#and the paths are not the same but i can feel more bridges forming between them | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

thepaintedlady00 · 1 year

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Morpheus x Elemental Queen Reader, where after he is freed from Burgess Manor & while he is on the hunt for his tools, stumbles into the Reader's realm & finds himself surrounded by her elementals. He's brought before her & he meets the elusive & powerful immortal elemental queen. They become allies & she helps him along his journey. They soon become inseparable. Sometime after Dream learns his enemies have been defeated by her & her vast armies. They get married & have an family together.

I love getting to write two badass rulers falling in love and joining their kingdoms together! 😍😍😍 Sorry for the long wait, I hope you enjoy reading it!

Dream of the Endless wasn't expecting to have much trouble in retrieving his tools. After the century he spent in isolation and silent torment all he wanted was to repair his home, to regain the lost power he'd been denied for so long. So you can imagine his surprise when instead of being taken to Hell to retrieve his helm, he and Matthew arrived in a lush forest. All around them there was life, sunlight and warmth, tall fields of grass and raging rivers, animals watching them as they made their way down the neatly paved path. "I gotta say, this isn't what I thought Hell would look like."

"This is not Hell," Dream stated, weary eyes watching as the animals turned away from them, vanishing into the forest brush. "I do not know where we are, nor how we arrived here."

"Maybe you've lost your touch a bit," the raven offered. "Not to imply you're not capable or anything it's just, uh, been a while from my understanding."

Dream looked down at the bird as he hopped through a pile of leaves, the seasons shifting the further they walked along the path. He could sense eyes following them, sense power flowing through the forest and wrapping around him. For a moment he expected that power to crush him, it certainly could given his weakened state, but it didn't. Instead it swirled around him, feeling and sensing all that he was before it was gone and the forest grew eerily still.

The loud rumbling of the trees made Dream and Matthew stop walking as the trees around them grew closer, closing the gaps between them and forming a thick barrier. The bark on the trees twisted and peeled, revealing faces each different in every way but the same in one, their eyes watched Dream and their mouths moved in slow utterings that filled the air with words, a language he did not understand. The path behind them was gone, blocked by the faced trees.

"It appears we are to meet whatever force is responsible for bringing us here." Dream continued down the path, trying to ignore Matthews questions and the sound of the trees shifting behind them, forcing them to continue forward. Their voices, the words, were not possible to ignore and he found himself searching him mind trying to place what language it was they spoke, but nothing came. Either he did not know it or it was one he'd known once but forgotten as the eons passed.

A large tree, roots as tall as the forest around them, sat tall and proud on an island. Crystal clear waterfalls fell from the edges of the island and into a deep crevasse that surrounded the tree, but Dream could see some of its roots acted as bridges, carved and ornate with statues of wood and ice and rock standing guard. The path vanished, the trees forming a straight line behind them and leaving Dream with only two choices, cross the bridge or remain here and wither.

As they crossed Matthew examined the statues, commenting on how intimidating they looked, but Dream was more focused on the tree. Leaves of every color filled its thick branches, vines of silver and gold wrapped around the trunk, glowing with the bright sunlight hit them and casting marvelous kaleidoscope shapes around them. It was beautiful, this whole world that'd he'd just stumbled upon was something he'd never seen before, not even in dreams.

As they neared the tree an ornate door grew more noticeable, two statues of dull embers and molten lava waited for them. When Dream stopped at their feet, their eyes moved, looking down at him with glowing fire. One spoke in the same language as the trees did, it's voice no more than a low growl. When he did not answer, the other spoke, this time in words he understood. "Who are you?"

"I am Dream of the Endless. King of dreams and ruler of the nightmare realms." He said, head held high as the statues looked at one another. "I seek an audience with whatever sovereign you serve, for I fear I know not how I came to be here."

Both statues growled and looked at Matthew, pointing to the small bird. "Your messenger shall go with your message. You will remain, Endless."

Matthew grumbled. "Any ideas on what I should expect?"

"No." He knelt down to the raven and sighed. "Inform whoever rules this realm of the mistake that has happened and tell them we merely seek the exit."

"Got it."

"Matthew," Dream stopped the raven, fear curling in his chest along with memories of Jessamy. "If they should try to hurt you, leave without me. You will be able to find a way to navigate out of here."

The raven scoffed. "I'm not going to abandon you, boss. Just sit tight, I'll be back before you know it."

Matthew hopped up to the guards feet and looked up at them with a nervous cough. The gate behind them opened just enough for him to fit through and then closed tightly behind him. Dream waited, the heavy feeling in his chest not once relenting until the doors opened wider and Matthew came flying down a pair of ornate stairs. The guards stepped to the side and bowed to him. "It seems you have been deemed worthy of an audience, Endless one. Speak with caution."

The raven cawed as he grew closer. "That went better than I expected."

"What manner of being rules this realm?" he asked as they began walking up the stairs.

"I'm not really sure how to describe her..." Matthew chuckled. "She was surprised by the news, but she didn't seem too upset."

"A queen then?" Dream hummed softly. "Is she a fairie?"

"Again... I'm not too sure on what's what. I've only been around for like a day, remember?"

They walked in silence after that until the stairs brought them to a large room at the top of the tree. The ceiling was merely a canopy of leaves and hanging vines holding glowing crystal chandeliers. A long white rug spread across the floor in front of them all the way across the room where a throne stood tall, the right was fire and wood with green leaves and embers floating behind it while the right was stone and ice with decaying branches and jagged crystals growing out of it. Standing before the throne, raised up on the taller steps was a woman, the queen of this land he presumed.

Two large wings of green earth and blossoming flowers spread out from her back, long hair woven between them in an elegant braid. Her skin was covered in veins of green on her hands, but as the veins moved up her arms they shifted to brown and red and blue. She turned toward him, her eyes capturing his and stealing the breath from his lungs. She turned, the jewels that hung in her hair and on her long gown twinkled and clacked together softly. Dream was frozen, rooted in place as she looked at him. She was far more beautiful than he was expecting.

"You are Dream of the Endless." Her voice echoed around him, power washing over him like a powerful gust of wind. "Brother of Destiny and Death."

"You know my siblings?" He asked, voice weaker than he'd meant it to be.

She tilted her head. "Only a few of them. I stopped allowing your kind into my domain after your wretched sibling, Desire, came and abused my hospitality." Dream silently cursed his sibling as she took a powerful step toward him, head high and eyes devouring every inch of him. "Have you come to do the same, King of Dreams?"

"No." He bowed his head reverently. "In truth, I do not know how we came to be here. My sand was meant to take us to Hell."

"Hell," she mused. "A terrible place to visit willingly."

He chuckled, the sound bringing a softness to her face. "It is, but I have unresolved business with the Morningstar."

The queen looked thoughtful for a moment. "It is odd then, that you would end up here. My realm is well hidden, even to beings such as yourself."

"It is beautiful," Dream said, looking up at the leaves and gesturing to the view from the open spaces in the branches. "I've not seen anything like it before."

"High praise, coming from one that sees all the fantasies of men."

Matthew cleared his throat from his perch. "Think you can help us find our way out of here, uh, your majesty?"

The woman held her hand out, beckoning the raven to her. When Matthew landed on her arm she smiled brightly, eyes looking over the sleek feathers of his companion with wonder. "Such a beautiful raven you make. Was the transition difficult?"

"Transition?" Matthew repeated. "I, um, I'm still kinda new to all this."

"Oh, forgive me," she said. "I can help you. So long as you leave me with something."

There is was, Dream thought. "Name your price."

"A promise." She looked up at him. "That you not tell others of what you've seen here, nor of how to find this place."

Oh... Dream nodded his head. "I promise."

She moved toward the open skyline, the branches bending to her will as she gestured out toward another path of ice and snow. "The way out is through the mountains. It is a ways to walk, but if you wish it, I shall accompany you."

"It would honor me," he said, bowing deeper to her.

True to her word, the goddess walked beside him, shouldering his raven the majority of the walk. They made conversation with one another, sharing things between two rulers. Dream thought it would have been more difficult to talk to her, but it wasn't and he found himself wanting to talk to her forever. She was beautiful and kind and he'd not met any like her in all the years of his exitance. At the end of the path she kissed his cheek and pressed a hand to his chest. "I wish you luck on your journey and offer you this warning, on the path ahead you will be faced with choices, ones that will decide your fate. When the spirit returns to his place and the tremors cease, choose the kinder path."

She sounded like The Fates, riddles and unsaid words hanging between them as he took her hand in his, keeping it pressed to his chest. "Will I see you again?"

"If you so wish it." She said with a smile. "First you must choose wisely."

Dream went about his quest, recovering his lost tools and saving his crumbling realm. When faced with Lyta Hall, the goddess' words echoed in his mind and he found himself waiting. He allowed the two to say goodbye and instead of offering Lyta a vague warning, he offered her a promise. Her child would be watched over and kept safe from any that would do him harm. After dealing with The Corinthian and setting everything right with his subjects Dream found himself thinking of the goddess more often, wondering if she would visit him or if she'd forgotten about him entirely.

As if she'd heard his thoughts he entered the library one morning to find her standing there, speaking with Lucienne as his librarian studied her wings, fresh with new flowers and moss. They greeted one another fondly, and each day that passed after that they spent with one another. He would visit her realm and she would visit his. One day upon his arrival into her realm she was not there to greet him, none of her elemental statues or trees or even animal companions met him either.

A faint smell of smoke and blood tinged the air around him, and he found himself running down the path toward her palace. Lucifer and Desire were both set on ruining him, of bringing him and all he loved to the ground. It wouldn't be difficult for anyone to find her if they'd watched him closely enough, something that he should have been more careful of. There across the guarded bridge she stood, wielding a spear of the elements she commanded, the blood of the demons that had attacked her realm covering her dress and arms. She looked at him and smiled, strong and brave and absolutely beautiful. Dream knew then that he loved her and all he could think of from that moment on was how he could make her his queen.

As it turned out, that wasn't difficult. After the first attack, the goddess let loose a wave of her power and effectively smote his enemies. Any that lived, Desire most of all, got the message loud and clear. Dream was hers now, and anyone that tried to move against him would meet her in battle and they would lose. Peace, a thing he'd not truly been able to feel in so long, finally filled The Dreaming. In that peace her realm and his became one, as they did.

Now when Dream would enter his throne room, her throne sat beside his and his wife helped him create new dreams and nightmares to gift to the world of men. And so it would be for eternity.

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whovianwatchingstartrek · 5 months

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A Whovian Watches Star Trek for the First Time: Part 116 - Tilly in the Network

Star Trek: Discovery - Season 2 Episode 5 - Saints of Imperfection

This episode picks up exactly where engineering left off, with May pulling Sylvia Tilly into the Spore Network, and Michael is kinda doing this thing of burying herself into her work to distract from her sadness about the situation. It's very Vulcan of her, and I can't wait to see how it tears her up.

Meanwhile, Discovery has come across Spock's shuttle, however Spock isn't responding, and Discovery are left with no choice but to open fire before the shuttle can enter a nebula through which Discovery can't follow. They successfully immobilise the SHuttle, and bring it aboard, but to everyone's surprise, Spock isn't on Board: Georgiou is.

Now, last season I didn't like a lot of what they did with Georgiou after leaving her universe, they were a few interesting moments towards the end, but I didn't like that she her comeuppance so bringing her into the main universe in the end kinda felt unjustified. I'm still holding out for some villainous downfall this season, and here specifically, putting her right next to Pike who has built up as very much archetype of the paragon Starfleet Captain, when she is very much the prime example of what I imagine most Terran Captains are like (Granted, my sample size is very limited for them), should be a really interesting point of contrast.

Also the music that plays when she enters, is just perfect. I don't feel like I highlight soundtracks enough on these, but I love Evil Georgiou's theme.

Georgiou is still pretending to be our Universe's Georgiou, but Pike apparently has history with her. Georgiou's current mission for Section 31 is to hunt down Spock. Unfortunately Section 31 ties Pike's hands, and Georgiou is allowed to go free.

Last time Section 31 showed up, a few episodes ago, a couple of you pointed out to me they're they shadowy Group Enterprise too, I don't they were given a name back there, but if this is the same group, they seem be at least slightly more publicly known by know, both Michael and Pike recognise the Section 31 Badge that Georgiou has, whereas in Enterprise they seemed to exist entirely outside of Starfleet's knowledge minus a few people. I kinda wanna know what caused that shift.

The Engineering team manage to confirm that Tilly isn't and indeed is in the Spore Network. Sylvia is rightfully pissed at May for bringing her here, however she is willing to listen to her out. Unfortunately she wants her to kill some sort of creature that entered the Spore Network when Discovery started making it's jumps, and is currently destroying the world of the Network.

Meanwhile on Discovery, as Georgiou leaves, Section 31 drops off an official Liaison, in the form of Ash Tyler. Pike confronts Michael about how different Georgiou is acting from how he remembers her, and that conversation gets put off, Michael and Ash have a small catch up, but nothing really happens immediately and Ash leaves to report to the Bridge.

Paul's plan to rescue Tilly is to jump Discovery into the network, essentially use the ship as a gateway between the real world world and mushroom world. There are a few risks involved, it's been previously established that the mycelium in the network eat normal matter, so the crew would only have an hour to find and extract Sylvia, and there is a risk crew members could just end up like the crew of the Glen if they're in the wrong place when the jump happens.

Pike approves of the Plan, and he gives a really good No Man Left Behind speech, and everyone gets ready to go, and the side of the ship sinks into the network, and Paul and Michael get to searching. Sylvia and May board the Discovery too, although she takes a path to the Armoury to deal with the creature, although they quickly meet up, and Tilly explains the situation

I love that the Monster remains completely unseen until just now, when we find out he is Hugh Culbur, somehow corrupted by the something. Which obviously leaves Paul in a state of conflict. He thought he lost his partner, and he's been grieving really hard since midway through last season, and now he has a chance to save him, but May is still desperate to get Sylvia and by extension the others to kill him. Honestly I was expecting the monster somehow be related to the Tartigrade, so the idea that he's Hugh was a shock, and a twist that I love, even if it's undoing the most impactful death of Season 1.

