#this is absolutely the fanfic experience oh my gods

[lovingempress]

It’s only been a few days and not only is “gaslight gatekeep Goncharov” already a recommended tag on Tumblr,

There are 225 works on AO3, with the first published work there only happening TWO DAYS AGO (Nov 19, 2022)

SOMEONE ELSE MADE A TRAILER????

Y’all are monsters (affectionate) LOL

[brionnnne]

On and off writing that SDV Fanfic and I finally got me a summary out of it. Definitely will be stucking with this one. Holy shit.

She'd live here. She'd die here. She'd waste herself away and be unhappy for All Time here. She'd rot away at her work desk, in her work clothes, with her bland, uncolored hair, found fused to her work chair, and no one would notice her absence because that was just the sort of place this was.

The city didn't care about the individual you. Joja would chew her up and spit her out and leave her remains in the gutter. Circling the drain. Found like that. Slipped through the cracks of society. Covered up. There will be one, single, impersonal word on her headstone: Diligent. 

Diligent, then dead.

[tkingfisher]

So I write all sorts of things (fiction, fanfic, screenplays) and my mind is cluttered garden of flowers and weeds and shiny ideas, and I'm wondering how to form a writing practice to clear it into tidy rows? Is it possible to shepherd untamed ideas into order?

How do you manage all your wonderful worlds, characters and inspiration and not feel haunted by the story bits and pieces in your head? Any practical tips beyond dark magic?

Thank you, you are such a constant inspiration for me, both prose and just your presence. <3

*laugh* Oh god, Nonny, if I ever find out, I’ll tell you! When you read books, you’re getting the Instagram-filtered view of a writer’s brain, all the flowers that grew out of the compost heap, carefully composed and shot in optimal lighting. The real inside of my skull is a magpie nest of Neat Shit I Read/Saw/Thought Up While Lying Awake At 2 AM. There are characters and ideas in there that I’ve been trying to get into a manuscript since I was twelve and typing on an Amiga 500.

But, that said…really, I think it’s okay. Creativity is inherently untidy. The compost heap can be corralled into a very pretty box made of sustainably harvested materials, hand-stained by traditional artisans being paid a living wage by an employee-owned company, but as soon as you lift the lid, it’s all worms and coffee grounds and old potting soil and cow shit and the vegetables you swore you were gonna eat this time before they went bad. That’s what compost is.

Nevertheless, having been in the business for…uh…fifteen years now? (@dduane is snickering at me, I can feel it) and having written nearly forty books, I can offer three bits of something less than advice. It’s what I do. It may not work for anyone else, but it’s what I do.

Un-Advice The First: If you get a shiny idea and you are super excited by it? Go ahead and chase it. Pull up a new page in Word or whatever and slap down a couple thousand words while it’s exciting. I know that this absolutely flies in the face of common wisdom, but quite frankly, my enthusiasm is a much rarer commodity than my time, so if I’m excited about something, I write it down until I’ve taken the edge off.

Then I usually save it into a big folder called “Fragments” and go back to work on whatever I’ve got a deadline on. (Usually. Sometimes the edge doesn’t wear off, and I wind up with another book. Which, y’know, darn.)

There are vast numbers of people who will tell you that a shiny idea is a sign that something is wrong with your current project and the solution is to knuckle down and work! through! it! And those people are probably right for them, and I trust they know how their own brains work. Me, though, I got ADHD like a bat has wings. My hard drive is a vast swamp of story beginnings, neat ideas, random scenes. And that’s okay because I still get books finished.

In fact, it’s better than okay. Not that long ago, my agent sent a novella to a publisher and they said “We’ll take that novella and three more novels. What’ve you got?” And I ended up plundering my hard drive and sending the editor a good dozen random beginnings until we found one that we both liked, and then I wrote the rest of that book. And then another one. If I hadn’t had all those fragments lying around, though, it would have been a miserable experience of writing book pitches and trying to think of stuff I could get excited about. (This may not be how some editors work, but it’s how my editor and I work, anyhow.)

Un-Advice The Second: Trust that everything will find a home eventually.

This one is easy to say and hard to do because sometimes you get that overload that if you’re writing the book about, say, werebear nuns, you aren’t writing the one about the alien crustaceans. Or worse, you feel guilty. If you don’t use that one cool thing, was all that time you spent on it wasted?

Breathe. Be easy. Every single cool thing does not need to go into a single book. There is no sell-by date on the neat character. You will probably write many books in your life and all those random characters will find a home. (Seriously, the werebear nuns were lurking for like a decade.)

For me, at least, when I find the spot where something fits, it often snaps into place like a Lego. Easton’s backstory as a soldier from a society where soldiers were a third sex had been kicking around in my head for a few years, derived from about three different sources, and then I wrote the opening to What Moves The Dead and all of a sudden Easton was there and alive and they had strong opinions about everything and I had ten thousand words practically before I turned around.

You can also stave off guilt by writing some of your ideas in as highly personal Easter Eggs. A couple of my books have references to a white deer woman, a heroic deed done by a saint and the ghost of a bird, and a woman with dozens of hummingbirds on tiny jeweled leashes. Those are all characters and stories I’ve had vague notions about, but haven’t managed to work in anywhere or learn much more about. Still, the passing reference is enough to make me feel like I haven’t abandoned them.

(The advantage to this is that once you DO write those in, the readers are all “oh my god, she foreshadowed this a decade ago, she must have planned this all out in advance!” Then you look really clever and well-organized and no one has to know that you have no idea what you’re doing.)

Un-Advice The Third: Write the kitchen sink book.

At one point, I had so many stray ideas that hadn’t gotten into a book yet—the tree of frogs, the dog-soldiers, the stained glass saint, the albatross and the shadow of the sun, and also I wanted to write something with Baba Yaga—that I hauled off and wrote a book where I just put in everything and the kitchen sink. It’s called Summer in Orcus. There are bits in there that I had been cooking in the mental compost heap for decades, but that weren’t enough on their own to sustain a whole book. The phrase “antelope women are not to be trusted” showed up in my head some time in college. It’s a fun little book and I’m proud of it, but it’s very much a patchwork quilt of weirdness. But it’s also written so that if later on, an antelope woman shows up in another book in another context, that just adds to their mythology, it doesn’t break canon or whatever.

(Pretty sure I’m not the only one who has done this, either. China Mieville has said that he wrote Perdido Street Station because what he really enjoyed was writing all the weird monsters.)

So yeah, that’s my advice, for what it’s worth. Some days I just tell all the fragments and ideas that I promise that I’ll get them a home eventually but I need to write this thing here now. Sometimes I throw down enough words to get the story stabilized and then I’m okay to move on. Sometimes I write multiple books simultaneously.

Any method you use to write the book, so long as it doesn’t hurt you or anyone else, is a perfectly valid method. If anyone tells you different, you send them to me.

(…god, I hope that was the question you were actually asking, Nonny, and that I didn’t go off on a completely different tangent when you just wanted to know how I keep track of a plot or something.)

[sweetestbasil]

RUBATOSIS || chapter one: self digestion

PAIRING : Dr.Gaul's Assistant!Coriolanus Snow x Experiment!Reader-Insert ( afab, they / them, sometimes it )

RATING : 18+ ( no smut in this chapter, but it's very unsettling )

WORD COUNT : 13, 776

WARNINGS : infidelity ( coryo's engaged to livia ), power imbalance, unreliable narrator ( it's 3rd POV but focuses on coryo's view ), unhealthy dynamics, dehumanizing language, medical experimentation, body examination that has... strange vibes, body horror-esque, coryo and gaul are messed up in this fic, he's more like his book version than movie

SUMMARY : 🙶 rubatosis - noun. the unsettling awareness of your own heartbeat 🙷

Fortune, marriage, and success - all within the hands of Coriolanus Snow, and it still isn’t enough to satisfy him. Tigris has grown distant and Livia is far more trouble than it's worth. 

Dr. Gaul has just the solution for him.

A/N : This is my first time posting my fanfic work on tumblr, so I hope everyone has fun reading this. If there are any mistakes, lemme know. This is the first of five chapters!

[ If you want to read it on AO3 instead ]

self digestion || autolysis - stage one of decomposition 

Oh, he hated this. 

He absolutely despised this.

A click of the soles, stepping against the freshly clean sidewalk, rid of any possible careless litter and debris. Had it not been for others who, too, were using the same path, even if they were going in opposite directions, had he half a mind, Coriolanus would have taken the moment to prop himself against a wall and let out the loudest sound of frustration. It wouldn’t be unwarranted, it wouldn’t be uncalled for. Dare he say, he almost feels he should be entitled to it. It had only been four days, but four days should have been enough time for Tigris to get back to him already. The correspondence was not even something of dire content, at least, Coriolanus imagined so. Questions of Grandma’am, if her time with Mrs. Plinth ( he was not going to refer to her as ‘Ma Plinth’ ) had been going well, how was the solo business venture regarding Tigris’s fashion going, was there any renovations that the home needed, how were they — things that he assumed, wrongly he guessed, that would be so simple to answer. 

God forbid that he still had the decency to still check in with his family even after he long moved out into his own place. 

If Tigris thought she could play him for a fool, she was the one in the wrong; the signs were as clear as can be, that Tigris was trying to ice him out as much as she could. And after all he’s worked hard for? Fixing the home up, making sure the fridge never stays empty, stabilizing the family. He’s even gotten engaged before Grandma’am could even croak, and is letting Tigris design his fiancé’s wedding gown! What else was he supposed to do to try and gain back her warmth? Dance and clap like a District to make himself seem smaller, more dumb, to please her? There was a lock to his jaw, a small grit in Coriolanus’s teeth, as he sipped down the coffee in his hand, the other in his coat pocket. 

He didn’t even wish to broach the idea of his fiancé on his walk to the Citadel. The heavy breath, a sigh, that breached itself out his lips. A hand raised to rub a gloved thumb briefly at the bridge of his nose. 

Ugh, Livia… It was a pain to even internally taste the words of her name on his tongue. 

It was an arranged marriage of convenience that he sought after, an extra piggy bank that he could expend on; and how quickly the elder Cardews lapped up at his palm when he planted the idea of marrying their daughter. A man who was of the old guard elite families, an assistant of Dr. Gaul’s, inheritor of the Plinth’s fortune, a gamemaker in training? They were downright salivating, that he almost felt embarrassed for Livia having to witness her parents’ stripped to their barest of greeds. The keyword being almost. Coriolanus needed to play his cards right to ensure his future, it was only fair game. If that meant taking his chance with the Cardews’ and their banks, he’d be just the fool that Tigris would want him to be if he turned them away. But, he could reluctantly suppose that the arrangement could be considered an equal drain on both parties. He seized their assets and their daughter seized up his free time. How could he forget the fundraiser dinner that Livia had invited them both to later on in the evening? She was delightful enough to remind him of it while they shared breakfast together, between his bites of quiche so that he couldn’t show a hint of a frown. 

Coriolanus sucked in a careful breath between his teeth. 

If she could only put herself to better use than just the one redeeming quality of a socialite. There was a slim chance he may have miscalculated. Perhaps it would have been an easier time, having something set up with Clemensia, or Lysistrata. 

“Mr. Snow! Good morning and welcome back, Dr. Gaul is already waiting for you in—“ 

“In Lab H05, got it! And a good morning to you, too.” He smiled back effortlessly to the front desk worker, giving them a wave and just the right, charming amount of teeth with the upwards pull of his mouth. 

Entering into the Citadel and seeing the hive of workers shift from one place to another in constant movement; they all tried to keep their voices at a low volume, but there was a constant buzz in the air, as they went from one hall to the other. Coriolanus maneuvered himself around them, slipping his deep mahogany overcoat seamlessly folded across his forearm. Full-Grain leather gloves that kept him warm from the cold, taken off his hands and instead placed neatly into the pocket of his overcoat. What a marvel it would have been for his young, naïve self to bear witness the luxury of a full wardrobe he now had. Never again did he have to spend long nights studying for the Academy besides an equally tired Tigris, who busied herself with trimming down the sizes of his father’s discarded shirts to fit him for school the next day. 

It was a muscle memory at this point, the path to one of the many labs that Dr. Gaul had established her practice in. She had told Coriolanus that she had a lab for each different study and project she was passionate towards, ones that were more… presentable, to the average Capital citizen, and ones that were more uncensored. Having worked for over a year under Dr. Gaul’s tutelage, Coriolanus had seen a decent amount, the clean and the vile, but even then, he knew very well he had not seen all. He wasn’t even sure if he did want to see all. Especially regarding what happened last time he wandered around the Citadel during Academy days. The doors to Lab H05 were wide open, Coriolanus noted, seeing it in his line of sight, getting closer and closer. It was inviting, telling any worker to come in and step in at any time ( should Dr. Gaul be around ). 

The air here was entirely different from what it was in the hallway. Where the air from when he first entered had been warm, inviting from the nipping cold outside. The vague smell of coffee, and an even fainter scent of something chemical, had mingled and intertwined to give the vaguest illusion that the Citadel could pass for a workplace like any other. However, the lab was as if entering an entirely different building. The lights that shone uncomfortably glaring, fluorescent lights that were hung overhead, on the ceiling. There were small lights, embedded into the floors and columns as well, guiding the path to any who walked in. It drowned the large room in an almost blue light. Lab H05 was one of the “clean” labs. A sterile scent in the air, the chemicals that were so faint in the halls were far more prominent, evident here. But, to the trained nose, there was something faint here too. The rusted scent of iron tickled under Coriolanus’s nose, but it barely registered to him anymore as anything concerning. Seeing the endless shelves of… odd specimens, the scent of blood was the last thing that should ever scare him away. 

“Dr. Gaul, good morning,” He kept a steady tone, not one that sounded tired, nor too joyous. Being seen as her “favorite” didn’t mean he could speak to her as casually as he pleased. It just meant that he took her current attention. A fickle thing that could be stripped away at any moment if he showed any less than acceptable. 

“Coryo,” He tensed his shoulders the same time she breathed it out in loving fashion. Her back once facing him, now turned as she walks towards him to cut the distance between the two. Since the gap started to form between Tigris and him, Dr. Gaul had taken to using that nickname on him. If it was to be used in terms of endearing him to her, or to mock him with the name that ghosts had called him, none could say for sure.

Coriolanus liked to believe it to be both, if he believed his assumptions of her character were right.

He never once let his eyes leave contact with her own, but he could hear the movement of her prominent, red latex gloves being peeled off her hands. She always thought it to be ironic, to wear such a color despite her profession. It matched the dye job that she had done on her surgical gown. He felt the weight of hands touching either side of his forearms, the smile on Dr. Gaul’s face caused a crinkle in her eyes as she bared all teeth in her smile. He wondered if she knew how threatening her grin looked.

“A morning to you as well. Has it been treating you good?”  

It felt as if some sort of warm feeling was spreading out from Dr. Gaul’s hands, through his arms and into his body. What a disgusting sensation, it made goosebumps rise on his skin. 

“As well as it could be.” Coriolanus’s voice spoke softly. 

Livia drained his energy far more than he expected with her morning rambles and gossip. 

Dr. Gaul’s hands smacked against his arms in a laugh, loud and knowing, she always knew, turning around to walk deeper in the lab. “Hah! By the sounds of it, it seems you’re not getting some peace of mind when you head home,” She turned back to look at him, giving him a glance, she was prying something out of him. “That’s no good, Coryo. You need to be in top shape to work, I can’t have my assistant become so… drained.” 

The crease in her eyes showed again. 

“If this is your preferred state, there is a new species of leeches I am working on. I assure you it is far more efficient than a Cardew of species.”

Well, now it was his turn to laugh. 

A dry chuckle that slipped from Coriolanus’s lips, moving to follow Dr. Gaul. Placing his coat on a table made of rich wood, something less… aseptic looking. There were moments where he often froze under the woman’s gaze; a humiliating, bodily reaction that made him feel so small, so vulnerable as he used to be. Yet, it was in times like these, where he could understand how Dr. Gaul still managed to hold sway over people besides just exemplary displays of fear and power. There was a sense of humor to her, if he could call it that, where if a powerful woman like her involved yourself in - you felt so included, special. 

“It was nothing like that. Livia just reminded me that after work today, she and I have to attend dinner later in the evening. It’s a fundraiser for the improvement and reconstruction of the Corso.” He turned his sight away from Dr. Gaul’s eyes, not being able to keep the contact any more. Flicking to the sight of the endless, bright shelves that lit up the tubes containing various specimens and experiments. Some failures, some on pauses, some successes, and some were just creative ‘what-ifs’; that would explain some of the seemingly useless fusions, like the jellyfish that had spider legs mixed in with some of its natural lappets, now encased in a resin tube. Coriolanus can’t recall if he was employed at the Citadel yet when this specimen was made. His fingers briefly touched upon the cool glass of it. What a disgusting idea. “I almost nearly forgot about it.” Dr. Gaul hummed at his response. 

“Why, doesn’t that sound riveting! What a joy young life is, flitting from one function to the other, all the night-time glamor. You know, before I was transferred to work in the Citadel, I was the same. I thought of giving my children some of my old wardrobe from my youth, but it’s so out of the current trends, it just collects dust now.” What a blessing, for her kids. They could avoid the embarrassment of coming into the room looking as if they robbed the Pre-Dark Days exhibit at the Capital’s museum. The heels of Dr. Gaul’s heels clicked against the smooth, waxed floor. Coriolanus could feel the brief sliver of her heavy presence pass him by from behind, as she went to head over to another area in the room. It sounded vaguely close to the center of it. 

“You must be excited, Coryo. Are you going to wear,” Her words paused. She was tasting the air for something. “Ah, what’s her name… That cousin of yours, the one who started her new business a while ago.”

What was the point of this conversation?

“Tigris.” 

A brief flare tickled behind his ribs, reminding him of his thoughts earlier before. Standing up from his spot, fingers now leaving the glass of the odd ( sickening ) creature, his prints left slightly behind on the glass. Stretching his shoulders back with his arms, muscles pulled, away from their previously hunched position. Coriolanus walked over to where Dr. Gaul was, who stood nearby another table at the center of the lab. This time, this one was far cleaner, made of what seemed to be a material of stainless steel. In her hands she carried a manila folder, or two, in her hands; her painted nails sifted through the papers carefully. She was writing something quickly down inside of it. He wanted to know, but he held his tongue. Gaul would tell him if it was something he needed to be aware of. 

“And I’m not sure. Livia is still picking out her dress and I want to match with her.” He smiled at her. 

“Aren’t you a romantic,” She gives him a look out of the corner of her eye, the blue one that matched his. It made his skin crawl, he hated the feeling of it. “Is your heart melting, Snow?”

Coriolanus hopes she sticks to her career as a Gamemaker, being a comedian looks like a bleak future for her. 

The smile on his lips grew wider, a small laugh at her words, his hand reaching to cover his mouth slightly to muffle the sound in the large room. 

“I wouldn’t say that just yet.” 

He wouldn’t say it at all. Livia? Melt his heart? Sure, she could melt his eardrums when she had that obnoxious snort to her loud laughs. It made her sound like a pig, shipped straight to the Capital from the farms of District 10. That would defeat the purpose of why he married her in the first place. It would be the utmost betrayal to himself, after he had promised to close himself after– 

“Since you have a date tonight,” His ears perked up immediately. “I’ll reduce the amount of work you have for today, I’ll be merciful.” He wouldn’t argue if she decided to give him more. She pressed a manila folder into his open hands, her grip was tight on it. This was a folder that not many eyes needed to be on. Taking it carefully from her hands, he raised it to his eyesight curiously, catching the sight of the project name written on top of it. 

