#another one for goretober! sorta

[broken-clover]

Hi!! I seriously love your Guilty Gear writings! All of the characters are written so perfectly, I absolutely love your takes on everyone. One fic from you that really got me thinking was specifically one of your Goretober stories - the one for day 10 centered around Ky! It got me to wonder what would happen after the fic, and how the world and the people close to Ky would react. The struggles Ky goes through and the constant need to always act like he's alright is portrayed excellently in the story. How would Dizzy and Sin react in the aftermath? How would Sol react? Ky being seen as this seemingly infallible hope, which ends up killing him thinking he has to live up to that reputation. THIS HAS BEEN CAUSING ME SERIOUS BRAINROT <-- person who is insane about Ky Kiske's struggles and sometimes how little the narrative gives him time to just. process stuff. ALSO THANK YOU FOR TAKING YOUR TIME TO READ THIS!!!

HOO BOY. Whether intentional or not you've just unlocked something in me.

First of all, thank you! Thank you so much! I always love to hear when I made something people enjoyed or found interesting. I enjoy it even moreso when it's something old, because it means even after being up for so long there are still new people reading it and getting something out of it! It's such a touching sentiment and it gets to me every time.

So, funnily enough, at the time of writing it, I'd also conceptualized an extended ending/followup/some such or another because I thought it might be interesting to explore the concept more. It sorta died off because I have way too many concepts and plenty of them just don't make it past conceptualization, and in part because I wasn't sure if I'd be able to write and handle the matter tastefully, because I know something like this needs a good degree of tact as to not come off as gratuitous or accidentally idealizing that kind of behavior. 13 Reasons already did enough damage, I didn't want to contribute to that.

I'll put the rest of this under a readmore since it'll be covering a lot of suicide-related stuff and I don't want to accidentally make anyone uncomfortable.

I actually sorta retrofitted that concept into the Goretober prompt, because in the original draft, Ky was supposed to shoot himself. However, that wouldn't be made clear at first. Dizzy would be the one to find him dead, along with a note where he plainly discusses his 'weakness' in not being able to tolerate the weight of his burdens anymore. In her panic and grief, she hides it, convincing herself that something more sinister is at play. The majority of it was supposed to have been framed like a thriller mystery and largely consisting of investigations to try and make everything make sense (how did someone even get a black-tech firearm? How come nobody saw anyone leave Ky's office? Why was there no sign of a struggle?). The castle would be thrown into confused turmoil trying to figure out who the 'murderer' is and wondering if the other kings are at risk, with Sol taking the lead in the investigation as a way of venting his inability to process the fact that Ky is dead and not knowing what to do with himself with such a large fixture of his life suddenly gone, at one point even confronting the assassin's guild and losing his temper to physically fight Slayer. Sin would also have a sideplot in trying to process his loss and reconcile with his father, angry over the fact that any potential reconciliation after the events of Overture and his childhood can't happen anymore.

Eventually, after Sol does enough sleuthing, he reluctantly realizes that none of the events line up, and the only way that it makes sense is if Ky did it to himself, on purpose. It's not a truth anyone wants.

[southstardrabbles]

hi everyone! as a late halloween post and as something to fill the time till i finish my masterpost (should be done later today or this weekend), have this thing i wrote for goretober last year!

not sure if it really counts as whump but i liked how it turned out lol tags: decapitation, gore, cannibalism, lab setting (sorta), a wee bit of implied magic

The facility is still, dark, and empty. Only the sound of footsteps cuts through the silence like a razor, the only sign of life in the sprawl of endless hallways. Boots echo on the tile floor, shards of glass lodging deep into the rubber soles. The air reeks of blood, thick and oppressive. A few fluorescent lights sputter here and there, clinging to their fixtures by a few faulty wires. 

The rest of the facility—or what’s left of it—is darkness. 

Atlas is a one-man infiltration team. The mission is simple, of course: find Nightfall, subdue it, and get it back into containment. A job much easier said than done, even for someone like himself. He’s lost too many men to let this chance go to waste.

The first indicator of Nightfall’s presence is always the smell—acid and ammonia and the faintest hint of formaldehyde, sharp enough to cut right through the stench of the rotting hallways.

The second indicator is the corrosion. Patches in the floor and ceiling have been seared away, scorched and still smoking a dark purple at the edges. 

And then, of course, the most important tell is the sound. A sound almost like a death rattle, the chattering of teeth and a slow gurgle of bile. The most reliable way to locate Nightfall, but by far the most dangerous. 

Atlas keeps walking, following the breadcrumb trail of still-smoking patches on the floor, watching his step as he draws closer and closer. The thick fabric covering his nose and mouth keeps the worst of the smell at bay but his eyes still water in protest as if his entire body rejects the idea of coming back to this place.

And then he hears it.

A quiet sound from up ahead, something ripping and crunching. The sound of skin and muscle tearing. With a slow breath to calm his senses, Atlas rounds the corner.

Nightfall sits on its haunches in a halo of blood and gore not ten feet away, clutching some figure in a lab coat to its chest, head bowed and face obscured by a tangled mess of dark hair. The sound grows more frantic as tendons snap and bones crunch underneath the thing's mandibles. 

Atlas doesn't move a muscle as he takes in the scene. 