Meanwhile on the bridge, things are going bad, the Mycelium are still eating away at the Hull, and the Bridge is Starting to fall into the Network, meaning the bridge crew have less space to work. Tyler however calls in some assistance from Section 31, with hidden communicator. A section 31 ship, apparently capable of disguising itself as an asteroid appears out of nowhere, and starts physically towing Discovery out of the Network's space

This little sequence with Section 31 is beautiful, it really showcases how much further ahead they are than everyone else tech-wise.

Meanwhile, Paul trying to convince Hugh that he's real is heartbreaking, he pulls through, and Tilly convinces May to stand down. They rush back to the cube and... Heartbreakingly Hugh is unable to crossover. This scene breaks my heart. Paul had so so much hope, and it just got ripped away from him, and AAAA! I am crying. Fortunately, Sylvia manages to think of a plan to use the Cocoon that dragged her in to create a new body for Hugh on the other side. With that, Paul completes the jump out of the Network, and everything is calm. The team spend time watching the cocoon, waiting, until May fufills her side of the promise, and Hugh is saved.

After this Mission, Pike and the Section 31 leader, Leland have a conversation with the Admiral. Who, one forces them to put their differences aside and work together, and two gives us new information about the Signals. The sites with the Signals have something called Tachyon Radiation, which I'm assuming is the Star Trek equivalent of Artron energy because Leland immediately connects it's presence to Time Travel, although Pike also says could indicate a number of other things, namely Cloaking Devices and Transporters. A Mystery to think about, I can think multiple ways all three of these could be involved with whatever the Red Angels are, Spock is still the best lead.

This episode was a fun conclusion to the May and Tilly Arc, I had fun with it, the rescue mission itself was great, and seeing Section 31 in Action. I still have enough to go on to narrow down my theory on the Red Angels are, and the end of this one kinda widened up the possibilities to it could be anything now. This episode was fun!

#whovian watching star trek #star trek #star trek Discovery #Star Trek DIS #Star Trek DISCO #ST DIS #ST DISCO #DIS #st: disco #DISCO #st: discovery #Discovery #ST: DIS

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cultofdixon · 2 years

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For Saving Me

Daryl Dixon • They/Them Pronouns • 4. Making their favorite meal when they are having a hard day. • ANGST/SFW • TW: Nightmares / Injuries / Recovery

It happened too quickly for his liking. Anybody’s liking. But accidents were bound to happen when repairing the bridge.

“YOU GOT IN THE FUCKIN’ WAY. PUSHING EVERYBODY AROUND AND LOOK WHAT THE FUCK YOU DID” Daryl snaps at the ex-savior who didn’t really give any fucks about what the archer said toward him and it came clear as day to him given no reaction. Next thing you know, Rick is pulling Daryl off the guy after throwing a few punches in as Alden pushes the ex-savior to avoid anymore crossfire.

“Let’s call it a day on the bridge. Just. Can we just take a minute” Carol rests her hand on Rick’s shoulder indicating it wasn’t just them that were tense for what happened.

“We’ll start back up tomorrow, but hell. You—“ Rick caught the ex-savior’s attention gesturing him to come over and suddenly take a hold of his collar. “You’re lucky they didn’t drown in the rapids. Or your head is gone” he shoves him off making it clear to not only him but others that hell, if Rick Grimes is mad, better watch yourself.

—-

It happened quickly. Of course it did. The entire bridge’s new frame wasn’t built. So it was noted to everyone working on it that when maneuvering around, not to knock into anyone. But right as Y/N was helping bring a plank over with another Alexandrian, the ex-savior swung in their line of sight knocking them off balance slipping between the cracks of the frame. Now Y/N was strong, but in that moment, the plank fell with them knocking them in the head on the way down causing their grip to falter and slip.

The group on the bridge scrambled to get situated being careful but also trying to get off and follow the current. One of the other saviors ran back to the small pop up camp they’ve got for the bridge and yelled for Siddiq and Carol while the others again, followed Y/N’s body struggling in the currents.

“What do you mean they fell through?!” Carol yells running along the river the best she could as others were on the other side following the same pace waiting for any signs.

“They wouldn’t survive if they suffered a head injury on the fall down. They—-“

“No Siddiq! We are not going that far!” Carol snaps continuing along the way with the medic following shortly behind.

“Hey!” One of the Kingdom residents yelled for the two’s attention dragging Y/N’s unconscious body out of the water from their side.

Siddiq watched as Carol didn’t hesitate running through the now calmer waters to get to their side. He followed her same path surprised they didn’t get caught by the underwater corpses of the undead.

“Their head is bleeding”

“I don’t think they’re breathing”

“Move out of the way” Siddiq says as calmly as he could before adjusting Y/N’s head position opening their mouth leaning over to hear anything. “Shit” he whispers to himself and started doing chest compressions.

This lasted about five minutes. With whispers happening in the small crowd and Carol glaring at every single one that mentioned them being dead. But the sudden gush of water to escape from them after a few more compressions, brought relief and a bit of fear to their close ones. Carol drops to her knees helping Siddiq get them on their side to get the water out as they continued to cough it out.

“S-Shit…h-hurts” Y/N groans out being carefully rolled back onto their back instantly gripping the achey feeling in their sides ignoring the head lac they received from now only the plank hitting them dead on, the bruise forming under their chin from hitting the framework on the way down, and the few cuts and bruises littering their body from thrashing through the water.

They didn’t like both Siddiq and Carol making sure nothing was a bite or a scratch on their aching body. Carol couldn’t help the tears that formed moving one of her closet friends around just to make sure of everything. She didn’t want to go to her best friend telling him that his partner was dying. Thankfully they weren’t. But the pain was unbearable.

___

It was going to be unbearable for a while.

Daryl kept by their side until they were awake enough to move their body back to Alexandria.

“Hey—-I got here as fast as I could. What happened?” Maggie frowns seeing Y/N’s state as she carefully brought Daryl into her embrace knowing he needed it given by the way he gripped onto her arms. He didn’t say anything at first because it will only rile him up again.

But once he got the words out, Maggie couldn’t help but feel the same anger he had.

“Accidents happen…”

“What?” She frowns seeing the tears that threatened their way down his cheeks.

“They keep fuckin’ saying accidents happen. Hell Y/N has said that to be. But this shit shouldn’t have happened. They…they are one of the few things keeping me goin’. I’ll kill every last one of them if shit happens again. Or hell one of them looks at my partner.” Daryl admits everything that was stuck in the back of his throat as he angrily wipes his tears away. “You brought the wagon?”

“Yeah so you can safely transport them. But you know—-“

“Yeah, yea ain’t comin’ into Alexandria. I know” He frowns lifting from his spot with Maggie following in suit to get the wagon ready.

The next morning came around and Y/N flinched in their bed, their bed, and realized they were moved while unconscious. They look around feeling the pain all over again turning to their end table finding a glass of water and a few pain killers for them when they woke. Thankfully they weren’t alone for long, their body was too tired to do anything but the second Daryl entered the room he set his crossbow down by the door maneuvering and positioning himself to their side helping them sit up.

“How’d you hear?” Y/N frowns knowing someone, most likely Carol, told him what happened.

Daryl immediately ignoring the question helping Y/N take the few pain killers and carefully drink the water to help it go down. “How are you feeling?”

“Horrible, but are you—“

“On a scale from one to ten, heard Siddiq ask that to yea when I got to the med tent back on the camp site. After Rick and Alden broke me up with the ex-savior” Daryl frowns dodging the eye contact for a moment knowing he wasn’t going to hold on much longer afraid he’ll break looking them in the eye. “Don’t lie either. Or I’ll get Carol” their laugh made him look up from his hands as it was a tired short lived laugh but as Y/N leans back into the pillows he moved for them they gently rest their hand on his face.

“8. But it’s coming down…have you been home this whole time?”

“Mhm. Ain’t leavin’ yea for a bit” Daryl brought his lips to the inside of their palm kissing them softly before taking said hand and kissing the top of it. “Scared them saviors…hopefully they get their shit together”

“Patience…” Y/N sighs squeezing his hand gently as he felt theirs shake when they did so. Bringing a whole new wave of worry to his face.

Frankly. His worry got the best of him most days. He didn’t leave and refused every ask of him to help with anything outside of Alexandria. Daryl simply didn’t leave Y/N’s side and the attention was wonderful given most days before their accident, they would only see Daryl after the end of a long day. But they know when some things were driving him nuts.

Y/N felt frozen. Floating. In darkness. They tried their best to move, but nothing was happening just the sound slowly getting louder and louder.

Rushing waters pushed them out of their frozen state

And a loud gasp escaped from their body, startling Daryl right beside them as he shot up from his spot in their bed looking down at their shocked expression gently resting his hand on their chest.

“Gotta breathe” He kept repeating, first with anxiety, next with a sense of calm. That finally got them to relax taking a few deep breaths.

“Sorry…I-I’m sorry”

“Nah. It’s fine.” He brought himself on his side watching them curl up into his side as he carefully drapes his arm around’em tugging them closer. “…wanna talk about it?”

“No…I…I don’t know” They frown latching onto him as Daryl wasn’t letting go anytime soon. He was relieved holding them got them to sleep through the night without another nightmare.

It was like that for a few nights, and Y/N finally got comfortable enough to sleep without waking every other other to something bothering them. But they felt the bed shift one night causing them to stir and turn to see Daryl rolling in his sleep.

They’re dead. We’re sorry Daryl. We did everything.

They drowned. The water took them.

They took them from you and you did nothing to stop it.

Daryl didn’t wake to Y/N shaking him but his body relaxed, feeling their arms and legs wrap around him from behind like a backpack on him.

The next morning, Daryl woke up to nothing. He shot up from the bed looking around to see if they were unconscious somewhere off the bed. Thinking they fell off or fell anywhere on the floor their room was on.

The rapid movement from the second floor didn’t go unnoticed as Y/N brought themselves to the end of the stairs waiting for Daryl’s frame to come into view so that he’d know they’re fine. They are fine, D. He sighs quickly heading toward them bringing his hands to rest on their hips about to ask the same question he’s been asking for a week now but was distracted.

“You cooking?”

“Yes?”

“I could’ve—-“

“No! Let me do this one thing. I swear you’re going to like it” Y/N shot him a smile before parting to check on what they were making.

Daryl enters the kitchen after them seeing the spread they have made, which confused him on how they got everything and that kick started a whole plethora of questions. That were soon answered by—-

“I checked the traps outside the walls for anything, Rosita helped me” Thank god “Lots of squirrels and I prepared the few I’m using how you like it. Then skinned the rest” I could’ve helped you with that… “Carol came by earlier with the box of produce and I took what I needed…she also dropped off food that she’s told me she’s been doing the past few days so I have a lot out because I thought I’d make her a few meals in return. Including some for those back at the camp—-“ I’m not letting— “Siddiq said I should still stay back here for a few more days so he’s gonna come over to take the sandwiches I’m making over to them” Oh. “But enough of my rambling. Sit down!” They state watching Daryl take a seat on the bar stools checking everything on the counter while they continued to make him his plate.

“Yer going stir crazy in here huh” Daryl frowns seeing all the work they’ve done when it was literally just a couple of sandwiches for the camp and preparing a couple “payback” meals for Carol dropping them off.

“Uh. Yeah…a bit. Not really I Uhm. I actually don’t really know how I feel about staying back here” Y/N shrugs turning off the stove and presenting Daryl with the meal they prepared for him.

Sure as hell didn’t look like a sandwich. Or squirrel for that matter. Honestly…it reminded him from back on the road. Before reaching Terminus.

________

Daryl couldn’t believe it. He couldn’t believe it when he spotted Y/N trying to find anybody from the prison. The second they locked eyes, he knew he was going to make sure he didn’t lose them like he lost Beth.

“Where the fuck did you head toward?” Y/N frowns putting their hatchet back onto their belt immediately pulling Daryl into their embrace.

“Ran with Beth…found a few places, found nobody, lost her—“

“Lost like—-“

“Nah. Some fucking idiots grabbed her. Or who knows…she just. Ain’t dead” Daryl parts resting his forehead against theirs taking in the moment.

“Guess we gotta hold onto that while we find the others…” Y/N reassures gripping onto his vest. “D. Fuck I wouldn’t have been okay if I didn’t find yea. C-Can we just. Take a minute”

“‘Course…but just tonight. We gotta find the others…”

It didn’t take long for the two to make a safety camp for themselves. Hell didn’t take long for Y/N to cook up Daryl something. That’s all they did while searching for their own, hunting what they could. Daryl watched them in silence seeing the strange meat they had in hand placing it on their small makeshift grill.

“What the fuck is that?”

“Pigeon? Took fucking forever to de-feather. That’s all I’ve been doing the past day or two. That and nursing my pride after almost falling into a ditch to get a bird” Y/N scoffs, cracking a small smile when Daryl gave off a laugh to such.

“Thought I taught yea better”

“You did. That’s why you’re getting this meal as a thank you”

Now Daryl scoffs. “For what?”

“For finding me. Saving me”

________

Daryl couldn’t help it. The man almost lost’em and here they are making him a meal that was always something they made for the same reason. Saving them. He wasn’t even the one that pulled them out of the water. Nothing. He was…

He was there. Just there for them. That’s why they did it.

“You…d-didn’t have to”

“You know I wanted to. Part of yea does…” Y/N brought themselves to stand beside him as Daryl wraps his arm around their shoulders pulling them in. “Just let me spoil yea with the good stuff…for saving me. Keeping me sane and keeping me company.”

“I hate yea, yknow”

“Yeah I know, sentimental ain’t your thing” Y/N laughs kissing the archer’s cheek as he didn’t waste another second to dig in.

“Ok, hate yea a lil less.”

“I love you a little more”

#did I lose the direction? yeah.#does that stop me from posting it anyway? no #cultofdixon #the walking dead #daryl dixon x reader #daryl dixon #daryl dixon fanfiction

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radical-desiderium · 2 years

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It's as impossible for a male person to know what it is to be a female person as it is for me to know what it is to be male or a dog to know what it is to be a cat. Me being born as a female child set me down a path and gave me an outlook that shaped me as a person. I am a product of both nature and nurture. You cannot change how or where or when or what you were born as, and all of that affects you. Everything I am is this body, other people see me but they won't know specifically what it's like to be me.

