#its like 30 pages on google docs

[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.

[louissunshine]

.

[physalian]

You don’t have to pay for that fancy worldbuilding program

As mentioned in this post about writing with executive dysfunction, if one of your reasons to keep procrastinating on starting your book is not being able to afford something like World Anvil or Campfire, I’m here to tell you those programs are a luxury, not a necessity: Enter Google Suite (not sponsored but gosh I wish).

MS Office offers more processing power and more fine-tuning, but Office is expensive and only autosaves to OneDrive, and I have a perfectly healthy grudge against OneDrive for failing to sync and losing 19k words of a WIP that I never got back.

Google’s sync has never failed me, and the Google apps (at least for iPhone) aren’t nearly as buggy and clunky as Microsoft’s. So today I’m outlining the system I used for my upcoming fantasy novel with all the helpful pictures and diagrams. Maybe this won’t work for you, maybe you have something else, and that’s okay! I refuse to pay for what I can get legally for free and sometimes Google’s simplicity is to its benefit.

The biggest downside is that you have to manually input and update your data, but as someone who loves organizing and made all these willingly and for fun, I don’t mind.

So. Let’s start with Google Sheets.

The Character Cheat Sheet:

I organized it this way for several reasons:

I can easily see which characters belong to which factions and how many I have named and have to keep up with for each faction

All names are in alphabetical order so when I have to come up with a new name, I can look at my list and pick a letter or a string of sounds I haven’t used as often (and then ignore it and start 8 names with A).

The strikethrough feature lets me keep track of which characters I kill off (yes, I changed it, so this remains spoiler-free)

It’s an easy place to go instead of scrolling up and down an entire manuscript for names I’ve forgotten, with every named character, however minor their role, all in one spot

Also on this page are spare names I’ll see randomly in other media (commercials, movie end credits, etc) and can add easily from my phone before I forget

Also on this page are my summary, my elevator pitch, and important character beats I could otherwise easily mess up, it helps stay consistent

*I also have on here not pictured an age timeline for all my vampires so I keep track of who’s older than who and how well I’ve staggered their ages relative to important events, but it’s made in Photoshop and too much of a pain to censor and add here

On other tabs, I keep track of location names, deities, made-up vocabulary and definitions, and my chapter word count.

The Word Count Guide:

*3/30 Edit to update this chart to its full glory. Column 3 is a cumulative count. Most of what I write breaks 100k and it's fun watching the word count rise until it boils over.

This is the most frustrating to update manually, especially if you don’t have separate docs for each chapter, but it really helps me stay consistent with chapter lengths and the formula for calculating the average and rising totals is super basic.

Not that all your chapters have to be uniform, but if you care about that, this little chart is a fantastic visualizer.

If you have multiple narrators, and this book does, you can also keep track of how many POVs each narrator has, and how spread out they are. I didn’t do that for this book since it’s not an ensemble team and matters less, but I did for my sci-fi WIP, pictured below.

As I was writing that one, I had “scripted” the chapters before going back and writing out all the glorious narrative, and updated the symbols from “scripted” to “finished” accordingly.

I also have a pie chart that I had to make manually on a convoluted iPhone app to color coordinate specifically the way I wanted to easily tell who narrates the most out of the cast, and who needs more representation.

—

Google Docs

Can’t show you much here unfortunately but I’d like to take an aside to talk about my “scene bits” docs.

It’s what it says on the tin, an entire doc all labeled with different heading styles with blurbs for each scene I want to include at some point in the book so I can hop around easily. Whether they make it into the manuscript or not, all practice is good practice and I like to keep old ideas because they might be useful in unsuspecting ways later.

Separate from that, I keep most of my deleted scenes and scene chunks for, again, possible use later in a “deleted scenes” doc, all labeled accordingly.

When I designed my alien language for the sci-fi series, I created a Word doc dictionary and my own "translation" matrix, for easy look-up or word generation whenever I needed it (do y'all want a breakdown for creating foreign languages? It's so fun).

Normally, as with my sci-fi series, I have an entire doc filled with character sheets and important details, I just… didn’t do that for this book. But the point is—you can still make those for free on any word processing software, you don’t need fancy gadgets.

—

I hope this helps anyone struggling! It doesn’t have to be fancy. It doesn’t have to be expensive. Everything I made here, minus the aforementioned timeline and pie chart, was done with basic excel skills and the paint bucket tool. I imagine this can be applicable to games, comics, what have you, it knows no bounds!

Now you have one less excuse to sit down and start writing.

[ginminowas]

i try to ignore numbers as much as possible because as far as im concerned i just cant read them after it gets to the 10,000 digits especially when they dont even use the , thing. but i still go “hehe i wonder how many wrote i words :3″

[nerves-nebula]

start | Prev | The End! you're here!!

page 50

AND SO HERE WE REACH THE END. THE EPILOGUE. THE 50TH PAGE OF MY 20 PAGE COMIC. BRILLIANT. I hope i never do this again. good lord. I can’t say it isn’t satisfying to end something like this but MAN did this balloon. This was because I got an ASK, do you guys remember that?? Do you remember that i started this comic on a whim?? Because I got an ask?? And then i held a poll about what comic I should make??? THAT WAS MONTHS AGO.

I considered adding one more page that's just a wide shot of Raph watching Splinter looking at Leo but I figured you get the point well enough already.

here's some round up fun facts under the cut!

this script is 3596 words long

it spans 8 pages of my 90 page tmnt google doc

it was originally supposed to be around 20-30 pages AT MOST

the reason behind its specific style choices is that I was IN THE MIDDLE OF COLLEGE when i started it and i wanted to be able to make pages as fast as possible. so i created a limited color palette so that i wouldn't over do things. i still kind of over did things tho.

because the point was to draw pages as fast as possible I frequently make little mistakes like forgetting to draw bandages, knee/arm pads, masks, and donnie's entire glasses.

one of the most frequently forgotten things i think is Raphs hand bandages. i think i draw him without them more than i draw him WITH them ;_;

when I started this i wasn't going to include anything to do with CSA, because I was unsure that people wouldn't be weird about it

halfway through the comic, I started to write Donnie with a stutter. this is because I was still developing the characters when I started this comic and it was supposed to help me figure out their emotions more, so quite a few decisions were made about them in the middle of script writing & the days/weeks between drawing pages. that's how you end up with shit like Donnie suddenly developing a stutter.

because of the placement of when i decided to write him with a stutter, it kind of looks like he develops it after a particularly traumatic memory, and i think thats kind of funny.

THIS IS OFFICIALLY THE LONGEST FINISHED COMIC I’VE EVER MADE.

anyway, thanks for reading :)  

[subwaytostardew]

▽ Subway to Stardew - Emmet 8-Heart Event ▽

This plays after getting at least 8 hearts with Emmet and entering the Railroad between 9AM - 4PM on a Thursday after viewing his 7 heart event.

You recieve this letter when you reach 8 hearts with Emmet!

Commentary and progress under the readmore.

▷ Station Steward Thylak

I DID NOT REALIZE THAT THIS EVENT WOULD BE THAT LONG... I could have sworn it was around 14 minutes max! I was worried that the battle stuff went by too quickly! It's almost 30 minutes long! And that's with me clicking away faster! Emmet really meant it when he said he wanted to spend all the livelong day together...

I thought it was going to be roughly 18 minutes. NOPE. WOOPS. This what happens when you write possibly too much.

We are bad at making short events. Vanilla events are around 1-3 minutes long. A day in Stardew lasts 14 minutes and 10 seconds. I would not recommend trying to play this mod spoiler free on multiplayer because time does not freeze and you will die if you don't skip the events. I wouldn't want to shorten the events either... Cutting down their infodumps would just be wrong.

We had a few requests to have a battle event which made me 😅 because I personally couldn't imagine that going well (truth over ideals...). This event was partially made to shut that idea down. The whole tunnel scene is mostly me trying to write an in-story reason as to why there won't be a battle with the farmer against Ingo... Emmet is competitive! This is not just limited to battles but extends to being your best friend! Behind the scenes... I'm just too tired to write out more battles. I actually really dislike single battle format. I'm not making an Ingo battle event. You already have three games to battle him in. I refuse to make more battle events for the time being.