Nightfall gnaws at the scientist's throat, most of the ligaments and connective tissue already torn to shreds. Blood stains its face and clothes and seeps into every crack in the tile flooring. It takes several seconds for Atlas to register that it’s not just tearing out chunks of flesh but eating them, swallowing them whole before ducking down to rip another piece free. 

Finally, the head detaches and hits the floor with a quiet thud, rolling onto its side, glassy eyes reflecting the occasional spark from the lights overhead. Just when Nightfall bends down to start digging into the scientist's chest, however, Atlas takes a step forward and glass crunches underfoot. His body hums with latent energy—he has one shot at making this work.

Nightfall pauses immediately, takes a moment to lick the excess gore from its claws, and gets to its feet without bothering to wipe the mess of blood and flesh from its face. Instead it just turns to face him, their eyes locking, its pupils narrowing to slits despite the dim lighting. There’s no way to deny the slow, feral smile that splits its face in two as recognition settles in. 

“Hey there, Atlas. Long time no see.”

[ickmick]

Inktober days 6-10 <3

so... I said that doc drawing would be in this one, but it's not! I totally forgot... but it'll be in next week's post LOL

everything is under the cut since this'll be a long post! enjoy, and happy spooky month!

oh, and heres last weeks post!

I only list the prompts I used that day, here's the key for acronyms n such;

wh = welcome home

hc = hermitcraft (I have 2!)

ink = official inktober

gore = goretober

(actual gore will be triggerwarned! so far none has any blood or violence!)

Day 6

hc: moon

this is 100 percent another self indulgent jump! my first full attempt at drawing pearl! I love her! Ive done some doodles for the traffic series before, but thats about it. I didn't finish that pose here... but maybe after october!

Day 7 (VAUGE GORE WARNING)

hc: explosion

gore: gutspill

this was a very low spoons day! I think the little cat (me!) explosion is funny though. for some reason I can't get a great picture for this one, but erm... I tried lol

I also didnt really draw anything actually all so gorey, but the sketch implications are there, so I put the warning still!

Day 8

hc: outfit swap

I was also going to include the group/team prompt, but alas, my spoons! dear mumbo did not get a spot on this day... I also kept the features vauge because I just wanted to have fun with the clothes fit XD

(can you see the buttercup flowers? those aren't swapped, haha... I love the buttercups !! )

Day 9

hc: first hermit watched / food (?)

gore: posion (sorta of!)

Ive watched Grian from the Olden™ build tutorial/battle era and rps with Sam and Taurtis! he holds an important role in my childhood/creative life, and has continued to inpire me :D

also, it's very funny to me that I drew the silly bit, and then the next day watched his deck out wk 3 video only to cackle as he says the line! "Grian will remember that" funny timing...

Day 10

hc: fav hermit friendship / fav group/duo

life: insanity (uh oh)

the buttercups!! mumbo is so out of place here, but I was first just doing some good old desertduo, before remembering the tall spoon was already left out two days before! I couldn't possibly do it again, so I drew a happy buttercup Mumbo <3

is he a vampire? a gargoyle, perhaps? some other creature? who knows! not me, that's for sure! but I do know he has little fangs and slightly pointed ears!

(I-dont-love-that-thats-the-last-one-but-its-fine-lmao)

I Talked so unbelievably much this time! oops! :3

as I said last week, I'll be coming back at the end of october to pick doodles/sketches to finish/polish! so let me know if theres one youd like to see me come back to!

now to return to my foresty cave until next Sunday! /j

week three, week fours, week 5.1s, and the last post (5.2)!

[deadpuppetboi]

Goretober Day 15: Medical

Willow hated going to the doctor.

Even before their ‘revelation’, the doctor’s office was one of the most anxiety-inducing places any child would be in.

They'd recall the trip over, the terror of looking over the familiar building, being taken into the dreary waiting room with toys so old they may as well break down, and the misery of waiting for hours on end.

Their name would be called and their mom would drag them over to the designated room. A room with white walls with plastic images of cartoon characters all around. As if to calm them another child next door would cry out as they were given their shots, making Willow shiver before finally getting their appointment.

From this, they’d hide behind their mother’s legs and cry as the doctor called them over to check their heartbeat. Then the dreadful entrance of the nurse who, with sadness in her eyes, would get the shots ready. The lollipop was the only thing that kept Willow going at the end, tears in their eyes as they went back home with two bandages on their arm.

This foundation was no different, though, Willow would argue that it was worse.

Since day one, Willow went through a particular routine, due to the influence of their anomaly. Something that, frustratingly, had no rhyme or reason to it other than doing its job. A job that Willow would have preferred to stop the very moment they discovered it but they didn't necessarily have a say in it.

The testing process was erratic, not more so cruel but informative as many men and women in lab coats examined them head to toe.

Blood samples, skin samples, and even hair samples were taken to be examined thoroughly while Willow had to wait around for the results. And while waiting for said results they would be asked various questions about their ability or even their personal life. Willow wouldn't have a problem with it if it wasn't for the fact that they had to confess with even the most private of memories they’d rather leave behind for good.

And, while it was painful to remember those memories, it felt sorta nice to have to talk to someone professional on the matter.

And that was the routine of their new life, whether they liked it or not. Eat, sleep, repeat with the occasional therapy session and testing here and there. And while Willow appreciated getting the help they needed to better understand their ability they soon grew bored of the constant repetition of their mundane but different life.

