#anyways. sorry for all the tags. kiss kiss

[justanothermemestrider]

Nothing Ever Stays Dead - Part 2

Gadriel x Childhood Friend OC

Part two baby let's goooooooooo

Okay first up, I wanna thank every single person who has liked, reblogged, commented on and read part one (if you didn't catch it, you can read it here :)) . I love and appreciate every single one of you. Your support, comments and tags are literally food for my soul. So thank you ^^

Second, this fic makes reference to @beckyninja 's Titus x reader fic series. Specifically, it references Titus' relationship with the reader character "little healer." I really wanted to reference them bc they were such a big inspiration for me and @beckyninja is such an awesome writer and creator. If you wanna know more, go check out their fics. They're superbly written, and as mentioned above, they are among the inspo for this series. So go read them! :D

Third, standard warnings and notes: this part is sfw, but has violence, angst and general 40kness. Also unedited so apologies for any spelling and grammar errors (I'm sure there are some lol)

As always, thank you for reading and please enjoy :)

Between the towering grid of criss-crossing spires, the night sky twinkled at Ellicent. It was only a sliver- if she held out her hand, she could cover it entirely with her palm. But for a girl whose life until how had been spent at the very bottom of the Underhive's deepest fissures, it was like looking through a planetary telescope.

Stars of every colour shone against the deep blue back drop. It might just be her imagination, but Ellicent could've sworn it they were winking at her. Like they knew how pretty they were, and were only too happy to show off of her.

A smile touched Ellicent's lips. For the first time in a long time, she felt truly content.

"I thought I might find you up here."

She turned in her seat. On her left, not far from where the chimney sat, a warm, round face framed with silver hair appeared over the edge of the roof. Ellicent's smile broadened a little more. "You know me well," she said.

Climbing off the ladder and onto the roof, Gadriel carefully made his way over to her Although they were about the same age, were she was lithe like a cat, he built like an ox. Meant with every step he took, the iron sheet that made up the roof shook and rattled. He lowered himself down beside her, then followed her gaze upward.

"Pretty, right?" Ellicent said.

"Uh huh. If only there weren't so many hive spires in the way."

Smirking, Ellicent leaned into his shoulder. Gadriel lifted his arm to make room for her, then draped it around her. Ellicent had to resist the urge to sigh- after sitting outside in the cold for so long, the warmth of his body against hers was heavenly.

"If you join the Angels, you'll get to see all of it," she said.

"You mean when."

"Sorry. When."

Both of their tones are humourous, but underneath is an edge. An unspoken tension wedged between them, despite how close they are now.

"I thought you'd be too old now, anyway," Ellicent said. "Don't they only take young boys?"

"18 cycles is the official cut off," Gadriel said. "I've still got one more left to make it."

Eliicent nodded, but said nothing. Her silence, however, spoke for her.

Gadriel's arm around her tightened. Gently, he guided her head into the crook of his neck. "Ellie. I-"

"I know. It's the best way to get out of here. To get us out of here." She shook her head slightly. "But it's not the only way. And it's definitely the most dangerous."

"It's only dangerous for me," Gadriel said. "For you and Mum, it's the safest."

Ellicent swallowed the lump that was forming in the back of her throat. An old familiar grief rose up within her heart. With it, it brought pictures of her father.

"Ellie?" Gadriel asked. She felt the warm kiss of his forehead touching her crown. "Will you say something?"

Gazing up at him, Ellicent gave him a brief peck on the lips. "We've still got one cycle," she said. "We'll figure something else out by then."

"And if we don't?"

"We will," Ellicent said.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

It wasn't him.

Over and over, her head tells her the same thing. With every turn of her screwdriver. With every jolt of pain that shoots through her shoulder from her damaged cybernetic arm.

It wasn't him.

It wasn't him.

It wasn't him.

"But it was," Ellicent says aloud. "It was. He said my name. I heard his voice. It was him."

Why did he never come back, then?

Why did he leave you?

The screwdriver slips from her hand and clatters to the floor. Cursing, she stoops down to pick it up. "I... I don't know," she hisses at herself. "Maybe he- maybe he was too busy. Or thought I was already dead."

Or maybe he forgot about you.

Tears sting Ellicent's eyes. It's all she can do to keep herself from crying out loud.

"It wasn't him," she mutters. "It can't have been."

The snap of an opening door makes her look up.

"Ellicent! What the hell was that?"

Ellicent winces away from the voice. It grates her like a razor across her ear, spawns a knot of anxiety deep within her gut. "I'm sorry, sir," she says. "I-"

He punches her in the face. Hard enough to break the skin of her brow. Ellicent tumbles out of her chair, breaking her fall with her still-damaged cybernetic. The arm's metal hisses like a snake who's been stood on.

"How many Space Marines have you killed for me already, huh?"

Ellicent touches her finger to her brow. She stifles another wince.

"How many?!" Severus bellows.

Ellicent swallows bile and blood. "Ten," she murmurs.

"That's right. Ten." Grasping her by the pony tail, Severus hails her to her feet. His own bionic arm whines with the effort. "So tell me, " he spits. "Why the fuck was some trio of damned blue boy-scouts able to best you?"

Ellicent avoids his eye. He hates it when she looks at him. Doing so now would only earn her another punch. "I'm sorry," she says again, even meeker than before.

