#idv gravekeeper

[olliesneweyes]

Please comfort me, angels divine (1.7k words)

In which Andrew is not very mentally healthy.

(This fic is about Andrew but the pov is on Norton and Luca! Not intended as a ship fic but could be seen that way)

The otherwise-silent manor hall was filled with the sound of clicking boots. The boots in question belonged to a certain Norton Campbell, who had chosen this hall specifically to wander down because he needed to have a talk with someone.

Now, saying that, he probably shouldn't be walking towards said someone's door with a blood-stained monocle clasped in his hand. But by the time he'd thought about that he was already halfway to the door, and he figured he might as well continue.

The monocle used to (and technically still does) belong to Orpheus. Oh how he hated Orpheus right now. But he'd already gotten his revenge in, so his internal fire happened to just be hot coals at the moment.

“Room 3-0-1” was written on one of two plaques on the door in front of him. The other read “Andrew Kreiss”. This was the right room, certainly, though Norton still hesitates.

Andrew's been locked inside his room since… Well, it was Orpheus who started it.

That damned man had always been a gossiper. A (very annoying) storyteller by nature, he liked to spin tales about the other manor residents. Everyone knew these rumours were most likely false, and yet they still spread like wildfire.

Sometimes you could tell that people's hearts weren't in it. That they just wanted a fun story to talk about, even at the expense of others. Norton understood that.

But Orpheus decided to go after Andrew one day. God knows how he thought that was a good idea. Andrew worries if you look at him with even a pinprick of hate. People whispering things about him being some kind of monster or changeling when they think he can't hear was clearly torture to him, given how almost immediately after Norton noticed this was happening he'd found Andrew silently crying his eyes out.

The “demon” comments were the worst. Andrew was quite clearly some flavour of religious, and even without understanding what he actually prays to, Norton could tell that phrasing was doing a lot of the damage to his psyche. Norton had tried to do damage control as much as he could. So what if he yanks on their heart and tells them exactly how much Andrew cries at night because of what they said? It's their damn fault for saying it in the first place.

If that wasn't bad enough, Orpheus had happened to make a comment towards Luca. Luca was one of Andrew's closest, if not only friends. He was one of the only things Andrew would go out of his way to defend.

As far as Norton heard, Andrew had seemingly been building up discreet anger all day, but whatever Orpheus said in that moment was enough for him to snap. Before anyone knew what was happening, the normally meek gravekeeper had stood up to shout at Orpheus because how dare he try to taint the name of such a blessed man—

Andrew's never liked conflict. And from how he reacted in hindsight, it's pretty clear that he just thinks the manor hates him much more now. Which is why Norton's standing in front of his door, hesitating and lost in thought. Has it been a week now? A bit more?

The exact day doesn't matter. What matters is trying to get through to him that no, he will not be instantly crucified if he steps out of his room.

Better late than never, Norton knocks the door. There's movement. Then nothing.

“Andrew?” He calls through the cracks in the doorframe. There's no keyhole or letterbox, so it'll have to do.

Movement again. Andrew's steps are accented by the scraping tin sound of his shovel hitting the floor. Norton has no time to dwell on if he's really trying to walk with it or just dig through the floorboards before there's a thud. It sounds very close to him, despite being separated by the door.

Scrambling hands seem to fidget with the door lock, before stopping.

“...door's open-” Comes a rasp from Andrew. Norton winces. His voice always sounds sickly, but not like… that.

Norton decides not to waste any more time. He pushes open the door.

It's much, much worse than he thought.

-------

Luca Balsa was in the middle of watching his friend and sort-of-roommate, Emil, try to twist two particularly shiny strands of metal wire together into a flower shape, when a thud from somewhere on the floor made him flinch.

Looking around the room, he doesn't see anything that could have potentially fallen down. So he assumes that it was from someone else's room, and ignores it. There's voices down the hall, though. Or one voice speaking very strongly.

He can't quite place who they are, or what room the noise is coming from, but it's clearly grabbed Emil's attention alongside his own.

“Is that Mr Campbell?” Asks Emil.

“Probably.” Luca’s pretty sure it is, but it'd be rude to eavesdrop. And the conversation seems to have moved into one of the rooms anyway. So Emil continues to make his flower, and Luca continues to watch.