I say that but there's another half-finished double battle event between submas that I switched tracks from to work on Emmet's 8 heart event... I'll finish that eventually.

Anyways... the creation process did not go by quickly at all either. I sure do have a lot to say on that matter. I do all my coding in google docs (terrible, I know) and so far we have had to make 3 seperate documents becuase things start to break at around 40 pages. The document before Emmet's 8 heart event made it to 64 pages before I abandoned it for a new document.

The longest document we have is around 80 pages along. Which usually contain the draft scripts of multiple events. code documents however take up a lot more since it's basically a giant wall of text. So when Emmet's 8 heart event started to slow down the current code document (the third iteration). We had to give the event its own space.

Emmet's 8 heart event ended up being 36 pages long alone! Also if you didn't know, Stardew's event format doesn't allow for line breaks so I have been staring at a 36 page wall of text for weeks. I plan to upload a video compiling all the different options later because I feel like all of the "good" options for battle... don't quite make sense in the context of the rest of the story. The farmer is supposed to not be good at battle and lose because they got overwhelmed with information. As the one writing out all the battle options though, I can't bring myself to act like I'm bad at battling. The winning options are extra silly just to justify a loss and because I couldn't bring myself to lie about Wild Charge not being a guaranteed OHKO on Archeops either. Especially since Emmet brings out damage calculations in a few of the options.

On that topic, all of the battle options play out accurately in a real double battle! I tested. Every. Single. Path. In Pokemon Showdown between the halves of Emmet's team.

I had nightmares of reliving this same battle over and over because that's all I did when I was awake. Make it stopppppp 😭

The lines about them practicing were references to me actually simulating everything in Showdown! Emmet's frustration is also based on how making this event took over my brain so now I struggle to comprehend how someone who doesn't know what to do in this battle would feel... Thank you Kade for helping me with that part ^^;;;

Your welcome =3

I actually enjoyed the Pokémon Showdown part - when it comes to Pokémon Battles, I have dabbled a little bit into the competitive side of things. Or at least the massive game of 4D Chess... trying to predict your opponent etc. Bait them into making a mistake, etc. There was a good time where we did nothing but Pokémon Battles for a night. And it was fun.

I am in no way good at competitive side of things - (I lose lot but that's okay.) especially in the double battle format. Single Battles I could do. (Though once again, I'm average at best) However I think the most memorable battle I ever had was back in Pokémon X and Y, where I managed to chip away and stall a Mega Aggron with a Umbreon.. And I think Umbreon was my last Pokémon but I kept using Moonlight to keep my health up. My kid self was super surprised and ecstatic that I beaten the odds... but whenever I do Pokémon Showdown I'm either testing battle stuff or making teams. I'm addicted to team compositions and doing a combination of different Pokémon even if it's not the competitive Meta....

I have the choices sorted into good/bad routes in my mind so in most of the routes, Emmet criticizes the player's decisions based on type advantage, STAB, and target. I was torn between the best and worst options for this recording but thanks to Kade's input, you get to see Durant ramming into Emmet instead of him getting mad at you for conducting Shadow Claw on Galvantula.

Battling Emmet as a first time trainer is not going to go well! Not only is he too competitive and he refuses to let you win (unlike Ingo), he pretty much sets you up for failiure. I'm sorry Emmet but Galvantula's stats are not intended for making her a physical attacker (emphasis on the Egg Move at what cost...).

Not to mention... Emmet is a Battle Facility Head. And you don't get to battle the Subway Bosses in the mainline games unless you have a somewhat decent team halfway through the game. Even still! They can both wipe the floor with you if you're not aware that they are using battle items...

Though I interpret Emmet not going easy on someone as him challenging them to push themselves and exceed expectations. Both Ingo and Emmet as characters encourage others in their own way, Ingo through words and Emmet I believe through his actions. Though he also can say some encouraging things.

Not the most encouraging if you compare their quotes pages... Customer service and communication isn't exactly his forte... But Emmet wants you to do your best and win against him! He likes seeing serious battlers like him! He just won't let you win unless if you push yourself to do your best. You'll have to. He doesn't really have the most beginner-friendly approach...

Considering you the Farmer, have no idea what a Pokémon even is. (You're practically learning everything from Ingo, Emmet, Elesa etc.) The fact you get challenged to a Battle because Emmet wants to share his interests with you - to have you better understand Pokémon.

He just struggles with the fact that, he is essentially challenging someone with no real battle experience and it's a Double Battle at that. Controlling two Pokémon at once?! Think about the effort it takes to command one Pokémon. We all seen the Anime and how trainers struggle to connect with their partners because they're new. They're just starting. They aren't going to be Battle Facility levels of skill.

Not to mention that Emmet is a little deprived in the valley and hasn't really battled any other new passengers in quite some time. At most, he battled Iris once when she came to visit, Ingo (who's Pokemon are optimized for countering/pissing him off), and himself (I had the mental image of him sitting in the field practicing for this event like an old man playing chess against himself in a park). He's a little too far gone to fully understand what a beginner would think in this situation other than mayyyybe it would take a moment to catch them up to speed. (I would know... I swear those option paths rewired my brain...)

After inputting all of their data into Showdown, I had actually forgotten that Galvantula and Durant are Emmet's Doubles Line team while Eelektross and Archeops are the Super Doubles Line team when deciding the matchups. (Been a while since they were in the Battle Subway huh...) Story-wise, I was thinking that Emmet should be with his ace and that he wouldn't really trust anyone else with Archeops since... he has higher support needs (depression bird 💔). Eelektross and Archeops are paired up because of Gastro Acid and Defeatist. I was thinking that Galvantula and Durant are a bit more beginner-friendly; they can take a loss a bit more easilly (a little less so in Galvantula's case... she's a hater). The farmer had already met Durant earlier in the 4-heart event so he'd volunteer to return the favor of fighting for you. Once you win his trust, he's more than happy to help. As for Galvantula... She's testing to see if she can trust her clingy child with you.

I'm excited to dive into the Pokémon NPC stories... Durant and Excadrill especially.

Durant was originally going to have Choice Scarf instead of Quick Claw to help narrow down the options. It was a pain reorganizing my notes and options all over again to lump not only move choices but turn order in mind. My notes were a mess.

Durant and Galvantula are a very luck-based combination so it was ultimately easier to write the different option paths with that in mind since Stardew's event format is verrrrrrrrrrrry linear. All of the options need to merge back into the same event (well... besides the option to refuse his friendship/battle which ends the event in the tunnel). Durant has lowered accuracy while Galvantula has higher critical hit ratios, I could write the battles based on their luck which is great because I wanted to force a loss.

I thought it would be a little too... reductive (it sure would reduce the amount of content >.>) and unrealistic for the player to impress Emmet with a victory on their first battle. Emmet sees this battle as a test on if you can follow his train of thought and be a good match for him because he's a little bit dependent on you for emotional regulation. He kind of expects you as his favorite passenger to have twin telepathy like Ingo since that's his standard operating procedure. You won't. Because you're not Ingo. You're just some weird farmer he got attached to. With the setup of a battle, I wanted this event to develop the farmer and Emmet's relationship to show that they aren't exactly perfect for each other (and Will say things that can be wrongly misinterpreted) but ultimately they will put in the effort to communicate and make things work. They won't have the best communication! But it's there.

While Ingo has a proper library confession, this event doubles as Emmet's "confession" of sorts. Emmet is already pretty openly affectionate by this point and I wanted to make it somewhat ambiguous as to whether or not his attachment to you is romantic or strictly platonic. To him, it doesn't really matter, but he does want you all to himself. He's not fond of sharing!

But... While Emmet's event may be more platonic in intent, you can still reject him. It's a lot harsher than Ingo's because refusing to even let him try to be a better friend for you is pretty harsh in itself. Ingo's is mostly the choice of whether or not you want to send him back to 6 hearts for more dialogue variety (it's really easy to miss dialogue when you try to max out their hearts as soon as possible! We're making lines for every day, season, and heart level.) Rejecting Emmet sends you back to 2 hearts and overrides his daily dialogue for the day with him asking if you're still friends, apologizing, and then getting too upset to say anything more.

Anyways!