You are given a perspective in life based on your material reality and you will always be an outsider to the perspectives of others. You can sympathize, you can listen and feel like you can understand, you can find common ground, but ultimately you will never be able to view life through their lens.

My experience may not be the exact same as every other female human, but we share defining traits that give us common ground and we face oppression which takes different forms across different societies, but still stems from the same root of male people wanting to control our reproductive capabilities. It doesn't matter whether those reproductive capabilities are real or percieved, because from their outward perspectives they see our bodies and make generalizations about us as a class.

Feminism is about fighting for the rights of female people as a class, and since "female" and "male" are adjective terms which apply widely to millions of species, for the sake of simplicity and clarity, we generally call adult female people "women" and adult male people "men". Immature humans are called "girls" and "boys", respectively. My feelings or anyone else's on those words are trumped by the importance of succinct and broadly comprehensible language. We need words to describe the human sex classes. The reality of sex has shaped societal dynamics; any class or historical analysis that neglects that is missing a big part of the picture. The standards placed on women and the rights (or lack thereof) of women in various cultures throughout history did not just crop up randomly, the difference between our bodies was noted and exploited as justification. No one had to ask for identities or chromosomes. Your sex affects every cell in your body, it's a medical and scientific reality. Simplicity allows everyone, including those who may not speak the language or know the cultural associations, to more easily grasp what is being discussed.

Language allows us to better bridge the gap between our perspectives, but they will never truly meet. You can't see inside the minds of others. All you can ever do is form an idea in your mind of what an experience you'll never have is like, but that idea will never be the same as actually experiencing it. Postmodernism in general declares your inner ideas of alien experiences as truth because it values subjectivism and relativism over communication and understanding. That is quite literally antithetical to the idea of living in a society because if all experiences are subjective and relative and reality doesn't matter, coherency and solidarity are lost.

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corrodedseraphine · 2 years

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rewrite the stars | one shot

pairing: steve harrington x fem!reader

summary: "Do you believe in destiny?" you asked, looking up at the starry sky. "What?" A surprised Steve looked in your direction. He hadn't expected such a question. "My grandfather always believed that the fate of every person is written in the stars. Every moment is planned in advance and written right there." "That's interesting." he replied quietly reluctantly pulling his gaze away from you and directing it upward. Two friends are no longer able to hide that the feelings they feel for each other are much stronger. Will the stars be on their side? angst/fluff, friends to lovers

I got inspired while listening to the song "Rewrite The Stars" from The Greatest Showman.

the one shot is also avaliable on ao3

6 575 words

"Love is a bridge and not a wall, if we let it be." it's a quote from Sense8, but I really love it and decided to put it here.

steve harrington masterlist | general masterlist

"Do you believe in destiny?" you asked, looking up at the starry sky.

"What?" A surprised Steve looked in your direction. He hadn't expected such a question.

"My grandfather always believed that the fate of every person is written in the stars. Every moment is planned in advance and written right there."

"That's interesting." he replied quietly reluctantly pulling his gaze away from you and directing it upward.

"Ever since I can remember he always bought every possible book about the space. He probably knew every possible constellation by heart." you chuckled at the memory of an older man who spent hours sitting in front of his house watching the sky.

"Maybe he wanted to learn to read them? And maybe he wanted to read his fate from them."

"Maybe. I wonder if he was able to solve this riddle." You shrugged your shoulders.

You were lying with Steve in his garden on a blanket. A pleasant silence surrounded you, with the soft accompaniment of crickets. Despite the darkness, Steve was lying close enough to you that he could easily see your dreamy face gazing at the shining dots in the sky. A few strands of hair fell on your cheeks as the rest spread chaotically on the blanket. Under the excuse of brushing them away from your face, he gently ran his fingers over your skin. For a long time he had been catching every possible opportunity to touch you. You were beautiful. Steve knew it from the moment he first saw you outside Robin's house. You and Buckley had been neighbors and best friends for years, so when he began a friendship with her, she brought you into his life as a package. It didn't take you long to become friends. In addition, you all shared the trauma of fighting monsters from the Upside Down, and this brought you all closer together than anything else in the world. Despite the fact that you were from two different worlds a thread of understanding formed between you that was stronger than all other adversities. The closer he got to know you, the more he couldn't fight the feelings that grew stronger and stronger. However, not wanting to destroy your friendship, he kept repeating to himself that it was just an innocent crush with which it was better not to do anything more. He was firmly convinced that your relationship was platonic with a capital P just like with Robin. You thought exactly the same. You were lying like that next to each other, both unaware of your feelings, wondering if there was a path written in the stars that you could follow together.

Mondays at Family Video were the worst. The monotonous laying out of new movies on the shelves, accepting returns after weekend rentals, and abrasive customers were like a massive punch in the face after the carefree weekend you usually spent together. This one hurt especially. Every now and then Steve would think back to the evening under the stars. To how your quiet and calm voice rang through the garden talking about the stars and your grandfather, or how you laughed at his every joke, even the worst ones. You never let him feel pushed away. You were always the one who listened to his every word and didn't ignore him. He thought about how your eyes sparkled when looking at him and your smile that practically never disappeared. He didn't realize that he was the one causing it.

"Earth to Harrington! Where are you wandering?" Robin's voice brought him back to reality.

"Somewhere between the stars." he replied, smiling to himself. His answer made him feel warm in his heart thinking that you would understand and appreciate this innocent line.

"In that case, go back to our orbit because I have no intention of correcting the wrong tapes after you once again!" she rolled her eyes. Ignoring her words, he continued his daydreaming lazily walking between the shelves on which he put away the plastic boxes. Just as he was almost finishing his rounds, a bell sounded in the store, signaling the arrival of a customer. He reluctantly turned toward the door, but as soon as he saw you standing in it a broad smile appeared on his face. Immediately behind you he spotted Dustin and Will.

"How did we deserve your presence on this beautiful Monday morning?" asked Robin sarcastically, leaning over the counter as you, Steve and the boys approached her.

"I'm bringing gifts!" you replied lifting up a paper bag. "My mom and I were baking cookies and I thought you could use a little sweetening," you said.

"And we wanted to rent a movie." Dustin added, and he and the young Bayers headed for the science fiction section. After defeating Vecna, Joyce, along with her sons and El, returned to Hawkins. Together with Hopper, they moved into a large house on the outskirts of town.

"As for the sweetness I think for Harrington your presence here is enough, so all the cookies are for me!" Robin snatched the bag from your hand.

"Hey!" you exclaimed, ignoring her comment. You didn't dare to look at him however, if you did you would have noticed the blush coating his face. Every time Robin somehow commented that there could be something more between the two of you, you both ignored her letting her words hang between you. Embarrased, he quickly turned away from you by stepping behind the counter and began pretending to look for something on the computer.

"What are you doing for the weekend?" you asked breaking the silence.

"I don't have any plans, do you Steve?"

"Neither." he replied quickly still not taking his eyes off the screen.

"Robin do you remember my grandfather?" you continued.

"Grandpa Dave? Of course I do, he was the best old man in the world!"

"And you Steve remember the last time I told you about him?"

"Uh, sure." Finally, his gaze landed on you. Robin was right, the sight of you was sweet enough for him.

"I found his favorite book about the stars. What's more, I read in the newspaper that Saturday is supposed to be the night of shooting stars! I thought maybe we could meet and try to look for some constellations? Maybe we can read something interesting, and then just watch them fall thinking some silly wishes?" you suggested. Steve agreed without a second thought. Another night spent with you under the starry sky? He couldn't have dreamed up a more perfect evening. He was sure that at least half of his wishes would not be silly at all, because they would involve you.

"Can we come too?" interjected Dustin. "I'll bring my telescope!" he offered.

"We can do it at my place! El, Mom and Hopper are going somewhere for the weekend so, I'll be home alone with Jonathan and Argyle. Our new garden is so big that we'll all fit in without a problem!"

"Argyle is coming?" you asked.

"Yes, he will stay with us for two weeks," said Jonathan.

"Cool, I missed him." you said smiling, and Steve tried to hold back a gentle sting of jealousy.

"So what? Are you coming?" Will looked at the three of you with hope in his eyes. He knew perfectly well that you would not be able to refuse him.

"I'll definitely be there," you said, gently combing the boy's hair.

"Then so will we." Robin replied while biting into a cookie. "Damn y/n! tell your mom that if she goes on like this with her cooking I'll live in your kitchen, it's delicious!" She commented.

Only the muffled sounds of your voices reached Steve, because from that moment on his thoughts were focused only on what Saturday night would look like. There were endless scenarios running through his head, and in each of them the main role was played by you.

The week passed you by counting down to Saturday. The days stretched on mercilessly as if fate deliberately wanted to spite you by adding seconds to every minute. Steve, unable to wait, was already in the parking lot outside Robin's house way too early. Knocking on her door, he received no answer. Not knowing what to do with himself, he started looking around the neighborhood. Small single-family houses that looked the same stretched along the sidewalk. The neighborhood was one of the quiet ones, from time to time you could hear dogs barking or conversations of people tending their small gardens.

"Steve?" your voice made his heart beat faster. "I thought we still had some time."

"Oh, because we do, but I was bored at home so I thought I'd stop by early, but apparently Robin had something else to take care of." he laughed nervously.

"In that case, you're welcome to join us!" the woman standing next to you interjected. She was of medium height, and her face seemed very familiar to him. Only when he saw that she was dressed in a cleaning lady's apron did he recall her from the school corridors.

"Oh, s-sure." You replied quietly. Although you had been friends for a long time Steve had never been to your house. Compared to where he lived, your little house seemed quite poor. You never thought of him as a person who would judge people by their possessions nevertheless you were overcome with a strange anxiety at the thought that he would see how you lived. You were afraid that it would reach him how different your worlds were.

"It's a pleasure to finally meet you Steve." added the woman, letting you inside. "My daughter keeps talking about you, but I've never been able to talk her into bringing you here!" she laughed warmly.

"Mom!" you exclaimed feeling the fire flood your cheeks.

"What? I guess it's normal to want to meet the boy you spend every possible moment with?"

"Also nice to meet you Ms. y/l/n" he interrupted you shaking hands with the your mother.

"I-I'm going to go get ready." You replied quickly running off to your room. You couldn't bear his gaze on you a moment longer. What you didn't think through was that you had just left him completely alone with your mother, who was never one of the quietest.

"I wasn't expecting guests, so unfortunately I don't have any cake prepared, but I'd love to treat you with some homemade lemonade!" meanwhile, your mom and Steve sat down in the living room, which was connected to the kitchen.

"Thank you." he replied while grabbing a glass with a cold drink. The lemonade was delicious.

"I'm really glad I finally got to meet you. Except for Robin, she never really brings anyone home." the woman sighed, sitting down across from the boy at the table and she sent him a sad smile. Your mother worked very hard to provide you with everything you needed, however, on a cleaning lady's salary it was hard to support the two of you, so while you were still in high school you started working in the city library wanting to ease her burden a little.

"I like it here very much." he replied honestly.

"You are a very nice young man Steve. I'll be honest and admit that I remembered you a little differently from my school days." the woman giggled, making a wave of shame wash over him all over him at the memory of the years when he acted like a complete asshole. He didn't want anyone to remember that, especially your mother.

"Things have changed a bit since then." He replied while taking a sip of lemonade. "It's delicious!" he very much wanted to change the subject. At that moment, as if on cue, a knock sounded on the door in which Robin appeared a moment later.

"Good afternoon!" She walked up to your mother hugging her. "I saw Steve's car so I thought I'd find him here," she said.

"You've come to the right place, will you have some lemonade with us?"

"Of course!"

When you left the room you found all three of them at the kitchen table. They were so engrossed in conversation that they didn't even notice when you entered the room.

"We can go." you said nervously pressing the book to your chest. Robin and Steve sipped their lemonades and, thanking your mother, headed for the exit. In silence you got into the car and drove towards Will's house on the way taking Dustin and Mike with you.

When you arrived the orange tones of sunset were painted in the sky. Immediately after greeting everyone, you started spreading blankets on the ground around the place Jonathan had prepared for the bonfire. The garden was indeed huge and very well cared for. Joyce must have spent hours there to keep everything in such order. Steve and Argyle lit the bonfire and you, along with Robin and Dustin, prepared the snacks. When everything was ready you took your places on the blankets waiting for it to get dark enough for the stars to be visible. The warm light from the campfire fell on a book from which you read various interesting facts about space and the stars. You all watched the photos showing various constellations trying to find them above you.

None of you would have thought that simple looking at the sky could bring you so much joy. As you read about each of the constellations your voice was soft and quiet, as if enchanted. Steve had the impression that you were actually casting spells causing him to be unable to take his eyes off you. He thought he could sit like that in Hopper's garden listening to your words for the rest of his life. As one o'clock approached you closed the book announcing that you had read that the stars would begin to fall between one and two. Even though it was summer, nights in Hawkins were always accompanied by a chilly wind and even the warmth of the campfire couldn't combat that. Seeing you wrap your arms tightly around yourself to keep warm, Steve wordlessly went to the car trunk, where he had an extra sweatshirt. Returning he threw it gently over your shoulders and took a seat right next to you. You sent him a gentle smile in gratitude. The sweatshirt smelled like him. The smell of the familiar cologne spread through your nostrils making you feel like drowning in it. You had always associated this scent with safety.

"Look! Here we go!" shouted Dustin pointing his finger at the sky. Seeing the white streaks in the sky, all conversations quieted down. Everyone fell silent for a moment, believing that stars really do have the magical power to make dreams come true. Seeing the first falling star you took a deep breath and closed your eyes. Your wish was simple. Still intoxicated by his scent, you asked that one day the warmth you felt would be due to his arms instead of his sweatshirt. Steve, on the other hand, wondered how to convince all the stars of the world to guide your relationship to a whole new place. A place full of warmth and love.

After a long while, you returned to talking. Argyle, as usual, entertained you with his colorful stories about what kinds of things he happened to see recently in a not necessarily sober state. Meanwhile, Will and Mike left for the other end of the garden. Together with Robin and Steve, you watched as they fiercely discussed something when, after a while, their fingers began to awkwardly and slowly intertwine.

"I knew from the beginning that there was something between them." Robin said.

