#i'm curious to see more

[goldfishgrahamcracker]

Media with cannibalism

Thinking about some of the media I've enjoyed, and I'm noticing a pattern

[ao3usermelancholyhues]

rb for larger sample size! feel free to elaborate in tags about your process.

[swampybogg]

[trensu]

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

[nellasbookplanet]

Downfall has only just started, but already I'm deeply curious what Bells Hells reaction will be to seeing it play out. I've mentioned before that I suspect the dislike or outright disdain some of the party feels for the gods - most notably Ashton and Laudna, but also Imogen at times - is in part a product of the gods being so distant as to not feel like real people to them, and therefore being easy scapegoats.

It’s easy to see the mortal victims of Ludinus and the Vanguard as just that: victims. The Hells have met them, have been them. They have not seen or felt the gods suffer in the same way. Laudna even went so far as to blame the gods for mortal deaths and suffering after the solstice, even as the gods are the ones under attack. They feel uniquely abandoned by the world, and it's easy to blame these distant, powerful figures for their hardship. Certainly much easier than to see the mortal systems that enabled their harm, or to actively seek improvement on their own.

But to see the gods now, not just as people but as mortals, with all the flaws and vulnerabilities and fears of any of the Hells, with loved ones of their own and the same desperate sense of self-preservation as any living thing, will they be able to hold onto the disdain that they’ve clung to for so long?

[sketchupnfries]

Quick break time sketch of Maya since I haven't drawn her in a while

[beetlethebug]

consider,,,a lucanis who is in love with emmrich, a spite who is in love with rook, a rook in love with emmrich, and emmrich who is in love with all three but wants lucanis, spite, and rook to get together because he feels he is not the type of man any of them deserve...

bonus points for spite being the one to realize just what sort of love quadrilateral is going on and is the one to get them all together.

[jakeperalta]

defining a "comfort album" as whatever feels right to you :)

[mrsoharaa]

thought of sitting down on your couch and watching a completely unrealistic "reality" love drama show with SatoSugu, both of their arms lounged comfortably behind you along the back of the cushioned furniture. you retort cunning, brash criticism from time to time with each passing scene/episode whenever something goes haywire, about how the men are repulsive and unloyal as fuck, all while Satoru leans in close to you and completely agrees with you, theatrics and all.

"That was so fucking disgraceful, what a asshole! she definitely didn't deserve that"

"Ughhhh, I know right?! he should've just came out and tell her to her face instead of pulling that shady shit! god, men ain't shit!"

and poor Suguru just glances back and forth between the two of you, enjoying the boisterous, distasteful remarks about the cheating partners in the current show you all were watching. he thinks it's silly and ridiculous, but he truly admires the full hearted admiration and passion that dwells in yours and Satoru's tone. the pure thrill and enticement in the both of your eyes filling his heart with so much love and adoration. he absolutely loves his silly, dramatic partners 💗

[iwritenarrativesandstuff]

Suddenly remembered something I wanted to say re:Akechi, because I think it's really core to his character (at least the way I interpreted him?) and I feel like it explains a lot of his contradictions. Essentially, he is incapable of seeing himself as just a person - he's either the greatest hero/detective ever, or he's some violent monster, and it's like there's no in-between. It's very in keeping with his obvious superiority-inferiority complex, but it goes deeper than that too; when he's in a role, it seems like his self-perception kind of changes too depending on how he is perceived by others. He really does get a confidence boost from being the Detective Prince. He really does shut down emotionally as the Black Mask.

They're masks that he's made, and it's not that aspects of them aren't based in truth to some extent, but I think it goes to show why he's not actually that fantastic a liar (imo, I found the outright lies pretty obvious), but he is a very good actor. He's either an angel or a demon, and never a person, but there are conditions to that. He is an angel when he is perfect - to society. He is a demon when he is vengeful - again, to society. He is never a person, because he never was seen as one - to society. He was disregarded. To be anything of value or notoriety, whether that's hero or villain, he has to be wildly more or less than who he actually is, and he's been building these masks up for so long that I really think he lost sight of the actual person behind it all. And I don't think he wanted to see that person anyways, because that person "wasn't good enough" and I do think he'd rather be anything other than himself. That trickery, that deflection from the person within, in itself brings him pride and satisfaction. He wants to be loved and needed instead of being cast aside, but I also think that if he can't have that then he'd much rather be hated than never have mattered at all. He weaponizes his own loneliness - if he can't ever be accepted then he'll build his own pedestal apart from everyone else.

It's so fascinating too, because I just wonder how much of this he was consciously aware of pre, during, and post engine room. There's this recurring thing with him where he goes "I can only be myself" etc but I just want to shake him because, well, who is that, Akechi??? Or, who do you think that is? Do you actually have an answer? Is it predicated on your actual feelings or solely on your success at fooling everyone around you? Is there any part of you that you actually like that isn't based on a painstakingly constructed mask? Isn't it all mostly lies to deflect from the truth? Isn't it all founded mostly on truth, nonetheless?

