#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

#unreality #goncharov #gaslight gatekeep goncharov #the only unreality of this post is the idea that goncharov is an actual film #y’all are amazing #i can’t stop laughing #tumblr collectively went- you know what would be funny? #what if we gaslit the Internet about goncharov #and then you COMMITTED #TO AN EXTENT SO LARGE #I CANT EVEN #the saddest part of all this is that goncharov isn’t real #because some of the stuff that people are creating of this is just so so so good #the fanart?? #the introspections?? #the literary dissections?? #this is absolutely the fanfic experience oh my gods #peak tumblr #tumblr culture

[brionnne]

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.

#really proud of this actually #sdv fanfic #wip #can you tell i hate work? #honestly fucking felt like this at my first job #absolutely horrendous experiences #really channeling that #really honing in #the negativity that some workplaces bring #especially if you're already depressed #like the fact i have mental health issues made it worse #it was already garbage but oh my god #it's really like an abusive relationship

[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.)

#long #rambling #writing

[eilidh-eternal]

🥤 ⇢ recommend an author or fanfic you love

Ohhhhhh I have SO MANY recommendations!

@yeyinde their entire masterlist. Absolutely transformative experience reading anything and everything Lev writes. I want to be her when I grow up

@groguspicklejar Chink In the Armor! Best medieval Ghoap AU I’ve ever read!!!! Mafia!141 is so deliciously angsty and she captures it soooo perfectly! Kelsi is absolutely my go to for any and all Kyle pretty boy Garrick reads!!!

@gemmahale Gemma my beloved🖤 everything she writes is literal treasure. Priceless. Deserving of a pretty glass case and soft leather bindings. There are worlds in her head I could not dream up in 100 lifetimes, and her OC’s are sooo complex and well rounded!

@peachesofteal once again, her entire masterlist. Everything she writes is guaranteed to leave me staring at the damn wall with the loading circle spinning on my forehead, wishing I could jump through my screen and live in the worlds she writes

@luminousbeings-crudematter Folie á Deux, Donner Party, and Land Softly are some of my favorites! I still need to work my way through the rest of Lumi’s masterlist😅 but the way she writes Simon 😳 my enclosure only has so many bars, I’m going to have to replace it soon

@391780 oh god too many to count! I looooove the way Early writes dark!141 and ALL of her stories highlight and praise big soft bodies🥰 she also does comic relief INSANELY well, and I just know anytime I sit down to read her fics I’m gonna have a good laugh (get wrecked König)

@moondirti I have just read the first part of Cabin fever and I am already IN LOVE with Dee and their writing style! Cannot wait to read more when I have the chance!

@ceilidho I was not a Price girly when I started getting into CoD, but Ceil’s take on him has irreversibly altered my brain chemistry🫠 and her characterization of a darker Simon?! Canon. She’s in charge now.

@auspicioustidings OH MY GOD!!!! Mhairi just started Ae Fond Kiss and I am so, so, sooooo in love with the concept for this fic! It’s already incredibly gut wrenching and I know I’m gonna be a sobbing mess throughout this series! Truly on the edge of my seat!!!

@pfhwrittes P has such a wrinkly brain! I’m absolutely in love with their Here Be Kink and Dealing Drugs and Feelings collections! Absolutely phenomenal writing! Everything they write is so dark, decadent and rich🤤

@kaadaaan Offer Me His Hunger is such a beautifully written descent into madness and obsession, and Vi does a truly immaculate job of portraying it! I chew on drywall thinking about this DAILY!!!!