She can feel Severus' glare boring through her skull. Her scalp is screaming, but she bites her lip against the pain. Show no resistance. Only subservience. Even if you hate it, it is the only way to survive.

With a wordless snarl, Severus throws her to the ground. "Worthless wretch. I invest everything in building you, and you give me nothing in return."

Ellicent sneaks a glance up at him. Running his hand through his long, greasy hair, he wears an exhausted, frustrated scowl. "The Drukhari won't forgive us for this," he says, more to himself than to her. "They'll want to cut ties. Won't wanna risk having the Sons of Guilliman looking their way."

He carries on like this for several minutes. Completely ignoring Ellicent, as if she'd never been in the room in the first place. Ellicent pushes herself up to her knees, but doesn't risk trying to rise. Even without the threat of Severus' wrath, however, she doubts she could stand anyway. Her face aches from the punch, and her head is spinning.

It wasn't him, her mind tells her. Over and over again.

Her heart, however, is not so easily silenced.

But what if it was?

* * * * ** * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

"A Valkyrie is on it's way for Chairon," Titus reports. "Despite appearances, the Apothecary believes he will likely survive."

Gadriel looks up from his hands. For the last hour, he's done nothing but stare at them in silence. He looks past Titus to where their brother lies prone. When the gas charge had detonated, Chairon had caught a piece of debris to the side of the head. It had struck with enough force to sever his helm, break his skin and crack his skull. A sickening mixture of emotions broil within Gadriel at the sight of his brother like this. At the knowledge of who had done it to him.

"Promise me you'll come back."

"I promise."

"Sergeant?"

Gadriel starts. "Forgive me," he says. "That is- that is a relief. Thank the Emperor, indeed."

Titus' expressionless helm stares at Gadriel for several long moments. Gadriel has to stifle the urge to squirm. The lieutenant briefly looks around; after the attack, the fireteam had retreated into a nearby complex, smashing down the windows and taking cover within its walls. Since then, the area has been silent. The only evidence of there ever being a fireifght are the odd tangle of black smoke still spiralling in the air. Satisfied that they are still secure, Titus looks back at Gadriel.

Then, he removes his helm.

The seals around his throat hiss as Titus breaks them, lifting off the helmet before tucking it under his arm. His face is squarer than Gadriel's, with a firmer jaw and a blunt nose. His hair is cropped close to his skull and the pair of silver studs above his right brow indicating his century-long career as an Ultramarine- gleam in the low, polluted light. His is a fierce visage to look upon, there's not doubt about that. But despite that, when he looks at Gadriel now, the only thing fierce about him is the intensity of his worry.

"Forgive me for saying this, brother. But you appear to be distracted. Unsettled, even."

Gadriel's instinct is to lower his gaze. To try and brush the lieutenant off with a snide remark or flat out refusal. Indeed, if they had been having this conversation back on Kadaku, that might have been exactly what he would have done. But much has happened since then. Many things, both good and bad, have passed between him and Titus. As such, the lieutenant has become one of his closest friends.

If anyone might understand, it will be him.

Taking a breath, Gadriel sighs it out through his nose. Removing his own helmet, he sits upon a nearby ledge and sets it on his lap. "That woman," he starts. "I... I know her."

"You've encountered her before?"

Gadriel covers his blush with one hand, feigning the need to rub his nose. "That's one way of putting it."

Titus eyes him carefully. Despite his best efforts, Gadriel can feel himself wilting under the scrutinisation. Titus clasps his helmet to his hip, then walks up to Gadriel to sit beside him. He's leaning forwards elbows braced on his knees. Something about the posture gives Gadriel a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach.

"Is she a former ally?" Titus asks quietly.

Gadriel chews his cheek. Shakes his head.

"An enemy, then?"

"No," Gadriel says sharply. "No, she- she was the first one."

"An ally?"

"How much more?"

The word makes him wince. "Yes. But she was..." Throne, how do I even describe it? "She was more than that. A lot of more."

Gadriel bites his cheek. His tongue feels like ash in his mouth. "We were... together. Before I joined the Ultramarines."

Titus nods thoughtfully. "I see."

A beat of silence passed between them. Titus is the one to break it. "Tell me, how long have you served for?"

"As of this cycle? Fifty three years."

Tirus nods again. "That's a long time. Particularly in the eyes of a baseline."

The comment is innocent enough, and in no way untrue. Even so, Gadriel feels his hackles rise. "What are you saying? "

"She tried to kill us, Gadriel. She raised a weapon against the Emperor's Angels. And even if she hadn't, I know you saw the same as I: the particle beams, the necronian cybernetics. That alone is-"

"It's not as simple as that," Gadriel says. He looks down at his hands. "It can't be."

His hands become fists. For the first time this entire interaction, Gadriel looks Titus right in the eye. "I need to talk to her."

"Sergeant-"

"No, listen to me. Ellie would never do this. Never. Severus must be coercing her or have her enslaved."

"Gadriel-"

"She could've killed me back there, at the warehouse. She had her blade at my throat. But she didn't. When she heard me speak, she stopped. She recognised me, Titus. She said my damn name!"

"Gadriel, enough!"

Titus' voice snaps like a whip, cutting Gadriel off mid-breath. The corners of his eyes have hardened slightly, and though he still appear sympathetic, Gadriel can feel exasperation bubbling beneath it. "I understand your frustration, brother. If she were truly falsely accused, you know I would take your side. But we both saw her wielding alien technology. We both saw her bomb wound Chairon and her blade almost kill you." His voice softens. "Whoever she was to you does not change that. It can't."