From the start, I wanted Emmet to be like Nemona; awkward in their attachment, somewhat intimidating in their obsession/competitiveness, and thinks of the player as their savior from loneliness. He wants to be the best friend you have because you're the best friend he has. It's only fair. Best rival for life, favorite passenger, same thing.

The mountain pass events were actually made because Emmet's original schedule included him waiting around near the bushes there like Nemona stalking the player on their gym journey. NPCs actually can't path there so when he did, he was just deleted from the save!

I also stumbled across a bug back when I made the very first introduction event where a question loops unless if you pick a certain option. I kept that with Emmet forcing you to keep battling with him in mind as a slight reference to how Nemona doesn't let you say no to being her "best rival for life". This question also makes SMAPI hate you!

Gotta love Pokémon's false sense of 'Sure you have a choice. Your choice is always YES.'

There's probably a more fitting flower for Emmet outside of poppies. I just looked up every flower in Stardew (some of them aren't real...) and their meanings in flower language to come to the conclusion of poppies. The meanings in Emmet's event refer to the white poppy in particular. White. Rest. Oblivion. It fits. Good enough. It was a bit difficult to find more on the flower language of poppies in English (particularly the "Oblivion" part) so I resorted to Japanese sites for more information.

In English, the meaning of "Rest" seems to precede every other meaning. Poppies are used in death memorials. Emmet and the farmer did accidentally develop a shared theme of dying (overwork exhaustion, slimes, the mines, etc... Emmet can't get a break. I'm sorry.) but I wasn't sure if Kade was okay with the theme of death being emphasized. With that in mind, I was stunned when I that saw that her first battle map draft included a graveyard. The implication that Emmet picked flowers from a memorial site...

In my mind - the area is an old train stop in between the desert area and the forest/mountains that lead into Pelican Town. Also figured there would be an abandon farm - considering how Pelican Town is struggling it makes sense that potentially other places are not in best of shape either.

The graveyard is possibly dead relatives of whatever family or farmer made their life near the rails. Of course a lot of time has passed... So much so that nature has taken back what was theirs in the first place.

I always make up stories when having a location in mind and this area parallels with the tunnel Ingo takes you through to stargaze around 10 hearts. That area being an abandon coal mining operation.... Coal, Wood, etc. was used to powered steam trains so makes sense for there to be a source for it. I'm not the best when it comes to filling up Tiled Maps with decor - but I at least put down enough for Thylak to come in and make it more fitting for Stardew

The battlefield underwent quite a few revisions, one was having the battle area be more centered, and changing the old warehouse/worker area to be more like a train repair station with a water stop. I wanted it to feel like a place where Emmet goes to keep himself busy when he's told to take a break from working on the station.

Here's the final map! The battle area had to be shrunken down to fit in an event. More grass was added because I kept losing track of Joltik in the dirt. There's more flowers for Emmet to observe the quality of and pick tge best ones as gifts that he's too nervous to give the farmer until they wilt and dry. Poppies by the gravestones, of course!

I also did attempt to make a proper scrapbook sprite for when I eventually have Emmet give you his gift, but I never got around to implementing it properly since... I'm not familliar with adding custom items and its implementation changes in the 1.6 update.

Despite having access to the modding alpha, I've been procrastinating on migrating to 1.6 since HD Portraits isn't supported yet (I know... 1.6 releases in 3 weeks...).

WOO 1.6 WE ARE NO WHERE NEAR READY FOR ALL THE STUFF THAT POSSIBLY GOING TO BREAK. LOL.

Until next time! Thank you for reading!

[lambdollsxx]

how i make scripts aesthetic on google docs (on pc) <33

Part One - Images

! Due to Tumblr's 30 image limit, I'll have to make this in parts. This one revolves around how I sort pictures to make them look aesthetic or just more organised in my script. + I'm not the best at organising tutorials sometimes but I'm trying to not make this confusing <//3

Ignore any typos and errors, thankyou. If you need me to re-explain anything, please feel free to ask. I feel like I haven't explained properly but, idk what else to do, lol :,)

Page isn't broken, to avoid messing up the way images are organised.

— ◦◦◦

What do I use?

Other than Google Docs (obviously), — Fontspace | A background remover [my mains: 1, 2] | Pinterest/WeHeartIt/Google search, and other sources for pretty pictures, pngs, etc. 🤍🌙

bundling images

Using the different text wrapping options, I found that it helped a lot more to "bundle" images together, so that things look prettier + more organised.

! example

This is pretty simple, honestly; Fontspace provides font text as pictures, transparent bg and not, — so organising the text from it will fall under the tut for this bit.

^ These are the text wrapping options. The first one is the default and limits text placement/movement, the other four allow you to move text where-ever on the document (especially if print view is off) but each do different things.

In order of settings, examples (press images to see properly):

! tip : If you're bundling images that "overlap" too much, make sure to crop at least one (or however many needed) past its actual size so that it won't be a pain in the ass moving them later on.

- You may also use "behind text" for one of them, if it helps, so that it's easier to select the images, this also applies to using image over text (examples in each image).

what I mean:

Using these features, I'll—as per the aesthetic of my script—sort things accordingly. Get creative with the way you're doing this, and keep experimenting 'till you're able to make stuff look the way you want, lol.

"BuT DaRLIng wHaT Do I dO wItH ThIS iNFo??!?!?" bitch idk find an aesthetic 💀💀

like those 2016 fashion sticker books or smthn, idk- whatever u like-

Going into the aesthetics more ;; I usually pick diff aesthetics for each script and refuse to script until I find a pretty one LMFOAOAO- But I especially go for inspiration from (Korean?) bullet journal aesthetics which include lots of image bundling and customised tables.

Why korean ones specifically? Idk the difference, but using "Korean" as a keyword gets the stuff I'm looking for. 💀 But I also search for little pngs I want to add to my script; and if it's a false transparent png or has any background, I use my background removers to make it an actual transparent png.

And, sometimes, I like to search for colours then use my snip tool to screenshot them really thin, like those brown-beige borders you see in all my posts, then use them in my script like highlighter lines, like-

That's pretty much it, really.

! examples from two of my scripts

Fontspace fonts apply as well. One thing about Fontspace is that, you can change the colour of the text ;; as well as the background.

The brown colour is the text's colour, the blue one is the background's colour. You can of course choose to have no background, but it's there as an option.

I don't know of any features where you can save a colour but that's maybe me being dumb ;; but what I do is set a certain colour (i.e. blue) then use the colour adjustment in google docs to change it to black, red, or whatever over colours r in the script.

i.e.:

Anyways I'm p close to the image limit, so that's it for this post.

I hope this makes sense bc explaining this was harder than I thought. 💀💀 Once again I can clear anything up if needed

! tips

Keywords you can use for tiny decorations, are "clipart", "[aethetic name] clipart transparent png", "[aesthetic name] sticker png transparent", etc.

You can have a look at the aesthetics wiki for ideas for your script

Fotor is what I use to crop images into different shapes, and it is how I got the circle/heart shaped pictures in my documents ^-^*

...I'll add more when I remember them.

next up ··· customising tables ✿

[airenyah]

