#“you're not delivering a perfect body to the grave!”
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Whumptober day 25:
"You're not delivering a perfect body to the grave."
Storm | buried alive | "they're not breathing!"
Fandom: mha
Prompts used: All
Alright so I know I always put Denki is storm situations, its tradition at this point. But this ones slightly different! Anywho the thing at the end that seems random- I'm rewatching Danny Phantom so its a reference to a character in that. So yeah :){
TW for Temporary character death, Avalanches, Injuries
…
The snowy mountain was beautiful, if not freezing frickin cold. Sero huddles closer to the fire, closer to his friends' sides, because he was not made for cold thank you. Though from everyone's shivering, he thinks none of them were, even Kirishima had bundled up this time round.
It was supposedly a training retreat, though it was turning more into a vacation. Their teachers had a schedule, but as soon as they'd arrived, Denki had twitched. They'd long since learned what Denkis fidgets meant, and that twitch indicated too much charge in the air.
A storm was brewing.
Of course, the roads were already a mess, they'd hunkered down as the Pro's called for back up, Denki wrapped in an insulated blanket, as they simply waited. It had been calm, shivering around the fire as they had been. Peaceful almost.
As is their life however, an attack is always imminent. One moment they're huddled around the fire, the next, they've been split off from their classmates and are running for their lives. One wrong move could have an avalanche or slippery slope, or any number of bad things.
"Just one trip!" Sero calls, chest heaving puffs of white fog.
"I don't think they are up for a chat about scheduling their attacks, Sero." Mina calls in return, the best of their group with the slippery terrain.
"Unless the next words out of your idiot mouths are helpful to our situation, shut up!" Bakugo's yell is far quieter than usual, eyes on the snowy mountain peaks above them.
"Yeah, You're not delivering a perfect body to the grave!" Denki adds, a smirk in his voice despite the trembling undertone, his hair sticking up with static.
"Lame Kami!" Mina boos, teasing quality lacing it.
"I was talking about Kirishima." With an added tongue sticking out, Denki has the three laughing, Bakugo only deigning a rolled eye- which was basically a laugh!
Their fun is halted as Denki does a full body shiver, arms jerking as sparks dance along his skin before he reigns them in.
"Storms coming in fast!" He warns, the villains- floating on some weird holographic disk above them, fling another flurry of green blasts at them.
"I don't think they care, Denki!" Sero dodges to the left to move the blond as well, narrowly missing getting fried.
The sky and mountain seem to rumble as one, the villains cackle as a wave of white begins its tumble down the mountain.
"Shit."
Bakugo blasts a dent into the powder they stand on, they roll into the alcove moments before the avalanche, they lose sight of each other and everything else as white and darkness descend on them.
Panic hits first.
They're alone, the alcove apparently being big enough for them to be divided.
There's frantic digging, only accomplishing the packing of the snow to give them a little space, but any further and more snow falls through the hole. There's feet of snow on top of them, and more coming as the storm lies overhead.
"H-hello!?" Minas voice is faint, there's a tremble to it, fear settling deep in her gut.
The others' voices rise to meet hers one by one, Kirishima, Sero, and Bakugo, with varying levels of their own panic. Bakugo would sound angry to anyone who didnt know him, but in the cold where sweat was near nigh, and in an enclosed space to boot, well they were all freaking out.
Denki listens for only a moment, he carefully sets his own panic aside, something large and heavy was weighing on his legs keeping him pinned, he had barely been able to carve a space for his head. With a trembling hand, he reached up to his head piece, he had to hope that the excess amount of charge he'd built up while they waited would be enough to fuel this thing until help arrived.
There's static for a moment, then voices cutting in and out, he doesn't put in the energy to listen, carefully spaces his words as he relays their situation. He keeps the flow of electricity steady as he finally calls out to his friends.
"Well I suppose this will have to be our snow fort for now."
It falls short, even for him, but he keeps the tremble from his voice and hears his friends' panicked rambling cut off.
"I feel like we're in Brother Bear 2." He adds when he gets no response, "the one with the little baby raccoon? Anyway, they are on a mountain at some point and shit goes down, but they make it out okay, bonded stronger and everything. Could go for some smores though, I don't really do roots…" he trails off, wracking his brain for something else to talk about.
"Denki. We've literally been buried alive, and you're thinking about Disney and food??" Sero sounds incredulous even through the dense snow.
"What else am I gonna talk about? The weather? Sports??? Have you met me? I could be singing right now but I'm sparing myself the headache that will come from your yelling, you should be thanking me!" Denki winces as the thing on him shifts, he grits his teeth to hold off the shout of pain.
"I like Brother Bear… Kenai was so manly." Kirishima sounds signifigantly calmer, and Denki thanks whoever doesn't hate him up there.
"If a fuckin bear finds us, we'll have other things to worry about."
Denki would never say it aloud, but hearing the Bakugo Katsuki sound petulant was still so astounding to him. He was honestly honored to be one of the few to hear it. And he would definitely take it over his panicked breathing any day.
"~Tell everybody I'm on my way…~" Minas soft voice fills the space, and one by one they join, singing a bit louder to cover Bakugo's voice lest he drop out of the bonding moment.
Denki tries to keep talking, to keep them all grounded, but his lungs refuse to feel full. He has his hands pressed into his arm pits, most of his focus is on keeping the charge going to the headpiece, he wonders idly if his dwindling shivers are a bad thing.
"Denki… does your comm work?" One of them- he can't tell which- asks. The first person to mention the device.
"Ye… bad signal… but they should be… coming." He has to take too many breaths to complete the sentence.
"Are you okay?"
"F…fine. Just… cold." He'd lost feeling to his toes at some point, the fingers that weren't numb before this trip have gone stiff, despite his best efforts to keep them warm.
His body tingles, his quirk is being weird in the poor conduction known as snow. He's surprised a signal got through at all, especially since air seems to escape him.
"Hang in there Denks, try and move around, motion will create friction!" Sero tells him helpfully.
Denki would love to move, if he was able.
"R-right. T-thanks." He falls quiet again, the others murmurs surround him and he finds his eyes slipping closed.