Gadriel bites the inside of his cheek hard enough to make it bleed. The taste of his own blood is sharp on his tongue. Sharper still is the invisible blade scything away at his heart.

But what if it's all my fault? He wants to say. What if I was reason for whatever terrible thing that brought her here, and if I didn't remedy it, I could not bear to live with myself.

Gadriel says no such thing, however. If he did, all he would get from Titus is more stern sympathy.

That isn't to say that Gadriel remains silent, however. In fact, he's already got his next argument prepared, has for a while. He doesn't know if it will work, and the only thing he does knkw is that, initially at least, it will do nothing but outrage Titus. But Gadriel has no other ideas. He's desperate. And he running out of the time.

"What if it had been your little healer?"

Titus' entire body goes rigid. "What?"

Gadriel clenches his jaw. Both of his hearts pound as if he'd just stepped into a firefight. But he keeps talking. "She was accused of heresy, wasn't she? Her own people tried to kill her. But you saved her."

Titus' nostrils flare as he exhales sharply through his nose. "What relevance does that have here?"

"What relevance?" Gadriel demands. "It is the same thing!"

"My healer was falsely accused."

"You didn't know that when you saved her, though, did you?"

With a crash of ceramite on concrete, Titus is on his feet. "Speak your mind, Sergeant," he growls. "But I warn you; you are on thin ice."

Gadriel steadies his pulses with a slow, deep breath. Then, joining Titus on his feet, he meets the lieutenant's gaze. "If this was your healer," he says. "You would not hesitate in seeking her out. Even if she had attacked us- even if she'd succeeded in killing Chairon and I- you would go to her. You'd want to help her. Or, at the very least, try and talk to her. I know you would, and I know that you know it too, even if you won't admit it. So why won't you allow me to do the same?"

Titus' jaw feathers with tension. Gadriel can practically hear the storm raging behind his eyes. He imagines Titus can see something similar happening behind his own eyes, too. "You know the Codex would absolutely abhor such an action," the lieutenant says quietly.

"I do," Gadriel says. "But the codex is not always right. You taught me that."

For a long time, Titus says nothing. He just stares at Gadriel. Either searching for something within the sergeant's expression or mulling over his own thoughts. Gadriel's hearts roar in his ears. The cut he'd chewed into the side of his cheek has now become an open wound. But he doesn't dare interrupt the Titus' thoughts. Right now, the lieutenant is Gadriel's only hope. By extension, that makes him Ellie's only hope.

Finally, after what feels like a century, Titus opens his mouth. "You're right," he says. "Absolutely, you are right. And as your friend, I wish I could stand by you. But I am not merely your friend, Gadriel. I am also a servant of the Emperor, and I am also your commanding officer." He trails off, but Gadriel can hear what goes unspoken. It makes his throat close over, fills his stomach with rocks. "Titus," he whispers. "Please-"

"I'm sorry, Sergeant. But there is nothing I can do."

Gadriel opens his mouth to argue, but as the first curse word leaves his mouth, the bang of a firearm makes both Astartes turn. Gadriel scoops up his helmet and makes his way over to the window. Above the city skyline, piercing the dying daylight like a sword through armoured plating, a single, scarlet light rises into the sky.

"Is that a flare?" Titus says from Gadriel's side.

Gadriel swallows thickly. There's no way... No way she still has it.

"Yes," he replies.

"But there are no other Imperial forces here."

"It's not Imperial," Gadriel mutters.

Titus looks at the sergeant, confused. It doesn't take long, though, for the pieces to fall into place. "Gadriel-"

But Gadriel is already gone. Slamming his helmet back over his head, locking its objective marker onto the location of the flare, no other thought, feeling or concern in his mind.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Feel like I'm finally cooking now XD part 3 is about to be the scene that I dreamed up that made me wanna write this story in the first place so I am SO HYPED to write it :D

Thank you for reading and I hope you enjoyed <3

Taglist: @solspina @beckyninja @egrets-not-regrets @wolf-feathers12 @jaghatai-khock @lemon-russ @moodymisty @hatsubara-8chan @nereidof40k @yanagikou @fyxestroll @yurihasurunbara @lylakoi

[amoristt]

trust i seek, and i find in you | pt3

part 1 (x) . part 2 (x)

「 ✦ seong gi-hun / reader ✦ 」

tags: sfw // lots of death ment, angstttt bro, like so much, sad gi-hun </3, a/n: sorry for the super shorter chapter next one is the finale <3 ik im changing the events of the actual show but let me live i needed a bridge to the finale!!!!!!!!! ugh i so sad its almost done already

All the mattresses had disappeared. 

All but two. 

The dormitory feels impossibly large, now. The piggy bank dangles from the ceiling with banded paper threatening to spill over the edges, mounting at the brims, hanging fat and heavy. You refuse to look at it, so it laughs at you instead. Taunts you. There may as well have been blood, bone, and souls stirring about in that tank, the money tainted with the lives of your friends, the lives of the struggling. 

There was no prize. Not anymore. 

You��d almost paired with Gi-hun for the marbles game. His hands had found you, wrapped around your arm the moment that voice overhead announced that the game would be played in pairs. His hands on you were like fish to water- knowing, promising. Housing. But then in the distance as the timer closed in you saw Il-nam crouched on his own, watching blurry bodies skate him by, seeking stronger, seeking better. You saw the former version of yourself in all of them. 

