Autopsy 「💉」

— WHITELIST

X Reader fanfics

Headcanons

Dead Dove , " Violent " / Toxic , Yandere , Or otherwise uncomfortable stuff ( I love writing stuff like this <3 )

Romantic AND platonic hcs

Suggestive Content

Anything not on blacklist o7

— BLACKLIST

Smut

Canon x Canon

Full fledged fics

Genuinely that’s like it lmao

— ABOUT BLOG / AUTHOR

I ( Author ) have ADHD and will struggle to write things that aren’t related to my hyperfixations , please only request things from the following sources ; Outlast Franchise ( Primarily Whistleblower , 001 , and trials — Not yet finished 002 ) , and Umamusume !

^ Hyperfixation rule may occasionally be broken but only for close friends of mine. If I do not know you, please do not ask — the answer is no

I’m a self-taught writer so my stuff may not be the best ! Please be respectful and kind ! Feel free to leave any feedback in the ask box !

I post canon x canon fics on my AO3 ! I do not take requests for them. You can find it here !

— TAGS

📁 : Filed Away — Writings

📁 : To the point — Requests

📁 : Finding everything well ? — Asks

📁 : Howling — TXT posts

📁 : Moonshine — Reblogs

[E] : Welcome Back — Anon tag

— ANONS

"Warm smile Anon" : 😊 , 🎀

— MASTERLIST

I think Otto would prefer you play as a house pet of some kind; an obedient dog or a clingy cat whereas Arora would prefer you to be something regal like a show-pony ; I feel as though they’d come to sort sort of compromise where you alternate between each role depending on the day or scenario

They’d both dump plenty of funds into pampering you — buying you a fancy collar and reins , Getting you custom made hoods colored royal purples with pink accents and gold metals. They have someone personally make your food ( though they’re the ones who serve it )

Otto leans more towards the domestic end of Petplay , he loves having you on his lap while he works — falling asleep to the sounds of his pen writing and Aroras vials clinking against one another. He loves to pet you, especially scratches under your chin and on your head. He tries teaching you tricks; how to roll over and give paw.

Arora on the other hand prefers you only stay in petspace during intercourse or otherwise sexual encounters, She loves the power during the act, but outside of it she’d prefer to have you in somewhat similar playing fields as her. That being said, She’s not beyond domestic forms of Petplay, especially if she’s especially in need of a power trip.

She’d love to take you out to the garden and have you prance around for her, Jumping over higher and higher obstacles. To her, It like watching a real horse show.

Otto would similarly love walking you around the garden , tugging on your leash every now and then for a good laugh. If you’re leaning more towards the cat end of the spectrum, Though, he’s love to pet your stomach as you sunbathe or give you a treat for especially good behavior

Overall , they’re very loving handlers , even if a bit cruel during actual intimate encounters.

Pinned to the floor at the back of the department store, you knew the fate that awaited you.

Bored and unamused by arm wrestling, you had joined a group of three other random reagents in a trial; "Kill the politician". You didn’t realize said trial had been invaded until you stumbled across an imposter dressed as yourself. It didn’t attack you immediately, but you knew better and fled anyway. As the trial went on, your teammates were slowly picked off, leaving you as the last alive, now cornered in the back of the department store, like a mouse caught in a trap.

Your body jolted as the imposters hand lifted, though it didn’t claw or slap. It ran its fingertips over your E.S.O.P, eyes darting to your chest. You couldn’t see its face beneath the plastic mask it wore, but you could hear its heavy panting. It leaned forward, moving its hand to slip under your shirt. Its hands were warm and sweaty, uncomfortable on your skin, though it seems so giddy.

Leaning forward, the imposter pressed its body against yours, giggling a bit as the plastic of its mask pressed against your lips, mimicking a kiss. Its hands slithered from your shirt, grabbing at your hips and bringing you closer, even as you thrashed in protest. The thing made filthy, wet kissing noises as it mushed the masks lips against your real ones.

A blare rang through the room, making both you and the imposter jump, the insertion gate calling for it. With a disgruntled groan, it clamored off of you, picking its knife off the floor and running towards the gate, leaving you a crumpled mess on the floor.

Reagents like you are a dime a dozen, Thrusting yourself into immediate danger for the mere suggestion of a reward, Sinyala was proud to house you.

It was no surprise when one of the prime assets started taking interest in you — seemingly more so than the very doctors ‘helping’ you.

When their obsessive and irrational (as if they were rational before..) behavior was picked up on by some of said doctors, they went to Easterman, of course.