Hi, I came to report to you that your ql music research is rubbing off on me 😅 I was watching ep 2 of Ploy's Yearbook (for Joong and Namtan 😍), when suddenly I recognized a piece of music!! But I couldn't place it, so I tried to remember which series have I watched so many times that I'm familiar with the music. I reached the tentative conclusion that it must be from SIMM or possibly from Hidden Agenda (but I definitely connected it to JoongDunk). Maybe I need to do a complete rewatch of both series to confirm, what a hardship 😂 I just wanted to tell you that maybe aside from being a JD vampire bl truther, this will be your other legacy

oh my god, that's amazing!!!!!! i LOVE to hear that!!!!! i'm actually planning on making a side blog focused on shared royalty free music in thdramas, but that's something that is earliest going to happen in the summer if not in the winter. i wanna work my way through some of my fave shows first, because those are the soundtracks i'm more likely to recognize and i just wanna have them on my google doc before i go put everything in tumblr posts (which is also gonna take forever bc my google doc is currently at 100 pages worth of entries sjkfkjsfdj)

aaaaanyway, re: music in ploy's yearbook

was it by any chance desert caravan by ludvig moulin? i haven't watched ep2 yet (i was actually about to go watch it when your message came in and i couldn't help answering it first kjdkfdg), but i did see a clip of it earlier in jimmy's insta story and the scene had this music in the background. it has come up in episode 1 already as well. if it was this, then good job on connecting it to a joongdunk show because it actually has come up on hidden agenda a couple of times! i'm still missing the last 3 episodes on my music collection, but these are the time stamps so far:

ep1 pt1 - 0:13

ep3 pt2 - 0:20

ep4 pt1 - 4:32

ep8 pt4 - 8:08

And here are the time stamps for ep1 of ploy's yearbook:

ep1 pt1 - 11:10 / 17:41

ep1 pt2 - 1:50

ep2 pt1 - 9:38

ep2 pt2 - 0:27

ep2 pt3 - 3:09

ep2 pt4 - 3:07

you might also have recognized get up on that horse by spring gang as the music that plays in bad buddy at the beginning of ep7 when pat is in the car (ep7 pt1 - 1:20) or also in ep12 when patpran claim they broke up (ep12 pt3 - 3:45). oh but wait, it's definitely connected to joongdunk, you said? well, as it turns out this one has actually come up in star in my mind a lot. like. A LOT:

ep1 pt2 - 5:55

ep2 pt1 - 4:00

ep2 pt4 - 1:02

ep3 pt2 - 1:15

ep3 pt3 - 1:55

ep3 pt4 - 1:17

ep6 pt2 - 1:23

ep7 pt2 - 1:48

ep7 pt4 - 0:48

ep8 pt1 - 4:33 / 5:41

ep8 pt3 - 5:07

and here are the time stamps for ep1 of ploy's yearbook again for reference:

ep1 pt1 - 13:00

ep1 pt2 - 2:26

ep2 pt1 - 8:37

and here, have a bonus because why the fuck not: moonshiner's turn by martin landström. this one has shown up in ep1 pt4 of both bad buddy as well as 23.5 degrees. also found in ep1 of ploy's yearbook at:

ep1 pt1 - 18:53

ep1 pt3 - 6:16

ep2 pt1 - 0:35 / 17:30

well, i'm gonna go watch the new episode now! feel free to check back on this post in a couple of hours, i might edit it or add a reblog with all my findings about the music in ep2 😂

edit:

i've added the ep2 time stamps to the aforementioned ones! and i found new music as well!!

maybe the one you recognized as a joongdunk series music in ep2 was winning hand by ealot. it came up in star in my mind a couple of times:

ep1 pt4 - 3:00

ep2 pt2 - 2:20

ep4 pt2 - 9:16

ep8 pt3 - 4:17

it featured in ep2 of ploy's yearbook at following timestamps:

ep2 pt1 - 16:58

ep2 pt3 - 3:45

and there was some more bad buddy music as well (diggin' the drama by the new fools) and it amazes me that my brain immediately went "we know this!!" considering it showed up in bad buddy exactly one single time (ep7 pt2 - 13:45). bad buddy really has wormed its way into my brain in every single aspect in the last two years huh djkfkjdfg. anyway you can find it in ep2 of ploy's yearbook at:

ep2 pt1 - 11:10

apart from these, there were also two pieces of music that sounded increeeedibly familiar to me but neither shazam nor google could come up with any results! i'm gonna have to click through my "not found" list at some point, maybe they're already there. here are the time stamps if you're curious:

first one i can't find (ep2 pt3 - 2:06)

second one i can't find (ep2 pt3 - 7:09)

this is gonna bug me for a while....

[hotcheetohatredwastaken]

currently how long are bdor and its prequel when combined wordcount wise

you brought up 200k and i am both terrified and intrigued. like thats impressive. i am in awe. i can barely put a sentence together much less that many

Okay let me give you a lay of the land. And before we begin, I just have to say that I am so, so sorry. I gave you such a wrong number.

BDOR Arc 1, as of its official word count right now, is 152,892 words. It’s completely written and ready to be published save chapters 15, 18, 20, 24 (12,000 word chapter that has to go 😱) ch 27-29, and then it’s pretty much smooth sailing (with a few minor edits in there and a few scenes to add) until ch 75-76, which need some tweaking, and then the final ch 78 needs a bit of an adjustment as well, and I may delete it completely. All of these chapters specifically mentioned above are in various stages of editing, but generally the story at this point is solid. The final chapter count will probably be 80-82, because there are a few beats that need to be hit that haven’t been, some characters to flesh out more, and lovely beta reader @needfantasticstories revealed some logic errors that I need to spin up some bullcrap to cover💀. I have 9,000 words of notes for things to change in pages, and about that amount of changes in google docs as well. So I’m estimating 160,000 words for the final product there, if not more.

Arc 2 is where it gets SO dicey. My word count in my final doc right now is 44,424. I have another 6,000 ish words of notes in pages to change/tweak scenes/general scene layouts. I have another 15,884 words that have been digitized but haven’t made it into the final document because they need editing. Add onto that about 30?? Pages handwritten that haven’t even made it that far. I usually get about 600-750 words per page, so let’s tally that up to a generous 45,000 since I write front and back. There is leeway of about 20,000 words in there too, because there’s a big chunk of time (heh) I am considering only hinting at happening, but I have written out in their near entirety.

The thing is, I’ve probably written about half of arc 2 with all of that.

So assuming I keep that 20,000 chunk, and assuming I double my word count as I think I will, the final tally here is nearly 110,000 already, which will probably grow to an estimated 200,000 if not more. I am working on cutting this down XD, so stay tuned. The main plot is generally solid, but there’s a LOT of little subplots I need to wrap up lol.

Prologue: this is a little side thing I meant to just be cute little scenes from Twi and Wild’s past and it got away from me. An official 28,424 words of this are written. I’d say I have another 15 handwritten pages (front and back counted, i should clarify) in various stages of editing, so let’s say a generous 11,250. The thing is, I have a LOT of ideas, and once I finalize arc 1 and arc 2, I’m going to have a lot of free time to dig into this while the other story comes out (I probably need to start updating multiple times a week if I want to get this story out before I turn 90 XD). So this number will most definitely grow, but for now it is an estimated 39,674.

Final estimated word count (if I did the math right and also didn’t underestimate my ability to purple prose), everypony?

396,174 words!!

Oh Lord I don’t think I’d realized before I tallied everything up that it was actually this long. I think this project has run away from me. I just wanted to play with my blorbos not write the next Ancient Greek Epic. What the heck. I need to go lie down.

Also just took 3,500 from the final count because I realized I had double counted a chapter sorry ignore that.

But yeah I am hoping to cut down arc 2, so maybe 350,000? That’s being optimistic in my ability to not be longwinded though.

[thetrashywritingwitch]

Ok I'm off for the next four days. Seems like a bust to get ch 46 out by tomorrow night bc holidyasssssss are ass and its uh def gonna be the longest chapter. It's at 15k words so far, 30 google docs pages

[autisticbokutoenthusiast]

why is it that whenever i get the urge to actually write, google docs thinks its the perfect time to take 30 min to reload the page like ??

[lgbtlunaverse]

wip tag game

RULES: post the names of all the files in your WIP folder, regardless of how non-descriptive or ridiculous. Let people send you an ask with the title that most intrigues them, and then post a little snippet or tell them something about it! and then tag as many people as you have WIPs.

tagged by @woobifiedvillain @frodo-of-the-nine-fingers and @tavina-writes

... ALL of them?

i mean i guess i could just forcus on ones i've recenly worked on but that's BORING let's brave the depths! Also, you guys have a wip folder? I have 3 folders organized for different fandoms that countain maybe 30% of my actual wips, the rest I just rawdog in the "recently opened" page of google drive. a good number of these don't even HAVE titles

WELL.

OKAY.

SURE.

honorable mention to my very much finished and NOT wip fic "red string wrapped aorund your throat" which has never actually been titled that in docs. the document is titled "package deal but in a bad way" which sums up nieyao quite nicely.

in no particular order: here are the actual wips. i'll number the ones with no title to differentiate them.

-

In another life

untitled document (number 1)

krknhn au

togachako spidergirl au

triple cultivation au

untitles document (number 2)

the cyberpunk au & where else to go <- (i'm grouping these together becuase they're the same fic just different documents.)