The body will automatically try to shut down to conserve or protect itself…
Hm he wonders if he got that from a book…
"Denki?" Kirishima's voice shakes, they'd had no response for a while now. Bakugo had started digging, in the vague direction they assumed he was in, but with so much snow piled on top of them, he was only succeeding in making his hands cold- despite the special gloves he wore.
"fuCK!" Bakugos frustration is palpable, they were sure the mountain would be rubble by now had he been able to sweat.
Mina's acid had only dropped the temperature of her little hole, the single drop had been enough to convince her to stop, she had just gotten her shivers back to a milder teeth chattering.
Sero felt useless with his tape, he had taped the gaps of his winter gear to trap as much heat as he could, but with no way to do the same for his friends, and no way to use it in an escape, he felt a loathing that burned in his gut.
Kirishima was glad for the gear he'd been convinced- re; forced- to wear. He'd be a popsicle by now otherwise. He wanted nothing more than to pound through this snow, but the dangerous rumbles of the weight on top of them kept him still. He was tempted to test it anyway with Denkis lack of response though.
As they all debate doing just that, a brief heat warms their heads.
"Did… you guys feel that?" Sero calls, anxiously wondering if this is how death starts.
"Yeah… so unless we're all dying-"
"Someone's above us, using fire!"
They let it sink in for half a second, before they're shouting with what little energy they have. The heat comes again, water drips on them as snow melts above, but they could care less as finally light peeks into their dugouts.
When they have freedom to move, they dig, towards the space they know has to be Denki's, fervent movements stiff but quick as they look for blond.
"Here!!!" There's a shrillness to Minas voice, her digging taking on a gentler motion.
They convene, digging-
Hands hit something solid.
Mina uncovers his face, they find his torso, a rock- a boulder- lays on top of his legs.
Despite that, his face is rather serene, tinged blue, his arms crossed over his chest-
"He's not breathing!"
Todoroki has hopped into the hold, Aizawa behind him only a couple paces. They move into action, Aizawa barking orders to get the teen freed, for Todoroki to warm him as slowly as possible, to start chest compressions.
They thank their hero training, as they fall into auto pilot, a blankness hitting them as they simply do as told- because if they lose h… if Denki doesn't… he has to be fine.
He has to be-
Several agonizing minutes.
A spark that shocks everyone touching him, a gasp,
"'Hills like White Elephants'!" The hoarse call startles them, barely a voice at all, but so Denki it hurts.
He was okay.
#whumptober 2023#no.25#“you're not delivering a perfect body to the grave!”#lyric#storm#buried alive#“they're not breathing!”#my hero academia#fic#temporary character death#avalanche#injuries#angst#denki angst#bakusquad#mina angst#sero angst#kirishima angst#bakugou angst
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Perfect Body to the Grave
Warnings: captivity, buried alive, suffocation, cpr, unclear character status
Team Leader stumbled in the mud as they frantically searched for the stone that Whumper said would mark where they buried Teammate One just over an hour ago. The rain came down cold and hard on their back as they tried to look for the stone.
"They were alive when I put them there, Team Leader. Would be a shame if you got there and they weren't," Whumper had said as Teammate Two dragged them to a cell.
Team Leader had wasted no time hurrying to where they hoped to find Teammate One. They hadn't accounted for the storm creating so much mud it would be hard to see a stone. They sunk to their knees as they realized that they wouldn't find the stone in all this mud. Their knee collided with something hard and flat and it had their teeth zinging.
The stone.
"Over here!" They called to Teammate Two and Teammate Three as they started to clear the mud. It would take the whole team to clear all the mud from the top of the casket.
"Hurry, they can't have much air left," Teammate Two said as they started to shovel with a frenzy.
"We'll make it," Teammate Three muttered. "We have to make it."
Team Leader agreed. They had to make it. They couldn't not make it. Teammate One was counting on them. The three team members were sweating by the time they had cleared the mud enough that the top of the casket was cleared.
"We're here, Teammate One, we're here," Team Leader muttered as they swung open the lid of the casket.
"No!" Teammate Two's cry came from somewhere on Team Leader's right.
Teammate One lay on their back, eyes closed, their mouth slightly agape. Their face was pale and their lips tinged blue. "Not like this, Teammate One, not like this," Team Leader muttered as they leaned over and to listen to see if Teammate One took a breath.
"They're not breathing!" Teammate Three whispered as Team Leader moved once more.
"Not like this," Team Leader muttered as they pressed their fingers to the pulse in Teammate One's neck. But no beat came.
Without missing a beat, Team Leader began chest compressions. "Come on, Teammate One, come on. Come back to us. Take a breath. Open your eyes. We're here. We've got you."
Teammate Two leaned down and gave two quick rescue breaths. "Please, Teammate One," they begged, "come back to us."
Teammate Three took Teammate One's cold hand in theirs, fingers going to the stilled pulse in Teammate One's wrist. They didn't say anything as tears streamed down their face.
Team Leader couldn't stop. Couldn't bear to think that this was it. That the team had failed Teammate One. That Whumper had won. That Teammate One was....but they couldn't think it. They continued to pump Teammate One's chest with everything they had. "Breathe, Teammate One. Come on. Breathe!"
#serickswrites#whump#whump writing#whumpblr#whump community#tw captivity#tw buried alive#tw suffocation#tw cpr#tw unclear character status#whumptober#whumptober 2023#whumptober day 25#“you're not delivering a perfect body to the grave”#prompt: storm#prompt: buried alive#prompt: “they're not breathing”#queue
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Whumptober 2023 Day 25
|| "You're not delivering a perfect body to the grave."
Winter's Tale (2014)
#whumptober2023#no.25#you're not delivering a perfect body to the grave#winter's tale#gifs#death tw#filmedit#moviegifs#whumpedit#fyeahmovies#russell crowe#colin farrell#cinemapix#cinematv#userfilm
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day 25
She wondered too, you know. She wasn't an idiot. The more people asked her how come God, her deadbeat half-rate Most Divine of the Divine father, of all people, hadn't been able to bring her back more completely, the more she circled the drain.
