Ishipgays
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..His voice. Victor couldn’t help but wonder. Is it as considerate as his knocking? His steps? His writing? The very way he functions? He sees a letter pop out of the corner of his eye through the door under the chain. He has a glove on. Is that why his knock is the way it is? It’s unique. Victor reaches forward to hold the letter in his fingers, his very own letter, and the masked man walks away. He slowly closes the door, and he places the letter against his chest.
His very own letter.
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Victor Grantz finds the very movement of Aesop Carl beautiful.
Bookmarked by Ishipgays
05 Oct 2026
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Soft Like Cotton, Sweet Like Letters by Cindermoth
Fandoms: 第五人格 | Identity V (Video Game)
16 Jan 2026
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The sterile florescent lights of the lab flickered ever so slightly overhead. Not enough for most to notice, but they buzzed just loud enough that aesops keen ears could pick up on the grating, inconsistent noise. And their brightness could nearly rival the sun itself. His patience was wearing thin, and he was counting down the minutes until he could head back to his dorm and retreat under the comfort of his blankets in his soft pajamas.
Or: Aesop gets sensory overload and Victor is a good boyfriend
Bookmarked by Ishipgays
05 Oct 2026
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Hroptatyr waits for him in the book every night. Pierro learns why addicts never want to quit.
Bookmarked by Ishipgays
04 Oct 2026
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“Can you tell me what the world is like in the future?”
(Am I there?)
“What kind of person am I in your time?”
(Am I yours?)
“Eftirvit,” Hroptatyr says his name like it’s made of gold, and Eftirvit startles lightly under his touch, against the cool of his palm that comes to rest against his cheek. He can’t feel Hroptatyr’s pulse like this but he can feel his own, spiking in his chest like a sun bursting into summer. “Can I kiss you?”
Briefly, Eftirvit wonders if he is dreaming. He finds himself nodding before he is able to formulate the right words to say aloud, and the smile that Hroptatyr sends up at him is so fond, so raw, so him that Eftirvit thinks that his heart might bleed out between his teeth and into Hroptatyr’s mouth.
(Eftirvit commits this moment to memory as best as he can, because for this singular moment suspended in time Hroptatyr is his and everything feels right again. And he can pretend, he thinks, that his life will always look like this.)
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Hroptatyr actually felt that Eftirvit didn’t quite fit the image of an human or angel, because the man’s every thought could make Hroptatyr’s head spin, forcing him to work hard to find reasons and answers. To him, Eftirvit was better described as God—yes. A God who existed solely for Hroptatyr to worship, a God who was present to give Hroptatyr reasons. The only God Hroptatyr acknowledged. Because Eftirvit was the vit of Hroptatyr’s life.
Bookmarked by Ishipgays
28 Sep 2026