I mean, sure, being a part of a secret foundation built to secure and contain anomalies of various natures to protect the unsuspecting public was pretty cool. That, they had to admit, was fun to realize that there was more than meets the eye, at the very least, some of those conspiracy nuts would blow up to know that their theories were right.

But what more could Willow ask for than to be set free?

Willow hadn't expected to make as many escape attempts as they’d done since they had gotten into this place. Sure, they risked getting their privileges revoked (which they did) but they had some idea of what to do and where to go. They had a better grasp of the place as a whole and soon enough they’ll be able to see and feel the rays of the sun or even the moon.

So when the rare opportunity of a security breach happened, Willow went out of their way to leave their containment. They stole the proper cards, turned to the exact directions needed, and got themselves even closer to the exit.

They had reached the elevator, quickly getting inside as they pressed a specific button. The elevator doors closed and moved along, the teenager putting away their cards before the doors came open. They passed through, eyes sharp as they checked to see if there were any lab coats or guards anywhere in sight.

Confidence managed to build within the teenager’s chest as they ran off, a smile playing on their face as they passed by another door. They had swiped a card to bypass another door, neverending how new the path was before they ran through. They had barely made it a few inches through before their foot caught onto something and they fell over in a heap.

Willow felt their teeth clatter, and their body suddenly hit with the shock of the hard metal ground below. They groaned as they turned over, frustrated over the sudden change of pace, foot raised to kick at whatever had stopped them before they looked at it.

A body lay before the teenager, the gear was apparent, the helmet broken as dead eyes stared right back at them.

“Fuck!”

Willow crawled back, eyes wide as his eyes caught onto the wounds that littered across it. Chest burst open and vacant as the only viable skin able to be seen as rotten and pale. It was as if the body had been sucked dry, the only variation of their lives represented by the clothes that they wore.

Willow turned their head over and saw that the room had been filled with similar corpses. Lab coats, guards, and D-class of all kinds were laid about, chests carved out and left vacant with various amounts of rot settling between them. The smell was indescribable and as much as Willow didn't want to admit it, they felt themselves get sick by a single whiff.

Willow covered their mouth as they made a move to get up before a bony hand grabbed at their ankle.

The teenager instinctively kicked at the hand, turning their head to see that the body they had tripped over had held on. Its free hand moved over, to grab at Willow’s leg, and dug its gloved hands into their skin. Willow screamed, continuing to kick the corpse before their other ankle had been caught as well. Another corpse, one wearing a lab coat, had held on and began to climb up the teenager’s leg, long nails digging through their clothes and into their skin.

Before Willow knew it, they were surrounded by these reanimated corpses, bony and broken hands reaching over and grabbing at each part of the teen’s body. They pulled them down, their grips getting tighter as Willow continued to struggle. No matter what they did, they were trapped, being held down as their eyes roamed from one corner to the next to ignore their impending doom.

What they hadn't expected to happen was to see a particular figure appear from the shadows, eyes shining within the dark.

“I've heard stories about your existence,” a rich voice echoed from within the figure, their form coming into sight as Willow felt cold hands hold their head up.

“Had I expected your presence, I would have had us meet under better circumstances. Please, forgive the mess, my work creates such disarray I’m afraid I cannot fix it.”

The figure was dressed in dark robes, flowing from top to bottom, swaying slightly from each step they took. What caught Willow off the most was their face or rather lack thereof, a mask resembling a bird’s beak stared right back at the teenager as they froze.

They had known this particular figure, having to read his files while they had run out of their containment many times before.

‘Scp-049: The Plague Doctor’

“When I overheard a child capable of regenerative properties, I had thought nothing more of it. Simply another poor soul to be kept in between the walls of this very foundation.”

Scp-049 had come close, watching as the people he had cured held the teenager down, restricting any moment.

“But then it dawned on me, a theory if you must, had this child been affected by The Pestilence? The dreadful curse could affect all living things and create such panic, such pain, such agony that words could not be expressed properly to be stated. Could a child, capable of regenerating from the smallest and the largest wound inflicted by hand, that of man or by monster?”

Willow stared at the doctor, watching carefully as he bent down next to them, carefully taking out a folder made of leather. Laying it out on the ground, Willow felt their heart sink as they saw the tools from within. Each sharper and longer than the last, the teenager moved to the side, only to be brought back down by the corpses.

“Would it be possible that The Pestilence would be absent? Would it cease to exist or bloom from within?”

“I don't have it,” Willow screamed, feeling the corpses reaching over and ripping their shirt apart to reveal their shaking chest.

“I don't, I swear I don't, I-I t-took all my shots! I don't need anything-I-uh-”

The teenager watched as the doctor picked apart the medical tools before him, never minding their cries. They held onto a scalpel, quick to clean the dried blood onto their robes as Willow started to feel the cold burst from their chest and throughout their body.

“Ah, that I know well,” the doctor replied as they continued to clean their equipment, “But that doesn't change the fact that The Pestilence may lay dormant within you.”

White eyes looked upon Willow’s dark ones.

“I can sense The Pestilence within you, right now, it festers within your body like a parasite. Wiggling from one corner to the other to avoid its end and knowing how your body is capable of such great things, it may have missed it altogether.”

“It didn't,” Willow screeched at the doctor, still struggling, “I haven't gotten sick in a long ass time! I'm fine! I'm not sick! I don't have whatever you said! I don't! I fucking swear! My body would have gotten rid of it years ago, I'm sure, I swear!”

