#i feel like i'm in a strangers house

[hinamie]

Shiro redesign shiro redesign please accept my newly whorish boy

[trensu]

have another snippet of stasis in darkness! just 'cuz i'm bored tbh, and kinda stuck on all my wips i'm currently working on.

The seventh night:

“Has he spoken to you yet?”

“How could he when you’re here yammering my ear off every night?”

“He’s a god, I’m sure it wouldn’t be that hard for him to shut me up.”

“Even gods have their limits.”

“Oh, har har. The warrior’s got jokes. You didn’t answer my question.”

“...not yet,” Steve said stiffly. 

“It’s been how long now? A week?” The man hummed in a falsely thoughtful manner. “Maybe he’s just not that into you, man. Maybe he’s letting you down easy.”

At his words, Steve involuntarily curled his shoulders inward, slightly, ever so slightly, in defense. He'd been wondering that same thing earlier that day. Steve had toiled hours in the sun to fix up the shrine; to make it welcoming; to encourage a divine visit. 

He had stopped wearing his armor to free up more time to work. Putting it on and taking it off took too long, and he didn't have to maintain it as much if he wasn't wearing it regularly. He stuck to only his chainmail. He'd kept his shield stored away, too, so it wouldn't get in the way while he worked. Though, he made sure to keep his sword nearby.

He’d taken his knife and traced over the etchings of stars in the alcove that served as a backdrop to the statue. His knife had been ruined but it didn't matter. The Lord of Night would probably want the stars of his dark sky with him, he reasoned, and these had worn so thin. Sadly, it was the only detail he could bring out of all the stone. The statue’s face was so crumbled that Steve couldn’t even begin to guess what it had originally looked like.

He had discovered that the vines he chose to keep were moonflowers. They had blossomed every night since he’d removed the other more invasive plants. He'd draped them carefully so they lay across the statue's shoulders, wrapped lovingly around its torso and clung to its waist before the ends of the vines trailed off at the knees. 

The strange man might have made himself a nuisance during his visits but he never stayed the whole night. Steve had been able to get a few hours of makeshift prayers at the shrine every night. He’d done all this, yet dawn broke every day without a single sign that the Lord of Night had been listening.

“Warrior?”

Steve broke out of his reverie. He refused to look at the man. He had to clear his throat roughly before he could speak.

“It wouldn’t be the first time I’ve been rejected by someone I love." Steve tried not to dwell on his father's perpetual scowl and his mother's infinite disinterest. "I’m pretty used to my devotion being one sided by now.”

“That’s a bummer,” the man said. His sympathy was meant to be teasing, Steve could tell, but it came out surprisingly sincere. “Good thing you have a whole pantheon! Strong guy like you? Any god would take you to be their warrior in a heartbeat.”

“What are you talking about? No, I’m nowhere near done with his shrine,” Steve said determinedly. “I know a silversmith and a stone mason who’d give me a hand, and Dustin and Robin have been dying to come up here to bring him offerings. The only reason they didn’t come with me is because I had to do the pilgrimage on my own if I wanted a shot at earning his blessing.”

The man spluttered.

“Are you insane? A god rejects you and you’d come back? What kind of stupid–were you dropped on your head as a child?

“A couple times, but that doesn’t have anything to do with it.”

“Are you sure? Have you checked? You should go to one of the gods of medicine. Owens, maybe. Have him take a look at your head,” the man huffed in frustration. "For stars' sake, why would you want to come back?"

He ignored the insult to his intelligence. For stars' sake. Steve murmured the words to himself, letting them settle in his mouth to get a feel for them. He'd never heard of that one before. He liked how it rolled off the tongue, natural as anything. 

The man waited for his response. Steve took a moment to try to sort out his words. He kept his head bowed towards the shrine as he ruminated.

“People barely remember my god,” Steve finally said. “And when they do, they remember him as something he’s not. Even if he doesn’t believe I’m worthy of carrying his crest, he shouldn't be forgotten.” 