PROJECT: CAPTIVE – A.01 PROMETHEUS 

Coriolanus brought his gaze back towards Dr. Gaul. He assumed he slipped a confused gaze at her, because before he could even ask her, she’s already speaking up:

“This is a project I had started around the time you were exiled in District 12.” 

His jaw slightly tightened. She didn’t have to use that exact word to describe it. 

“It’s far more… unique,” Her eyes rolled around the room as she sought out the word, the moment it landed on her tongue, she locked her sight immediately onto him. Gaul’s smile pulled a bit more at her cheeks, a festering excitement that was slipping out from her internal confines. The threat of teeth in her smile was no longer an attempt of niceties, but far more sinister in its intentions. Coriolanus would argue on a good day that both were the same, that Dr. Gaul’s cruelty was her being kind. “Than my other projects. Far more different than any of my other muttations, this is a beast of a different breed, but one that you and I know intimately well.”

 So this was a human experimentation, Coriolanus deduced. 

Dr. Gaul would never dare to refer to those below Capital ranks as something human, there was always something else she had to refer to them by. Animal, beast, plague, insect, if it stripped them of their humanity, she was eager to take it. They shared similar sentiments, but sometimes, he had to give them some form of distinct name to separate them. “I’ve actually grown quite fond of it. Usually, I’d handle its tests and exams, but you seem like you need a pick-me-up.” 

It should make him disgusted at how easily she could see through him. 

The older woman stepped further away from him, into one of the dark recesses of the room. Lab H05 was one of the main center labs within the Citadel, meaning it earned itself the privilege to have its layout be connected to other rooms, outside areas, halls, and the like. It just happened to be, the darker areas that Gaul was heading in were towards the direction of one of the elevators connected to the room. Coriolanus watched her body retreat into the dimly lit area, not quite following after her. He didn’t know why. His hands felt stiff with the folder in his hands. The pounding beat of his heart in his ears matched in tempo with the steps of her heels against the floor. If he was going to move, she was going to need to ask him. She knew too, the doctor knew her own footsteps, and she was very aware when others’ joined in. Turning around to look at where he still was, standing, watching, she looked back at him. Coriolanus could make out her faint silhouette in the dark, but Dr. Gaul’s blue eyes shone brighter in the dark. As if she had tapetum lucidum, how it reflected so wildly. She was not helping the rumors made against her, that questioned if she ever used herself for a subject of fascination. 

“Come now, Coryo. You don’t want to waste time.”

A silence fell upon them both. 

“Understood, I’m right behind you.”

Walking after her, Coriolanus descended the small set of stairs that she had gone down from, he stepped into the dimly lit area. The manila folder was still grasped tightly in his one hand, at his side. He didn’t understand it, he didn’t understand her. Yes, she said that she wanted to cheer him up, but he’d be a fool if he was to believe that’d was to be the only reason why she was doing this. Volumnia Gaul, telling confidential secrets because she cared for his well being? No, there was always something else. An ulterior motive she wished to serve, or a lesson she wanted to teach. When he was brought back from his sentence of being a peacekeeper, it was not because her heart broke over him. She was not weeping at him having to tread his feet into the muck and grime of District 12. It was because she was holding him up to an ambition that both him and her both wished to see. 

“This one,” Dr. Gaul started her words, occasionally turning her head to the side to make sure he was still following her ( he was ). “Started out as a simple curiosity. I had to sit with myself quite a bit to figure out a punishment that would actually serve some productivity.” Her hands reached behind her, flicking at the folder that Coriolanus was holding. He opened up the folder, finally, to look through the report. Whatever the Doctor was gesturing vaguely in conversation, it would be more explicit in her writings. “Displays of cadavers, desecration of the human silhouette, trauma to the cerebrum, these punishments can only go for so long before new ideas must be made. If the rebels expect the same disciplinary action, you can expect them to gain a tolerance to it.”

Squinting at the paper, he leaned his head slightly down to get a closer look of the subject. A small photo was attached to the report by a paperclip, it was a person who seemed to be in a similar age group to his. They looked clean, proper - they wore an ironed, white button up shirt under a dark vest, with unique, yet simple earrings they donned on. Pearls and tiny opals that dangled from a gold chain earring. A family heirloom, if Coriolanus had to guess. They smiled widely in the photo. Their teeth weren’t perfect, their upper cuspid was a bit more pointed in comparison to all others. 

They had once been a capital citizen, turned rebel, to… this. 

“I wanted to truly push my mind forward, and see if the impossible would truly be… well, possible.” Dr. Gaul grinned at the end of the sentence. Coriolanus lifted the photo up, after hooking his gaze unto the former for a moment. It’s a shame, he thought to himself. How pretty they are, had they not tainted their mind with childish ideas they would have continued to live in the comforts that they were so comfortably lavishing in before. He was curious as to whose family they once belonged to. A filthy curiosity enticed him, a want to digest more at the report at the risk of tuning out Gaul’s feverish ramblings. 

“Personally, I outdid myself.”

There was a small desire to curse her under his breath, the writing for the subject’s name was far too rushed and messy to read properly. Did she want him to read the report, or play word scramble? 

Dr. Gaul’s steps had stopped, the white noise of her chatter turned to silence was enough to bring his head back from the report. She stood between him and the elevator, holding her hands in front of her, folded. Peeking to the side, the button for the down level was lit up in a glow of red. Her smile widened. 

“Curiosity eating away at you, Coryo?” 

It still made his skin crawl, everytime she used that name. How frightening it was, that it also brought him a strange sense of the coldest warmth. 

“You’ve talked so vividly about them,” Not clear enough. “I want to see what makes you so excited about them.” He wants to see if they could come close to bringing him out of his frustrations. Fingers that touched the edge of the subject’s photo twitched in tempo with the small ding of the elevator. Doors opening, Dr. Gaul stepped to the side. Hands gestured, letting him know to step in first which he obliged. Yet, no other steps than his own followed him in. Coriolanus turned around, a puzzled look on his face when he noticed how Dr. Gaul was standing in the middle of the elevator’s doors. 

“Expected me to come join you? You can’t be so attached to my hip, Coryo.” She laughed, her hands reached in between her surgical gown and work attire. Pulling out a set of keys attached to her worker’s ID, she tugged a key off. Dr. Gaul dipped her body slightly in to twist at a lock that had revealed another panel of floor buttons aside from the usual floor ones. This must have been the key designated for the Citadel’s researchers and engineers. He had a private key of his own, but that was reserved for Game Makers. Still in training, but Dr. Gaul had persuaded the others to give him his own copy. “I have other things that need tending to, so you’ll have to have your fun without me.” Pushing a floor button that was labeled C09, glowing red under her touch, she gave him her key. She pressed into Coriolanus’s free palm, closing his fingers to clasp around it. 

“You can keep this one. I’ll ask for another copy.”

Was it because this one almost seemed rusted over to hell and back? Coriolanus wasn’t an idiot. He could feel the textured sensation of something that, usually, was supposed to be smooth metal. 

“Thank you, Dr. Gaul.” He spoke softly back to her. 

Dr. Gaul sent him another smile towards his way, the abominable sight of her gradually leaving his sight as the doors closed. A divide now between the both of them. 

Instantly, a breath of air was released from Coriolanus. His head reeled back, eyes closed,  leaning against the wall of the elevator. He was now by himself. Free from that imposing woman, he finally could be released from her watchful gaze. Always gauging him, examining him as if he, too, was another subject on her surgical table. Perhaps, in a strange, distant sense, he was. Which is why he likes it far more when their interactions are limited. Even if it makes him feel guilty if he hasn’t spoken to her for any prolonged amount of time. 

Another breath, he brought his head back down, eyes open. Opening his hand to where the key was held in his hand. It was frighteningly warm in his hand, most likely from when both Dr. Gaul and him held onto it. The material of the key was dark in color, rust having formed around some of the edges. Spots of dark stains marred its dull shine, it almost looks black in contrast to the key’s natural dark hue. This most definitely was blood, now dried. In his head, Coriolanus could see the vivid picture in his head: Dr. Gaul barely bothering to remove her gloves after leaving the examination room, holding the key between sticky gloves. A sneer pulled on Coriolanus’s face. He pocketed the key away. 

He wanted to focus on something else. 

The weight of the manila report at his side stuck out glaringly obvious, he still had yet to fully read through everything. His fingers were still thumbing between one of the pages, bookmarking a random place in the report. Should he wait to see the project on his own? Give himself something ‘fun’ to surprise himself with? A discomfort prickled at the hairs on his neck. No, he didn’t like surprises too much. Surprises meant no control, and no control meant chaos that wasn’t under his hand. And what more could be asked, when what he needed to know was right here. Hands flipped back open the manila folder while he waited for the elevator to finish its descent. 

On the first page, there was only one photo of the subject, before the project had started. Dr. Gaul was always so thorough, so there must have been more to see. And how he loved to be right, when the sight of more clipped on photos peeked through in between pages. He stopped at the sight of them. These had been nude, taken in what was most definitely an examination room. They must’ve been in captivity for a few days for how haggard they looked. Gleam completely gone, with only a dark emptiness seen on their face. Signs of minimal swelling on their left cheek from when they were hit by a peacekeeper when resisting arrest. Bags under the optics, suggesting either sleep deprivation or developed insomnia. His eyes lingered on the photos that took in zoomed in shots of identifiable beauty marks that were scattered around their body. One around the back of their left acromial, around the sternocleidomastoid, one on the left mammary gland, and another on the right femoral muscle. Unconsciously, his fingers traced along the edges of each photo as he examined them until they traced after the words of ink. 

The objective of the project: engaging and testing pain receptors on the subject. By use of non-licensed medication and surgical operations, the subject’s NTRK1 gene was mutated to a certain extent to gain the closest imitation to Congenital Analgesia ( while still keeping the subject alive ). If Coriolanus recalled, in his textbooks, Congenital Analgesia was a condition that always was given to a patient by a pass down from the parent. It was never really something ‘made’, or ‘given’. He could understand now why Dr. Gaul was so pleased with herself for accomplishing this feat. Curiosity was beckoning him, wanting to see more of what the report entailed. 

Pages dedicated to each operation, each test done. There were pain charts made, scales from 1 to 10, to test out the nerve receptors. Each test, the numbers on the chart went lower and lower; 10s that went to 9s, to the current lowest being a 6 for the majority of the subject’s body. The more sensitive areas, such as the frontal or the palmar of the body, were around 7 to 8 on the chart. Flipping to the back of the contents, there was a small note in Dr. Gaul’s handwriting.

Today, please take care of Project Prometheus’s nerve exams. The last surgical operation was done last month and they have just now fully recovered. Update the report by the end of today, to measure if there are any fluctuations on their pain receptors.

Sounded simple enough. If this was all he had to do today, then there was a chance he could clock out from work even earlier to give himself space before tonight’s event. A ding finally was heard from the elevator, he was here at Lab C09. Folder closed in his hands, his foot stepped out of the elevator and onto the floor. What a drastic difference Lab C09 had been in comparison to Lab H05. If it hadn’t belonged to Dr. Gaul, Coriolanus may not have been able to believe that this was an actual functioning lab. It almost seemed forgotten by the Citadel, half of the fluorescent lights not working, or blinking at different intervals. It bathed the floor in a very gray, almost vile green hue. The scent of copper and rust was far more noticeable, and the smell of medicine felt almost nauseous here. There were no grand columns in sight, and no endless amount of shelves dedicated to new specimens and ideas of creation. The floors were unkempt, specks of dirt packed into the corners of where the wall and once sleek tiles met. Occasional cracks on the floor, parts of the design broken and shattered into bits of ceramic. The halls were long, with endless doors that ( thankfully ) all were open, empty, or both. With the exception of the large corridor doors at the other end. He could make out the sight of Peacekeepers that stood on guard, near the corridor door and by the elevator entrance. 

This definitely was Dr. Gaul’s more… uncensored labs. 

Coriolanus took a few more steps into the lab and noticed the large stain of dried blood that dragged from where his feet stood, past the corridor doors. Eyebrows raised at the sight, but his eyes did not widen. Marvelous, the subject might still be rebellious. If this was to be the case, he’d be severely unimpressed. All these exams to change the NTRK1 and nothing done to affect the amygdala. 

Sloppy work here, Dr. Gaul. 

Pushing through the corridor doors, after giving the briefest of nods and acknowledgement towards the Peacekeepers, he found himself exactly where he needed to be. Entering an area that was entirely void of light, except for one thing. 

A large window glass on the other side, showing the examination room on the other side. It lit up this half of the hall, shelves of varying medicines and chemicals lined against the walls of the examination room. Surgical tools were lined up high on the wall, out of reach, not yet pulled out and placed on the side. Today there was no operation to be done. Examination lights shone overhead, and under it was the examination table where Project Prometheus sat. 

They sat down so compactly, so politely, knees folded to their chest and arms wrapped around them, their face leaned against the crevice their legs gave. The subject definitely had changed, physically, since the projects had begun. Their skin barely had the warm glow it had in their photo, had it not been for the peeks of color on their joints, he’d assume that there was no more blood rushing through their body. Their hair that once looked so well maintained, luxurious, was cut at awkward angles. Yet, it still managed to frame their face well enough. Figures, that was former Capital genes at work. Their body has taken significant damage since then. Scars of various shapes were scattered all across, bandages wrapped in some areas, and stitches that dragged around entire limbs, like their arms, thighs, feet, even one on their face. As if they were some over-played ragdoll that was patched up far too many times. There was no fight he could see from their eyes, and no anger. Was the blood on the floor halls really theirs, or did that belong to someone else?

This could not even be called anything, but a shell of a husk. 

Coriolanus stood there, watching, taking in the sight of them. It barely felt like he was breathing. And that alone irritated him. It’s like his body was trying to make itself seem smaller; as if he was somehow bothering them. He sighed out his frustration, pinching the bridge of his nose. They couldn’t even hear him from the thick glass, what would he be so concerned with? Bringing his hand back down, about to open the manila folder once again to compare their ID photo to their current state - he peeked at their form again. 

He had been noticed by it. 

His breath felt lodged in his throat, his original action now tossed to the side, as they and him both just… watched each other. Their eyes that had looked so sullen and distant before, were so focused and vigilant of him. But, they didn’t seem scared of him. Their body didn’t look tense, their expression didn’t twist into any wrinkles. What feeling was running through their body? Could they possibly feel anything? Coriolanus stepped away from the glass, slowly, and down further into the hall, to where the door of their examination room was. A peacekeeper stood guard near the heavy door, beside them a surgical gown, cap, goggles and gloves were on a hook. Excusing the other to the side, so he could reach and grab the attire to put on himself. Coriolanus questioned, as he tugged the latex rubber gloves on, if he still wanted to entertain the idea of holding their test today. Teeth grinded inside his jaw, he hated to admit weakness, but it was no lie that they unsettled him when they had stared back. 

That probably contributed to why Dr. Gaul favored the project so much, both must take joy from bringing him such unease. A sigh hissed from his teeth, as he put the surgical mask on. 

“I’ll be back out in just a moment. I’ll let you know if an emergency comes up.” 

It’ll be easy work, and then he can leave.

Opening the door, the sterile smell of the room rushed past him as the metal door was moved from its tight seal and then closed heavily behind him. Their head had moved away from where the glass window was, turned to stare at where he stood near the door, their folder still in his hands. Thinly-veiled sweat was forming inside the gloves, with the silence that fell heavy in the room. He opened the folder. 

“Good morning, Subject A01, I am–”

…? 

Did they say something? 

“...I’m sorry, did you say something?”

Another tense silence fell in the air. 

“... That isn’t my name.” Its voice was quiet, slightly hoarse but not entirely. Unexpected, considering their length of stay here. His fingers pinched tightly at one of the pages. 

“...What do you mean?” He was not going to call them by their Capital name. They had long since lost the right to use it, after rebelling against Panem. 

“Dr. Gaul calls me something else.” Coriolanus was going to kill it if they did not clarify. 

“And what does she call you?” This was the nicest tone he could muster. 

They spoke it once into the air, still looking at him with those dead eyes of theirs. Had Dr. Gaul been so fond of it to have given it an entirely new name? And they accepted and went along with it? That didn’t feel right, from what he’s examined about them so far. They were a rebel, they had fought against a Peacekeeper, they were dragged around the halls bleeding. 

And they gave up their old name?

It had shifted out of its cradled position, their legs dangled off the examination table and their arms were placed on their side. Coriolanus could see the patient gown they wore more clearly. It kicked its feet in the air idly, as it waited for his response. 

… Do they even know the situation that they’re in? 

“...Right. Well, do you know why I’m here?” 

“Not really. I’ve never met you before.” Was context clues also something it gave up while in captivity? “I know the guards, and I know Dr. Gaul. I don’t think I know about you,” They’re a prisoner, it’d be counter-intuitive if people were giving them info about every single staff member here. His mask covered the lower half of his face, but he hoped the slight shift of facial muscle was enough to convey that was trying to smile towards them. He walked further into the examination room, closer to where it sat and where the shelves of drugs and medical equipment were lined up. Their stare was burrowing holes into his back, while he shifted around, opening and closing shelves and drawers to check inside for what he needed. 

“Well, I am Dr. Gaul’s assistant. You can call me Snow,” He was not giving his first name to a former rebel. “I’m here today because Dr. Gaul is a bit busy today to handle your check-up, so I’ll be filling in her role.” Gloves shifted bottles around, turning them around to read the labels. The disinfectant, cotton swabs, tweezers, needles, rubbing alcohol, syringes, the bite-rag, marker, he had it all except the custom medicine that Dr. Gaul had made for it. In the instructions of how to construct their exam, Dr. Gaul had explicitly mentioned that they were to take specific medication, as they had helped keep it conscious at all times for operations and exams. It was needed so that they’d be able to relay the ratings, which is why Coriolanus was reading yet another prescription bottle in his hands, squinting in frustration. 

“It’s this bottle over here.” 

A delicate, scarred hand had pointed at another bottle that sat idly on the shelf. Coriolanus turned his head slightly, seeing the subject no longer on the examination table, standing behind him quietly. Not staring at him, they were entirely looking at where their hand pointed. They were only standing just a couple inches away from his body, careful not to touch him as they stood on the tips of their toes to point at the medicine. With this proximity, it was easier for him to get a closer look at them. The stitches on its body were done with thick, prominent threads; there were far more beauty marks he could pick out on their face that the photos didn’t display. The patient gown was made from a material far thinner than he expected, a visible silhouette could be seen from underneath the flimsy cloth. His mouth felt unusually dry. 

A cold chill trickled down his spine. He barely noticed them. He doesn’t even think it made a sound when it moved. 

“Careful, keep your space from me.” He spoke, a careful warning to their ears and a threatening promise on his. He didn’t want to risk being so close to them like this, he barely knew the extent of how violent the project could possibly be yet. Still, they listened, backing away from him and putting their hand back down to their side. Both it and him stared at each other again, the tense air dancing back inside the room. They looked as if they had wanted to say something, and Coriolanus, internally, felt almost violent for how demure they were being with him. It repulsed him, how it felt almost endearing if he looked at them for a second more. 

“Is something wrong?” Eventually he bit the bullet, speaking first between the two of them. He can’t bear another moment of silence with it. 