@ohbo-ohno PUPPY! SOAP! Don’t Leave Me Locked In Your Heart was the beginning of a very transformative experience for me and with every new fic Bo writes I descend further into madness😵‍💫 I cannot unsee Soap with big puppy eyes and a pouty face and I think Bo should be on the writers team for his “surprise I’m not dead but guess what? I’m Very Fucked Up™️ now” story arc in MWIV bc that was not him in that tunnel

@glossysoap The go-to for any and all Captain related thoughts! Price and 09’ Soap can captain my ship anytime as long as it’s Glossy’s version🫡 Peppers is absolutely deserving of it’s namesake🥵

@charliemwrites never misses! All of her characterizations are spot-fucking-on and she has a wonderful selection of CoD characters that span multiple genres! I’m particularly in love with Woof Woof Johnny🥴 (nasty little freak🖤) and Fields of Elation

@vanderilnde RUGBY! PLAYER! SOAP! He’s dirty and nasty and pervy and pathetic!!!! What more could you want from a man like him? And the way Orion writes him…… CHEWING ON GLASS! I love when soap is a pathetic little whore and Orion NAILED IT!!!

@the-californicationist Oooohhhhh Guile and Guilt was one of the first CoD fics I ever read and it lives in my head 24/7, even when Johnny is whispering Nasty™️ ideas in my ear. The story, the poetry, the characterizations…. IT’S LITERAL PERFECTION!!!!

#eilidh’s asks #author recs #fic recs

[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.

#the ballad of songbirds and snakes #tbosas #tbosas fic #thg series #thg fic #coriolanus snow #coriolanus x reader #coriolanus snow x reader #volumnia gaul #tw medical #medical horror #fanfic #.// ♡ basil's archive #. // ♡ rubatosis series #its insane how much i wrote for this first chapter lmao #its like 30 pages on google docs #i am obsessed with this man #i really wanted this chapter to be a focus of snow & reader building their dynamic and bond before we jump off the deep end #i am really excited to write the coming chapters

[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)

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.

#aether x reader sagau #genshin impact #imposter sagau #genshin sagau #sagau x reader #genshit midpact #genshitpost #aether #genshit impact #sagau imposter #genshin x reader #x reader #yandere genshin x reader #genshin imagines #genshin fanfic #genshin aether #gensin impact #genshin archon #genshin au #aether x y/n #aether x reader #aether x you #traveler x reader #genshin impact traveler #creator!reader #paimon #shit writing #yandere #yandere genshin imagines #genshin impact sagau

[astravv]

【✰】 ➤ ꜱᴍᴏᴋɪɴɢ ᴡᴇᴇᴅ ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴅᴏᴛᴛᴏʀᴇ — ʜᴇᴀᴅᴄᴀɴᴏɴꜱ

✰ — 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞 ▸ i’m a stoner so and i want to make a fanfic for all my genshin stoners out there so if want more characters with this headcanon just request me cuz id be happy to do it :))

✰ — 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭 ▸ smoking weed, some cursing, overall some silliness, dottore has never smoked weed before

✰ — 𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠(𝐬) ▸ dottore x fem! reader

✰ — 𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 ▸ dottore knows you like your weed, but he’s never been bothered to try it with you. until one day, you ask if he’d want to, since he’s been so stressed lately.

♡ ♡ ♡ ♡

♡ 〙dottore has never smoked before, but he knows you do, but he doesn’t really care. he watches you while you smoke a joint or hit a bong, but he doesn’t participate. he thinks it’s a waste of time.

♡ 〙dottore had been super stressed out recently since all of the experiments he was working on kept failing. he would come to his room and constantly moan and groan about how he feels like he can’t do nothing right with it. which is extremely weird for him, since he’s usually not venting to you about all his troubles.

♡ 〙you pull out your bong from your shared closet and a bag of weed. you fill it up with some of it, giving dottore a small glance.

♡ 〙”smoke with me, maybe it’ll make you feel better.” you tell him. he’s hesitant, but he honestly doesn’t want to be up all night thinking about how he failed all the experiments he was working on, and he will have to start from square one.

♡ 〙”fine.” he groans, pushing himself to sit beside you on your guys shared bed and watching your every move. “is this even safe?”

♡ 〙”what do you care about safety?” you laugh. he gives you an eye roll in response.