Kiriona was not here to circle the drain. She was here to finally get to fucking use her hard-won status for…something. Anything. A consolation prize for being partway alive.
So when Mumfucker Prime had the gall to keep looking at her askance after the most frigid bitch of the century had disappeared with her– with Harrow, who somehow had finally gotten whacked back into the proper body and then promptly buggered off– anyway, it got on her last deadened nerve. Which is why it made perfect sense to whip around and demand, “What, you could’ve done it better?”
Pyrrha’s face blanked. “Done what, kid?”
“Don’t call me that. Done better with–” she gestured– “this.”
“‘Course not.”
“Then stop looking at me like that.”
“What do you think I’m looking at you like?”
“Like– I don’t want your fucking pity.”
“I don’t pity you,” Pyrrha said levelly. “I do wonder what John’s endgame is.”
“What?”
“You’re not– well. He’s not delivering a perfect body to the grave."
“What.”
“If you don’t want pity, don’t get mad when someone’s straight with you. I’ve said it before: he’s done the bare minimum. Why?”
And if that didn’t fucking taste like ashes in her mouth, the idea of her tattered soul being a glorified meatsack propeller and not much else, she didn’t know what else could. Why did she try? Why would anyone make the mistake of engaging Pyrrha Dve and her myriad of experience being a wrecking ball?
Pyrrha was looking at her closely. “It’s a raw deal, kid, but it’s not on you. You shouldn’t have had to go through any of this.”
Kiriona didn’t bother pushing back this time, and she didn’t want to think about why.
#whumptober2023#no.25#lyric#“you're not delivering a perfect body to the grave”#the locked tomb#fanfic#fanfiction#tlt fanfic#tlt fanfiction#the locked tomb fanfiction#lira does a thing#gideon nav#pyrrha dve#kiriona gaia
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No. 25 "You're not delivering a perfect body to the grave."
Storm | Buried Alive | "They're not breathing!"
Part 1 | Part 2
Fao had gotten to the point where he was happy enough with the packing, that the bleeding was at least slightly under control. He’d managed to bag painkillers and enough kit to start an IV, and he quickly set about getting access. “You’ll have to forgive me for this one mate, it’s been a while.” The lighting was shit, too, but Fao had always been decent at getting a vein, and managed to get a cannula in, feeling quite proud of himself. He needed more hands, though. He gave the morphine, scrawled the dose and time on Jamie’s arm with the pen he was glad he had in his pocket, and went back to the wound.
Jamie was beyond glad for the pain relief, the morphine threatening to pull him under. He didn't fight it as much, allowing the haze to take over as he drifted.
“That’s it.” He murmured, trying desperately to sort the bleeding. Where was Harrison? He should’ve been back by now.
Things were rapidly hurtling towards the point of no return. Fao knew that as much as Jamie did. At least with the pain relief on board he felt less bad trying to get on top of the bleeding now Jamie was more out of it than not. With Harrison nowhere to be seen, probably injured or worse, Fao had to push on. The half broken obs machine he’d managed to get his hands on alarmed at him, progressively getting more and more frustrated, but as Fao watched his blood pressure sink even more, he knew he had to do something. The packing just wasn’t doing enough, he need to find the source before Jamie bled out on him, and Fao owed him far too much to let that happen.
Rummaging around in the supplies he’d gathered, he found more packing materials, and thankfully a scalpel. He didn’t get any response from Jamie when he spoke to him, though he was still breathing, and he said a prayer to a god he’d never believed in before he made the incision.
“Fuck it.” He muttered to himself. “They’re not delivering a fucking perfect body to the grave, not on my watch.”
With better visibility, he could at least pack more widely, try and see what was causing all the fuss. Jamie’s breathing was shit, but he was still breathing, and that was good enough for Fao. He had no blood, nothing to transfuse, and he could barely see anything, but he had to do something. He couldn’t just leave him, couldn’t stand idly by. There were other patients, other staff too, but Fao owed Jamie an awful lot, and he wasn’t about to walk away. “Come on Jamie, don’t give up on me now. I’m not giving up on you.”
After what felt like hours, scrabbling about to find something to fix, Fao finally found the stubborn vessel that was causing the bulk of the bleeding, and managed to tie it off. It wasn’t a definitive solution, anything but, but it was what they had. By that point, he’d managed to find someone to help him, and they’d got a bag of fluids, though they had nothing to hang it off, so Fao was stood holding it, blood everywhere, hand tight around it to try and get just that little bit more volume in. It was a hail mary, but the world had completely fallen apart. There was nothing else to do but hail marys.
#whumptober 2023#No. 25 “You're not delivering a perfect body to the grave.”#oc#fic#faolan blackwood#jamie#whump writing#whump prompt#field medicine#makeshift surgery#field surgery#whump#drastic measures#fao's for sure glad of his training lol
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Whumptober Day 25
Eye of a Hurricane
Characters: Nya (and Jay if you squint again)
Prompts: "You're not delivering a perfect body to the grave," storm, buried alive, "they're not breathing!"
Length: 1,440
I had to cut this one a bit short bc I have homework to do, but I'm so close to being caught up! I hope I can manage it today, and it only took 26 days lmao
#ninjago#lego ninjago#jay walker#nya jiang#whumptober 2023#whumptober day 25#'you're not delivering a perfect body to the grave'#storm#buried alive#'they're not breathing!'#whump#whump fic#ninjago fanfiction
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Chapters: 1/2
Fandom: Marvel, Marvel (Comics), Dark Avengers (Comic)
Relationships: Akihiro | Daken/Lester | Benjamin "Dex" Poindexter
Characters: Akihiro | Daken (Marvel), Lester | Benjamin "Dex" Poindexter, Karla Sofen (cameo), Ares (Marvel) (cameo), Norman Osborn (mentionned)
Additional Tags: Whumptober, Whumptober 2023, Prompts 25 to 31, Bullsnikt - Freeform, Team Dynamics, Enemies to teammates to lovers (kinda), Internalized Homophobia, Psychopaths In Love, crumbling relationship, Feelings-challenged characters
Series: Part 4 of OLD DARK DAYS
Summary: They need each other more than ever. Are ready to give and take more than ever. And yet, they still crack at the seams.
