#tw: buried alive

[kawaiikenna]

Inspired by this post by @stealingyourbones . No one is safe from the angst. ÒwÓ TW: buried alive.

For those who want to be tagged for continuation; here’s the link to the fic posted on ao3. Subscribe there to guarantee a notification just in case I forget to tag someone. ^w^ Under the Earth; Far from Home

Part 2 for y’all. :3

Danny didn’t know how long he had been in there for. His breathing has become slow and shallow. The last he counted was eight breaths per minute. Lower than his usual resting rate but not too alarming. Now though, he was down to four breaths. His heartbeat had always been much slower than a regular living person at fifty-five beats per minute. It was now hitting at thirty-seven. Worryingly low, even for him.

He groggily cracked his eyes open and was greeted by the same sight he had been staring at for who knows how long now. Silver metal with green cybertronic designs inlaid. A small viewing window directly above him. It was closed though, and could only be opened from the outside. He stared at his reflection in the plexiglass and metal. His face no longer held any kind of muscle or fat. His cheeks had hollowed and eyes had sunken to a damn near skeletal level. When he wriggled his hand up to cautiously touch his face, it was in the same state. Fingers gaunt and skeletal. He could see every single bone in his hand as well as his wrist.

Betrayal panged through his chest at the thought of how he came to be in this situation. His heart had stopped while Danny had been napping on the couch. It wasn’t an uncommon occurrence but this time his mom had found him. She had silently freaked out before being his dad in. Together they came to the conclusion that Danny had died. A very logical conclusion for any other normal person. But Danny was anything but normal. The next time he awoke was to his parents shutting the lid on what had seemed to be a coffin. Danny had yelled and shouted until his voice broke and his throat felt raw. He flailed about in his tiny prison, trying to find a way, any way, of getting out. He was rewarded with multiple shocks every time he even so much as brushed the metal sides. When Danny had tried to go ghost he was shocked so badly that he passed out from the pain.

The next time he awoke was to the thudding sounds of something being thrown onto the lid. Panic had welled up in his mind. Gripping his throat and constricting his chest. He was being buried alive. His parents were BURYING HIM ALIVE. Danny cried and screamed again. Begging them to not do this. To let him out. Telling them that he was still alive, that he was still their son and not a ghost.

They didn’t stop. Instead, Danny was left there. Panting and heaving through the worst panic attack he had ever experienced. He was stuck and there was no getting out.

Danny sighed. He knew that he didn’t have much time left. His energy had nearly completely depleted. He was so weak that he couldn’t physically fight his way out. So with the last bit of strength that he could muster, he sent out an emotional distress signal. He didn’t expect a response. One had never come before. So he closed his eyes again, submitting to his fate.

And then it came.

A tiny whisper, but a response all the same. Danny’s eyes snapped open, renewed vigor forcing him to press his hands against the lid of the coffin he had been buried in. The shocks rocking through his incredibly weak body but it didn’t stop him. Instead he sent out another emotional beacon.

Help, help, buried, not dead, alive, alive, ALIVE.

The answering reply;

Alive, help, coming, safe?

No, no, hurt, alive, hurt.

Danny cried for the first time in what felt like eons. Green streaked tears flooding from his eyes to fall down through his hair and to the pitifully thin pillow below his head. This other presence caressed his mind with projections of safety and help. And he continued to cry out for help. The emotional and mental anguish finally breaking through and breaking him down. He could feel himself slipping. His consciousness fading into black. But just before he slipped entirely into the welcoming blackness that was trying to overcome him, the viewing window slid open.

On the other side was a man with mostly black hair save a lock of pure white that was stuck to his forehead by the sweat pouring off of him. His blue eyes kept flickering to a shade of ectoplasm green before returning back to blue. He wore a white tank top that was now grass stained and streaked with dirt. His hands and arms covered in a thick layer of mud. Had he dug through the dirt by hand? Why?

While Danny had been lost in thought, a sound he had never thought he would hear again rang in his ears. The coffin lid hissed as the hydraulic hinges lifted it. And Danny took his first breath of fresh, non-recycled air in heaven knows how long. The sobs that rended themselves from his throat were those that told of a broken and afraid teen. One that had been abandoned by his parents, possibly even his sister and best friends. Someone that had been alone for so long that even sitting in a stranger’s embrace in the muddy rain was euphoric.