The man said nothing. Steve took a shuddering breath before the quiet could take over. 

“Having someone forget you is…it’s very lonely. Which is the worst feeling. I…I guess I don’t want him to be lonely anymore.”

The silence that followed his statement stretched long enough that Steve started falling into that meditative state he’d learned during his many nights at the shrine. It helped dull the twisted up, unsteady sensation that lingered from the man’s prodding at his every self-doubt and fear.

“He hasn’t rejected you yet, though,” the man broke Steve's musings awkwardly.

“He hasn’t reached out to me either. It’s fine. I’ll keep coming either way.”

Another silence. It was around the time the man usually left Steve to his worship. He didn't hear retreating footsteps. Instead, the man cleared his throat, and when Steve looked up at him, the man turned his face away, shrouding it in gloom.

“Maybe he’s nervous. Maybe that’s why he hasn’t contacted you yet.”

“Nervous? No way.”

“He sounds like a godly weirdo,” the man said. “Maybe he’s never had a holy warrior before and doesn’t know what to do.”

“He’s the good kind of weirdo! And there’s no way he’s not had a warrior carry his symbol. He must’ve had loads back in the day. I probably don’t meet his standards,” Steve smiled lopsidedly, playing off his insecurity.

“I’m serious!” the man exclaimed. “It’s possible! Some gods never get warriors. Some never want them at all!

“Look, even if I was the first to offer to be his, he’d know he didn’t have to be nervous,” Steve insisted. "I’ve never served a god before either! I wasn’t sure I could have faith at all until I learned about him. So like, if he’s new to it then so am I, and we’d figure it out together.”

“...you really mean that, don’t you? You’d let him make it up on the fly if he took you on.”

“Well, yeah,” Steve shrugged.

“You’d keep coming back even if he rejected you?”

“Yep.”

“But why? That’s so stupid. Nobody would do that!” The man sounded frustrated.

“I’m not really known for my smarts,” Steve said matter-of-factly. “Robin and Dustin had to translate the only book we found about the Lord of Night because I definitely wouldn't have been able to. It was a tiny book but it still took them ages to do because the language doesn’t really exist anymore. So they told me it’s possible it’s not accurate. It felt true, though, to me. 

“There was this quote, I can’t recite it word for word, but…it was something about how monsters don’t always look monstrous, and the monstrous aren’t always things to be feared.”

“That sounds ridiculous,” the man protested. Steve shook his head.

“No, it’s true! Like, I know I’ve got a pretty face and really great hair,” he smirked when he heard the man scoff, “but I was such a fucking asshole when I was younger. I went around hurting people on purpose, tearing them down for no reason other than I was hurting too, and that’s the shittiest reason to hurt anyone. I had to get some sense knocked into me by the people I call friends now. 

“My friends are the greatest people I know, and I’m really lucky to have them, but to everyone else? My friends are losers. They’re rejects because they don’t act right or they don’t look right; they talk too much or too loudly. People treat them like shit because they're different. 

“And after I noticed that, I started seeing it more even if I don’t always pick up on it. And I still mess up sometimes. I'm not a god, I can't change the world but…in the stories Robin and Dustin translated, the Lord of Night helped people like my friends because it was always the weak and rejected that try to hide themselves in the dark. I want to help those people find him again so they know they’ve got someone holy in their corner. They should know someone loves them enough to protect them.”

Steve didn’t really know where all those words came from; he wasn’t a wordsmith like Robin and Dustin. He always had a hard time verbalizing his thoughts, and he usually messed up the words. Nonetheless, these words had almost burned to be said. 

When the speech that flowed from him finally reached a natural end, he felt…lighter, cleaner. He felt like his shield and sword when they were polished to a shine. But when he turned to see his audience’s reaction, the man had gone. Steve felt strangely dejected instead.