It's about ten minutes (or from what Luca could tell, it was about ten minutes. He keeps forgetting to put a clock in here.) before there are more sounds. A rather loud set of sounds. That of boots running very fast towards the door. They stop directly in front of it and leave him to stew in concern for a moment before the door is pushed open by a very stressed looking Norton Campbell.

“Hh- hello” He starts, still trying to catch his breath. “We've got a problem. An Andrew problem.”

Oh. Oh no.

“Is he alright?” Luca asks dumbly. He's definitely not, in fact, alright, given the look on Norton's face, but it's probably good to ask. Maybe he'll explain?

“Of course he's no— okay look, I… don't think he's eaten or slept since the argument the other day.” Right. The argument. Somehow that had completely slipped Luca's mind. “I don't know how to help. Three confused people are probably more helpful than one guy who I'm not even sure he considers a friend, so…”

Norton trails off into silence. Luca knows even less how to help. Andrew was always the one reminding him to care for himself, why has Andrew suddenly neglected himself, despite everything? And even if he was just scared to go get things, then-

“Oh… should we have helped sooner…?” asks Emil. Luca should have helped sooner, definitely. It was inevitable that Emil would forget, but Luca's trying to be the responsible one, damn it! Why did he have to forget!

“From what he said, he told you to leave him alone. He definitely wouldn't have come and got you. If he was left to his own devices. It's not your fault.” Norton being the voice of reason when Luca can't, as always.

“Why not?”

“You can ask him when we get there, Emil.”

Right. They were going to visit him.

And just like that the conversation was over.

Several pairs of feet step awkwardly into Andrew's room.

The lights are off, with the worn curtains only letting in a dim glow from outside to illuminate the place.

Luca's never been in this room before. It's a bit eerie.

The doorway faces a bed with too-neatly folded sheets. Norton was definitely right about Andrew not sleeping, at least assuming he slept there.

The bed faces a window where the light flickers through onto both sides of the room. One contains a wardrobe and some sort of gallery wall with images he can't make out.

The other side contains a shelf covered in all manner of rosaries, old books, and what appears to be metal. Next to that is some kind of dresser draped in cloth that blocks most of the mirror that he can see.

And next to all of that… is Andrew. He's practically lying on the floor as he kneels, with how close his head and shoulders are to its wooden surface. His eyes are shut.

He's not asleep, though. Luca sees the cross clasped in his tired hands, and hears hushed whispers stop as he notices their entry. He's been praying.

At that, Norton turns to leave. “I'm getting stuff from the kitchens for you all,” he says. “I'll be back in twenty.”

Luca guesses that's a sympathetic way of telling them to go deal with him. He can't blame the man. The door shuts, leaving them alone.

“Andrew?” Emil says into the heaving silence. “Are you alright..?”

Andrew's reaction is quick given how tired he looks, but it's still rather sluggish. He looks surprised to see them. Maybe a bit… fearful.

“'m alright…” is echoed back to them. He sounds horrible, speech broken and slurring, but there's a faint smile in his voice. “why’re you…” He trails off on every word.

“We're here because we want to comfort you.” Luca's tongue unties itself. “You're in pain.”

Andrew blinks at him. Maybe he doesn't realise that fact.

“I’ss alright, angel… ‘ll be okay…”

“But you aren't..” Emil crouches down next to him.

Andrew says something under his breath. Is he still praying? Maybe this is the area where he does it. It's probably best to move him if he keeps slipping back into doing that.

“Can you put the cross down?” Luca asks. It's not quite an order, but it is an instruction. He wants to pick Andrew up and lift him to bed himself, but that'd go disastrously. So he tries to herd him.

Andrew shakes his head. “nneed it to…” Luca cuts in.

“Pray? You've done more than enough of that by now. It's alright.”

He wouldn't be surprised if Andrew had been here for hours.

“M’re than… enough..? I did too much? Ssorry angel..” the man mutters. The cross is out of his hands now, laid on the floor next to him. There's still imprints of where it was. It looks sharp.

“It's alright…” Emil says. “You're not in trouble…” They wrap an arm around Andrew to try and stir him to his feet, only for him to lay his head on their shoulders instead.

Another mumbled sorry from Andrew. But sleeping here on the floor is much better than not sleeping at all.