♡ 〙”i have to show you how to do it,” you say, turning over so you’re facing the harbinger. he nods and looks you in the eye.

♡ 〙”i’m going to light it, then suck on it so i can pull the smoke up. after that, pull this dish out and suck all of the smoke you just pulled up out.” you explain. he looks a little lost, so you just laugh and shake your head, then proceed to show him a visual example.

♡ 〙once you show him the visual example, you hand it over to him. his breath hitches and gives you a glance then lights the weed and takes a big hit.

♡ 〙”dottore!” you yell out. he proceeds to throw his head to the side and start coughing his brains out. “not that much..”

♡ 〙”oh my god,” tears well up in his eyes from coughing it up so much.

♡ 〙”suck the rest of the smoke in.” you tell him, pointing at the smoke slowly rising out of the bong. he presses his lips back to it and sucks the rest of it out, handing the glassware back to you.

♡ 〙”you okay?” you laugh, giving him some hard pats on his back as he coughs loudly. he nods and gives you a thumbs up, still coughing harshly.

♡ 〙you both take turns taking more hits of it, until you look at dottore and he’s staring at the wall, like he’s in a trance.

♡ 〙you throw the rest of the burnt weed away, putting your bong up on the side table and sit in front of your boyfriend, who’s still completely messed up.

♡ 〙”are you okay?” you ask, staring at dottore who’s currently in another world right now. he gives you a nod that seems like he didn’t even hear what you just said.

♡ 〙you guys talk about random things, then he starts to get the giggles, really, really bad. he says his face is stuck in a permanent grin, and honestly it was hilarious to see.

♡ 〙then later, he tells you that he’s really hungry. so you and him walk out of your room and go downstairs to the harbingers shared kitchen and dig through the cabinets for anything you two can stuff your faces with.

♡ 〙pantalone walks in the kitchen, seeing you both absolutely shredding into a bag of chips, laughing and carrying on about some random shit that pantalone does not want to be apart of.

♡ 〙he shakes his head at you both and grabs a small snack out of the pantry and walks by you guys giving you both a judgy look. you look up and realize that he was looking at you both and you clear your throat.

♡ 〙pantalone mouths the words “is he high?” and points towards dottore who’s staring deeply into the bag of chips. you nod and laugh, which pantalone shakes his head and gives you a wave goodbye.

♡ 〙you’re hoping pantalone doesn’t go around and tell everyone that you got your mad scientist boyfriend high as fuck.

♡ 〙you pull dottore back into his room, and he flops onto his bed. you pull him up into bed and under the covers so he can go to bed, since he looked like he was gonna pass out any second. he looks at you and says something completely inaudible and falls asleep.

♡ 〙let’s just say this whole night was filled with lots of munching, the giggles, and some shushing from dottore as falls into your arms every five seconds. in the morning he tells you that he wants to do it again sometime. you nod and kiss his forehead. probably one of your favorite moments with him.

#dottore fluff #dottore headcanons #dottore x reader #il dottore #genshin impact #genshin #genshin x reader #x reader #dottore

[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

#todd ingram #todd ingram x reader #spto #scott pilgrim takes off #he's such a goof #i fucking love him

[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. 

#miss gavi writes #pablo gavi #pablo gavi smut #pablo gavi x reader #pablo gavi imagine #pablo gavi x y/n #pg6 #pg30 #fc barcelona #fcb #fc barca #football #pablo gavira

[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.

#this went from zoros pov to sanjis instinctively ngl #also nami being the best wingman PERIODDD #btw nami in this is dating vivi #bc theyre cute together <3 #uhhhh yeah i need a title for this... #one piece #zosan #roronoa zoro #vinsmoke sanji #black leg sanji #sanji with heterochromia

[kaelidascope]

Dude, I love this fanfic so much! I just wanted to ask where you got the idea from. Did you have any inspiration from anyone? Also, what's your favorite fanfic? And want do you recommend ?

