#just was assigned to a different character

[bluemotifofsleep]

Appetite

suna rintarou x reader

- and when he’d kissed you that first time, with all of the hunger of a man at the end of the world indulging in his last meal, you should have seen it as the sign it was.

content: alcohol consumption, swearing, slight dub-con but very slight, smut, unsafe sex, corruption kink, size kink, choking (oops) , plot what plot, inappropriate amount of use of the word “baby” , not beta read

this came from a very decrepit part of my mind, enjoy.

~

“ya look real stiff, ya know. loosen up.”

for atsumu to tell you those words was like asking a fish to breath air. it was wholly against your character to “loosen up”, especially at a party like this one.

you’d been dragged here by the twins, both arguing that “it’s collage! yer gonna miss out on all the fun if ya stay in yer room readin’ books the whole time.” and for the first time, you’d had nothing to negotiate with. you had no upcoming assignments, no papers due to otherwise busy yourself with. and so you’d been dragged.

it was not your scene.

the bustle of the party jostled you every now and then in the unfamiliar kitchen you were standing in. the bass of the music loud enough to drown out your own heartbeat in your ears, the rush of blood that started when you’d entered the place and hadn’t stopped since.

you felt like a dolphin dropped into the sahara desert. a lone imposter amongst the other students your age. the people shouting and frat-flicking and on a completely different planet than you were. you feel entirely alone in your predicament.

you really, really shouldn’t be here.

and it’s not your first party, but most others were small hangouts, things that probably wouldn’t even qualify as parties at all. this one was huge, the sheer number of people making you feel claustrophobic in the small student apartment you were all crammed into. your only saving grace was the twins, who you’d made promise you they wouldn’t ditch your side the whole night.

the twins who are currently bickering on over who can make a better cocktail, even though you’d assured them you didn’t want it regardless. but now atsumu is shoving a red plastic cup smelling strongly of vodka that’s somehow already sticky on the sides into your hands and telling you to “drink up!”.

you… really shouldn’t. last time you drank with the twins all three of you ended up taking turns puking into your toilet, and the hangover the next day was something for the ages. you really shouldn’t.

but alcohol gives you the promise of drowning out this buzz under your skin, the need to hide from all these prying eyes. it’ll ease your tensions a bit, make your mouth looser and enable you to have a decent conversation with someone without the fear of saying something wrong looming over you.

alright, you’ll just have one drink. just one.

well, four cups later and you’d already forgotten your quota. it’d been a while since the last time you drank, so the alcohol made quick work of fucking up your system, leaking into your muscles and making your eyes droop. your thoughts were little clouds floating across your skull, not sticking around long enough for you to worry about them at all.

maybe the music was getting louder, or maybe you just started paying attention to it better. it felt like the bass traveled up through your feet and into your skull, rattling your nerves and adding to the buzz your whole body put out.

you vaguely register that the twins are fighting again, something about grey goose or absolut tasting better. all of it tasted like trash, you wanted to say, but the words got stuck like peanut butter to the roof of your mouth as a chill went up your spine.

someone’s staring.

even in your inebriated consciensness, you can feel eyes on you like a dagger in your back. it manages to slither in before the alcohol can subdue it, tickling up your spine like a snake.

before you can turn around to find the culprit, atsumu is lighting up and yelling “sunarin!” over your shoulder, way too fucking close to your ear in your opinion.

and more like a wild animal than a man, suna rintarou creeps around the side of you and into your vision, and you realized that the feeling of being watched never left.

“where ya been? haven’t even seen ya all night.” it’s osamu speaking now, and you notice that his words are slurring slightly. it makes you feel better that your not the only one fucked up.

“me and gin just got here, i like to show up later to these things.” his voice is like honey in your ears, and for some reason it reaches through your drunkenness and scratches at something gooey inside of your chest. you can’t tell if you like the feeling or not.

“this is sunarin, he’s on the volleyball team with me n’ ‘samu.” atsumu slurs to you, and you want to say “i know, dumbass. i watch you guys all the time” but the words get caught in your throat when suna turns to you, looming over you like a predator.

“i’ve seen you before, in the stands.” the thought of him picking you out of a crowd of strangers scratches at that weird thing inside you, and it makes you feel a bit trapped for some reason.

all that comes out of your mouth is your name, a poor introduction but one nonetheless. the alcohol is making it hard to form thoughts, or maybe it’s just the way suna is looking at you.

when he repeats your name, your ears light up bright hot, blood rushing to your head and making you feel dizzy with his voice.

“oh yeah? sunarins noticed ya.” atsumu waggles his eyebrows stupidly at you, and you didn’t notice he’d put his arm around you but he jostles you side to side like a prize to be won. you want to punch him in the gut.

“ah, there’s gin. let’s go say hi ta him.” osamu says, and then both of your safety blankets are leaving you with this man that you barely know who does weird things to your stomach. you have half a mind to shoot your hand out and grab at osamu before he gets away but you’d feel like a baby if you did, so it says shock still beside you.

when you look up at suna, he’s already looking at you. something you can’t name in his eyes. if you saw it on a wild animal in the woods you’d think you’re about to be eaten alive. but on him? you don’t know what it makes you think. maybe that you should have grabbed osamus arm when you had a chance.

“hey, you doing okay? you look a little out of it.” his words ring out in the space between you, and there isn’t a trace of genuine concern in his voice. it sounds smug to your ears, something too sharp for your drunk brain to register. somehow it feels like a warning. a bright neon sign saying “turn back now” or “wrong way”.

it’s just you. you want to reply to him. it’s just him making you sway slightly from side to side, it’s just him causing the buzzing under your skin, it’s just him clouding your thoughts and making it hard to open your mouth and reply.

“i think i, um, might need some water.” comes out instead, and he smirks like he’s been waiting for you to say that, like your a bug that just crawled under his shoe.

“i’ll get you some.” and then he’s gone, taking with him his suffocating presence that had been slowly squeezing you tighter. you let out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding, your shoulders sinking with it.

who is this guy?

he returns with a glass of water before you can answer your own question. when you reach for it he just shakes his head.