Tobacco on his tongue and many, many possibilities now opened in his mind, Easterman ordered your behavior continued with little interference.

And so, Your fate was sealed.

Coyle refuses to accept he’s attracted to you at first, let alone that he’s obsessed with you. The idea that anyone — let alone lowly scum like you, could have that sort of power over him in a place like this? Disgusting.

Once he comes to terms with it all though, He gets a sort of euphoria about it, almost as if he’s going through a honeymoon phase. He’s not nice about it, though.

He’ll whistle for you like he would drug dogs back before all this. It gives him a sense of nostalgia, and an even greater sense of appreciation when he hears you whine from the noise.

Aside from whistling, he’ll call for you in other ways; “C’mere mutt!” Is one of his favorites. If he’s feeling sappy, he’ll call you a good dog while patting your back or scratching your ears.

He really adores your whining and whimpering. It’s different than the others, He’d say it’s animalistic but that’d be redundant, wouldn’t it?

He wants to get you a shock collar so damn bad. Unfortunately, The white coats have labeled it a “liability”, and thus denied him the satisfaction. He’ll find his own sort of work arounds, of course! Thank god for loose wires, right?

He hates when other Reagents pet you. He’s not very touchy himself (not in that way, at least. It’s too soft for him.), but when other people do it he gets pissed. It’s times like these he wishes he had a better weapon, he’d rip off their damn hands if he had the chance.

He keeps a close eye on you during trials, especially if you’re with other reagents. He chuckles affectionately when you trip while carrying evidence to the courtrooms fountain or when you slip while running through the police station. You may not see him, but he sees you.

If one of your teammates does something that gets your tail wagging, he’ll jot it down to use against you later. For example; a fellow reagent says you did good and your tail wags? Next time he catches you alone, he’ll kick at your sides while ranting about all your faults. He’ll tell you that they’re lying to make you feel better, and god will he get giddy when you cry.

In my mind, Yan Coyle would use more mental manipulation to get his darling. It’s not because he’s against physical torment, but because he enacts said torment so often that it wouldn’t get his point across. That being said, he’ll do whatever he needs to get your attention. So if he needs to, he will happily fry a friend of yours in front of you.

He’s gonna crop your ears purely in hopes of it hurting you, sorry man

Liliya was no stranger to clingy people, nor to handsy people. She was a saint, A messenger of god, it was more atypical for people to refuse physical attention from her. You were special in your affections, though. She didn’t tolerate your touch like she did others, she practically bathed in your affections. Having you on your arm was a blessing, she loved how you’d trace your fingers over the patterns of her tights, how you’d fidget with the lace which covered her.

It seems the doctors, however, did not appreciate how your clinging affected your performance.

After another bad grade, You found yourself being berated by easterman, forbidden to continue with your.. appreciation. He said it was because of your performance, but time didn’t affect your grade, and Liliya didn’t hurt you; he was jealous, you’re sure. Nonetheless you figured you’d listen, lest you end up like dawn.

Liliya caught on immediately.

You didn’t run into her arms, didn’t smother her with your sweet touch like you typically did. It upset her, had she angered you? You must tell her. You will tell her.

She finds you rather early on, pinning you down in the lobby, behind one of the reception desks. You think she might hurt you for a moment. You’re surprised when she doesn’t.

Not one for words, she simply grabs one of your wrists, pulling it to her chest and resting it over her heartbeat. Its pounding.

Worship your messiah, she’s waiting.

You were good at your job.

You were respectful of patients, even despite how common mistreatment of them was, You did overtime often for little to no pay, and you had an almost perfectly clean track record when it came to operations.

It’s a no-brainer that you ended up getting brought on for project lathe.

Unfortunately, it appears the director has taken a liking to you.

He’s jealous of you and your work almost immediately, no matter how different your fields are. You’re in his mind almost constantly, and it infuriates him. ESPECIALLY before his divorce. Men are supposed to be strong, how dare you tempt him!

Near the beginning of it all, Easterman is surprisingly cordial; sure, he asks for you more than other doctors, and sure, He might pay you a pinch more than your coworkers — but for all you know, his favoritism comes from his appreciation of your talents! Plus, who are you to reject more money?

As time goes on though (and especially after the Amelia incident), he gets stranger.

He asks for you frequently, almost horrifyingly often. Always for nonsensical purposes too. “How have recent procedures been?” “Well.” “Any reagents doing especially good?” “No, As you’re aware.”, etcetera.