"Strange right?" Steve laughed.

"Will deserves to be happy, I hope Mike doesn't break his heart, or else I think I'll break his nose." you added.

"I hope they won't have too much trouble through all this. The residents of Hawkins can be...cruel."

"If they are like that, we will definitely have more noses to break." Steve said, imitating the motion of throwing a punch.

"I wish it were different..." sighed Robin laying her head on your shoulder.

"I know, Ro." you replied. "Love is a bridge, not a wall if we let it be..." At the sound of those words, Harrington's heart did a flip. There was hope in him that if he let his feelings come out they would build a bridge straight to your heart.

"I wish other people had the same opinion," she said.

"If you ever decide to tell others, remember that in your case, in addition to their noses, it will also break their ribs." You squeezed her hand. "Now if you'll excuse me, I have to go to the bathroom." a silence fell between them as they both led you away with their eyes.

"When are you finally going to do something about it Steve?" asked Robin interrupting it.

"What are you talking about?" he tried to pretend to be surprised.

"You can fool everyone around you, you can fool yourself, but you can't fool me." She rolled her eyes. "Take her somewhere, finally take a step forward before it's too late!" Too late? at the very thought that he could lose you made him weak.

"What if she says no?"

"Hell would sooner freeze over than she would say no to you. This girl without a second thought jumped into an icy lake after you in the middle of the night and went through a portal to another dimension, and you think she would refuse to go out on a date with you? Sometimes you're really stupid."

"Robin is right." At the sound of Dustin's voice, they both jumped up. "You should have done something about it a long time ago."

"Jesus, Henderson! Didn't anyone teach you not to overhear?" asked an annoyed Steve.

"Actually, you're talking loud enough that we can all hear it." laughed Jonathan.

"Yeah my dude." Argyle nodded. "When you're next to each other I see those little hearts, just like in the cartoons!"

"Then maybe it's time to cut down on smoking?"

"Never."

Steve shook his head. On the one hand, he felt a little embarrassed that everyone knew about his feelings, but he was glad they were cheering him on. Feeling a surge of courage when he saw you coming back to them he moved with a determined step so as to meet you halfway.

"Hi." You said standing in front of him.

"Hi." He smiled. "You look good in that sweatshirt."

"Oh, thank you." You giggled wrapping the cloth around you. Steve felt his heart melt.

"Listen, uh-" he began stammering. You only die once. He thought. "Maybe you'd like to have dinner with me on Friday? Just the two of us? Like... Like a date."

At first you had the impression that you had misheard. Later, though, you thought it was a dream. And if it was actually a dream, you never wanted to wake up again.

"I'd love to." you replied quietly.

"Really?" the wide smile that appeared on his face infected you causing you to do the same.

"Of course."

"I'll pick you up at six." he declared.

"Perfect. Now let's go back." You extended your hand toward him. When he caught it both of you felt a shiver of pleasure. Returning to the spot you still didn't let go. When in fact one of you had to let go to do something after a while your hands naturally found their way to meet, as if they were made for each other.

Around four o'clock in the morning you returned home. You stood on the sidewalk watching Steve's car move away and slowly disappear. Still unable to quite believe what had happened one last time before entering the house, you looked up at the sky.

"Thank you," you whispered, beginning to believe that the stars were on your side.

Another week in a row passed as he counted down the days, this time until Friday. At the very thought of your date a smile crept onto his lips but at the same time he felt his stomach knotting from nerves.

"I don't know where we should go, I was thinking about pizza, but maybe it should be something more elegant?" he anxiously said to Robin.

"I'm sure even if you took her to McDonald's for fries she'd be happy." she laughed.

"That's not funny," he rolled his eyes in exasperation. "I want this to be a special evening. I want her to feel special."

"I know, dingus! But looking at the two of us, you're definitely the one with more dating experience!"

"And you've known her forever! You definitely know what she likes and doesn't like!"

"I know she likes you, Steve. You don't need anything else." He was already about to repulse her, but they were interrupted by the sound of the bell. Turning around, he saw his parents. It was definitely a surprise. They showed up at home once every few months and always announced themselves beforehand. This time was different.

"What are you guys doing here?" he asked crossing his arms over his chest.

"Nice to see you too, son." The tall man replied, putting his hand on his shoulder. "Have you heard about the charity festival that will be held on Friday?"

"Something has come to my ears," he said.

"The organizers are our business partners. They're a very nice couple with a daughter your age!" His mother continued. "And you are the lucky one who will accompany her."

"I already have plans." Steve couldn't bear the facts that, once again, after months of being absent from his life, they suddenly showed up expecting him to do everything as they ordered. He didn't know if what he was feeling was sadness or anger. Or maybe a mixture of both?

"Then reschedule them for another time, we need you there, Steve." his father's voice was firm, definitely one that did not take no for an answer. "Whatever else you have planned can wait."

"Please honey, it's very important to us. "

He fought an internal battle with himself for a good few minutes. "Fine." he replied after a while. Now he definitely felt anger. Anger at himself that he was once again unable to oppose them.

When his parents left, he looked at Robin. Robin, who always had something to say now remained silent sending him a disappointed look. She didn't have to say anything. He was disappointed in himself. The next thing he did was to call you and cancel dinner accompanied by a huge pain in his heart. The sadness he heard in your voice made him feel like the old Steve again, who did nothing but hurting people he cared about. By the end of the day, he couldn't forgive himself for the decision he made. He wasn't sure he could ever forgive himself if it turned out that he had wasted his only chance.

For the rest of the week, he spent every spare moment outside of work with his parents and their friends. All four adults strenuously tried to play Cupids. Tessa was not the worst. She was a very pretty and nice girl. She chatted with him all day about her life; within three days, he could tell he knew everything about her. She was the captain of the volleyball team and loved sports, so every evening she would invite Steve to go jogging together, which of course he agreed to. He was aware that she liked him, but whenever she appeared too close to him he moved a safe distance away not wanting to give her false hope. The former King Steve would have asked her out long ago. But King Steve was gone. Now all that was left was Steve, whose heart belonged to a girl that the former King wouldn't even look at, and even if he enjoyed spending time actively, he missed with all his heart the you who could trip over your own feet while walking on a straight sidewalk.

The festival was held at the Hawkins High school field. Colorful decorations and stalls attracted attention right from the start. Assuring Steve that you understood why he canceled the date, you promised to meet him there to talk. What you didn't expect, was that he withheld one small detail from you. That detail was his companion. Did he really tell you to come here just to make it clear that he wasn't interested in you after all? That the whole thing was one big mistake? In the meantime, Robin explained to you that it was the daughter of his parents' friends who did not leave his side. Every now and then she touched his hand sending him sweet smiles and whispered something in his ear. All six looked very elegant. The expensive clothes stood out in a crowd of modestly dressed Hawkins residents. However, as organizers, they had to look like this.

"He looks nothing like Steve." commented Dustin rolling his eyes. "I don't understand why he hasn't come up to us a single time yet. It's like he's ashamed of us!"

"Relax, you know what his parents are like, clearly he has to stand with them all the time." Lucas stood up for Harrington.

"Which doesn't change the fact that he could at least come say hello! He's been ignoring us all week and avoiding meetings!"

"The girl next to him is very pretty." El's comment made the jealousy you felt inside you grow.

"But she's not his type at all." interjected Will. You wanted to believe those words. With all your might, you wanted to believe that the beautiful blonde who looked like she was from a magazine cover was not his type. But you didn't want to fool yourself. They were a perfect match. Both beautiful and rich. She would fit perfectly into the Harrington world full of luxuries. It was getting to you more and more that there would be no place for you there. Suddenly you felt very small. Worse.

"Y/n you okay?" asked Lucas.

"Yeah." You nodded. "Are we going to get cotton candy?" you forced yourself to smile.

"Good idea, if I have to look at them for a while longer I think I'm going to puke," Henderson commented, and with a quick step he moved ahead.

Together with Robin and the kids, you spent a couple of hours wandering between the booths and attractions. All the time you fought the urge to go home and spend the rest of the evening in bed to the accompaniment of the saddest songs you knew. You didn't want to fool yourself that seeing him with another girl didn't make an impact on you. Every time they appeared in your sight it hurt more.

"The fireworks show is about to start!" El shouted clapping her hands.

"The last time I saw fireworks we nearly died." Max laughed.

"Let's hope this time we'll do without a fight to the death." Robin replied.

"Look who mercifully decided to move towards us!" You all turned your gaze to Steve, who was walking in your direction with his new friend. He said something to her, and she nodded. Later she placed a light kiss on his lips and walked in the opposite direction. As soon as you saw their lips connect you immediately looked away feeling as if fate had just slapped you in the face. This was enough of a sign that everything you had hoped for from your relationship with Steve was just an unrealistic dream. Unfortunately, you didn't have time to notice how he pushed her away.

"What the fuck Steve?" said Dustin when he got close enough to you. He wanted Steve to see his anger. "What kind of a freak show is this? What happened to you?"

"Y/n can we talk?" he asked, ignoring the boy's words. After a moment's thought, you agreed and walked toward an empty bench so you could talk in private.

"You look pretty." he complimented you as you sat down grabbing your hand. His hands were warm. The warmth that always gave you comfort suddenly became something you couldn't stand.

"Y/n I am so sorry. Let me explain..." he began.

"You two are a good match." you interrupted him feeling tears coming to your eyes.

"What?" he was confused.

"You and that girl, you look very good with each other." At the sound of your words he shook his head negatively.

"You know I want you." he confessed suddenly squeezing your hand tighter. He knew that this was the moment when he had to reveal all the cards, without exception. "A-and I know you want me y/n." You wanted him and his love more than anything else in the world. But if he really wanted to be with you, he wouldn't have come here with another, would he? He wouldn't have let her kiss him.

"Apparently the stars have a different scenario for us." the words struggled to pass through your throat, and hot tears burned paths on your cheeks.

"What if we rewrite the stars?" he asked.

"No one can rewrite the stars, Steve. No matter how much we would like to. There will be no room in your life for someone like me."

"Who can stop me if I decide that you are my destiny?" He knew well that with this question he would bring back memories of that evening when you lay together in his garden. At that time there was still no hint that your paths would have to part.

"I am not the one you were meant to find, Steve." With each word, you felt more breaks appear on your heart.

"Then who?" his voice was weak. It felt as if all the air of life had gone out of him. He desperately wanted to take you in his arms now and beg you to give him a chance.

"Someone who will fit into your world. Someone like her. Someone your parents will look at with admiration, not disgust." you said pointing your head in their direction. They had been watching you from the very beginning. Their son looking like a fairy tale prince holding the hand of a girl from a much lower class. Just like Beauty and the Beast, but this time, you felt like the Beast. You could read displeasure from their faces. "After all, it was for her that you postponed our dinner tonight, wasn't it?"

"It's not what you think! It was my parents' idea and..."

"Steve, stop." interrupted him. "You know I want you, it's not a secret I try to hide." you took a deep breath. "But I can't have you...We are bound to break and my hands are tied." You didn't want to listen to his explanations. You didn't want to look at him, you didn't want to see the tears in his eyes, you didn't want to see the sadness on his face.

"Y/n please." he whispered pulling you closer to him. Your faces had never been so close together before. Just one tiny movement was enough to close the gap between them. However, they were still the same lips that another girl had just kissed. The girl he had chosen instead of you. You forced yourself to push away from him and without a word you walked away leaving him alone on the bench. At the same moment, a beautiful show began in the sky. The colorful lights were reflected in a few tears that ran down along his face. The sound of fireworks explosions drowned out the sounds of breaking hearts. Both of you looked up at the stars that night, wondering how you had come to the moment you were in. Did fate really have to be so cruel?

For the following weeks you avoided all contact with Steve. With the rest, not only with him. You let sadness consume you completely and spent your days at work and then locked in your room. You started compulsively reading books just to occupy your thoughts with something. Taking in the problems of fictional characters was definitely a better option than crying your eyes out every day. Because of this, you didn't know that that evening Steve contradicted his parents for the first time in his life. You didn't know that he had broken off all relations with that girl. You also didn't know that through all this he had become a walking wreck of a person. He begged Robin all days to help him get you back, and when she finally agreed, he smiled for the first time in a very long time. Involving the rest of the team, they decided that they will help you to be finally happy.

It was another boring day at work when young Byers unexpectedly came into the library.

"Hi Will! How can I help?"

"I actually want to ask you something." he replied. "I've signed up for a painting contest, and the theme is space, so I thought of that night when we were all watching the stars together, remember?" Of course you remembered. At that time you were convinced that it was one of the best nights of your life. One that would change everything for the better.

"Of course I do."

"Maybe you would like to help me? Can you bring that book again and we'd look for some inspiration?"

"You know very well that I won't say no to you." you laughed. You missed them, so you figured this would be the perfect opportunity to get back to your normal life.

"Great! My place at four? I can ask Jonathan to pick you up." the boy smiled broadly.

"No need, I'll come by bike, a little exercise won't hurt me."

"Then see you!"

"Bye!"

You didn't think the tour to Will's house would make you so fatigued. As soon as you leaned your bike against the fence you quickly moved towards the door, which Jonathan opened for you.

"Wooo, Demogorgon chased you on the way?"

"Funny." you said breathlessly. "Can I have some water?"

"Sure." he said, heading for the kitchen. "Will! y/n came!"

"Coming!" Will shouted from upstairs. After a moment, he came down the stairs carrying an easel, immediately followed by Mike holding a canvas, brushes and paints. "I thought it would be fun if we spread out in the garden," he said.

"Sounds like a good idea." you replied with a smile.

Helping the boys with their things, you moved to the garden and set everything up. Jonathan, meanwhile, laid out the chairs for you.

"Have you thought about anything yet?" you asked, sitting down next to Will and opening a book.

"Honestly, no. Mike says I should paint the moon, but it seems a little too boring." he giggled.

"Hey, it's not boring at all! The moon is cool!" Wheeler defended himself.

"Sorry." replied Will, squeezing his hand. "Why don't I paint some constellation? And something that tells its story?"

"Let's see what we have here." You started looking through the book. "This sounds quite interesting..." you said handing the book to Jonathan.