3zun reverse au domestic tidbit

untitled document (number 3)

polycule from hell

there's an engagement ring in my apartment right now

nie parents prelude

chapter 3 warped rail fic

untitled document (number 4) & togachako timeskip au exerpt <- (these are just the same fic again)

an unauthorised fan treatise on the nature of the relationship betweem jin guangyao and lan xichen

character motivations and analyses chapter 3 warped rail fic

warped rail fic layout (outline) <- i'm not sure if the previous 2 count as wips because they're like. supplementary documents?? but just to show you how much chapter 3 fucking haunts me. this isn't even the last doc specifically pertaining to that chapter.

patho fic clara

short story fuyumi

untitles document (number 5)

Siren au

an interesting team (kurodai)

ushiiwaoi royalty au

iwaoi fantasy au <- this one's just a prequel to the previous one. and also finished?? has been for 2 years? maybe i should post it

born with everything snippets

loveless in grace

ushiiwaoi childhood friends au

bnha fic ideas

what would you trade the pain for & nielan side tangent <- (same fic)

untitled document (number 6)

untitled document (number 7)

helpless (kiyoyachi) perspective

ushioi college fic (chapter 3)

the secret behind these doors

ushiiwaoi soulmate

born with everything snippets <- (look it's warped rail fic again i'm not even gonna bother to group these)

dabitwice prequel fic & dabihawkstwice fantasy au

our flag means death fic

deltarune au

arcane fic

family doesn't end in blood

ushisaku single parent au

living up to the name

fuyumi pov extra (chapter 3) <- (IT'S MY NEMESIS AGAIN)

kenhina valentine's day

atsukage wip

ushisakuatsu thread

MA chapter 8 & the nakano meiko arc <- (these are both from montem ascendes. every single Ma chapter has its own doc i am not listing the posted ones)

all seijoh and stz captains are gay, it's the law

wlw bang kiyoyui au

songxuexiao pathologic au

-

HONORABLE MENTIONS PART 2: COMPLETELY 100% EMPTY DOCUMENTS THAT HAD TITLES THAT WERE CLEARLY FIC TITLES BUT I HAVE NO IDEA WHAT THEY WERE SUPPOSED TO BE:

maybe all first loves are like this

i'll wait for you,

-

So in doing this i've found out that A SIGNIFCANT number of my unpublished haikyuu wips do not in fact contain themselves in my google drive folder but on the notes app. On my old phone. That doesn't work anymore. :) If you wanna ask about any of these, feel free to do so while I let myself be consumed by the void.

I am NOT tagging as many people as I have wips. absolutely not. have you seen that list? i'm not sure I even have 51 writer mutuals. i'm tagging 5 people: @layzeal @clementinecoastline @transhawks @jecook @aphrodaisyacs

[not-close-to-straight]

Soooooooooooooo......

Can you share some upcoming stories you have in mind?

Not that I am impatient or pressuring you, I'm just curious how your WIP list is looking. (I kinda imagine your WIP list as 10 pages long 😂)

Also curious how you decided on what to write, what to finish, what to start. Is it just what you feel like at the moment? Do you have deadlines for yourself? Do you write every day?

As you can see, very curious.

Hi! This is going to be a long answer because there isn't many things I love more than getting the chance to word vomit about fic ideas so Buckle Up.

First things first-- I decide how to write based on my commission list (fully funded gets written first) and then occasionally I get The Itch to write a specific idea and have to write it immediately, which is how both Risk and Rest happened-- they weren't commissioned, I just couldn't get the idea out of my head. With commissions I try very hard to set deadlines for myself to give my readers a fairly quick turnaround but this year with my health issues I am very far behind and have apologized approximately 80,000 times for not being able to stick to my usual update schedule.

And YES I write every single day. This last week (Thanksgiving to this most recent Friday) I was hunting so I wasn't writing those days but other than that, yes I write every single day. I use Google Docs for everything that way even if I'm at work or at the doctors office I can open a doc and write down ideas or flesh out outlines or sometimes just straight up write chapters on my phone. I have a healthy dose of ADHD so I can't even watch a movie without needing to do something else at the same time, so I've gotten in the habit of keeping my laptop open while a movie plays so even if I only manage a few pages in a fic, I still can write every day.

OKAY FIC IDEAS.

(BTW I have a collective 50+ pages worth of Steddie ideas/plot points, another 50+ pages worth of BillySteve ideas/plot points and another probably 30 pages of Marvel and/or pairing blind ideas/plot points all stored on my google docs. It's... out of control.)

Upcoming Steddie fics I'm super excited about:

Omega!Steddie-- post season four just softy soft Omegas falling in love with each other. Literally tooth rottingly sweet.

Ghost!Eddie-- will be spooky and angsty AF, Got some really amazing scenes in here I'm stoked to write.

Vamp!Eddie-- will include a gratuitous and definitely unnecessary amount of biting because I've come to accept my biting kink and now will be imposing it on all yall.

Prince and the Pickpocket-- it's giving Oliver Twist and 1800s London and Fagan-esque/artful dodger esque Eddie and rich boy Steve getting mixed up with Eddie's little gang of pickpockets, I am OBSESSED with this idea.

Upcoming BillySteve Fics:

Flayed!Billy Soulmate AU-- this one will, and I mean this with all seriousness, mcfuck you up. I've cried just an astonishing amount of tears just jotting down ideas for this. The angst. The trauma. The soulbonding. The recovery. The falling in love. It's gonna be too much in all the best (worst) ways.

The one where Neil Dies-- I don't have a title for this yet, but Neil is gonna die, guarantee it. This one is Omegaverse as well ft. Alpha! Billy who thinks Steve is an Alpha and cannot handle the idea of Steve being an Omega.

Mob!Boss Billy-- this one came from the TS Song "gorgeous" and sort of snowballed if I'm being honest. Twists and turns and under the desk blowjobs cos why not.

Alpha!BillySteve-- for all the Omega!Steddie is softy soft mcsofty face, this one is just straight up SAVAGE

UD!Billy-- not a whole lot fleshed out for this one but it's my take on the probably already over used trope of "steve goes through watergate and billy is alive on the other side" and its going to be FUN.

I also have probably 15 short stories for each pairing, another several long fic ideas that aren't fleshed out enough to talk about yet and about a billion "wouldn't it be funny if..." blurbs jotted down. I'm basically exploding with ideas.

The flayed!Billy soulmate one will be the first fic I write after I finish up Rest (this month) Codependent (January) and MAMC (we've got.... seventeen more chapters?). It isn't funded yet but I've got a couple people lined up to commission it so that one will be first and then probably the Omega steddie one cos I literally can't stop thinking about that one.

I feel like I have about two years until Season Five drops and shatters my dramatic little heart so I gotta cram all my best ideas in to the next 24 months!!!!

[jamsandsuch]

for the studyblr asks: 🎵 👻 📚

omg i cant believe i never saw this!!

🎵 - describe your “vibe” as a student in a song?

hmm… on a good day? day 1 by red velvet

just a running out of my apartment w bread in my mouth, one backpack strap on, stack of books in my arms, sit in the front row and ask lots of questions, happily answer classmates’ questions kind of person tbh. chaotic and happy academia!

on a not as good day? this is me trying - taylor swift 💀😭

👻 - share an academic horror story! (bad group projects, missed an exam, etc)

omg where do i even begin uhhhhh

in my freshman year i was doing a group paper for a linguistics course on if tonal language speakers have perfect pitch.

the one man in the group says he will handle the outline - proceeds to write the OUTLINE in PARAGRAPH FORM complete with a weird code system that he included a key for at the top of the page????? (# = ‘subject to change’, @ = looking for sources to confirm)????? and he just submits it after we told him we don’t understand it??

also his writing is so UNNECESSARILY VERBOSE its like this man is a walking thesaurus??? and his writing style was so comically goofy??? dude would say “but nay! perchance alternative possibilities exist within that constellation of knowledge gathered by scholars gone by” instead of “however, we offer alternative explanations from existing literature”. sir??? i am NOT about to lose points on a paper for your writing style

30 mins before the deadline i look at the google doc to check it one more time for formatting before submitting. and i see him WRITING OUR PAPER TO ADHERE TO A BRAND NEW THESIS WE NEVER AGREED ON???? and not only was it only his idea, but his idea was literally “music IS language with its own syntax and grammar!”

when i pointed out how this argument may rightfully look strange to a linguistics professor, he said that “if the languages we talk about in our paper like chinese and japanese are languages, how am i wrong?”

i proceed to explain to him what languages are (which is what this ENTIRE course has been about) and why his argument doesn’t hold, using chinese and japanese as examples

he, a monolingual English-speaker who was born and raised in canada, proceeds to tell me i am wrong about chinese and japanese

i was born in japan and raised in china and he knows this

i give up and don’t bother arguing with him as he proceeds to continue ruining our paper and turning it in

he turns it in to the prof and in the email rides a high horse about how he knew this isnt what we planned for our paper and it was his idea, but he has a strong sense of conviction in his ideas (which are wrong)

as a cherry on top he cites jordan peterson as one of his personal inspirations at the end of his email

fin.