Easterman will try to separate you from your coworkers. He’ll try to implement thoughts in your head that your colleagues hate you. If you don’t listen to him (or you don’t care), he’ll start rumors about your pay being more than others and hope the judgmental and angry looks break you.

Easterman is pathetic, We know that. So pathetic in fact, that he decides to study everything about you. He keeps copies of reports you wrote so he can study your hand writing, He insists on watching over procedures you take part in; Part of him wishes he could throw you in a trial just to watch you limp back out.

He’s very touchy with you. Nothing too intense, he can’t have HR hearing about it — but just enough to satiate him. He’ll Pat your shoulder or your back, Make sure to brush fingers when handing you a file, and if he’s lucky he’ll manage to get a hug from you.

He loves watching you work. The precision with which you slice reagents open makes him so giddy he could hurl.

To him, You’re a mosquito. Buzzing around and sucking out his life essence. And as much as he wishes he could, he can’t bring himself to squash you.

He tries to help you plan out the wedding, especially if he thinks you’re stressing yourself out. Don’t worry, He’ll send the invitations, he’ll figure out a venue. You want to help him pick? Of course! Just don’t worry about the booking, okay? He’ll get it done.

While big displays of romance aren’t really his thing, He’ll try to do something big for your marriage; He has some of his subjects perform a play for you and him. It encourages their creativity and makes you happy — His two stars shining bright, his kingdom and his love. He pays the performers handsomely, don’t worry.

Sometimes, he’ll take your hand and just stare at the ring resting on your finger, his thumb rubbing comforting circles into your hand. It’s silver, a dark blue gem resting in the center. “It’s perfect,” he starts “almost as perfect as you.”

He loves to ball dance with you. Seeing you all dressed up, body swaying to soft music, it really does melt his heart.

You’ll have to teach him to relax. He loves his kingdom, But it gets stressful to manage. Insist that he sleeps and that he eats, He’ll listen to you.

He’ll try to take up gardening once he meets you. He wants to make you a big, beautiful garden full of your favorite flowers! It’s difficult, given the snow, but he tries. Eventually he gives up and hires professional gardeners to do it for him. You giggle once he confesses, His cheeks flush with embarrassment.

He loves taking you out with him and seeing you interact with his people! You’re so amazing, They deserve to know it too. That being said, they’re not allowed to touch unless they ask. He won’t hurt them, but a stern look from the king of blackrock might as well.

He’s especially active during "Spread The Disease”, Will try to convince you to sneak one of the STD bottles back into your sleep room, for his sake.

He wants you to get tested SO bad, If you somehow convince a doctor to test you, he will genuinely lose his shit.

If you’re negative, lucky you! Unlucky him! He will try to force the aforementioned STD bottles down your throat. If you’re positive? Oh god.

Pusher absolutely embraces the assumed filthiness of it all. He insists you call him filthy, a freak, genuine scum for his little fetish. It’s all the same to him.

He gets incredibly touchy if his partner does end up positive. Constantly pulling and tugging at you, like a whiny child at the store.

If you’re negative, he’ll get himself high off his ass just so he can convince himself otherwise. Because he loves you, he really does! He won’t leave you over this! Really, it’s nothing a little loving won’t fix.

He’ll talk to you all dreamily about everything he’s learned about infections, patting your back when you gag or throw up from how graphic it’s going. You hope that the doctors don’t realize this and implement it in your further therapy.

He over-analyzes every single rash you get, which is a lot! With all the running you’re doing, you chafe a LOT, it gets annoying how much time he spends looking then over, as if it’d give some sort of sign.

Rest was a luxury Liliya could seldom afford — Ever since she was little, Gods calling kept her up until the crack of dawn. It taught her to be patient for the sun, for the peace it brung, as well as to be angry with the sloth of those around her. Others could rest, could wander off into lands of beauty, but she had to sit and wait for the world to bustle again. It was agonizing.

Thankfully, Sinyala never slept.

Reagents were always up, Doctors always desperate to analyze her (One could only take a bottle to the head so many times). So here she was, hunting despite being on the cusp of 70 hours without rest. Her body shook, Aching with exhaustion, but she pushed forward.

Dragging herself from one room to another, She peaked through open doors and shattered windows for some sort of sign, but came out empty handed. She cursed herself, clicking her tongue. Her outfit was tight on her skin, something she hadn’t thought about before now. It dug into her flesh, marking her as a product of Murkoff. Stress seeped from her pores as she continued through the hallways of the resort, chill joining in to bite at her flesh. Part of her wanted to cry, to regress back into that little girl who wanted to tear the earth in to for doing this to her.