If there was a moment you’d be acutely aware of how much Gi-hun had changed you, this would be it. 

You'd spent your entire life waiting for something, someone, worth changing for.

So when Gi-hun turned towards you, those eyes full of empathetic guilt, you already knew what coming. Beat him to it, infact. 

“It’s okay. I’ll see you after, yeah?” You’d murmured despite the way this heavy weight had settled in your chest. Worry, anxiety, all because you would have to be without. 

He kissed your forehead in thanks. You lingered on it for much too long.

“You will.”

And then he was gone, reaching a hand out to to the old man and bringing him to his wobbly feet. Gi-hun was special like that. Always giving and never taking. Not even when he deserved it. You like to think he'd learned from his previous lifestyle, to be the hand that provided, and not the hand that stole.

There was a quick grasp to your hand and low and behold, 212 filled your vision. A much less pleasant view. Her shrill voice brought an ache to your temples, a burn to your skin where she grasped you tight. Sure, you needed a partner, and she knew that. Must have watched your interaction with Gi-hun like a damn vulture and swooped in the second there was room. 

There was a moment when she'd looked at you like you were her saving grace, and for just a second, you'd wondered if maybe all this exterior roughness was just a front. But then, she had to go and ruin it with her words once again.

“Who needs men anyways,” She’d harped. “If he wants to die with that old guy, so be it, huh?”

You ripped yourself away from her like you’d been scalded. She didn’t know the first thing about either of them, and you’d be damned if you would ever put your lives in the hands of hers. Even if you saw yourself in her. Even if she was just trying to survive.

But it was so hard to pity her when those comments seemed to always fill your mouth with bitter. You sought elsewhere.

And you found it- in player 068. He seemed normal enough, albeit noticeably standoffish, moving through the motions with a blank stare, enough determination on those features to bring you comfort- to fail you would be to fail himself. You remembered this sense of unease going into a new challenge blind and relying on a total stranger. 

You remembered how you nearly lost what little breakfast you were provided on the dirt floor when the game was announced. This wasn’t teams- it was rivalry. A versus match. 

Images of your friends flashed through your racing mind. You swore you would have a heart attack.

Ali and Sang-woo. Sae-Byeok and Yi-Jeong. 

Gi-hun and Il-nam.

You were crying before your own game even started. 068 didn’t question it, but you could see the way he studied you, unsure of you. Wondering just what you were doing crying in front of a fellow competitor playing games for your lives. Grief struck you before you even knew who to cry over. 

The initial impression you’d had of him was almost dead on- he was determined. But he wasn’t so closed off as you had thought him to be, that stoic face and even tone masking a much warmer person underneath. 

You couldn’t bring yourself to ask him his name. He didn’t ask you yours, either. 

It was hard to focus on the game. Every turn a step closer to death. Every gunshot the reminder that you may never see your friends again. But, round by round, you managed. When he was on his last marble, you cried even harder. If you from just a week ago, leery eyed, shifty handed and as selfish as the dark over light, you wouldn’t understand the depth of your own sorrow. You’d won, after all. Wiped a player off the board to propel yourself, your life, your wants over his. You’d surely have been proud of yourself.

But now, you just feel like a fucking monster.

To be loved, is to be changed.

To be changed, is to suffer.

You were always good at these types of games. You thought, maybe, by letting him choose the game, it would make the pill easier to gag down. You found, however, it really didn't. From the very second the games started, when he’d made his choice and it was one you were highly familiar with, guilt had already begun to stockpile up in the warehouses of your heart. Box after box. Taking up space, filling you to the brim. 

“I used to play this with my mom,” He’d said, mind escaping to a better time even if just a moment when he’d picked. “I got pretty good at it.”

You wished he hadn’t said that. It was all you could think about when he, with shaking hands and a pale to his face, handed over his last marble. Crestfallen, hopeless. The image of him as a spirited child and soft hands playing marbles with a faceless mother made you sick to your stomach.

You said something you didn’t think would ever see the daylight of your lips. 

“I’m sorry.”

And he, with slumped shoulders and his head hung low. “I know.”

You were escorted away, and you knew deep in the bowels of your heart that you were going to hear that gunshot in your dreams. Following you, watching you. Haunting you for the rest of your life. 

However long that was, anyways. 

The room you were led to was large and bathed in pure white, absent of anything particularly eye catching. There were already people standing about, some with their heads held high, others struggling with the weight of guilt so heavy it threatened to crush you all under its umbrella. Sang-woo’s eyes found you before anyone else's, his expression strained, his red-lined eyes betraying his all-business exterior. It made it hard to breathe. 

Sae-Byeok shared the sentiment. Distant, far away. Trying to figure out how to cope now bearing the hands of cruelty towards someone worth caring about. 

Then, you saw him. Gi-hun. And his angular cheeks are soaked with tears. When his eyes meet yours, a lance of relief has you letting out a breath you hadn’t realized you’d been holding, but there’s no room for much else. Grief burrowed and dug it’s way in, seized the joy and ate it whole. Il-nam’s passing wasn’t an easy loss to digest. Partly because the old man had meant something to you. Mostly because Gi-hun would never forgive himself. He’d left a piece of himself lying on that dirt, counting marbles and talking with his gganbu. 

You crept to his side and took his hand in your own. All he could offer was a squeeze in return.

