationalize overwhelming emotions. It is a defense mechanism that buffers the immediate shock of the loss. We block out the words and hide from the facts. This is a temporary response that carries us through the first wave of pain.

2. Anger

As the masking effects of denial and isolation begin to wear, reality and its pain re-emerge. We are not ready. The intense emotion is deflected from our vulnerable core, redirected and expressed instead as anger. The anger may be aimed at inanimate objects, complete strangers, friends or family. Anger may be directed at our dying or deceased loved one. Rationally, we know the person is not to be blamed. Emotionally, however, we may resent the person for causing us pain or for leaving us. We feel guilty for being angry, and this makes us more angry.

3. Bargaining

The normal reaction to feelings of helplessness and vulnerability is often a need to regain control–

If only we had sought medical attention sooner…

If only we got a second opinion from another doctor…

If only we had tried to be a better person toward them…

Secretly, we may make a deal with God or our higher power in an attempt to postpone the inevitable. This is a weaker line of defense to protect us from the painful reality.

4. Depression

Two types of depression are associated with mourning.

The first one is a reaction to practical implications relating to the loss. Sadness and regret predominate this type of depression. We worry about the costs and burial. We worry that, in our grief, we have spent less time with others that depend on us. This phase may be eased by simple clarification and reassurance. We may need a bit of helpful cooperation and a few kind words.

The second type of depression is more subtle and, in a sense, perhaps more private. It is our quiet preparation to separate and to bid our loved one farewell. Sometimes all we really need is a hug.

5. Acceptance

Reaching this stage of mourning is a gift not afforded to everyone. Death may be sudden and unexpected or we may never see beyond our anger or denial. It is not necessarily a mark of bravery to resist the inevitable and to deny ourselves the opportunity to make our peace. This phase is marked by withdrawal and calm. This is not a period of happiness and must be distinguished from depression.

Loved ones that are terminally ill or aging appear to go through a final period of withdrawal. This is by no means a suggestion that they are aware of their own impending death or such, only that physical decline may be sufficient to produce a similar response. Their behavior implies that it is natural to reach a stage at which social interaction is limited. The dignity and grace shown by our dying loved ones may well be their last gift to us.

Source: https://psychcentral.com/lib/the-5-stages-of-loss-and-grief/

At the end of the day, how you deal with Grief is a personal journey & should not be influenced by this post nor anyone else who imposes their views on you. However in knowing that there is no fix template to dealing with Grief, many a times we can get stuck in feel lost for a long time - weeks, months or even years.

Take these as thoughts you can ponder on as you re-navigate you way back to the starting point which seems to have be blurred.

*Worth noting that these are ways that I have help me in my time of losing a love one as well - as such is personal & individual not the law*

1. Release

“Those who know your name trust in you, for you, LORD, have never forsaken those who seek you.” - Psalm 9:10 (NIV)

When I think of 'Release’, I mediate on the idea that I have someone or something to upload my emotions to. Something to almost fully take away what was once burdening ones heart & to ease that burden. I see it in 2 phases when it comes to ‘Release’: (1) Choice - to make the deliberate choice to no longer bear the weight of the load on your own & to surrender it to a higher authority or power (2) Letting go - to organically let your heart rest & the burden eases.

A few tangible activities that can help one achieve ‘Release’:

i. Meditation Whether it be a early morning walk or quiet time in the morning, making time to be still & to regulate the voices clouding ones heart & mind proves to be highly beneficial in the process of Grief. Making that physical choice to do so will make all the difference.

ii. Counselling Most people see this in a form of a person, i.e. medical counselling, how I see it is in engaging the the thing that you resist doing in terms of expressing your emotions. This will look different for many people - for me, it looks like sharing a thing or two more about how I’m feeling to the people around me who love me or even taking time to pray & seek god. Figure out what you resist in terms of expressing your emotions & work on small steps in doing it.

iii. Sleep This is probably more so relevant for those of you who on a normal day already struggle with sleep (i.e. partial insomnia or medical insomnia). In your time of Grief, you will see this to be a painful & almost burdensome activity especially when all your emotions seem to cloud any form of physical rest. I personally find that a quick purchase of a form of aromatherapy (i.e. room spray, essential oils, aroma diffuser) is a good place to start to unwind. Taking practical steps to get you or your family members to bed is important - is reduces tension & allows you to get back to your normal routine quickly.