“i’ll do it, so you don’t spill all over yourself.” you want to reply im not that drunk, but then you realize that your hands are shaking, and you wonder if it’s the alcohol, or if it’s-

the cup in his hand descends towards your mouth before you can finish your thought. against your better judgment, you part your lips so he can fit the cold rim of the glass in between them. he puts his hand on your shoulder to steady you, but his thumb creeps upwards towards your neck, dangerously close to your throat, thumbing at the soft skin there. the touch makes tingles shoot out from the point of connection, and you almost forget how to swallow when the water touches your lips.

when the first rush of cold water enters your mouth, you gulp it down greedily. this is normal, right? he’s just helping you, making sure you don’t ‘spill all over yourself’, there’s no other intention behind his actions. but when you look up and meet sunas eyes looking down at you, you almost choke on the water in your throat.

the look is something you can only describe as hungry. you feel like you’re looking into a black hole, something with no end. something you could fall into and never reach the bottom of, free falling with your stomach in your throat, and you can’t tell if your leaning towards it or away from it.

you feel dizzy, partially from a lack of oxygen and partially from his gaze washing over you in a flash of heat. goosebumps prickle up from your skin, an accute awareness in where his hand is sitting on your shoulder.

you grab at his wrist and tug to get him to pull the cup back, because it didn’t seem like he wanted to stop anytime soon, like he was trying to fucking drown you. you gulp the air into your lungs greedily. the feeling in your head gets doubled, a whirling feeling like you can’t tell up from down. luckily his hand is still on you stabilizing you, or you embarrassingly might’ve have fallen.

“all better?” and fuck, you’d missed his voice in the few minutes since he last spoke. the shivers running down your spine are getting addictive, the rush of adrenaline awakening something inside you that’s been dormant for years.

you want to tug him down into you and show him just how much better you’re feeling but you hum out a conformation instead, the vibrations flowing through you and adding to the buzz your feeling.

he gulps down the rest of the water you’d left behind, and you watch his throat swallow greedily. you want to reach out and drag your fingers along it, feel his pulse and confirm he is human and not something sent down from heaven to test your resolve.

he doesn’t break eye contact while he drinks, looking at you parched as if he isn’t drinking water at all. the cosmos’s that are his irises threatening to drink you instead, merge you into one.

it’s getting harder to say that you don’t want that, too.

the only break you get is when he places the empty glass on the counter, and then his gaze is eating you up again, clawing at your nerves. when he breaks eye contact, you realize it’s just to get a better look at you, the whole of you. it feels like you’ve suddenly stripped naked in from of him, shedding your skin and muscle too. giving him unlimited access to your nerves, your heart.

“you sure? you still look out of it.” his words are goading, trying to convince you as much as himself. trying to wriggle into your mind and turn off the switch that lets you have your own thoughts, trying to take control. “you want to go somewhere quiet?”

and as normally innocent the words would be on their own, the look he’s giving you indicates it’s a very important question. life, or death. up, or down. will you sink, or swim?

will he drown you?

just like you took that first sip of alcohol that night, you slip your hand into his waiting one. you choose the path you shouldn’t, but it’s tugging you down regardless.

the face he makes when you do, though, almost makes you regret it. it’s something just past the point of hunger, something a predator makes before they pounce. before you have time to reconsider, he’s dragging you down the dark hallway into a room along the side of it, shutting the door behind you. you can’t tell if he locks it, a thought that tingles along the back of your spine in trepidation.

“you should sit down.” it’s worded like a suggestion but his voice falls flat. instead of waiting for you to make the decision on your own, he backs you with his tall frame and wide shoulders until the back of your legs hit the matress. unfortunately, you don’t have the balance to stay upright so your ass lands on the bed with a bounce, causing him to loom over you even more than he already did.

this entire situation feels like a game of chess, analyzing his moves, but you don’t know if you want to win or lose. should you concede? flick your king over so he can advance?

you dont have to, he’s already moving in. you dont need to give him permission, spread your legs to make room for him, he’s bending down and making room for himself.

kneeling in between your legs, he doesn’t look any smaller, and it’s an insane thought. he’d tower over you laying down.

“i’ve noticed you, at every game you’ve been to.” his hand is reaching around your throat, somehow dwarfing you again in a new way, tilting your head up towards him. “fuck, how could i not.” then he’s squeeeezing his hand ever so slightly with his words, and your eyes are almost fucking crossing at the pressure, the feeling between your legs changing from an ache to a throb.

“with your cute little skirts, barely even covering your ass.” he’s flipping the skirt your wearing now up, flashing your panties and making your cheeks warm even hotter.

“and the way you congratulate the twins after every win, almost makes me jealous.” there’s that feeling again, something hot in your chest that makes you want to run out of here before you lose yourself completely to him. before you get swallowed whole.

but he’s leaning his mouth down to where he has your chin tilted up with his thumb, so even if you wanted to run, your legs turn to jelly underneath you, useless.

and, ah, this is where those hungry gazes come to fruition. because if you thought his eyes were eating you alive, his mouth was devouring you.

your head tilts back against his onslaught despite yourself, your neck losing the ability to keep your head up properly, but he’s squeezing your throat to keep you in place. his other hand makes its way from your thigh to the back of your head, giving him the power to deepen the kiss into something even more decrepit and dangerous.

he licks into your mouth, and it feels like he’s exploring your mind with it, and you fucking mewl.

the kiss is like nothing you’ve ever experienced before, not that you had much experience to begin with. should it feel like this? he licks along your gums, unable to get enough of your mouth. should it feel like drowning?

when his hand moves from your neck, it slides down your body. you almost think he’s reaching for your skirt again until he goes back up, under your shirt.

the first squeeze of his big hand on you causes your lips to open against his and you breath a moan into his open mouth. he sucks it in greedily.