AWE bless!! Thank you so much I'm glad you're enjoying it <33

So actually a good 80% of this is written from personal experience LOL I used to dance and was into drift building/racing in my late teens/early twenties! Most of the references or scenes in Midnight Menagerie are references to things I've seen or done in real life, OR stories friends have told me within the same field. (Nora is literally just a rebranding of this one mutual friend we had who just. Absolutely fucking unhinged) Like for example, the anticipated Hangover Chapter is just a retelling of an insane Summer weekend I had in 2017 ☠️ it's a personal delight being able to translate things into the narrative, even more so knowing people find my stupid, terrible decisions as amusing as I do in current times lol

My general rule of thumb is to write from experience. Things I understand either on a technical point or emotional connection. So, if you've read it in my work, it's probably something I've done LOL

Another reason I find drive in writing this type of narrative is that MM!Blake's type of dissociative PTSD is something I haven't seen much in media in general. I've seen people depict her in various ways (some of them good!), but none of them ever really apply directly to me, so I wanted to make something that I could relate to and how to properly navigate life, given the environmental circumstances. Plus some us need better examples on how to juggle mental illness as adults and also be in healthy long term relationships because damn I have zero reference LOL

For the fic recs, oh boy I have so many LOL time to be a pathetic fangirl on main but okay here's the ones that immediately jump to mind (also heads up most of these are mature or explicit rating);

Certified Kaeli Fresh Fics

Let You See My Wilder Side (If I Can See Your Bones)

We all know this one but it is, hands down, my favorite piece of literature of all time. Masterfully crafted and a timeless classic worth several rereads (and I have. Embarrassingly so)

Written by @/lucytara on tumblr || @/explosive_sky on twitter

honestly all her works are immaculate and beyond compare. Also a major fan of I Have A Bullet With Your Mouth On It (That was first RWBY fanfic I ever read LMAO a friend recommended it to me before I even watched the show) I aspire to write like her some day. It's what got me writing fanfiction in the first place. So, credit goes to Erin for inspiring me to post my manuscripts at all. Words cannot express my gratitude and appreciation. I have two book series in the process of being published now and I wouldn't have had the nerve to do it had it not been for this specific fic.

2. One Day At A Time

Also one of the earlier fics I read before getting into the show LOL I love all of @/Frenchsoda 's work, the full list is also worth checking out. I'm a fan of disgruntled Blake who doesn't understand her attraction to Yang but it's so god damn sweet ugh

3. Fucking In Love

Written by @/Set_WingedWarrior and @/Softlight

This one circulates a lot in my social circles. Everyone I know LOVES this one and after reading it earlier this year, now I see why. As someone who worked in the sex industry for a brief period of time, this one's not only accurate but also A DELIGHT to read. The premise is fun, captivating, and worth the wait. I actually discovered a chapter update earlier this year and sent the gc into hysterics because we thought the fic was dead LMAO props to these authors!! They're doing an amazing job and deserve praise

4. You're A Mountain, Full Of Glory

written by champion author @/lescousinsdangereux

I should just preface already that every book Blake reads in MM is a fanfiction that exists because I love Easter eggs. Everyone knows I had Blake reference this in chapter 3 LOL but it's equally as immaculate as Erin's work. I LOVED especially the dynamic between Weiss, Yang, and Ruby in this one. Baby, we're complicated fucking murdered me 😭 also that fuckass Christmas scene, that's my favorite Christmas song LMAO

5. The Home Inside Your Head

Written by the ever skilled @/writeriguess . I found this fic by accident by seeing fanart for it floating around on this site. Got curious, picked at it, and. Oh, my god. It's not very often my brain gets scratched in the right way, but boy this one does it. This author does something specifically unique I haven't seen many do before, and I applaud them for it. There's great detail on the scenes that matter, and the fucking organic build up between Blake and Yang is just. God. Chef's kiss. Truly. It feels so god damn natural and healthy and it's already crossing off several of my agendas already. Give this one a read and give the author some love. SENSUAL FACE TOUCHING? CHAPTER 13????? BOOOOOOOYYYYYYY I'm normal about it