(*proud tired gull* ALL done. 31 prompts in one Bullsnikt series. Posting short epilogue tomorrow. The series will probably have a fifth installment, but not right yet, I need a break.)
#whumptober#whumptober2023#no.25#no.26#no.27#no.28#no.29#no.30#no.31#you're not delivering a perfect body to the grave#storm#buried alive#they're not breathing#sometimes i get so tired i don't even know myself#seeing double#working to exhaustion#you look awful#matches#scars#let me see#we might not make it to the morning so go on and tell me now#bloddy knife#sacrifice#you'll have to go through me#i only sink deeper the deeper i think#scented candles#what happened to me#it's okay just to say i'm not okay#borrowed clothing#bridal carry
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"You're not delivering a perfect body to the grave"
When he wakes up, everything is dark. He can smell blood and wood and damp soil, which makes no sense. He was in a county holding cell, and unless he’s somehow been hit so hard he’s been thrown back into the past in some wild west jail, he should be smelling metal and piss and weed.
And if he’s in the infirmary, it should smell like sour chemical cleaners.
His teeth ache. He’s pretty sure he’s probably missing a few more now, given how many times he was hit in the face, but he was pretty groggy after the first couple, so he doesn’t actually remember.
It’s his stomach that’s the worst. Someone had decided their brand of justice was to stab him the way he’s supposed to have stabbed that kid to death. Whatever contraband shiv they’d managed to get their hands on had only lasted through six times, not the eleven they were aiming for, but it had been effective nonetheless.
When he passed out on the cell floor he’d been bleeding from multiple wounds and he’d definitely had a severe concussion if not a skull fracture.
He hadn’t expected to wake up again.
He was hoping it was over. Why would they even bother and try to save his life? He’s going down for a third strike, murder two this time. He figured whoever found him would probably have been happy someone saved them and the taxpayers paying his room and board for a life sentence.
He doesn’t think it should be this dark, no matter where he is. Unless that hit to the head damaged his eyesight. Panicky, he blinks a few times, but the only thing visible above him is blackness.
Somewhere in all of that, he feels a dull ache, not exactly in his stomach, more like it’s in the core of himself as a whole. It’s not the kind of pain that comes with a stabbing. It’s more like hunger. An ache gnawing from the inside out.
He runs his tongue over his teeth, testing for loose or missing ones. Oddly enough, they’re all accounted for as far as he can tell. His tongue catches on a canine, maybe a broken one from the sudden throbbing in it and the way he feels the skin tear open.
And then there's blood in his mouth and some kind of feral growl that doesn’t sound human in his throat.
The ache inside explodes into a tearing need, and he snarls again, scrabbling at the wood overhead with newly sharp nails, as vicious as the teeth pressing against his lips.
Wood. Coffin. Earth.
He’s been buried.
He was dead.
He’s not dead anymore.
A visceral panic joins the hunger, and he can only think of one thing. Getting out of this place. He has to get free. He has to feed.
He brings his arms down to his sides and then slams his hands upward, as hard as he can manage. Some part of him realizes, dimly, that he should be only bruising his palms. Instead, the whole board over his head moves.
Wood splinters with a sharp crack and he can smell damp earth and oil and engine exhaust and...sweat. Humans. Blood.
He kicks and smashes his fists against the wood over his head until nails tear loose with screeches and splinters rain down mixed with stale dirt. He has to get out, has to get to the surface.
He claws the dirt away in handfuls, ignoring its ashy oily taste on his tongue. He'll wash it away soon.
You can read this story and more on my Worldanvil here!
@catwingsathena @nade2308 @whumptober
#whumptober 2023#no.25#you're not delivering a perfect body to the grave#buried alive#death mention#major character undeath#original character#shane barrett
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#whumptober 2023#no.25#you're not delivering a perfect body to the grave#transformers#character moodboard#moodboard#arcee#idw g1
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Whumptober 2023 - Day 25 - The Shadow of Death
I finally wrote the story of how Kamaria got The Scar. This is canon verse, but essentially this same scene happens in every universe except college and royal. Mind the tags.
Taglist: @painful-pooch
Masterlist
No. 25: “You’re not delivering a perfect body to the grave.”
Contains: lady whump, self harm, panic attack, implied threats of noncon, blood
.
.
Everything is spinning. Kamaria came into her own tent to get away from everyone, to feel safe, but she isn’t safe at all. Only a piece of canvas separates her from all those men. She can’t catch her breath and the ground keeps shifting beneath her feet and blen, any one of them could just walk in here anytime they want. She isn’t safe. She’ll never be safe.
beautiful beautiful
exotic
gorgeous
beautiful
enticing beautiful
Clutching her head, she struggles to pull in air and sinks onto her bed. No. No, not her bed, she can’t sit there, not after what he said earlier. She can almost feel his hands on her now, pulling at her, stroking her skin. Catapulting to her feet, she scrubs at her arms, the back of her neck, her chest. All the places he touched. She can’t erase the feeling, though, no matter how hard she tries.
beautiful
beautiful
beautiful
beautiful
beautiful
beautiful
beautiful
She can’t scream, no matter how much she wants to. They’ve trained that out of her for the most part over the last four years, even if it was unintentional on their part. She thought they’d trained crying out of her, too, but right now there are tears dripping down her cheeks and what little breath she can draw is coming out in broken sobs.
She doesn’t want to be beautiful. She never asked to be beautiful, never gave a thought to what anyone might think she looked like until human men started taking notice of her. They’ve spent the last years proving themselves untrustworthy in every other way, but she never realized just how horrible they were. Until recently. Until she changed from a child to a woman, and they decided they had a right to put their hands on her and threaten to -
Kamaria lashes out at the few possessions in her tent, scattering them to the ground, picking them up and throwing them again when that doesn’t at all satisfy the stabbing pain in her chest. There’s a pile of armor in the corner that some officer ordered her to shine and she’s about to go after that, too, when she catches sight of her reflection in the breastplate.