“fuck, baby. so fucking sensitive, huh?” just to prove his point, he reaches a thumb under your bra to flick at your nipple, and all you can do is squeeze your legs around him and whimper into the air between you.

he groans, something deep and guttural, and it washes over you in another wave of heat. you want more. you want to hear what other sounds he can make.

all you can express outwardly is another whine when his mouth descends onto your neck. he’s sucking on the skin there, and you feel devoured again. especially when he ads his teeth to the mixture of pleasure, dragging them against your fragile skin while his hand that used to hold the back of your head drops to your panties.

the first swipe of the thumb against the outside of your underwear has any remaining thoughts slipping form your mind. your spine threatens to give out completely underneath you, and you teeter against suna before you fall backwards into the matress.

you make it as far as one breath full of air before he’s following you down, climbing over you and lifting beneath your armpits to slide you further up the mattress, pressing one of his legs in between yours.

when he leans back down to kiss you again, your moan has no where to go while he rubs his thigh against you, his hand still shoved up your shirt.

fuck, you feel overwhelmed. his presence shrouds over you and overrides your nerves, making your limbs feel useless and liquid beside you. when he pulls back to look over you again, he smirks at what you only can imagine is the image of a disheveled mess.

“suna,” jesus, since when does your voice sound so whiny? you can’t worry about it much when you need his mouth back on you, you need his hands everywhere. “please.”

he grins like he’s caught you, something wide and full of teeth.

“please what, baby?” you can feel his hand dragging back up your front, tugging your shirt up with it and letting cold air onto your steaming skin. “need me to go get you some more water?” but he looks like you’d have to drag him off you, no intention of leaving, his question coming out teasing instead of genuine.

fuck, how can you explain what you need from him? need you everywhere, you want to say to him, but he’d probably take that as an opening to tease you again. instead of words, you’ll show him what you need.

despite you arms feeling numb, you drag them up your torso and start unbuttoning your shirt with suna’s hand still tucked underneath. unfortunately, you’re too drunk (yeah, you’ll blame it on the alcohol and not on him) to get the buttons out. fortunately, suna takes pity on you.

not before smirking wolfishly at the blatant display of what he was doing to you, of course.

he makes quick work of your shirt and then his own, tossing them somewhere you scarily cant see and then giving the same treatment to your bra. when you’re bare except for your skirt and panties, he doesn’t give you time to be embarrassed before he’s leaning down and kissing you again.

suna kisses like a man fucking starved, his tongue finding places in your mouth you didn’t even know you had. it makes you so delirious you don’t even realized he’s pushed aside your panties with two fingers. so when he sinks those same fingers into you, you bite down on his lip, hard.

all he does is groan again, in that same deep way that makes you feel a bit lost inside him.

“fuck, baby, you’re sucking me right in.” why did he have to have such a filthy mouth? you want to cover your face with your hands, hide from his hungry gaze. but he’s right, you can hear yourself over the sound of your whimpers, the thick squelch that tells you his fingers are finding no resistance at all against you.

“suna, i need- ah!” before you have the chance to tell him to fucking move he’s curling his fingers expertly against you, finding a spot inside you that makes pleasure shoot out into your arms and legs, causing you to moan unabashedly into the air while your spine arches against him.

fuck, you hope he locked that door earlier.

“you look so good like this under me.” his words don’t even register to you when he starts pumping his fingers in and out, the drag of them against your walls something delicious and addicting.

your eyes are slipping shut in pleasure, your head dipping back against the pillow behind you, but a hand grabs at your jaw and tilts it up again.

“nuh uh, sweetheart.” he does something particularly wicked with his wrist that has your eyes shooting open and a filthy moan falling from your mouth. “good girl, keep your eyes on me. i’m going to make it all better, okay?.”

make what better? make this fire inside your gut go out? yes, please, you want to say, but all your throat seems capable of doing is whining brokenly.

when his fingers pull out of you, you almost feel like you’re going to cry from the loss. then you hear the sound of his pants unzipping and you don’t have the brain power to miss his fingers when his cock is pressing against your entrance.

when he slides home, it feels like an epiphany. an “aha!” moment that you can’t help but feel tracks back to that first moment you’d felt eyes on you, like this was bound to happen. the second he’d seen you, he’d set your future in stone.

he groans like he’s just tasted water after hours in a desert, like the feeling of your pussy wrapped around him was something he needed to survive.

it feels like he’s hitting ground zero inside you, striking up the nerves deep inside and causing fireworks to explode in your stomach. you can’t help but let out a gasp when he pulls out half way, and slams back into you twice as hard. you grip onto his shoulders just to feel grounded, just to have something to tether you back down to earth, and he gasps when your nails dig into his skin.

then he’s pulling back, and fucking into you for real. hard thrusts that make you see stars every time they connect, hitting that point inside you that threatens to shatter you in two.

“fuck, baby, this what you needed?” you’re moaning, whimpering in agreement to his words. “that first time you looked up at me, ah fuck, this is what you were begging for, right?” but his words are lost on you, because he’s reached his hand down onto your throat again and starts squeezing.

there’s something devastating building up inside you, something so powerful you feel tears threaten to spill down your cheeks. the pressure on your throat is limiting blood flow to your head, causing a floating sensation that just ads to the fire building in your core.

he reaches down and kisses you again, and you’re fucking gone.

it’s absolute oblivion. something that feels like it tears through you and leaves nothing behind. all you can do is dig your nails harder into his back and chant suna, suna, suna against his lips.

he groans like your cunt clamped down on him hurts, but he just thrusts harder into you, chasing his own end.

when he does, he moans into your mouth, and in your post-orgasm dazed brain you think it’s the prettiest thing you’ve ever heard. he thrusts one more time, hard and deep into you and then he collapses against you.

you’re spent. your limbs are limp against the mattress, your breathing stuttered, your heartbeat fast and fluttering against your ribcage.

you can vaguely register his lips kissing your collar bone, but your consciousness is starting to leak out of you. a result of your epic comedown, an adrenaline crash that sucked the life right out of you.

just as your eyes flutter closed and the darkness fades in, you hear suna one last time.

“knew from the fucking second i saw you, baby,” and your brain is leaking into oblivion, your thoughts a slew of darkness seeping across the inside of your skull. “that i could make you mine.”