“... I don’t need a bite-rag. I don’t think I really scream much anymore.” They still had an issue with explaining context to him more, he’ll tell Dr. Gaul that needed some work lat– His jaw ticked… Why did he care about your abysmal social skills? It was a captive, it had no one to speak to other than their own captors. Pulling down their prescription from the shelf, a dark, thick liquid, he said in return: “It’s best to have it on hand, just in case you need it. Now, return back to the examination table.” For a split second, he thought he could see their gaze soften at him. Were they seriously entertaining the idea that he was being nice to them? Coriolanus just didn’t want to deal with their sounds while he worked. It’d be like trading one screaming fit for another, for when he had to go on his date with Livia later in the evening. 

They nodded, and followed his command, walking back to sit on top of it. Their body was sitting in his direction though, observing, waiting for him. Coriolanus still felt unsure about them, but… it was strange, their obedience. It made him suspicious of its intent with all this. Trailing back to the center of the examination room, he placed all the tools on a metal tray. Pulling out an exam stool from under one of the tables, he set the syringe to the cap of its prescription. He pulled the plunger of the syringe up, watching as the barrel filled up with medicine, until it sat nicely. The needle left smoothly from the cap, and a drop of the liquid dangled at the edge of it. This form of silence he liked far more better. 

“...Do you have family, Dr. Snow?” 

So close. Coriolanus flicked the needle harshly, the drop hitting somewhere else. He placed the ready syringe down, and picked up the black marker. Turning back towards them, their head rested in their palms, watching him intensely. 

“That’s none of your concern. Now please, remove your gown so we can get started on the examination.” Grabbing the stool to pull it underneath him, he got comfortable in the seat while it moved to get up. As their hands reached behind them to undo the tie around their waist first, it still spoke ( much to his chagrin ). 

“I was just wondering since Dr. Gaul usually talks whenever she comes to visit.” That explained why their throat was not as hoarse as he was expecting. Dr. Gaul was treating her trials with them as a morning brunch. “She sometimes talks about her day, or talks about her family.” They loosened the tie around their waist, the fabric more flowy around their lower body. Coriolanus stared intently, taking in the first peek of skin. Looking past the scars, despite the stitches pulling at parts of their skin, and the dented scars, their skin looked soft, malleable. They must’ve been popular on weekend nights, back then. Their hands reached up to undo the tie around their collar. Rather than watching him while he worked, it was his turn to watch them. There was that beauty mark on their left acromial. Eyes leisurely trailed back up to their fingers, the smallest note with how it fumbled around behind them to untie the flimsy string. Their movements were clumsy, in his eyes, which almost surprised him. “She likes to talk about her three kids often.”

Coriolanus looked away from their stitched fingers, confusion on his face. 

“Dr. Gaul only has two kids.” He’s seen the photos she has in her office. She has two sons, both who have gone on to have families of their own. Not once has she mentioned a third kid, Coriolanus isn’t even sure it was possible at her age. Didn’t menopause usually affect a person’s chances of getting pregnant? Maybe it was a secret child she had abandoned at the maternal ward while dropping off her resignation as an obstetrician. 

“No, she has three. She told me their names: Caius, Martius, and Coriolanus.” 

Oh. 

Oh, now that’s… 

“I see. You must be closer to Dr. Gaul than I am.” 

He didn’t know what to really say to that. There was really nothing for him to go and argue about, especially with the patient. Coriolanus couldn’t quite outright say that the third child was him, especially when he specifically told them to refer to him by his last name. And if he revealed that this was an entire lie on Dr. Gaul’s end, he wasn’t quite sure how the woman would react for doing so. It wasn’t his place, when he had no idea what Gaul had wanted to achieve. He understood the physical punishment and hypothesis being put upon Project Prometheus, but he had yet to understand where the emotional, and the mental, aspect of this punishment was. Dr. Gaul will tell him if it was needed, or he’ll figure it out based on his own conclusions. That must be one of the purposes Dr. Gaul had assigned this task to him. 

“Alright. I’m done.”

Coriolanus blinked. He didn’t even realize he lost focus on them, he let out a small exhale as he lifted himself from the exam stool, marker ready in hand. 

“Right, for the next step of this exam, I need to…” 

Words trailed off for him. 

What an entirely different view it was, from before, looking at them only from the back. From behind, it was just read to him as a large canvas of skin that had already been stained and painted on. Nothing that gave way to what person under the flesh could be. Yet, the front… There was more to regard and take note of, a far more different feeling than just having viewed from the photos alone in the reports. If he were to ignore the marks left on their body, had they stayed perfect from before, he could’ve made the argument about their body being more alluring than the average Capital citizen. That familiar, dry feeling touched his throat again. What a waste, for genes like that to be wasted on a rebel. There were more beauty marks and moles in the front, along with more stitches and scars. Coriolanus could see the surgical scars that were healing between their pectoralis major area. A curiosity rose, questioning how scarred tissue would feel under his gloves. He raised an eyebrow, as his gaze dared to move to a lower section on their body. Must be for easier mapping, that Dr. Gaul decided it was best to have their pubic area shaved clean.

“...Dr. Snow, are you okay?”

His tongue darted out to lick his dry lips under the surgical mask. 

“Fine, just thinking about Dr. Gaul’s instructions.” He was going to go insane before he could even head to the fundraiser tonight. Coriolanus reached his free hand out, hovering it over their shoulder area, guiding them to stand closer to the area between the exam table, and his stool. He took note, that despite the way their body has changed since their captivity, their body still held a warmth that radiated off from their skin. “Stand here, please. For this next step, I’ll be using this marker here to map out the different muscles and areas on your body. Are you familiar with this?”

The subject nodded, a yes from their lips. 

Good. 

The sound of the marker cap popping off filled in the lack of words on Coriolanus’s part, the black cap falling on the tiled floor and rolling off to a dark, distant corner of the room. “For today, we’ll only be focusing on the external pain chart. Meaning skin surface only,” He lifted the subject’s hair, pushing up against the subject’s head, strands that were long enough to block full access to the neck. Bringing the marker up, he pressed down the chiseled tip of alcoholic ink on the subject’s skin, making the first section of dotted lines. Writing on their skin in careful, small letters, the areas that compromised their neck; the semispinalis capitis, the levator scapulae, the rhomboid minor–

“How long have you worked for Dr. Gaul?”

Fingers nearly stumbled in drawing when the muscle stretched in movement, he lifted the marker carefully away from its skin. The idea of putting in Gaul’s suggestion box the order of a mouth gag was becoming all the more tempting to him. 

“It doesn’t concern you.” Coriolanus responded, coolly. 

He pressed the marker back down on its skin, moving himself to the anterior of its body. Between his gloved fingers, he held their chin. The muscle limp in his hands, letting him lift their chin up to show more, exposing the unfolded expanse of their skin. The project was an annoying one, but at the least,they were a pliant one. The black dotted lines drew itself across the subject’s body: the sternocleidomastoid, the sternohyoid–

“How has your day been so far, Dr. Snow?”

Would Dr. Gaul throw him to the curb if he strangled one of her projects?

Coriolanus lifted himself slightly from his leaned down angle, his fingers that once lifted its chin up, had pulled their chin back down to look at him eye to eye. Its gaze stared back at him with such emptiness, a lack of anything to be seen, no anger, no defiance, no discomfort, not even joy. His eyebrows narrowed down slightly as he took in the face that held no question to how, and what, manner he held their body in. Were they trying to please him? Make his guard drop down by asking questions, hoping that he’d become more sympathetic towards them? 

“Dr. Gaul isn’t here. You are under no requirement to attempt conversations like you’ve done with her.” He spoke, trying his best attempt at sounding sympathetic to their ears. That would be the easiest explanation. The soul of them was sucked out by Dr. Gaul forcing them into an illusion of a grotesque socialite. That’d explain away the project’s incessant speaking. 

Yet, the subject had tilted their head under his fingers. The slightest push against his grasp. 

“... Do you not like talking, Dr. Snow? Dr. Gaul always looks so happy when she’s talking.”

So they were trying to suck up to him. He locked his teeth. And to think, he was giving them a chance of redemption, by assuming that they had been conditioned to engage in meaningless conversation. Maybe he was wrong about their obedience. There was still a spark of a rebel within them regardless of their time, their experiences, in captivity. 

“I only ever see Dr. Gaul, so I got excited to see someone new. I’m sorry for upsetting you,”

They could’ve fooled him with that tone of voice. They sounded as dead as their eyes had looked. Yet, Coriolanus bit his bottom lip as the doubt touched his head; the subject’s stare, if he gazed deeply enough he felt as if he could almost make out a sullenness to them. Were they legitimately apologetic? He didn’t want to even know the answer, he just wanted to finish this job as quickly as possible. He let go of their chin, releasing it. Gloved fingers now traced the space between their shoulder and collarbone, the subject angling their neck to the other side to give him room. He brought the marker back down to their skin, more dotted lines appearing under his wake. 

“... What exactly is your relationship to Dr. Gaul, if I may ask?” He hated them, he decided. He hated how quickly they managed to rope him into this dumb small talk. It was almost audible, the sound of the subject blinking, feeling their gaze boring under the layers of his clothes. Did he say the wrong thing? Did they not want conversation? He adjusted the weight of his stance, uncomfortable under the silence the subject had unwillingly placed him in. Was he not doing what they wanted, was that not enough for them?

“Dr. Gaul is…” Their words trailed off. They were trying to find the words, unsure of what to say to him. They most likely didn’t want to try and insult her, considering her assistant was in the room with them. They don’t want to risk possibly earning more punishment. Project Prometheus may have been smarter than what he initially assumed. Coriolanus moved back to the posterior, hands trailed themselves across the subject’s shoulders, feeling, to remind him of the muscle underneath before he marked it down. Trapezius. 

“Dr. Gaul is my caretaker, I think.” 

Well isn’t that something unique. 

If the subject had decided to say captor, overseer, punisher, he wouldn’t have cared. It would’ve been honest. Caretaker? That was something different, that was something sympathetic. The thought of them turning this twisted dynamic into something heartfelt, fell sour on his tongue. It made him feel repulsion towards them. Why bother to lie? “Tell me about that.” His voice was soft, inviting the project to open themselves to him. As the marker continued to mark their skin, Coriolanus took one of its arms under his hand. The subject’s fingers twitched slightly, when he brought his hand under theirs. Their hand was not that big in comparison to his own, unable to fully fill out of his palm. The fingertips were usually the more sensitive parts, when it came to sensations. He hummed. Adductor pollicis. 

“...I’m not sure how to describe it well.” They sounded unsure. Spending this extended amount of time with them, Coriolanus could make out the slight tonal differences they had in their voice. It was very small, though. The muscles in his hands seem to slightly tense.

“Do your best for me.” 

Their fingertips, the slightly yellowed nails, tapped slightly at the latex material of his gloves. Almost as if fidgeting to gather the words, the right ones, to say to him. 

“Dr. Gaul has always been… someone there, I suppose.” Because she has to. “The guards are there too, but they don’t really notice me in the way Dr. Gaul does.” He wrote down on another part of the subject’s arm, drawing another dotted line. Brachioradialis. “Even though the tests kind of hurt, but I’m getting used to it now, she’s been the only one so far to give me a name, a birthday, check up on me, tell me about her day,” He was almost impressed at how their were trying to upsell the ‘normalcy’ of their captivity. A new name and birthday? Maybe the secret third child of Dr. Gaul wasn’t him, but actually them instead. He almost laughed aloud at the prospect of it. Coriolanus turns to the other side of their body, taking the other arm of the subject to write on after finishing the other. Biceps brachii. “That’s like a caretaker, right?” And now it was asking for his confirmation? It truly does want to appease him. He let out another hum, as if he was thinking to himself when he was going to go along with their delusions. “It sounds like Dr. Gaul cares a great deal for you.” He lied to them. 

Making his back to the anterior of the subject’s body, he stood in front of them, the subject tilting their head up to him. Project Prometheus was shorter, in comparison to him, standing at eye level against his chest. Latex touched the area of the linea alba, Coriolanus kept his gaze steady on them and they did the same. There was a silence that fell between them, but it felt so uninviting to him now that he finally had it. The subject still held their indifference, their apathy, and he wanted to know why it bothered him so much when he should like how easy of a prisoner they were being. No, there had to be something more. There was always something more. His fingers dragged down their skin, and his marker followed behind, writing down the names of the muscles he touched. The subject had moved their arms, and Coriolanus tensed for a second, thinking they were finally going to react, going to grab him, hit him, something – yet, their arms shifted away from the angle of his body, moving in to hold the muscles of the pectoralis major up in their hands, cupping them. They were making more room for him to write on their upper abdomen. 

Coriolanus loathed them. 

Had he had half the control, he would’ve smacked the stitched hands away. He liked it far more when they acted like a ragdoll, instead of this game of pacification it was trying to play. Writing down on the external oblique aponeurosis, he brought his hands back up their skin until it rested under their wrists. He held both their wrists on either hand. “Please, bring your hands down so I can continue mapping.” The words came out more as a whisper than he had intended. They instantly had listened to his command, letting their arms fall back on either side and their chest exposed to him. His eyes lingered briefly on the sight, taking in the small details that made the subject unique. The beauty mark on their left mammary gland, now in his line of sight. No longer blocked by the limit of only just a photo. There was that dry feeling in his mouth again. 

Carefully, bringing a hand up, gauging their reaction, he held one of the mammary glands in his free hand and a marker up in the other. Judging their face, they seemed neutral, no frown or smile, no wrinkle, no squint. He could assume there must have been discomfort under those dark pits for eyes. He knew that’s what he felt, doing this right now. Coriolanus wondered if it would have been better or worse, if Project Prometheus were to be more… reactionary. 

“Let me know if anything bothers you.” Dotted lines followed after his hand. He’d take it, the laborious small talk. It was much more preferred right now than this tortuous silence that had fallen between them. Thick and constricting, had it gone on any longer, Coriolanus knew he would drive himself internally insane if he was to be left alone to his own thoughts. If Project Prometheus had done nothing while he was holding onto their very own breasts in his hands. Had it been any other person, they would’ve squirmed under his touch. Possibly even a twitch to unconsciously move away, as the marker moved against the skin of the areola. The mapping of the right gland was dotted and marked completely. 

“You don’t bother me.” 

Now, that felt deliberate. 

Ink halted, stopping after writing out the final letter of the pectoralis minor. The words were written next to the beauty mark he had noted before. Coriolanus was tempted to make dotted lines around the area, as a place of special interest, though marks like these were no major muscle or nerve. Blue eyes had looked up through thick lashes, he slightly lifted his craned head up to get a better look at the subject. Peering towards their face, he didn’t know why he expected anything different. It was the same look of disinterest, the broken lights hung above them casted a haunting shadow over their face. Did he also look similar, when they stared back at him? In certain angles, despite the unnerving look the room had given them, Coriolanus might’ve thought their eyes seemed naturally soft towards him. Innocent, maybe. 

Did they see nothing wrong with what he was doing? … Or had all the tests and operations ruined not just their nerves, but fried them, that their sense of danger seemed near non-existent? 

Was this another form of appeasement that it was trying to pull on him? 

Unconsciously, his hands had released themselves, finally, from holding onto Project’s Prometheus’s breasts. Both now marked, his free hand slid down the expanse of their abdomen. The ridges and bumps of their scars and stitches were felt briefly, the full grasp of the sensation blocked by the barrier of latex rubber wrapped around his fingers. Not once did he look away from the subject as his hands made its way down, and neither did Project Prometheus. His hand stopped at the tensor fasciae latae. Something was wrapping itself around the cavity of his chest, making the activity of breathing a difficult feat for him to do. Coriolanus didn’t know what he was doing. Was he trying to garner a bigger reaction from it? An attempt of possibly stirring violence, even? 

Maybe it was delaying his own discomfort, he realized. Looking down, he stared to see the spread of skin below that had no splotches of black ink. They were shorter than him, he’d have to get down on his knees if he wanted to have clear and easy access to mark its legs. How humiliating… Having risen up through the ranks and bringing the Snow family back to its rightful place of acclaim and fortune; only to fall back down on his knees to a prisoner, a former rebel. If the other families caught wind of this, he’d never hear the end of it. 

Reluctantly, still holding onto their hip, his body moved itself to the floor. Knees touched against the uneven grout of the tiles, the position a bit awkward. He was thankful, for the surgical gown he wore, that the vile floor of the examination room wouldn’t stain against his clothes. Tracing his hand down to the stitch mark path of their leg, he rested it at the back of their thigh. Coriolanus tilted his head up, ready to command that Project Prometheus moved their leg more towards him. But, his words fell into a silent, held breath as he gazed up at them from his position. The shadow that had cascaded over their face briefly from before was now entirely enveloped around their body. Sickly green fluorescent lights shone above their head, akin to a haloing effect. Illuminated around the edges of their body, their hair, the subject still looking at him. Only him, and nothing else. A thrumming noise was loud in his ears; it felt dangerous. It felt like a warning that something was wrong here. He had felt it before.

Project Prometheus moved its leg forward, more into him, without a word ever spoken between the two of them. How pliant it was with him. 

He pressed the marker against their skin as thank you, dipping his head back down to their thigh. It would be risky, if he lost focus. There was still so much he had yet to know of the subject, the layers that were contained behind the flimsy shield of flesh and tissue. He dotted the area of the vastus medialis, careful not to press the ink against the subject’s stitches so as not to irritate the healing skin there. Maybe its attempts of appeasement were working on him. Not once did he think he’d have a shred of enough care to think about the possibility of ink seeping into their wounds. 

He marked down the region of the knee. Patella. 

“...You’re a very gentle person, Dr. Snow.” The subject spoke quietly, in a whisper just loud for him to hear. “You treat me so carefully, I barely feel a thing when you hold me.” 

It mistook his lightweight hands for kindness. Reality was that he was just wary about setting them off. 

“Does Dr. Gaul not treat you in the same manner?” The words came out softly from him. Reaching now the ankle of the subject, gloved hands reached down underneath the sole of its foot, lifting it up for better writing access. Instinctively, Project Prometheus placed their hands on either side of his shoulders so as to not fall. Their body leaned itself more into him, using him as a steady weight of support. The proximity of their small body bent over his, the glare of the fluorescent lights was entirely swallowed up, casting a dark shadow over him, blocking the light from reaching him. Could they feel, under their ragged fingers, the tenseness in his body at their action? If the subject wanted to, they could easily go in to attack him in this vulnerable position. He’d do the same if he was in their position. He continued to write, marker steady in hand. There would be no satisfaction to be gained for the subject, in seeing him stumble and cower. 

He wrote the words ‘abductor hallucis’ on their foot.

“She… does not treat me rough, no. If I had to describe it, I think the word for it is more… ‘inanimate’.” He doesn’t quite recall if a new law was passed that required captors to treat prisoners humanely. It sounded as if it was trying to recall certain words again. Should the exam go entirely smoothly with no problems, he might feel generous enough to convince Dr. Gaul to bring Project Prometheus a dictionary for them to study up on. Not like it would do much. It wasn’t like they had anyone to really practice their knowledge on. 

Coriolanus wondered what the prisoner was exactly before all this, back when they were formerly Capital. They lacked the air of dignity and ignorance that most Capital elites donned well, but maybe that could be attributed to their decay while staying here. Or perhaps the prisoner had come from a small, simple family. The kind that handled all the manual labor that the Capital never liked to speak loud about. The workers who were hardly ever seen, or acknowledged. That could explain why he never heard any recent fuss over a family’s child being ‘sent away’. No one would ever care for a background prop. 

It held onto his shoulders more tightly, as he adjusted the subject’s position. It didn’t want to topple over him. 