"According to legend, the phoenix was an impossibly beautiful mythical bird that supposedly lived for 500 years. At the end of his life, he built a nest out of cinnamon bark and incense, where he died, some say, in flames. From his ashes, a baby phoenix was born. Death and rebirth were seen as a symbol of the daily rising and setting of the sun. The group of stars forming the Phoenix was considered by various cultures to be a bird. The constellation was called the Griffin, the Eagle, the Young Ostrich and the Firebird," he read.

"What about this one?" asked Mike pointing his finger to the page next to it.

"A mythological winged steed, created from the blood of Medusa killed by Perseus, who rode it to the aid of the princess Andromeda. After his birth, he flew away to Mount Helicon, inhabited by the Muses. At the stroke of Pegasus' hoof, he ejaculated the source of inspiration of the poets Hippokrene at the foot of the Helikon mountains. After his death, Zeus placed him in the sky. On maps of the sky, the figure of Pegasus represents only half of the torso with head and wings."

"It's great!" exclaimed Will. "I can paint him in both forms, as a constellation and its true form..." ideas were coming out of his mouth at the speed of light.

Spending time with them really made you feel better, Will asked you questions and asked for advice every now and then, occupying your thoughts.

"Hey, y/n would you help me prepare some sandwiches in the kitchen?" asked Jonathan. You agreed and went to the kitchen together. You prepared the food in silence, but when you returned there was no sign of Will and Mike in the garden. The only person sitting in a chair was Steve. Still dressed in Family Video's corporate clothes, he sat resting his elbows on his knees. His eyes were closed, so he didn't see the moment you approached.

"Steve?" at the sound of your words, he rapidly stood on his feet and walked closer to you. He had a feeling that his heart had never been so heavy before. The nostalgia he had felt all these weeks was tearing him apart, and all he wanted to do at that moment was to hide you in his arms and never let go, but when he extended his hand toward you and you took a step back.

"Y/n I beg you, listen to me..." You didn't answer anything. You waited until he continued. He took a deep breath. "Don't keep saying our hands are tied, I don't care about the stars. All I care about is you."

"But that girl..."

"I don't care about her too, y/n. You are here..." he said taking your hand and pressed it to his chest. "You are here in my heart".

"But us, together, it feels impossible..." you felt tears gather in the corners of your eyes.

"Say that it's possible. It's up to you, and it's up to me." His voice hypnotized you. The warmth you saw in his eyes when he looked at you, you saw your Steve in front of you again. "If we're not written to each other in the stars, screw it, let's rewrite them, okay?"

"Okay." you said quietly. Maybe he was right? Maybe it was time to take matters into your own hands and fight for happiness? You were sure that every moment in the future spent by his side would be worth the risk. Hearing your answer, his hand went to your cheek. The gentle touch of his fingers made your whole body go through chills, and when he brought your lips together you couldn't hold back a smile. Feeling this, he himself began to smile. In that moment you felt that you were in the right place, at the right time, and more importantly with the right person.

Even though you were from two different worlds, you knew that from that moment on you would rewrite all of the stars and change the world to be yours.

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dear-detested · 2 years

Text

for him.

steven grant x gn!reader warning(s): mentions of sickness, mentions of cold medicine, mentions of donna (boooooooo)

during the midst of a london storm, you watch over a sick steven.

a/n: woo, first one! i wanted the first ones to be kinda short and sweet, just so i could get in the groove of things.

i actually really wanted to include marc into this but couldn’t really figure out how so i may write another one for him!

Dark thunder clouds rolled over the bustling streets of London, with quick flashes of light followed by thunderous claps. A stormy breeze breathed through the streets, blowing umbrellas out of hands and hats off of heads. Smaller puffs of breath make their way into your cramped and cluttered apartment, slightly lifting papers and turning pages of opened books on Egyptian mythology.

Balancing a tray of tea, crackers, and cold medicine in your left hand, you maneuver over small stacks of books and papers towards the open window. Carefully balancing the teetering tray, give yourself a pat on the back for not spilling anything this time. You’d hate to have ruined any more of Steven’s, already falling apart, books. He cherished them greatly, just as he cherishes you, despite having read them over a dozen times. He’d never purposefully make you feel guilty, but the sad look in your eye would tug at your heartstrings. You couldn’t handle ‘Sad Steven’ on top of ‘Sick Steven’.

And, oh, sick Steven. He currently hides, bundled under the covers of your shared bed. Racked by shivers, a terrible cough and a stuffy nose has left him bed-bound, going on three days. The stormy London weather does nothing to improve his health or your mood.

A frustration has worked itself into your bones. Between taking care of Steven, your own job and the constant calls from Steven’s dreadful manager, you haven’t caught a break, even before Steven’s terrible cold.

But he needs you right now. So, you’ll be there, here.

You gently place the tray next to him, before turning toward him to wake him. You pause, taking in the serenity of his sleeping form, despite his discomfort. Your pale comforter is bundled put to his pajama-covered shoulders as he lays on his side. Sweat has caused his soft, bouncy curls to stick to his forehead, a hint of red dusting along his cheeks and up the bridge of his nose.

Softly, you trail your fingers over his head, to push the curls away from his eyes. Your gaze follows the lines of his form, from the slight wrinkles on the sides of his eyes to the smile lines you’ve helped to increase, stopping at his chest for a moment to watch his slow and deep breaths, before your finger follows the same path.

It’s hard to stop touching him when he looks so peaceful, and the sounds of the muffled rain relax your muscles. Alas, a shift of his body and you’re pulling your hand away, too afraid to wake him.

The medicine can wait, you decide, and you’ll just make him another cup of tea. It’s not a problem.

You’d do anything for him.

*do not steal, translate or copy any of my works.

#moon knight #mr. knight #marc spector #Steven Grant #marcsteven #khonshu #sickness #fanfic #steven grant x reader #steven grant x gender neutral reader #steven grant x gn!reader #steven grant x you #steven x reader #fluff #sweet

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adarkrainbow · 1 year

Text

This topic of modern fairytales leads me to talk about a strange sub-genre that hasn’t been clearly identified or codified by any specialist, and that yet still exists and that people recognize.

“The fairytale fantasy”.

There is a lot of works that could fit the idea of a “brand new fairytale” or the “fairytale 0%” as I called them... but it is hard to pinpoint exactly when a modern fairytale begins and where a work of fantasy ends.

“The fairytale fantasy” is a strange fantasy subgenre that, to my knowledge, can be noted through two things. 1) It is a fantasy story aimed at children. Whenever someone intends to do a great fantasy story but for a younger audience, they will be drawn by fairytale structures and conventions. It is a phenomenon that cannot be escaped and is as old as fantasy itself - when J. R. R. Tolkien wrote his Lord of the Rings, for adults, he drew from ancient British and Celtic legends, from Norse mythology, Germanic legends and the Kalevala - and yet, when he wrote the Hobbit, in the same universe but for a younger audience, suddenly you see a much stronger influence of fairytales (from the funny dwarf party to the whole idea of fighting a dragon passing by the fooling of the talkative man-eating spiders...). 2) A fantasy becomes a “fairytale fantasy” whenever it starts delving into what I would call “fae lore” or “fairy folklore”. When a work of fantasy digs into the actual legends of the fair folk, and in topics ranging from changelings to Elfland, then it will either take a strong fairytale-tone or it will reuse fairy tale elements to build itself (thanks to fairytales being tied to the “fae lore” though not always identical).

These two points at the “bridges” that form a path between fantasy and fairytales, but also blurs the line... Where does an attempt at writing a unique unseen before fairytale begins, and where does the creation of a fantasy story inspired by fairy folklore ends? Should some work be classified as “fairytale films” or “fairytale books” ; or as “fantasy books”?

In terms of movies, two examples come to mind: “Labyrinth” and “The Last Unicorn”. Two works that clearly draw upon fairytales, use their tropes and conventions, and yet are fantasy movies, seen and classified as such.

Neil Gaiman is also a master of this genre - his novel Stardust being actually described as a “fairytale fantasy” (though officially it is a “romance in Faerie”), even though the movie that adapts it relies more on the “fantasy” aspect than the “fairytale” one. Neil Gaiman also wrote what is often considered a “modern dark fairytale” and yet also feels like children fantasy - the celebrated “Coraline”, which occupies a very odd and strange place alongside its mirror-book, “The Thief of Always” by Clive Barker.

And this odd, strange place is the place of “children fantasy”, which by nature as I said has a fairytale feeling and yet could easily not be considered a fairytale. Some people date back this phenomenon to Alice in Wonderland, its sequels and the other children book of Lewis Carroll - but I refute this idea. Simply because (as an Alice enthusiast I can tell you that) the Alice books were never intended to be fairytales, were not inspired by fairytales - and people simply assumed that it was a fairytale thanks to it being a popular “children book” and a monument of fantasy-like children literature. Because again - when a book involves some sort of marvel or supernatural, and is a popular children work, then people had the habit of classifying it among “fairytales” - especially if Disney DID adapt it alongside other traditional fairytales. In fact I do believe the reason why works such as Alice in Wonderland or Pinocchio are considered equal to the Grimm fairytales or the Perrault ones is because Disney considered them as such.

But Alice in Wonderland is not a fairytale - and is Pinocchio a fairytale? Not really. It does have fairytale motifs, but it is too complex, too long, too novel-like to be an actual fairytale. It is a novel for children, a children book, but not a fairytale equal to the ones of Perrault and Grimm. It would be closer to the long, complex fairytales of Andersen as exemplified by “The Snow Queen”, but even then it doesn’t fit because while being long and complex, The Snow Queen was still embracing a form of simplicity, shortness and “collection of stories” aspect typical of fairytales, where Pinocchio really is a full, complex novel with a novel-like storyline.

Same confusions, talks and discussions could arose for many other big names of early 20th century literature. Peter Pan for example - though I do not know much about this, so I’ll rather let people with more expertise talk about this subject.

And it doesn’t help that there are cases that blur the line EVEN MORE. I am thinking here of another subject I have some knowledge about: The Wizard of Oz. The original Wizard of Oz story, as designed, written and created by L. Frank Baum was intended to be a “modern, American fairytale” able to rival the old European ones. And it did! But... while it was conceived in spirit as a fairytale, it still had the structure and format of a novel. A children novel. Which made it feel much more like an example of “children fantasy book” rather than a fairy tale. And Oz delved fully into the “fantasy” concept when it had a sequel, then another sequel, and then became an entire franchise, losing the fairytale aspect. We can compare that to the Chronicles of Narnia - the original book similarly has a modern fairytale feel, though it is also clearly a children fantasy novel, and then delves fully into the fantasy by having sequels...

Overall, this is one complex, muddled, strange topic that can lead to endless debates but that proves one thing: classification systems are always artificial tools that can easily be broken by mere human inventivity. Works of fiction are always hard to place into boxes and genres are fluctuating things changing all the time...

#fairytale fantasy #fairytale 0%#coraline #the wizard of oz #the thief of always #labyrinth #the last unicorn #stardust #the chronicles of narnia #peter pan #pinocchio #alice in wonderland #the hobbit

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starlessea · 1 year

Text

Let's have a vote

Hey guys! As mentioned, here are some wips I found. Let me know which you'd like to see finished and I can start working on it.

1. Borrowed Time (one shot)

"In a world where every day is a race against death, Daryl meets someone who’s happy to stop running."

Daryl Dixon knew you weren’t going to last long.

He didn’t want to think that way, but he just couldn’t help it. From the moment he set eyes on you, cooped up in the Alexandria infirmary — and hooked to that heavy, metal gas tank which wheeled after you like a wobbly shopping trolley — he thought the world was cruel for even keeping you alive this long.

2. Step on the Gas - Chapter 4

Packing was difficult when you owned nothing but your name.

Whilst the others around you stuffed suitcases into their cars and fumbled with their tents as they tried to collapse them, you held onto a sole plastic bag containing two of Daryl’s shirts — and a glock tucked into your jeans.

You hoped there’d be supplies at the CDC, because there was only so long you could wear the same socks, or continue to share a sleeping bag with the man you hurt so deeply.

Though, since his earlier confession, a lot of weight had been lifted from your shoulders. No longer did they feel stiff with tension — save the formerly dislocated one — and no longer were you scared of treading on Dixon’s toes when your paths crossed. It didn’t feel as though bridges were being burned, rather built. For now at least.

Yet, a heavy atmosphere still hung over the camp. Occasional side-eye glances were thrown at Jim — some filled with pity, others with fear. Freshly dug graves still lingered on everyone’s fingertips, dirty with soil and regret. And Andrea’s face had yet to dry, her blue eyes always tepid and weepy.

But all anyone could do in the meantime was pack away their feelings along with their tents.

You’d exchanged some condolences with Jim earlier, but they sounded insincere since you hadn’t known the man for more than five minutes. He seemed like a good one though — and those were hard to come by. It was a shame.

“Got your head in those clouds again?” a voice asked, and you startled as a hand hovered over your back.

3. (NEW MINI SERIES) Don't Fear the Reaper - Prelude

It was half-light — that time of day that wasn’t really day, but too timid yet to become night. It was shadowy but those shadows were warm; it was humid but there was no rain. It was a time of in-betweens, perhaps, merely a prelude for what would pass. The sky bore hues of lilac and burnt orange, like a new bruise forming over pale flesh

And beneath that sky staggered fleshy figures covered in those very bruises. The undead.

They groaned under that sky, as rumbles of thunder awaiting a lightning strike, and bobbed along the concrete like a decaying sea. But they were unnatural. Strange marionette creatures kept alive by cruel fate, made to act even crueller. If this was nature taking her course, you thought, then she was perverted — and far too bored.

A pair of feet shuffled along a worn out road; one was missing a boot, toes bloody, with a calloused heel. The other leg bent awkwardly, like an abused wire hanger — misshapen but still recognisable. This figure had its head hung down, hair before its face in a knotted spider’s web, but low gurgles escaped it nevertheless. They sounded as water did when it came to a boil, but this time it bubbled a choked mix of saliva and blood.

Grotesque, you thought, and spat at the roadside.

No onlooker would think twice about pulling a weapon. No sane person would hesitate to put it out of its misery. Just like every other undead asshole creeping along this stretch of highway, it was nothing but a stubborn tumbleweed trying to catch a bite.

Except it wasn’t. This one was alive — just barely.