~

[katerinaaqu]

Given how this person blocked me and cannot remember all the points they made but I love it how we keep the same "all shades" okay as I said within a certain spectrum the same way as every continent and every country for that matter has the certain spectum. The major Greek cities even had some restrictions as to who could mingle with who! Like Athens didn't allow the residency within the walls from people who weren't born in Athens! Not even from other Greek Cities and Sparta became arguably even more closed society. Somehow again it became problematic for someone to say stuff like that even if I literally said nothing against the spectrum itself. I just explained my choice on it

And also I love it how again we go with the "leave Africa alone" because basically proved my point! I never said that this was okay ARE YOU FOR REAL?! In fact that was my comment that all of us are furious at the ultimate DISRESPECT African nations got and that they absolutely NEED to be represented right. I never mentioned anything on the absolutely horrifying and offensive ways that the people in Africa or Native American were represented in terms of being offensive towards them

BUT I said that nowadays people do not use the same "harmless fun" to represent none of them but the "harmless fun" somehow is perfectly okay here which basically proved my point on double standards.

And the worst is that there ARE characters in Greek mythology that are assigned to different ethnicities. To name a few Andromeda as princess of Ethiopia can and absolutely must be represented as Ethiopian to have a bigger spectrum. Memnon king of Ethiopia is arguably mixed between Ethiopian and Greek (given how his mother was the greek goddess of Dawn) so we can expect him to have Ethipian characteristics. The Lotus Eaters in the Odyssey are undoubdetly people of Africa and MUST be represented as such. Even Calypso who is linked to areas like Malta or Tynisia. On the other end of the spectrum we have the Amazons that ethnically are most likely related to the Steppe of Ucraine or Bulgaria or the land of Colchis that is linked to modern day Georgia most likely

which again proves my point that we have ACTUAL diversity that NEEDS to be shown in Greek and other mythologies and yet we end ourselves in this conversation and again

I SAID NOTHING ON THE ARTIST TO WHOM I RESPECT AND LOVE THEIR ART DEEPLY

But I only explained my reasonings on my choices and automatically the world came to get me....

Redesigned my Athena.

[bouncypickle]

here's a Roach drabble AU where he joins tf 141

Cockroaches are basically indestructible. They can eat anything, live through some serious radiation, and even survive getting their heads chopped off! Cockroaches are cool even if some people think they’re pests.

Gary doesn’t mind being Roach. His team gave him that moniker after surviving a grenade being thrown at his helmet. It bounced off and blew up the building he was in which then collapsed on top of him. Gary came crawling out of the rubble like a cockroach, alive and unharmed. He’d had a few close calls before so the guys in his squad coined him Roach–an indestructible little fucker, they’d said.

Sometimes, Gary wonders if that’s the only reason his squad decided on that name. Gary is the perpetual weird one, the freak, the guy who always says too much. So he feels like a pest sometimes too.

Ever since he was a kid, Gary has learned to stay quiet and keep to himself. He wears his helmet and balaclava and goggles–to keep his expressive face hidden–and lets himself be a mystery to his squadmates. They don’t ever care about him enough to ask Gary about himself though. So maybe Gary is less of a mystery and more of a background character.

It doesn’t matter anyway because Gary gets passed from team to team, completing missions with one team only to be transferred to a different team in need of more bodies. Gary is basically target practice for the enemy, an extra hand to hold a gun, another nameless G.I. Joe to be killed for his country.

Then Gary is transferred to Task Force 141 to serve under Captain John Price. The squad he’s to join is small with a focus on infiltration. Not usually Gary’s type of assignment. More often than not, Gary is put in front of a bunch of people with guns and told to shoot. This new team might be a refreshing change, honestly.

Gary is surprised to be greeted upon landing on the new base. His welcoming party actually looks welcoming. Usually, Gary is greeted by a grunt or two who bitterly show him the mess, the dorms, the gym and then leave him alone. This evening, two men who are clearly not recruits are waiting for him.

Gary has to do a double take, making sure some admiral isn’t landing instead of him. But the men approach and greet him with kindness.

“Sergeant Gary Sanderson, welcome. I’m Sergeant Kyle Garrick but you can call me Gaz.”

Gaz extends a hand in greeting and Gary shakes it eagerly. Then the other man reaches out and Gary shakes his hand too.

“Aye, welcome. Yer a bit shorter than I was expecting. Ghost made ya sound like a bleedin’ tank but that's alright. We short kings stick together, aye? Name's John MacTavish, call sign Soap.”

Gary has no idea what Soap is talking about but he nods anyway. Better to just agree than ask all the annoying questions on his mind. Like: Who is Ghost? Why are you two greeting me instead of some recruit? Don't you know to call me Roach? Do you like bugs?

Gary frowns at himself under his balaclava. Of course they don't like bugs; no one in their right mind likes bugs.

“Ghost really did talk you up though, mate. We're expecting to see some moves out of you.”

Gary just nods again.

Soap folds his arms, frowning, “Not much of a talker are ye? No wonder Ghost likes ye so much.”

Gaz elbows Soap playfully, “Jealousy is a bad look on you, mate.”

“Roach,” Gary pipes in, unsure whether or not he should interrupt but wanting to get his introduction out of the way, “That's what everyone calls me.”

“Cause of yer helmet?” Soap asks, flicking one of the radio antennas on Gary's helmet.

Gary ducks away from the teasing a bit.

“I'm an indestructible little fucker.”

The other two men burst out laughing. Gary hopes they're laughing with him, not at him. Well, he's not laughing. Anyway, he tries not to read into it too much. People laugh all the time, Gary doesn't always have to get the joke.

“Oh, Simon was right about you,” Soap tells him and suddenly Gary knows who Ghost is.

Only Gary didn't know him as Ghost, he knew him as Simon Riley. Si, actually. Si was his only friend back in the day. He liked Gary, actually listened when he talked about annoying shit like bugs.

What do you call an anxious bug?

A nervous tick.

Si used to make jokes like that over the radio. Then one day Si went MIA and Gary was transferred to another squad and he never heard from or about the man again. He knows this Ghost must be Simon Riley because no one else is weird enough to actually enjoy Gary's company.

[koiukiy-o]

orphic; (adj.) mysterious and entrancing, beyond ordinary understanding. ─── 001 (II). the student.

