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#how would i go without you
sunnibits · 2 months
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just out of curiosity bc some people I know with glasses can just go a few hours or a day without them and be chill but I need them on all the time or I’ll go crazy
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This will be the first scene of FNAF 2 movie…
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uncanny-tranny · 7 months
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The leftism/anticapitalism leaving people's bodies the zeptosecond you imply that disabled people who aren't "productive" still matter in society and need to be treated like intrinsic equals who have a place in this world:
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theoldkyokodied · 1 year
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One wedding and three funerals
Background paintings under the cut
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#tomgreg#succession#tom wambsgans#greg hirsch#shiv roy#roman roy#kendall roy#yeah no im not tagging everyone thats too much#this is me going 'how much implications themes and symbolism can i fit in one painting'#yes i gave rose shivs haircolor. if we ever find out how she looks like and its not like this im just gonna pass away i guess#but yeah i hope yall connect the dots#i put waaay too much thought and work into this. i was googling pictures of all the actors as kids just for reference (sigh)#honestly kinda wanted to make tom and greg link pinkies as like. a pinkie promise. but that was too hard to draw in this angle#at least not without obstructing the view of the ring which is important to see so ya#my fave is actually the tomshiv wedding pic i went off with that. i love them... they should have run away to become sheep farmers fr fr#anyway im so glad im done with this UGH!! finally i can draw smth else without being like oh noooo i need to finish this#i see a lot of you wondering why there is no portrait of logan but one of ewan#it's bc the placement of the painting represent their standing. logans portray would not hang next to the stairs#his present portrait hangs at the end of it. all the way up at the top. alone and withering away#basically the picture you see underneath ewan to the right? its where toms parents would be. the right side of the wall is tom and gregs#and the left one is the roy siblings theirs. since they grew up rich rich. and tom and greg didn't#but ya thats why ewan hangs here and logan does not :)
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2.12 Chimney Begins - 2.09 Hen Begins - 2.16 Bobby Begins Again - 7.04 Buck, Bothered and Bewildered
Tommy's family arc
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thedreadvampy · 1 year
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Losing my shit about this article in which a transphobic Tory was so busy panicking about existing in the vicinity of a Trans that she almost certainly misheard "jeans" as "penis" and decided that not only was this a problem with the other woman, but also that the world must be informed of this pressing danger.
"a trans woman! I had to stand directly behind her....I thought, 'this is going well', I'm handling The Situation fine'..."
translated: I saw a tall woman with broad shoulders. How would I get out of this alive? I thought. she has a PENIS. PENIS PENIS PENIS. through some force of PENIS I mean will I managed to PENIS behave normally towards her. My hands were PENIS PENIS PENIS shaking as I tried to dry them. summoning up all my PENIS courage I said 'dryer's crap innit'. she turned to me and said " yeah I'm just goiPENIS PENIS PENIS"
It's been a week and I'm still shaking. This proves trans women are the problem and I'm not weird. I'm fine. It's fine. If you think about it I'm the hero hePENIS!!!!!
very this
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#red said#it's just. I'm obsessed.#everyone on Twitter is saying 'never happened' and i think they're wrong#this absolutely did happen and she's been obsessing over how vindicated it made her feel enough to WRITE AN ARTICLE ABOUT IT#because she MISHEARD SOMEONE IN A CASUAL CONVERSATION#i lay out my reasoning thusly: if you were INVENTING a scary trans woman in bathroom story out of nothing. why would it be this?#why would you go with 'we had a banal conversation until she said a sentence that makes no sense and that no human has ever uttered#but which does coincidentally sounds almost exactly like a mishearing of a very NORMAL thing to say in the circumstances#then she left and nothing else occurred'#if you were going to INVENT a story you would probably make it MAKE SENSE or SOUND THREATENING#i truly believe this is a very authentically told account of what she thinks happened#because who would. by means other than mishearing. think 'I'm going to wipe my hands on my penis' makes any sense at all.#a) 'I'm going to dry my hands on my genitals' says the presumably fully clothed woman#b) who then proceeds to leave without doing anything threatening#c) WHO SAYS PENIS THREATENINGLY? sorry it's writing out 'penis' repeatedly that made this jump out to me but like. who says that?#you might hear someone talk casually about their dick or cock but i stg it's only doctors and TERFs who casually use the word penis much#it's so. clinically descriptive. it's a weird use of language. but it IS. something you could plausibly mishear from 'pants' or 'trousers'
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poorly-drawn-mdzs · 22 days
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Don't Wormy About Me.