“F-fuck”, you spluttered, but every letter stuck to your tongue.

The pebbles beneath your feet were jagged, slicing at the tender skin, but that was merely a tickle when compared to the thorn in your side. The wound had bled through your shirt, trickled down your pants, and had even made your toes the colour of rust. But there was no point tending to it. A bite was a bite.

4. (UNTITLED WITCHER FANFIC) Chapter 1 - Beware the Blackwater

The Yaruga river lined the southern border of Brugge, seeping into the earth and making it swell into marshlands. The air tasted faintly of salt there, and of smoky saltwater bass being charred over open fires. And in Dillingen too, a fortress stood tall. It was erected close to that river, and it was a wonder how it hadn’t sunk to the depths of the blackwater estuary already. Though, they say that water is the best defence, and perhaps that was why Brugge hadn’t yet fallen. But that was only a matter of time.

When travellers speak of Brugge and Dillingen their stories often find their way to this stone fortress and all of the battles it had hosted. They tell tales of sieges and of arrows raining fire down upon it only to be quelled and snuffed by the damp marsh. Yet, there is scarcely ever a word spared about the village even further down than that - so far south that it had one foot in the blackwater and the other on a fishing pier.

Goddin was an angler village, so small and irrelevant that it couldn’t be traced back to any map. It’s residents were sailors and fishers, their wives and daughters. It was no more, no less. It was a peaceful village overlooked by war and strife - out of pity more than anything - and sustained itself on the very thing keeping it from the mainland, the blackwaters and the fish that lurked there. Rarely was there ever so much as a tavern brawl to rock the boat (since there was only one, and its barmaid was sterner than the most fierce storm) and never had Goddin become a place of interest before now. Yet, on this day, amid the warmest time of the year where the flowers bloomed and the salty air tasted a little sweeter, a witcher stepped foot onto Goddin’s piers.

Geralt hadn’t been paid a lot for this job - less coin than he’d care to admit, really. But a fisherman had travelled all the way to Northern Brugge just to hand him that satchel of gold, scraped together by villagers living in fear. He could smell it. So, after the week’s journey, give or take a few days, Geralt of Rivia arrived at the blackwater shores of Goddin, at what seemed like the edge of the earth - at world’s end.

“Ain’t got no inns ‘ere,” sniffed the angler, wiping his nose on the ratty fabric of his sleeve. “But me an’ the wife will host the both of ya’s.”

Geralt grunted, having almost forgotten the presence beside him.

“Well isn’t that kind,” quipped Jaskier, jabbing the witcher with his boney elbow. “Right, Geralt?” he prompted. But the other man remained silent.

The witcher wasn’t sure how he’d happened upon the bard yet again - like a leeching parasite he just couldn’t bring himself to cut the head off. Perhaps he liked his songs, he thought, but shook his head immediately after. That couldn’t be it.

The angler, growing nervous from the bounty hunter’s demeanour, let out a strained laugh. “Free ‘a charge, of course,” he continued, and Geralt’s ears pricked up. “Least we can do.”

...

There are more, but I'll keep it to this for now. Hope you enjoyed the snippets. Let me know which one you want to see more of.

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starreadssstuff · 11 months

Text

A web of love - Miguel O’hara

warnings- I think we can all say for certain we know this it pure fluff.

Authors note- I love Miguel so much I have been on Spiderman TikTok for so long so it's really not a surprise I've written a fic of him.Im also not sure if I got his personality right but I really hope you enjoy this! love, star ♥️

The crisp autumn air brushed against your cheeks as you walked through the bustling streets of New York City. The leaves were turning vibrant shades of red and gold, adding warmth to the city's concrete jungle. As you strolled along, you couldn't help but smile at the thought of seeing Miguel O'Hara later that day.

Miguel was not your average guy. He was Spider-Man, the Spider-Man of 2099 to be exact. You had met him during one of his time-traveling adventures, and since then, you two had formed a deep connection. Miguel's wit, intelligence, and caring nature had captivated your heart.

You arrived at the meeting spot, a quaint café tucked away in a side street. The scent of freshly brewed coffee and pastries wafted through the air, inviting you in. As you entered, your eyes scanned the room until they landed on a familiar face.

Miguel sat at a corner table, his face buried in a book. His dark hair was neatly combed, and he wore a simple yet stylish outfit. You approached him, a soft smile playing on your lips.

"Hey there, Spider-Man," you greeted him, sliding into the seat across from him.

He looked up from his book, his chocolate brown eyes meeting yours. A smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. "Hey, you," he replied, closing the book and placing it aside. "I've been looking forward to this all day."

You blushed at his words, feeling a flutter in your chest. "Me too. It's been too long."

The two of you spent the afternoon lost in conversation, laughing and sharing stories. Miguel recounted his recent battles with various supervillains, while you told him about your everyday life in the present. The chemistry between you was undeniable, and the café seemed to fade away as you focused solely on each other.

As the day turned into evening, the two of you decided to take a leisurely stroll through Central Park. The sun dipped below the horizon, casting a warm glow over the trees and pathways. You walked hand in hand, relishing the tranquility of the moment.

Miguel stopped near a small bridge, its iron railings framing the shimmering water below. He turned to face you, his gaze filled with affection. "You know," he began, his voice low and tender, "ever since I met you, my life has changed in ways I couldn't have imagined."

Your heart swelled at his words, and you couldn't help but lean closer to him. "I feel the same way, Miguel. You bring so much joy into my life."

He brushed a strand of hair behind your ear, his touch gentle and warm. "I want to be there for you, in every way possible. To support you, protect you, and make you feel loved."

A soft breeze rustled through the trees, creating a magical ambiance around you. The world seemed to disappear, leaving only the two of you in that special moment.

Miguel took a step closer, closing the distance between you. His lips grazed yours in a sweet, tender kiss. It was a kiss filled with promises and unspoken emotions, sealing the bond between you.

As you pulled away, a wide smile graced his face. "I've wanted to do that for so long," he admitted, his voice tinged with a hint of vulnerability.

"And I've wanted you to," you confessed, your voice barely above a whisper.

The night grew darker, but the city lights illuminated your path as you continued your walk through the park, hand in hand. The world felt a little brighter, a little more hopeful, with Miguel by your side.

Together, you weaved a web of love and companionship, facing whatever challenges may come your way. The future was uncertain, but as long as you had each other, you knew that everything would be okay.

#miguel o'hara #i loved writing this!!!#spiderman2099 #spiderman #atsv #miguel o'hara fluff fic #fluffy fic #tooth rotting fluff #fluf #atsv miguel #miles morales #gwen stacy #spider gwen #peter parker #peter parker

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misericordel · 4 months

Note

“ Veyle! Hold on, I'll come to you. ” And true to his word, after calling out to her, he rushes across to bridge the gap between them, hopping over obstacles if there are any in the path, before he comes up to her with a present box in hand. “ It's the Winter Festival, so here. I got you a gift. ”

Unwrapping the present, what Veyle would find inside the box is a small bracelet. Using some of her advice from before, he had selected one with beads that matched her look. It bore a black cord and was decorated with white and violet beads to match the feathers of her headdress and the color of her irises.

“ You seemed anxious about the idea of whether or not we're friends. ” Perhaps that was warranted of her. He wasn't one much for labels like that all on his own, but... “ So I asked around for ways to make you feel more at ease. I heard about these things called 'friendship bracelets.' They sounded similar to the ones that were looped around lances, but they're for us. So I got you and me one. ”

At this point, Leif holds up his left arm to show the one more tightly wound around his wrist. It bore the exact same colors— black, white, violet. “ So believe in me, OK?? ”

"wh!? huh!?" even with her superior (at least in relative to the common man) reflexes, leif's sudden appearance still comes as a surprise to her. "wait, don't hurt yourself—!" she tries to call out to him as he rushes across the bridge that had been separating them. a gift is thrust into her hands and it all just happens so quickly that she can barely keep up.

veyle blinks slowly, staring down at the box pushed in her hands as leif speaks of her anxiety in regards to being friends with him. it was not as if she kept it a secret, but how did he realize…? she opens up the box reluctantly and sucks in her breath at the sight of a beaded bracelet.

more than that though is the shard of emblem leif that she sees in him as he holds up his arm with an identical bracelet on his left wrist. "..i don't— i don't even know what to say." the fell princess speaks after a moment of silence as her gaze returns to the bracelet placed neatly in the box. "you didn't have to do all this for me. you didn't have to get me anything." her voice wobbles, tears forming in the corner of her eyes.

this isn't a day of worship, isn't a gift meant for her as a child of sombron or as a powerful ally. this isn't even a day that he should be thinking about her for, and yet…

a symbol of friendship finds its way in her hands, melded to her in a personal way that only mauvier or the divine one could have replicated. the fell princess sniffles, rubbing at her eyes and avoiding leif's gaze. "thank you."

#{ ic. }#{ veyle will now proceed to die for you }

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thebiscuiteternal · 1 year

Note

since you said crossovers were okay can we see some of that fashion buddies crossover you mentioned awhile back?

(Man, copypasting and editing this on my phone turned out to be a pain in the ass.)

----------

There are rumblings of a strange new monster wandering about the jianghu. It appears to be a woman dressed in scandalous black clothing with gold armor, except it can't be an actual woman because the scout reports say that she can grow taller than the trees or smaller than a bird, that she can fly on insect wings and shoot lightning from her hands.

A joke, the great sects think. A tale created and spread by drunkards.

Until a group of Lan disciples are the next to cross her path.

---

Janet van Dyne is having a very, very bad week. She's lost count of the number of magical or technological portals she's been tossed through in her lifetime, so at first she'd been grateful to at least have ended up on Earth this time.

And then the first group of people she had come across had promptly run screaming.

What Mandarin she's picked up on both her jobs is no help, since no one gives her time to speak before they attack, and like hell she's just going to stand there and let herself be stabbed.

Which has only led to this. Staring at a drawing of a snarling face under the hooded visor of her costume.

She groans and pinches the bridge of her nose to stave off a headache, then considers her options.

She's been (guiltily) stealing food in her small form already... maybe if she could nick some clothing, it would be easier to hide...

The only problem being that she would also need to steal a basin so she could particle-treat them to change size with her (no naked escapes, thank you very much), and that would be noticeable.

She's still deciding what to do when two young men, a grouchy looking one Steve's size in greens and greys and the other more placid one in the white and blue of the last group to try and kill her, enter the inn through the doorframe she's currently hiding on.

And they have swords like that last group.

Shit.

Time to go.

She slips out of a gap between boards and heads for the edge of town, but only a little ways away from the inn, she starts feeling inexplicably exhausted.

Maybe the sleep deprivation is catching up to her. Holes in trees and cracks in walls aren't exactly comfortable.

Without meaning to, her flight path starts drifting lower as the sleepiness gets worse.

-and then she's startled back to fully awake when she's snared right out of the air by a net with glowing threads.

"Fu-" <<Hey! Let me out!>>

The kid holding the net looks a year or two younger than Nadia and Ying, and... oh, damn, he's wearing the same colors as tall, dark, and grumpy back at the inn. That can't be a coincidence.

<<You don't look all that scary for a monster,>> he says, tilting his head.

Oh, thank God. Finally, someone who talks first instead of going right for stabby things.

<<That's because I'm not a monster,>> she replies, retracting her visor into her hood and yanking it back to uncover her hair, ears, and face.

<<But you are magical?>>

She briefly debates how much she should explain, then settles on keeping it simple. <<I was a science experiment.>>

That seems to be good enough, as the boy puts the net down on a table that passers-by are unlikely to notice, letting her start untangling herself.

He sits down and rests his chin on his fists with a grin she knows all too well promises mischief. <<So does that mean you don't want to use your giant size to crush thousands of innocents into soup?>>

<<Alright, one: That's morbid. And gross... Are people really saying that?>>

<<Among other horrors.>>

She groans. <<Great. No. Literally the only two things I want right now are a bath and some sleep.>>

Before he can answer, there's a commanding bark of "Huaisang!" from the street, and the kid winces.

<<Friend of yours?>>

<<My older brother,>> he replies, then scratches his cheek in thought. <<Can you hide in my sleeve?>

<<Your collar would be easier on both of us,>> Jan says. She's still wary, but seeing as he seems willing to risk trusting her, she'll go along.

She flutters up to settle between the third and fourth layers, hiding under his hair and tucking her wings in to curl herself up small.

<<All set?>>

She hopes she's not making a huge mistake. <<Let's go.>>

#mdzs #marvel #nie huaisang #janet van dyne #the wasp #fanfic #long post

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pcttrailsidereader · 11 months

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Excerpt from 'Walking Home'

I happened to meet Rick Rogers and one of his hiking partners in 2018 near Dove Springs in southern California. My friend Billie Robinson and I were headed toward Walker Pass. We had set up camp near an abandoned mine site when Rick and Cool Breeze passed by. Turned out Rick was from the same county Billie and I are in northwest Washington. That was a fun coincidence. Fast forward to 2023. A friend shared a book about someone's PCT experience entitled 'Walking Home'. As I began reading I noticed that there was something familiar about the author. Reading further I was sure I had met Rick. I looked back at my journal from the section where I had met the fellow from Conway and sure enough, there he and Cool Breeze were. I was intrigued and finally got in contact with Rick after meeting him several years ago.

Most hikers on the Pacific Crest Trail take zero days in towns every week or so to resupply, wolf down some easy calories, and just plain laze about to let their bodies recuperate and recharge.

Moving through nature at foot speed mile after mile creates its own reality, and it’s easy to feel more at home there than in any other. Zeroing in town, everything looks artificial, or alien, with people and machines doing unnatural and incomprehensible things. It can be disorienting for some and their thoughts and behavior can be affected. And some hikers, especially those fragile of mind, should just never zero, even when they resupply. Stopping can be just too weird for them… ]

Zero Days In Oregon

I had to stay put and kill a couple days in Medford while I waited for my lightweight tent and sleeping bag that my wife had mailed. I would be relieving my backpack of the heavy tent and sleeping bag that I had carried the 800 miles I’d walked since she had mailed them to me in Chester. Also going was the bear can I’d carried through 450 miles of it. From here north, fully half the weight I carried on my back would be gone.