You could still see 068 behind your eyes. How he hadn’t been angry with you, how he watched you walk away before dropping to the ground. Never to return home, never to be found. The walls felt like they were both growing larger and also closing in. You were struggling to grapple with it all. 

Gi-hun was still back there with the old man as you were all escorted back to the dormitories where they passed out measly potatoes and water. Still back there when you’d all sat among the beds now found far and few between, picking at your meals with your bellies full on remorse. 

Gi-hun couldn’t bring himself to eat. Sae-Byeok struggled to get past the second bite. You yourself just found it easier to roll the potato around in your hands, balancing the weight of it, wondering if you could ever be forgiven. Gi-hun’s knee bumped against yours, a reminder that he was still there, even if his expression was as blank as a canvas. You needn’t ask to understand what he was thinking about, lost in it. 

“Don’t make a big deal out of it, they were just people you’d met here.” Sand-woo had said, almost finished with his meager meal. Talking to himself, justifying himself, but everyone could feel it- Ali’s absence was like a solar eclipse. You followed his line of sight to 069, sitting in a heap of desolation on one of the only mattresses left. Sang-woo swallowed hard. “That man’s partner was his wife.”

You breath left you like a ghost as you took in the sight of the poor man, struck and swimming with grief. 

Gi-hun cried that night. Though it was silent, muted tears gathering at the point of his jaw before soaking into his tracksuit, you could feel his shoulder trembling with each inaudible sob. He trembled apart in your hold and you tucked him into yourself, cradled his body and kissed his forehead just as he'd taught you as if it would heal him. His fingers found you in the darkness and held tight, just as needing as how you clutched him. Your heart ached, seismic pains ringing from every nerve in your body, drawing you in despair. 

Every time you dozed off, you swore you could hear a gunshot cutting through the humidity of turmoil. You swore you’d see 068’d face. 

Maybe if you hadn’t met Gi-hun, you’d have taken all of this mess in stride like 101. You hated him- despised his cruelty and his jeers, but ultimately he went to sleep that night with a full stomach and dreaming of fat stacks of bloodied cash. Meanwhile, you stared at the ceiling and barely registered the way your stomach growled at you. It felt just. Perhaps if you’d sought help elsewhere that first day, you could sleep. 

But, you didn’t. So now, you endured. 

069’s cries did not go unnoticed, either, from his bed now entirely too cold to withstand.

It was tough to imagine the suffering, the pure guilt so true and down to it’s very root that it grew it’s sprawling limbs of misery and woe into every crevice. Under every stone, over the sky, from the tip of his nose to the soles of his heavy feet. The human body was not designed to bear such suffering. It curled in itself, emptied itself of all things good. Hollowed from the inside out. 

So much so, that when you’d found out the next morning that the man had taken his own life, you weren’t sure how there was anything left of himself to hang. 

How you take anymore of this? When there was already so little left. 

That day, you discovered that the pits of rock bottom were merely roadblocks. 

The glass bridge took everything. Taught you that even when you believed your cup had run dry of tears, there would never be an end to the bottomless waterfalls in your eyes. There would never be a suffering so consuming and total that it would simply stop there. 

Everyone had died except you and Gi-hun. 

The finalists. 

The piggy bank grinned with teeth and malice. Reminded you of what you had done. What you had witnessed, and how you had survived off the backs of your former competitors. 

You were fed and suited. Given a real meal, something you'd have fought tooth and nail for nail for back home. It tasted like despair. 

All you could see were the fleeting images of Sang-woo crashing through the glass in his desperate attempt to cross the bridge and leap to the platform as the timer ticked away the seconds of his lifespan. He’d tried to grab the bars as he went, fingers slipping off the metal and sending him plummeting to the ground. You, Sae-Byeok, and Gi-hun barely managed to jump to safety as the bridge combusted into fireworks of glass and shards, showering your fallen friend meters down below. 

You think a piece of Gi-hun fell with him. You think Gi-huns left pieces of himself everywhere, now. Back with Il-nam lying sprawled in the dirt, down in the bellows of the pit with Sang-woo mangled and broken. You’re not entirely sure how whole you are anymore, either. 

When the guards lead the way out, you had to take Gi-hun’s hand in your own just to get him moving. 

Sae-Byeok didn’t survive the walk back to the dorms after your pointless meals. One moment, she was there. Quiet as always, somber. Maybe if you’d have known she was bleeding out, you could have done something. The next moment, she was dropping like a stone, and she bled, and bled, and bled. 

There wasn’t much to remember after that. Just a blur of outcries and the desperate, pleading demands that they save her. You’d both pounded on the doors, wrenching at the knobs, begging for them to do something until you were both blue in the face and sliding down the door in exhaustion. 

No one answered, and the lights flickered out down to the same minute second as they always had. 

With no one other than Gi-hun at your side, there wasn’t reason to concern yourself with watching each other's backs. You don’t think either of you had the energy for it even if you had, running empty tanks and affliction. All you found yourself able to do was lay beside him and beg God for a different way. A different path. Anything other than the way you were headed. You’d be different, this time, you promised. You’d do right. No more stealing, or cheating, or fighting for just the scraps at the end of the table. You wouldn’t take this life for granted any longer if he just please saved you both. Pull your sorry souls from the fire and let you start anew.

His arms are wrapped around you and his face inches away. Now, truer than ever, there was nothing but him. 