Andrew lays down, properly this time, and closes his eyes. He can't be feeling well at all, and yet he smiles.

They stay like that for a very long time.

#andrew kreiss #Luca Balsa #Norton Campbell #Emil mesmer #identity v #idv #idv prisoner #idv prospector #idv gravekeeper #idv patient #idv fanfiction #Ollie writes

[turbulentscrawl]

Steamy Rescues

Sorry, I'm just thinking about hot men saving my life today. Let me drool in peace

Warnings: suggestive stuff, delicious men

Naib

Your time in the chair was nearly up when Naib suddenly slammed into it at full speed. One second you were struggling against your restraints, cursing and consumed with desperate thoughts of freedom, and the next his hands were next to your head. Initially you fell silent because you were startled, but that quickly melted into a perverted sort of awe as you looked over the mercenary.

He was looming over you, muscles tense, toiled taut like a spring. His tight shirt was torn open like he’d been caught by the collar and wrenched himself free, leaving a teasing view of his sweaty, scarred, heaving chest. Some of his hair had slipped free of his hair band and clung to his damp face and neck. He was out of breath too, each exhale fanning down on you, panting less like a rescuer and more like a predator who’s cornered his prey. There was a certain musk wafting off of him…it was a bit maddening.

“I know, I know,” Naib said quickly. “You can tell me I look like shit later. We’ve got to GO.” He grabbed the bar pinning your torso to the chair and, with a flex of his biceps and feral grunt, ripped it off you.

“I’ll tell you something alright,” you gasp quietly, briefly wondering if your nose was bleeding.

Naib seemed to pay no mind to your mutterings. The last cipher popped, and the siren blaring in the distance gave you both a rush of adrenaline that overrode any lingering pain. Taking that que, Naib grabbed your wrist and all but dragged you sprinting to the gate.

When you were home free, though, he held your gaze daringly and asked, “So what did you want to tell me?”

Andrew

You had heard the disturbance of dirt nearby, but were too preoccupied with struggling to notice the source. The next second, Andrew’s dirty blonde hair (literally) popped out of the ground between your legs. He was already cursing under his breath, and shaking, just a bit. You vaguely remember hearing about Andrew being claustrophobic…. But those thoughts are washed away when he roughly grabs your thighs for support and you realize the exact position you’re in.

He had emerged a little too close to the chair and was having trouble getting out without sliding his body up against yours. The chair wobbled forward a little, hanging you over him, as one of the feet dangled into the hole he’d left in the dirt. He grabbed your caged forearms next, managing to haul himself out enough to be level with your chest.

“Can’t you help me?” he hissed, face flush with embarrassment at his predicament.

“I’m a little preoccupied,” you snap back, thankfully still having sense enough for it. Andrew clicks his tongue, hangs his head in what’s probably supposed to be shame…but his mop of hair hides his face and most of your lap from view, bringing even mor lewd thoughts to mind. “Y-you know, I’m kind of on a time crunch here!”

“Shut up, I know!” Andrew shouts. As soon as it’s out he clenches his teeth and looks over his shoulder for the Hunter, and without bothering to climb out of his hole starts fumbling with your restraints. When you pop free, the angle and weight of him clinging to you throws you both to the ground, your chest right on his face.

He screeched like a schoolgirl, but his tomato-red face was endearing enough to override most of the fear you felt for the remainder of the match.

Luchino

Though no one called him such, Luchino was a healer in his own right.

His skilled hands had patched you up twice already this match, and though the pain from Michiko’s cuts lingered, you could hardly complain when you thought about how Luchino had loomed over you. He was a polite man, but no-nonsense. Whenever you appeared at his cipher, alone and bleeding, he shoved you to your knees beneath him and got right to work. You couldn’t say if it was the adrenalin, but you were acutely aware of the heat radiating off his body the whole time. Of the gentle ghosting of his claws on your back, making you shiver. When he tied the bandages tight—too tight, almost, but he said that’s how they’re supposed to be—he grunted and huffed in your ear.

“All done,” he said, smirking. “Take these, too.” Luchino straightened up, but instead of returning to his cipher he applied some of that mystery serum to his forearm—his sleeves rolled up deliciously—and peeled away a hard patch of scales. You were too entranced by the oil-slick glisten it left on his skin to question why he was handing them to you.

