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#it came up so i guess they do

trensu · 9 months

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Steve had always wanted to be a skilled fighter. The schools that churned out the best fighters all happened to be schools for holy warriors. It was possible that Steve maybe sort of lied a little (with the help of his friends Robin and Dustin) to get into this school by claiming he was full to the brim of religious fervor but hadn’t decided who to pledge his sword to yet. It shouldn’t have worked, if he were honest with himself, but by some stroke of luck it did, and he finished his training as one of the top combatants.

The issue now was that he had to pick a god whose crest to carry. There were all sorts of gods. Gods of water, gods of air, gods of agriculture, war gods, cat gods, plant gods...the list was endless. And while Steve was one of the best fighters around, he was most definitely not one of the best researchers. Thankfully Dustin and Robin were very clever and knew where to find details about the many gods in existence.

“So what kind of god do you want to follow? Maybe we can start there,” Robin asked.

“Uh…a good one?”

“You’re no help at all, you know that?” Dustin grumbled.

They suggested a local god known as Carver who stood for righteousness, but Steve turned that down. It didn't feel like a good fit. They suggested a love god by the name of Chrissy, who valued love of all kinds, romantic, platonic, familial...Steve had been tempted, very tempted, because Steve had always carried an excess of love in his heart. Robin had vetoed that one stating that Steve was already too reckless with his love and she wouldn't stand by and watch him break his own heart over and over again.

Dustin suggested a god of knowledge, Clarke, who blessed and guided those with curiosity, imagination, and a knack for invention. Steve shot that one down immediately. He was never one to be overly imaginative or curious; he preferred to deal with concrete things. Out of their quickly dwindling list, Robin reluctantly suggested Hargrove, a war god favored by a nearby kingdom, but if Carver was ill-fitting, then Hargrove was outright repellent to Steve.

"C'mon, Steve, you gotta pick someone!" Dustin huffed in frustration.

Robin thunked her head against the table in the library where they were looking up deities. She was obviously at her wit's end too. Steve, however, just dug his heels in with a particularly stubborn scowl.

"I can't just pick anyone!" Steve said. "If I'm going to pledge my sword to someone, it has to be someone...someone good. Someone that, I don't know, someone I can believe in, even when--no especially when things go wrong. That’s the whole point!"

"Yeah, I get that," Robin sighed, a mix of fond and annoyed, "but this is the eighth book we've gone through and the only one left here is called the King of Darkness which is hardly going to--huh."

Robin paused mid-rant to look at the page more closely. Steve and Dustin both huddled around her to peek into the book as well. Dustin also made a sound of curiosity.

"That's weird," Dustin said.

"Right?" Robin asked enthusiastically.

"What? What's weird?" Steve didn't get what caught their attention.

"This god only has a couple of sentences," Dustin explained, "And they don't really make sense. Something about dark creatures and the undeserving? The grammar and structure is all weird though."

"It looks like a half-assed translation," Robin added with a nod. "We should find the original text."

"Yeah! And if we can make a better translation, we could get it added to the next edition and they'd have to put our names on the book," Dustin said excitedly. Robin's eyes lit up at the thought and they both rushed off to the stacks to track down any original sources.

"Guys! Guys, what about my..."

The librarian hushed Steve, irritated. Steve groaned in defeat.

"...godly choices. Yeah, fine," Steve slumped back on his seat. "I need to find non-nerd friends."

Two days later, Robin and Dustin finished translating a slim, dusty book. They were nearly vibrating in their seats as Steve reviewed their notes on what they found. Dustin gripped his arm and gave him a shake.

"So? What do you think?" he asked excitedly.

Robin slung her arm across Steve's shoulders. With more tenderness than Steve expected, she said, "I know it doesn't seem like it, he doesn't really fit with your whole style, but it could work."

"Yeah," Steve said with a hopeful smile. "Yeah, this feels right."

It took longer than Steve would've liked, but eventually he managed to track down a small, crumbling shrine. It was an alcove carved near the entrance--no more than a crack in the stone really--of a cave at the edge of a lush forest. He almost missed it, it was so drowned in overgrown crawling vines and weeds. It bore a modest statue, no bigger than Steve, standing atop an equally modest plinth. There was a spot that obviously held a plaque once, but it must’ve been dug out by thieves at some point.