6. You'd Be Paranoid Too (If Everyone Was Out To Get You)

Written by @/WabaJaba_ on twitter

Okay so this one's completely different than what I've previously listed but HOLY FUCKING SHIT IS IT A THRILLER. It doesn't nearly have the amount of love and attention it truly deserves. A friend of mine recommended it to me because it shook them so fucking hard they were in total brainrot hell for a MONTH. NOW I UNDERSTAND WHY LMAO God I was obsessed with this for weeks myself. It obviously lives up to it's rating, horror fics aren't for everyone. But if you're able to read it, good lord you should. It's chilling, captivating, and had me on the edge of my fucking seat the entire time. Both endings are good, I still can't decide which one I prefer but RAH I will make sure this is seen god dammit

and last but certainly not least

7. You And Me and This Temptation

written by talented author @/ProfessorSpork

Okay this one was an accidental find as well. A friend sent it to me because THEY found it by accident, I clicked on it for later, went looking for a completely different fic that I mistook for this one, started skimming and realized 'wait a minute LMAO I don't recognize this'. But the thing you have to understand is I hate reading. I'm not a reader, I'm picky and it needs to be worth sitting down for long periods of time. This is one of the rare instances where I was so captivated by it I kept reading more and more from the middle where I landed, and eventually just said ykw let me just start from the beginning cus LMAO context.

This one is, by far, one the healthiest and loveliest depictions of first times I have ever seen. This shit was so inspiring to me that it literally kickstarted an essay in someone's DMs why depictions like this are so important. I didn't have this experience irl, and why MM is written the way it is is because its meant to serve as a lighthouse for those who, like me, haven't. This fic however I feel like should be a required read for anyone getting into relationships for the first time because if it's not like how these two interact, LEAVE IT. This is the standard. This is amazingly written, it's the closest I've ever seen canon Yang and Blake be written to date. The fucking souvenir bit 😭 NJKFGNFJKGNGJ killed me, I was kicking my feet laughing for a good minute. This is the kind of standard everyone should look at and go 'yeah, I want what they have' BECAUSE IT'S CORRECT. LOUD CORRECT BUZZER NOISES

Honestly everything in my bookmarks is certified Kaeli Fresh but these 7 are my top faves. They're probably also really commonly known I'm sure but LMAO like I said I don't read much 😭 which is heavily ironic considering I write myself. Anyway this ended up way longer than I intended but LOL <3 <3 go give these incredible authors love!!

#midnightbeesfic #rwby #bumbleby #blake belladonna #yang xiao long #Boy this turned into a massive ramble #I'd directly tag the authors but I'm shy as fuck sorry LMAO #I hope Midnight Menagerie and my other works offer a fraction of respect to the works these authors have produced #Certified Kaeli Fresh works

[lovingempress]

This author’s note is amazing and I am at a loss of words LMAOOOO

#fanfic #just look at that prose #I’m dying with laughter #it’s funny because it’s true #the ENERGY of this author!! #I am DYING. I AM SLAIN. #this is absolutely the fanfic experience oh my gods #don’t mind me just #*screaming into my hands* #fandom #fandom stuff #AO3

[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.

#ace attorney #spoilers #spirit of justice #uendo toneido #thoughts of a person with DID #idk I ain't mad at the representation even if I was gonna be pissed #if Uendo had ended up being the culprit #thank God they did not do that

[chaifootsteps]

Oh my god, finally! I've been wanting to post here for a few days.

I'm the author of that infamous fanfic. And I wanted to say, unrelated to Hazbin, that the documentary and Drake's story, coupled with his new music video "I Kinda Relate" is the most heartbreaking and empowering thing I've ever seen. I bawled my eyes out the entire day that I found it.