Danny didn’t know when the man had picked him up and held him closely. But it was definitely not unwelcome. If anything, Danny tried to press further into the stranger’s chest. Further away from the damned coffin that had been his prison for so long. The darkness of unconsciousness was beckoning again. Even sweeter this time in the wake of his rescue.

So he closed his eyes and Danny fell asleep to the deep cadence of the man’s voice telling him he was safe.

#danny phantom #dp x dc #danny fenton #dc #batman #dp #jason todd #dc x dp #dc comics #batfam #dpxdc #dp x dc prompt #red hood #buried alive #tw: buried alive #have some angst #so much angst #no one is spared

[normaltothemax]

It’s dark. That’s the very first thing he notices. Not dark like nighttime in the streets of Gotham. Not dark like midnight in his bedroom with all the curtains pulled shut. Dark like the complete absence of light. His eyes are open, he’s sure of it, blinking frantically, like that’ll somehow turn the lights back on, but he can’t see jackshit.

His head hurts, is the next thing he notices. There’s blood, wet and tacky, along the side of his face, starting somewhere in his hairline. His body aches something fierce, there’s not much room to move around, and all of a sudden he’s thrust back into hazy, panicked memories. Memories of waking up in a pitch black wooden box, six feet under, alone and in pain and not having any way out.

“No, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no!” He chokes out a sob, gasping in breaths, dust still settling around him. He’s back in that damn coffin, alive but buried once again, and he can’t fucking breathe because the fear is choking him. Feeling around himself, he searches desperately for something, anything that’ll help get him out. It’s nothing like the casket, except for all the ways that it is. Everything around him is too hard, too sharp, too rough. He has a little more room to maneuver, but there’s something pinning his legs down. He’s not in a suit this time, but civilian clothes, and his head is swimming, but he thinks he remembers being somewhere. A building. The ground shaking.

Then everything went dark.

So. Probably not a coffin, he manages to rationalize, doing his best not to fully lose himself to panic, lest he use up all his precious oxygen before he can get out of here. He tries to slow his breathing, he really does, but it’s hard to manage when he’s back underground with no way out and the fear is so prominent, so clear, it’s practically tangible.

#✦ ic: jason todd #✦ verse: main (jason todd) #✦ open starter #✦ open starter: jason todd #tw: blood #tw: buried alive #idk how to tag that really so hopefully that'll do (but if anyone thinks of anything else to put lmk) #feel free to be trapped with him or part of the rescue crew #i just wanted to traumatize him a little :3c

[nessie665]

Interview with the vampire (1994) / my tears ricochet by Taylor Swift

#interview with the vampire #claudia de lioncourt #lestat de lioncourt #the vampire chronicles #the vampire claudia #vampire chronicles #interview with the vampire 1994 #taylor swift #my tears ricochet #tw: death #tw: child death #tw: buried alive #vampires #vampire movies

[vocesincaput]

OPEN STARTER: Izzy Hands

Each and every night for over a week, a seagull would land upon the makeshift at the head of a grave. Until one night, the top layer of earth began to shift, the disturbance in the soil growing more and more until fingers could be seen clawing out.

Frantic fingers became hands, became arms until finally the mans face appeared with gasps for air. Coughing up dirt that had filled his throat and nose as he dragged himself out from beneath the ground to lay sprawled out on the ground beside where his body had once led.

Confused, delirious, Izzy managed to sit himself up enough to cough up the rest of the dirt before looking around. It took a moment for his eyes to focus. Nothing around him looked remotely familiar. Not the coastline, not the rundown looking cabin behind him... not until his eyes fell upon what sat at the head of where he climbed out of.

The wooden leg the crew made for him.

Izzy frowned as he looked at it, noting the piece of wood attached to it. His brow furrowed and he looked down at himself and then at the earth he just dragged himself out of. The realisation was slow until suddenly the memory of it came rushing back to him, making him close his eyes and hold his head.

He had died...