Then she heard it.

A soft, melodic song rang through the empty hallways. She perked up, a rush of adrenaline coming to her. A reagent.

She turned her body, making cautious steps towards the source of it, until she found herself in front the employee only kitchen. Slowly, she opened the door, until she found herself faced with you.

You were on your knees, humming a soft song as you disabled the battery plugged into the wall; presumably to receive one of the keys around the resort. She took a step forward, and you stopped. You turned to face her, breath hitching and song stopping.

She leaped at you, pinning your hands down. Her head hovered above your neck, and you swore you could feel her breath.

“Song.” She murmured, “Huh?..” “Your.. Song.”

You swallowed, taking a moment to breathe before continuing with your melody. You felt her begin to relax, her grip on you loosening. Eventually, she went limp. Collapsing in your arms.

You could’ve left. Really, you should’ve left. But you couldn’t. Smoothing a hand down her back, you felt her body shake with each breath, and a pang of pity ran through you.

You continued your song, she continued her rest. She no longer had to wait for the sun to rise — the sun was singing for her.

Depending on the day (and further more his mood) you’re either his hunting dog or his prey, usually the latter. He likes to set you off in the forest near his home and run after you, it gets his blood pumping.

He gets your ears cropped, you have no say in it — of course. Argue with him all you want, it’s going to happen, he’ll make sure of it.

Sometimes he’ll choke you just so you’ll claw at him. He likes the way your nails dig into his skin and the marks they leave behind, it’s orgasmic in it of itself.

He puts a collar on you. It’s loose, but tight enough so you can’t itch your neck. He teases you if you ask him to loosen it. “Awww, too much for you to handle? Poor thing.”

He’d never admit it, but he appreciates how affectionate you are, it makes him feel all warm inside. That being said, he’ll purposely distance from you at times just so you act more clingy once he returns.

He’ll have you sit under his desk while he works, a hand in your hair. He kicks at your stomach sometimes, he likes to hear you wheeze in pain.

He helps you with your transition, yes, but he holds it over your head. In reality, he’d give you them anyway, but it’s fun to make you embarrass yourself for him.

He prefers to help or at least watch you do your T-Shots, you’re not allowed to use gel.

If you haven’t gotten surgery yet and you want it, he’ll pay for it to be done — but it’ll take a while before he trusts you enough to do so. If you can stay alive for a year or two, he’ll do it.

You make him feel and think about things he’s not yet ready to face — so instead he puts you down and tortures you, ignoring how your love makes him feel just as amazing as your pain. He hopes you don’t see it.

Stumbling into eddies little section of the asylum had been an honest to god mistake, You got a little mixed up during your escape attempt, Walking right into what was now his workshop. You wandered around for a bit, trying to find a way out; unfortunately, he found yourself first. He planned to cut you up like every other slut he had, but while prepping you, he came to find you had exactly what he was looking for. It was only a few hours ago, but it felt like forever. Forever, Standing here, letting him fit you with a wedding dress while rambling about his plans for the two of you.

“You’ll look so beautiful walking down the aisle, my love..” Eddie sighs happily, stepping back to get a good look at you. The words had barely registered in your dissociated state. “And you’ll look even better during our honeymoon! Barefoot and round with my seed…” that broke you out of your haze, a shiver running down your spine — you pushed your tongue against your teeth, trying not to vomit. “Oh, you’re nervous, aren’t you?” He hummed, smiling and pressing a kiss to your cheek. His lips are wet with spit, leaving a gross wet spot on your skin, something you paid little mind to as your brain tried to find a way you could reason with him. You hated the idea of childbirth, of pregnancy itself. It had almost always been a fear of yours. So bad in fact that you hadn’t been able to make it through your reproductive health classes back in school; Anxiety overflowing at every word your teacher spoke.

“Eddie..” you started, “I don’t really.. want kids. I mean, I love you! But just the thought, it makes me feel sick, and-“ “Darling,” he cuts you off, hands on your shoulders and lips in a tight frown. “Please, don’t say nonsense like that, you sound like those filthy whores..” you shiver as you recall the numerous corpses you saw scattered around his workshop, but you can hardly tell the difference between that and the fear of pregnancy. “I know! But I think I’d genuinely go insane if we had to.. y’know!“ you plead, hoping to whatever god will listen that he’d stop, that he’d let you off the hook. You’d been complicit, docile even! He simply sighs and shakes his head. For a moment, you think it worked, and then you realize the canister of sleeping gas he now holds in his hand. It must’ve been buried under the rubble on the floor somewhere, just out of your view. You immediately step back, trying to scream for him to stop, but he’s persistent — Lunging at you and pinning your hands down, spraying the gas in your face, sure it’ll get to you. He holds his breath until he can’t anymore, a frown on his face.