The sight of it made something in Steve's chest twinge; a strange pang of melancholy at seeing a god so forgotten and abandoned. It surprised him as he had never been particularly religious, but there was just something about this one that drew him in.

It was the middle of the day, so Steve quickly made camp and took advantage of the light to begin clearing the shrine. He started where the plaque had been, scrubbing off the dirt and moss that had filled the indentation. He knew a good smith; he could commission a new plaque to be made. After that, he weeded the immediate area around the plinth where worshipers would typically lay their offerings and pray.

By the time he finished that, it was late afternoon and he decided that was good enough for today. He had to eat and get a few hours of sleep so he could be alert once night fell. When he curled up on his bedroll, he couldn't help the grin that spread on his face. He was going to offer himself to his god tonight, and with any luck, his god would accept him.

He woke to a multitude of high pitched squeaks and the sound of many, many flapping wings. The sun had just fully set, and the stars that could be seen through the canopy burned brightly. Steve took his time to fasten on his armor and scabbard properly, and fixed his hair so not a strand was out of place. He took a few deep breaths to calm an unexpected bout of nerves before going to the shrine and kneeling.

His god had no official prayers. Or rather, the prayers for his god were forgotten. Robin and Dustin did their best to find anything prayer-like but it had been in vain. They suspected that most of the god's holy items and lore were purposely lost. Lacking that, Steve decided it was best that he introduce himself.

"Um, hi," he started and immediately winced. "Sorry. I'm not used to...this. I couldn't find any of your…holy words? Prayers? The right ways to speak to you, I guess.

"I'm Steve. Steve Harrington. I'm a fighter. I finished my training a few weeks back. I was the top of my cohort when it came to combat. I'm good with my sword and I know how to take a hit. I can turn just about anything into a weapon if it's needed."

Here Steve paused for a moment, straining to hear but there was nothing other than the typical sounds of a night out in the woods. Steve took a breath and plowed forward.

"I want to be more than a fighter, though. I don't want to just wave a sword around for nothing. I want it to...to matter. So I spent a lot of time trying to decide who to wield my sword for. It took me a while, but I found you. I want to be your shield and sword, if you'll have me."

Steve stopped again to listen. Nothing. Robin warned him this might happen. Gods didn't always accept warriors who offered themselves to them, and forgotten gods weren't always reachable. It was fine, though; he’d try again tomorrow night. Steve turned in just before dawn, eager for night again.

Steve worked on clearing the vines tangled around the statue's legs and feet. He yanked out the thick, scraggly vines, and carefully picked apart the prickling thorny ones. There was a particular gnarl of vines that didn't seem like they had a stranglehold on his god's statue. They were healthy and strong, and the way they curled and grew looked more like a caress than an invasion. He decided to leave those on, though he gently rearranged them while removing the more invasive vines so they looked more decorative.

When night arrived with the sound of squeaks and wings, Steve went to kneel at the shrine. He introduced himself again, gave the same spiel as the night before. Still he heard nothing. He scratched the back of his neck in mild insecurity.

“I guess I should tell you I didn’t find you on my own. My friends Robin and Dustin helped me. They’re way smarter than me, you know? Total nerds. I can swing a sword like nothing, but books and research? Yeah, that never works out for me, so they helped me look up all sorts of gods.

“There’s a lot of them. Way more than I thought. Dustin and Robin both recommended me ones or vetoed others. They were getting frustrated with me because I kept rejecting the ones they gave me.

“Then Robin found you. Kind of by accident, to be honest. But she did her research thing and I knew that I wanted to carry your symbol. It took me forever to find this shrine. Robin said this was probably the only shrine you had left, so I had to find it.

“Dustin kept saying it was on the other side of the forest, but obviously he was wrong. Not that he’ll ever admit it, the little shit, but whatever. I’m sorry your shrine was abandoned like this, but I promise I’ll fix it up. I’m good with my hands, I can do it.”