Project Prometheus's right foot now marked accordingly, he placed its foot back down on the rotten floor. Ready to reach his hand to hold onto their left, the subject moved without the need for his touch. The left leg was gestured forward for him. How sweet of them to realize a pattern. “I don’t mind it, though. As long as she still talked to me.” How fascinating. The subject was pacified by the easy act of conversation. Such a simple thing to be pleased by, Coriolanus could think they were joking. Regardless of how things were going so far, he still didn’t forget it. The bloodstains on the halls was something he could not erase so easily. That suggested, no, it told him, that Project Prometheus had something up their sleeve still. Though, nothing had occurred. Nothing had happened because they were still speaking to each other. Coriolanus continued to write on its foot. Lumbrical.

“...Do you get upset if she doesn’t speak to you?” 

He couldn’t help but ask. 

He wanted to know. He needed to know. 

“...I get lonely, and sad.” Was it trying to downplay its emotional reactions to him? “I wonder if it's because I did something wrong to upset her.” If a prisoner of his tried to fight back numerous times during their captivity, he’d get annoyed too. It was strange, though. Coriolanus knew that morals and values were of no concern for Dr. Gaul, especially against rebels. Any torture, punishment, placed on them was not seen as being done onto another person, but just another animal, a specimen in her collection. It would not be above Dr. Gaul to cut off a limb, or two, to get a prisoner to stop fighting. So… why not do the same here? Perhaps, this form of mental and emotional punishment was more lethal than he assumed. Another curious test from the mad woman, it was impossible to ever understand her whims. 

“Sometimes, I think it might be one of her tests.”

Coriolanus didn’t say those words. 

He didn’t like this. Such a statement, spoken so simply, brought him a sick swirl of unease. 

The movement of ink had halted, yet his mind continued to race. The thin hairs at the back of his neck stood at its ends, and he held tightly onto the marker in his hand. Quietly, carefully, he placed the plantar surface of Project Prometheus’s foot back down on the uneven tiles below the both of them. Reaching his hands up to his shoulders, where the subject’s extensor retinaculum were, he held onto it firmly. The subject put up no sign of objection. Sweat was slowly building up under the tight material of the gloves he donned on, but it was not a sweltering warmth. It was a cold, clammy sensation. 

“What do you mean by ‘one of her tests’?” Punctuating the words at the end, he kept his tone inquisitive, curious. Perhaps, a dabble of suspicion. Not towards the subject, but more towards the matter. What was needed in this situation was caution, and he’d be a gutted fool if he was to let the rebel become aware of how much the question startled him to his core. For right now, he’d play the gentle, confused assistant that it assumed of him before. He already told the lie of it knowing Dr. Gaul better than he did. 

“Her tests,” 

It spoke as if he knew! He knew very well what it was. What once was a flash of fear, had become a steady stream of anger. He knew because he is Dr. Gaul’s assistant. It was his job to follow in the steps she’s placed out for him, and more. Why would a prisoner, a subject, know about the ways Dr. Gaul operated? How much does Dr. Gaul tell it in these ‘conversations’? 

It made him sick, that the lie he told before could actually become true. 

“I never notice it until it’s done, until she tells me at the end. She never shares the results with me.” For once, he is tempted to strip his pride and beg for more details. “Most days, it’ll be physical tests, like today. Others, it’s more… talking, or writing.” 

“Writing?” 

It came out quickly before he could properly think his words over. He doesn’t recall seeing possible writing exams in Subject A01’s report. To be fair to himself, he did skim it briefly since he was only just now introduced to the project. There wasn’t much time for him to familiarize himself with all the tiny details written inside. At least, the things that were legible. 

“Dr. Gaul hands me scraps of paper and just asks me to write what I think. Like uh, a journal…I guess.” Keeping a diary couldn’t be the only test Dr. Gaul was having it do. If writing random streams of thought was enough to be intellectually challenging, he wouldn’t be seeing students at the University fighting to win passing grades. “I don’t understand the reason why, and I never remember what I write. My memory is not the best.” It was giving him an excuse to try and shift the conversation. How funny it was, trying to take control of the situation. He’d never let such a thing happen. In this examination room, there was only one person and a subject, the dynamic that was at play was clear. The grip Coriolanus had on their extensor retinaculum tightened, an unconscious movement on his part. Project Prometheus had taken in a soft breath of air at the action, the sound loud enough between the both of them. Had it not come from a prisoner, what a sweet sound it could’ve been. 

“Could you explain it to me,” His voice came out softly, despite the gnawing irritation that he held back. The tight grasp he had loosened, one hand stroking down a careful thumb down the stitched wrist of the subject in gentle circles. He shifted in his kneeled position, adjusting to a more comfortable weight as the layers he wore started to wear at him, an uncomfortable shift. Wearing the surgical uniform could be sweltering. Tilting his head up slightly to gaze up at the subject, praying that his eyes did not betray and reveal his inner thoughts. “Try to remember.” 

Coriolanus could’ve sworn he saw a slight falter, a tremble, in the dark optics of Project Prometheus. Its supercilium furrowed just the slightest inch upwards; did it look apologetic? The first visible change of expression he’s witnessed in the time he’s spent here in this examination room, and it’s one of regret. The subject’s fingers twisted itself into the fabric of his surgical gown, opening its mouth partially as they sought the right sound, the right word. He could make out the faint peeks of its canines. 

“... I’m sorry, Dr. Snow. I can’t remember at all,” They breathed out, in admission, surrendering. It treated it as a guilty confession. 

“Not a thing?” He whispered softly to them, prompting them to speak more. Coriolanus applauded himself internally, for how sympathetic he sounded. 

The subject shook its head. 

“My memory is not good.” Again, it reaffirmed its previous statement. 

Was his question that hard? Surely, specks of small details, flashes of imagery, that would be sufficient enough of an answer for him. He wasn’t asking for a full essay of their inner workings ( though, he wouldn’t mind it ). However, as both their eyes continued locked in a stare, his thumb slowed its movements. The leathered finger stopping at the center junction of its stitches, the feel of the raised, textured skin apparent under the feel of the material. Project Prometheus was being sincere. Its face hadn’t changed, its body had not moved away from him. Dare he say, the minimal space between them; something he did not mind earlier before, had become much more apparent in his feverish mind. The subject answered him so honestly, it made his suspicions of before seem so ridiculous now. One thing did nag at him though, the writing, the insistence of journaling, the memory. 

…

“... Do you remember how long you’ve been here?” Two years ago, Coriolanus recalled. Two years ago, that was when he was abandoned in District 12. When Dr. Gaul had started the experiment on Subject A01, busying herself with curiosities while he was drowning himself in depravities and vices, waiting out like a dog for some form of mercy to reach him. 

A new, tense silence consumed them both. He watched the subject carefully, taking note of the slightest movement that could give any indication of anything more. Tracing with his eyes, following how Project Prometheus’s cuspid snagged at their chapped bottom lip. A faint flush of red spread across the muscle, from the pressure exerted on it. Unconsciously, it reminded him of how dry his own mouth felt, the hoarse sensation in his throat. He darted out his own tongue for a brief moment to wet his own mouth, hidden underneath the surgical mask he wore. Nothing was being said between them, but yet there was so much being told. A fierce feeling was soaring, running through the veins of Coriolanus; he knew what it meant and he feared for it. Not for what the answer could be, but what it possibly could bring up. 

“You don’t remember how you got it here at all, do you?” His voice was so hushed, spoken as if taboo. It gave him the same feeling of it, the rush as the blood was entering his head and his heartbeat loud in his ears. 

A form of dissociative amnesia. 

Project Prometheus had developed gaps in memory due to an extended amount of isolation and exposure to severe trauma. It all clicked in Coriolanus’s head. He understood now what Dr. Gaul was attempting to achieve in her games with the subject. The tests, the daily conversations, the journal writing – Dr. Gaul was examining the subject’s mental decay as part of the Project’s ongoing research. Not only has the woman deteriorated and changed the way the prisoner’s nerves had worked, but their mind as well. Is continuing the Project even viable to do anymore? It was a form of punishment. Would it be ethical to operate on a being of flesh, when the subject no longer knew what it was being punished for? The question would most likely give Dr. Gaul a kick of joy. She loved to ponder questions worthy of debate. Coriolanus wouldn’t put it past the woman if she already gave the inquiry out to one of her classes in a lecture hall. 

“I vaguely do,” 

His eyebrows rose in interest. 

“But only in subtle feelings.” 

Nevermind. 

“I think I experienced some form of confusion. And bits of anger, too. Dr. Gaul… For a moment, I used to be so scared of her. Now, I can’t even remember the reason why.” 

Project Prometheus’s indifference, Coriolanus realized, it was not just solely based on apathy. What had become of it was a blank state, unsure of how to process things so the mind refused to process it all. But, it was still something highly susceptible to influences, shown in how Project Prometheus had become conditioned like Pavolv Dog, to associate Dr. Gaul’s silence with anger and disappointment, and her socialness with satisfaction and joy. It all was dawning on him. He could see it now, why Dr. Gaul was so disturbingly fascinated by this project. Gloved hands moved away from the subject’s wrist, and reached out to lay in gentle manner against the side of their bare thighs. The subject allowed him to, never raising a sign of objection. Could he teach it to experience anger once more, when he treated their body like this? Maybe discomfort, disgust, despair - he wanted to show their blank canvas of a mind what it felt like to fully immerse themselves in these ugly emotions. He knew why they were like this, but there still was a lingering crumb of vexation directed at the subject. Somehow, in their newfound state, they still felt far more free than he ever did; how they almost felt nothing, and he had to feel everything. 

And yet, there was another thought that touched him. He wondered, if he spent enough time with the subject, could he too, be able to condition them to other things. They thought of him as merciful, kind, in comparison to Dr. Gaul. Could he make Project Prometheus worship him, and in the same quiet breaths they were fond of, resent him? The thought of making them accustomed to anticipating his attendance, and lamenting his absence sounded tempting. 

How nice it would be, to have someone other than a deranged crone enjoy his presence. 

Tigris certainly didn’t anymore. 

Coriolanus rose himself from the ground, gripping on the meat of Project’s Prometheus’s flesh to lift him. Under his touch, the pliant stretch of skin and tissue made the subject remove their hands from his shoulders. Another faint breath escaped their exhale. It was a sound he was slowly getting used to. Back to their original height difference, he no longer had to crane his head up to look at the subject. The subject had to lift their head up to look up at him, now. What did Project Prometheus see, in their gaze as they stared at him, Coriolanus thought. Was he too, consumed in shadow and bathed under the gritty lights of the examination room like they once had? 

“We’re done with the mark-up.” It took him a moment to move away from the subject. “We’ll move to holding the nerve exam now, after I administer a low dosage of your medication.” 

The uncapped, black marker was placed back down on the metal tray, aside from the examination table. Replacing its empty space was now the syringe he had filled out before, the dark color swishing as he picked it up. The needle gleamed under the fluorescent light. Turning his back around, Project Prometheus had already sat themselves up nicely on the edge of the examination table for him. Their legs dangled off, their hands held at the edges of the worn-out leather cushion, eyes fixated on his person. They were waiting for him. He’s almost bothered, how easily the subject could anticipate his next set of commands. He hoped that this was just due to routine, not because he had become easy to read. Coming up to meet them there, the only sound that filled the air was the sole of his shoes stepping against the tiles. Gloved fingers reached to grab at the jaw of Project Prometheus, the syringe held close to their face. It shone particularly brilliant, mere inches away from their face. The subject showed him no fear, no resistance, despite the way the skin of the cheeks had moved under his grasp. 

Already, he wanted to break them.

“Show me where to inject you.” 

He’d be sweet, Coriolanus would let them pick where it was most comfortable for him to inject the medication in. Project Prometheus complied immediately to him, holding on the hand that held their needle to adjust the position. They guided him to the back of their neck, moving their hair to make space. To reward their compliance, he pricked the syringe quickly under the skin, careful not to touch an artery or nerve. The dark liquid inside the barrel slowly filled out, emptying itself as he pushed the plunger down. The subject did not let out a sound, a favorable contrast to Livia, who waited for him outside these Citadel walls. 

He was going to mold them into something useful.

[stsg420]

stsg420’s fanfic recs!!! (on-going)

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SMUTTY CONTENT WILL LOOK LIKE THIS

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STSG

Knife-Edged Butterfly -> I rated this: 20/10

• suguru is a sexy girl-dad stripper. satoru is a “retired” assassin/special agent who loves chicken wings & annoying nanami (crazy!!!!) mahito is a deranged bitch trying to kill everyone. but holy fucking shit???? this was so amazing and the fluff was probably the most well-written and comforting fluff I've ever encountered on the internet. I can’t even explain how articulate and amazing the writing and characterizations in this fic are. This is my #1.

Coanda Effect -> I rated this: 11/10

• formula one au. I’m sure y’all have seen it everywhere. there’s a reason for that. this fic right here has the potential to be my favorite stsg fic EVER written. the writing. the depth. the character progression. the intertwining plots. the relationships. the drama. oh my fucking god. I could go onnnnn and onnnn. there’s not too much smut but it’s perfect. absolutely perfect. go binge read RIGHT NOW ITS ALMOST FINISHED!!!!

There you are -> I rated this: 9.9/10

• set during the 10 years after geto defects. they meet up, because of course they do. they fuck each other and love each other and leave each other like always. it’s sad and hot and angry and bitter and so so so canon. the diction and writing style perfectly encapsulates their relationship. nurse!geto makes an appearance :)))))) do not read if you’re having a particularly sad stsg night (speaking from experience)

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GETO

Washing hair and the quiet acceptance of being loved -> I rated this: 10/10

• this fic right here. the ultimate comfort geto fic (until mine is released🫡). I’m telling you this makes everything feel better. just 1k+ words of the fmc taking care of geto. because he is a princess and the loml and deserves nothing but the best care and treatment.

Ausländer -> I rated this: 9.9/10

• outlaw!geto, officer!gojo, and a badass fmc. she literally builds/runs her own town. this is a geto/fmc fic but there is unresolved tension with stsg. let me tell you, this is a work of ART. a MASTERPIECE. I wish I could get this tattooed on my brain. the fmc is soooo well written and has amazing depth. this is some delicious wild wild west type shit. lots of guns and saloons and chases on horses!!!! fucking incredible. I strongly urge you to read this.

Spin the Bottle -> I rated this: 9.8/10

• y’all already know. college au where suguru is your best friend, has the fattest crush on you & needs just a litttttlee bit of liquid courage to cross the line. it’s fantastic. it’s scrumptious. it’s indulging. it’s cover girl. I reread this twice a month. not joking. this is college suguru to his core and you can’t change my mind.

[angstylittleb1tch]

Who am I, to you? (Aether x creator!reader)

Summary: It is an imposter sagau universe where creator!reader escapes from her acolytes to the far corners of Sumeru and decides to start a flower shop but an unexpected guest comes for a visit...

Note: This is my very First Fic EVER. I do admit I'm no master at writing but I'm trying to learn and am open to criticism so please don't hesitate to correct me in my pronunciation, grammar, spelling or knowledge on any mentioned topic. Thanks!

Warnings: Yandere? (If you squint), mentions of swords, vines used as binding equipment (not bdsm you lil shits)

Pt 2

The sky today was just as beautiful as it was every day. Granted it never really changed due to teyvat basically just being zero's and one's but no one but you knew about that so better not to mention it.

Previous to your 'decent' into teyvat, you were just like any other gacha gamer who stumbled upon Genshin by accident and became addicted to it in a short span of time. Naturally, that had let you to explore more about this fandom which had eventually landed you to the sagau corner of Genshin fanfics which is why being teleported or rather isekai'd to teyvat wasn't a very shocking experience.

However, you weren't just going to walk into Mondstadt like the other fanfics, no. You were much calmer and more grounded not to mention clever. Never once were the acolytes alerted of your presence in teyvat as you slowly over the span of a few months made your way to Sumeru, making sure to stay hidden for days on end and to take all the longer but less active routes.

In your first week in Sumeru, you had found out that the traveler had yet to cross paths with the dendro archon and was still in Inazuma, so you had a general idea of where in the timeline you were.

Since you had no family or even proof of birth or existence in teyvat, finding a job was increasingly difficult along with keeping your identity hidden. However, as if you were blessed by some all-knowing power, higher than gods, you encountered an old yet very kind lady who allowed you to live with her at the outskirts of Sumeru so long as you helped her run her little flower shop.

Months passed in the blink of an eye, and you found yourself growing soft towards the lady you grew to see as your own grandmother. She insisted you call her that and you happily obliged. Your trust and love towards her grew so much so that eventually you decided to tell her the truth about your origins and status of creator in this world.

Though shocked at first, she never treated you any differently than before, and appeared to be more understanding of your situation. Both of you lived your life in happiness, away from the world. However due to being cut off from the world you were late to know that the traveler had successfully taken care of the Shouki no Kami and saved Sumeru from the scheming Akademiya.

Neither did you have any idea about how frivolously Aether had been turning teyvat upside down trying to look for you.

Unlike the other acolytes, Aether held a deeper connection with you, the creator. He was the first one you guided and the first to get to know your aura. There was absolutely no way he wouldn't find out about your arrival to teyvat. It was honestly better the others didn't. Imagine if everyone knew the creator was just walking amongst the common folk. That would certainly cause a panic amongst everyone.

He had to find you before the others did. He had to know. He had to see your face in person. One he had seen through the illusion of the sky way too many times before. One he had grown to love.

Yes, Aether was indeed in love with you. He had fallen not too long ago but he had fallen far. How couldn't he? You were just perfect in every way conceivable. Your eyes? Absolutely beautiful, he could have one glance and an eternity would have passed for him. Your smile? Mesmerizing. Oh, what he wouldn't give just to see a glimpse of it. He was sure he'd slay even the mightiest of gods, even Celestia, if it meant he'd be rewarded with one of your smiles.

It was entirely safe to say that when he'd gotten wind that there was a flower shop located at the ends of Sumeru said to house flowers no one had ever seen before, he was beyond intrigued. Especially since some poor soul he saw in Sumeru city had the same flower his sister always wore in her hair just laying around, claiming he bought it from your shop.

Now he just had to figure out what kind of a person would sell such a rare and practically impossible flower to get your hands on so freely. So, without thought, he soon found himself Infront of your little flower shop in the middle of nowhere with his eyes set straight at the door.

He could definitely feel your presence, it was everywhere. The plants, the flowers, the animals and even the air itself felt.... purified. It had to be your work. There was no doubt about it. Even Paimon didn't say a word for once in her life. She was too curious and perhaps a little uneasy at what kind of a deity she was to face now.

Unlike Paimon however, Aether could barely contain himself enough to stand. After a while of trying to gather courage to step in, he finally opened the door and was greeted by a view equivalent to the Fields of Elysium.

The sun rays fell through the windows lighting up the place, vast arrays of flowers were laid bare anywhere the eye could reach, wisteria flowers were hung from the ceiling as if they were growing from the skies above.

Never once before had Aether truly felt at home anywhere before more than here.

"I'll be there in just a second!" A sweet voice called out to him breaking him from his trance. It was you; you were talking to him. Addressing him. Before he could fully fathom what was to happen, you came out from the back of the store finally giving him a full view of your face.

"Hello there, how can I be of help today?" You greeted him.

Despite keeping up your calm, aloof and cheerful persona, you were panicking inside. Never once did you think you would meet him today. Him. Aether. Of course, you knew who he was. If his bright blonde hair wasn't a dead giveaway, then the floating ball of joy next to him definitely shouted out his identity to you.