In the first 28 seconds, Drake heavily implies, but doesn't show, his abuse that he suffered at the hands of his rapist, Brian Peck (who also was penpals with none other than John Wayne Gacy.)

I wanted to do nothing but hug that poor little boy, and to hug the man he is now. I want to tell him that he's beautiful and strong and brave for coming out. Male CSA victims rarely ever do. Could you imagine telling Drake then or now, that he's a *loser*? Could you imagine going about his abuse the way Viv did with Husk and Angel? He literally made his own music video that was much more tactful and empowering than Loser Baby ever will be.

I also have dirt on Dan S and that whole fucking pedo ring (I know a LOT of people in this industry. I also helped take down an ACTUAL ZOO AND PEDOPHILE with a decent amount of power a few years back.) And for anyone still confused about Drake, the girl he messaged lied about her age and he never did anything physical with her. He still acknowledges he's fucked up (please watch his hour long interview and music video) but he's "bound to make it right".

I also just want to say, to a CERTAIN PERSON, that comparing the objectively fetishisized abuse (I'm a CSA victim and into noncon), to fucking SEX ED FOR CHILDREN, is the absolute most fucking garbage and vile take I've ever seen. Poison is NOT educational. It is fetish content for Viv and Raph and others like them. If survivors and fans can turn something objectively negative into something subjectively positive, all the power to them.

Again, into noncon and a CSA victim. I also don't want to see stans taking this and telling me I'm invalid for critiquing Viv and Raph (already dealt with that in my damn fic.) I have been raped/sexually assaulted/groomed/groped/strangled/pinned down/dragged around as a child and NO ONE is ever going to tell me I'm a hypocrite or that I'm wrong for my feelings on this issue. Especially when I also have friends and my own mother as SA and CSA victims as well.

Someone like myself, or like Drake Bell, do NOT need to see how explicitly horrid our abuse was/is to understand how bad it is. I personally had panic attacks watching the episode, and having the knowledge of Raph being an unapologetic rape fetishist, was all I needed to know that that entire episode was fetish content. It's basically an adaptation of Raph's Red Smoke comic. Nearly word for word too. I've written and consumed so many stories over the years to know exactly what's going in their heads.

You know how you actually help a victim? You have friends and family and a therapist help you get out of that situation. Husk "helping" Angel was not the way to go about it.

And I've seen fans argue whether or not Viv is a rape fetishist (she is), but if she wasn't, why is she so adamant on keeping an unapologetic rape fetishist on her staff? He's confirmed to be working on season 2 (God I'm gagging thinking about it) and why does she like so much art (no hate to the artists) of sexy, fetishisized, hot, and sad art of Valentino? If he's supposedly based off HER abusive experience, why does she coddle, woobify, and downplay and sexualize him so much??? I wouldn't base a rapist character or write a rapist character as a fucking "high school Mean girl".

I'm sorry this got so long, but fuck man... it's so fucking disgusting.

Anyways, please watch this. It's got more tact and heart than fucking Poison will ever have. Drake Bell, my heart goes out to you. CSA victim to CSA victim. I hope you get better and can heal. And that goes for all victims as well. 💜🫂 (You too, Chai.)

And Brian Peck, and any and all other rapists, can burn alive in a grease fire. Val included.

https://youtu.be/I5gh8rAVLkI?si=B2eny2U4GZRgDZ7t

https://youtu.be/nSzk-MsVKqA?si=6D4rEihu89Yom7YG

Well said as always, Anon, and thank you for this.

Also, definitely seconding Brian Peck burning up in a grease fire.