“I believe, by the end of this night, we may get the answers we’ve been waiting for. For me, the destined cure for all those affected by The Pestilence and for you, to finally be rid of The Pestilence once and for all.”

The plague doctor got himself closer to the teenager, the scalpel in his hand shining by the limited light from afar.

“No, wait, please don't! Don’t! STOP!”

“Now, please hold still, this will hurt,” the ‘doctor’ brought the scalpel down on Willow’s bare chest and began to drag it down. He ignored Willow’s deafening screams as they dug deeper, eyes catching how the skin managed to heal from the sudden cut.

“Together, we will find the cure for The Pestilence.”

[cybers-multiverse-mansion]

Goretober day 25 ; Body horror

Tw : Eyes, paranoia, self harm? Sorta, eye trauma.

One, Two.

Two eyes, that's a normal amount for anyone, no person should have more than two.

- BZZTT BZZTT BZZTT -

The sound of a phone buzzing against a hard wood side table woke him up quickly, an annoyed sigh escaping his lips.

"Another day, another slay." The brunette would say, getting up and grabbing a dress from his closet. He wore a fluffy pink and white dress, the skirt of it was somewhat round, kind of looked like a muffin top. The sleeves were similar to the skirt.

Dizzy rushed down the stairs, grabbing the bagged toasted peanut butter and jelly sandwich his mother made him. He ran to school.

When he entered the school, he tossed the now empty bag into a trashcan and headed to his first class.

He went through his day, doing all the normal things he did during a school day.

It was going normal until he went to the bathroom. He glanced down at his hands as he washed them, noticing something at the top of his left hand.

It stared at him, was that an eye? That was strange. This must be a hallucination right? He shrugged it off as much, simply putting on white gloves that he took out of the small pockets of his dress.

The bell rang for lunch, Dizzy had gathered his things and went to the cafeteria.

Four, Five.

Dizzy sat down with his lunch tray, eating quietly. He glanced at his arms, noticing at least three of those eyes from earlier. They stared at him, it was kind of uncomfortable.

He ignored it, just hallucinations.. Dizzy continued eating, the feeling of the eyes on him made him kind of uncomfortable.

Dizzy finished lunch and tossed his tray in the trash, it was foam so it wasn't re-usable. He walked to his next class when the bell rang for it.

Six. Seven.

He sat down in his seat, ignoring how paranoid he felt. There were more, he could feel them. More, there were more. They stared at him, they stared at him and it was so uncomfortable.

Eight, Nine, Ten.

More time passed, eventually the end of the day came. Dizzy was hiding in the bathroom. His body was covered in eyes, and it was causing him to panic.

He was covered in a black substance that held the eyes, little bits of his skin poked out from under the substance. You could see half of Dizzy's face.

"Eyes, eyes ahahaha- eyes everywhere.."

[ahkaraii]

[ff15] for the price of an arm (3666 words)

(spiritual sequel to my fancomic here, cw: gore)

"My, my," said the dismissive voice that still haunted Gladio's dreams, over a decade since. "Another one come for a rematch?"

"No." Gladio could not see Gilgamesh, but he knew the old bastard was watching him. "Not unless you don't give the Marshal back."

"The Marshal...?" A low, echoing laugh bounced around the bridge, and was then lost to the fog beyond. "Oh, the little lion? I'm afraid I bested him, long ago... He has belonged to me, since. And now, I have reclaimed him."

"Give him back," Gladio rumbled, voice like gravel. "Or I'll take all of your little arms, and then your fucking head."

The laugh echoed, fainter still, until there was a still sort of silence, broken only by a hair-raising whisper. "You may try, Shield of the Chosen King. But you shall not succeed."

"Show yourself," Gladio said, coldly. "And I shall prove you wrong, Corpse-Stealer."

It was only years spent fighting in the dark that allowed Gladio the reflexes to parry the blade that sought his head, and the years prior to that the ability to recognize the youth attached to the familiar body.

"Cor--?!"

It was undoubtedly the Marshal, but his once-lined face was now clear of scruff and weariness. His eyes were sharp, bright, and filled with a vicious determination Gladio had only ever seen aimed toward their enemies.

"Cor! Wait--"

The man did not appear to hear him, already in transition to perform a flawless gyaku-inazuma giri, and after Gladio hastily parried that opening onslaught, a tsuki thrust that nearly tore through Gladio's throat, managing only to avoid being skewered by leaping as far back as his legs would allow him, though of course Cor followed through flawlessly, relentlessly, and Gladio swiftly found himself on the defensive, gasping through disbelief and then raw, unhindered fury.

"You DARE!" Gladio howled. "You DARE steal his face!"

"His face belongs to me," tittered that ancient, odious voice, bouncing off the walls to the beat of Cor's Kotetsu against Gladio's Genji blade. "All of him does. And you shall not take him from me, unless, of course...you best me."

Gladiolus had bested the Blademaster once, and he could do it again. But it was quite a different story to be fighting against the puppet-corpse of his teacher, his friend. "Cor, don't do this," Gladio spared the breath to say. "Cor, don't make me do this!"

Cor did not appear to hear him, and through sinking dismay and true grief, Gladio knew Cor would never hear him, for Cor was likely already dead. Cor Leonis had said his goodbye, and everyone had respected it-- even Gladio had respected it, in the end. But he'd come down here to reclaim Cor's body and bring it back to Lucis. Bring it back home. He'd meant to bury the Marshal next to King Regis, as Gladio would want someone to bury him next to Noct, when his time came.