[First] Prev <–-> Next
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killjoy-prince · 1 month
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House M.D. but it's when House says Wilson's name
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kaladinkholins · 2 months
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Very interesting to me that a certain subset of the BES fandom's favourite iterations of Mizu and Akemi are seemingly rooted in the facades they have projected towards the world, and are not accurate representations of their true selves.
And I see this is especially the case with Mizu, where fanon likes to paint her as this dominant, hyper-masculine, smirking Cool GuyTM who's going to give you her strap. And this idea of Mizu is often based on the image of her wearing her glasses, and optionally, with her cloak and big, wide-brimmed kasa.
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And what's interesting about this, to me, is that fanon is seemingly falling for her deliberate disguise. Because the glasses (with the optional combination of cloak and hat) represent Mizu's suppression of her true self. She is playing a role.
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Take this scene of Mizu in the brothel in Episode 4 for example. Here, not only is Mizu wearing her glasses to symbolise the mask she is wearing, but she is purposely acting like some suave and cocky gentleman, intimidating, calm, in control. Her voice is even deeper than usual, like what we hear in her first scene while facing off with Hachiman the Flesh-Trader in Episode 1.
This act that Mizu puts on is an embodiment of masculine showboating, which is highly effective against weak and insecure men like Hachi, but also against women like those who tried to seduce her at the Shindo House.
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And that brings me to how Mizu's mask is actually a direct parallel to Akemi's mask in this very same scene.
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Here, Akemi is also putting up an act, playing up her naivety and demure girlishness, using her high-pitched lilted voice, complimenting Mizu and trying to make small talk, all so she can seduce and lure Mizu in to drink the drugged cup of sake.
So what I find so interesting and funny about this scene, characters within it, and the subsequent fandom interpretations of both, is that everyone seems to literally be falling for the mask that Mizu and Akemi are putting up to conceal their identities, guard themselves from the world, and get what they want.
It's also a little frustrating because the fanon seems to twist what actually makes Mizu and Akemi's dynamic so interesting by flattening it completely. Because both here and throughout the story, Mizu and Akemi's entire relationship and treatment of each other is solely built off of masks, assumptions, and misconceptions.
Akemi believes Mizu is a selfish, cocky male samurai who destroyed her ex-fiance's career and life, and who abandoned her to let her get dragged away by her father's guards and forcibly married off to a man she didn't know. on the other hand, Mizu believes Akemi is bratty, naive princess who constantly needs saving and who can't make her own decisions.
These misconceptions are even evident in the framing of their first impressions of each other, both of which unfold in these slow-motion POV shots.
Mizu's first impression of Akemi is that of a beautiful, untouchable princess in a cage. Swirling string music in the background.
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Akemi's first impression of Mizu is of a mysterious, stoic "demon" samurai who stole her fiance's scarf. Tense music and the sound of ocean waves in the background.
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And then, going back to that scene of them together in Episode 4, both Mizu and Akemi continue to fool each other and hold these assumptions of each other, and they both feed into it, as both are purposely acting within the suppressive roles society binds them to in order to achieve their goals within the means they are allowed (Akemi playing the part of a subservient woman; Mizu playing the part of a dominant man).
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But then, for once in both their lives, neither of their usual tactics work.
Akemi is trying to use flattery and seduction on Mizu, but Mizu sees right through it, knowing that Akemi is just trying to manipulate and harm her. Rather than give in to Akemi's tactics, Mizu plays with Akemi's emotions by alluding to Taigen's death, before pinning her down, and then when she starts crying, Mizu just rolls her eyes and tells her to shut up.
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On the opposite end, when Mizu tries to use brute force and intimidation, Akemi also sees right through it, not falling for it, and instead says this:
"Under your mask, you're not the killer you pretend to be."