–

The eighth night:

“Hey, it’s me again. My supplies are low and I don’t know what your thoughts about hunting on your land are so I’d rather not…I don’t want you to think I’m disrespecting you. I might have to leave soon to get more supplies,” Steve swallowed nervously. “Which isn’t an ult..ultimate…? No, damn, what is it called? I’m not trying to force you to talk to me before then, is what I mean. Not–not that I could! With you being a god.” 

Steve scoffed at his own blundering. He should’ve had Robin help him make speech notes. Cards with conversation starters. Something! He took a deep breath and tried again.

"But I'm coming back, I promise. I meant what I said about fixing up your shrine. I’ll commission a new plaque and I’ll talk to the stonemason about replacing your plinth. I don’t know a lot about sculpture, but I’ll get you the strongest type of stone and get something nice carved on it. Your flowers? Or cats? Cats are cute. Maybe your bats would be better…?” Steve trailed off.

It was quiet save for the faint rustle of leaves in the cool breeze. The full moon illuminated the area more than ever before. The shrine must have really been a beautiful sight back in its heyday. The thought of it sent a pang of longing through his soul.

The hour came that the strange man usually showed up. Steve steeled himself for another round of questions, another jab at his faith. The hour went by with Steve alone in the clearing. Steve frowned.

“Do you think he’s okay?” 

Steve’s question went unanswered.

After another hour without seeing his stranger, Steve had finally convinced himself to round the perimeter for a quick check in case the man was nearby or in need of assistance. When he found nothing, he checked again in case he missed something. 

Still nothing. Uneasily, Steve gave up his search and returned to the shrine. He knelt before it again, head bowed. He cleared his throat.

“Lord of Night, I don’t know his name, and I know he’s been rude–annoying–but could you please watch over the man? Please keep him safe from harm for as long as the stars shine tonight. Thank you.”

He received no response, but Steve had faith. He knew he was heard. He knew his god wouldn’t let an innocent come to harm if he could prevent it.

ps: i do not do those reader tag list things. if you’d like to keep up with my stuff, follow my writing tag: trensu tells stories

[sofipitch]

Gothic fiction is when there is an old mansion, that's it

[prolibytherium]

My dad was very against me getting a dog and then IMMEDIATELY fell in love with her. Like he absolutely adores her. He started off like 'uggh I don't want to end up having to take care of it' and now he REQUESTS to babysit her every couple weeks or so just for fun. He will just sit there petting her and chuckling and saying "She just makes me laugh :)" to himself. He calls himself her 'grandpa'. The bond between an aging father and the pet he didn't want is probably the deepest love on earth.

[florallylly]

that one au where steve harrington goes to nursing school and every week after clinical he pulls up to robin's dorm for fast food. drive thru. shared fries. parked at a "viewpoint" which is really just the edge of a fuckin cliff. deep talks until 3 am. deeply unwell

[rotisseries]

everyone is always saying modern au will would listen to this or that artist who is not in his usual genre just because he would relate to the lyrics and this is of course not at all how music taste works but if it was will would actually listen to midwest emo. because every song is about how much your shitty hometown fucking sucks

[mymarifae]

aHA! i have finally figured out why i never jived with the kanade tenma hc. like you know me. THE found family guy. even if i don’t hc it myself i can still have fun watching other people have fun. but this one was always just 1. confusing and 2. not fun for me to see and i could never articulate why but i’ve got it now

the entire problem with Kanade Tenma is as a whole the fandom has a tendency to treat kanade like an orphan. like she has no family, no support system, like she’s all alone and needs to be taken in by the... tenmas... for some reason... (still not sure why the fandom decided she needs to be a tenma like she’s never even met tsukasa or saki. how is she getting over there. if she’s getting taken in by anybody it should be like... the mochizukis) and it’s like... guys. you do realize she’s not an orphan, right? she has family. she has good family. idr all the reasons why her grandma doesn’t live with her, but i’m assuming it’s along the lines of her being too old and frail to properly take care of a child at this point in her life - which is why she set kanade up with that caretaker/housekeeper system. it’s not perfect, but at least she isn’t being left to fend for herself