Stopping short, she stares for a moment before dropping to her knees in front of it. That’s her. Brown skin, not as dark as her mother’s, green eyes like her father, loose brown curls like her grandmother, and the pointed ears that define her as Vaya.
exotic
exotic
beautiful
stunning
beautiful
Is she beautiful, really? She doesn’t know. But beauty is a curse, at least as a Vaya woman among human men.
The longer she gazes at her own face, thinking about what they must see when they look at her, the sicker she feels. She can’t keep doing this. The touching, the whispered descriptions of what they want to do to her, the images that burn behind her eyelids of her friends, her family being snatched by soldiers and pinned to the ground…
She can’t breathe.
Something has to change.
The knife from her hip is in her hand without her realizing she’s drawn it. She stares down at it, then back up at her reflection. Her hand shakes uncontrollably as she brings the tip to her face, resting it just below her hairline. It doesn’t break skin yet. She just holds it there, trembling, tears still leaking from her eyes.
beautiful beautiful beautiful beautiful
NO!
The blade digs in. She drags it down her forehead, between her eyebrows, alongside her nose and mouth. Blood wells up in its wake, and begins spilling down over her left eye and the bridge of her nose. For a moment she leaves the tip there, on the right side of her mouth, just watching the deep red Vaya blood as it drips.
The knife falls from her hand and clatters against the breastplate before hitting the dirt. Still, she doesn’t look away. The cut isn’t clean, it’s messy from an unsteady hand, but that’s what she wants. She wants it to scar. She wants it to be ugly, to mar her face forever, to make everyone who sees her wrinkle up their noses and walk away.
Her tears stop falling. The men’s voices echoing in her mind finally grow quiet. The cut stings badly, but it’s nothing compared to the pain she’s used to and it seems to take away the pain from her chest and the churning in her stomach.
Kamaria takes a full breath for the first time since entering the tent, shaky but under her control.
She won’t be beautiful anymore.
#whumptober2023#no.25#lyric#you're not delivering a perfect body to the grave#original content#fic#self harm tw#panic attack tw#threats of noncon tw#implied noncon tw#blood tw#shadow of death#kamaria the assassin#lady whump#lady whumpee#assassin oc#high fantasy#fantasy oc#fantasy species#whump series
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Whumptober 2023 Day 25
Still working on getting these out, so enjoy some Stiles whump! :D
Teen & Up - Gen, F/M (Minor) - Teen Wolf
Grave Danger
Beacon Hills had gotten too weird for Stiles. Werewolves were one thing, and he dealt just fine with the kanima. But he drew the line at zombies. Zombies were a step too far for Stiles, and as far as he was concerned, Beacon Hills could go to hell if it wasn’t there already. Of course, abandoning his hometown would be a lot easier when he wasn’t being marched toward the cemetery by said zombies.
Stiles glanced around at them, shivering at the cold emanating from their pale corpses. He didn’t know why he was still alive. From what they’d seen, these zombies weren’t like the ones in the movies. They couldn’t transform others with a bite, but that didn’t mean they weren’t dangerous. Undead people who could keep moving even after being shot or mutilated could do a lot of damage with their blunt teeth and long nails. Stiles shuddered at the memory of what those poor people in town had looked like after the first attack. Humans could do such horrible things when their humanity and souls were taken from them.
Which begs the question: Why is he alive and not in pieces?
The only answer he could come up with could have been a better one. Because if they weren’t hurting him, that meant they had to be controlled by someone. And that meant that whoever was controlling them wanted Stiles alive. That thought was as relieving as it was terrifying for what it could mean.
The grass was damp from the night air as Stiles was marched into the cemetery, the dew seeping into his sneakers. The smell of freshly overturned dirt soon reached him as they rounded a few sculpted bushes, and Stiles’ stomach dropped as he saw the slender pit in front of him. It was a newly dug grave, and in the low lighting of the cemetery, Stiles could see a name emblazoned on the headstone above it. ’Mieczyslaw Stlinski.’
His feet felt rooted to the spot as he stopped short, a zombie bumping into him and grunting before it stilled.
Beside the grave, a man stood half-turned away from him, his face obscured by shadows. “So nice of you to join me, Miecyzslaw.” The man said, and Stiles started at the sound of his given name being perfectly pronounced.
“Who are you?” Stiles asked, a slight waver in his voice as his eyes helplessly trailed back to the gravestone and read the rest of the inscription. ‘Born April 8th, 1995, Died September 17th, 2011.’
A match flared, catching the stretch of the man’s grin as he lit a cigarette, taking a puff before releasing smoke into the air. “Let’s just say I’m an old friend of your father.”
“Yeah, I’m not buying that,” Stiles said, glancing at the zombies that flanked him. Their cold hands were gripping his arms, the touch sending shivers up and down his spine from more than just the cool temperature of their fingertips. He didn’t want to think about the rot and mold that composed a significant amount of their bodies.
The man laughed, shaking his head as he lifted his cigarette to his lips once more, the tip flaring red as he turned to face Stiles, pale light catching on his face.
Stiles’ eyes slowly widened in recognition of the man, the killer in front of him. “I remember your face. My dad busted you.”
“Heh, good memory, kid. Yeah, he got me dead to rights, put me behind bars.” Vince Davies, a local known for killing his girlfriend and her brother some nine years previous when Stiles was only six years old, said. “Good old, gold-hearted Deputy Stilinski,” He sneered. “Guess he’s the sheriff now, though, ain’t he?”
“He is. Busting your sorry mug definitely helped push him up the ladder to that promotion.” Stiles said, never one to play the meek and mild in such situations.
The man’s eye twitched, and he scowled at the mocking tone. “Yeah, well, while he was profiting from my misfortune, I spent nine years rotting in a stinking cell.” Vince snarled, tossing his cigarette away. “Do you know what maximum security is like, kid? It’s like living in your grave, unable to do anything but sit there and rot.”
“It’s what you deserve for what you did,” Stiles told him, clenching his fists angrily as he recalled the old police file about the case. He’d only gotten a glimpse of it before his mom found him, but the graphic pictures of mutilated bodies would linger in his mind for years to come, perhaps forever.
“Don’t preach to me about things that people deserve! They deserved to die!” The murderer shouted, striding forward a few steps and getting right into Stiles’ face. “Just like your father’s going to.”