He had died on the Revenge's deck with Ed over him. It was still a little bit hazy but he remember what had happened. But it just made the former first mate more confused and he looked down at himself. How was he alive? How was this possible?

Izzy's mind ran through so many things all at once before settling on Ed and the crew... He could only imagine what they must be going through with all the hell Ricky seemed to want to bring down on them all.

Izzy didn't even think about how they would coping with his death. If they had not buried him at sea like anyone who lived their life upon it deserved and instead an unfamiliar location with none of them around... he must not have meant as much to any of them as he thought that he was starting to. Sighing at the thought, the former first mate ran his hands over his face before looking back out over the view, lit by the pale moonlight.

If they had buried him in such a place, they were all better off not knowing he was alive once more. They must have made their peace with it if they had abandoned him in a grave, they didn't need to know. And so after removing the piece of wood from his wooden leg, Izzy strapped it on and struggled to his feet before heading off into the night.

Izzy was alone now. He couldn't go back to life he had once lived, not if everyone was to believe he was still dead. He had to start anew.

After walking through the night and into the early hours of the morning as the sun rose on the horizon, Izzy encountered two people asleep beside the burnt out embers of a campfire. Moving as quietly as he could, he slid a knife out of the sheath next to one of them before making quick work of killing both and hiding their bodies. Returning to their campfire, the former first mate got it going again slightly before changing out of his dirtied and bloodied leathers into some of the clothing he found at the camp.

Knowing that he would need to look different if he was going to go unnoticed, Izzy sat beside the campfire and took the knife once more. Slowly and carefully cutting off his hair until it was in a far shorter style than he had ever worn. The feel of it strange beneath his fingers as he ran his hand through the short strands. He smirked sadly before carefully using the knife to shave off his beard. Leaving just the moustache.

Afterwards, he ate some of the food supplies and tried to think of a plan to do next. As if was lost in thought, Izzy's eyes settled upon the golden unicorn leg.

That... was definitely something that was going to have to change.

Even after having buried where he had and feeling abandoned and unwanted by the crew, Izzy couldn't bring himself to just throw it away. So, he worked at removing the leg from the harness and placed it into a bag that was sat next to where one of the men had been sleeping. He then took a piece of wood from what he assumed was supplies for the fire and began to whittle and carve away for a few hours until it resembled something that would work as a leg. Attaching it to the harness, Izzy thought about how he had had to relearn to do most things with the unicorn leg and sighed.

He couldn't dwell on the past. Not now.

After packing what supplies he could into the small bag, Izzy headed off again. Walking for far longer than he should with his wooden leg until he came upon a small village. After talking with a man in the inn there, giving him the name of Hes (short for Hesikia, a family name), he managed to get a room in exchange for work in the inn.

Some time passed and Izzy settled in at the Inn. Working various jobs around the place, mostly repairing what he could. Whenever any people would come in that he knew were pirates, Izzy would slip out of sight. Giving an excuse that it brought back memories of how he lost his leg after his former home had been attacked by pirates. Even with his shorter hair and no beard, he knew some may still recognise him and would definitely recognise his voice.

It was the middle of the day and Izzy was working on repairing a chair leg whilst sat at the back of the inn, mostly out of sight, when he heard a voice that made him still completely. Breath catching in his throat.

He knew that voice...

Swallowing, the former first mate looked out from where he was sat. Instantly recognising who it was. Cursing under his breath and knowing that he could easily be seen and possibly still recognised, Izzy got up and, as carefully and quietly as he could, began to make his way to the door that led to the backstairs up his room. He needed to get out of there for a few hours. Out of sight until the familiar face had left.

Making it up to his room, Izzy closed the door and moved over to the window. Glancing out to check if he could sneak out onto the small balcony and away. He was just about to climb out of the window when there was a sharp knock at his door.