He'd envisioned having to fight the Blademaster for it, but he had never imagined he'd have to ruin Cor's corpse to win it back.

"You are dishonourable--" Gladio screamed. "You are despicable--"

"I am, at that," the voice may have whispered, but Gladio was fully concentrated on Cor's blade, the whistle of it before it nearly took out his legs; the metallic vibration of it when it parried his own massive katana; the reach of it, always further than one might expect.

Cor did not fight silently, for all that he did not speak a word. He grunted and gasped and growled, and it felt awfully like he lived again, for it was his selfsame voice, the voice Gladio had grown up listening to and learning from, fighting with and fighting for. It was both a gift and a gutwound, to hear it again, in the flesh.

It could have been a shorter fight-- intense, furious, but inevitably lethal-- had Gladio not kept missing opportunities to cleave the man in two. He could not bear it. A part of him longed to prolong this, if only to keep the fiction going. That Cor still lived, that Cor could still come back alive.

Unfortunately, the longer Gladio drew it out, the more tired he became. And Cor, in the undeathly grasp of Gilgamesh, did not.

He became faster, and faster, and impossibly faster, until Gladio knew that if he did not end this soon, if he did not end this now, then it was Gladio that would be cleaved into pieces, and Cor-- who had not once batted an eye at carnage, who had not once looked upon a fallen enemy with regret-- Cor would simply end him without giving a shit, and then Gladio would be dead, and all this would be for naught at all.

Cor Leonis was dead, Gladio told himself through glassy eyes and a swiftly clogging nose, and this? This was just a cruel echo. It would be kinder to silence it, and let it rest a memory.

So, without further hesitation, Gladio closed himself off, and with one sure thrust, impaled Cor's body with his very own Genji blade, twisting it to ensure he'd severed that great man's spine and abdominal aorta, then up to cleave through three ribs and into his lungs and hopefully his heart, so his end would be swift.

So his end would be sure.

But of-fucking-course the Immortal refused to die easy. Cor made a truly awful noise, choking on his own blood, body twitching with the aftershocks of an immense blow, still struggling, still attempting to swing his sword, which Gladio barely stopped with his other hand.

"Damn it," Gladio choked, through messy tears. "It's okay, Cor. Let go."

The man screamed wetly, gagging, jerking futilely against Gladio's hold. He was half-collapsed on Gladio already, legs limp and lifeless. But even still he refused to die, let alone let go of his sword, which came to rest on Gladio's shoulder, sharp side trying in vain to dig toward his neck, even now, when it was past the realm of unlikely into the sad reality of the impossible.

"It's all right," Gladio whispered. "Shh. Shhh. You can rest now."

Cor shuddered, twitched, and let out a rasping exhale, that seemed to last an age. Blood kept bubbling up his mouth, out his nose, and this close Gladio could see the burst blood vessels in his eyes, making the blue of them all the brighter, even as that inimitable gaze clouded, unfocused, and seemed to still half-lidded, far away.

His sword finally slipped out of his grasp, and clattered unceremoniously to the ground.

For a long while Gladio couldn't speak through his tears. The hand holding the Genji blade was soaked with Cor's blood, with his spilled flesh, and Gladio couldn't find the will to remove it, to further damage Cor's body with it. He pulled Cor close instead, tucking his old friend's face into his chest, shuddering through his grief and processing his rage.

"I'll kill you for this," Gladio promised wetly. "I will fucking desecrate you for this."

"You may try," the Blademaster said, finally showing himself at the other end of the bridge, both armless and unarmed. "I may even welcome it."

Gladio ran a gentle hand through Cor's bloodied hair, and impulsively kissed the top of it, like he remembered Cor doing, once, when he'd been six or seven and he'd asked Uncle Cor for a bedtime story, and he'd eagerly listened to the Marshal stumble through what was more a mission report than a proper fairytale, talking about some young punk going down to Hell to fight some big tough guy with a weird accent, to prove himself worthy of his King. And Gladio, who even at that age feared being unworthy above all else, had anxiously asked And he did, didn't he, Uncle Cor? And Cor had quirked that small, sad, private smile that he showed only to Gladio and Gladio's dad and their King, and then kissed the top of his head and said Sure, champ, 'course he did.

'Course he did.

Gladio gently laid Cor's body on the ground, dislodging the Genji blade from his sternum as carefully as he could. It was impossible to pull out the two-meter long blade elegantly, or even respectfully, not without the King's magic to simply dispel it as he would have preferred, but Gladio did his utmost to do it without messing Cor up more than he had to. He ached to throw the damn sword away and simply grab Cor's corpse and run with it, abscond with it, away from this traitor's cesspit of a bridge and finally lay it to rest where it deserved to be-- but another louder, righteous, and infinitely angrier part of him needed to take the Genji blade-- originally Cor's blade, and now forever the blade that had finally ended him-- and skewer that dishonourable, hateful, and pathetic wraith of a creature at the end of that bridge. If not for Cor's sake, then Gladio's own; for the Blademaster was, if legend served, ancestor to his own blood, traitor to his own line, and therefore Gladio was the last of that longwinded legacy, the last Shield, and if it was anyone's duty to end this farce of a trial, then was is his own.

Gladiolus Amiticia stood tall, and readied his bloodied blade with the grim resolve of a man ready to face his death and walk out alive.