Stiles pulled his head back a bit, grimacing at the nicotine-filled breath that blew across his face. “If you want him dead, then where do I fit in on all of this? Answer me that. If you just wanted to kill me for revenge, shouldn’t he be here?”
Vince grinned, a glint in his eyes that dripped terror down Stiles’ spine. The man pulled back, stepping to the side of the grave, his hands clasped behind his back as he stared into the pit. “I had a cellmate in jail. Crazy guy, he was. Most thought he wasn’t all there mentally, but he taught me things. I learned things about the outside world, this world that’s so much more than the idiot populace thinks it is. You’ve seen it. This world has werewolves and creatures that defy logic. It has mystical and magical elements that most can’t begin to fathom. Few ever learn of these things, but I did. Before he died, my cellmate taught me everything I needed to know about bringing the dead back to life.”
Necromancy, the word sounded in Stiles’ mind, and he shuddered at the name of the unethical practice.
“Now that I'm out, I'm going to get my revenge, and you're going to help me, Miecyzslaw. At first, I planned to use your dead mother for this.”
Stiles’ anger flared at the thought of the man resurrecting his mother as one of the mindless zombies, and he struggled against the cold grip on his arms.
“Too bad she was cremated.” Vince lamented. “It would have been brilliant to have your father killed by the woman he loved. But I suppose he'll be just as devastated when he sees your corpse come to kill him.”
With a flick of his fingers, the deranged man called his zombie puppets into action. Stiles cried out as they started shoving him toward his grave. “Hey, wait, hold on! Come on, you don't want to deliver a perfect body like mine to the grave!”
The undead paid him no mind, and as Vince laughed, Stiles was thrown into the hole. He landed on his stomach, getting a mouthful of dirt as the wind was knocked out of him. Something heavy dropped onto his legs, and as Stiles desperately started pushing himself up, another weight landed on his back, knocking him back down as he shouted in pain.
His hands scrambled in the loose dirt, searching for purchase, for something to grab for leverage. But the ground was too soft, and the objects on top of him were too heavy, leaving him trapped in the bottom of the grave.
“Sleep well, Miecyzslaw Stilinski. I’ll be seeing you soon.” Vince intoned above him, and Stiles screamed as dirt started to rain down on top of him.
The dirt built up swiftly as multiple zombies worked to fill the grave, and soon, Stiles’ screams turned to gasps of air as he struggled to lift his head above the silt, hands trying to push the dirt away from his head. Eventually, he stopped making noise at all as he tilted his head forward and tried with his hands to block the dirt from reaching his mouth, holding his breath as he attempted to form a pocket of air around his face.
Panic seized his chest, though, making it hard to think clearly and hold his breath for very long. There was no way out of this. No one knew Stiles had been taken, so no one was coming after him.
He had no idea how long he’d been buried when his meager air supply ran out, and Stiles held his breath like he was drowning, heart pounding in his ears and his head feeling ready to explode. In the utter darkness of his grave, Stiles lost consciousness, surrendering against his will to the inevitable.
*************************
Air forced its way into Stiles’ lungs, and he woke with a gasp of pain, rolling over and curling on his side as he coughed roughly before greedily inhaling oxygen-rich breaths. Beside him, someone let out a sound of relief, and when Stiles calmed slightly, he rolled back onto his back to blink up at Lydia and Peter kneeling next to him.
“I felt you die,” Lydia whispered, staring at him with wide eyes. “I felt you die, Stiles.”
“You brought me back.” Stiles rasped, staring up at her in shock, remembering the brief feel of soft lips against his right as he woke up. His chest ached as he breathed in, and his eyes drifted over to Peter and narrowed. “And you broke my ribs.”
“Cracked, you'll live,” Peter said, extending his hand.
Stiles grabbed the proffered hand and grunted as he was slowly pulled to his feet. He took in the sight around him as he stood, and his eyes widened. The cemetery was littered with corpses, most of them sans heads, and their puppeteer lay on the ground next to Stiles’ grave with deep slashes across his throat.
As Stiles’ eyes wandered away from the body, they lit on his grave, noticing the shovels beside a mound of dirt and the tracks formed in the soil where shovels were exchanged for bare hands. He looked back at Peter and Lydia as the former helped the latter to her feet, eyes flicking down to their dirt-stained hands, the former's also stained with blood. “You really saved my life. You killed them and dug me back up, knowing I was already dead. And you brought me back.”
Lydia straightened her skirt with shaky hands and exhaled before squaring her delicate shoulders. “Well, if there's one thing I know, it's that not all dead people stay dead.” She said, looking back at Peter.
Peter looked away, huffing a slight laugh. “We got to you before Davies could start the ritual, so you won’t turn into a zombie.”
Stiles nodded, some residual panic melting away at the reassurance. He gestured to the zombies on the ground. “What happened to them?” He asked, indicating their lack of heads and claw marks.
“I screamed,” Lydia said, her lips pressing together. A haunted look lingered in her eyes as they met Stiles’ gaze. “I screamed, and their heads exploded.”
Stiles blinked, glancing between her and Peter, his mouth opening and closing like a fish for a moment before his hands gently gripped her arms. “Oh my God, are you okay?”
“I don't know.” She admitted, pressing her lips together and shaking her head slowly.
“She'll be fine,” Peter told them, glancing toward the road. “Police are on their way. We shouldn't be here when they arrive.”
The two teens nodded and fell into step behind him as he led them out of the cemetery, Stiles’ arm around Lydia.
“I'm gonna have to tell my dad,” Stiles said as they left in Peter's car. “I'm not keeping this from him anymore.”
Peter looked back at him but said nothing, and in the silence that followed Stiles’ statement, sirens filled the night air.
#whumptober2023#no.25#lyric#you're not delivering a perfect body to the grave#buried alive#teen wolf#fic#death tw#zombies tw#horror tw#read on ao3#fanfiction#ao3#ao3 fanfiction#ao3 link#fanfic#ao3 fanfic#teen wolf fanfiction#teen wolf fanfic#stiles stilinski
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Doctor Hanahaki - The Memories that Never Return [23+25]
Doctor Hanahaki Prequel: Whumptober spinoff!