You wanted to shout, to scream, to go up and crush Aether in a bone wrenching hug. You wanted to tell him how sorry you were for not being able to help him on his journey to find his sister. You wanted to hold him and take all his pain away. You wanted to tell him that you would be there for him.

That you Loved him. That you Love him.

Alas you couldn't, because there was no way in the entirety of teyvat that he would be able to let a stranger do that.

That's all you were to him of course. He didn't know you. There was no way he would. No one knew who you were, otherwise, you wouldn't be alive in this shop right now.

"Uhm hello?" You asked him, finally getting out of your own thoughts and noticing that he had been silent the whole time.

As if something snapped by your words, Aether finally came to his senses and responded,

"Ah! Yes! Oh, hi hello ahem I'm totally not staring."

You chuckled at his nervousness. "Never said you were."

If Aether's cheeks and ears weren't red earlier, they definitely were now. Your laugh was so pretty. He could never get enough of it.

"So, are you looking for any specific flowers? We have tons of variety; some I can assure you've never seen before! If you need, I can recommend you if you're buying for a specific occasion or I could just show you some general-" You smiled as you talked on and rambled about the flowers and Aether wasn't even sure if he was listening.

You looked absolutely ethereal, and Aether was so sure he was in heaven right now or somewhere close to it because archons were you beautiful. Even the Archon of Love would be jealous of your allure.

It's as if you were an enchantress, and in all honestly Aether wouldn't mind if you were, all because of the look you were giving him right now. He was already in cloud 9.

"-and so, I would definitely recommend the peonies. Hey? Are you even listening?"

"Hmm? Oh! Yes of course, Peonies, right? I'll take a bouquet."

"Alright just a moment, by the way, you never told me how you got here? I mean this place is pretty off the map, quite hard to stumble by it."

You knew exactly what you were doing, there was no way Aether just stumbled upon your shop out of nowhere. It was too out of character for him. Was there a reason he came here? Did he know?

"Oh, uhm I was uh recommended! Yes, I saw another traveler I came across in Sumeru own a rather unique flower, so I asked him where he got it, and he told me it was from your shop so here I am."

"I see, what flower was it? If you liked it so much, I could give you a few, consider it on the house."

"Are you sure? It's completely fine, I'll pay for them."

"No, it's alright, you can have them for free, don't worry about it. So which one was it?"

"Ahem, well it's the 'Inteyvat'"

"Oh. That flower.... I see you have an eye for flowers huh."

"Not really, it just... holds sentimental value. How about you, how'd you come across it?"

"Ah well you see, the seeds were given to me by my grandma, i suppose it's a family heirloom."

Both of you knew that neither of you told the entire truth however addressing it would cause a LOT of explanation, one you just weren't ready for, not before your coffee at least.

"So, what did you say your name was again?"

"Why? Are you trying to take me out on a date?"

"Would you say yes if I were?"

"Paimon will pay for the food!"

I guess everyone's a little bold today.

"I'm sorry did I hear that right? You? Paimon? The one who has less mora than Zhongli? Will pay for my date? That is only possible if we're going on a date in my dreams."

"WHY YOU-! Fine! Paimon won't be paying for your food then since you're such a big meanie to Paimon. And excuse you- Paimon isn't broke ok! Infact Paimon is richer than the traveler!"

"Paimon, how many times have I told you, those 'primogems' of yours are not actual currency."

"AGH-! Paimon's had it with you today! First you make Paimon fly the whole way here without telling why and now you're making fun of Paimon! That's it, Paimon is going to tattle to xiangling about how you actually threw away the Black-Back Perch Stew she made for you and only pretended to eat it because you were so full from Sara's cooking!"

You watched stifling your giggles as Aether's Face dropped into a terrified expression.

"NO! I'm sorry Paimon, please don't tell xiangling about that, she will murder me if she finds out. You don't want me dying.... do you?"

"Hmph"

"Please Paimon I'm begging you I don't want to die so young! I'll never make fun of you again! I'll even stop calling you emergency food so please! Anything but xiangling's wrath...."

You just couldn't hold it in anymore. If anything, Aether's pleading added to your amusement, and you burst in a fit of laughs.

Aether had almost forgotten you were here. His gaze turned to you and a smile creeped up his face which soon turned into and embarrassed look as he realized you had front row seats to his predicament.

"Hey! It's not that funny y/n! I'm serious! Stop making fun of me- Oh just great now Paimon's laughing too!" Though Aether was seeming to be embarrassed he was happy he could make you laugh like that.

That was until your smile disappeared from your face as you registered what he said.

"I never told you my name."

Both Aether and Paimon looked at each other as the atmosphere took a turn for the worse. There was no humor in your voice and your face looked cold, completely contradicting your laughs and smiles earlier.

"I- Please let me expla-"

Just as Aether took a single step in your direction vines sprung at him, securing him in his place as they wrapped around him. Paimon tried to pry them off but to no avail. He looked back up towards you but all he saw was a pure black sword pointing at his throat and a dark look in your eyes.

"Who am I, to you."

Well, that went well. I think? I'm still trying to figure out how I want to end this fic but I'm not completely clueless. I will be making a nice lil happy ending though. Anyways if you have any suggestions on how you want this fic to end then I'm open to them. Gosh Writing is hard, my respect for authors just skyrocketed.

Also, just a reminder that THIS IS MY FIRST FIC so please be nice and generous in your criticism otherwise if you don't like it them you can fuck skedaddle right off, Thank you very much.

Anyways, I'm gonna go sleep now It's like 2 am rn and I have to go on a trip in like a day so yeah, until I decide to post the next part fellow beings.

Signing off.

Also, PLEASE LEAVE A COMMENT IM BEGGING YOU I NEED TO KNOW IF THIS WORK IS EQIVALENT OF SHIT OR IF ITS ACTUALLY DECENT.

[merakiui]

MERA!!!! I have no one else to ramble/rant about this to since I fear it's a pretty uncommon experience, but have you ever read a wonderful piece of work by someone who unfortunately ended up deactivating/leaving most socials? ;ª;

There's this one darker Tweels fic called "Aphotic" currently listed on ao3 (https://archiveofourown.org/works/27124492/chapters/66236443 link for good measure)- which if im not sure if you've ever read, but oh. My. God. It's such a great fic that really hits the spot for darker content of the tweels. The characterization of Jade and Floyd are absolutely my favorite in this fic as they're just *incredibly* mean to the reader but in a tasteful way. Bonus points also go to how the author wrote the mc(reader) as well, everyone in this fic is just equally fucked up and reading through this story is just one incredible rocky ride..there are only two surviving chapters and one of the two is Floyd focused, but I don't wanna spoil the main plot of the fic for anyone that may be interested in reading just please take the warning that when I say the tweels are mean, they are MEAN..

unfortunately the fic is not only unfinished but as I mentioned earlier, in a devastating turn of events the author of the series completely deactivated D: they were also on tumblr once I think they went by twstedworks? But there's no longer any way to see any of their works on this platform anymore which is just so unfortunate,, I get an intense feeling of past-felt-fomo knowing I wasn't able to see any of their other stuff while they were an active writer knowing that they seemed to be active in 2020(?) Which was a time I wasn't really reading any written works for twst... but regardless of whatever reason they chose to leave the platform I do hope they're doing well now.

I'm sad that I'll never be able to see the jade centric part of Aphotic, or be able to see any of their previous dribbles or works since they've all been completely wiped. I have followed good yan/dark twst writers and blogs in the past that have deactivated or moved on for whatever personal reason in the past but it does really suck in this case not being able to at least, in the slightest , have been able to experience other stuff this author may have wrote which im sure was delightful orz...

Reminder to readers and consumers of fanfic on here to always show support and motivation to your favorite writers!! You never know when you'll never get the chance to read anything from them ever again :( and thank you esp Mera for being one of my favorite twst blogs of all time on here!! Your interpretations of the tweels have always been my favorite from any blog and the way you choose to write these characters in general never disappoints ✨️

If this does get answered, being as this is my first ever formal ask, may I be 🪆 anon? Or 🍮🥄 if that's taken ^_^

Hi hiii, 🍮🥄 anon!!! (˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶)

I know that experience... >_< it's happened to some of the stories/authors I followed. It's always so sad when writers deactivate/leave the platform or fandom/etc, but everyone has their reasons. I can only be grateful I was able to behold such enjoyable works!!! :D "Aphotic" sounds like such an interesting story!! I love mean tweels. <3 I'll have to check it out!

I think I've read some writings from twsted-works before they deactivated! It was so long ago (before I even had a tumblr account), but I remember adoring the way they wrote Octavinelle. I hope they're doing well wherever they are!!

And you're so right!!! It's always important to show support and love to artists, creators, writers, etc! Most, if not all, writers love to receive feedback on their work. Even something like a keyboard smash or a dozen heart emojis is very flattering to us because it shows us that you've enjoyed the work. Whether you show that enjoyment by commenting, liking, reblogging, or sending an ask on here, it's always lovely to spread appreciation for the hard work and time that goes into crafting wonderful stories!!! ദ്ദി(˵ •̀ ᴗ - ˵ ) ✧

Thank you so much for your sweet words!! I'm just happy to be able to write and share stories!! It's a huge honor you would consider me one of your favorite twst blogs. I'm beyond flattered!!!! ♥️✨

[ariaste]

Okay, I have to share this story because it was a hilarious experience, I'm not sure if the ask box will let me get through it in one message, bear with me.

So I'm scrolling through IWTV fanfiction on AO3, reading some of the more recent fics, and I find one fic that I really love. They've really got the Daniel tone and essence down, I'm laughing to myself on the couch. I decide to wait and read the fic out loud with my partner because when a fanfic is really good we like to share it. While I'm waiting for my partner to get back from canning peaches, I check the author's profile briefly and I'm like 'oh shit they write for The Untamed,' which is cool, that was our last fandom that we were super into.

My partner gets home-- I excitedly tell them that I've found a new fic for us to read and they'd better buckle in because it's got a hell of a vibe and they're not even ready. My partner is like 'oh hell yeah' and gets out their crochet project. (we're in our mid twenties I don't know why this particular day makes us sound like we're in our eighties)

Anyways, I tell them that the author also does MDZS content so we can check that out after our IWTV fic and then we start reading the story and it's very good-- they have to hold up a hand to make me stop reading because they're cry-laughing, and all is well. And then suddenly I go.... wait. Wait, hang on. Hang on, I have to check this person's profile. This is a little too familiar.

And my partner says "Wait. Is this the MDZS writer-" and I say "I don't know I'm checking, hang on" and then I look up and we make eye contact and I'm like "oh my god babe it's the Meng Yao writer."

Essential Background: Meng Yao is my favourite MDZS character and it's hard to find good fics for him. A couple of years ago, my partner was reading the HOA fic and gushing about it, I was insisting that 'an act too often neglected' was simply the best MDZS fic that could ever be written, and we were absolutely shocked to discover they had an author in common, and then a while later there was ANOTHER fic I started reading out loud to my partner because it was That Good and it turned out to ALSO be the same author, so we just started calling them 'The Meng Yao writer' aka the only person we trust to write him.

Basically what I'm saying is that whenever either of us reads anything you've written, it's so goddamn good that we end up sharing it with each other and not realizing that it's the Same Author every time. So. I'm buying one of your books for my partner's next birthday I guess because you're clearly just That Good. Thank you for the multiple years of enjoyable fics and the consistent joy you're bringing to our household. Also I want to eat up your Daniel Molloy characterization with a knife and fork. Thank you.

This is the most delightful ask that it is possible to get. I am giggling and kicking my feet and grinning ear to ear. This is so sweet.

This is also so fucking funny to me. "The Meng Yao writer" ahhh my legacy. The arguing over which fic is better until the moment you realize they're both mine. The way you keep finding my fics and independently discovering every time that they're Finally Some Good Fucking Food without having learned my AO3 name at some point during that process until the third or fourth time i have jumpscared you with it dfghjkkdfghjkfghj Ariaste/Alexandra Rowland is everywhere, they're in your walls, they're currently standing right behind you actually ghjklwwghjwkl;

BLESS YOU AND YOUR PARTNER, your relationship sounds honestly ideal. I hope you keep reading fics and crocheting together forever.

Also very flattered that you're taking a swing with my original works! Thank you!! They are all set in the same world but they're usually (so far) about different characters, so as you read more of them you're going to start catching some fun cross-references between them. My thirteenth book comes out next month, so here's some good places to start based on the fics you've pointed out that you've particularly liked:

if you want more laughing-until-you-are-crying-and-have-to-stop-because-you-genuinely-cannot-breathe content (a la "different for vampires", HOAverse (Meng Yao and the Board of the Homeowners Association), or any of my other high comedic fics), start with RUNNING CLOSE TO THE WIND. It's about queer pirates accidentally stealing and trying to find a buyer for the most valuable secret in the world, and standing up against institutional hegemony. Also horny sea serpents. Also a plot-relevant cake competition. If you cried laughing at any of my fics in the past, you are not prepared for what I'm about to do to you here.

if you are enjoying the Snarky Old Man content that is Daniel Molloy and his disquisitions on the nature of storytelling and truth-seeking in "different for vampires", go for A CONSPIRACY OF TRUTHS, which has more of both of those things. It's about an elderly wandering storyteller who has been imprisoned on charges of witchcraft, treason, and brazen impertinence, and the stories he tells to rescue himself from the situation. And the corrupt government he accidentally knocks over along the way, whoops

If you liked the yearning, sweeping romance of the main pairing in "an act too often neglected", try A TASTE OF GOLD AND IRON, which is about an Exquisitely Beautiful Prince with a chronic anxiety disorder and his Stoic Beefy Bodyguard as they attempt to track down a coin counterfeiting ring that could bring down their whole economy, and also they fall in love along the way.

My next book, YIELD UNDER GREAT PERSUASION (out in September), is also great for that sweeping romance vibe, but preorders are not quite up yet! If you are looking for a cozy M/M romantasy about a prickly, grouchy tea shop owner, his childhood nemesis who he's been fucking since they were teenagers, and the hard, unglamorous journey of personal growth toward self-love and self-forgiveness to be able to accept love from other people... Watch this space, get on my Discord server (where i am these days constantly ranting about IWTV in a dedicated thread), or sign up for my newsletter linked on my website

Thank you again for the entirely LOVELY ask, I will be beaming all day. Please give your partner a high five from me, I hope the two of you enjoy the books (and if you want to get autographed copies for their birthday, hit me up in DMs and we can get that sorted out)!

Also, there will be a new chapter of "different for vampires" going up in the next hour or so :D

[eliashirsch]

God Tier Top Gun Fanfictions. A Masterlist. (3/3)

Part three of my fanfic recommendation! This one's for the best fics!

Winner Categories:

1. Best of the Best Authors (1/3)

2. Best of the Best Series (2/3)

3. Best of the Best Fics (3/3)

REMINDER! READ THE AUTHORS' TAGS AND WARNINGS!!!

Best of the Best Fics

Fics that shine bright as the stars. Make sure to check the author’s other works too!

ICEMAV

Kings of the Air by FabulaRasa @fabula-unica

Fighting and fucking: two things he did extraordinarily well. How could he have known what the effect would be when you combined the two?

This and COMPACFLT’s work directly inspired one of my works:) The writing quality is absolutely amazing. My favorite fics are those that have Ice returning to Top Gun and joining Mav as an instructor and this one just takes the whole motherfucking crown.

Indian Ocean. Present Day. by Jay Tryfanstone (tryfanstone)

Isolated on an aircraft carrier in the middle of the Indian Ocean, cut off from any source of information about the global political and environmental disaster which has engulfed the planet, Maverick and Goose struggle to make sense of an increasingly claustrophobic command structure and failing resources on board. When a refugee helicopter is spotted approaching the carrier, its pilot could be the catalyst for an explosive re-evaluation....

This fic man. This fic. It made me fall in love with post-apocalyptic fics. The writing style, the plot, Ice and Mav and Goose. Goose, man… Oh my god. If you read this fic you know why I’m still thinking about these boys’ fates. 

Rhinestone Cowboy by omnidirectional

That’s Doctor Iceman to you! Maverick bangs himself up and gets rescued by someone he didn’t expect. A Missing Scene featuring contrived situations, questionable life choices, gratuitous product placement, and shirtlessness. You know, everything you love about canon.

And it is absolutely everything I love about canon! I always love missing scenes or canon divergent. Not to say that I don’t enjoy AUs, but I love vibes like this the most where the story works alongside canon and elevates it to a whole other level. Mav and Ice and Slider feels correct.

Sleepless Nights by demiclar @demiclar / @slidersimp

Five times Maverick wakes himself up with nightmares and one time he's woken by someone else.

Fics about Mav’s grief over Goose’s death will always wreck me. This one in particular shows itself as a physical manifestation. I love love love all the guys stepping up and taking care of Mav, never once judging his pain. I’m a sucker for portrayals of the ugly side of grief.

Mal de Mer by saurora_borealis

"I thought you said you didn't get seasick, you little liar," Slider snaps. Maverick doesn't answer, head bowed, but Ice can see him shaking from here. Of all the times for Maverick to be sick, did it have to be on a night that Ice is ill too? Or: the carrier experiences some ocean turbulence. Even the most seasoned aviators fall prey to it.

This one has sort of the same vibe as the fic above. I never get tired of seeing the flyboys take care of each other<3

be my soulmate (and i'll be yours) by ChexMix

Of course Maverick dreams about finding his soulmate. Who doesn't? But he'd never imagined the possibility that it could be the Iceman. So when he catches sight of Ice's soulmark, it suddenly becomes all he can think about.

Classic Icemav soulmate AU. This is like exactly my type of angst and happy ending. Sometimes the things you’re familiar with are still the best:)

To Build a Home by LadyLanera @k9effect

Eighteen years before Top Gun Maverick, there was a home being built from ashes and ruin. When the dust finally settled and dusk fell, the house of cards collapsed, shattering three lives forever. Is it possible to rebuild, reclaiming the past in the future...when they're all hurtling towards their worst nightmare?

Goddddd. I love Mav’s character flaw in this. I love Ice’s maturity born from grief and sickness. I love Bradley’s anger and abandonment issues. I love that these three have hurt each other more than anyone ever could, but their love is still starkly present. My thoughts when I was reading this was that LadyLanera wrote their flaws so beautifully, making them human, and by doing so I understood their motivations and their actions. Amazing characterization. 

all is fair (in love and war) by dulcetines (evecstasy)

oh, ice, maverick bisa merasakan hati kecilnya meringis, ice, sori banget— hollywood menyelak lagi, kali ini dengan suara impersonasi terbaiknya: “teruntuk kuncen TOPGUN, yang mana di sana kuyakin matahari belum juga terbit sebersamaan dengan ditulisnya surat ini. aku ingin saat ini juga kau bersyukur tidak mesti mendengarkan slider ngorok di sampingmu. tuhan jesus. pria ini sudah kuanggap saudara sendiri, tapi terkadang ada saja hal-hal yang dilakukannya yang membuatku ingin menggulingkannya ke laut. kau apa kabar di sana? sudah berapa pilot yang kauhabisi egonya? apapun itu. jangan mati kebosanan dulu. aku bisa bilang begini karena surat-suratmu selalu mengancam demikian. ingat kau masih hutang makan malam denganku. dan sepuluh dolar. sampaikan salamku ke bayi itik. bilang aku kangen padanya. dan,” hollywood memalsukan dehem, sambil ia melanjutkan, “padamu juga. setiap detikku. ice.” begitulah.