-> summary: when you, a final-year student at the grove, get assigned to study under anaxagoras—one of the legendary seven sages—you know things are about to get interesting. but as the weeks go by, the line between correlation and causation starts to blur, and the more time you spend with professor anaxagoras, the more drawn to him you become in ways you never expected. the rules of the academy are clear, and the risks are an unfortunate possibility, but curiosity is a dangerous thing. and maybe, just maybe, some risks are worth taking. after all, isn’t every great discovery just a leap of faith? -> pairing: anaxa x gn!reader. -> tropes: professor x student, slow burn, forbidden romance. -> wc: 0.6k -> warnings: potential hsr spoilers from TB mission: "Light Slips the Gate, Shadow Greets the Throne" (3.1 update). main character is written to be 21+ years of age, at the very least. (anaxa is written to be around 26-27 years of age.) swearing, mature themes, suggestive content.

-> a/n: here's chapter 1.5 !!?? its supposed to be in anaxa's pov hehe <3 its not big enough to be a chapter in itself, but its also not something i wanted to squeeze into the original first chapter. i had to rewrite this a million times so i cld express his inner oopie goopie feelings as naturally as possible aughhhh !! i hope i did him justice :") -> prev. || next. -> orphic; the masterlist.

The first time Anaxagoras sees you, he barely registers your presence. Another student, another mind seeking knowledge—no different from the rest. He speaks, and the hall falls into rapt silence, his words measured, precise. He does not need to raise his voice; the magic woven into the walls ensures that even the softest murmur carries.

When he looks at you, it is brief, a mere flicker of attention. Your thoughts are guarded—not uncommon, but rare enough to be noted. A foreign mind, one not yet shaped by the Grove of Epiphany.

Interesting, perhaps. But not remarkable.

Anaxagoras continues his lecture, brushing you off as just another scholar passing through his world.

The second time he notices you, it is because you are watching him.

Not unusual. Students watch him often—some with reverence, others with trepidation. Some attempt to discern his methods, while others marvel at the way he manipulates the arcane with the ease of a sculptor shaping clay. But your gaze is different.

He meets your eyes briefly, his mind already cycling through possibilities. A challenge? No—your expression is too guarded for that. Curiosity? Perhaps. He allows himself a moment to observe, to test. Your posture, the way your fingers tighten around the notebook in your lap. A mind on the edge of inquiry, but hesitant.

When he looks away, it is because he has already determined the outcome—you will either retreat or step forward. The choice is yours.

You return.

That is when he begins to watch you in earnest.

Not because of your presence—there are many students who linger, drawn to the Grove’s vast knowledge, but the way your attention sharpens when he speaks, the way you absorb his words not as mere instruction but as something to be unraveled, understood. You are not listening out of obligation.

That is why, when he calls upon you, it is not an arbitrary selection, for he does not waste time on students who lack potential. He watches the momentary scramble of your thoughts, the way you hesitate—not out of ignorance, but out of care. And when you answer, he finds himself satisfied.

Not impressed. Not yet.

But satisfied.

You do not sit in the back after that. He does not need to look to confirm it—he knows. Your presence is closer, a ripple in the pattern of the lecture hall. He tests you again, weaving your name into the thread of discussion, shaping the tempo of the lesson around your answer without drawing attention to the fact. And each time, you meet the challenge. Not perfectly. Nowhere near flawlessly. But well.

He notes the way your pulse quickens when he acknowledges you, the way your breath hitches for just a fraction of a second before you compose yourself. It is an instinctive reaction, untrained. He wonders if you realize it. He wonders if you know that you give yourself away.

And then, another question. He watches you as you answer—not just the words, but the shape of your reasoning, the way your mind reaches for knowledge and stitches it together with careful precision. It is this, more than anything, that makes him pause.

He does not smile often.

But perhaps, just then, he does.

After the lecture, as the students disperse, he catches fragments of conversation, the murmurs of intrigue. Your name spoken in passing, your presence noted in a way that was not before. He does not interfere. He does not need to.

He has seen this pattern before. Minds that shine brightly in the endless constellation of scholars. Some burn hot and fade quickly. Others endure.

He wonders which you will be.

taglist: @starglitterz @kazumist @naraven @cozyunderworld @pinksaiyans @pearlm00n @your-sleeparalysisdem0n @francisnyx @qwnelisa @chessitune @leafythat

(send an ask or comment to be added!)

[kseniyagreen]

I already have one big fanfic project and don't have time for others, but all these moments of dancing around censorship make me think about one idea.

And maybe someone will find this idea interesting.

That this drama would be a great fit for an AU in the style of the k-drama "Extraordinary you". Where the manga characters begin to gain self-awareness and fighting with their plot.

Imagine a classic hetero fantasy drama. Where Zhuo Yichen is assigned the role of "a good third wheel guy who must become an instrument of tragedy for the main characters in the finale." But he begins to gain consciousness and free will, falls in love with the ml not the fl, tries to change the plot.

And he remembers "past lives" - how in previous stories by this author he and Zhao Yuanzhou were friends, enemies, rivals. An emperor who is losing his mind and his faithful guard. A young prince and his mentor. Different stories, in each of which they woke up at the very end and realized that they loved each other, but they still had to play out the plot to a tragic end...

This time, Zhuo Yichen woke up earlier and tries to wake up the others. (Somewhere in the middle of the story, it turns out that sister Pei woke up earlier than Zhuo Yichen, she just didn't make a big deal about it).

I want a happy ending and lots of funny moments when the characters go wild in between scripted "scenes".