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Nonetheless, despite the fact that they see a little bit through each other's masks, they both still hold their presumptions of each other until the very end of the season, with Akemi seeing Mizu as an obnoxious samurai swooping in to save the day, and Mizu seeing Akemi as a damsel in distress.
And what I find a bit irksome is that the fandom also resorts to flattening them to these tropes as well.
Because Mizu is not some cool, smooth-talking samurai with a big dick sword as Akemi (and the fandom) might believe. All of that is the facade she puts up and nothing more. In reality, Mizu is an angry, confused and lonely child, and a masterful artist, who is struggling against her own self-hatred. Master Eiji, her father figure who knows her best, knows this.
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And Akemi, on the other hand, is not some girly, sweet, vain and spoiled princess as Mizu might believe. Instead she has never cared for frivolous things like fashion, love or looks, instead favouring poetry and strategy games instead, and has always only cared about her own independence. Seki, her father figure who knows her best, knows this.
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But neither is she some authoritative dominatrix, though this is part of her new persona that she is trying to project to get what she wants. Because while Akemi is willful, outspoken, intelligent and authoritative, she can still be naive! She is still often unsure and needs to have her hand held through things, as she is still learning and growing into her full potential. Her new parental/guardian figure, Madame Kaji, knows this as well.
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So with all that being said, now that we know that Mizu and Akemi are essentially wearing masks and putting up fronts throughout the show, what would a representation of Mizu's and Akemi's true selves actually look like? Easy. It's in their hair.
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This shot on the left is the only time we see Mizu with her hair completely down. In this scene, she's being berated by Mama, and her guard is completely down, she has no weapon, and is no longer wearing any mask, as this is after she showed Mikio "all of herself" and tried to take off the mask of a subservient housewife. Thus, here, she is sad, vulnerable, and feeling small (emphasised further by the framing of the scene). This is a perfect encapsulation of what Mizu is on the inside, underneath all the layers of revenge-obsession and the walls she's put around herself.
In contrast, the only time we Akemi with her hair fully down, she is completely alone in the bath, and this scene takes place after being scorned by her father and left weeping at his feet. But despite all that, Akemi is headstrong, determined, taking the reigns of her life as she makes the choice to run away, but even that choice is reflective of her youthful naivety. She even gets scolded by Seki shortly after this in the next scene, because though she wants to be independent, she still hasn't completely learned to be. Not yet. Regardless, her decisiveness and moment of self-empowerment is emphasised by the framing of the scene, where her face takes up the majority of the shot, and she stares seriously into the middle distance.
To conclude, I wish popular fanon would stop mischaracterising these two, and flattening them into tropes and stereotypes (ie. masculine badass swordsman Mizu and feminine alluring queen but also girly swooning damsel Akemi), all of which just seems... reductive. It also irks me when Akemi is merely upheld as a love interest and romantic device for Mizu and nothing more, when she is literally Mizu's narrative foil (takes far more narrative precedence over romantic interest) and the deuteragonist of this show. She is her own person. That is literally the theme of her entire character and arc.
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babydarkstar · 4 months
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i just. i just…FUCK. i just really want harrowhark to go sicko mode when she realizes john has the power to resurrect whoever he wants he just chooses not to and even after learning about his own blood daughter he still doesn’t resurrect her he just makes her a construct. i would be alecto-levels of grief-stricken-enraged if my childhood nemesis/guard dog/whipping girl/codependent lesbian situationship that i lobotomized over/suicide-pact soulmate/only friend was suddenly here but not here haunting her own dead body and the only reason she’s present is because she was made into a fascist killing machine for a man with a power kink, and she’s not even happy about it but she’s going through the motions because all she knows of love is to be useful. (forever your sword.) and if i was harrow and i died and then came back to myself after switching bodies with the human cage holding the earth’s soul and realized all of this, i think i too would be accompanying the earth’s soul on her shoulder to go kill a man with eclipse-eyes and criminal levels of nonchalance. y’know. the one who guarded g1deon but not me, lord. the one who was so sure i had never seen that which lies insensate and with stilled mind, lord, who did not realize i was a lock and there was a key in the shape of a girl, lord. the one who looked me dead in the eye and told me i could never have my cavalier back, lord. the cavalier who came back haunted and empty and incomplete by your hand, lord.
i’m so team ‘harrowhark saves gideon for real this time not because she wants her cav but because she wants her other half’ i might lose my mind about it
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lunar-years · 1 year
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Ed Sheeran: here is my latest album in which I write about losing my best friend young, learning my wife has cancer while she’s pregnant with our second child, and being actively suicidal. I’ll be releasing it right after I wrap up this court case where I’m having to defend my integrity as a songwriter and artist and everything I’ve built my life and career on. also I had to miss my grandmother’s funeral back home so I could be present at the mandatory court proceedings.