Whumptober day 23: Lyric Prompt and Whumptober day 25: Lyric Prompt.
~
It's gonna get me by the end of the night, but you won't let me deliver a perfect body to the grave
Bokuto thinks Akaashi is beautiful.
No, he knows Akaashi is beautiful. Inside and out, Akaashi Keiji is gorgeous and there is nobody else Bokuto Koutarou would rather spend the rest of his life with. Bokuto was imagining it now, a home, Bokuto on whatever professional team he was on with Akaashi in the stands, covered head to toe in team gear.
They couldn't lay in Akaashi's bed at home for now, but the hospital bed late at night worked. Just for now, Bokuto reminded himself. Then, Akaashi will be better. The two lay in Akaashi's hospital bed, Akaashi now much too small to take up an obnoxious amount of space. The night in young, the air is filled with hospital, but Akaashi and Bokuto lay in relative silence.
"I don't think I'm going to make it," Akaashi spoke, his head in Bokuto's chest. Words quiet, haunting. "Past your graduation... I don't think I'll survive."
Bokuto shook his head, running his fingers through Akaashi's hair. "No, don't speak like that. You're the strongest person I know, you'll be fine," Bokuto pulled his hand back, horrified as he saw strands of Akaashi's black hair caught in his fingers, not attached to his head. His hair was falling out. "You'll be fine, I know you will. You don't have to be at my graduation in person, I know it'll be too much for you, but you'll be here when I come with my cap and certificate."
"You don't get it," Akaashi turned around, Bokuto continuing to hold him close. "I'm dying, Bokuto," his eyes teared up as he gritted his teeth, sniffling and trying to hold back the emotions. "God- fuck. I might die tonight. I have to live every day thinking I won't wake up tomorrow. Do you know how hard that is?"
Bokuto remained silent. Akaashi laughed.
"At least I'll look good in my coffin."
"No you aren't," Bokuto forced Akaashi to face him, plastering an expression of strength. "You aren't going to be in a coffin anytime soon. Akaashi, please. Believing in yourself is half the battle."
"Keep telling yourself that."
"Akaashi," Bokuto hesitated. He wanted to kiss Akaashi's forehead, tell him it would be okay but even he was starting to not believe it. "We are the protagonists of the world." As if that was supposed to make it all better.
Akaashi sighed, closing his eyes as he leaned into Bokuto's touch. "It doesn't feel like we are anymore."
#whumptober2023#no.23#no.25#it's gonna get me by the end of the night#you're not delivering a perfect body to the grave#fandom#haikyuu#haikyuu!!#fanfiction#haikyuu bokuto#haikyuu akaashi#bokuto koutarou#akaashi keiji#hanahaki#doctor hanahaki prequel#bokuaka#angst#hospital
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Whumptober 2023 Masterlist
Swooning | 'How many fingers am I holding up?'
"I'll call out your name, but you won't call back." | "They don't care about you."
"Make it stop." | Journal
"I see the danger, It's written there in your eyes." | Cattle Prod
Debris | "It's Broken"
"It should have been me." | Made to watch
Alleyway
"I've got soul, but I'm not a solider." | Overcrowded ER
Mistaken Identity
"You said you'd never leave."
Red
Cold Compress
"Just hold on."
"I don't need your help."
"I'm fine."
Gurney
"Leave me alone."
"Hit them harder."
Floral Bouquet
"People don't change people, time does."
Restraints
Vehicular Accident
"Who's there?"
Neglect
"You're not delivering a perfect body to the grave" / Buried Alive / "They're not breathing." / Storm
Seeing Double
Scars
Bloody Knife
Scented Candle
"It's okay, just to say, I'm not okay."
"I thought I was getting better."
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Arsenal Recommendations
[disclaimer: i did not write any of the stories in these masterlists, full credit goes to the respective authors]
Key: *fluff, **angst, ***smut
* | ** climbing trees - oneshot
you get injured after a dare from Katie
Trigger Warnings: Injury
* moments & memories - oneshot
As a new addition to the arsenal women's team, you just want to make tiktoks with your new teammates.
* estrella - social media
you join arsenal with and take your shots at the 'pensioners'
* | ** don't let this darkness fool you - oneshot
it's a good thing you called them when you did
Trigger Warnings: depression, suicidal ideation
* | ** i could change up my body and change up my face -oneshot
the team notices you're different
Trigger Warnings: Eating disorder
* | ** creep - oneshot
the man on your train is creep
Trigger Warnings: creepy guy
* alone - oneshot
you're one of arsenal's newest signings and you're gonna be alone for the holidays
* little buddy - oneshot
three members of the team take you under their wing
* baby of the group - oneshot
you try to convince the team to let you have alcohol
Trigger Warnings: talks of alcohol
* | ** revival - oneshot
you have been struggling more than you'd ever admit.. when it becomes too much you attempt to take your life but your teammates refuse to let you kill yourself when you have so much more to live for.