Before you could stand, a butterfly alighted on your shoulder. Luchino reacted incredibly quickly; you blinked and he was hunched over you again, arms caging you fully to his chest. A sound like cracking glass met your ears the same time as his displeased hiss. Before you could ask, he grabbed you by the waist and threw you into a forward sprint, ordering “Go!”

#idv x reader #identity v #luchino diruse x reader #naib subedar x reader #andrew kreiss x reader #idv gravekeeper #idv professor #idv mercenary #turbulentscrawl

[chawawanya]

Totally did not rush this..I knew his birthday was today haha.

#andrew kreiss #idv andrew kreiss #idv gravekeeper #idv #identity v #digital art #art #identity v fanart

[t0bey]

rah rah rah

#identity v #idv #lily barriere #andrew kreiss #leo beck #idv cheerleader #idv gravekeeper #idv hell ember #my art

[circus-blades]

do you think her chants are prophetic

#identity v #idv #idv lily #idv cheerleader #idv andrew #idv gravekeeper #identity v lily #lily barriere #andrew kreiss #fanart #my art #circusblades

[ramenthievery]

Personal attack by idv for me not being able to get this skin anymore btw

#my art #queue #idv #identity v #andrew kreiss #idv gravekeeper #idv fanart #I love mural conservator but at least I have train conductor </3

[kirivon]

Playing Hide and Seek with baby VALE

#my art #digital art #artists on tumblr #luca balsa #identity v #idv #idv prisoner #identity v prisoner #andrew kreiss #idv gravekeeper #edgar valden #idv postman #victor grantz #idv painter

[bonezoid]

norton thangs

#idv #norton campbell #idv fanart #identity v fanart #idv prospector #idv fools gold #fools gold #idv survivor #idv hunter #fanart #my art #artists of tumblr #artists on tumblr #artist #doodle #sketch #digital art #drawing #andrew kreiss #idv andrew #idv gravekeeper #doodle dump

[kuroisat0]

⭐️

#artwork #digital art #digital painting #painting #drawing #sketch #portrait #digital illustration #identity v #aesop carl #idv fanart #idv prisoner #idv embalmer #idv gravekeeper #identity v grave keeper #idv #antonio identity v #antonio idv #identity v postman #idv postman #idv victor #idv violinist #idv puppeteer #idv matthias #matthias czernin

[akuma-tenshi]

#idv #identity v #luca balsa #idv prisoner #emily dyer #idv doctor #emil mesmer #idv emil #idv patient #victor grantz #idv postman #andrew kreiss #idv gravekeeper #idv grave keeper #ganji gupta #idv batter #lucaemily #vicmil #gandrew

[modestmxishi]

my little scrunkly grave keeper <33 trying a new shading technique w this one

#identity v #idv fanart #identity v fanart #idv gravekeeper #grave keeper idv #identity v gravekeeper #idv andrew #identity v andrew #andrew kreiss #digital art #procreate #digital artist #my boy <3 #my scrunkly #pathetic men

[turbulentscrawl]

Reminders of the Horror

Being exposed to bad things all the time makes one a bit blind to them. Sometimes, they need a more severe reminder of the truth.

Warnings: descriptions of gore, reader death, hurt (and only a little comfort)

Emil (& Ada)

You said you’d get him. Rescue him from the chair. Ada trusted you, and look what you’ve done with that trust.

That’s what you think as you lay bleeding on the ground at Emil’s kicking feet. Your ears are ringing for some reason, and the soil is pulsing beneath you, but somewhere beyond the tinnitus you can hear Emil crying. Screaming, shouting. You can’t see yourself, but you can feel the wounds. Between that and Emil’s reactions, you know it’s bad. Robbie’s axe, you think, had just about split you in half. Your stomach feels light, like it’s gone hollow, and it hurts more than you can fathom.

“Get up, get up, get up,” Emil is chanting in the most terrible, agonized voice. “You’re okay, you’re okay, please get up!”

You try to heed his begging. One of your hands twitches, shakes, finds his ankle. Somehow your fingers crawl your palm up the length of Emil’s leg, to his knee. You push there weakly, trying to haul yourself up. A hopeful-sounding laugh breaks through his sobs when you nearly get propped to your elbow. He raises the leg you’re braced against, trying to get you closer, but his foot kicks into your wound and you collapse onto your side with a pitiful cry. Spayed across the grass there are your blood and guts. If there was anything left in your cleaved stomach, you might have thrown up at the sight.