#ic #muse: izzy hands #verse: izzy hands : new life #non rp blogs do not interact #non rp blogs dni #non rp blogs will be blocked #non mutuals do not interact #death mention cw #cw death mention #buried alive tw #tw: buried alive #tw buried alive #//please continue in a new post #//as it helps me keep track of things easier #//so apparently Hesikia is another possible name he was known by alongside Basilica #//please do not feel as if you need to match the length #//i got carried away with 1164 words.... lol #open starter: izzy hands #open starter

[hopeamarsu]

Whumptober Day 5: Every Whumpee's Need

Whumptober masterlist

Javier Pena

Rating: Explicit

Word count: 361

Warnings: Buried alive, running out of air, ambiguous AND sad ending, devastation. Implication of death.

Summary: Javier wakes up somewhere that might be impossible to get out from. This is heavy one, please mind the tags before going further

Blood Loss | Running out of air | Hyperthermia

He can feel the desperation rise in his chest like a led weight that’s slowly being pressed on top of him. There’s nothing left to do anymore, he can’t get out. He’s tried everything possible already, all scenarios and all slim hopes used up. 

There’s no magic lever, no way to spring open the casket roof, no hidden key to safety under the white satin pillow or the linings made out of similar fabric. He’s ripped them all apart the best he can in the enclosed space, only to come up empty.

They’ve removed all his weapons, his boots and even his belt so he only has his hands to use and he knows the wood of a casket is hard and unyielding. His bruised knuckles and broken fingernails know that too, having pounded and scratched at the wood paneling since he woke up and understood where he was. There is no way he can manually break the wood.  

If he could, Javier would scream but his voice is too broken and his throat to tired from all the yelling already. It hurts to swallow, though that is the least of his worries. It’s going to burn a lot more soon if he can’t miraculously cheat death this time.  

The reality and graveness of the situation settles in and Javier loses the final battle to the panic; his eyes burning and lungs squeezing painfully as he battles the nausea rising up in his oesophagus. He can feel the tremors wrack his body and his brain refusing to accept what is inevitable. But he forces himself to face the music.  

He is buried alive, in a casket that’s not only his prison but will soon become his actual grave since there is no way out with the limited time he has left on this earth. Because while the casket might hold, he won't. The air running out in the enclosed space will take him to oblivion soon. 

I’m sorry, papa, he thinks, hands pressed to his eyes, the wetness on his face mingling with sweat and the blood from his knuckles. I’m sorry your son didn’t make it home.

I’m so sorry. 

#Mwhumptober #whumptober 2022 #whumptober2022 #nro.5 #running out of air #javier pena #javier pena fanfiction #narcos fanfiction #buried alive #cw: buried alive #tw: buried alive #whump #fic #hopeamarsu

[behindtheireyes]

She never should have let herself be talked into going to that stupid party. She should have just gone to Eddie's show, drink cheap watered down whiskey and hang with the same five drunks she did every week but she'd let her friends convince her to go to at least one party this year. Ren thought she'd been smart just sticking with bottled soda when she saw Jason was making drinks, he'd been trying to get closer to her for a couple months now but she wanted nothing to do with him. He still treated Eddie like shit and, while she'd put up with a lot, that was one thing that was a hard no for her. It also didn't help that she'd been head over heels in love with Eddie Munson ever since her 18th birthday and no other guy could come close to him in her eyes.

After a while she'd started feeling dizzy and overheated and she blamed that on just the sheer amount of people around her so she figured some fresh air would help her feel better. Little did she know that she was being watched and her soda's had been spiked all night and the person doing it quickly followed behind her.

Everything was a blur after she'd stepped outside until she'd woken up wrapped in a tarp in a fucking box underneath only god knew how much dirt with the last thing she'd heard ringing through her mind.

"Why should the freak get to be happy?"

@hellfireconcert

#tw: buried alive #tw: spiked drinks #ANGST!!!! #v: Shadow of the Day (vamp au)

[numericalassassin]

“pushing up dirt”

Rise From The Grave

It had been a violent death, which absolutely no one would be surprised by. Bullets to the chest, trying to make use of their shield and themself to save someone else. Too many rounds too fast and the electrical snap of their shield failing had been drowned by the sound of bullets in flesh and Zer0's cut-off shriek of pain as they fell. It had been too chaotic to get to them immediately and by the time Nick had made it to the downed assassin there had been too much blood, no breath, no heartbeat, no flicker of awareness when he clung to them. Nothing. Just like that, Zer0 had been gone.