Twitter.com all week: haha I hope Ed Sheeran loses in court so he’ll stop releasing bad music and give retail workers peace! What album is he releasing next, “Quadratic Equation”? Hahaha! Such an original joke no one has ever heard before :) I’m soooo funny!! :)
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factual-fantasy · 1 month
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Man, these past few weeks have been veeeery hard on me.. I haven't posted a whole lot, haven't really drawn much, haven't really moved much.. I didn't expect much interaction or growth to come from my my blog for a while..
So Imagine my surprise when I woke up to 23k followers?? :000 Ya'll never fail to surprise me and make me smile!! :}}💖💖💖
Now unfortunately I have added a cold(??) to all my other ✨issues✨ that I'm currently battling. Sooo this celebration post isn't super polished <XD I mostly just wanted to draw it real quick and then go lay back down💀-- but I think its more than good enough!
So thank ya'll so much for 23,000 followers! :DD I hope to finally get though this trail and get back to posting regularly soon! :}} 💖💖
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intotheelliwoods · 5 months
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Pre-orders have arrived! <- Come get your boy!
Closing the listing on late Sunday the 19th! Shipping should start no later than December 21st, assuming theres no overseas shipping delays, and assuming they keychains dont get lost to transit hell!
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thebrainrotsreal · 12 days
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EVIL MARK, EVIL MARK, EVIL MARK!!! I want to be coherent about this season but please picture me foaming at the mouth and running on the walls. S2 being what if Mark's just like his Dad? Insanity. I love this show. Anyways, AU where an Evil!Mark tries to make Our!Mark worse, and Our!Mark tries to make the other better. Something something confronting your idea of the worst version of oneself. Plus, tweaked black and yellow costume because I saw it and immediately went murder hornet lookin' ass and knew I had to draw it. Evil ass Mark. Horrible. I think he should be dragged kicking and screaming into redemption.
#mark and the fact he is fighting for this fucking life to avoid the Many Bad Endings???? im pacing. getting out the red string.#when the season is about who you are and what you could become. when trying to be good is an active choice and a struggle.#RAHHHHHHHHHHH#chewing on the bars of my enclosure...when every mark is evil OUR mark is the outlier. the exception. the OTHER. RAHHHH#dog poetry being mark poetry because how often can you kick a dog before it starts snarling before you raise your hand?#how often can you beat it before it rips into you without mercy? when it bites not at your hand but at your neck?#when does violence for survival and violence for vengeance start and end? when your opponent is down and you keep drawing blood?#circling and pacing and losing my mind over this btw if you care#anyways self vs self gets me going crazy. did you know i loved the end of atsv? because it shows.#i think o!mark would lose his fucking mind at what evil wasp looking mark has done + this mf wasp would LOATHE mark's kindness#they both see the other as the WORST version of themselves and they can't stand it. They can't shatter the mirror but they think they can--#--change the reflection.#evil mark seeing mark and seeing what he USED to be#mark seeing what he COULD be#CAN U SEE THE VISION??????#digital art#invincible rotating in my mind#invincible fanart#fanart#mark my beloved#mark grayson fanart#mark grayson#invincible s2#invincible show#mark like hello this is my secret twin and he is NOTHING like me hahahaha anyways wanna debate about having mORALS and LIFE#mark grayson vs the urge not to accept every responsibility as his own#he's batman coded that way#ok im done yapping#if this happened in the comics in any way shape or form dont tell me JACK SHIT or i will PUMMEL YOU with my SHOES
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hylianane · 5 months
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I have a feeling that Sanji and Zoro’s death pact will be properly resolved in Elbaf, as it certainly doesn’t feel like we’re done with it. And while Elbaf is gearing up to be very Usopp-centric (and I can not overstate how hyped I am to see him take the spotlight again, finally), let’s not forget that this all ties back to Little Garden, the arc that properly introduced Zoro and Sanji’s rivalry by paralleling them with two rival giants who fought each other every day for over a century, but who also lost themselves in their grief when one thought the other death. The parallel isn’t even subtle, Little Garden’s biggest landmarks are the remnants of Dorry and Brogy’s dinosaur hunting competition. You know. The very same competition Zoro and Sanji posed to each other at the start of the arc?