Trigger Warnings: suicide attempt, pill overdose, cutting, severe depression
* flashbacks - oneshot
the team looks back on their time with you
* sticker chart - oneshot
you and kyra are the pranksters of the team... but what happens when you both take it too far and the arsenal parents separate you as result
* the decision - oneshot
you have to decide between joining the lionesses or the oranje leeuwinnen
* | ** kid - two parts
you join the arsenal women at 16 / you get injured in the derby against chelsea
Part 1 | Part 2
Trigger Warnings: injury in part 2
* sleepy medicine - oneshot
leah gives you sleepy medicine because you're sick
Trigger Warnings: NyQuil
* | ** shame - oneshot
some old tweets come out and it puts you between a rock and a hard place
Trigger Warnings: Internalised homophobia
* | leaves changing - oneshot
you can't go back home to the US
* | ** your worst enemy - two parts
your suffering with depression and you don't want your teammates to know
Part 1 | Part 2
Trigger Warnings: depression, mention of suicide (nothing happens tho), gets better in the second part
** "i've got a head full of chemicals" - oneshot
the team notices you struggling
Trigger Warnings: Self neglect
* | ** "you're not delivering a perfect body to the grave" - oneshot
you have a fear of thunderstorms
Trigger Warnings: panic attack + anxiety
* | ** homework help - oneshot
you're struggling with school and the team wants to get to the bottom of it
* | ** "but now the room is spinning" - oneshot
you heard the warnings before you saw the pitch invader
Trigger Warnings: Injury
* | ** "can you hear me?" - oneshot
you get injured on the pitch
Trigger Warnings: Injury
* | ** found family - oneshot
when you decide it’s a good idea to go out in the snow for the first time after training you suffer the consequences, and then suffer the consequences of trying to conceal your sickness
Trigger Warnings: sickness
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Whumptober Prompts Masterlist
TMNT 2003
Day 1: But Now This Room is Spinning While I'm Trying Just to Fill in all the Gaps
Day 6: Do or Die, You'll Never Make Me, because this World will Never Take My Heart
Day 7: I Paced Around for Hours on Empty, I Jumped at the Slightest of Sounds
Day 8: I've got a Soul, But I'm not a Soldier
Day 14: Feed me Poison, Fill me 'til I Drown
Day 18: I Tend to Deflect When I'm Feeling Threatened
Day 19: I'll Take One Final Step, All You Have to do is Make Me
Day 21: See the Chains Around my Feet
Day 23: It's Gonna Get Me by the End of the Night
Day 25: You're Not Delivering a Perfect Body to the Grave
TMNT 2012
Day 2: I'll Call out Your Name, But You Won't Call Back
Day 5: You Better Pray I Don't get up This Time
Day 9: Learning Everything Ain't What it Seems, That's the Thing About these Days
Day 15: I Don't Need You to Help Me, I Can Handle Things Myself
Day 16: Would You Lie With Me and Just Forget the World
Day 26: Sometimes I get so Tired, I Don't Even Know Myself
Day 27: You Drew Stars Around my Scars, but now I'm Bleeding
Day 28: We Might Not Make it to the Morning, so go on, Tell Me Now
ROTTMNT 2018
Day 3: Like Crying Out in Empty Rooms, With No One There Except the Moon
Day 17: You're the Lump in my Throat and the Knot in my Chest
Day 24: I've Got a Head Full of Chemicals, Mouth Full of Ridicule
Day 29: I Only Sink Deeper the Deeper I Think
Day 30: It's Okay Just to Say 'I'm Not Okay'
TMNT Mutant Mayhem 2023
Day 4: I See the Danger, It's Written There in Your Eyes
Day 11: All the Lights Going Dark and my Hope's Destroyed
Day 13: It Comes and Goes like the Strength in Your Bones
Day 31: I Thought that I was Getting Better
Crossovers
Day 10: Can't You See that You're Lost Without Me?
Day 12: I Haven't Slept in Days, But Who's Counting?
Day 20: People Don't Change People, Time Does
Day 22: They Never Saw Us Coming, 'til They Hit the Floor
#tmnt#tmnt fandom#fanfiction#tmnt fanfiction#ao3 fanfic#tmnt 2003#tmnt 2k3#tmnt 2k12#tmnt 2012#rottmnt#tmnt mm#whumptober#whumptober 2023#Sinner's Whumptober
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Whumptober Day 25
"You're not delivering a perfect body to the grave" / Storm / Buried Alive / "They're not breathing"
"Oh thank goodness", Caretaker said when they heard the phone finally ring, they had been pacing the hole night, they almost ran out of nails to bite.
The detective was on the other end, and the hostage situation was settled. They had the coordinates of where Whumpee was.
The detective led the way, followed by Caretaker and a caravan of police cars.
"Of course they brought them into the woods and left them", Caretaker got out and looked around.
"They said it wouldn't be too far in", the detective started into the woods, "everyone be ready, this could get very dangerous, stay together, we are not separating. I don't need anyone else missing."
Sure enough a few yards in, just off of the trail Whumpee was knelt.
"Whumpee", Caretaker sighed in relief.
As they got close, they became concerned when Whumpee didn't move.
Whumpee was wrapped in barbed wire, leaned up against a tree. A cloth bag over their head. A note was left taped over the bag.
"You're not delivering a perfect body to the grave" -Whumper
Caretaker read the note, "no, no it can't be", they fell to their knees next to Whumpee and pulled the bag off, "they're not breathing."
Caretaker cried at the pale face, a pained expression frozen in time, "they died alone, in pain", Caretaker felt tears come down their face as they lovingly cupped Whumpee's face, "my Whumpee."
"Please don't touch them too much, this is a crime scene now. We have to investigate and autopsy before the body can be returned to you", the detective rested their hand on Caretaker's shoulder, "I am so sorry Caretaker."
Caretaker was led out by some of the police while everyone else waited for forensics to get there.
Caretaker sat in the car, they unfortunately started thinking of funeral plans for Whumpee.
"I don't want to do this", Caretaker sighed, "I want to plan vacations, trips, activities for us to do, not this."
Caretaker pulled out their phone and quickly put it away, "I can't."
Caretaker blinked, and a week had passed.
They were going in to see Whumpee. They were finally done with the autopsy. Whumpee was their's now.
The funeral home would be collecting the body later that day, and Caretaker had set up everything else as well. They even managed to snag grave plots for both of them. Whumpee wouldn't be alone after Caretaker died.
Caretaker was relieved to see the body more relaxed now, no longer bound in barbed wire.
"I'm sorry Whumpee, they are working to find the person who did this", Caretaker promised, "I have a beautiful funeral planned for you, plus our grave plots are in a beautiful location as well."
Whumpee lay there.
"I'm sorry Whumpee", Caretaker patted Whumpee's head and ruffled their hair, "this shouldn't have happened."
Taglist. As always please let me know if you want to be added or taken off of the list. It's not a problem at all. @villainsandheroes @the-beasts-have-arrived @sacredwrath @porschethemermaid @monarchthefirst @generic-whumperz @bloodyandfrightened
#whumptober2023#lyric#no.3#hostage#murder#oc#writing#barbed wire#killed#whump community#whump stuff#whump writing#whump ideas#whumpee#whump#whump scenario#whumper#caretaking
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