her dad is alive. just because he had a stroke and is now experiencing vascular dementia doesn’t mean he’s basically dead or that kanade is basically fatherless or something awful like that. (i’m genuinely still not sure what the fuck the game thinks it wrote irt what put kanade’s dad in the hospital but like. it wrote a stroke followed by vascular dementia. that’s what it did. “burnout” my fucking ass) i know at the end of the day kanade tenma is ultimately just a harmless headcanon, but like... please take a moment to think about the message even your most harmless headcanons might send. “if your parent is suffering from dementia and no longer recognizes you... well you don’t have a parent anymore. you need a new one. sorry.” obviously no one intends to say such a horrible thing, but remember that intent <<<<<<< final impression left on your outside audience.

having a family member that you love so much forget about you is a story that needs to be told. the prsk fandom needs to take a step back and just let this be told As It Is. kanade’s family is so, so fucking important to her. she’s only the person she is today because of her parents and all the gratitude and love she feels for them both. like, literally her most recent focus was her realizing how loved she was in light of mafuyu’s mother’s coldness. she knows that she experienced true unconditional love - something that mafuyu’s mom seems incapable of giving her daughter - and she still carries that love and warmth in her heart now. it’s what defines her as a person. it’s what gives her the courage to continue living. it’s why she believes she can save mafuyu and so many other people. she has that memory of what real genuine honest to god unconditional love is, and she’s so fucking determined to share it with the world.

kanade doesn’t... need a “new” family. her family may have suffered multiple tragedies, and it may be fragmented and a little broken, but... it’s hers. i don’t think it’s in good taste to take that away from her and try to “fix” her by placing her in a “better” family. it’s completely unnecessary.

[icewindandboringhorror]

I have found a beautiful perfect humble rock specimen that is light yellow with a weird dark yellowy brown lining, somewhat resembling a chunk of smoked gouda cheese... effervescent

[etakeh]

Switched internet companies recently, to a fiber service instead. Got rid of Comcast, yay me.

I knew that the connection was in my bedroom closet, but I had everything put away in tidy so I wasn't too worried.

The person came in, rattled around in there for 20 minutes, and took off.

I just now, two days later, opened my closet to get my jammies. And realize that maybe I should have been a little more careful with where I put things before I let a stranger into my closet.

I mean, it's not illegal. and it's actually filled with first aid supplies, but they wouldn't know that.

And if they looked too carefully, they'd probably seen the gas mask in the crate underneath it.

But seriously where am I supposed to put my emergency stuff, besides right there in the closet where I can grab it if I need it.

I keep telling myself, I'm sure they've seen way worse. But still.

[lorephobic]

idk how to even like. put this pain into words and i would normally vent about this shit on twitter, but the person its about follows me on there so like. anybody have skills for coping with the crushing realization that the person u love most in this world and have built ur life around sees ur current situation together as a temporary hurdle that's preventing them from their truest and happiest self which. is separate from u entirely? anyone know how to deal with this?

[trensu]

an excerpt of the newest chapter of the halfway house fic based on this past post. Enjoy :)

“Steve, come get your furry little menace! He’s chewing up my laces again,” Robin grumbled.

“Maybe if your laces are ruined, you’ll finally buy a new pair of shoes,” Steve snarked. Steve walked to the living room to find Robin attempting to tie her old Converse only to snatch back her hands every time the kitten took a swipe at the laces in question. “He’s just a baby. He wants to play.”

“He can get his own laces to play with, then. And there’s nothing wrong with my shoes. I’m not going to go buy new shoes when these are perfectly functional. And my favorite color.”

Steve scooped the kitten up even as he kept reaching for the laces and cuddled him to his chest. Steve rubbed gently behind the kitten’s ears until the kitten relaxed into tiny purrs.

“What do you think, Dustin? Should Robin get new shoes? Raise your paw if you agree with me,” Steve said. He lifted the kitten’s right paw and waved it a bit, making the kitten squirm. “See, he agrees with me.”