There was no response to his admittedly disorganized ramble. It was fine, he told himself. He needed to be patient. He’d come back the next night.

–

Around the statue’s waist there was another tangled mess of vines, except these vines had died and rotted to dark sludge. There was fungus growing on it, and it reeked. It was gross. Steve scrubbed at it for hours because the rot had stained the stone. He was able to get rid of the rot and most of the stains before going to catch a few hours of sleep in the afternoon.

Night fell and Steve was kneeling for the third time. He repeated most of what he said the previous two nights. There was still no response. He thought maybe he was pushing too hard. He’d never been the super talkative type anyway. He could share the quiet night with his god, if that was what his god wanted.

A few hours passed when he was startled out of his near meditative state by the sound of snapping twigs. He leapt to his feet, hand on his scabbard. Someone–a man by the look of it–stumbled out of the woods. He was pale and dark haired, dressed in ragged clothes that were probably awful even when they were new. He looked like a vagabond.

Steve stepped in front of the shrine, protectively. The stranger grinned at him and Steve could already tell he was not going to enjoy the conversation that was about to happen.

“Who are you and what are you doing here?” Steve asked firmly, cutting the man off before he could speak. The smile only grew wider.

“I could ask you the same thing, sir,” the man said, adopting the annoyed huff of a wealthy lord. Steve scowled.

“I asked first.”

“I asked second!”

“You didn’t ask me anything,” Steve responded, somewhat smug. The man paused and then snorted a laugh.

“Yeah, okay.” He raised his hands in mock surrender. “You got me.”

“So?”

“So what?”

“What are you doing here? Who are you?” Steve repeated shortly. The teasing grin was back, and Steve felt his scowl deepen.

“Nothing and no one, m’lord,” the man bows mockingly.

“I’m not a lord.”

“Huh. Could’ve fooled me. You’re certainly as demanding as any lord I’ve ever met.”

“Oh fuck you,” Steve snapped. “I’m a holy warrior.”

The man laughed at him outright.

“Well that doesn’t sound very holy warrior-ish. Are your type allowed to swear?”

Steve grinded his teeth and decided it was not worth it to continue this conversation for much longer.

“Look, if you’re here to steal, I’ve got nothing on me.”

“That’s exactly what someone with something to steal would say.”

“Well, I don’t! I’m on a pilgrimage and I don’t want to spill blood on holy ground. So.” Steve wrapped a hand around the hilt of his sword. “Leave. Please.”

“Holy ground? Here?” the man barks out a laugh. “Don’t you know what this place is?”

“Yes,” Steve says shortly, placing himself more firmly between the shrine and the man. “Please leave. There shouldn’t be violence done here.”

“Oh, it’s far too late for that. This place used to belong to the King of Darkness. It’s said he was so evil that nothing grew here until he was run out and defeated by the god of righteousness. You know the one. Really plays up the holier than thou thing by making his hair all gold and glowy? Gotta say, you could give him a run for his money though.”

“You’re wrong.”

“No really! Your hair is great. Way better than Carver, even with the glowy thing.”

“Not that!” Steve said in frustration. This guy really liked the sound of his own voice and Steve was starting to get a headache. It was near dawn and all he wanted was to spend the last hour or so in the quiet night with his god.

“So you agree your hair is better than a god’s?” The man tsks at him. “That’s pretty blasphemous. Are you sure you’re a holy warrior?”

“No! I mean, yes. Wait,” Steve growls at his own bumbling. “No, I’m not better than any god. But I am a holy warrior. Kind of.”

“Kind of.”

“Look, I’m working on it so I need you to leave. You’ve insulted him enough already.”

“Your god is the King of Dark–”

“Call him that again, and I will draw my sword,” Steve said, voice steely. “He’s the Lord of Night, and I won’t let you insult him at his own shrine.”

The man goes quiet for the first time since he showed up. He looked almost surprised, his mocking grin gone. His eyes flicked over to the dilapidated statue and then back at Steve.

“Lord of Night doesn’t sound much different than what I called him,” the man said lightly.

“Well, it is,” Steve told him. “Now, will you please leave?”

The man stared at him for a moment before shrugging. “Yeah, alright.” And then he left as suddenly as he had arrived.