Gilgamesh didn't say a word. He'd said all he needed to, over two thousand years of projected self-loathing, through cruel whispers and claimed corpses shambling in the dark, patiently waiting for his own end, waiting for just this moment.

The tension between the two warriors rose like a fetid odor, permeating a grave. Only one of them would leave here alive, and increasingly it seemed it would be Gladio, for Gilgamesh had made no move to summon either arms or weapons.

"Take out your sword already, you lowly piece of shit," Gladio demanded, coldly. "Or die without one."

Gilgamesh tilted his head slowly, gesturing towards Cor's corpse, cooling before him. "You've already taken it," he said, simply.

Rage enveloped Gladio. He'd killed defenseless men before, but only in the heat of battle; to kill a traitorous kin-killer like this would bring him no satisfaction. Hell, it might even bring him shame, and that pissed him right the fuck off. That even now, filled with so much grief and fury and resolve, he could still lose against this wretched ghost, because winning against a thing determined to die without a fight was no victory at all.

"Arm yourself, Blademaster!" Gladio roared, swinging the massive Genji blade, splattering drops of Cor's lifeblood upon the bridge.

"I have none left," the ghost said, mildly, shrugging his great shoulders bereft of limbs. "Claim my head, Gladiolus Amiticia. It is yours."

"You vile, repulsive--" Gladio snarled, incandescent with rage. "You dishonour my name, your name, the name of the man who you just made me kill-- the lives of my father, my father's father, and all the kings the Amiticia have served--"

"Yes," the Blademaster interrupted calmly, "That's right."

"Pathetic," Gladio spat. "You're pathetic. You are less than a man. I renounce you as Shield of the Founder King. I renounce your trial as anything more than worthless, wretched--"

"That is your right," the Blademaster agreed, placidly.

Gladio screamed, and in his mind, he rushed him. Genji blade met Genji armour and parted it like butter, revealed the putrid insides of a man long since dead; another swing beheaded the man and spilled his brain across the bridge; his red-soled boots stomped that skull to shards, mercilessly, pounding it into the ground, into less than dirt, into less than a memory; in his mind, his heart thoroughly disowned that heartless cur to oblivion.

In reality, Gladio only screamed. And then, heaving like a beast, he gathered up his spite and spat on the ground. "If you will not fight," the Last of the Amiticia swore, "then you will rot here, forevermore."

Gilgamesh's glowing eyes tracked him, quietly, then he bent his head forward, bent his whole body forward, into a bow. "Yes, Amiticia," that dry, ancient, patiently undying voice said, "I know."

Gladio could bear this no longer. He turned, blade in hand, seeking Cor's corpse--

Only to find Cor struggling to his knees.

"Cor?!" Gladio choked, and for a moment his grief and rage split him, for he could not kill Cor a second time, a second time would surely end him--

"Clarus...?" Cor's eyes were still bloodshot but the blue shone through, electric, and violently alive; his face was young, bereft of age lines and beard; he looked like he was half Gladio's age instead of double. "What...?"

"Cor!" Gladio fell to his knees. "You're alive!"

"You're not Clarus," Boy-Cor said, voice oddly-pitched. "Who're you?"

"I'm his son," Gladio said, through tears. "Fuck. God damn it. You're alive, Cor." He impulsively gathered Cor up in his arms, and the kid-- God! Cor was at most a fucking teenager!-- squirmed, uncomfortable, looking confused as all hell.

"As if I'd die in a place like this," Cor said, gruffly, and then he jerked up, "Wait, son?! Y'mean, you're his da?" He pushed Gladio away, squinting up at him suspiciously. "No fuckin' way... you ain't Marshal Amiticia. He's bald, and you got more hair than a goddamn Ronin!"

Gladio couldn't help but laugh, wetly-- even through his confused joy and skewered grief, hearing Cor speak like a feral brat was something else.

"...unless that's a wig? Uh, sir? Shit."

But Gods above, what if this was an illusion? Gladio's whole self shuttered at the thought. He wouldn't put it past that old ghost. He was vile enough for it, Gladio now knew.

"If this is a lie," Gladio murmured, tracing Cor's wary face with his eyes, thinking this might be the last time, "then I swear on my life, I will cut off your legs and piss on your mask, Blademaster."

Cor's eyes widened, narrowed, and shuttered in quick succession. "Well, that's gross," he said, tense-like, eyes skittering over to the Genji blade, thrown aside in Gladio's disbelief-- then he stared at something beyond Gladio's shoulder. "Wait, did'you actually kill him?!"

Gladio automatically followed Cor's line of sight, thinking he'd see the Blademaster as he had been seconds before-- but the fucker was no longer standing there, head bowed or otherwise. He'd vanished.

"Shit," Gladio swore, lunged for his sword-- immediately realized Cor had taken the Genji blade with him, and turned to snatch the Kotetsu instead-- and was on his feet an instant later, ready for a fight. "God damn it--"

"Ramuh's balls--" Cor piped up. "You fuckin' did!"

Cor had fearlessly loped on over to where the Blademaster had once stood, all two meters of the Genji blade casually resting on his shoulders like it belonged there, instead of the Kotetsu he'd carried by his side for forty years-- and then he was bending down, was the sword too heavy?-- no, Gladio realized abruptly, Cor was bending down to grab a familiar silver thing.