Gi-hun's voice is soft. “We will both leave here. I promise you."

The red lights of the surveillance cameras blink from every corner in the darkness. 

You tried to believe him over all else.

“I’m scared.” You whispered. He kisses the top of your head. An all healing ailment. Your lower lip quivers. 

So, he kisses your nose. And then your cheek. The corner of your mouth. You found the sides of his face in the darkness like you’d done it your entire life, and you press your lips against his. His hands splay over your back, and he drags you in.

[saturnaous]

I think. Alphonse has a lot of dealings with disassociation and being in a body without nerves.

[senipsenipsenip]

Eventually, the scrapbook ended. The sun had fallen beneath the horizon hours ago, and some nagging part of Stan's brain was telling him kids shouldn't be up this late. Unless they're breaking into a mini golf course. He jerked his head back, furrowing his brow. That was...oddly specific.

"Grunkle Stan?" a little voice - Mabel - questioned. He looked down at his knee to see where his great-niece was sitting, eyeing him with no small degree of concern. "Are you okay?"

He ruffled her hair. "'Course, Pumpkin. Just trying to shake some of those memories back in the right place, huh?" He gave an exaggerated shake of his head, smacking the side like he was trying to get water out his ears. "Got a straggler! Hup! There we go," he grinned, lowering his hand. "Good as new!"

Whatever he said must have been the right thing, because Mabel's eyes had lit up like he'd told her he was turning the Mystery Shack into a cotton candy emporium and Dipper had a sudden death grip on his other leg.

"Geez kid, you're clawing through my pants here," he grumbled, making no move to take away his nephew's hand. "Haven't you chewed your nails off by now? How're they so sharp?"

"You called me Pumpkin," Mabel whispered.

"You remembered I chew my nails," Dipper said in awe. Then he frowned. "Hey, how come Mabel gets a nice one and I get a gross one."

Stan shrugged. "'Cause she's nice, and you're gross."

"Ha! Zoom!" Mabel pumped a fist in the air before collapsing back into Stan's lap in a fit of giggles. Dipper rolled his eyes, but he was smiling as he settled back against Stan's other side. Ford stayed perched on the arm of the chair, smiling fondly, but eyebrows still drawn together.

"What's the matter, Sixer?" Stan frowned as Ford grimaced at the nickname. "What?"

Ford waved off Stan's concern. "It's nothing. It's..." Ford sighed. "I'm sorry. It's not nothing. I just don't want to..." He pursed his lips.

"Don't leave us hanging." There was a shake in Stan's voice, and Mabel shifted closer to her Grunkle.

"I'm glad this has been helpful to you," Ford muttered. "But...you don't remember everything. Not really."

"Whaddya mean?" Stan asked. "I remember you, the kids, Soos. The freeloading jerk who steals my sandwiches." Stan glared at Waddles who simply oinked and started trying to eat his shoelace. Whatever. Free pass for jump starting his memories. He better not get used to it.

Dipper sat up. "Yeah, what do you mean, Great Uncle Ford?"

Ford frowned. "I just... Hm." He seemed to be weighing something in his mind before turning to Stan with some resolve.

"Stanley," he began slowly. "I hope you appreciate what I'm about to do for you."

"That's not terrifyingly ominous," Stan muttered, glancing around at the available exits.

"Do you remember my - " Ford cleared his throat. "My first kiss?"

Stan froze. "What?"

"My first kiss, do you remember it?"

"I was there?"

"Yes. Unfortunately a lot of people were."

Mabel squealed beside Stan. "Ooo! Romance memories! How old were you? Was it high school? Was it a high school romance? Was it star-crossed love between the nerd and the cheerleader?"

"Mabel, I think Grunkle Stan is supposed to figure that stuff out."

Mabel sat up and stared at Stan expectantly. "Come on Grunkle Stan! I need details!"

Stan shook his head, nose wrinkling like he'd smelled something rotting. "How should I know? Who asks their brother that sort of thing?"

"Precisely." Ford spoke with the same air of professionalism he adopted when explaining his theories, despite the alarming shade of red his face was becoming. "So far it seems that your memories are returning based on external stimuli, whether that be Mabel's scrapbook or our own prompting."

"So, wait, you're saying I won't get all my memories back?"

"No! No that's not what I'm saying," Ford held up his hands. "What I'm saying is we can't expect them all to come back at once. And at the risk of turning the Shack into the set of the Johnny Carson show, we'll keep asking you questions."

Stan frowned. "What if I don't wanna remember my brother smooching some babe?"

Ford turned redder. "You do."

"I do? Geez, I was a perv."

"In the meantime," Ford pressed. "It's important to take note of any stimulus you experience that makes you remember something. Even if it doesn't paint the whole picture for you, we can fill in the blanks. Or prompt you to remember more details."

Dipper grinned. "And then we get to learn more about the secrets you've been hiding, old man."

Stan lifted his hand to give Dipper a well-earned noogie, but paused before he could make contact. "Old man...did you...did you tell me to shut up one time and then punched me?"

Dipper balked. "What? No I - "

"YEAH no WAY that'd be CRAZY!" Mabel interjected a bit too loudly. "Anyway let's get back to that kissing story, huh?"

"Actually Mabel, I don't know if I want to hear about Great Uncle Ford kissing anybody either."

"Oh come on, Dipper. Are you jealous that The Author got someone to kiss him and you didn't?"

"What? No!"

"Some girls like nerds."