#Anonymous #viv stuff #actual blog post #vivziepop critical

[theo-grayson]

Anyone who's taken a look at my notes knows I Fucking Ramble, so don't look here unless you wanna see me share way too many thoughts about Our Life: Now and Forever (including way too much about my personal life)

Guys. Oh my god. Where do I even start. Maybe with just:

Little things I love about the demo

I am a sucker for character customization, and this game delivers that in spades. You can choose so many different things, from your appearance with a doll maker/picrew type thing, your gender and pronouns (with a BUNCH of customization), to what your bedroom looks like, to little stuff like what kind of drink you get at a restaurant. This was present in the first game too, Our Life: Beginnings and Always (OL:BA), but it's more in-depth here, and I love it. And I love that you can see your little avatar when your character speaks. I feel like it just flows so nicely, and it makes me wanna replay it with different characters. Of course, you also get many different dialogue choices, and there are so many choices to pick from. I LOVE it.

So, I absolutely adore OL:BA, and I love Cove with my whole entire heart. But man, inside of me there are two wolves: one of them is a Summer Disliker, and one of them is a rabid Autumn Pinterest Girlie. I ADORE fall, colourful leaves, mushrooms, rain, etc etc etc.

So seeing that Our Life: Now and Forever (OL:NF) takes place in a sleepy town in the AUTUMN?? With scenery like THIS???

I want to live here in real life.

The art style in general is just so beautiful. The colours, the softness of it all, the spritework, the cg art: everything is so stunning. The soundtrack is absolutely amazing too.

On a different note, the extent to which you can customize your relationships with Qui and Tamarack is so cool. You can go through a slow-burn romance, as neighbours to childhood friends to crushes to partners. You can have a cute love-at-first-sight childhood crushes story. You can avoid romance altogether and have a chosen-family dynamic. You can have a poly relationship and date both of them. Not ONLY that, but even the way that they interact with you can be customized;

That's so cool!! You can choose whether a character looks up to you or takes care of you, or whether they prefer to compliment you or tease you. And you can choose the same kind of thing when you interact with them in turn! A visual novel having this level of depth in a relationship is so awesome. The game will even remember things: like, if you react negatively to certain types of interactions, the characters can remember and act accordingly in the future. That's so cool!

I like that this story seems to be a little bit more serious than the last game. OL:BA has basically zero stakes, and very little serious conflict. That's not a bad thing at all, it's very much supposed to be a comfy, indulgent game. But OL:NF begins Step 2 by showing that the main characters have drifted apart as they've grown older. Not only is that nice realism, but it also adds both possible comfort potential (bringing your old friends back together and having good times) AND possible whump/angst potential (watching who used to be your best friends drift apart completely). The (optional) jealousy mechanic could also add to this. Obviously the game isn't finished yet and I could totally be off the mark, but even if this kind of thing doesn't end up happening, the fanfic potential is also there!

I really like how complex the characters are. Even as kids, they have wants and motivations and flaws, and they're so likeable. They change throughout the story, because not only are they growing up and older, but they have their own experiences and personal struggles. And speaking of characters:

Quick thoughts about Main Characters

> Tamarack Baumann

Oh my goodness. Ohg. Tammy. She is so so important to me. She is so sweet and supportive, and she's so pretty. Look at her. Oh my god I love her.

I absolutely adore Tamarack, and part of it is that I relate to her in a couple ways. I grew up as the insecure fat girl. I love frogs and toads. The cello is my favourite instrument, and I would love to learn to play one day. When she first said that she lived with her Omi and Opa, I literally gasped in real life, because I lived with my Omi and Opi for about a year, when I was her age.

> Qui "Autumn" Lin

QUI!!!!!! I love them so dearly, their mannerisms and the way they speak are so so endearing. They change a lot throughout the story, which is going to be so interesting to see. And they are ALSO so so pretty. Oh my god.

As a trans person myself who is definitely playing as a trans MC, I'm so curious to see the interactions with Qui, since they struggle with their own gender identity as well. Also, when they do figure out their identity in Step 3:

What??? That's so cool!!!