Hehehehehe. Now this is more for me LMAO because as you can see, it’s written in Indonesian. Finding this fic in my mother language is like finding GOLD. Again, I love love love Icemav in their Top Gun era. This is for all of you Indonesian Top Gun enthusiast *blows a kiss* 

a higher fidelity by basedchamp

“C’mon.” Tori nudges him with an elbow. “C’mon. He’s cute. You can admit that one thing but you can’t admit this?” Gritting his teeth, Ice thinks very carefully about his next words. “He’s…” he trails off. “Some would say that…Mitchell is not. Unpleasant. To look at.” (Alternatively: the one where Ice and Mav learn to park bad, eat good, and love even better.)

Ice’s family, man… It’s refreshing to see them so supportive and loving. I’m guilty of making Ice’s backstory so tragic>:) But this one is heartwarming! I love the style and flow of the writing. It’s something that I want to achieve in my own writing as well, so kudos to basedchamp!

Tunnel Vision by brainjuicey (anzietyfreak) @brainjuicey

Instead of Ice biting the air in the locker room, he antagonises Mav by biting his neck, unknowingly setting off dormant Omega genes and sending him into heat. Everyone involved is forced to remain secure on base until they’ve investigated. AKA. Five Alphas, a Beta, and an Omega in heat, walk into an Air Base prison. Ramifications ensue. Alternative title, "Locked in Sex Jail With The Boys"

This scratched that specific part in my brain, man. ABO with the original cast of Top Gun? Sign me up, baby. Steamy and perfect. 

The Five People You Can't Escape in Heaven by V_Evergreen

Maverick dies, but it doesn't end there. Alternately: [“Hey, kiddo, are you with me?” Maverick opened his eyes and found that he could see. He blinked in the sudden light as his surroundings came into focus. Quite literally came into focus, as though everything around him was resolving into itself as he looked, deciding to form a lawn, flowerbeds, the tree trunk that he had been leant against. The sun was blinding overhead, high noon. In the distance, hazy and indistinct, he could make out a house. It looked vague, like a half formed memory but it was familiar. Just like the man crouched in front of him. “Dad?” He croaked.]

I was reading the original book (The Five People You Meet in Heaven) and came across this fic. Which in turn made me want to write my own rendition from the same idea.  That last chapter, man. It’s unreal how creative it is. A punch to the gut for sure.

(Here’s my fic if you want to read about it :) >> Estrellita)

He Ain't Heavy, He's My Brother by V_Evergreen

Five meetings between Thomas Kazansky and Ethan Hunt. Alternately: [Ethan heard the door click shut behind him and turned to ask after the papers when he was abruptly spun by a hand on his shoulder and pushed against the door. His first and immediate thought was that he was certainly being attacked. Kazansky had him pressed against the door, chest to chest, a hand around his wrist and then- oh. Oh no. He wasn’t being attacked at all, it was infinitely worse. He was being very thoroughly kissed. He pushed back against Kazansky’s chest and tried to think of something eloquent to say. “Um?”]

Another banger by V_Evergreen. Ice not knowing Mav has a twin and mistakenly kissing him is so funny. And the end is heartwarming as well. Love love love it.

Allies by Shearmouth

After getting shot down over a war-torn Iraq, Maverick makes some unlikely friends. They have something– a big something– in common. But all Mav really wants is Ice. Too bad he's half a world away, and even Mav can't run that on a shattered leg. Not with the infected chest wounds thrown in, at least.

Oh my goddddd. I keep being at a loss for words when describing these fics. It won’t do anyone good if all I wrote was goddd, oh mannn, it’s so goodddd. But it’s the truth. This one hits home so much. The risk and homophobia present when you’re in a place that punishes queer people for existing and being in love, how a single mistake will cost you your future. And it’s so heartwarming to see that even then, you’re not alone. Mav being helped to reunite with Ice and breaking down that since their relationship was private, Ice had to grief Mav alone. Man, oh man. 

There is a pain—so utter by CurSirrr

Pete Mitchell was fine. Completely fine. He didn’t feel dizzy with denial, or an utter trainwreck of hopelessness. He hadn’t shed a single tear or cried himself to sleep for the past week. His guts were twisting and turning, squeezing and cramping. His eyes were swollen and red, and his scalp hurt from his vicious hair tugs as he tried to understand the past week. OR Three times Bradley misses the chance to say goodbye before it is too late.

Just read the summary and prepare for a world of pain:) Ice’s canon death still haunts me. Good thing he’s sleeping away in his big house that he co-owns with Mav, regularly saves his husband’s ass, have barbeque Sunday with Bradley and Jake and the dagger squad, happy and healthy:))

keeping his cards close to his chest by Serie11 @oathkeeperoxas

It's not that Lucy wishes that her boss would be more open with her. It's that she quite literally knows nothing about the man, despite Admiral Kazansky being her CO for half a decade. Or: 5 times Ice successfully hid something from his staff, and 1 time Ice revealed his biggest secret

Love seeing Icemav seen through other people’s perspective. It adds so much to the universe. Ice and Mav being their usual old married couple while everyone around them suffers. Excellent.

'til I meet you there by adiduck (book_people) @adiduck

Maverick wakes up in the snow, helmet on, entire body aching intensely and parachute still attached. It takes him about half an hour of trekking through the snow to notice that there’s anything amiss. (Or: Maverick Mitchell is in the habit of talking to his ghosts. Usually, they don’t talk back.)

Mav’s journey through the underworld. This fic is just too creative😭Always a delight to see how loved Mav is. It’s so whimsical and confusing and so great.

the ships have come to carry you home by indigofudge

“Here it is,” Carole says, bringing Mav’s wheelchair to a stop. Mav’s mouth is dry. He aches for another cup of water. “Carole, tell me something, and don’t lie to me.” “Anything, Maverick.” “How bad does he look?” Carole is quiet for a while. Then she comes around and kneels in front of Mav, taking both of his hands in her own. Her eyes swim with tears. “If I didn’t know any better,” she says, voice breaking, “I’d think he was dead.” • Or, Goose is alive when they hit the water. That's enough.

Goose survives AU!!!! Huh? This isn’t canon? What are you talking about? Of course, Goose survives and the Bradshaw family is still whole and Mav still has his family and gets to have Ice too. What are you talking about??

Swallow by wildglitterwolf 

Ice is getting tired of Maverick's inability to be a team player. Maverick is annoyed by Ice's gum chewing. Ice is more than happy to get rid of it, he just needs a place to put it...

TT.TT Just… I didn’t know I like this dynamic so much…

HANGSTER

cruise control by res_judicata

Rooster’s plane goes down on a Tuesday.  Jake remembers that it’s a Tuesday because he had been out grabbing a quick bite for lunch with Javy and the little chalkboard on the wall of the cafe had proclaimed that Tuesday’s special was linguine in white wine with fresh mussels. (Jake deals with grief and love)

Made me cry a goddamn river. I’ve said this before, but Hangster is one of those ships that I had trouble getting into. When I first got into the fandom back in June 2022, I strictly read Icemav, never dipping my toes into Hangster’s relationship because I never felt the spark. But as time goes by I’m starting to warm up and have read more and more. This fic is one of those where it captured my attention instantly. I knew it was going to be angsty, but still holding out hope for a happy ending (just like Jake in this story). The grief that blanketed the whole writing only made the resolution more beautiful.

WHORES IN MY BED. by pornogirl

“Jake-” Bradley’s eyes have a wet glimmer to them, the kind of wet that looks like the beginnings of tears and Jake wants to kiss him so badly. “Jake, is it loaded?” Jake rolls his eyes at the question. “Open your fucking mouth.” (Author’s notes: it's really not as bad as the tags may suggest but like. read the fucking tags!)

I’m a freak and I’m not ashamed of it:) Basically, Jake's going on about how pretty Bradley is crying and scared. If this is your kink, definitely worth the read. I don’t know if it’s because I find it hot, but I don’t get the unsafe feeling as opposed to reading other works that have noncon elements. I don’t know it feels more like it’s both of their kinks or like something they’ve discussed before but Jake didn’t warn Bradley prior. Like CNC, I guess? Anyway it’s really hot and I have not looked at my retainers the same way;)

we're fools to make war by whimsicule @baroness-elsa

In a Walmart at three am, between beef jerky and tortilla chips, with the lights flickering above them like it’s the fucking twilight zone, Bradley wants him more than he’s ever wanted anyone. or: it's a hundred degrees in texas.

This is so Jake and Bradley I’m blown away by how right they feel. Seriously. I didn’t even notice this was 66k words. The vibes, the writing, Jake’s family. Oh hell. Definitely check out the author’s other works too! They’ve got a lot of other Hangster long fics:)

cinnamon and sugar by bottledyarn

Jake was slumped in the doorway, propped up against the wall beside the door. He was a strange, pale, near-gray against the dark backdrop of his apartment, and he looked—well… “You look like shit," Bradley said. – Bradley draws the short straw and has to take care of Jake when he's sick with a stomach flu. Jake doesn't want to be taken care of.

Sigh. Jake and Bradley, man. They’re the ship that you can shove as much angst as you want and it’ll fit right in with their dynamic. They’re just so stubborn!!!! The push and pull between them is magnetic, man. I think I get why people love them.

habits by rararatatouille

Jake and Bradley come together in a series of jagged stops and starts. They fall apart in the exact same way. In which habits are hard to break, even for the people we love most.

Mannnnn. Goddamnit. I think this fic converted me to like Hangster. I think this has become canon in my brain too. I can’t even. Just read it. Words aren’t enough to describe this fic. 

Days Like This by chase_acow @cowsalot

Jake's in Hawaii to lose himself after getting the Navy's first air-to-air kill in decades. Instead he finds a ramshackle diner, a cast of odd characters, and possibly the love of his life. Bradley goes to the Hard Deck to order waffles. He orders waffles. He goes to the Hard Deck to get some waffles. He goes to the Hard Deck, and who is this hot asshole acting like they know each other?

So good. A 50 First Dates AU. Jake just loves Bradley so much, man. And Bradley finally showing up in the end. Love really will make you walk miles across Earth for your special person<3

OTHERS

Other pairings, romantic and not.

Mr. Blue Sky by omnidirectional

Tragedy first brings Iceman into Bradley’s life, but he quickly becomes the steadiest presence of the boy’s childhood… until a betrayal tears their small family apart. After years of silence, can Bradley find the words to make up for lost time? Five times Ice sings to Bradley, and the one time Bradley sings to Ice.

Another one from omnidirectional. Ice and Bradley’s father and son relationship… Here’s one of the tags: Who Wants To Cry Today? If you’re up for emotional damage, click the link🫵

On Mighty Wings by PurpleArrowzandLeather @purplearrowzandleather-blog

Maverick raised geese over the years while Bradley was gone. Bradley does not know this until the flock comes home for the summer.

Short and sweet. Legend author as well. Love the geese preening Mav and Bradley sobbing while surrounded by honks. This is just too damn cute!!

Neglected by proprioception @mnstrfkr

"Do I look God-fearing to you, ma'am?" Maverick asked with a grin. "You most certainly do not," Carole said. "That's why I didn't marry you." "That and the mustache," Goose added.

Can’t forget about this GooseMavCarole fic of course! Hot and heartwarming. Absolutely amazing smut. This one sparked my brain to make a fanart of my favorite polycule. Their dynamic is just so fun!

Yearling by Fopperies , pohjanneito @pilvimarja

Alone in a cabin in the snowy mountains, Maverick is supposed to help Bradley on the path to presenting as an alpha soon. Bradley's body has other ideas.

Just gonna put this here… A different take on ABO’s biology, which I absolutely love. It’s so hot… Bradley, I feel you, honey…

Seeing a Trailer by daenabenjen42

In the aftermath of the Layton rescue, Merlin has questions.

Sighs for the millionth time. It’s so good. Again, I love the portrayal of Mav’s PTSD and grief here. And it’s not just him, but daenabenjen42 wrote about the other boys’ trauma too. I love it so much I must’ve reread this one about fifty million times. 

in between what's already done by crawsley

“We aren’t doing this,” Maverick says, firmly, and he’s tensing like he’s about to move, about to shove Rooster off of him, push him away like he pushed him away before, when all Rooster had wanted was some guidance, some help, some love and kindness and— Rooster bears him to the ground, right there on the rug in the entryway.

This is legitimately one of the first, if not the first fic I’ve read from RoosMav. I still remember clearly going home from watching TG:M in the cinema and KNOWING that there were definitely going to be people who ship Mav and Roo. I rushed to AO3 straight away:D Imagine my delight when finding this one!

shake my nerves and rattle my brain by BogBeast

This wasn’t supposed to be intimate. This was about punishment, humiliation, stubbornness and spite. Not this gentle crap that made him sigh, the hand in his hair making his stomach swoop with every tug, the heavy scent making his head feel foggy, the praises making his heart skip a beat. That shit is just weird. The horrifying realization that he’s hard in his flight suit has nothing to do with it.  - Mav's gotten them into a lot of weird situations, but giving blowjobs to their rivals because of a stupid bet has to be the weirdest one.

Icemav AND Sloose? SIGN ME UP, BABY!

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

That’s all of it! This is my list for now. Thank you all for reading through to the end! Let me know if you enjoyed any of these fics so we can gush about them together:) I hope you enjoyed my yapping:}

My works have always and will continue to take inspiration from others. So thank you for creating stories as beautiful and profound as these, dear beloved authors<3

If you want to see my bookmark collection of all of these fics, click here >> TOPGUN (Best of the Best) While you’re there, how about you read some of my fics too?>:) EliasHirsch

(PS!!! There will be a 4th part because there are definitely more good fics that people need to know about:))

[twiixr4kidz]

Shout out to you for being one of the few people to write Scott pilgrim fanfics. Can I request a fic with Todd Ingram and a trans dude reader? Specifically takes off Todd? like damn wallace fumbled that hard it's alr lemme treat u bbg LMAO

thank you :3 and absolutely!! i was so disappointed that they weren't endgame LMFAO

todd ingram x transman!reader

holy shit

now that todd has realized he's not straight, he's so siked to experiment with dudes

when he meets you, threre's something about the way you just... exist that he's fascinated with

he gets all flustered and approaches you like "hey, you're uh, i think you're really cute... do you wanna, yknow, go out sometime..."

and then he's wrapped around your finger LMFAO he's obsessed

he doesn't even bat an eye when you tell him you're trans

"so.... you're a dude..... but you weren't always a dude......??? woah......."

he's very new to the whole LGBTQ thing so he's probably gonna need you to explain what that means

that being said, he's going to make 100% sure you're comfortable

"what are you staring at?" "...you're so handsome..." (this exchange occurs every 5 minutes)

practically MAKES YOU borrow his clothes

yknow that meme where it's like "OOOOOOHH THEY'RE KISSING........ OOOOOOOHHH AND THEY'RE BOTH BOYS!!!!!!!" that's the two of you

aside from the fact that he tries to be super inclusive and make you feel comfortable, he honestly doesn't care

not in a bad way ofc :3

in a way where its just another thing about you that he loves

and oh my god does he LOVE you

he makes it his entire personality

"i love my boyfriend :3" "we know, todd. we know."

he's such a sweetheart oh my god

[abrthephantomq]

Soooo....

Turnabout Storyteller.

I had already vaguely known about Uendo having DID due to me not necessarily avoiding spoilers when reading fanfic, but...

I have so many thoughts on this as someone who HAS the disorder they're representing here.

Like, one, I definitely appreciated the way they revealed it -- during a Mood Matrix session. Having multiple sets of feelings and having them switch on and off like that is def a thing. I've/we've experienced that before.

But also -- before that, when Uendo was switching between his "characters" and everyone thought he was just putting on a performance? Yeah, see. They did that really well considering that like -- yes, the way alters hold the body/the face can be really different. They certainly felt like different people, which was really cool to see. I liked the different poses they had because as I played I was like, "Huh... is he the character with DID...? He is, right?"

The thing is, I'm like 80% certain that Uendo is the murderer, and THAT annoys me -- but I'm not done playing through the case, yet. I just started the second half of the trial, so.... I'll comment as I go.

But if I'm right and Uendo IS the murderer, I'm gonna have to roll my eyes because soooo many pieces of media use my disorder to show HEY SOMEONE WITH THIS COULD BE A KILLER AND NOT KNOWWWWW and I hate that. Because like.... no.

OH THANK GOD. Like 3 seconds into the send half of the trial and it's NOT Uendo. Yay. Yayyyyy. I'm actually really glad they did that subversion of the person-with-DID-is-the-killer trope. Thank fucking GOD.

SIMON GRABBING ATHENA when she starts to doubt she can prove Bucky's innocence is just -- fuck. Okay. Yeah, I see why the fandom loves that particular moment. (I love Simon so much omfg).

I am honestly loving this case and I actually really like the way they've presented Uendo -- it's simplified a bit for the sake of the audience, but at the same time, switching DO be like that. And you can certainly be co-conscious and share memory.

Like.... that's legitimately how our System works -- there's usually 2-3 of us up front at any given time, with someone generally more forward, while the other(s) listens / watches. Sometimes others push to the front. And there are 4 of us who more or less have access to the continual life happenings even if we don't always recollect specific details (or what we were feeling) later.

Also Owen being a LITTLE makes so much damn sense? Fuck, idk man, I love it. I kinda adore them.

I really really really got weary when Uendo's diagnosis was revealed because, y'know, the whole oh God pls tell me you're not the murderer even if it was kinda looking like you were.

That fucking balloon girl did it, didn't she? Jesus fucking Christ. I love that, but I also hate that. Also it's so unfair they made this chick so goddamned pretty.

Also man can I also say just how like.... they legitimately refer to Owen as a child, and Kisegawa with Ms., and -- that's actually a nice little piece of the writing here. Like... is it absolutely perfect? No. It's not. But let me tell you -- as someone with this disorder? Writing it and showing it for an audience is hard.

That whole, "everyone is unique" thing applies here -- every System is different. They all develop ways of functioning in order to blend in and protect themselves. Uendo may not have the denial bit that comes with this disorder (do you know how many times I find myself asking if I'm sure I'm not faking this thing? do you??? because like, it's a "rare" disorder, right? and was my trauma REALLY bad enough for me to have alters???? etc) -- but considering the confident way he, Patches, and Kisegawa speak about their experience with the disorder, I would imagine they've been in therapy for it for a while, now.

But also -- the three of them not being aware of Owen? Or denying his existence, at least? Well, they were either protecting him because he's so young, or they legitimately did not know since apparently he may only come forward when the body is drunk.

idk I love that Uendo et al was not the killer. Like so much. Thank FUCK.

Also that was a really fun case even if it was like, not entirely relevant to the overall story happening here in SOJ. I definitely enjoyed it.

[ryuichirou]

Replies

New week!

Replies mostly related to our recent posts, but some are miscellaneous (twst related and not). Also, there is a shitpost sketch at the end of the post lol

Anonymous asked:

Just a random question but what was your very first ship?

Can’t even say for certain because it’s been like 20 years already lol But the first one that I called a ship would probably be Cedric/Phobos from W.I.T.C.H.