I’d rented Medford’s best thirty-dollar-a-night hotel room. After a look inside, I decided to splurge for an extra amenity, so went to a nearby hardware store and spent another four dollars on some painter’s plastic to drape over the bed. I put my sleeping bag on it and sat down. A small TV was perched atop a dented microwave that in turn sat on a cigarette-burned corner stand next to the window. A cheerful TV newswoman was cautioning her viewers to stay indoors, as breathing the wildfire smoke outside was a serious health risk. I sat on my sleeping bag and plastic drop cloth, and contemplated the newswoman’s warning, while simultaneously trying to discern the origins of the stains on the walls of my room. As a civilized person of discernment, I realized that all risks are relative, actually. I went outside for a walk.

The next two days, while I waited for the mail to bring my lightweight gear (and for the antibiotics to calm my bladder down), I made little adventure walks around town. The built environment, as much as could be seen in the smoke haze anyway, seemed grimier, and somehow deficient compared to the trail’s scenery. The geometry of the sidewalks and walls was simpler, more planar, and lacked the curves and fractals that my eyes had grown accustomed to seeing. Their colors too, especially in the smoke haze, were less interesting.

Still, there were some landmarks of interest. Shopping Cart Island was among my favorites. There was a bike path along the creek and greenway that formed a sort of border zone between a shopping mall on the one side, and an industrial park on the other. A bridge connected the two, and it had a wide sidewalk bordered by a low guard rail. It was easy to lean over to watch spittle slurp down to the creek.

Apparently, the homeless people that lived in the thickets beside the bike path in the greenway took shopping carts from the mall’s parking lot and brought them back with them. It would have been rude to leave their shopping carts on the bike path in front of their camps in the thickets, so instead they thoughtfully threw them off the bridge and into the creek below.

The shopping carts had strained plastic bags and odd articles of clothing from the creek, and these partially submerged accretions were covered all over with scum and algae. They had made a sizable island in the creek’s sluggish current, and the disturbance spawned semi-predictable patterns of spinning little whorls. Dropping a globule of spittle into one of these took real perseverance.

That night, I had a phone conversation with Monica. Back home, she was having some trouble with subcontractors, and at one point told me that she wished I was there. I did too. There, on the painter’s plastic alone in my creepy hotel room the Trail adventure wasn't much fun, and it was difficult to see what novelties I had to look forward to. I’d walked nearly fifteen hundred miles already, and I was pretty sure I’d gotten the hang of it by then.

“Look, I have a rental car,” I said. “I could be home tomorrow and just put an end to this now.”

“Well, I just sent your stuff in the mail,” Monica said.

“I’ll just call them and have them send it back.”

“No, you can't do that.”

“Sure I can. Easy-peasy.”

“No, I mean you can’t quit. What would you tell your son if you just quit halfway through?”

“Halfway through? I’ve walked the whole length of California.”

“Your goal was to complete the PCT,” Monica reminded me. “California is only two-thirds of it. If you quit now, you'll have a hard time explaining it to Matthew. Besides, he’s looking forward to finishing the trail with you when you get to Washington.”

“Hmm.”

“Not to mention that you will regret it as soon as you get here, and you would continue to regret it for the rest of your life if you come home now.”

I held the phone but didn’t talk into it. Monica doesn’t enjoy silence, and neither can she abide indecision.

“I don't want you coming home any other way than by walking. Don't come home,” she said. “I don't want you here.”

My next room, in Cascade Locks, had a number of things that the Medford room hadn’t, like a door for the bathroom for instance. But it lacked those special features of interest that can make a stay so memorable. Missing was the Rorschach mold pattern in the shower stall, and the cigarette burns on the bedside table. And the light switches and the doorknobs didn’t have those layers of grime accreted to them that leave your hands feeling conveniently greasy and moisturized after you’ve touched them.

It had a nice view though, across the street towards the post office, with the Columbia River as backdrop. There’s not a lot of land between the single row of buildings fronting the main street and the river behind them, but there is some, and most of that the PCT hikers have claimed for free camping. They’ve named it, actually, calling it Shrek’s Swamp.

There was a great old-fashioned place for ice cream near the post office, and while I was there nursing a root beer float, I watched a guy wearing an oversized white button-down cotton shirt and a denim kilt walk into town. He had a large leather sling bag on his back, carried with a single strap of macrameed jute rope worn across his body. He was balding, had a scruffy red beard and freckles, and looked to be on the verge of an unpleasant sunburn.

Lately, I had seen a lot of people that had spent a lot of time outside, and he was a guy that looked as though he’d spent a lot of time outside. He wasn’t a through-hiker, though. His sling bag and strap were more suited for thumbing rides than for carrying gear over long distances, and he wore woolen socks in sandals. His clothes showed wear, but somehow, subtly, not in the same places as hikers’ clothing.

He was looking down as he walked, and it looked to me like the freckles on the top of his head were larger than the ones on his face. This didn’t make sense, because over time I thought, the skin on his face should have stretched more than the skin on his skull, so that his face freckles would have been bigger than his scalp ones. I decided that I must have misjudged them at first glance.

But as he came abreast of me, and I was making more careful observations, he must have felt my eyeballs on him because he stopped briefly to shake off my gaze with a quick stare-down and a curt nod. I nodded back to acknowledge that I would return to minding my own business and let him see my eyes slide off of him and back down to the root beer float in my hand.

I went back to my room, stripped down, and put on my rain gear. Everything else, I took to the hotel’s coin-op laundry. I went back to my room again to wait, but with nothing on underneath, rain gear gets sticky and uncomfortable. I took it off, so was sitting on the bed naked when I heard a ruckus outside.

I stuck my head out the window and heard shouting. “Hey, this is for PCT hikers only. You’re no hiker.”

Then another voice, “Yeah. This isn’t a homeless camp, so beat it, Scuzzy.”

I saw the denim kilt guy come back out onto the street from between two buildings. Apparently, he’d tried stopping to rest in that area the PCT’ers used for free camping, Shrek’s Swamp, and some of them didn’t like it. They were chasing him off with hurled threats and insults.

Even though he was already retreating, the first voice yelled again, louder, “And don’t come back again either, loser!”

That didn’t seem fair to me. I mean, they didn’t own the place, and they weren’t paying anything to camp there either. Maybe the guy was dressed a little funny, and maybe was homeless even, but really- his situation wasn’t all that different, materially, from the lifestyle we through-hikers had been living since spring. Those guys needed some perspective, needed to look within themselves to find some tolerance and understanding. I decided to illuminate them.

“Hey! You’re all a bunch of losers!” I yelled towards the Swamp.

“What? Who said that?”

I leaned farther out the window. “I did,” I yelled back. “You’re all a bunch of squatters, a bunch of freeloaders, a bunch of dirt-bagging, monkey-butts.”

“Oh yeah? Why don’t you come down here and say that?”

“I would, but I don’t have any clothes on!”

“You what?”

“Yeah, you heard me. You’re all dirt bag camping for free, and I have a hotel room. I paid for it, and I have a TV in here.”

“So?” The voice I was anonymously yelling at didn’t seem all that impressed, and I realized that paying for a TV wasn’t something that necessarily inflicts a through-hiker with jealousy. If I wanted a shot to land, I’d need to communicate something that would.

“AND, I have a bathroom door!” I added. “And YOU DON’T!!” I pulled my head back inside and closed the window, confident that my point had been made, and sat on the bed again naked and alone, and watched the little television in the little room that I had paid for.

But it was golf, and it was boring.

To read Rick's book 'Walking Home' follow this link:

Walking Home; Common Sense and Other Misadventures on the Pacific Crest Trail by Rick Rogers

A Zero in Tehachapi

#Rick Rogers #Walking Home #Zero Days #Medford #Oregon

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esoteric-mantra-stuff · 1 year

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Olympus (A rematched Icebound Return)

CW: General descriptions of curses and non-gory violence. It's nothing that could be considered gross, but I think it's worth mentioning.

Heyyyyy, here I am back on my bs. I wanted to get this one done before the end of March, but I've been a bit busy. Haven't had much time for creative writing. The next one might take a while to come out because of that, but we should be getting to some juicy stuff.

Also Morgott my beloved, why do you have to simp so hard for this ugly piss yellow tree?

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

In your many years of wandering the Lands Between, you had never set foot in the Atlus Plateau before, much less the royal capital. You’d heard whispers of a secret path, an ancient route long forgotten after the Great Lift of Dectus was created. The prawn seller you used to visit told you about it, but you’d never had the courage to try it. If it had not been for your companion’s affinity for exploring ruins, you’d likely have taken that secret path. Instead, you’d found both halves of the Dectus medallion required to activate the lift. A stroke of luck, perhaps, but part of you wants to believe its fate. As you made your way up the hallowed grounds where the demigods once stood, and the worship of the Erdtree began, something strange happened. You started to feel a sense of… Deja Vu?

The yellowish trees, the golden accents, the larger-than-life statues, the… everything felt almost familiar, but not quite. Like when you forget a word but can feel it on the tip of your tongue. You were sure you couldn’t have possibly been here; your first memories were at the First Step, learning what Tarnished are from a white masked doctor and that you were supposed to have a maiden with you to give guidance. Too far away from the Atlus Plateau, not to mention an exiled Tarnished descendant would have never been allowed the grace of visiting a place like that. It’s illogical. Still, you wonder if it’s a clue to your missing memories and bring it up to your companion or, rather, your lover.

“I only know about the Tarnished through second-hand information, but my understanding is that they’re exiles and their descendants who are being called back to reclaim the Elden Ring, right?” Lobo said, looking around the yellowish landscape. The two of you decided to take a break by a broken bridge. Private Dancer and Paper Moon, your dear horses, ate at the grass nearby. You nodded; that was more or less the same information you’d gathered during your time here. “Then, is it not possible you visited this place before being exiled? As part of Godfrey’s original group.” He asked before taking a bite of his sandwich. You tried remembering how you were when you first awoke in the First Step. Your body wasn’t that of a warrior dressed in nothing but a silky traveling robe and a navy hood. Armed with an old sorcery staff and a dagger. Would someone like that really belong amidst a company of warriors? You shook your head. “I don’t think that’s it… I have difficulty believing someone like me could’ve ever belonged with them.” Lobo was a bit disappointed; you appreciated his help regardless. “Besides, I was little more than fifteen or sixteen when I woke up at the First Step. That a bit too young, don’t you think?” He hummed affirmatively, crossing his arms before a mischievous smile formed. “Blast, I felt like I was on the right track. Though I suppose you don’t look over five thousand years old.” You chuckle. “I’m sorry; I can tell you were looking forward to calling me old.” He laughed at that, and you couldn’t help but join. The conversation drifted from there, but the mystery remained. You had a connection with the Atlus Plateau; you just didn’t know why.

—---------------------------

The way through the Capital itself was a nightmare. You were under siege by the Leyndell soldiers and knights from every side. The main entrance was a no-go, positively crawling with enemies. So you took the long way around, over the broken bridge through a convenient waygate, past a village of windmills, and through a side gate. It was still heavily guarded, but more possible to tackle head-on than the main gate. Golems, soldiers, the undead, knights, and even a draconic erdtree sentinel posed a relentless challenge, yet you surpassed every single one with your combined might and ingenuity. By the time you were inside Leyndell proper, you and Lobo were exhausted. You would have continued, but Lobo insisted that exhaustion would only lead to fatal mistakes. Besides, he wanted to head for the Roundtable Hold to shop for an item he had his eyes on last time. So you conceded. Still, with the Elden Ring just a few city streets away, you wouldn’t find much sleep that night. Would the answers you seek come to you once your reason to be was fulfilled?

The city streets were not any easier to traverse than the outskirts. Knights patrolled every corner, and what you could only describe as marshmallow people holding trumpets stalked the rooftops. A large Erdtree Avatar wandered the main city street, so you took to the avenues to avoid it. Eventually, you made it to the base of the Erdtree. You climbed its roots together, holding Lobo’s hand so he wouldn’t fall on the treacherous path. Finally, you reached the top of a tall building nestled within the branches. Inside, the ghostly apparition of a man you didn’t recognize attacked you. Lobo quickly summoned the spirit of a Bloodhound Knight whose spirit ashes you’d obtained within a forgotten Evergaol on your last excursion to Limgrave. You and Lobo stood by and watched them fight. It was surprisingly entertaining; you could almost see a market for watching two spirits duke it out. The agile movements of the knight were enough to banish the stranger, and you continued your exploration. You discovered an elevator that would allow you to return to the city, but more importantly, you uncovered yet another root that could lead you further up and closer to the Elden Throne.

That’s how you found yourself in Marika’s bed chamber. A large, uncomfortable-looking bed surrounded by stone tablets. You would think that an eternal goddess queen of the Lands between could afford some pillows at least. To your right, up a flight of stairs, was the Elden Throne. You’d spent so long wandering, living day-to-day, never thinking about yourself or your purpose. You’d given up your destiny long ago, yet here it was, just a few steps away. All it took was a chance encounter with a quarter-wolf for that to change. As you both stand before the first step, you stop to look at each other. Looking into his eyes, you can only hope you can repay what he has given you. With a determined nod, you make your way toward the throne room.

—-----------------

“Graceless Tarnished.” A figure speaks from the shadows behind the Elden Throne. The figure is horned and tall, an Omen. “What is thy business with these thrones?” The Omen says, could this be the true appearance of the Veiled Monarch? His voice is very familiar. Yes, you’ve met this Omen before. You’d killed him last time, though. “He did say he would return.” You think to yourself. “When Rennala said the king’s true face was that of a monster, she wasn’t lying, it seems.” The horned figure revealed to be Margit the Fell, gesticulated towards the ethereal thrones before him. “Ah… Godrick the Golden, The Twin Protegees Miquela and Maleina…” The three thrones on your left belonged to them, it would seem. “General Radhan, Praeter Rykard, Lunar Princess Ranni…” The three thrones on your right belong to them. You don’t miss the disgust in Margit’s voice when Ranni’s name exits his lips. “Willful traitors, all.” He punctuates the last word with a hit of his staff, embedding it in the ground.