They wouldn't have wanted to be left buried in the desert but that was their only option. A hole dug deep enough that their body wouldn't be disturbed, a simple marker left behind. No one expected anyone to find the alien buried in the middle of nowhere.

Its a couple of days later that Zer0 wakes up, groggy and in pain, half suffocated by the slow crush of dirt piled on them. It takes several moments for the situation to dawn on them as they stare blankly at the earth covering their visor. Then panic rises, makes them shake as they try to wiggle free, shift enough to reach upward.

It feels like hours before they can claw and wriggle and drag themself free, choking on blood from barely healed wounds and the lack of oxygen in the dirt. One arm claws free, then another, desperately grasping the first solid object they find - their own gravestone. Then the rest of them drags painfully free, gasping slow, deep lungfulls of air as they shake from adrenaline and pain.

They're alive. They're still here. Maybe not for long if Gunsmoke has anything to say about it but here they are, clinging to their own grave marker, giggling hysterically at the mess they've found themself in now.

Fuck Nick was going to murder them.

#nicholas-wolfwood #a question answered #tw: buried alive #(feel free to reply or not theyre just gonnaaaaa sit for a minute) #(turns out dragging your still half dead body out of a grave is exhausting)

[inscuciant]

*    †    [  gong yoo ,  he/him  +  cis male  ]  :  is  that  han eun  wandering  around  ?  under  these  neon  lights  i  swore  they  looked  like  a  druid,  but  in  actuality  they  are  an  illustrator +  underboss for the druids.  the forty-three  is  known  to  be  secretive and  sly,  albeit  friendly  and  patient.  after  spending  ten years  in  sin  city,  their  favourite  song  to  hum  is  loveable  by  kim jong kook,  though  people  often  associate  them  with ancient roots breaking past concrete, blood orange skies, the bleed of ink across cold pressed paper.  

— STATS .

sexuality & status: biromantic / bisexual & single :(

hobbies: gardening, hiking / camping, cooking, reading, writing poetry, whatever else bushcore / cottagecore thing you can imagine

pets: two cats

relatives: younger brother 

— DOSSIER .

Eun was born to a couple that never had the intentions of marrying. And while that was a mutual agreement, no one had expected his father to just up and leave a few days after he was born. Only in her early twenties, his mother did her best to raise him on her own. Naturally, there were a lot of ups and downs throughout his childhood and early teens, but they both loved each other at the end of the day. 

His mother fell in love with another man 12 years later, and this time they saw things through completely. Wedded after a handful of months and out came his little brother, Chanyeol; loud as the trumpets blasting on high. Barely settled in his young adolescences, Eun knew the importance of family. Had it ingrained that the Hans take care of their own no matter the cost — they only had themselves to rely on, after all. 

So it only made sense how Eun took it to heart when he was stumbled upon his step-father’s whispers of adulatory. He, of course, made sure to get concrete evidence while a decision formed piece by piece. 

Passive, aggressive, unknowing. 

It’d only been a year since his mother’s remarriage. Only a single year, and the honeymoon phase was slit from the back. Deep seated rage began to boil the longer he ghosted his step-father’s footsteps. Higher and higher the anger simmered until it came to an abrupt halt. Once close call where his mother almost found out was all it took for Eun to finally take action. 

Clever was he to practice personalized script and leave a neatly folded note at the kitchen table. One last shred of that foul man’s presence before disappearing forever. Not of his own violation, though. Of course not.  But it didn’t matter the moment he asked his step-father to come out back. *** tw: buried alive start ***The fireflies look especially bright tonight— come look and see. Watch as the ground gives way beneath your feet without a moment’s notice. Witness how the silver moon slims into a pinprick when dirt and clay and root and rubble swallow the rest of your days. Understand the mistakes of your actions as the world turns without pause, unbothered by your absence. *** tw: buried alive end *** Now a family of three, Eun continued to watch over his family. He worked his ass off throughout the rest of his youth to help burden some of the financial weight. Took up whatever odd job he could when he wasn’t legal to work— even past then when he was of age. It was hard to balance his life, lend a shoulder for their mother to lean on, and be a father/brother figure to Chanyeol. Yet he never gave up and always pulled through to the best of his abilities. Even as his brother wrapped himself in danger, found a little too much comfort and joy the deeper he descended. 