"Mabel I don't want to think about anybody in this room kissing anybody."

"You could learn from him Dipper! Figure out how to wield your nerdish charms. Soon you'll be like a kissing machine!"

"MABEL -"

The twins were silenced by a sudden gasp from Stan. His eyes were wide and unfocused, his jaw hanging open as if someone had knocked the wind out of him.

"Holy - " he choked out softly.

"Grunkle Stan?" Dipper sat up fully. "Are you okay?"

Stan didn't acknowledge him, eyes darting around minutely.

"Grunkle Stan?" Mabel asked softly. "Did you remember something?" Moisture had begun to gather in the corners of Stan's eyes, one of his hands covering his mouth as he began to shake.

"Great Uncle Ford?" Dipper turned to Ford, worry stitching his brows together. But Ford didn't look worried. If anything, he looked like he wanted to disappear through the floor. His face was an alarming shade of red, nearly identical to his sweater. Stan let out another choked sound.

"Are you..." Mabel trailed off. "Grunkle Stan are you laughing?" He was quaking now, his hand falling from his mouth to reveal a wide, open-mouthed smile. He began slapping the arm rest with his free hand, eyes squeezed shut and tears rolling down his cheeks. Dipper and Mabel shared a look. Sure, they'd seen Stan laugh before, but it was usually a loud guffawing thing. They'd never seen him like this. They shared a tentative smile. Either this was the hardest they'd seen him laugh, or he had really snapped.

Ford seemed to pick up on their worry. "He's fine," Ford offered. "He's just...remembering my first kiss." At Ford's words, Stan let out a loud cackle, burying his face in his hands.

Mabel cocked her head. "But what's so funny about -"

"You children must be exhausted," Ford blurted out, standing abruptly. "Come now, go wash up then head to bed!"

"Oh no you don't!" Stan shouted. He wiped tears from his eyes, still smiling. "You're not getting out of this one, pal!"

"Stanley, this conversation is hardly appropriate for children -"

"You brought it up!"

"And now I'm putting a stop to it."

Stan grabbed his head. "Ooooo ow," he gave an exaggerated groan. "My poor head. The mean man won't let me share my memories so they're all going away!"

"Stanley, please don't joke about that."

"I'm fading away - "

"Stanley."

Stan crossed his arms. "You know, you really know how to take the fun out of amnesia."

"Yeah! Come on Grunkle Ford," Mabel pouted. "You can't just leave us hanging!"

"Yeah!" Dipper joined in. "If it's a funny story I want to hear it."

Ford spluttered, pulling at the sleeves of his sweater and looking around for an exit.

"Come on, Sixer," Stan chimed in. His eyes had gone soft around the edges. "I think the kids deserve a funny story."

After today went unspoken. Ford met Stanley's gaze, already feeling his resolve melting before he even turned to his grand-niece and nephew's inquisitive smiles.

"Alright," Ford conceded. "But to maintain the integrity of the exercise, Stanley will be the one to tell it. Whatever he doesn't remember, I can fill in."

Stan rubbed his hands together. "Oh boy, this'll be good."

"I regret this already."

"It's alright Great Uncle Ford," Dipper patted his shoulder. "We have a whole summer's worth of stuff we get to make fun of Grunkle Stan for. This just gives us stuff to use against you now. Levels the playing field."

Ford frowned. "Is that meant to be comforting?"

Dipper shrugged.

"Alright you two, enough yapping." Stan grinned, leaning forward in his seat and spreading his hands out in front of him. It was the same way he started his campfire tales. Mabel and Dipper met each other's eyes and smiled.

"Once upon a time, there was a beautiful girl named Kiss-Bot..."

[bklily]

What? Never kissed your pals goodbye?

[nandermoenthusiast]

The coffin lands with a crash, Nandor already out of it gracefully as his vampiric nature grants him.

“Have you survived the fall Guillermo, are you allright?” he asks haughtily and with a barely concealed predatory grin at the yelping heap of limbs and clothes that is Guillermo right now. Of course he was never truly worried for his well being, Guillermo might be human, but he is no regular human, if his van Helsing blood has anything to say about that. Nandor just likes to tease.

“Yes master, im fine, i just wasnt prepa-“

Nandor offers him a hand out of the coffin, the way Guillermo has done so many times before for him. Nandor looks at him curiously, Guillermo looks all flustered right now, hes cute. Hes always cute of course, but damn. He hasn’t even realised the obvious parallel yet, just took his hand absent-mindedly as he was rambling about something. His hair is all mussed up too. Cute.

Probably the moment registers into Guillermo’s mind as Nandor hears his muttering protests suddenly cut short. He’s looking at their gingerly intertwined hands and kinda looks like hes about to swallow a frog, or maybe like he’s about to start crying again. This fucking guy. Always a theatrics with him. But Nandor has learned to lean into his little guy’s moods. He leaves him to his maybe horny maybe emotional thoughts and finishes helping him out of the coffin.

The air is thick between them now. He can sort of hear Guillermo’s heartbeat from this distance, the little guy probably has a concert thumping in his ears right now. Nandor enjoys playing with his food, always has, and today is no different. He takes a step closer. Guillermo takes an infinitesimal step back. There is a wall very close to his back. Right where Nandor wanted him.