Lobo leans in to whisper. “Get ready while he’s distracted.” You give a short nod, slowly concentrating the power within your staff. This is a known enemy. You won’t let him catch you off-guard. “Thy kind are all of a piece… Pillagers emboldened by the flame of ambition.” The Omen addresses you directly, crushing his staff and revealing an iridescent blade beneath. “Have it written upon thy meager grave… Felled by King Morgott, Last of all kings!” Margit, or rather, Morgott exclaims, raising his sword to his side. The Omen king’s soliloquy has ended; now it’s time for the final act. Lobo raises his shield, and you hold on to your staff with both hands. This is it.

Lobo is the first to approach Morgott. The Omen King walks slowly and deliberately, probably expecting yet another trick. He also remembers your last encounter. He is not fooled by your companion’s wobbling steps and keeps guarding despite the apparent lack of danger. That’s fine. If he can learn from his mistakes, so can you. Once Lobo is close enough to be within the king’s range, Morgott swings at him, summoning a hammer of light with the other hand, but before he can slam it down, Lobo’s shield makes contact with the blade, knocking Morgott off-balance and breaking the spell. The Omen king isn’t deterred by this and swings down, this time at an angle impossible to parry. Lobo rolls towards Morgott’s legs, sliding under his tail as it swings to catch him. From behind, he strikes a few times with his sword before Morgott summons yet another hammer and brings it down, which Lobo dodges away from with a backflip (You remember him being very proud when he pulled that off for the first time). The Omen King makes the mistake of attempting to reach Lobo with his sword, Morgott may be fast, but your companion is already on his feet before it can connect. Another strike at the shield, knocking the sword away, bringing the king to his knees. Lobo’s longsword plunges into the Omen’s chest, and he’s thrown back on the floor. He’s in your line of sight.

Then you hear the finger snap; that’s your cue. You start charging up the spell, the power of the Primal current causing the wind to blow in every direction. You’d only used this spell once to mostly disastrous results, but now with your current training and the queen’s advice, you feel prepared. From behind the light of your staff, you see Lobo raise his hand with the shield, revealing the object he had been holding this entire time. A small fetish, purchased from the Roundtable Hold, the one who would form the crux of the plan you’d laid out together. Yes, this was a known enemy from the start, and you only have the queen to thank for that. Before Morgott can stand up, your companion activates the shackle and pins the king to the floor. At that moment, you release your spell, hitting the poor Omen with the full power of Comet Azur. The force is enough to knock you back, but you stand firm.

Lobo shields his eyes from the light of the Comet. As the shackle finally breaks, Morgott is sent flying toward the throne, knocking it over. You thought that would be enough, but then the coughing started. Lobo stood back as Morgott let out a painful-sounding scream, and the full force of his curse was unleashed. You worry as you briefly lose sight of the quarter-wolf when the waves of curse burst from the king. “The thrones… stained by my curse….” The king said, swinging his now cursed sword towards Lobo. A red trail, followed by explosions in its path. The Omen king continues speaking, mostly to himself. “Such shame, I cannot bear. Thy part in this shall not be forgiven.” You tried running towards them, but you’d given too much to summon the Comet and fall to your knees. To think someone could survive after being hit with the strongest spell. Morgott’s power truly is on a whole other level. Regardless the Omen must be weak, as his hits are fast and desperate. One successful parry from Lobo, and it’s all over.

That’s why your heart sinks, and your vision blurs when you see your lover be skewered by Morgott’s cursed sword. His body disappearing into ash. You’d come so far it couldn’t end like this. Morgott, who seems satisfied with his duty, now turns towards you, and the sense of Deja Vu returns. You have been in this position before, during the first time you fought him. Perhaps, that’s why your vision drifts toward something behind Morgott that he doesn’t seem to have noticed. Something that tells you this fight has been won already. Something so stupid, you can’t believe it’s working.

For whatever reason, there’s a random pot right behind Morgott.

It’s over in a flash. The effect of the Mimic Veil fades, and Lobo somersaults towards Morgott’s back, catching him by surprise and throwing him down. Before the Omen can recognize what happened, Lobo’s sword is plunged through his back, finishing him off. “Tarnished… thou art but a fool… the Erdree wards off all who deign approach….” With the last of his strength, Morgott struggles to speak. You finally manage to stand up and approach the dying Omen. “We are… We are all forsaken….” A sad chuckle leaves him before all life fades from his eyes. On paper, it’s a victory, but the title of Elden Lord was never as close as it once seemed. Fate played yet another cruel trick.

—------------------

Thorns… a wall of thorns covered the way inside the Erdtree. Were they those of a regular plant, cutting them with a sword would have done the trick, but all attempts to do so failed. What gives? Why did Marika even call the Tarnished back to the Lands Between if she had no intention of letting them mend the Elden Ring? What was the point?

…

You’re too tired to ponder these questions. Today ended with no major injuries (If you don’t count the Mimic Tear that got skewered), just a deep sensation of dismay. Tomorrow you’ll have to consult with the finger reader at roundtable hold, though you doubt the Two Fingers will give much insight. As far as you can remember, the fingers have been quiet, unresponsive to the world, stretched out, and trying to reach some unknowable force, but you’re out of options, and someone must know what to do. That someone, as it turns out, was waiting for you at Sorcerer’s Isle.

“I see… You never intended to keep your promise after all… What do you want, Ranni?” Lobo says upon seeing the Princess sitting by the fire. The witch lifts her head as you both take a seat by the fire as well. She speaks in her usual measured tone, her hands folded over her lap. “Circumstances have forceth me to breach our accord. Although, first, I wouldst liketh to congratulate thee over thine victory against the Omen King.” Lobo lets out a joyless laugh, and you sigh. With them sitting on opposite sides of the fire and you sitting between, it would appear you’ll be stuck playing mediator today.

Lobo stokes the flames, not making eye contact with the woman across from him. “I would hardly call it a victory, considering the Elden Ring is still out of reach… That’s why you’re here, isn’t it?” Ranni’s face betrayed no emotion, yet the slight recoiling of one of her fingers makes you feel he’s right on the money. “There’s a reason you’re still lingering about even though you have everything you need. So, spit it out already. Why are you here, and what do you want?” Tense silence falls over the camp after Lobo’s words. You can almost picture the daggers flying left and right as both sides stare each other down. You’re too tired for this, so you clear your throat. Both sides now stare toward you, their intensity redirected, but you can’t seem to care. “Excuse me, but I would rather avoid a fight. I’m sure you’re tired too, Lobo, so please let Ranni explain herself.” He falters, ears pinning back. Looking down in shame. “Right… I’m sorry, I didn’t consider… I shouldn’t have.” It’s not a complete sentence, but you understand what he means. You motion towards Ranni, who looks almost surprised at Lobo’s change of tune. The witch bows her head, a silent apology for misbehaving as well. “I believeth we can be of mutual help… To open a way to the Elden Ring, thou shall needeth to set it alight. A cardinal sin against the Golden Order, but t’is the only way.” To your and Lobo’s surprise, Ranni removes her white hat, revealing the pale blue, youthful face of the doll beneath. “It is mine wish to help thee reach thine goal. Iji knoweth of an ancient flame of the giants, one with enough power to burneth the thorns that block thine path away. I will assisteth thee in exchange for thine help.” Lobo crosses his arms, looking down at the flames. “Right… and if we refuse?” Ranni shakes her head. “Thou art free to refuseth mine help, but it truly is mine wish to help thee.” A skeptical hum. Lobo looks toward you for advice. You can picture the question in his mind: "Do you feel she's being honest?"

You shift your gaze over to the Princess. Ranni’s stoic as always, but the slight fidgeting with the edge of her hat’s rim, and her gaze wandering between the fire and Lobo’s face spoke of nervousness. At face value, she was being honest about her feelings, but you can’t discard the possibility of a trap. Your empathic abilities might be developed, but they’re not infallible. You look at Lobo, and through his gentle gaze you get the scope of his trust for you, and his trust in your ability. “Well… If he has that much faith in me, I think it would only do to have faith in myself as well” You think, and you give Lobo a slight nod. He looks down at the fire once more, turing things over in his mind before he finally breaks the tense silence between the three of you. “Alright… We’ll hear you out, but I can’t promise anything until I know what you expect in return.” Ranni’s bows her head respectfully, but she continues to avert Lobo’s gaze. “I thank thee…” It’s a quiet thing, but once again it sounds genuine. You can only hope this doesn’t bite you in the ass later.

“Thy task wouldst be concering this item.” The witch pulls out a small leather bag that sways on it’s own, almost as if trying to get away from her. She stands up and passes it to Lobo before returning to her seat. Lobo opens the bag, his eyes widen at the contents. With trembling fingers he reaches inside and pulls out a familiar grotesque blade made from bone. “The Fingerslayer Blade shall accept no other master…” Ranni says, putting her hat back in place.

“Slay the Two Fingers that hold us captive, and I shall deliver the Elden Throne to thee.”

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risebird · 2 months

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Development during Design

There is often a gap between our ‘Design’ and ‘Development’ stages of product delivery. Basically, when design is done, there is usually some hand-off process to the developers. But how do these two phases interplay with each other? Well, there are different groups of people responsible for each stage: One could argue that developers do not want to receive requirements that are not ‘fully baked’ or subject to change, causing the developer to be hesitant to make major changes for fear of having to redo the work. One could also argue that a designer doesn’t want developers to start working on something that the designer is still tinkering with, again fearing the developers will waste time pursuing an outdated design. But is it possible that both of these arguments are wrong? What if you could have design and development happen in a more-or-less the same time frame? Can this be achieved through increased interactivity, collaboration, and feedback? I believe such a development process is possible, and I believe it could help turn ideas into delivered products faster and with more efficiency.

But do we have the tools to support this today? Having a tokenized design system is a good start. It means that your team has at least thought about how to distribute the design tokens and variables into your application code base. This is a form of integration between design and development that achieves some of the desires of the two groups but still doesn’t improve on the linear hand-off process. For designers, it means that what they have envisioned visually has a more-defined path into the code; however, the developers still have to turn the design into code, and this transformation is imperfect. For developers, it means the designs begin to resemble modular code pieces; but again, they still need to transform them into actual code. The gap between design and code is still there because there is no technological bridge between them. This means that doing these phases at the same time will still have too much unnecessary back-and-forth, especially from developers having to turn design updates into code changes all the time. Until we solve the technological gap here, designers will still be ‘throwing things over a wall’ to developers to some extent.

So how do we create this ‘technological bridge’ without compromising standards or vital processes on either side? The simple answer is to fuse the design tools with the development tools. Have them operate under one language under the hood, and have them generate the code that developers can use. Meanwhile, the UI of the designer tools should behave the same way as before so that designing the application still works the same way. I mean, why shouldn’t the developer get the work that has already been done to position and layout the elements in their correct places by the designer? Why can’t the developer get visual HTML elements that have already shown up in the design mock-ups? As developers, we should be able to leverage the flexibility of the design tools to generate the visual and layout elements of early code structures.

A developer could request to get the generated code of the UI design or of a specific element within it; yet, even this still doesn’t feel interactive enough. There is still a ‘one-way flow’ from ‘finished’ designs to developer. To get larger productivity gains, we need developers to leverage the design tools in a more interactive way. Design should almost become a developer-oriented experience, somewhat akin to an online ‘white-boarding’ tool. But for this, we need something more advanced. We need a design tool that doubles as a code-playground. In other words, you should be able to change the visual design by updating its code, and change its code by updating the visual design. As most know, the main formats of code within a web application are HTML, CSS, and JavaScript; but we can just start with the first two to make things simple. As long as the CSS and HTML is updated when designers make a visual change, and as long as the visual design is updated when developers change the CSS or HTML, then I think this suffices for the minimal functionality that such a ‘playground’ requires.

An even more advanced playground could have actual components as part of the pieces that you can play with. You could then quickly pick and choose which components you want to integrate together and play around with a prototype that could be converted into actual code easily. Seems like a dream scenario, but how can we realistically get there? For one, Web Components are not a bad place to start. By definition, they are self-contained and able to work on any web application since web browsers have natively supported this technology for a while now. Indeed, Web Components could be a great fit for such a design playground, especially since there would be less “framework” overhead to worry about during QA. By bringing the components into such a design playground and keeping them accessible to developer and designer alike, we can create entire integration setups of applications ‘ahead of time’. Perhaps this could even be done, dare I say it, all in one phase. Does this mean the distinctions between the ‘Design’ and the ‘Development’ phases become blurred? I think the answer is yes, and I see development process possible where we have designers and developers start almost simultaneously on new feature development. However, I also think this is an intriguing idea that needs to have the proper tools built out to support such a playground first. But nonetheless, the idea that your designs start their life as usable developer code is quite powerful!

But really, how do we build this? Creating and configuring such an environment might not be easy, but it is not impossible either. In the meantime, we can explore tools like Figma’s ‘Dev Mode’, which was built to appease developers trying to turn designs into code. They seem to support lots of helpful features that help with this and have made it easier for their developers to use the designs. Is it the full solution? I don’t think so. They admit that it is not always easy to make the switch to using their ‘Dev Mode’, but they are eagerly racing ahead with more development on their product so I am sure it will keep growing. There are probably a number of other products that attempt to achieve similar technological improvements to how we operate between ‘Design’ and ‘Development’. Building something more custom yourself might also be the way to go since I don’t think the actual technologies involved are that complicated. Most of all, I think it is the way that we are used to operate within these phases that might be the hardest to change.

But the sell here is not difficult. There are so many benefits. By fusing design with development in this way, some issues can then be avoided or fixed during the design phase, before ‘development’ even starts. Even QA can be involved earlier, and we can feel more confident and be assured of quality earlier in the process. Developers will have access to actual code from the designs, earlier in the process. Designers will even get up-to-date developer changes in their designs, so that the feedback and review process between developer and designer is minimized. The playground becomes a central place where designers and developers can start work almost at the same time. A place that focuses on interactiveness and real-time feedback of changes to the working design. The design itself actually becomes a working prototype version of the code. In other words, developers can take it and build on top of it without having to change what is already in the design. So there now becomes less of an ‘owner’ to this phase, and more of a collaboration between everyone who interacts with this playground. The utility of this playground would also be expanded to product owners and decision makers of all kinds. The common goal being the faster delivery from idea to product through more powerful research and prototyping interactivity during the ‘Design’ phase.

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