📚 favorite course you’ve taken?

ohhhh my course on asian diasporic health!!! it was such a small class and we were all asian immigrants or members of the diaspora and it felt like such a lovely little sharing circle to discuss readings and our own experiences. the prof is so cool too he streams on twitch

original questions here!

[ryan-shepard-writes]

I posted 1,810 times in 2022

50 posts created (3%)

1,760 posts reblogged (97%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@delusion-of-negation

@athena-anna-rose

@chaos-event-horizon

@scientistservant

@spaghetticordez

I tagged 119 of my posts in 2022

#important - 30 posts

#fate's crystal majesty - 28 posts

#ideas - 14 posts

#writeblr - 11 posts

#discourse - 10 posts

#crowlyn nissad coronis - 9 posts

#ask game - 8 posts

#science fantasy - 6 posts

#mature - 5 posts

#writblr - 5 posts

Longest Tag: 139 characters

#no dude she has no character arc. no emotion. every third interaction she has is her telling people they're worthless while the bus cheers.

My Top Posts in 2022:

#5

ANNOUNCEMENT:

So... I completely reworked Fate's Crystal Majesty.

After realizing that the first book was long enough to be almost 2 and a half whole novels... I decided to break it into chunks. In doing that, I've changed several parts of the story that many people have already seen.

BUT!

That also means the book is several steps closer to being worthy of possibly getting published!

So. The website has been redesigned and the live chapters have been re-uploaded as google docs rather than site pages. Not only does this make interaction more smooth, it also creates better ease of access. As always, they are completely open for comments and interaction!

A story can't happen without its reader, after all...

12 notes - Posted September 12, 2022

#4

I have no idea about what bigotry/drama/war unfolded while I wasn't looking (my dash is sprinkled with a wide variety of conflicting takes that do absolutely nothing to clarify whatever the heck I missed) but more and more lately I'm thinking that we as a community need to just... Have a fucking meeting. Because there is a LOT of thinly veiled shit that seems to constantly be happening. Everything from people starting drama about writing about ~bad things~ (a gay person having a homophobic villain character in their works and getting attacked for it) to SERIOUS racism (apparently someone said they want to live in a world/write a world with only one race? The fuck?) to cultural appropriation/deeply rooted lack of knowledge about a culture being referenced (saw a writer trying to just... Claim Aphrodite as a 'trans-masc icon' and trying to rename her 'Aphrodito'???) To mountains of mountains of toxic positivity and/or insisting on asanine levels of 'purity' within the work of other people.

Genuinely. We all need to like... Talk.

13 notes - Posted October 24, 2022

#3

Okay so this is very obviously NOT the finished product. Not even a little bit. But I'm writing a prequel bit for Fate's Crystal Majesty for @athena-anna-rose's writing contest. And. I'm having the hardest and funniest fucking time writing an oblivious straight man. I have no experience in this category of Guy so writing this bit is killing my sensibilities but it's already so fucking funny and I wanted to share. Current progress is under the cut. This is turning into a comedy.

~

~

Contest Story: What Once Was

"I've been meaning to say this for a while," said a voice, light and playful like a bell. "...But you really are pretty cute, mister Crown Prince!"

Solaris Trinidad Coronis nearly slammed his book closed, face turning red as his head whipped around. There, standing behind him, was a young mage— a university student that was younger than him, and a familiar one. Her blonde hair and aquamarine eyes would have been a dead giveaway, even if her uniquely folded 'dog' ears didn't signal her identity and status.

"O-oh, you're… Lunari Nitewing, correct? I believe I've seen you around…" He asked, doing his best to ignore her commentary on him. He nearly winced as he glanced at the nearby clock, suddenly noticing the time.

The young half-Rorvan nodded, grinning. "Yes, your highness. But I'm surprised you remembered my name… They say you spend too much time with your head hidden in these books to notice much, and I'll admit, this library is where I usually end up seeing you."

He sniffed, wolf ears giving a disdainful twitch as he collected his studying materials. "Well 'they' don't seem to know the value of being well-read… but at least they're smart enough not to insult me to my face, I guess…" Though… he thought wryly, I'd have to be blind not to notice the most magical young woman on the planet. "...You ought not to listen to gossip, Miss Nitewing. You have a lot of talent. It would be a true shame if you got caught up in a bad crowd."

"I find your studious nature endearing, actually!" The girl giggled. He suddenly realized how petite she was as she sat on the table, her eyes just barely higher than his were. "Makes you seem like a normal person."

"You'll find that I am a normal person, Miss Nitewing," he said, voice even. "I do what I can to make sure that being a prince doesn't get in the way of being a good citizen."

He stood then, gathering his books in his arms, then gave the girl another quick once-over. Sky blue Rorvan-inspired blouse over white pants, dark boots, a charming blue headband to match her top, tasteful floral scented oils along her pulse points… she looked a bit too nice for a trip to the library.

Is she… going out with someone?

He gave a polite cough. "If you're planning to meet someone, you shouldn't be chatting me up… someone might get the wrong idea if you speak to me."

She smiled almost pointedly. "Oh, I don't know if I'm going out yet… the guy I like doesn't seem to notice me as much as he thinks he does. I'm actually here to talk him into going to dinner with me."

Solaris blinked, suddenly a little surprised and annoyed on her behalf. What kind of idiot wouldn't notice her? "Oh… that's too bad. Someone as interesting as you should be at the top of anyone's list. Are you meeting him here?"

The young woman giggled. "Actually, he's already here. I'm just running a social experiment to see how long it takes him to notice."

16 notes - Posted November 2, 2022

#2

The Crystalline King

~

~

~

Lilly watched as the young Keir—he really was so, so small here—quietly edged towards a door frame. Somehow, despite the fact that she was much further away, voices suddenly came to her the same way they would have if she stood where the young prince did. It was as if, even here, that part of their connection still worked. But the sounds were… odd. Entangled, somehow. It was impossible to tell who spoke, without seeing who was in that room.

"... But you know he'll probably never have magic like us."

"We can't say that! He's only a child, just like Rolph had been before he left because of all this pressure. His magic could manifest any day now, or maybe even years from now, and that's fine!"

Lilly blinked, then jogged over to the doorway, watching things unfold. There stood a young Crowlyn, looking around her own age, leaning against a table and facing the king… who looked very different from when she last saw him in real life, a creepy and dangerous figure with a fake smile and lacking entirely in humanity.

No, this was an entirely different man. Tall, yes, but only barely taller than the average human. Velvety black hair with greying highlights framed his face, and seemingly helped to hold up glasses with a thin wire frame. His shirt was strikingly white and billowy, draping over somewhat lean limbs and tucked into brown working pants and a pair of well used boots, as well as a pair of leather bracers at his wrists. Like Keir, the king wore minimal jewelry. Much of it was made of sturdy leather and gold chain—including a piece resting at his forehead and looping under his hair, which seemed to stand in for a crown like she'd seen Keir wear occasionally. The way he stood and the magical atmosphere around him, however, resembled Crowlyn. He had an aura that even she could feel, and a sense of strength and authority that went beyond the physical. She couldn't quite see his eyes… but she knew that he could probably stop armies with a glare. This was the man from the painting she'd seen. Handsome. Soft features, clean and well-kept hair and close-cropped beard, a voice that was soft, but firm. A smile that radiated kindness—if not also a tight frustration at the current discussion with Crow. He looked so… normal. Like a father. Not at all the imposing and dangerous force that he had been when she’d met him. 