[flying-fangirls]

Assigning Malevolent characters their favorite Shakespeare plays because I can

John: As You Like It, but Twelfth Night is a close second. Either way, he's here for the music, fun vibes, big displays of platonic/romantic love, sappy happy endings, and genderqueer shenanigans. It just depends if he wants the pastoral vibes or city vibes more

Arthur: cheat answer is the Sonnets, because he'd eat all those existential questions about legacy/death up. But if he had to give a play, it'd be Winter's Tale. He likes how eclectic and dramatic/sappy it is, and the father-daughter plot of Leontes and Perdita gives him some thoughts™

Noel: Hamlet, but he's drawn more towards Ophelia than anyone else. Obviously he's still drawn to Hamlet's whole thing and that's what he tells other people, but secretly Ophelia's lack of agency and particular experience with grief hits much closer to home for him

Bella: Othello, big time. She'd probably appreciate all the scheming, but she is definitely most compelled by Desdemona and Emilia's stories, and their explorations/discussions of female agency

Larson: King Lear (said with all due disrespect). He 100% feels a sympathy for Lear, seeing as they're both a bit too comfortable sacrificing daughters for personal desires

The Butcher: He'd tell other people it's Titus Andronicus because of all the indulgent gore/sadism, but his real answer is Romeo and Juliet. He enjoys the blend of pretty sentimentality and bloody violence

Oscar: A Midsummer Night's Dream. He appreciates seeing all sorts of different people get their "perfect" ending and find love/success at the end of the day, especially when they had little to no hope for joy at the beginning

[damthosefandoms]

been thinking a lot about cherrycola who were friends in early elementary school because they didn’t know about the “great tulsa divide” yet and soda was just a silly chatterbox who couldn’t read or write very good and cherry was a real bright little girl who didn’t like getting in trouble but loved helping her classmates—her friends—and they used to end up always sitting next to each other in their classes every year and it was great for a while, until they grew up. and anyway here’s a little wip from something I’m writing about that:

———

“You write pretty good for a soc,” Soda comments later that day, as they work on their short stories. The assignment was to write five chapters, each at least two paragraphs long, about an animal of their choice. His is about a horse that runs a little slower than all of its friends, but makes up for it by being such a great friend. Cherry’s story is about a cat who wants to be friends with a dog. They have to read each other’s stories today, then edit and revise them with a partner.

(Well, now there’s one group of three, since Dally hasn’t returned from the office yet, but that isn’t Soda’s problem.)

Soda and Cherry work together as usual, being desk-partners and all, and he’s about a paragraph into her story when he decides to bring it up. He can see all the red pen she’s covered his own notebook in, and he wants to get ahead of it, change the focus to her before she can point out his mistakes. It’s only because it’s been on his mind all day it kind of just slips out.

“You write pretty good, for a soc.”

“For a what?”

Cherry’s green eyes blink at him and he wonders why it has to be green that people associate with the word go. Like, sometimes it feels as if he can just say anything to Cherry Valance, like he can just get away with it. He can’t. He should know better.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean—”

“No, I heard what you said. Sodapop, come on. That whole thing is so silly. I thought you knew that.”

He opens his mouth to respond, to say it’s not, that he’s seen firsthand as they’ve gotten older how different their lives really are. How she couldn’t laugh at Dally causing serious trouble. How he can’t laugh when he hears kids who he knows Cherry hangs out with telling Two-Bit to go back where he came from, as if he wasn’t born on the same cursed East Tulsa soil as Sodapop and his brothers were.

She’d never say anything like that; but then again, what does Soda know? He only sees her at school. Outside of that, they don’t exactly hang around the same playgrounds. He bets the swingsets in her neighborhood aren’t broken or have the chains wrapped around the top bar.

So he just shrugs. He glances at the chalkboard, where their teacher’s cursive twists and turns in front of his eyes, the same way the butterflies in his stomach are doing gymnastics right now. He tries to remember how they were supposed to phrase their peer-review comments and questions.

“I guess so. Sorry. Uh, I was curious about the part in your story where—”

“My story’s fine,” Cherry snaps, and she pulls it away from him. “You wouldn’t get it anyway.”

She’s blushing like she’s embarrassed, and Soda doesn’t understand why. He hasn’t even finished reading yet. He thought it was so interesting, how the other cats wanted the main character to stick with her own friends, but she wanted more. She wants to be friends with everyone, dogs, cats, rabbits, whatever. Soda might not be the best reader but he thinks Ponyboy would’ve loved it.

Heck, he loves it so far. It just doesn’t seem realistic, but that’s why they’re writing fiction stories, isn’t it?

[whitehairandtraumatized-bracket]

White Hair and Trauma Preliminary 8: Ace Attorney

Simon had 3 submissions, Enoch had one submission

trauma and propaganda under the cut!

Trauma!

Simon: “Simon is learning analytical psychology under Metis Cykes at the Space Center, while working on a case of The Phantom. One day once he finally got a lead, he finds Metis dead with her 11 year old daughter (Athena) covered in blood trying to fix her with Metis's robot fixing machine. He then smuggled Athena out of the building and took the blame for the murder. He was then imprisoned for 7 years. Then while still imprisoned he was allowed to return to prosecuting under the supervision of Detective Bobby Fullbright who he starts to get along with, only to learn that Fullbright was dead and that he was actually the Phantom who had killed his mentor.”

“My guy saw his mentor (Metis)'s corpse and right next to her daughter who very happily explained that mentor was "broken" and that she was going to "fix" her by ripping her body apart and putting it back together like you would with a robot. Simon didn't want the little girl to be found guilty of murdering Metis, despite the fact that it everything indicated that she did and he internally believed it as well. So to protect her, he confessed to murdering Metis, and was given the DEATH PENALTY for it. He got his white streak from the stress of being in prison and on death row for 7 years, while simultaneously trying to take to the grave what he witnessed that day. Oh did I mention that he feels responsible for Metis's death, because she was assisting him in tracking down a spy and got the singular piece of evidence towards this spy's identity? And he later learns it was this exact spy who murdered her to protect their identity—and also framed the little girl from before for a completely different murder they did, potentially rendering his sacrifice moot?”

“His mentor got assassinated when she helped him track an international spy, and he spent seven years in prison because he didn't want her daughter (who was eleven at the time) to be accused. Then, when he regained the right to prosecute even as a convict, the officer he was assigned to turned out to be the same spy who'd ruined his life.”

Enoch: Enoch was a genius science student who moonlit as a graverobber to afford staying in university. One night he witnesses a (supposedly) executed serial killer crawl out of his grave, and his hair turns white from terror.

Propaganda!