The tension that had built up in Steve’s shoulders drained away. He went back to kneel in front of the shrine again when he noticed the barest hint of sunrise on the horizon. He cursed under his breath then was hit with a wave of embarrassment at cursing in front of the shrine and the whole situation that had transpired.

“I’m sorry about that,” Steve said, abashed. “It won’t happen again, I promise.”

–

It happened again.

now with an additional snippet here and here

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

#trensu tells stories #stranger things #steddie #steve harrington #robin buckley #dustin henderson #eddie munson #i don't even know what to call this #it's an idea i'm playing with but i don't know how well it works #if you're curious about the setting so am i!#if you figure it out do me a favor and tell me what it is #i have more written but it's not done #i'm hoping to post it as a oneshot on ao3 when i finish it #IF i finish it #we'll see i guess #ETA #came up with a title/tag for this #stasis in darkness

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linddzz · 2 months

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Luckily the "what if the SHARK impregnated our ray???" seems to be dying down and bigger news organizations have the corrected information in their articles, but I wanted to share this great blog post by marine conservation biologist David Shiffman that covers both the cool actual science that got overshadowed while actually calling out the facility for how unscientifically they handled it and for the fact that they doubled down (esp since newer media they've put out is softly backtracking and it looks like they're attempting to play it off as a joke that the news misreported. Nope. They put the idea out there like it was as possible as parthenogenesis while calling themselves scientists at a "shark lab")

From the conclusion:

Unfortunately, poor handling of this story has made it likely that we are on track for another year where the most-shared news story about a shark or ray is pseudoscientific nonsense, rather than about their dire conservation needs, their importance to marine and coastal ecosystems, or amazing new discoveries about them. As a longtime supporter of zoos and aquariums and the roles they play in public science education, I am especially troubled by some of the public-facing communications here. If your goal is sharing knowledge with the public, there’s value in gaining accurate knowledge about the subject yourself first. Sharing wrong facts is not “raising awareness” or educating the public, and falsely claiming “anything is possible, don’t trust the experts” is, to put it mildly, not helping the ocean.

It's a great article to drop in if the "omg shark/ray babies???" keeps spreading. Or if you just enjoy niche science drama. The aquarium world doesn't get much of that

#to call them out even harder than the article does: it wasnt a random staff at the facility it was the founder/ceo/curator who owns it #which im fine saying bc she kept signing her full ass name to every statement #and to her double down post thats linked in the article #marine biology #marine life #science education #idk i care a lot about a place calling itself a science center being so fucking bad at it #i guess the aquarium world doesnt need to deal with 'roadside zoo' level nonsense #so now that something like it came up people doing the YOURE NOT AFFILIATED WITH ME

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palettesofrenaissance · 18 days

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𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠: 𝐬𝐦𝐮𝐭 (𝐈'𝐦 𝐭𝐫𝐲𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐨 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐡𝐨𝐥𝐝 𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐰𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚𝐧𝐲𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐞)

"On your knees."

His taunting grin falters, lessens, a flicker of realization crosses his face seeing that she's serious. He squeezes the edge of his desk he's leaned against behind him, clears his throat and raises his chin in defiance.

His pants are still open—from when he'd instructed for them to be undone when she'd already been pulling his dick out; and from when she'd squeezed him hard, causing him to shudder before beginning to pant as she worked him in an unforgivingly tight grip. He had to bite his lip and bite his words as she took over, completely ignoring his previous air of dominace and pumping him like a torturous punishment.

Between his choked breathes then, he knew that she knew he liked it.

Now, his dick bobs after her command; dark curls rest at its base, leading to the little trail up to his naval.

She glares. He swallows, a momentary struggle of fighting for dominance or giving in plays across his face before he nods once and submits, lowering to his knees before her.

From this angle, his heart speeds up and he resists the urge to reach for her. Instead, he softly glares at her as if annoyed.

She runs a hand through his hair. "Good boy," she praises—she teases—and is surprised to spot the glimmer of a plea beside the bewilderment in his eyes and spots his dick jumping at that: He likes this.