“No no no no, I’m sorry—I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean too,” Emil cries, screams. “Ada! Ada help them!!” You didn’t even hear her approaching. Everything is fading in and out, you’re yo-yoed in and out of a dark tunnel. There’s a humming sound, a whine in the dirt, after a few seconds you realize it’s yourself moaning in dying pain.

“I’m sorry, It’s too late, Emil. We need to go,” you barely make out what she says.

“No, Ada—” Emil is sobbing, barely able to step over you for his hyperventilating.

“We’ll see them back at the manor, I promise. All will be well,” she coos. Her hand pats you twice before everything seeps into black, with a gentleness you hope means your mistakes are forgiven.

Andrew Kreiss

The window lingers above you, the sky beyond it, all of it an abstract frenzy of shaking movement. Alva’s electric-charged face emerges from the window frame, looking down at you with a pitying frown for a few long moments. Andrew’s face appears then, cutting off him and everything bright above, and dragging you very suddenly down into warm darkness.

“H…hey. Hey, do you hear me?” he asks, voice strained with held-back tears. It’s too dark to make out anything but the tunnel’s exit, but you feel Andrew’s gloved hands carefully touching your throbbing skull, getting caught in your blood-soaked hair. “God, that’s…it’s bad. That…fucking bastard.”

You recover from your stun enough to piece together what had just happened. Alva was chasing you up the Hullabaloo tent stairs, and landed a shock of polarity right as you vaulted the upstairs window. It had stunned you, and instead of dropping back to the floor, you fell uncontrolled to the cobblestone below. And you’d landed right on your head.

“It was…accident,” you slur, trying to give some comfort. Alva leaving you two be now was testament to that, you muse.

“I don’t care if it was an accident!” Andrew shouts. “Your…your head is wide open. I think…I think this is….” Andrew drifts off, tracing his fingers around one aching spot on the back of your head. You lose his sense of touch in a particular area, but don’t understand what that means, exactly. Your face feels a little stiff where the blood is beginning to dry. “I can’t fix this.” The pain grows more and more unbearable as he talks.

“Don’t go,” you whimper, before you can stop yourself. You try to lift your arms at all, to grab onto him, but they’re dead and twitchy at your sides.

“I’m not! I’m not going anywhere, you idiot,” Andrew says. His words are followed by a snotty-sounding sniffle, and a bone-crushing hug as he spoons you in the dark, claustrophobic tunnel. The match continues above, producing a myriad of fading sounds. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry….”

Andrew speaks right into your ear, but his voice slips into the far-off distance.

Luchino Diruse

Luchino’s hand is gripping your throat, but neither of you are having any fun with it this time.

Hot blood—your blood—seeps between his clawed fingers no matter how much he tries to stifle it. He’s trying his best, he really is, but crushing your windpipe in the process would hardly help, would it?

“I’m going to patch you up, just hang on,” he says while hanging over you. His voice wavers. Beads of sweat roll down his face. Grimness lines his sharp features, not due just to the mangled state of your jugulars, but to the fact that his alternate-self’s teeth had been the ones to rip them out.

Even in your bloodless haze you can guess what’s going through his mind. Luchino is proud of his research, mostly proud of his physical changes, and quite friendly with the “evil reptilian.” So why did this happen to you? Everyone knew a predator drive came with his evolution. No one knew that meant so little self-control that he’d ravage his own lover…and then, worse, leave you there.

“Lu—!” You try to call his name, but the shredded muscles of your throat spasm and cramp. Blood chokes and bubbles behind your lips, runs from the corner of your mouth.

“Stop—stop talking,” he snaps in a whisper. “Conserve your oxygen.” But that’s already long-gone, you think. The sky overhead is a whirlpool, the ground beneath you swimming.

You reach up with a shaking hand and cup his scaled cheekbone, drawing his eyes away from some gauze he’d produced. (You both knew they wouldn’t help, but Luchino never did dismiss the impossible.)

“Sss…’kay,” you manage to croak out. He didn’t do this. He couldn’t have stopped this. You need him to know that before you vanish for a while. His face crumples up with displeasure…and then starts to slacken. His hands loosen too and the blood flows freely. The corners of your vision grow fuzzy as Luchino leans down and gives you a soft kiss.