Look at me loving backstabbing scheming douchebags since day one…

Anonymous asked:

I feel like their was two bodies after the twins delt with things, cause even tiny as heck I can see them taking bodies

(related to this post)

Aw come on, Anon, look at those innocent angels!! (you are absolutely right)

Anonymous asked:

hi i sent the cat dad ask, that was the CUTEST thing i’ve ever read in my entire life it was adorable and everything and more than what i’d hoped for omg!! my flowers are watered, my skin is clear, my illness is cure😭😭😭 THANK YOU SO MUCH!!

idia being the most enamored cat dad is so cute AAUGGHHH i think lilia would make matching outfits for him and his cat, maybe with pop music club’s help. vil cooking for his cat!!! 😭😭😭 oh his pretty kitty would have their own engraved bowl. i think vil would send so many pictures to his dad

all of this is extra cute to me with the idea that i had that these strays are probably leading difficult lives on the streets but aren’t scared of humans. it’d be a “to be loved is to be changed” moment (pls look it up it’s before and afters of sad cats and it’s SO CUTE). ok i’m sorry i’ll stop haranguing you about cats JSKDKDKS THANK YOU AGAIN

— shroudswap anon

(related to this post)

Aah, it was you, Shroudswap Anon!!

I am very happy you liked the post, once again thank you for the ask! <3 It really was a lovely one to write! Somehow, it’s easier to write wholesome stuff about boys caring for animals than for each other lol

But also, what have you done, now I’m thinking about Vil sending cat pics to his dad… His dad became a grandpa the day that cat chose Vil as his human lol I’m sure he is going to send them even more gifts than Vil buys for the cat + spoil the cat rotten as much as he can.

But also, what have you done [2], now I’m also thinking about how these strays would be so much happier and healthier with the boys taking care of them :( To be loved is to be changed indeed!! Just look at Jamil smiling to his cat lol

I’m always happy to talk about cats…

Anonymous asked:

Sister Idia must be the very image of a saint with his ethereal glow. Nevermind that the glow is coming from his hair, that's just a physical manifestation of God's grace, obviously.

Also be honest, are the sick nuns getting a healthy diet of shrooms in the infirmary? I guess that's one way to experience mystical ecstasy

(related to our new AU)

The symbolism is all here, Anon! That imagery suits Idia so well. I really want to draw him holding a lamb or something lol

To answer your question… people say that sister Jade cares for the sick ones so well that whenever it’s their time to go, they always die smiling <3 It’s like their pain just went away and they fell asleep peacefully~

So yes, he does feed them with stuff they’re not quite supposed to eat and add some funky additions to the stuff he injects them with lol

m1lk-n-cook1es asked:

The nun au reminds me of a Little Mermaid fanfic from the same author as "Once Upon A Nightmare" that I told you a while back, where mermaids are more inhuman, with tentacles that look like fins in the distance, claws and fangs, and Ariel banging Eric (who is a trans guy) and impregnating him with her eggs

Dark themes and mermaids are always fun!! In fact, I think people should consider merpeople to be dangerous more often lol

Fun idea for a fic though :) Poor Eric lol

Anonymous asked:

I saw your Gidel and Fellow doodle on your twitter about the name change and I LOVE THAT SO MUCH cause I'm also thinking the same thing 🤣

"It's for our disguise Giddy!~" 🦊

Everyone calls him all sort of different names, Fellow said so himself (Episode 1-3) 😆

This bitch probably has done a lot of name changes for his con jobs n shit. (¬‿¬) 💚

(referring to this sketch from a 🔑twt acc, since it’s not for ko-fi and just a shitpost, here you go. He can’t even read the papers...)

Thank you Anon!! <3 Just like any other person I really hate that name change, but thinking about Fellow having lots of different names pacifies me a little bit lol Well, at least it makes me laugh and not want to break walls.

I wonder if Fellow has a guy that helps him out with fake ids… maybe his bosses make it easier for him these days; he probably used to go to various shady people before. But then again, they probably don’t always need to have papers… just come up with a name and go! Right, Ernesto? Good grief…

tardigrade-misfit asked:

Silver looks so adorable in his lil hoodie meanwhile Sebek looks like he only agreed to wear it because it was Malleus themed lol

(related to this post)

Thank you! Yeah, Silver is a cutie pie, as always lol Sebek should wear that hoodie with pride! He is closer to his beautiful waka-sama with those little horns on his hood.

I love these hoodies a lot; they are from that one drawing that Yana did of Diasomnia boys going to a movie theater. Katsu and I both are so obsessed with it; they look so adorable wearing those! I wish Yana did more sketches with characters hanging out like that, but of course I am grateful for everything she already does…

Anonymous asked:

I saw the latest comic about Gidel and Fellow Honest (I refuse to use the English names) on kofi and I think I have a proposition. I’ll be their sugar whatever but I get to touch their fuzzy ears now and again. Do you think they’d accept my terms?

Since we got this ask the same day we posted previously mentioned sketch (also a comic), I assumed you were referring to this one as well, but come to think about it we did have a Gidel and Fellow comic posted on ko-fi the other week…

Regardless! I think you absolutely should be their sugar whatever (… parent?), their sponsor and their financier lol Fellow will refuse at first, but it’s just because he is a bit prideful; maybe after some fuzzy ear touching he’ll reconsider. Keep petting the fox! The little cat will help you.

Anonymous asked:

I too used to hate all things girly when I was younger. Now I’m grown and like to wear kawaii clothes and will kick the asses of those who say otherwise  (◕‿◕✿)

This is exactly what Vil would’ve wanted for you, Anon. And this is exactly what he wants for Epel. 💪😔

Anonymous asked:

Do you do any chesward here?

Nope! Sorry.

[missgavi]

NSFW Alphabet - Pablo Gavi

authors note : sorry for being MIA y'all, sooo, to apologise for it here is a full fic. (my first ever full fic might I add) hope you all enjoy it !!

nsfw under the cut

a = aftercare ( what is he like after sex ) 

As much as I would like to say he's extremely sweet and caring and puts you first, he's a teenage boy. He is aware that some bit of aftercare is always need it and does the bare minimum but he isn't mature enough to realise HOW important aftercare is . I can see him getting up to throw away the condom and on his way back he'd bring you a towel and wipe you down while kissing your knee. Maybe he'd go to the kitchen and grab some water for the both of you and after that he'd get into bed and cuddle you to bed but that's about it. He still has more to learn but I see him willing to in the future. 

b = body part ( what's his favourite body part on him and his partner) 

on him, it's definitely his defined abdomen. he knows girls dig it and he definitely gets cocky about it. not to mention he's proud to brag about it from all his intense hours of training. he also loves it when you kiss his abs and will constantly tease you about it. sometimes, when he knows you're watching a game, he will intentionally raise his shirt to wipe some sweat of his forehead when actually he's just showing off his abs. 

on you, he's definitely a tits guy. as most teenagers he is absolutely obsessed with boobs. yes, he likes ass and thighs as well but he isn't mature yet to fully appreciate them yet. so , tits it is. he absolutely adores it when you wear a more fitted top that shows cleavage or one of those short silk dresses that hug your breasts perfectly. not to mention he loves to see them bounce when you ride him or when he fucks you into the mattress . you always have hickeys, marks and bites all over them and you always scold him for it but he just shrugs and keeps doing it. 

c = cum ( anything to do with cum ) 

coming inside of you is a huge no. he isn't a fan of becoming a teen dad so he always uses extra safe condoms even if you are on the pill. maybe sometimes he'll pull out, get rid of the condom and spill over your tits but that's about it. he isn't taking any chances. 

d = dirty secret ( one of his dirty secrets ) 

he has a password protected album on his phone full of pictures and videos of you. either ones you sent him when he was away, dressed only in lingerie or nothing at all or some he took of you.his favourite video is one he took of you while you sucked him off. he's always extremely careful to not show his face in any of the videos and besides the two of you no one knows about the album. he doesn't want that piece of information to fall into the wrong hands.

e = experience ( how experienced is he ) 

ok so listen very carefully. if you aren't aware of it already, Spanish boys are ones of Europes biggest play boys ever. fact. they learn to flirt before learning to walk. I don't get why all fanfic writers portray Gavi as some dumb and unexperienced teenager as if he isn't a horny 18 years old. not to mention that yeah sure, he seems sweet and shy but for gods sake, he's the youngest player for FC Barcelona. He's also the youngest World Cup scorer in the world. He's good , he's hot an he knows it. he definitely isn't some scared little virgin. Sure, there is space to learn and improve but he knows what he's doing and he absolutely knows how to make you feel good. 

f = favourite position ( his favourite position to have sex ) 

cowgirl. he adores it when you ride. mostly because he can play with your tits but also because it doesn't require to much force from seeing as his legs are tired most of the time from practice. this way he can just relax while you set a pace enjoyable for both of you. oh but god forbid you want to tease him , he will immediately grab your hips and start thrusting up into you or flip you around and pound you into the mattress. 

g = goofy ( is he goofy or serious during sex ? ) 

I can see him as both actually. if he's angry or stressed out or just in the mood for a rough fuck, be sure he'll fuck you into the next day without as much as a smirk on his lips. but , mostly in the morning, he's a sucker for soft sex where he leans in to kiss you passionately and then pull back giggling while looking in your eyes, a huge boyish grin on his face. 

h = hair ( how well groomed he is and if the carpet matches the drapes) 

he's definitely taking care of that area. he shaves when needed and keeps things nice and trimmed down there. not completely bare but definitely tidied. 

i = intimacy ( how is he during the moment ) 

it definitely depends on his mood, Pablo can play both ways. his short temper is definitely a fan of rough , fast and intense sex, loving the powerful feeling of a quick fuck but again, he's a sucker for soft and intimate sex. as all teenagers he will never admit it but he craves that deeper connections and just loves to be held and softly caressed. on of his favourite positions for soft sex is spooning. in the morning he'll just slip right in and gently fuck you awake while hugging you close to his chest. 

j = jack off (masturbation headcanon )

he's a teenage boy. he'll rub one out 24/7 . if he has you in reach, he will definitely fuck you instead of his fist but if he's away for a game, wakes up alone in the bed or has some extra time in the shower he'll definitely give himself a little release. his favourite way so to say to jack off is when he's away for game and that's when that little photo/video album will come in handy, a video or candid photo of you always doing the trick for a quick release.

k = kink ( one or more of their kinks ) 

this might sound a bit weird for him seeing as he is still young but he loves to dominate you. on the field , he's always the youngest and people love to kick him around, and that sometimes can make him feel powerless. so, in result to that, he loves to feel powerful in the bedroom. he adores when you listen to him and is always willing to praise you up to the heavens for it . but also, he gets a kick out of you being bratty. he's obsessed with putting you back in your place. 

l = location ( favourite place to have sex ) 

his house. literally any place in his house. bedroom, kitchen counter, bathroom, couch etc. it's his own little safe place and he loves to fuck you there. he also likes it that it's risk free. he isn't a big fan of getting caught while his dick is down your throat or his fingers buried in your cunt. 

m = motivation ( what gets him going ) 

anything. literally anything. something as innocent as putting lip gloss on or smelling your perfume. this boy will get turned on by anything. his favourite how ever is when you give him those eye. for instance, if he's across the room talking to someone and meets your sultry eyes, he's done for.

n = no ( something he wouldn't do ) 

coming inside of you. he doesn't care if you're on birth control, he isn't taking any chances. he's down to coming on your ass or tits, even your stomach but he for sure doesn't want to risk getting you pregnant. it's too much of a risk for him. 

o = oral ( preferences on oral ? does he enjoy more giving or receiving ?)

i don't know what y'all are on but Gavi, like most teenage boys, definitely prefers receiving over giving. he's down to give head and his ego explodes each time you praise him. however, he definitely gets a bigger kick out of seeing you on your knees for him, looking up with glassy eyes while his hand is tangled in your hair. 

p = pace ( what's his pace ?)

Gavi fucks like he plays, fast, rough and passionate. His fiery temper fuels him to go all the way out. Don't get me wrong, he loves a good session of love making in the early mornings, when he's tired or when he's in a romantic mood but most of the time he fucks. hard. 

q = quickie ( what's his opinions on quickies ) 

he's a sucker for quickies as long as they are safe. it means he's totally down to quickly fuck you before going out or have quick session in the shower but he isn't a huge fan of fucking in risky places like club bathrooms. he's way too scared someone might recognise him and he doesn't want to ruin his reputation just cause his downstairs friend can't wait 5 minutes. 

r = risk ( is he a risk taker , is he up for new things ) 

once again, he's down for everything besides breeding as long as it's in the security of his bedroom. 

s = stamina ( how many rounds can he go for ? what's his stamina like ) 

for anyone who hasn't see Gavi playing, this man is constantly running from one end of the field to another. If he gets knocked down , almost instantly he's back up. this man's stamina is incredible. not to mention the endless intensive training hours. he definitely can go for a few rounds one after the other. perks of being a high performance athlete. (danny ric)

t = toys ( does he own any toys ? does he like using them on you ) 

he himself hasn't purchased any toys but he's down to teasing you with your vibrator. that is until he gets bored and fucks you into the mattress. he is however thinking about buying some ties or maybe handcuffs just so he can tie you up with something other than his black tie. 

u = unfair ( how unfair is he ? does he like to tease you ) 

i don't care what any of you say about this, Pablo is one of the biggest teases on this planet. He absolutely adores to tease you and reducing you to a begging mess. wether he's innocently caressing you during dinner or denying your orgasm for the third time this night, he will tease you for breakfast, lunch and dinner.

v = volume ( how loud is he ? how loud does he want his partner to be ?)

gavi himself isn't too loud in the bedroom. mostly grunts and groans and maybe the occasional whimper when he lets you tease him before he gets agitated and pounds you into the next week. however, he thrives of hearing you moan and whine under him. it's music to his ears. the more you whimper the more his ego grows and his hips snap faster against yours.

w = wildcard ( random handcanon) 

[ as mentioned earlier, gavi prefers receiving over giving. oh but when he gives, he isn't playing]

pablos lips were busy sucking marks onto your inner thighs while you whine for him to move them to your pussy. 

“come on princesa, you know whining isn’t gonna get you what you want. tell me what you really want and i’ll give it to you,” he says, biting your thigh softly before soothing it with his tongue. 

“pablo please,” you continue to whine, trying to wiggle your hips but he just pins them down. “please what, bebe?”

“i want your tongue,” you whine. “and where do you want my tongue?” he asks, continuing to mark up your inner thighs as he kissed his way up your body. 

“here?” he asks, kissing your stomach up to your tits where he’d leave a few more hickeys. “or here?” he continues as he sucks on your nipple. 

“pablo,” you whine. “come on bebe, just tell me where you want my tongue,” gavi coos at you. 

“my pussy! please, i need your tongue in my pussy!” you finally let out and he moves his head back down between your thighs. 

“now was that so hard?” he asks before diving into your pussy, eating it like a starved man, bringing you to as many orgasms as you wanted.

the next day, as you’re getting ready, you finally notice all of the purple marks he left on your skin. 

“pablo!” you yell at him and he runs into the room, worried that something had happened. 

“what’s wrong corazon?” gavi asks as he saw the glare on your face. “what’s wrong? look at me! i look like i got attacked by leeches!” you exclaim, pointing at all the marks on your neck, chest and thighs while he just had a smug look on his face. 

“you look so pretty covered in my marks though,” he grins. “in fact…” he starts as he moves behind you and wraps his arms around your waist, pulling you back against his chest. 

“why don’t i give you some more?”

x = x-ray ( let's see what's going on underneath those clothes ) 

listen, if he was anything out of this world we would have known by now from those football jersey's close ups but he's doing more than fine. i see him more on the lengthier side rather than thickness. 

y = yearning ( how high is their sex drive ?) 

through the roof. this man would fuck you every breathing second if he could. 

z = zzz ( how fast does he fall asleep after sex ?) 

if he's tired and all cuddled up besides you, he's out like light. but in other cases he's up for a little bit of pillow talk before dozing off. 

[studentfilmyoulying]

can u feed me another brim fanfic😭 I love brim too much

It took a while, but absolutely :3 bc same tbh

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Ship: Brim (Brian Thomas x Tim Wright

Length: ~700 Words

Trigger warnings: none

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Brian pulled up to the Blockbuster, Tim in the passenger seat; the sun was starting to set and warm colors washed over everything. He starts to get out of the car and realizes Tim isn't following suit. 

"C'mon Tim, you gotta help pick out a movie for tonight," he reached over and casually brushed Tim's hair out of his eyes, doing his best to ignore how this made the other man blush. 

"Brian, I told you, I'm not going in with all this makeup on my face. I don't know why Kralie even bothers; his camera is too shitty to pick it up anyways," Tim huffed. 

"Oh, please, you can barely tell, and plus, it looks good on you. It highlights your masculine features and those sexy as fuck sideburns," Brian comments sarcastically before bursting into laughter as his friend flipped him off and rolled his eyes. 

"You know you love them, Bri. Alright, fine, I'll go in, but if I get hate-crimed for being a man wearing makeup in Alabama, it's on you." 

Brian stifled his laughter as they both got out and went into the Blockbuster. They walked straight to the VHS section as neither of them had a DVD player yet, and Tim claims it "looks more authentic," whatever that means. He immediately picks up some 80s dark fantasy film with barely clothed women on the front and shows it to Tim, waggling his brows at him suggestively. He responds by smacking him on the back of his head (on him tippy toes) and keeps looking. 

"What're you in the mood for tonight?" 

Tim scans the shelves before picking one up, "How about My Little Pony—A Very Minty Christmas, eh? Seems like a real thriller." 

"I hate you," Brian says as he tries not to draw too much attention to them with his raucous laughter. He picks up one they haven't seen before and suggests it. "How about this one? Looks interesting," 

"I'm down; let's go pick out some snacks." Tim then heads over to the snack area, where he grabs a box of Muddy Bears, Snowcaps, and Cookie Dough Bites. Brian grabs a box of popcorn, and they go checkout. Once they finish, they pile back into Brian's car and head over to his place for a movie night. 

~ 

They get to Brian's place as the sky tints the front lawn purple with the setting sun. After getting inside, the two men easily slip into their usual roles. Tim prepares the popcorn and snacks; Brian sets up the movie and makes the living room cozy. It just became routine to them after awhile, and it was easier this way. 

Popcorn popped, and movie started, they cuddled up together on the couch with a blanket thrown over their laps. As if knowing the movie was about to begin, the sun finished it's descent to the horizon and it was now dark outside, setting the mood perfectly. 

The title screen came up; "The Forgotten" appeared on screen as Tim leans in to rest his head against Brian. The taller man returns the gesture by grabbing Tim's hand under the blanket and giving it a gentle squeeze. 

~ 

As quickly as it began, it was over. Brian disentangled himself from Tim, much to the others disappointment, and turned the lights on. 

"I'm still not sure if that was supposed to be God or aliens in the sky." 

""I'm gonna go with Aliens; why would God do experiments on people?" Brian responds as he sits back down. 

"I mean, why wouldn't he?" Almost as soon as Brian was situated on the couch, Tim got all over him again. 

He rolled his eyes at the sassy remark and kissed the top of Tim's head, making the other man wriggle in place like an overly-excited puppy. 

Tim continues, "I think it was God, and if God ever took away my memories of you, fuck, I'd challenge God to give you back too. Julianne Moore had the right idea. I'd be so lost and empty if I ever forgot you." 