Slowly, her hand slides down to craddle his cheek at the same time a knee raises to his shoulder. Wide eyes that boarderline confusion and excitement glance from her thigh to her face.

"I want you to please me."

A shuddery exhales leaves him. His dick jumps again, and stiffens further. With only a half-hearted glare, he adjusts her leg as she balances with a hand on the desk beside them and he pulls up her skirt and pulls aside the bridge of her panties. She isn't wearing pantyhose tonight.

He's trembling the slightest bit as he watches her moisture create a thin line connecting the panties to her warm lips. The panties are slid down her luscious legs to the floor in front of him where she steps out of only one hole. His breaths, hot and shallow and rapid, hit her thigh he does an impatient and quite improper attempt to skim kisses up her thigh.

He burries his face inside her greedily, with groans to match and a tight hold on her ass to keep her there. Her free hand dives into his hair near instantly, her grip tightening as he eats her out selfishly, sloppily, mouth wide and tongue darting, licking, lapping at anything and everything that's her.

Gone is that previous, smug, dominant hat he wore and is instead indulging in a role previously much submerged and hidden.

While pleasing her, his nose presses against her swollen clit and she cries out suddenly, making her grip painfully tight on his hair but he only groans gutterly and pulls her impossibly closer by her ass. Unabashed, he moans against her, the vibrations causing her breath to catch and for her to keen.

There's going to be sore, finger-shaped bruises by the early morning, she knows. He bumps her clit again with his nose, realizes, then does it again purposely, shaking his head for good measure, wanting to pull all types of noises from her—noises he's never heard her make before, noises he hopes she's never made for anyone else. She sounds wonderful, like music and fueling his own lust.

When she's bitten her bottom lip and is humming comfortably, he breaks apart only for a moment to insert a finger into his mouth, wetting it, before sliding the long digit inside her gripping cunt. The instinctual flutter of muscles and the high-pitched gasp of pleasure she elicits fuels his ego and his decision to insert a second finger. And then a third.

He groans about her tightness and ease due to her wetness.

She's whimpering now—a sound he's always imagined to hear from her—and had a death grip on the desk in an attempt to control herself and not aggressively hump his face to orgasm. She's stubborn and doesn't allow herself the self-fullfilling like that often; he notices she's holding back so, while still tapping against her sensitive spot within her gripping, slippery pussy, he rapidly flicks his tongue across her clit, trying to get her there anyway. Harshly presses his tongue against her clit. Sucks it while gazing up at her, almost daring her.

He longs to touch himself, to squeeze his cock and pump out the load that's nearing the brim just from her and this alone, but he doesn't. Instead, his cock stands between his legs, leaking shamefully, suffering, and almost harder than he can stand. Her hand in his hair maneuvers his head to pull back. He flicks his tongue at her clit, laps at her labia, then pushes against her hand to return sucking her off. Every now and then he humps the air pitifully.

High-pitched and lust-filled, she sighs, "Yes! Just like—oh, god! More! Keep on... More!"

Of course, he obeys.

She still stiffles her noises by biting her lip, by pressing her palm to her mouth, by throwing her head back and swallowing her own moans, turning them into breathless sighs and whines.

He laps and flicks and sucks while her hand pulls at his hair unforgivingly—

He longs to have her hands wrapped around his throat, squeezing just as tightly—

His eyes flutter at the pain that mixes with his pleasure. His cock is painfully hard, his one hand is soaked in her juices, his other is sunken into plush of her ass, gripping like it's a lifeline. All he can hear and all he can feel and think of and smell is her, her, her.

But just as he's getting completely lost, just as he's thrusting his hips into the air in a pathetic chase for relief, she pulls away. His mouth is forced to disconnect, creating a loud suction. And he's panting—they both are—and he's glistening from his spit and her slick from his nose down his chin, and he looks disheveled overall, with a dazed glaze to his eyes and his chest rising and falling rapidly.

"Please," he begs, which she never thought he'd do; it both surprises her and pleases her.

His shirt is rumpled, his hair in disarray, and his pants are still undone. A puddle of precum rests on the floor beneath his exposed, achingly hard cock, the proof of his pent-up frustrations.