"This is his mask, ain't it? Goddamn..." Cor looked very small at the end of that immense bridge. "You beat me to it, huh."

"...I don't think he can die," Gladio said, uneasily. "He's probably hiding somewhere." He resisted the urge to spit and say 'like cowardly fucker', and instead adjusted his hold on Kotetsu, its smaller size unfamiliar to his hands.

"Maybe," Cor said, but he didn't sound convinced. "Shit...if only I'd been a little faster, I could've gotten him first." He looked down at the mask like it had impaled him, like it had skewed him straight through and had watched him drown in his own blood.

Gladio knew that look, because that's the same look Cor had had, as he'd died in Gladio's arms.

Gladio felt the unreality of the situation finally descending upon him. "Hey, kid," he said, low and slow. "What's the last thing you remember?"

"I was running away from this," Cor said quietly, down at the mask in his hands. Then he squinted up at Gladio. "Sure don't remember you, though. Sir. Did you come down for me 'cause Clarus said somethin'?" His lower lip stiffened, and there was an unmistakable wet sheen to his eyes. "I had it handled, sir."

Gladio's heart was hurting something awful. This wasn't the Marshal he remembered. That inimitable man-- the Cor Leonis that had indulged Gladio's love of fairytales, who had kissed his brow goodnight, who had taught him how to fight, whose last words to him had been 'Y'know, Gladio, I think I've finally earned myself a goddamn vacation'-- that immense, amazing, larger than life man was dead.

So, what was this mockery before him? The soul Gilgamesh had defeated and claimed, forty some years ago, now returned to its old body?

"I know it was disrespectful, sir--" Cor said, stiffly, misinterpreting Gladio's expression. "I know this Trial is only for Shields of the Amiticia line, but-- I can do it, sir, I was doing just fine--"

"All of this is a farce," Gladio said, hollowly.

"No, I can prove myself worthy!" Cor said loudly, desperately, and Gladio was reminded of himself, thinking that being a worthwhile Shield to his King was all he'd ever wanted or would ever want, that fighting some big tough guy could grant him that and more. "I can do it--! I'll try again, I'll beat him, I'll prove it--"

Gladio felt something heavy press against his chest. If this was Gilgamesh's last fuck you to his descendants, or, worse, if it was his idea of a fucking consolation prize--

"Let me try again," Cor said, firmly, holding the mask out like Gladio could summon the Blademaster with it. "I'll show you, sir. I'll show you I can do it."

Gladio's frustration was hardly this kid's fault. Well, it was only Cor's fault insomuch as he'd jaunted on down here as a brat, gotten his ass kicked and his soul snatched, then come back down for seconds when he was too old to care if he lived or died. But it wasn't this kid's fault, anymore than it was Noct's fault he'd gotten saddled with a prophecy that wanted him dead and he'd chosen to fight it for as long as he could, before finally succumbing to it, back straight and head held high.

Gladio had hopefully outgrown his knee jerk reaction of yelling at dumb kids for making dumbass decisions, and he liked to think he'd soon ease into the calm melancholy of a man used to outliving those he loved. Like Cor himself had. The Cor of his memories, now forever laid to rest.

And yet Cor-the-kid was still staring up at him, refusing to cry, looking as stiff and proud and fierce as ever, waiting for him--for Gladio, of all people-- to denounce him.

So he chose not to.

"You did do it," Gladio said, gently. "Cor, you completed the trial, and then some. You are more than worthy to be a King's Shield, or Sword, or soldier--whatever you wanna be."

"What I want is a rematch," Cor insisted, looking more and more like he was gonna fight Gladio for it.

"Maybe later," Gladio said. Maybe never, he thought. Gods. He didn't know if Cor could even leave Taelpar Craig, or if his body would collapse like the walking corpse it should be, without Gilgamesh's magic holding it together.

"Sir," Cor said, edging on the line of begging. "I can't go back empty handed like this. I'd rather die than live with the shame of it."

"Take the mask, then," Gladio said, with an exhausted finality in his voice. "It's there because you defeated him, in your own way."

"...you ain't gonna piss on it? Sir?" Cor said, suspiciously, holding it close like he was protecting it.

If you die as we leave this place, I sure fucking will, Gladio thought, but said aloud, "I'd gotta drink some water, first. You thirsty?"

"What the fuck, sir," Cor said as respectfully as he could, which, at this time, was not much.

"I'm joking," Gladio said, though he really wasn't. "I'm not about making some instant ramen, though. After a meal--" Cor's last, perhaps, "--then I'm leaving here, for good. You comin', or you stayin'? Your choice, Leonis."

He'd come down here for Cor's body, but if Cor truly wanted to stay here, forever fighting a disgraced demigod whose hobby was making undying warriors out of decent men-- if that was truly his idea of a good afterlife, then, hell, Gladio wasn't going to force him. He respected Cor that much, even if this wannabe Valhalla was, in his personal opinion, as disrespectful as it could get.

Cor's rumbling stomach interrupted his thoughts. The kid turned a little red, and it broke the spell of Gladio's melancholy some, to see that. "Hungry, huh?"

"I could eat," Cor admitted, with a stiff little shrug. "What kinda flavour y'got, sir?"