“Why couldn’t you make this easy for me, darling?” He murmurs to himself, stepping off your sleeping form and tossing the canister of gas aside. He picks you up, brushing a strand of hair from your eyes. “It’ll all be better soon, don’t worry. I’ll fix you up..”

You wake up in an unfamiliar room, Eddie missing from where you lay. Your arms are tied up, bound by rope. The bed frame is the first thing you see. You’re dizzy, head pounding. Your body tingles, a thighs stinging with pain. You can feel sweat dripping down your body, shivering as the droplets roll down your skin and onto the mattress. They’re cold, for the most part — Chilled by the air of the asylum. Oddly enough, the sweat near your thighs feels warmer, and.. thick? Thick.. wait.

You twist your body so you can get a better view of yourself, panic flooding your veins. And to your shear agony, you find a mess of blood and release leaking out of you. You hurl, turning your head to the side to avoid vomiting onto yourself. It’s no use though, the liquid dripping down into where the mattress dips to accommodate your body. Tears prick in your eyes. You try to reason with yourself; just because he came inside you doesn’t mean he got you pregnant, right? Maybe he got unlucky! Maybe it’ll all be okay! Then you remembered how you got here in the first place, how he had used the sleeping has to knock you out. He could always do that again, if he was even kind enough to keep you around after a possible second rejection. The tears that had threatened to spill finally escaped your eyes, head reeling to make sense of it all. You sobbed, broken apart in only a few hours.

You sobbed.

Before Sinyala, you worked as the ringleader for a traveling circus. You did more than just planning and announcing, though. You took it to extremes — Involving yourself in performances despite having no previous experience. Often times, you and your colleagues would get scraped up, if not entirely gored. Somehow, you turned this from vomit inducing horror to show stopping entertainment. Your performances made you exactly what Sinyala needed for a new prime asset. You were strong, Manipulative, and most importantly, Charismatic.

Clyde Perry came to find you during one of your performances, being able to see your acts up close and personal. He followed you after the performance, more thankful than ever that you didn’t try to kill him like the others had.

When he proposed the idea of being a prime asset, you were hesitant, but eventually accepted the deal under the guise of having a what was essentially your own personal circus in Sinyala Facility.

So, You became a Prime asset! Equipped with a whip to hunt down reagents :)

— COYLE

“Just because I’m aroused doesn’t mean I approve” or however the line goes..

Yeah no, he hates you! He hates everyone though, to be fair

Prime time with you is a test of his sanity, he swears by it. You’ve got organs strewn up like party decoration. You could at least be subtle, couldn’t you??

That being said, you make good entertainment, you’re the most fun he’s had since coming to the god awful facility — one man can only watch reagents fall on their asses so many times before it becomes boring.

Also — Both of you have shit weapons compared to the other PAs! He’ll make a few dumb jokes about it with you. Give him a laugh, it’s the least you could do.

— GOOSEBERRY

Some entertainment for her and the kids! How fun!

She loves watching your performance and she loves having you watch hers! Two starlets on the same stage :)

She’ll fix you up some puppets based off of circus animals you remember having. She’ll watch you gasp with joy when she gives you them, giggling at your lackluster attempts at puppeteering and ventriloquism. She’ll teach you, don’t worry!

She’ll ask if you’ve ever seen her show, she gets a bit disappointed when you tell her you unfortunately haven’t, never in one place long enough to do so.

Prime time with her is lovely! She adores what you’ve done with her environments — and you can surely say the same for hers :3

— FRANCO

Oh he finds you entertaining alright.

For once, you come to hate your uniform. It’s a big tight on you, and he’ll stop at no end to look over everything he can.

The shoes especially! Sleek and heeled; you’ve got great taste, don’t you? Why don’t you give baby a taste?

He’ll turn every part of you into something perverse. The whip doesn’t help with that. Baby needs spanking, or something ..

Prime time with him is hell, It’s best you don’t think about it.

— KRESS TWINS

Oh yes, dance for them! They’re elites, why wouldn’t they receive in house entertainment?