But here’s the thing. I’m a little worried about how it’s going to be resolved. Because. Despite how readily Zoro agreed to kill Sanji if need be, he must have known that the crew would never forgive him. Zoro is Luffy’s specialest guy but Luffy would not accept any excuse as to why Sanji had to die. Nor anyone else in the crew. But. Does Sanji realize that?
Does he know that killing him would literally be the hardest thing Zoro would ever do, because it would mean literally betraying his Captain and crew? Luffy said he can’t become Pirate King without Sanji, and Zoro and Luffy swore they’d commit fucking ritualistic suicide if they got in the way of each other’s dreams, so does Sanji know where that would leave the swordsman in this case? With no Captain, no crew, and yet another dead rival and best friend (who, mind you, began to live in fear of his own biology betraying him right before dying. but the parallels between Kuina and Sanji and how they relate to Zoro could be a long ass post for another day).
I think he doesn’t know. But he can’t find out how Zoro would mourn him unless the pact actually follows through. But still, I don’t think Oda would kill Sanji, cause that’s no way to resolve this issue. So here’s my speculation about how I think it could potentially play out, following that initial line of thinking of the death pact’s resolution being set in Elbaf, specifically because of Sanji and Zoro’s parallels to Dorry and Brogy.
Like Brogy, Zoro would have to believe that he killed Sanji. That he won their final duel. He’d have to believe that Sanji has fallen and, also like Brogy, have to face that grief and hurt all alone. But in the end, like Dorry, Sanji would survive, having never actually been hurt. Because their edges have dulled after fighting for so long, no longer as capable of landing killing blows as they thought. “Not even the blades of Elbaf could endure two giants fighting for 100 years”? Something of the sort. And maybe this line of speculation is simplistic or optimistic, but the chances of it playing out like this aren’t zero, so just in case, I would want to be able to say that I called it.
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trensu · 7 months
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Some more of stasis in darkness. you have no idea how many times i've written this scene. i discarded three or four different versions of it before i came up with this one. i feel like this version worked best for the characters. or at least i hope they feel in character.
It was the ninth night.
Steve took his usual spot before the shrine. He greeted his god as he had before but decided tonight was going to be a quiet night. He didn’t have much to say so he’d simply let his faith burn bright in his silent vigil.
Hours passed, and again the strange man didn’t show up as he had been the nights prior. This time, Steve didn’t bother putting it off. He decided to do a perimeter check. As he stood, however, a cacophony of squeaks and beating wings filled the air.
A massive colony of bats burst into the clearing. They moved shockingly fast as they neared Steve and the shrine. Steve ducked his head under his arms but let the bats come. He ignored the little Robin in his head yelling about rabies. He couldn’t risk hurting one of his god’s favored creatures. 
There were so many of them, more than Steve had ever seen in his life. They flew round and round dropping altitude until they coalesced at the foot of the shrine. The din stopped as abruptly as it had started. When Steve could no longer hear a single squeak or feel wings zipping overhead, he lowered his arms. Cautiously, he lifted his head, eyes drawn immediately to the shrine to check for any damage. 
Not a single bat remained. Instead, the strange man sat, cross legged, at the statue’s feet. He wore a dark cloak comprised of deep navies, bruising purples, and an inky black. Each color slowly, gracefully shifted and melted one into another, again and again before Steve’s eyes. Flecks of light littered it in familiar formations. The clasp that secured it around the man was a bright silvery white. It was shaped exactly the same as the waning moon above. 
“Ta-da!” the man said, fluttering his hands in a showman’s gesture.