"Well, thankfully," Brian begins, "that will never. Ever. Ever. Ever. Ever. Happen," and with each "ever," Brian peppered Tim's face with kisses, ending with a big smooch right on his lips. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

AAAAA I had such a good time writing this!! It's so nostalgic and cozy! pls send more requests/asks :3

[teruuu]

Yo, First Of all this is my first ask on tumblr so i'll try to not be too much! but i gotta say your art and writing is beautiful (and hot lmao). Second of all, i'm interested in the differences between the compulsion of flesh AU and The Highschool one. it's obvious the high school narilamb is 100x more healthy than the compulsion one. but truth is: are they actually completely healthy? i like to depict them as a polar oposite of your main narinder and lamb but i can't say if everything is going to be okay between these two high school students. thank you very much, have a nice day & sorry for anything (⁄ ⁄>⁄ ▽ ⁄<⁄ ⁄). (btw sorry for any wrong word english is not my first language.)

Oh my god you are SO cute and I mean this in the nicest way possible ╰(*´︶`*)╯♡ gosh, I’m your first ask, what an honor! A little (gentle) side note though, N.E.V.E.R. Hold back on me when it comes to long asks! I love long asks the most. It makes me giggle like a little schoolgirl TEEHEE. I’ll try my best to not go full Shakespeare with my response so it’s easier to understand.

My High School AU is based off of a fanfic that I made in the past for a korean fandom (I already deleted it 😭). The Compulsion of Flesh AU’s genre is horror. Acting as a pretty huge contrast to it is the High School AU, which is Slice of Life. The High School AU’s plot is not (fully) a soft and gentle one, it’s meant to be angsty to reflect the teenage experience. Narinder and Lamb in this AU are not at all experienced in romance. This means that emotions, especially love, will be difficult for them to navigate. Unlike in Compulsion where the two view their obsessions/desires in the same light as love, it’s hard for the two in High School AU to understand whether or not what they truly feel for one another is romantic. After all, they’ve never truly experienced what it feels like to fall for someone. It’ll be a challenge for them especially when they’ve already established their relationship whether or not they still even like each other!

As is already obvious, Compulsion AU’s relationship is pretty dark and twisted. Instead of fixing the toxic flaws in their relationship, they instead support and encourage it. Unlike Compulsion AU however, High School AU Nari and Lamb will recognize each other’s flaws and have conflicts about it. They naturally will fight against one another’s beliefs and they’ll argue with each other like how normal, real-world couples do. They’ll work their way through those conflicts and find methods to fix their own flaws, even if it isn’t comfortable.

Also unlike Compulsion of Flesh, High School AU’s Nari and Lamb are completely different. Compulsion Nari and Lamb are parallels to one another, mirroring each other in many ways, but in High School AU they’re absolute opposites. Narinder is wealthy and has a good life, whereas the Lamb struggles to make a living—but that doesn’t mean Narinder doesn’t experience pain or the Lamb’s life is completely all about hardship. It’s in these differences that they find themselves clashing with one another, even before they become a couple. So, what do they do about it? They talk, of course. In all my more positive works I always make my couples communicate with one another, because that’s the key to a positive and long-lasting relationship.

So, to answer your question, ehh??? I mean think about it, they’re a normal couple. Do you think all normal couples are completely healthy? I don’t think so. But High School AU Nari and Lamb will certainly try to be a healthy couple to maintain what they have. Of course it’ll be a struggle—that’s what life’s all about, struggling—but at the end of the day, they’ll keep trying for one another because of the love they share.

So, TLDR …

Differences:

Compulsion AU — Toxic, doesn’t communicate properly, continually reinforces toxic qualities, mirror each other

High School AU — Normal couple, communicates, discourages unhealthy aspects of the relationship, opposites of one another

Are they (HS AU) healthy or not:

Healthy… or, they certainly try to be.

[skatingbi]

WELCOME TO PART 3 OF MY SANJI WITH HETEROCHROMIA SERIES!!!!

Oh my god. Yall are insane. 700+ Notes for part one of this series alone is crazy (Crazy? I was- *gets shot*). So heres part 3. I'll probably have to publish all this onto AO3 soon bc shits getting outta hand, but I like posting on this silly little site so I'll still be posting on here.

Uhhh this was posted WAY later than I anticipated bc i had a gnarly depressive episode and had to enroll into uni, but there aint no way id abandon this series, its too fun and i love experimenting with my baby writing style as i call it.

Okay thats it, just thank u all sm for enjoying my silly little series :) u guys are so sweet!!

P.S. Constructive criticism is OKAY! I havent written fanfic in like...10 years so since middle school. Im a baby at this and I understand if I may have several errors so pls lemme know if theres grammar mistakes!

Sanji With Heterochromia Series Part 3 below 🔻

Sanji lied. He does like the idiot. More than he's willing to admit. A few days after their conversation, Zoro distances himself. It leaves a nasty feeling in his gut similar to nausea but different from actually wanting to throw up. It feels apprehensive. He's waiting for something, but he doesn't know what yet. Sanji hates it. He hates how confused he is and how much he actually wants Zoro to touch him again. He hates the burning linger of scarred knuckles on his cheekbone that follows him wherever he goes.

He hates these feelings because he never learned how to really process them. He doesn't know if he has to blame himself, his shitty excuse of a father, or Zeff. Well, maybe not Zeff. The old man had enough on his plate while raising him as it was. Sanji decides to blame it on Judge because honestly, the root of most of his issues stems from that shitty old man anyway. Placing the blame on someone does little to actually help, but it's a distraction from his growing realization of how much he cares for Zoro.

He cares for Zoro. No, he holds an unreasonable amount of affection for the scarred swordsman that haunts his thoughts now more than ever. Fuck questioning sexuality when it's undeniable that he's absolutely whipped for the big idiot. Theres no room for denial anymore, not when his touch had become branded across Sanji's skin for the foreseeable future.

Stress cooking does little to soothe him and it's the same with smoking. At least Luffy gets to enjoy snacks to his hearts content. Its the little things, he tries to tell himself. He also reflects on his conversation with Zoro. How he honestly felt afraid of what he felt when the swordsman confronted him. He felt afraid of someone genuinely caring for his emotional wellbeing. He's anxious over what that means, what it would do to him if Zoro truely meant what he said. All the things voiced about him and the implications that he's...handsome in the eyes of Zoro.

Sanji is emotional. It comes with him being sentimental as well. He's the black sheep of his biological family in every way. He loved too hard, and got hurt too fast. He loved even when it ended in betrayal. Secretly, he loves unconditionally. What would happen if he loved Zoro like that, and what if it already happened and he's too late to stop it? Would Zoro hurt him just like everyone else has? Would he be pushed away eventually after the thrill of their theoretical short lived relationship?

It keeps him up at night, that conversation replaying in his head as he stares at Zoro's sleeping silhouette. He falls asleep to his breathing, echoing throughout the room over everyone else's breath and snores. He wakes up every morning before the sun greets him and pretends nothing happened in his dreams where Zoro's gentle touch and admiration lingers softly over his mind.

Zoro knows. Well, not exactly. He's not a mind reader like how Luffy seems to be, but he knows that distancing himself from Sanji is actually doing the opposite of what he thought it would do. At this point, the swordsman isnt sure where to go from here.

Sanji's actions contradict his words. Sanji stares at Zoro. Not so much that it's s uncomfortable but it's enough to be noticeable. Sometimes he swears he can see Sanji's eyes dart across his face and down to his lips before looking away. It's confusing. Didnt Sanji hate Zoro's advances towards him? Because thats what they were in hindsight.

Zoro was unconciously flirting with the cook in his own weird way. And yeah, he's a little stupid for not realizing the implications behind his actions at first, but it all started as genuine curiosity. He didnt mean for it to affect their rivalry. Now, he's not sure where to go from here.

It's driven him between a rock and a hard place and unforfunately for him, Nami decides to intervene again. This time, Nami drags Zoro to her and Robin's shared room on the Sunny for privacy and possibly interrogation. He's certain that this time he wont be able to escape. Unfortunate.

"Okay, so heres how this is gonna go," Zoro and Nami are now seated across from each other, where theres two beds and enough room for decent sized dressers on each side. Zoro sits on what he assums is Robin's bed with his arms crossed, "You will tell me everything- And i mean it! I will know if youre lying -and I will help you. Im sick and tired of you both being miserable and gay! It's giving everyone second hand embaressment." She demands, narrowing her eyes with a challenge for Zoro to protest or say no.

Zoro is smart enough to know what is and isn't a losing battle. This is one of those. Nami can be terrifyingly persistent once she sets her mind on something, and today it seems to be resolving the weird and awkward tension between him and Sanji. The swordsman resigns himself to his fate quickly and prepares himself to be trapped here on Robin's bed for the foreseeable future.

"Fine witch," Zoro sighs, "But if you tell anyone I will not be responsible for my actions." He huffs out in acceptance for his inevitable interrogation.

"Oh please like that'll actually scare me. Plus besties never snitch." Nami rolls her eyes. She gets comfortable on her bed and look at zoro expectantly. He rolls his eyes and relaxes his posture a bit.

Zoro starts talking, beginning with the first instance of his realization of Sanji having dual colored eyes, leaving out a lot of "unimportant" details. He mentions the second, and the third instance, and their conversation from a few days ago and how he tried to respect Sanji's establishment of a boundary and how he's confused now that Sanji stares at him. Nami listens with her chin resting on her fist and nodding along the way, surprisingly not interrupting once. He finishes speaking and he knows his face is red with embaressment, but he feigns nonchalance and waits for Nami's input.

"Zoro," Nami sighs, "Youre the dumbest bitch I know." She says while giving the man a look of sympathy, but not one that actually means it. More like the look of someone who is so incredibly done with your shit that they have no choice but to tell you so.

"What the fuck, Nami!? Im not dumb!" The swordsman retorts loudly.

"Anyways," his best friend ignores his arguing in favor of getting to the task at hand, "Luckily, this is fixable. For making the entire crew feel awkward for two weeks, I'm adding a 200 percent tax increase to your debt." She smiles mischeviously, and thats when Zoro realizes that one, he's never getting out of debt, and two, he's been forced to accept Nami's help in unfucking up his unconcious attempts to flirt with Sanji.

"First order of business is that you have absolutely no game." Nami begins with a shit eating grin to match the absolutely insulting statement. Zoro briefly reconsiders their friendship.

"Shut the fuck up I obviously do." He rolls his eyes. Nami gives him the look. The one where her eyebrows are raised and her chin is tilted down slightly, matching the frown. It's that look she makes when she's trying to say 'Are you sure?' or 'Reconsider what you just said.' and it grates at Zoro's already increasing agitation.

He decides not to entertain her with a reply.

"Anyway," Nami sighs, massaging the space between her eyes with her thumb and forefinger to stave off a growing headache, "Im teaching you how to flirt. No, you cannot work out in front of Sanji- dont give me that look you muscle brained idiot!" She says while looking at Zoro's ever increasing looks of annoyance and audacity, because first of all, no he definitely was not going to do that, and second of all, it could hypothetically work. Probably.

"Fine," He huffs. He'll let the witch do whatever. It's not like theres anyone else he can talk to on the ship about this anyway, "No promises that I'll actually do what you tell me."

"Fucking- oh my god why am I friends with you?!" Nami complains before flopping down on her bed, groaning loudly at Zoro's malicious cooperation. Zoro basks in the momentary power he has in this situation.

For the next few hours, Nami allows Zoro to stay in the womens quarters for the sole purpose of learning how to actually flirt. He's not sure if shes a reliable source, being a lesbian and also having a girlfriend already, but if he voiced this opinion out loud the redhead would probably kick him out. He only restrains himself because this room is the only one so far where he feels the least amount of awkwardness regarding his situation with Sanji.

Robin stops by every now and then and gives him a smile. It doesnt make him feel very comfortable but it's the thought that counts. She doesnt say anything about him being there, anyway. He makes an effort to at least not lay on the bed he's sitting on, though. He may be lazy but he does hold enough respect for the women in the crew to not fuck with their shared safe space.

Suddenly, it's the evening and dinner is around the corner. Nami shoves a barely enlightened mossy swordsman out of the womens bedroom to finally be free of that headache. Also known as a crash course to flirting with your rival/friend/whatever the fuck else they got going on.

Zoro makes his way to the gallery, taking his time to look out and observe the oncoming sunset that bathes the sky in shades of pink, orange, blue, and yellow. It would be a pretty sight to fall asleep to, he thinks, but the cook would kick his ass off the ship if he decides to sleep through dinner again.

Entering the gallery, everyone except Nami is already there. She's right behind him a second later and taking her seat at the kitchen table.

Numerous conversations are heard as food is served. Franky and Usopp are wildly talking about different types of projectiles the sunny could use, Nami and robin are talking amongst each other in low voices, giggling in between sentences. Chopper and luffy are laughing together, and Zoro goes to sit next to luffy like he usually does. Just as he sits down, the cook lands a kick to his mid back, making Zoro scowl.

"The fucks that for!?"

Sanji rolls his eyes while placing plates of food down for the crew, "For being late, dumbass."

"Nami is late too!"

"And? She'd never be late on purpose, Marimo." as Sanji speaks, he dodges the hilt of Zoro's sword to his side instinctively and has the audacity to give a cheeky grin.

Dinner passes by normally. Everyone's loud conversations meld together gradually and soon everyone except Sanji and Zoro leave. Zoro takes his usual spot beside the cook, drying dishes and leaving them on a towel afterwards so they can both put them away.

Zoro has half the mind to bring up Sanji's staring, but decides against it. It leaves the air silent, neither him nor Sanji speaking up as they finish their side work for the night. Even then, Zoro's unable to speak when Sanji immediately leaves afterwards without a word.

The kitchen feels empty without their bickering, and Zoro is determined to bring that life back into it. He just needs to figure out how.

Despite Nami's advice, Zoro has an idea. If the idiot cook doesnt see what he sees (His pretty face first of all, but Zoro thinks of his strength too. How Sanji easiely brushes off conflict like it's nothing despite the injuries that'll heal far faster than his own), then he'll make him see it. Frilly words never were Zoro's style, anyways.

One night before they all go to sleep and Zoro takes night watch, he corners the blond in the bathroom. Nami would probably be kicking his ass because of his timing, but a mirror is needed for his plan to work and the bathroom is the only place with one other than the women's bedroom.

When Zoro enters, Sanji turns to look at him before going back to washing his hair, his back towards Zoro. "Leave me alone, Moss, I'm im not in the fuckin mood," He grumbles to Zoro, who stands there waiting for Sanji to stop talking.

"Nope, I need a mirror for this and for you to listen for five minutes." Zoro replies, and when Sanji turns to argue his protests are gone from his lips when he sees a look of determination. Confused, annoyed, and also curious, Sanji doesn't reply.

Zoro walks up to Sanji until he's standing right behind him. The swordsman moves to kneel so they're relatively at the same height, but the stool makes Sanji slightly taller as he sits there and eyes Zoro warily.

"Whats going on with you, Moss? I'm trying to wash my hair." Sanji says, and Zoro can tell an insult dies on his tongue when he places his hands on Sanji's shoulders.

Zoro turns Sanji in front of the mirrior in the bathroom, the stool Sanji is seated on creaking lightly and scratching against the tile. Sanji remains speechless, still unable to brush off Zoro's palms on his bare shoulders like how he'd usually do.

"Tell me what you see, cook" He says, uncharacteristically soft underneath the edge his voice always seems to have. Sanji flinches when the swordsman's calloused hands tuck his frings behind his ear, displaying his face to them both.

"What the hell is up with you? Did Luffy hit your head too hard?" Sanji furrows his eyebrows at the mirror and looks at Zoro. Zoro huffs and rolls his eyes.

"Just tell me what you see about yourself, shit cook, I'll leave ya alone after or whatever." He grumbles back, the baritone of his voice vibrates against Sanji's back. It reminds him of Zoro's compliment, his face too close to his while they stand on the deck of the Sunny just days ago. He chooses to ignore how it makes him shiver.

He looks at himself in the mirror, and his first instinct is to look away. Zoro, being the perceptive bastard that he is, notices and squeezes his shoulders in a way thats strangely reassuring.

"It doesnt have to be fancy, cook, I know you like to use big words 'n shit so don't make your brain fuckin explode." Sanji bristles a bit at that but bites back a nasty insult so he can entertain Zoro's weird exercise on his own self reflection.

In the mirror he always sees his mom at first, but with both eyes uncovered and his hair pushed back for once, he sees himself. The first thing he sees is his eyebrows and eyes. He decides not to bring up his eyebrows.

"Well, for your information I see my eyes, but you already know that."

Zoro stays silent, and Sanji shuffles in his seat. He's suddenly aware he was literally in the middle of rinsing his hair of shampoo a few minutes ago and the entire situation is both awkward and uncharacteristic of Zoro in multiple ways. It's out of character, and he should have kicked out the moss ball when he had the chance, but now in the too small bathroom of the Sunny he feels like it's only him and Zoro. It leaves a weightless feeling in his chest, settling in with the creeping anxiety of looking at his own reflection. The contrasting feelings make him hesitate before he speaks.

"I see.." He hesitates, not knowing exactly what Zoro is getting from this or what he wants to hear, "My eyebrows, I guess. Wait, you've never seen both at once." Sanji chuckles at that, because his eyebrows are certainly something. The curl points in the same direction, but it's unnoticeable with how he wears his hair.

"Yeah, they're weird as fuck." Zoro mumbles, and the blond has to laugh or else the swordsman's voice would get to his head.

"Okay, I also see freckles. Those are new. Only started showing up when I joined you all." And Sanji now notices how the freckles cluster on the bridge of his nose, his cheekbones, and his shoulders. They're scattered everywhere else on his body.

Sanji starts to realize the point of Zoro's questioning now. He looks at the fogged mirror, just visible enough to notice how his blush not only spreads across his cheeks but also down his neck. Embarrassing. This whole situation is embarrassing not only because of where they are but also because he's realizing that Zoro is trying to make a point that is too close to unearthing his insecurities. He would have expected this from Luffy, but sometimes he forgets how Zoro's intelligence is masked behind his swordsmanship and how much he sleeps during the day.

And he's naked, but honestly thats the least of his problems at the moment.

"I see my hair, I guess?" Sanji tries to only focus on his face. Its not easier, but it also sets up a mental boundary. Zoro hums, looking at Sanji through the mirror. Sanji hesitates before speaking again, "My hair is actually wavy," He thinks about his mom's wavy blonde hair, and how he always thought it looked pretty even before she passed, "Its damaged, though. Straightened to hell and back with one of those hot combs."

Sanji thinks back to the hot combs. They were old as shit, the kind that needed to be heated up with a flame. The memories make him chuckle a bit, and Zoro smiles back. The same smile he wore when they sparred on the deck, with his dimples visible yet again to confirm to Sanji that he does have them.

His smile makes his heart skip a beat, like drums he'd hear in one of those old instrumental CDs he kept in his room as a kid. Before he has the chance to back away, to push Zoro out the door and forget this ever happened, Zoro straightens his back again.

He turns in his stool to look up at Zoro and he's not sure what the swordsman sees right now, but he's afraid to ask as his gaze is soft. So damn soft as he looks at him and his hand reaches again to pull his hair hair back over his eye like it was before. Stringy strands of heat damaged locks fall back into place.

Then he leaves. He just...leaves. The damn idiot just turns around and walks out the door like nothing even happened.

Thats the second time this has happened yet the first where Sanji is the one on the receiving end of it, and it makes him grab his towel to bunch it up in his fists and let out a scream into it as he processes everything. He processes how he was forced to notice how Zoro looked at him, and it was Zoro's own weird fucking way of saying "You're beautiful".

"He's so fucking ridiculous oh my god.." Sanji mumbles into the towel. His hair routine is officially long forgotten.