She could understand how Lunari might fall in love with this man, rather than the king she knew he would become.

"But still, an heir to this kingdom must have magic,” Solaris said, “It's the only way we keep our status as leaders over the other Daekin. If it wasn't for Lunari bringing together the other mages and supplying most of the power to build this place, I doubt we'd be held in such high regard. An heir who's empty of magic cannot take the throne while you are still an option to rally behind. It must be you, unless..."

"You're too much of a pessimist. And he doesn't need magic, if he has a mage and advisor,” Crowlyn argued.

"You only say that to avoid your duties, my son. Whether they lead anywhere or not, marriage interviews are part of the job—"

“—An unnecessary part, I assure you—!"

"—and are vital to keeping our family line strong,” the older man sighed, rubbing his neck. Did… did he seem sorry for having to say these things, or was Lilly just imagining it? “Our ancestors were the first Rorvae. The first to undergo the changes back on Earth, and the first to access the magic behind Fate. Our history and future are important things that must be maintained, at any cost."

Changes… back on Earth?

But no one elaborated on her silent question. “Keir can do that easily when he's old enough. Leave me to my own business,” Crow said, an edge to his voice, “And stop trying to force all these petty she-wolves on me! I'm not going to suddenly be more normal just because you set me up with someone!"

"Crowlyn…"

"No offense, father, but I'm tired. You should really go and see your sick wife for once, instead of barking in my ear about something neither of us needs to be concerned about."

As Crowlyn abruptly turned she watched Keir half-fall over himself to get clear of the door, while she also stepped back. He was nowhere near fast enough, though, and Crow—he seriously couldn’t possibly be a day over twenty—nearly tripped over him as he rounded the corner. Upon finding the younger prince, Crowlyn immediately signaled for silence, fluidly picking him up and trotting away.

Lilly glanced between the king and retreating princes, then turned to follow—

"I don't have my wife's talent for discernment, but I'm not entirely blind either."

The girl halted, her head whipping back to Solaris. He'd sat down at the wide table and started to write something. After a moment, he looked up with eyes that bore a startling resemblance to Keir's. They looked like bright gemstones, faceted and glimmering an array of yellows and oranges as light shifted around him. But unlike Keir's warm honey and amber tones, the eyes of king Solaris were hard and cold with their brightness, and zeroed in on her with alarming precision. They looked so light and alive compared to the last time she'd stared him down.

"Well, come in. You don't appear to be here to kill me… and from what little I can see of you I doubt you could regardless. Just skin and bones, you are"

The girl shivered, then entered the room. Once she'd gotten past the door, it clacked shut, trapping her and causing her to jump with a squeak.

"A girl? And human as well, it seems… I have no idea what you're doing here, but you shouldn't be roaming around so… willy-nilly. This place can be dangerous," he said, turning his attention back to what he was writing, almost sounding concerned for her safety. "But I suppose the guards cannot see you, as powerful as your spell is… though I'm shocked Crowlyn didn't spot you either. He's a very powerful mage… perhaps even more powerful than me. He's at least on par with Lunari, when she was younger. He must be just as frustrated as I am, to be so distracted."

Lilly swallowed. "I… don't know if he can see me, since he's who I'm… supposed to be following. 'Dream-walking', I think Crowlyn called it?"

The king nodded absently. "He sent you from somewhere himself, then… and you are a powerful magician in your own right. Your combined magic must have affected his spell, if you're here, and able to move independently. This isn't dream-walking, young lady. You've projected your soul back along Crowlyn's timeline. So... you aren't a spy, nor an assassin. Humor me, girl, why are you here?"

"Well… uh…" Lilly fumbled, her heart racing. Was it even safe to talk to this man? In a few short years, he'd be hurting his children left and right! She didn't want to give him anything he could use.

Solaris paused, then sighed, his shoulders sagging a bit. "It seems I've frightened you by accident… I apologize. When they call me 'the crystal king', it isn't just because of my eyes… I'm also a bit cold and rigid. You've caught me in a bit of a mood. Crowlyn, bless his heart, has put me in a difficult position. I don't want to force him to marry when he obviously isn't interested in women, but a king needs to be able to carry on his legacy. He can't dance around the problem forever, but he also doesn't seem keen on telling me his actual reasons. If he would, I'd be able to relent a bit…"

See the full post

19 notes - Posted August 5, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

Contest Story: What Once Was

Heya! This is my entry into the writing contest being held by @athena-anna-rose! It's a short story involving some characters from my book, Fate's Crystal Majesty, and hints at some of the events to come. I recommend reading it in the original document HERE, because Tumblr breaks everything and doesn't allow for other fonts (and also removed every ounce of formatting in the story).

I put a lot of thought into what scenes to show, so I hope you find the story interesting!

~

~

~

"I've been meaning to say this for a while," said a voice, light and playful like a bell. "...But you really are pretty cute when you're lost in a good story, mister Crown Prince!"

Solaris Trinidad Coronis nearly slammed his book closed, face turning red as his head whipped around. There, standing behind him, was a young mage— a student at the nearby university, and a familiar one. Her blonde hair and aquamarine eyes would have been a dead giveaway, even if her uniquely folded ears didn't signal her identity and status. A human-Rorvan hybrid, with strong magic and eyes nearly as mesmerizing as his own, could only be one person.

"O-oh, you're… Lunari Nitewing, correct? I believe I've seen you around…" He asked, adjusting his glasses, doing his best to ignore her commentary on him and hoping the magic in his eyes hadn't flared up. He nearly winced as he glanced at the nearby clock, suddenly noticing the time. The pups would probably tease him again for staying out so late...

The young half-Rorvan nodded, grinning. "Yes, your highness. But I'm surprised you remembered my name… They say you spend too much time with your head hidden in these books to notice much, and I'll admit, this library is where I usually end up seeing you."

He sniffed, wolf ears giving a disdainful twitch as he collected his studying materials. "Well 'they' don't seem to know the value of being well-read… but at least they're smart enough not to insult me to my face, I guess…" Though… he thought wryly, I'd have to be blind not to notice the most magical young woman on the planet. "...You ought not to listen to gossip, Miss Nitewing. You have a lot of talent."

"I find your studious nature endearing, actually!" The girl giggled. He suddenly realized how petite she was as she sat on the table, her eyes just barely higher than his were. "Makes you seem like a normal person."

"You'll find that I am a normal person, Miss Nitewing," he said, voice even. "I do what I can to make sure that being a prince doesn't get in the way of being a good citizen… or parent, though I can't say I'm doing a stellar job at the moment. I ended up getting lost in my reasearch."

He stood then, gathering his books in his arms, then gave the girl another quick once-over. Sky blue Rorvan-inspired blouse over white pants, dark boots, a charming blue headband to match her top, tasteful floral scented oils along her pulse points… she looked a bit too nice for a trip to the library.

Is she… going out with someone?

He gave a polite cough. "If you're planning to meet someone, you shouldn't be chatting me up… someone might get the wrong idea if you speak to me."

She smiled almost pointedly. "Oh, I don't know if I'm going out yet… the guy I like doesn't seem to notice me as much as he thinks he does. I'm actually here to talk him into going to dinner with me."

Solaris blinked, suddenly a little surprised, and annoyed on her behalf. What kind of idiot wouldn't notice her? "Oh… that's too bad. Someone as interesting as you should be at the top of anyone's list. Are you meeting him here?"

The young woman giggled. "Actually, he's already here. I'm just running a social experiment to see how long it takes him to notice."

Prince Solaris looked around. His lanky build let him have a good view of most places, and from where he was standing… this floor of the library seemed empty, aside from himself and the young mage that still sat rather casually on the table.

I don't see…?

"You know…" she started, and when he looked down at her he found that her eyes almost seemed to twinkle in the artificial light of the nearby reading lamps. "...I've been saving up for this date for nearly a month, so it'll be a shame if he turns me down."