“We’ll talk about this more later. I’ll see you tomorrow, dear,” he says, voice ushering you to sleep.

#idv x reader #identity v x reader #andrew kreiss x reader #luchino diruse x reader #emil x reader #reader x emil x ada #idv patient #idv gravekeeper #idv professor

[chawawanya]

eepy

#andluca #lucadrew #identity v fanart #identity v #andrew kreiss #luca balsa #idv gravekeeper #idv prisoner

[t0bey]

Coa 6 gang in a haunted house, what could go wrong

#identity v #idv #ganji gupta #joker idv #andrew kreiss #melly plinius #anne lester #annemelly #if you squint #idv batter #idv weeping clown #idv gravekeeper #idv entomologist #idv toy merchant #my art

[ronica-heart]

They are such siblings Actually, I drew this for one little silli goofy edit

#fanart #idv #identity v #idv gravekeeper #andrew kreiss #мор утопия #pathologic #pathologic 2 #Grace #Ласка

[heartshapedbubble]

frederick and andrew with an s/o that loves giving them words of affirmation and acts of service??

here you go anon!!💞

frederick kreiburg and andrew kreiss with a s/o whose love language is words of affirmation/acts of service hcs🎼🕸

frederick kreiburg🎼

he's not as anxious as andrew, absolutely, but the exact same question runs around in both of their minds...

"do i really deserve this? why me, out of all people?" he wonders, even asking you directly, but he shall accept your affection nonetheless, out of appreciation and good manners

always feels guilty as he doesn't know how to repay you for your kindness, so in response to your kind words and acts he never forgets to shower you in praise

i'd say that he, when giving out affection, is bigger on the act-of-service and quality time part, at least on the surface, so he finds taking you out for dinner or opera the best way to thank you, refusing your pleas to at least split the bill

the time and moment(s) when yours' and his words of affection hit the hardest are during the dead hours of the night, cloaked behind the wine red curtains of his bed, your bodies intertwined with each other and his brain numbed out to nothing but the vibrations of your voice whispering praise into his skin, him pressing his lips onto your temples and combing through your hair with his fingers

like any artist, he's starving for praise - although, obviously, he won't ever admit it as he's well-mannered - and will cherish every single compliment or affirmation you give to him, never forgetting to get back at you with one when you least expect it from him

andrew kreiss🕸

ashamed and his face completely pink the first time you insist on helping him with reading labels or you compliment his hairdo that day - not going to lie, he's going to become a bit selfish and start craving it even more, going to extreme lengths just to hear some more gentle praise seep out of your mouth or to feel the softness of your palm through his leather gloves as you lead the way

the sudden ego stroke is new yet so incredibly addictive to him to the point he might become clingy or way more affectionate than he usually is, not wanting to let go of this daydream he's living in

in response to your affection - he obviously has to shower you with twice as much love and care, no? it's the only reasonable thing to do in his eyes

as much as he's determined to get back at you he's still incredibly shy in delivery, muttering it out nervously and maybe even rushing whatever he wants to help you with in fear that stretching it out will increase the chances of him embarrasing himself and ruining the image of him you have in your eyes

it's scary, leaning his head closer to your face to kiss it, complimenting your appearance that day, tending to your injuries in fear that he might mess up the wound even more and cause even more harm, gifting you some fruit he picked from the garden - brand new opportunities, leading to hundreds of both good and bad outcomes yet if it's for you, then he shall combat his fear of failure

as much as andrew seems naive due to his upbringing he doesn't trust people that easily and now that you gained his trust he's going to become very protective of you especially if you two end up in a match together, not letting the hunter (or the other survivors) get a single hit on you

#identity v #idv #idv headcanons #identity v headcanons #idv imagines #idv fanfic #idv x reader #identity v x reader #identity v x you #idv scenarios #frederick idv #idv frederick #identity v frederick #idv composer #composer idv #identity v composer #frederick kreiburg #idv gravekeeper #idv grave keeper #idv andrew kreiss #idv andrew #identity v gravekeeper #identity v grave keeper #identity v andrew kreiss #identity v andrew #andrew idv #andrew kreiss #grave keeper idv #gravekeeper