Running on autopilot now, his hips thrust into the air once more before a hand of his begins working his cock urgently.

Reaching out for her with his other hand, he repeats, desperate, "Please."

But she backs away out of reach and his hand falls pathetically, him still in that submissive haze.

After wiping her mouth, adjusting her panties, skirt, and outfit, she breaths weakly, "That's it."

He's confused. And so close.

"That was..." She clears her throat, forcing her composure despite her body prickling with arousal heat and her pussy screaming for her to stay. "I'm leaving. I have to go. Have a... Goo—good night."

On unsteady legs and in uncomfortable wetness, she leaves him—still on the floor, still staring after her.

- - - -

it is 6am -_-

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fromtheseventhhell · 14 days

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"It's normal for siblings to fight" Okay well it's not normal to be extremely classist and look down on your sister for being non-conforming. Or to go to the woman who ordered the death of your pet to tell her about your father's plans, when he specifically warned you against doing so, because you want to marry the boy you saw attack your sister and her friend (contributing partially to said father's death and your sister being unable to escape on the ship he chartered). Or to think of your sibling as unsatisfactory in comparison to another when you believe her to be dead. I notice that none of the "Sansa and Arya are going to reunite and instantly have no issues" crowd ever acknowledge any of this, which makes it seem like they don't actually believe what they say about their relationship being normal and easily reconciled. People wanting them to have no issues simply because they're siblings is another example of how fandom likes to flatten complex characters and relationships. They get reduced to being bickering siblings when their conflict runs deeper than that. If the author is telling you that they have "deep issues" to work out [X], I don't understand being so adamant about ignoring said issues. I also get the sense it's about ignoring the capacity for a certain character to be flawed, but that isn't going to change the fact that her "slip of the tongue" is very likely to be revealed and a source of further conflict 🤷🏾‍♀️

#arya stark #sansa stark #house stark #asoiaf #also if it's so normal for siblings to fight then why are you guys losing your minds over us theorizing they won't get along??#the amount of condescending /that's just how siblings act/ takes I see 🙄#sorry I guess? that we read the book and don't just delete parts of the story because we find it convenient?#it's not even like takes about them being enemies is widespread the most I see is that they aren't instantly bffs when they reunite 😭#some people theorize they'll never be close but guess what? that's a completely fair and valid assumption based on their relationship!#personally I think they'll have a sweet reunion before the issues they have inevitably surface again because while they've been through #a lot they haven't fundamentally changed as people or the values they hold #and I think that's going to be very interesting to read about!#I can't figure out why people always take the most boring bland route for how things will play out #mostly because people seem to be unable to swallow the concept that Sansa is a flawed character who isn't perfectly sweet all the time #and the fact that their conflict is instigated by Sansa's classism #which is funny cause in the grand scheme of things her being mean to Arya is such a mild thing that opens the door to a ton of growth #never seen anybody but stansas equating her being a bully to her sister to her being evil/a villain #all we do is point out that it exists in the story...people in this fandom have no concept of nuance I stg 😭#anyways they're both complex characters and their conflict is interesting and I hope we get to see how it plays out #cause it's definitely going to be better then that trash d&d came up with 🙏🏾

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soranker · 5 months

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hi….! any chance we can see your art process ? it’s fine if not! i was wondering if u do a sketch before your lines or you just skip directly to lineart? your art is very beautiful!

HI!!! AUGGHHHJHH THANK YOU SOOOO MUCH T__T my art style is kinda simple imo so my process is pretty bare-bones ^^;; there's not rly much too it!! it also kinda changes depending on how uhhhh lazy im feeling in the moment HAHA

probably around half of my drawings are straight to line art bc they're rly just doodles or things i decide to draw without any planning (but also im kinda impatient so i try to skip the sketching step if i can LOL...). but if i DO have a specific pose in mind for a drawing, i'll start with a sort of mannequin sketch or loose pass, then depending on how messy it is, ill either do the lineart pass on the layer on top or duplicate the sketch and then clean it up.

and then my coloring process is not sophisticated at all i just create a new layer and then paint bucket tool away LMAOOOO

here's an example of a drawing where i did sketch first ^_^