“You know as i was saying about the cameras, Guillermo…” he starts feign-casual as he very not casually hovers over him, black eyes boring into him with the fire that only very rarely comes out in front of the crew. Guillermo looks like he’s a mixture between disbelieving and like he’s gonna pass out from hyperventilation at a moments notice. It’s an endearing mix.

“Y-yes, you -were saying something about your hair…” Guillermo couldn’t physically look away from Nandor if his life depended on it right now.

“And other reasons”, very seriously.

“- Yeah”, an exhale.

Just look at his eager little eyes. Should he put the guy out of his misery? Well come to think of it, should he put himself out of his own misery? He’s been in love with the guy for the better part of a decade now. Of course he’s not about to say that now. Let him play the part of suave vampire for his Guillermo, let him fullfill any fantasy he’s ever had, at the very least this very first time they do this dance. There will be time for the mushy stuff later. Come to think of it, what is Nandor doing?? Acting on years of pent up sexual and romantic tension, of course, but what is he setting himself up to? Heartbreak.

Violent, earth shattering heartbreak. Maybe not today, maybe not in 10 years, but soon. Soon to a vampire anyway. No- you don’t know that. If Guillermo loves me, he might find a way to not leave me like he always does. He always does leave. But then he also always comes back. Doesn’t he? Nandor loses himself in these thoughts for a moment, and Guillermo seems to notice his mind is suddenly somewhere else.

Oh, to be known so completely. Oh, to have a worthy partner, a partner who knows everything about you, a Lazlo to your Nadja, a Charmaine to your Sean, a Sire to your Baron. And to have to lose it in a matter of years. Just his luck. But also like Colin Robinson said, dont be sad cause its over, smile cause it happened.

Nandor’s eyes keep searching Guillermo’s as he draws closer and closer, eyes intensely registering every microexpression on his beloved’s face, the little crinkle between his brows and the small nervous smile that’s forming around his lips. His hands land seamlessly and delicately on either side of Guillermo’s face, and he feels his breath hitch. He really doesn’t give a flying fuck if he’s gonna suffer for a thousand years, Guillermo is here right now and he looks like he’s gonna break under his touch. One hand goes to cradle his head, thumb delicately swiping over Guillermo’s ear and pulse point, as Nandor brings their noses together and they breathe the same air for a moment. The other hand is held gently across his cheek, just there, a reassuring weight. “I’m going to kiss you now”.

And Nandor kisses him.

[cowboypoisons]

we need to talk abt noritoshi kamo more and no i don’t mean kenjaku btw!

his character is SO fascinating and he’s literally so doomed by the narrative and i wanna kiss him so hard bc of it!!! :3

from the time his mother decided it’d be silly to name her son after the most notoriously evil sorcerer in history all the way up until kenjaku basically saying he’s useless and would be a horrible clan head, this dude has NOT had a good time 😭😭😭

bc imagine your entire life trying to be this PERFECT perfect heir. your mother literally left you because she believed you’d thrive more without her and you decide to be this perfect heir for HER. and come to find out you were never really meant to be the clan head .

do u know how SICK that is??? especially considering he never knew who he was named after and how much of a stain the previous noritoshi kamo left on not just the kamo clan, but the whole damn sorcerer world…

like shit toshi fight BACK! 😭😭😭

[darlingcloudie-9]

drewposting. part two!!!!!!! (ft. Diana Cavendish)

[tongues--and--teeth]

Lovvveeeee this fic from @thebiscuitlabryinth sooo much omg. She’s such a visual writer I felt like I could actually see what was going on while reading lol.

Click for better quality!

POV: you’re Pure Vanilla Cookie

[rox-of-iu]

ayoo guess who finally sat down and caught up with cultivate B)

is me. so you know what that means.

spoiler warning for cultivate ch 30-37

there was actually.... more things i wanted to draw but I already did so many I had to physically restrain myself hfsjkkdh anyway yes can you tell i love this fic very much

yet once again. cultivate by the wonderful @neonghostcat

[tennessoui]

✨important ko-fi update✨

i figured out how to fix my ko-fi unsubscribing problem without deleting my whole acocunt (i just went through and unsubscribed everyone who was still subscribed and then turned off the option to be a monthly supporter 🎉 )

(it turns out it was a very easy fix/answer to the dilemma i was having lol - there was even an official walkthrough from ko-fi)

so!! instead of just deleting my account completely, i've gone and made all the stories there public, so everyone can read them if they'd like! the links to the google docs where the fics are are in the summaries of the posts in the gallery tab of my ko-fi. they vary from familiar aus we've talked about on tumblr (like wine party au and divorce lawyer au) to aus that have fics on ao3 (like pbatmb & stacy's mom au) to aus that i created really just for ko-fi (like jedi healer anakin au & mermay au)

when i get around to posting the fics on ao3 from ko-fi (sometime in 2025, depending on my serotonin levels), i'll delete the fic from the gallery. but this way people who had access before because they were supporters get to keep their access even after their subscriptions expire!! and folks who do want to read the stories but couldn't because of budget get them too 😊

[noctilu-uca]

i doodle a lot in spanish class so here are my guys

[shannonsketches]

he's so important to me

[littlehatmouse]

i finished this in the last 20 minutes of lesbian visibility week after not drawing at all LETS GO

[bugtoast]

So i was playing around with Wallpaper engine, and ended up giving my computer a face,,,,,

his name is Syzygy, He/They/It/Xe,,,,,,,, and i love him very very much <3333

[sophistired18]

No one talk to me. I fell in love.