2. Talk ‘aka’ Communication

A brief mention of talking to love ones was discussed above but still I believe that this requires a category of its own especially so when internalizing pain - which ultimately is the biggest ‘Resistance Factor’ when moving thru the stages of Grief. Whether it be talking to a person, object, spirit or even engaging in any form of communication (i.e. online, offline, written, spoken, heard) it is important to remember that communication is key.

Some activities to consider:

i. Blogpost / Letter Writing / Instagram Post / Journalling Just as I’m typing through this entry, it brings back memories of the passing of my grandfather when I was 19. My heart still aches but I look back at the time that has passed & have seen how far I have come since then. I find that writing gives one a 360 degree vantage point of things. The ability to look to the past, present & future just by penning down your thoughts. It also helps to be able to ‘Release’ pent up emotions & leave it on ‘paper’.

ii. Painting / Drawing My twin sister brought meditative art to my attention when she curated ‘My Heart on Me’ - an avenue for anyone to be empowered through life. Through art, we will begin to unpack your experiences, thoughts, fears, hopes and dreams to be revealed more in yourself. Believing and knowing that the ups and downs of life, and for explanations beyond our comprehension, has made you you- perfect and wonderful. For more click here - https://www.facebook.com/myheartonme/

iii. Community Groups / Spiritual Huddles This is one that most Christians would be familiar with in terms of Life Groups, Cell Groups, Bible Study Groups, etc. However is not exclusive to the religion - church groups may appear to be exclusive in nature however do not be mislead many Christian groups are the direct opposite - constantly with their arms open to journey will anyone who may need it. Should spiritual groups not be your cup of team - Many secular organizations have community group that allow for public participation as well,

3. Prayer

Prayer in my journey of Grief has been the MOST pinnacle factor that enabled me to embark on my personal journey of healing. For some background, I’ve lived my life since birth as a 2nd generation Methodist christian which basically means that I was born into the faith with no prior knowledge of ‘Why’ which therefore just meant that I was a Methodist christian. As you’d expect, growing up with the faith was filled with countless ‘highs’ & ‘lows’. It was only when I was baptized at the age of 19 (2012) - after the death of my grand father (2011) which was when I woke up to how blessed my life had been & how much I had relied on my faith without even truly knowing how much Grace & Mercy has been bestowed on me. You see the death of my grandfather came alongside a series of events - I did up a fundraiser - Project Overturned Closet for cancer patients in 2012 which opened my eye to much which in turn healed my broken heart. I truly believe that all that stemmed from that singular ‘come hell or high water’ prayer that I said when my life seemed to be in a pit of endless despair. Personally, I cannot deny that tipping point in my life that broke the shackle of Grief & allowed me to heal.

4. Preserve Good Memories Only

This possibly might be one of the first few actions engaged in by many when Grieving - looking at old photos, videos, social media post when ‘they’ were once living. I find that this luxury is highly correlated to the relationship one has with the passed on individual. Estranged relationships or traumatic events can sometimes hinder one from seeing the Good in these memories. Albeit easier said than done, it helps to come to a stage when one is able to look back on memories that were once beautiful rather than painful, memories that were once victorious rather than defeated, memories of blessing rather than regrets. Some thoughts (of the deceased) kick start the process - ‘Remember only focus on the Good’:

i. What was the most accomplishing moment in his/her life? ii. Recall the a fond memory you shared with him/her? iii. What are the positive character traits of him/her? Iv: What are some of memories of him/her that you’ll treasure forever?

5. Say ‘No’ to Negativity

This point may almost seem silly to some people - ‘if I could so ‘No’ to negative thoughts, wouldn’t I have done it already? - Well my point of view comes from a more deliberate & physical method of saying ‘No’ to Negative Company & Comments that might surround you in this time of Grief. Ever had someone have tendencies to blame everything & everyone around them without vetting through their thoughts or actions? Ever had bad company ask you to engage in mindless, thoughtless or even illegal activities just to forget? Ever been peer pressured to ‘fuck it’ & not bother about your loves ones in Grief? Ever had someone around you make an insensitive remark & not feel apologetic about it? Those are a few scenarios of Negativity manifesting into life that proves to be more detrimental than it may appear to be. In moments like these, I believe that ‘Guarding ones Heart’ has never been made more important. It does not make you a bad person by saying ‘No’ or even being adamant about saying ‘No’ to these moments of Negativity. You are allowed to Grief & should be able to Grief in your own time; anyone who says otherwise is foolish & deluded.