It drives me insane. And I think this is a big reason why he breaks so hard in the engine room, because so much of his mask requires his "audience" to perform in a particular way. And here he is, and the Thieves have beaten him, so there goes the first mask, because he's no longer "perfect". He swings wildly into the ugliest sides of him, but this mask is broken too, amidst him vehemently and desperately denying that he has any other emotions than hatred and rage, or any other needs or desires than vengeance. And after that, it's just him. And they should reject him, right? That's what happens. He's not useful, he's not needed or perfect, his hands are stained with blood. But the Thieves, again, don't play the role he expects them to. They, despite everything, relate to him - because he is in fact very similar in a lot of ways and they acknowledge him as a person - not a hero, or idol, or villain, or tool, or unwanted child - but as a damaged teen like the rest of them. And he does not know what to do with that. His identity is intrinsically dependent on getting the right reactions from other people as a form of ingratiating himself - if he does not get that reciprocal reaction he's looking for, his act falters, and, I really do believe that so does his self-perception. That's why you see different aspects of him seep out when he's spending time with Joker, because Joker does not react the way he expects, and Akechi both does and does not like this, because it leaves him feeling both intrigued and vulnerable.

I do think this particular aspect of his character is something a lot of the Thieves don't fully grasp - certainly, I think Joker "I need the mask" Persona 5 understands to a degree, but the sheer degree of reliance and the level of pride attached to it is something that confuses him a little, I think, especially in Mementos Mission. I think the thief that comes closest is actually Morgana, who has a similar superiority-inferiority complex and a desperate need to be seen as competent and useful lest he be discarded. (This is a big part of why the rather lackluster writing with Morgana's arc frustrates me so much because I really do feel it was meant to be contrasted with Akechi's, but I digress.) Morgana is the one to make that emotional appeal to Akechi, which makes a degree of sense - Morgana struggled all along with finding a place in the world. His form leads others to underestimate him; he visually doesn't fit in. He's acting out the role of a chivalrous and cool phantom thief but is more pragmatic with how he views relationships, at least at first. He wants a place to belong where he is appreciated more than anything but his pride won't let him spit it out. Accepting that he belongs and that he is loved even if he really did have nothing of value to provide is a big part of the resolution of his arc. He tries to offer that learned lesson to Akechi in turn ("Follow your true feelings. Even if you think people hate you, or don't want you around-"), but Akechi just wasn't in the right space to listen. There's also an important distinction between the two - Morgana envies humans and looks up to them. Akechi envies humans and looks down on them. Morgana is perfectly happy once he is assured a place amongst the group, but Akechi see-saws wildly between wanting to belong and wanting to be a step above the rest and separating himself further. So while Morgana actually really did cut to the core of the issue, his appeal would never have worked at this point because a) Akechi's pride is dependent on him maintaining his solo act, and b) he just got outed as not actually hating Joker in front of seven other people including Joker himself lmao.

So, uh, sorry, Morgana. Points for trying.

[astorkes]

a good brother💟

just noticed i accidentally cut off a character on the 2nd one lmao my bad to everyone who can speak chinese🙏 have this flower boquet 💐

[melonyfelonyfellonme]

Thing is though, if bw are seemingly quite happy dropping quite important bits of info/lore but not treating them as spoilers

What are they actually hiding bc if that, to them, isn't that big of a deal, then..

[xxplastic-cubexx]

i finished reading krakoa era and comic cherik are amazing SO i wanted to ask do you have any favorite issues/series i still don't really remember how to call it where cherik are also cool?? some iconis comic moments with them maybe??

im FARRR from finishing all of krakoa (ive probably barely even made a dent in this series), though i do think following the HoX + PoX issues themselves are great if we're talkin cherik-focused issues/books. i already said one of my fave aspects of cherik is their moments working together, so having a whole Omnibus dedicated to them Working Together and trusting each other (bonus points for Protective Erik with the Something Sinister bit) is already guaranteeing a sure spot in my Faves collection

one of my fave cool moments i've read so far- which is a moment i wager a lot of people can agree is Sick As Hell Visually if i may be so daring- is ABSOLUTELY this sequence from Inferno #4

any time erik and charles get to do some bamf shit together it is IMMEDIATELY peak to me this cannot be disputed and i'd be lying if i didn't say i bought this run solely for this moment here (ignore the fact they fumble this fight horribly that dont matter they looked cool as hell for five seconds !!!!!!!!!!!)

i can't wait to read more and find even more moments i love and want to tape to my eyelids <3 !!