Simon:

He is able to slice people down with a feather and HE HAS A PET HAWK THAT HE WILL USE TO ATTACK PEOPLE AND ALSO BUY GROCERIES. He also helps one of the main characters calm down when she has a mental breakdown bc he may be a deathrow inmate, but he cares so much <3

He has a hawk

Enoch: In a series where characters having white or pink or purple hair isn’t rare, Enoch’s long white hair at first just evokes a cold, stylish feeling, suiting his grim look and mechanical mannerisms. It’s a twist when it’s actually explained as a result of trauma and that he’s secretly a tragic figure.

[catsconflictscopicsandchamomile]

ALSO- if you are STILL GOING INTO THIS WITH PLANS TO SOMEHOW MAKE IT AN SPN AU/CONTINUATION, THERE IS A CENTRAL THEMATIC ELEMENT YOU NEED TO KNOW:

The Boys is, in terms of folkloric/mythic/relgious elements, a show about two things:

Right-Wing Christian Apocalypticism

and ROME.

As spn fans we are used to the first of these, and concepts like angels, demons, Lucifer, the Antichrist, Azazel, and even the Second Coming (hi Marie, you're doing amazing sweetie) are going to be obvious

however the Rome stuff takes some getting used to. Lots of marble busts, multiple deities, every different aspect and facet of warfare and empire seemingly has its own Absolutely Horrid Guy assigned to it, some gods are named for/clearly embody certain concepts, seasonal deities whose associated months have changed but are otherwise just the same, characters going on weird long-winded rambles about Rome, etc etc

also sometimes BLATANTLY Fae stuff happens, just roll with it

here are the three things I think spn fans should consume before The Boys s5 (aside from, yknow, The Boys S1-4) (and mayyyybe a wikipedia-level understanding of Roman seasonal & Military gods)

The Boys: GEN V. I'm not even going to try to put how spncore a certain character is into words. Also the writers clearly are on the younger side bc they threw in some "easter eggs", in the cruelest possible sense of the term, to two specific beloved mid-late-2000s/early-2010s YA fantasy series, and all of said easter eggs will hit you like a ton of bricks in the gut. They got ACTUAL VOICE ACTOR JASON RITTER to cameo. AS HIMSELF. That is not the craziest part of what they did re: Jason Ritter. Yall are going to need shock blankets. Also season 2 of GEN V is expected sometime this year, and what few details we've had have been almost entirely doubling down on the Easter Egg Insanity.

The Winchesters ep. 4. look, objectively the writing of this first half of the show sucks. If you have PTSD and/or bad experiences with therapy, the first half of this ep is going to be massively triggering, so maybe skip to the halfway point. However, if you want to combine The Boys and SPN, this is the loredump you need.

This last one is a bit odd, but if you are able to, reread Revelations- straight out of the Bible- and then look up some scholarship on how many of Revelations' weirder parts were originally veiled allusions to Rome that were stragetically deemed "unknowable divine symbolism" once the empire Christianized. Not only is it utterly fascinating on its own, but this is more or less what The Boys is about

....watch those, if you really want to research you can watch any spn eps featuring Rome, aother Pagan gods and/or the Fae, and you're set.

If you are losing your mind at the possibilities of the Misha Collins on The Boys S5 news (I think the JPad appearance was already in discussions previously), and you haven't seen The Boys I think there's some context non-viewers need to know. Whether it be before they start watching the show as a whole, or if they plan to speculate or watch clips when S5 airs.

I cannot under-stress how this is this is the most deranged show I have ever seen.

To that point (and these are just some spoiler-y highlights):

I don't say "most deranged show I've ever seen on tv", not just because it's on Amazon. This show could never air on cable tv, unless it was edited beyond recognition.

Sure, it'll throw you one-off insane sight gags, like Butcher brandishing a baby with laser vision to laser their attackers to death. It also will go for long-run arcs you'd never see on network tv, like the Aquaman-type's multiple season, bestiality-arc, which isn't relegated to just one type of sea life.

Speaking of sea life - PETA was outraged by this show a few years back when one character was shown eating a living octopus on camera. This show has about an average of 1 violent crime to sea life per season.

I'm not actually sure any of our heroes have made it through an entire episode without being covered in blood at some point. If they have, then they have probably experienced or stumbled into some uncomfortable sexual experience.

This show has basically no qualms showing the amount of kinky shit people with unique powers, near-indestructible bodies, and almost no moral qualms will get up to.

I strongly recommend against drinking milk at any point while you watch this show. You will probably regret it.

You think live bees and real glass from SPN are bad? This show had an episode take place predominantly at an orgy. It was filmed while Covid was going strong, so people kept thinking they were grabbing hand sanitizer, and they actually had squirted lube on their hands because there was so many bottles of both everywhere.

To be clear, the orgy itself served mostly the purpose of a comics callback, and happened mainly in the background while our main characters acted. It was also inexplicably the emotional crux of the season.

Jensen Ackles will do some of the best nuanced acting with micro expressions you've seen talking about his toxic relationship with his father. This will be preceded by an episode where he's found jerking off while insisting he needs more lube to fuck the elderly women masturbating on the bed behind him.

Kripke will not hesitate to make allusions to SPN in the worst way. One of the first scenes our heroes talk with Ackles's character, he's classic Dean, eating takeout in a hotel room, and sure, he's drinking some liquor. But at the same time, he's making racist/sexist comments and crushing up pills with a giant hunting knife so he can snort them.

Kripke tends to be particularly cruel to former SPN actors - On the spin-off show Gen V, one of them had his dick exploded. And on this most recent season of The Boys, he had the actor who played Chuck/God, use his superpowers to pleasure himself naked onscreen and then his character was murdered multiple times over. They made at least two references to his SPN role too, from walking in on him saying "my god" in French, to saying he was up in heaven pleasuring himself now.

I could keep going and going with examples and probably never run out. But here's my point.

This is one of the best satires I've ever seen. It's sharp and outrageously funny, and so timely. But it's also the best show I can never recommend to anyone if I'm not sure they're a little bit of a terrible person, too.

So yes, we might get sort sort of AU Destiel onscreen. We'll almost certainly get more SPN references than we ever wanted.