Some way to say ‘No’ to Negativity:

i. I think that’s enough. What’s done it done, please don’t make the situation any worst than it should be. ii. I don’t think attending that party will help me with my pain. I won’t be going. iii. My family needs me now. I think I’ll be staying by them. iv. That not a nice thing you just said. Do hope that you’ll be respectful about what has happened.

And with that I’ve come to the end of the post. I just want to say that this read is in no way a blogpost telling you what you should do or must do. Like I’ve mentioned it’s just a way of locating the starting point when you seem at a lost & are unsure of how to move on in your process of Grief.

I hope that this has helped at least 1 person out there going through a difficult time in their life. Just remember that there is always someone who loves you & is waiting for you with open arms to heal your pain.

Well Yeap! That’s all from me! Let me know what you think!

Pop A Question in the ‘Ask-Me-Anything’ Tab Above <3

OR EVEN IF YOU NEED A LISTENING EAR TO UNLOAD YOUR PROBLEMS. DO DROP ME A COMMENT. YOU’RE NEVER ALONE!

Roman 12:2 Do not conform to the pattern of this world, but be transformed by the renewing of your mind. Then you will be able to test and approve what God’s will is–his good, pleasing and perfect will.

Remember beauty is about being comfortable in your own skin. No one has the power to make you feel less than you really are.

#grief and loss #grief #death #rip #losing a loved one #losing a friend #losing a parent #losing a grandparent #losing family

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serenasw1410 · 7 years

Text

Draco Malfoy and the dark side of the wizarding story

Note:

1. I DID NOT write this. I just translated it into English

2. DO NOT RE-UPLOAD without my permission

5 years, it is neither a short nor long time

5 years, it is the time I know about Harry Potter

The wizard boy, with the famous scar, had such unhappy childhood, admired by the whole wizarding world, everybody knows how reckless, brave, and mighty he is. Destined to be the Savior, with the support from “The greatest wizard in the history” Albus Dumbledore and two loyal friends, he accomplished the mission to kill Voldermort, opened a peaceful period that people have been waiting for.

Everything was in peace again

But was that true?

War, either justice or injustice, causes damages. Survivors, deads, no one dares to say who suffered more.

People talk about Fred’s death – the day the twin from “we” become “I”

People feel pity for Ted Lupin – the boy only know about his parents from other people’s praises

People admire Severus Snape – a brave Slytherin who spent his whole life for his love

People cheer when they see Voldermort falls down with his crazy ambition. Cheer. Celebrate. Pity. Regret. Reborn.

A new world is created. The world that Harry Potter – a boy who has just passed adulthood become the greatest person, has the happiest life with the one he loves and the one loves him. It’s a happy ending, isn’t it?

They forgot him.

In their eyes, he is just a-boy-who-nearly-became-a-Death-Eater. The one who helped in killing Albus Dumbledore. A bossy, arrogant person, and so lucky not to be in Azkaban. A spoiled kid.

Draco Lucius Malfoy.

This boy, in the end, has nothing.

He used to be the luckiest kid, wasn’t he?

Born in a noble family, surrounded by love, he didn’t have to do anything. He had best things. He woke up with people making his bed. He took a bath with people boiling hot water. He had meals with people cook for him. He received gifts on his birthday. He couldn’t say no to a life like that.

He used to be a good kid, wasn’t he?

He never disobeyed his father. He worshiped, admired him. He listened to all of his father’s arrangements, all of his father’s words, even nonsense things like “Malfoy has to be like this and like that”. He didn’t know what the heck Slytherin was. He wanted to get into it because “My father said Slytherin is the best”. He never allowed anyone to insult her mother “Don’t you dare insult my mother, Potter”. It just, his life completely changed when he met Harry Potter.

A child with a happy life since he was born, destined to be the only heir of the famous Malfoy family, met an abused child, destined to be the Savior of the world he is living.

He met Harry Potter sooner than any of his friends.

Clumsily started the conversation. Clumsily showing off. He didn’t know his “little prince” characteristic annoyed the other boy. He innocently talked about his joy of being well-treated, excitedly explained to Harry about Quidditch, or accidentally mocked Hadgrid. All of that was to get the other boy’s attention. He truly wanted to be friend with him.