Steve took in the man's appearance. The ratty travel clothes, the cloak of constellations and its clasp…Steve leapt back in shock. Everything suddenly clicked into place very quickly to paint a very unflattering picture of himself. He whirled around. He couldn't face the shrine. 
"Shit," Steve's voice was loud with a stunned sort of panic as he remembered the events of the past week. He paced anxiously. "Shit, shit. It was y–the whole time, you were–FUCK. How did I miss–and even if you weren't you, you were still a traveler in the night and I treated you like–I'm a fucking idiot. I'm the stupidest man alive, how–"
"Probably from getting dropped on the head so much, huh?" the man asked with that same annoyingly self-satisfied voice he'd been using every night. The annoying stranger with his annoying questions and his stupid smug tone.
Mindlessly, Steve turned on his heel to glare at the man. He jabbed an accusatory finger in his direction, frustration flaring.
"Oh, you can fuck right off, man," Steve replied reflexively. "I am having a crisis!"
A split second later, he felt his stomach drop to his feet. This wasn't just a stranger talking. He backpedaled hard.
"Oh, ohhhh no, I didn't mean that, Lord, I-I wasn't thinking."
The man exploded into raucous laughter. It shook his whole body until he doubled over from the strength of it. He continued to laugh when he toppled off the side of his perch and landed with a thunk on the ground. The man sat up, wheezing and wiping at his face, mirth clearly keeping him in a choke-hold. 
"Oh, far be it for me to interrupt your crisis," the Lord of Night forced out amidst the laughter. He flapped a hand at him. "Please, continue."
The god attempted to regain composure but all that did was turn his full bellied guffaws into snorting giggles. Steve waited, his anxiety fading in the face of the god’s genuine good humor. It took another couple of minutes before the god calmed enough to pop back to his feet and climb back onto the plinth. The man made himself comfortable at the foot of his own statue as he had before.
"So how goes the crisis?" he asked mischievously.
"On hold," Steve said evenly, fighting back the start of a smile. The man said nothing but still radiated amusement. Steve crossed his arms over his chest. "Are you really the Lord of Night?"
"The one and only!"
“And you’ve been here the whole time?”
“Yep!”
“So why didn’t you say anything? I mean, I talked to you every night! I don’t get it.” Steve paused as a thought occurred to him. “Was this a test?”
“Uh…yes? Yes.”
Steve narrowed his eyes. The god shifted in his seated position. It reminded Steve of the time Dustin shattered a jar of his most expensive hair product and tried to hide it. Dustin had squirmed guiltily under Steve’s expectant gaze until he confessed to his dastardly crime. Apparently, the method worked on gods as well.
“Okay, it started more as an attempt to get you to leave me alone,” the Lord of Night admitted. 
“Oh.” It came out blankly, which Steve was grateful for, because he felt like he’d been kicked in the chest by a mule. “You don’t want me.”
Steve wasn't sure why he was surprised. This was a classic Steve problem. He tamped down the old familiar sting of rejection. Steve knew going in that this had been a possibility. It was a god’s right to reject an offering.
“I never wanted any holy warriors,” the Lord of Night corrected. “Hence the attempt to make you leave.” 
Steve supposed that lessened the blow a little. It was an impersonal rejection. That was better, right? 
"If you didn't want me as your holy warrior you could've just said," Steve said ruefully.
“You seemed pretty determined to come back, though.”
“Only because I thought you’d want to, like, use me for something. If you’d asked me to, I would’ve stopped bothering you. I could’ve gotten someone else who could worship you better,” Steve said, trying to keep his voice light and unaffected.
"Yeah, I really don’t think you could have,” the Lord of Night said in a strained tone. 
“No, I mean it,” Steve insisted. “I told you, Robin and Dustin wanted to come along. They would make sure you’re not alone again. You would like them. They pick up on stuff faster than me. They’d be good worshipers.”
“That’s not what I meant. Your worship was, uh, it was…no, nevermind, forget that. The thing is, the more you came back the more I…” 
The Lord of Night trailed off. He tugged his dark starry cloak around him tighter. When he spoke again, he seemed to have switched tracks entirely. 
"Look, I don't know exactly how the holy warrior thing works, but you guys do quests for your gods, right?"