But if you think for one second that Kripke isn't also going to put Jared and/or Misha in the most uncomfortable scenes that you can imagine (or more likely, the ones you can't), think again.

And that in all reality, as much as we speculate, it's likely none of us are ready for what we're actually going to get onscreen.

[dyad-of-fate]

I'm probably gonna stop making official designs at this point, this story is fluidly changing protagonists at this point lol.

This is Lux, you'll probably see them a lot. Their design is fun.

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

Vibes based grading system.

(for @epistemologys, who wanted some post-canon, teacher WWX)

[xxplastic-cubexx]

Marvel Meow (2021), Nao Fuji | Professor X and Magneto

Bonus:

[jezuschristsuperstar]

To be honest I feel like it’s a little more complex than that. There is resentment there, but not necessarily because they don’t consider him as family- but because of the unfortunate role Richie played in Mikey’s demise (even if he didn’t intend to)

First off, Richie was an enabler. It’s quite the unfortunate fact. Of course he cared for Mikey- he was his friend, someone he loved and respected. But he’s was an enabler. We hear bits and pieces of this scattered throughout the show. They both indulged in destructive behaviours but kept on trying to reason with themselves that it was fine because they were having fun and spending time together (at least on his end). And we see him being hit with the reality that those things were harmful when he goes on a date and she asks him what they were doing at a bar at 5 am in the morning.

Beyond their youth, Richie is the one who has spent the most time with Mikey. They grew up together. Ran a business together. They know each other as both friends and family- despite being an outsider, he knows him better than Nat and Carm cause there is this added element of friendship (sometimes your friends know you better than your siblings/ you have a different relationship). This was something Carmen disliked because he regarded Mikey as his best friend, until he realized that wasn’t the case. He felt like he chose Richie over him. So while they all grew up together, there are tinges of resentment because at the end of the day him and Mikey are actually related and Richie and Mikey aren’t. That’s why he holds the fact that Mikey gave him the restaurant over Richie’s head. That’s why he calls him a leech… he can’t fathom the fact that (in his head) Mikey was more of a brother to Richie than he was to him- and while there is still love there, because there is a lot left unsaid (mainly because the centre of it all is now dead) it intensely affects the dynamic between them.

On to Sugar. I understand Sugars resentment and pain and frustration and anger. As I said before, beyond their youth Richie and Mikey have been together for the longest. Richie was seeing everything that was happening to Mikey first hand. His drug problems, the money lending, the destructive tendencies, Donna- he was there for it. However (and this is my own interpretation) I feel like Richie prioritized feeling like he was a part of something and feeling as if he can fix things, over the health of his friend- and this isn’t done maliciously. The show explores loneliness. All of the main characters (especially the main three) are isolated. You can tell that Richie wants a family, and he gets that. But he also wants to continue the kinship he has had with his friend as he was there for him when he had nobody else, when nobody else understood him. He feels as he owes a lot to him, but much like what we are seeing with Carmen and Sydney, he was addressing these things the wrong way. He wasn’t paying attention. He was doing what he thought Mikey would like, and not what would’ve been best for him. And this eventually led to him losing both Mikey and Tiff. And when you remember that they were together till the end, you understand why Natalie’s first thought would be “why didn’t you do anything? Why didn’t you get him the help he needed?”. Because to Nat, he saw the signs. To Nat, he knew that he wasn’t in a good place. And deep down he knew this too.

Deep down they love him. They care for him. He is family. They have seen each other grow. But they are grappling with death here. Mikey is dead and is never coming back. He left without any explanation. Not even a tangible goodbye. He just left. And when such things happen, the people left behind now have to ask themselves what went wrong. It devolves into assigning blame onto others, or even blaming themselves (in Carmen’s nightmare sequence, we see the ticket machine printing out shit that said he killed Micheal). It is a tough time, and no one is acknowledging it properly or healthily at the moment. They open the locker with Mikey’s belongings- they briefly reminisce, but that’s it. Mikey is a ghost that haunts them. His death is affecting their relationships. And I really hope that this next season allows Richie and Carmen to finally talk about him properly once and for all.

You know, despite calling Richie "cousin", I think Mikey didn't actually consider him family.

Because at the end, he left The Beef to Carmy. His blood brother, who he never let into his restaurant, from who he kept his addiction, and hasn't talked to probably for years.

Yet Richie was with him at The Beef every day, knew how to run the restaurant, and knew about Mikey's drug use. The guy whose marriage collapsed because he prioritized supporting the Berzattos instead of his own wife. In the end, he was just a friend.

And then, Carmy, the kid with zero financial sense, tries to make another kid, Sydney, his partner in the restaurant. A kid he's known for a few short months. A partnership that requires ZERO buy-in from Sydney.

#RichieDeservesBetter

[starflungwaddledee]

from: @starflungwaddledee to: @post-it-notes7

message from santa: "happy holidays post-it-notes! 🎄🥳 i know you very politely only wished for a few modest things- characters high fiving, or struggling in christmas attire- but i hope you'll still enjoy this given that i kinda went the opposite direction entirely! i'm an enormous fan of your work and most times you post anything i wind up browsing your art tag from tip-to-tail in enraptured delight. as such, i thought it was only fair i give back something a little more significant in gratitude for all the joy your work has given me. i knew i wanted to do a comic, so i was thrilled you already had a whole storyverse for me to work from!! this scene seemed the most obvious choice (chapter 8 of "wishful thinking" on ao3) given that i enjoy a dramatic fight scene 😂 i tried to stick as beat-by-beat to the writing as i could and worked in as many details as possible; i hope it'll be fun to see it envisioned this way! merry christmas! ~starflung 🎀🔔 "

[cent-scratchnsniff]

i wish to be your shadow , forever behind you , even if i am not good enough

plus some extra. they are quite literally metal boxes. i wonder how large they are in actually. im assuming human size? i also never realized just how complicated hokma's was.. i think its all the gears

[mamawasatesttube]

the thing about kon-el is that. more people should read kon comics (konmics, if you will) (and i mean like beyond yj98). they literally have kon in them