Other than gooseberry, they’re your biggest fans. Watching you like they’re at the theater.

Otto appreciates your behavior, how you manage to lure in the hypothetical audience with so few words. It reminds him of his position in politics, in a way.

Arora is more appreciative of the acts themselves — especially the practical affects. She’s constantly thinking about how her chemicals could enhance the performance, not to put yours down, but to elevate it.

Prime time with them is a delight! They’re cocky, of course, but they’re kind to you, even if they catch you disemboweling a reagents corpse for no discernible reason..

— LILIYA

She doesn’t have time to care for your performances, your inhuman behavior is more important to her.

She’s seen how you act during trials, choking reagents and still taking the time to pull them apart using whatever you can.

She listens to you talk about your circus animals from time to time, and she can’t help but appreciate how much you love gods creatures, even if you’re a bit unholy yourself.

She might watch your performances from the shadows; listening in on your words so she can learn how to better attract possible followers

Prime time with her is alright. She’s rather silent, and you two barely bump into each other. Sometimes, she’ll find you struggling with a corpse, stepping closer and silently slicing its stomach with her blade before walking off. She likes you, she just won’t show it.

Stretching their limbs, They wait impatiently for the next reagent to come through, clipboard laid on the small desk in front of them.

All things considered, The job was fun. It was tiring and mentally straining, sure, but fun. Watching what were essentially oversized lab rats run around was most of their job, just incase one of them showed any interesting activity.

That’s where they saw you.

They couldn’t guess how long you’ve been here; sure, they hadn’t seen you before, but there’s thousands of reagents and personnel here, chances are they just hadn’t come across you yet.

They watched as you stumbled towards their observation window, wounded and presumably high (the pusher was sent in not too long ago, and almost anything here could’ve scratched you up.), and something within them stirred.

They watched with interest as you crumpled into a pile below, your blood smearing the observation window — bleeding must’ve got to you.

Don’t worry, Murkoff will take good care of you.

They’re still incredibly cruel to you. Even if they have feelings for you, they have a job to do, and you won’t get in the way of that.

They love watching you do trials when they get the chance — giving you a smile as you run past. It’s cocky, And it makes your blood boil. That’s what they love about you, how you get when you’re stressed.

They like waving at you when you approach. Wave back at them!, It’ll be sweet! Just ignore how there’s a big grunt rightttt behind you

They keep track of the grades you receive from Easterman. If they aren’t they’ll try to figure it out, listening in for a mention of your reagent number. They’d never ask around though, That’d embarrass them and probably get them in trouble.

Another thing they can’t do without getting in trouble: talk to you. They can only really speak with you during your required procedures, So they instead have to just watch. It’s annoying, they’d love to chat with you! Probably, maybe.. actually, They’d love to talk at you.

Procedures with you are their favorite, They get almost giddy whenever they see you fall apart during a trial.

They’re not the only one in the operating room, of course. That’d be unprofessional. Usually the other person turns a blind eye to their unusual behavior with you, though. How slow and careful they are with putting you back together, how they practically dig around in your organs. It’s disgusting. Thankfully, their mask hides the blush coating their face. If only you were awake, Kicking and screaming like you do in the trials. The Ex-Pop and PAs have no clue how lucky they are to have you like that.

They might “accidentally” make extra lacerations on your body, just to watch you struggle more when you get back to the trials. They can’t help but snort outa laugh when you bump into something, hissing in pain as the gash collides almost head on with the corner of a box or table.

You’ll never find out they like you. If anything, it feels quite the opposite. They make fun of you during procedures and distract you during trials, it’s like they’re trying to fuck you over. Their meddling leads to poorer and poorer grades, until eventually Easterman decides you have no use anymore.

They’re watching over a snitch trial this time. It’s boring, the reagents doing it are experienced, so they’re quick. Theres no struggle, no winces of agony. It’s nothing like you.

Speaking of, they haven’t seen you since their last procedure on you. They assume you’re still healing, but they haven’t seen you in your sleep room either. It was seemingly cleared out recently, returned to how it once was.

Their bored eyes scan over the snitch, Waiting for the Reagents to find the keys and unlock the gates, and then they notice something..

There’s a lash on the Snitches ankle, Leaking puss. It’s infected, that’s not the uncomfortable part. The uncomfortable part is that they swear they did something like that to you not to long ago.

Their gaze drags higher, eyes no longer heavy with boredom, they notice more of the cuts they made, and eventually it hits them.

It’s you. You’re the snitch.