"Well, yeah, that's the whole point. We're your boots on the ground. We do acts in your service to spread your faith. Like priests but less boring." 
The god snorted which made Steve grin.
"Priests are so boring," the Lord of Night agreed. 
Things went quiet again. The cloak of constellations made it hard to see his god, but Steve got the impression that the Lord of Night was fidgeting. Steve remembered the conversation from a few nights before, about nervousness and not knowing what to do. Steve fell back on his social graces, his good old Harrington charm, and carefully picked something that would encourage the god to speak.
"I can't believe I didn’t see it,” Steve said, with a self-deprecating shake of his head. “Like, I know I'm not the smartest guy around but I didn't think I was that slow."
"Don't worry about it,” the god replied instantly, breaking out of his internal reverie. “That's not on you. I didn't want you to notice, so you didn't."
"Oh."
"Yep. And, it's not like I have a face to remember, so, y'know. You're good."
"I guess that does make me feel bet–wait. What do you mean you don’t have a face?” Steve squinted at the Lord of Night.
“Well, I don’t know if you’ve heard, but I lost my name,” the Lord of Night said with a hint of irony. “No name, no face.”
“But I saw it,” Steve insisted.
“Did you?” the Lord of Night asked, amused. He slid off the plinth and walked up to Steve until he was only three feet away. The god lowered his hood without any flourish. “What do I look like?”
Steve squinted at him studiously. The god was pale as moonlight and had hair as dark as the night itself; as for the rest of him…it was the strangest thing. Steve knew there was a pair of eyes under a brow. There was a nose above a mouth. He knew the right features were in the right places. However, he couldn’t tell if the eyes were dark or pale. He couldn’t say whether the nose was large or small. The mouth could be thin or it could be full. 
“I don’t know,” Steve relented. The Lord of Night nodded.
“Yeah, me neither.”
“Is…is that the quest? To find your name?” Steve asked, dread pooling in his belly. That quest would involve a lot of reading and…he didn’t even know. Language things? General research, for sure. None of which Steve was particularly good at.
“That’s a bit presumptuous of you,” the Lord of Night smirked. He didn't give Steve a chance to apologize. “But yeah, there’s something important that needs to be done. I’m not strong enough to do it myself and I’m running out of time to do it.”
“I can do it,” Steve responded. “I’ll do it for you, my Lord.”
“You don’t even know what the quest is,” the god said wistfully.
“But I know you wouldn’t ask me to do anything cruel or unfair.”
“You’re unbelievable,” the Lord of Night muttered under his breath. Steve didn’t think he was supposed to hear that so he kept quiet. In a louder voice, the god resumed. “Okay, are you sure you wanna do this? Be a holy warrior? Because you could be literally anything else. You told me you liked cooking during one of your prayer sessions. You could open up a restaurant! Restaurant owners don’t usually die in the line of duty or whatever.”
Steve resisted the urge to roll his eyes. This is what Steve trained for, what he was good at, and he wanted to put those skills to use.
“You said you needed help to do something important. I want to be the one that helps you. I want to be your warrior. I can do it, I know I can. I won’t let you down.” Steve bit his lip uncertainly as a thought struck him. "If you don't think I'm worthy–"
“It’s not about worthiness!" The god cut in. "Do you know what it would mean to be my holy warrior? The weight of the night sky, with all the stars and the moon, will be on your shoulders for as long as you walk the land. I don’t know much about holy warriors but I remember this: there’s no take-backs. You can’t just quit and go off to become something else later.”
“Yes, I know. We covered this in lectures at school. It wasn’t all swordplay," Steve said impatiently. "I did think about it once I finished training and I decided if I could find a god to pledge myself to, I didn't want to be anything else. Then I found you."
“...Okay. If you're sure, then okay,” the Lord of Night said decisively. “So what do I have to do? How do I make you mine?”
“Um, I think it’s different from god to god?” Steve stuttered, heart thumping at the god’s words. “But I guess we can do our own thing? I’m pretty sure it’s the intent that matters most.”
"I can work with that." The Lord of Night gestured downward. "Kneel, kneel. I have an idea of what to say.
"Should I close my eyes or something?" Steve asked once he’d gotten to his knees.