Robin snorted and rolled her eyes at his teasing smile. “I still can’t believe you named him Dustin.”

The kitten chose that moment to start climbing up Steve’s shirt to reach his shoulder. His tiny claws pricked at Steve’s skin through the thin fabric but they were so small, they barely hurt at all. Steve laughed as the kitten settled on his shoulder and began to mew at the top of his lungs.

“It’s not my fault he looks like a Dustin,” Steve insisted. When he brought the kitten home two days ago, Robin tried to name him something else but Steve put his foot down about it. He found the kitten, and he thought the kitten was a Dustin, so no other name was allowed. 

Dustin let out another mew so loud he nearly toppled over. Steve pulled him off his shoulder with an amused huff. Dustin wriggled incessantly in his hands. Steve lost his grip on him but thankfully he had gotten him close enough to the ground by then that the fall was negligible to a cat.

“Okay, okay, we’ll play for a little while, you needy baby.”

He and Robin were waiting for payday to run to the pet store for more supplies. They were lucky that their neighbor across the hall had an old litter box that her cat had outgrown, and a couple of spare food bowls. She had even given them a few cans of wet food, cooing over the kitten all the while. Dustin, apparently, was a charming little guy. He obviously took after Steve. Robin had punched him on the arm when he said as much.

In the meantime, they were using old bits of string and a little orange ball Robin had stolen back when they worked at a mini-golf place. The kitten seemed to enjoy them well enough but Steve planned on getting him fancier playthings and some catnip. He rolled the ball across the floor and the kitten chased after it. He pounced on it, wobbly, which sent the ball rolling again for another chase. Steve laughed. Robin giggled along with him.

“He’s lucky he’s adorable. Otherwise we’d be having problems, him and I,” Robin said with a grin. Her mischievous demeanor softened slightly. “I’m glad you found him, you big old softie. Now you can stop moping so much.”

Steve ducked away when she reached to ruffle his hair. 

“Yeah, yeah,” Steve said, lightheartedly. “Maybe if I do a good job with him, someone will finally let me have a kid.” 

The kitten had apparently gotten bored of the ball and was attempting to climb up the back of the couch. Steve quickly grabbed him so he would damage the upholstery. He booped the kitten’s nose.

“What do you think, baby? Will I be a good dad? Be honest.”

Dustin grabbed his finger and gnawed at it while making the most precious sounds. A purring mew.  Steve’s heart melted; though from what he had read, he really shouldn’t let Dustin get accustomed to using his hands as playthings.

Steve resigned himself to losing half his paycheck to cat toys.

Continue on Ao3

ps: i do not do reader tag lists or whatever those things are called. i tag all my writing with 'trensu tells stories' so please just follow that tag if you wanna keep up with my stuff, thank you

[widowshill]

65 / 62 / 71

[musicalchaos07]

Stranger Things - Endless Summer AU Moodboard

Jonathan knows next to nothing about surfing, beach culture, or California but when his college roommate Argyle asked if he wanted to work at his family's surf shop. Well, Jonathan figured there were worse ways to spend his summer than on the beach with his best friend. Now he's spending his days smoking, selling boards, snapping photos, swapping tourist horror stories with the ice cream parlor employees next door, and trying not to have a summer romance with the cute reporter renting out Argyle's spare bedroom.

[ereborne]

Song of the Day: February 17

“DYWTYLM” by Sleep Token

[bosquedemel]

to me there's nothing scarier than having to talk with, meet or spend time with a distant relative or even people who aren't even my relatives but are relatives of my relatives (like my dad's cousin from his other side of the family or whatever). it's literally people i've only maybe seen once or twice in person and not in the past 10-15 years (even in the case of my dad's siblings because they live far away and don't even get along). its just 2 much for my introverted self

[aftermathing]

I want to kill myself so fucking badly. I want to stop existing in constant torment and isolation and disappear whatever way is most convenient for me. I want to die through any method I possibly can. But then I think about elderly trans people.