In which I get a little bit too personal:

This is probably tmi but I don't care. To make a very long story short, I had a really shitty traumatic childhood. Especially around ages 10-15. Even disregarding that, I was always a 'mature for my age' child, who followed all the rules and was terrified of ever stepping out of line. I never got the chance to be a normal kid.

So, getting the chance to go through this game, being able to experience growing up in such a beautiful area, with a supportive family and no trauma and friends that care about you. It's just. So nice.

-

Anyways. I'm gonna go now and make a bunch of OCs to play through the demo with and make different choices, because the hyperfixation is truly all-consuming

#our life now & forever #our life #olnf #ol:nf #olnf mc #olnf tamarack #qiu lin #tamarack baumann #gb patch games #theo rambles #long post #Youtube

[handledwithgloves]

two very popular drarry fics that i did not care for and why

in the past however long of my becoming a drarry stan ive read many fanfics and i can say only two had really gotten me so pissed i had to log off

and thats not to say that i never dnf a drarry fic before because i have done that to so many for various different reasons. ive also read plenty dead doves do not eat so… this is saying something i suppose.

and this is no hate at all to the writers of these fics they clearly love what they do and are super talented and no hate to the enjoyers of these fics, like what you like. this is just my person experiences.

first is, harry potter and the welcome to the world of grey. i just gotta say i did not get the hype at all. i hated voldemort so much everything he says to harry is meant to be philosophical and insightful and whatnot and that makes harry question whether or not voldemort is truly evil but mans just talked way too much for my liking. he needed to be shut up and every time harry was tryin to beat on his ass he stopped for whatever reason - i was so pissed. like atp just kill each other istg. and then harry is supposed to be conflicted and all alone and he cant trust dumbledore and he doesn't want to face the consequences of his actions and go to jail for killing someone, well too bad pookie! get tf over yourself you're a bad guy now. not only did you kill twice but both times you killed it was not in self defense but your own willingness to do so. like the drarry was good, in fact so good that i got about 3/4ths way through before i had to quit. the drarry was carrying this story and i understand if drarry stans love it solely for the drarry but if there's going to be other parts of the story i need it to make sense to me. harry and voldemort's characters were just not doing it for me.

second, is the mirror of ecidyrue series. It started off soo well, so well. i loved how all the characters were so in character and everything was cool and draco was powerful and his power was mysterious and bella was scary. i loved how harry met draco and how hermione started trying to befriend him i loved the friendship bracelent draco made her and that snape helped. i even loved jealous harry when draco and charlie were flirting and harry was like 'how old are you again, charlie? 25!? well draco's 14' and charlie started freaking out 'um, 21'. so anyway, strong start! but theeennn... we get later on in the series and for some reason draco starts changing? like yes he gets influenced by the people around him but all of a sudden he's like hyper fem which is not a bad thing in general but definite ooc - i like draco's character so i would prefer him to be in character but whatever i was able to ignore it until they started giving each other nicknames. oh god the nicknames were the worst part. like i get they're cringey kids they do dumb things draco is no exception apparently even though mentally he's like 21 hanging out with 14 yos. so yeah i had to absolutely stop when draco was having sex with 16 yo harry and harry starts calling him dragon in a sexual way... yeah i just had to stop there. i was getting way too much second hand embarrassment that it was pissing me off. i did not like draco lmfao. also i hate that they made lucius abusive lmao.

once again just disclaiming this is no hate to the writers or enjoyers of these fics i just couldnt stomach the stories and thats my own personal fault. i just wanted to share what i thought lol. they definitely made an impression!

#god like to this day! to this day! i still think lunaluna and start dying inside like fy draco! #its just her name said twice but god i wanted to vomit #drarry #drarry fics #idk what else to tag this lol pls dont attack me or tell me i'm being a hater i really did enjoy these stories to an extent but no other fi #made me quit reading them so hard and fast lmfaooo #all other fics i dnf happened slowly like i was reading and then put it away for later then read a bit then put away for later and eventual #just started reading other fics instead