At that time, he didn’t even know the boy was Harry Potter. There was a saying like this: “Draco Malfoy, 11 years old, noble and pure-blood, surrounded by flatterers, but only offered his hand to that person

Harry Potter, 11 years old, future Savior, offered his hand to many many people, but only rejected that hand”

Harry Potter. Rejected his hand twice. Didn’t look in his eyes twice. Had the thought of people wanting to be in Slytherin are dark wizards twice. And pushed his life to another direction once.

Since that day, he was not an innocent kid anymore.

He started to be aware of his noble pure-blood.

He started “ostentatiously walk around the castle like it was his Manor”.

He started to be bossy, arrogant, he didn’t afraid of anyone. He hated Harry Potter.

He mocked Ron Weasley’s poorness.

He insulted Hermione by calling her Mudblood.

He bullied other people. He was unruly. He did everything under the name of the Malfoy family.

In Hogwarts, there were people who are afraid of him, there were people who admire him, but mostly hate him.

He, Draco Malfoy, had everything, but a real friend.

He was a talented kid. He was obedient. He respected his parents. Although he always acted arrogantly, he knew fears.

He has never done any bad things like his family did.

He had never killed anyone. No matter how much he hated Harry, he never really tried to kill him. He protected Harry in the Manor, his wand saved Harry’s life in the last battle. He tried to find a way to let Deatheaters in the school, he disarmed Dumbledore. But when facing the idea of killing a person or being killed by Voldermort, he was hesitant. He has never determined in killing someone, even when his life was threatened.

He has never purposely used Unforgivable Curses on someone else. He even got cursed when Harry used Sectumsempra, but he never wanted to revenge.

It was not like he never forgot himself for other people. He tried to stop Crabble from killing Harry, tried to grab Goygle’s hand in the fiendfyre, although he considered him as his servant. He tried to do everything the Dark Lord told him to do so that he wouldn’t kill his parents.

He was also The Chosen One, but no one protected him and cared about him like they did to Harry.

He was just a boy. A growing up boy, terrified and need protection. Leaving the Manor, leaving his parents, he had absolutely nothing. Carrying the noble reputation, he tried to show, tried to attract people, try to send signals. He wanted to have friends. He wanted to be taken cared of.

But in the end, he was alone.

He might be bad but not evil.

He might be intrigued but not cunning.

He may be arrogant but not malevolent.

He was just simply bad, simply arrogant. When faced with death, he was afraid, he was weak, he wanted to rely on someone. But no one protected him. No one offered a hand and say “Don’t worry, everything will be ok”. He was so pitiful that he could only cry with the ghost in the bathroom, and then cursed by Sectumsempra.

“Do you understand? I have to do this. I have to kill you or he’ll kill me”.

The Dark Lord threatened him. He was only 16. And he had no choice. Facing Dumbledore, he didn’t smile, nor being arrogant. All he could do was being in pain and helplessly said that.

Nobody cared whether he wanted to do it. They only cared whether he did it.

They cried because of Dobby’s death.

They cried because of Lupin’s death. They cried because of Sirius’s death.

And I cried because of Draco’s staying. Alive. But alone.

No Crabble. No Goyle. No Pansy. Even his final love in this world, if it did exist, his family, disappeared.

That day, at King’s Cross, he stood there. Next to his beautiful pure-blood wife, who never showed up in his boyhood, and his son who resembled him.

It was all over. Everything was over. He was no longer a 11 years old Draco Malfoy. No longer enthusiastic or excited. No longer the greeting “Hi! Hogwarts too?” No longer the contemptuous attitude like he was the navel of the universe.

All he could do was “nodded curtly”, was “turned away again”, so that no one could figure it out what the grey-eyed boy was thinking.

That child could have had a beautiful smile, but in the end, no one was able to see his true smile.

The station was crowded, but he stood there, in a corner, faded like he has never existed.

“Harry Potter” ended with a happy ending.

But Draco Malfoy’s loneliness makes me unable to feel happy.

Has someone ever find out, behind him, is a proud but pitiful ego, a full but lonely life?

All was well. For Harry. For Ron. For Hermione. For the wizarding world.

All was well. But not for Draco.

#happybirthday #draco malfoy #harry potter #translated by Serena #don't reup

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