"Nah, this is good," Lord Night said. 
The god squared his shoulders and straightened his spine. Then, something miraculous happened. The Lord of Night spoke his name aloud.
“Steve Harrington.”
It was the first time his god ever said his name; it was stunning in a way Steve couldn’t begin to comprehend. A bolt of lightning down his spine. A roaring forge in his chest. A whirlwind in his lungs. It felt like all of that simultaneously, yet nothing like that at all. How could pitiful human speech hope to encompass the intensity of a god’s undivided attention; his god’s specific acknowledgement of a primitive life such as his? 
Tears sprang unbidden in Steve’s eyes. He became aware how lowly and frail his own body was, and how utterly insignificant his existence was in the vastness of the stars in the sky. He curled forward, hiding his face and making himself as small as he could. He could not bear his god seeing his mortal failings and imperfections. It would invite an exquisite, holy agony Steve surely wouldn’t survive. 
“Oh,” the Lord of Night breathed. “I forgot how that could feel to a human. I’ll try not to do it again.”
“No,” the word tore out of Steve’s throat without any conscious thought. “No, please. Please, my Lord.”
Steve didn’t even know what he was begging for because the singular attention of a god was agony but the thought of his god leaving him filled him with terror. He shattered, left with no purchase save his god’s words. Then there were arms around him, pulling him close, and enveloping him in constellations. Steve’s vision blurred. Great, heaving sobs overcame him as though ripped from his very soul. The Lord of Night murmured comfortingly.
“Alright, there we go,” he said softly. “I’m here, Steve. I see you in the night, every night. The stars shine for you, Steve. The moon turns its face for you. I’m with you, Steve.”
The words crashed into him with the unrelenting force of ocean waves. They swept his footing from underneath him and sent him spinning endlessly, endlessly. They lifted him upwards and sent him plummeting down until he was deep below the surface where the currents finally slowed. Surrounded by eternally burning stars, he was left weightless and suspended in an unearthly calm. The words rang in his skull with the surety and strength only a celestial being could claim.
Somewhere between an eternity and no time at all, Steve came back to himself feeling overexerted, though he hadn’t moved from where he knelt. Steve’s heart and soul had been scraped out of his chest, put between a pestle and mortar before getting unceremoniously dumped back in his weak flesh, but in a weirdly good way. His sobs subsided. His breathing came in and out slowly.
Eventually the cloak of constellations released him as well. He blinked his eyes open gradually to see his god kneeling before him at arm's length, palms resting on Steve's shoulders. Steve felt a stab of shame at having brought his god down low to a mortal's level. 
“Sorry. I’m sorry,” Steve croaked. “Do you still–? Can I still be–?”
“No, yeah,” the Lord of Night said straight away. “That was on me. Not your fault at all. I’m out of practice interacting with mortals."
The god’s words lost the gravitas from before in a way that would've been jarring if it weren't such a relief. He finally broke his hold on Steve. He got to his feet, somewhat gracelessly. 
"Let’s try that again?” the Lord of Night asked.
Steve cleared his throat. He straightened up where he knelt and kept himself still. He nodded to show he was ready.
“Steve Harrington,” the god said. This time hearing his name on his god’s lips was exhilarating but at a level a human could bear. “Do you swear to spread my values in the minds and hearts of mortals, through action and word?”
“I swear.”
“Then will you, Steve Harrington, do me the honor of being my sword and shield? Will you carry my crest through all your agonies and all your joys?”
“Yes.”
For a breathless moment, their words hung in the air, resonating through the night with finality. The Lord of Night reached out and gently traced something on Steve's forehead. Steve assumed it was his god's sigil, though neither Robin or Dustin could find any images of it so he couldn't be sure. It felt like an incomplete circle with a squiggle running through it. The god stepped back to observe him when he was done.
The stillness that followed, ironically, rattled Steve’s bones with relief and joy that it was done. His god had accepted him. Then the Lord of Night shuffled his feet in an awkward, shy manner.
“Cool,” said the Lord of Night.
The heaviness and tension brought down by the gravity of their oath ruptured with that single world, and Steve could do nothing but dissolve in helpless, giddy giggles.
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