Solaris blinked, noticing a hint of humor in Lunari's eyes, but chivalry won out over his ability to think past the sudden twinge of his heart. "That is quite a power move on your part, Miss Nitewing… but I must say, any man that forces you to pay for him as well as you, isn't worth your time. Call me old-fashioned, but a first date should be a meeting of equals."

She giggled, and he suddenly twitched to adjust his glasses. "If it were a normal man, I'd agree… but I'm afraid that I'm quite fond of this poor soul. He and I haven't talked much, but…" she said, looking up at him, eyes sparkling in shades of blue. "The medium of my magic is Shadow… and shadows tend to talk. This particular man's shadow says he's lonely, and a bit tired from all the stress he's been under after an awkward breakup. I decided it might be nice to treat him and his children to something fun. Maybe ice cream, since I know he has a thing for sweets."

Solaris suddenly blushed. Children? She has eyes for someone with kids? That would make him probably as old as… probably a lot like… and he enjoys ice cream like…

"...Oh."

"I've been watching this man from afar…" she confided, looking almost shy, as if watching the dots connect in Solaris' head while his ears twitched in embarrassment. "I don't think he really noticed. I've been trying not to scare him off, you see, since he's the type who tends to overthink things. I didn't want him to think that I was just approaching out of the blue or that I wanted something I shouldn't… but I didn't quite know how to start a real conversation with such a dignified gentleman."

The prince looked away, rubbing the back of his neck. "...What will you do if he declines?"

"Probably just try again tomorrow. I'm very persistent!"

"And you don't mind that he… has children?"

See the full post

26 notes - Posted November 15, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

[pixiemage]

5, 17, and 43 for the fic ask game!

[For the Fanfiction Writing Ask Game]

Three questions??? You spoil me! <3 I think I'll need a Read More for this one my friend xD

Hahaha! Ha! Ha.

Many. So, so many.

I have a bad habit of starting projects and not finishing them, so I have a plethora scattered throughout my Google Docs files that are anywhere from multiple pages of unposted fic, all the way down to single-sentence unused prompts. Sometimes I left them behind because I lost motivation, sometimes my hyperfixation shifted and I (sadly) couldn't focus on that fandom anymore.

But let's see...uh....I glanced through my older stuff first just to see. But for now I think I'm just gonna count what I'm either actively working on, or what I wish to continue when my motivation returns...because if you counted all the abandoned WIP's I've gathered over the years, I think the number would be close to 30, and I don't want to list them all up here. (Maybe I'll drop it at the bottom of this post if you're curious***)

For one, I have two IronDad fics I plan on finishing: one that's a shorter Mafia AU that's 2/3 complete, and a much longer (and heftier) multi-chapter fic that has been awaiting a new chapter for over a year I think. A Little Late On The Blood Work my beloved...I'll come back when I get inspiration again 🥺💞 I also have an old Jacksepticeye Egos fic called #SamLives that I've been wanting to continue for ages but haven't, along with a Night at the Museum fic (Jedtavius) that I at least need to finish the current arc for because the comment section is sad.

And MOST recently I've got a bunch for Hermitcraft/Empires/Traffic Life that I'm in the process of actively writing...which I believe add up to a total of six?? I think? THREE are partially posted/being updated (Through a Crack in the Void, Domino Effect, There's Not a Word Yet), and the OTHER three (two Team Rancher, one that's literally Every Ship Under The Sun With Some Found Family On Top) aren't gonna be on my plate until I finish some of the other ones.

17. Do you have a writing routine?

Not really! Usually once I get an idea, I just - jump in. If I get stuck and want to skip something just to keep the writing ball rolling, I'll throw one of these in the middle of the page: ASDJNAKFBEKAJBA ...and just leave it for later. It's bold, red, and easy to spot when I'm scrolling through a long document, which is nice! It helps make sure no blank spots get missed in editing! (I also red-dye words, sentences, or paragraphs I'm feeling shaky on, so I can spot them easily and come back later when I get a better idea to fix it.) And if I decide to completely change a section I'm writing, I'll often copy the original version, paste it at the bottom of the doc in case I decide to change it back, and turn it a pastel color so I don't confuse old versions for the current text.

I also sometimes make calendars on Excel/Sheets if I really wanna keep track of time, and I often have a separate (and somewhat disorganized) doc for Notes on my longer fics. There's also a document where I write down potential lyrics options for There's Not a Word Yet chapter titles, but that's the only time I've done that for a fic.

43. Is there a trope or idea that you’d really like to write but haven’t yet?

I feel like someone asked me this a while back, so I've definitely thought about this! But honestly? A mystery or a time-travel fix-it...which I am well aware are two VASTLY different tropes lmao.

I've always been envious and in awe of well-written mystery/detective stories, because so many little details go into them to make them work. I'd love to build one of my own someday, but I have yet to find the right motivation to do so.

As far as time-travel fix-its go...they're just...they're so fun to read, because I love to see how one little change can affect an entire timeline (see also: Domino Effect) but they're also a LOT of work to write because it involved basically retelling a story that's already been written but in your own words and with a twist. Somehow writing something fully original comes easier to me than trying to build my writing around something else that already exists. But god I'd love to have the motivation to write one of 'em anyway! It'd be fun to decide how everything changes all because of one little difference in choice :3

5. How many WIPs do you have?  What fandoms/pairings are they for?

Hahaha! Ha! Ha.

Many. So, so many.

I have a bad habit of starting projects and not finishing them, so I have a plethora scattered throughout my Google Docs files that are anywhere from multiple pages of unposted fic, all the way down to single-sentence unused prompts. Sometimes I left them behind because I lost motivation, though most times my hyperfixation shifted and I (sadly) couldn't focus on that fandom anymore.

But let's see...uh....I glanced through my older stuff first just to check for this hah. But for now I think I'm just gonna count what I'm either actively working on, or what I wish to continue when my motivation returns...because if you counted all the abandoned WIP's I've gathered over the years, I think the number would be close to 30, and I don't want to list them all up here. (But I'll drop it at the bottom of this post if you're curious***)

For one, I have two Marvel/IronDad fics I plan on finishing: one that's a shorter Mafia AU that's 2/3 complete, and a much longer (and heftier) multi-chapter fic that has been awaiting a new chapter for over a year I think. A Little Late On The Blood Work my beloved...I'll come back when I get inspiration again 🥺💞 I also have an old Jacksepticeye Egos fic called #SamLives that I've been wanting to continue for ages but haven't, along with a Night at the Museum fic (Jedtavius) that I at least need to finish the current arc for because the comment section is sad.

And MOST recently I've got a bunch for Hermitcraft/Empires/Traffic Life that I'm in the process of actively writing...which I believe add up to a total of six?? I think? THREE are partially posted/being updated (Through a Crack in the Void, Domino Effect, There's Not a Word Yet), and the OTHER three (two Team Rancher, and one that's literally Every Ship Under The Sun With Some Found Family On Top) aren't gonna be on my plate until I finish some of the other ones.

(One of them is a cute 5+1 one-shot about Tango calling Jimmy "buddy" and Jimmy learning that "buddy" has a lot of different meanings depending on how Tango says it and who he's saying it to. The second one is an extension of a one-shot I already posted called Coming, Coming Home, where S8 HASA!Tango crash-lands in the mesa outside Tumble Town, and like - yeah. Yeah. I'd love to continue that one. And the LAST one is a Double-Life-based Witches/Familiars AU that started as Renchanting Duo and has since extended to every member of the Life series and even some Hermits.)

***ALL THE OLDER FICS I HAVE YET TO COMPLETE: I've got one for Doctor Who, a handful for JSE Egos - #SamLives - one for Night at the Museum, one for Encanto. Six for Marvel/IronDad (including a Mafia fic, a SPN AU, a Peter-gets-shot and Tony-goes-dad-mode hurt/comfort, and A Little Late On the Blood Work which as I said I'm just longing to get inspiration to return to). A witch/familiar Supernatural AU fic and an SPN time travel fix-it that I barely started. There's a TangoTek one-shot I've abandoned featuring his rage moments from both LL and DL. I also have an old fic from high school for a game called Ib that I'd love to revamp someday...and my Original FanFic that started it all, which was for Harry Potter, and I was like 12, and it will never EVER see the light of day. My god. It's...it's rough.