Even though it was far more difficult to travel light enough to fight on the go without the magic of the Armiger, Gladio still made sure to carry at least one of his favourite meals with him in a backpack. For this journey, he'd packed exactly two Cup Noodles: one for him, and one for Cor's memory. He'd left it at the fireplace just outside this final room, alongside the waterproof tarp he'd brought to put Cor's body in-- though now, Gods willing and Gilgamesh be damned, Cor might just walk out on his own.

"Beef," Gladio said, and was gratified by Cor perking up, as he hoped he would. "You okay with that?"

"Yes, sir," Cor said, and quietly admitted, "It's, um. That's my favourite."

"Well, ain't that something," Gladio said, instead of saying, I know. "You comin', then?"

"Yes, sir," Cor said, and even if this was Gilgamesh's last laugh, or his last apology, then Gladio would take it, because Cor was worth it, Cor had earned it.

[killemwithkawaii]

Goretober 2022 Day 8: Hookie

Hey, sorry for posting this so late everybody. Mitch and I were watching seasonally-appropriate movies together all night. He brought up making pancakes for dinner, and there was no way I was saying no to cooking them with him again. We made way more than we could possibly eat, popped in another movie, and fed each other bites while we cuddled up under some soft blankets. It was a really nice, relaxing, normal day off together that felt totally bizarre and intensely familiar all at once.

Mitch started laughing at one point. He said it felt like we were playing hookie together.

"I know we weren't actually supposed to go in today, but it sorta feels like we're doing something bad...~"

"Heh, oh yeah, that's us- a couple of hoodlums committing unspeakable crimes...~"

I laughed along with him, because I'm not sure how to tell him that this was the one timeline I'd found where that wasn't true about either of us.

Or, at least, it wasn't true about either of us, until now.

He finished this doodle of us a few minutes ago. Now, we're heading to bed together, and if I'm still here in the morning, we plan on sleeping in together on purpose this time.

[flowerpetalprincess]

H I M; Goretober Day 28- Yandere

"He doesn't know it yet, how much love she has for him, how far she'd go for him.How many lives she'd take for HIM."

I sorta knew I'd be drawing Jade for this from the start, due to an rp I had a long time ago with my friend Elyse Makenna. While she was meant to be human, I got excited and drew the ears before realising (And I really love elf years lol.)

While it's not my best work, it shows what I was going for, and I'll hopefully do better another time (Perhaps in one of my redraw series episodes?)

Do not steal, repost, or alter in any way

[idoodle2draw-marquer]

DENSE BULLET

i've been wanting to do this one since this month started, better late than never i suppose! another experimental goretober icon, which i'm pretty darn happy with- i wasn't sure how well his blood would look but i was able to manage it sorta alright. definitely love making the blood behave abnormally, i've been told this looks like he's underwater- pretty neat~ much less contrast than the initial plan but i like it smooth for my bastard boye the blade was a last minute addition, needed more macabre!! only my own personal switch blade would be adequate enough for this

[thestalkerbunny]

Goretober Day 25: Killer

The Happy Bunny Killer

(readmore for fun backstory to why I don’t really draw this guy anymore)

So like. Fun FACT? This is actually one of my early middleschool characters. You know, the era of middleschool where everyone sorta tries to out edge each other before they find really the style of art they really like. And I actually got in trouble because I lost my sketchbook and one of the comics with him had him holding someone at gun point. But I'm awful at drawing guns so I just put a square in the hand and a note that read 'put gun here later' and some teacher turned my sketch book to the guidence counciler's office and they literally sat me down and asked me if i was 'Okay'. I probably would have gotten suspended if I did that nowadays. (another thing of concern was apparently my concept for something called 'Mimzy in Hell' which was going to be a modern tale of Dante's Inferno.') After that, I literally wrote in all my sketch books 'These are works of fiction and no way related into the artist's personal opinions or influences, please return to XXX' and I still do that to this day. But back to the subject; this guy's name was Happy and he was placed in an asylum (which was haunted) after he killed a man by shoving him into busy traffic. And there were more characters and stuff and he sorta was a yandere before I even knew what 'Yandere' even was. But after the whole 'guidence counciler' incident and the fact I did actual research on mental health and took a class or two on it, I sorta lost interest in him and the story around him. I might bring him back as just......nasty man. For nasty man reasons.

[cosmicatart]

Goretober Day 10 - Free by Sarcasm-theSickness

Day 10 is a free space, so I used it as a "weekly roundup" sorta thing of the previous 9 days (except day 3 cuz I haven't worked further on the robot's design yet). The quote is from that Simpsons meme where Marge is sitting in the front seat of the car with Bart and Lisa in the back and she says "Kids, could you lighten up a little?" It’s honestly a huge shock to me that I’ve gone up until now without drawing Nymin for any of the prompts, so I thought it’d be funny to show xem just quietly reading a magazine while all this friggin chaos is happening around xem. Decided to discuss these particular characters’ relationships with one another on my Patreon today:  https://www.patreon.com/posts/14811522

[flowerpetalprincess]

H I M; Goretober Day 28- Yandere

"He doesn't know it yet, how much love she has for him, how far she'd go for him.How many lives she'd take for HIM."

I sorta knew I'd be drawing Jade for this from the start, due to an rp I had a long time ago with my friend Elyse Makenna. While she was meant to be human, I got excited and drew the ears before realising (And I really love elf years lol.)

While it's not my best work, it shows what I was going for, and I'll hopefully do better another time (Perhaps in one of my redraw series episodes?)

(Feel free to leave a like, comment, or if you want more speedpaints, subscribe!)