So he descended too after their mother succumbed to sickness. He has to keep an eye on the remaining member of his family — even if that means climbing the ranks for power and perfect the disappearance of those missing; somewhere deep where light never reaches.

— CONNECTIONS .

fine art critiques am i right? ( 0/? ) — grandiose as eun’s illustrations might be, he’s an entire world away from being snobbish and holier than thou when it comes to art. well versed in both mediums and history, he thoroughly enjoys chatting about any subject and is usually willing to teach if there’s space in his ridiculously busy schedule. 

the metaphorical apple never falls far from an even more metaphorical tree ( 0/2 ) — eun doesn’t have children of his own ( he’s honestly terrified of the responsibility to wean his own flesh and blood from those stellar examples of distant past ), but there’s a good chance he’s taken a person or two under his wing over the years. 

presto! they’re gone ( 0/? ) — while loyal to the druids, there have been times prior where he’s helped a handful with their issue of cleanup, i.e. bodies that need to be gone without a trace. 

hobby enthusiast ( 0/? ): eun loves to share both knowledge and tokens whenever it comes to the activities he loves most. always looking for more recipes to try out / insight on in depth techniques with certain foods, willing to share the harvest and seedlings from his harvest garden — maybe even spare a cutting or two from the numerous plants he has, etc. 

rome-of-ance ( 0/1) — something, something kiss kiss fall in love.

#pandemoniousintro #* & han eun — headcanon . #tw: buried alive

[thebonemanwrites]

Buried

I am writing to you from the grave

That I just woke up inside of

The wood grain above feels like smooth, hard rivers of pahoehoe

Come to rest onto a dead and buried land

Below me is a layer of dirt

Still fresh and cooling, but it warms quickly enough

It smells like grass and earth and life

But it suffocates me in a sweet humidity

That may soon be my end

The silence is wonderful, blissful silence at last

A wondrous loneliness in the enchanting darkness

Where all I can see is my own mind looking back at me

Breathing is growing to be a more cumbersome activity, however

My chest is burning more by the hour

And my thoughts are…

Heavy, like a child refusing to wake

Like a shell embedded where the sea kissed the shore.

My eyelids are heavy too

Maybe now, now that I am in glorious peace at last

May I take a brief rest.

#writeblr #my writing #poetry #my poetry #tw: death #tw: buried alive

[moriors]

giovanni falling in love / starting to care for someone in any way is comparable to being buried alive. by the time he realizes, there's already too much weighing him down, he's already started to suffocate, he's panicking and trying desperately to dig himself out but he can't, he can't. its too heavy and too much and he just has to accept his fate, however painful.

#—— ʳᵉᵠᵘⁱᵉᵐ ᵏ. ⁶²⁶; ˡᵃᶜʳⁱᵐᵒˢᵃ. » study. #now im going to make popcorn chicken :) #tw: buried alive

[penny00dreadful]

STWG Prompt: Waking Up

If Eddie was being honest with himself, he didn’t really expect to wake up. 

The bats had closed in and as he said his goodbyes to Dustin, he could physically feel the life leaving him, all the warmth of his blood slowly gushing out, and he was cold.

Though, being honest with himself again, if he had expected to wake up, he would have expected to be handcuffed to a hospital bed, or hidden away in a back shed at one of the kids houses or maybe waking up in Steve’s room, if he was lucky, like he had so many times before.

He definitely wouldn’t have expected to wake up here.

Dirt falling into his eyes and his mouth through the wooden slats above him, no sound at all apart from his own panic, the cold, the fucking damp cold seeping into his skin, the smell of earth around him, his elbows and knees knocking off the wood as he started to freak the fuck out.

They’d buried him, they’d fucking buried him!

Did no one check to see that he was still fucking alive?

How the fuck was he still alive?!

You know what? Sort your fucking priorities out, Eddie, he said to himself. You can continue to ask questions as soon as you GET THE FUCK OUT!

He kicked, he scrabbled, he dug his fingers in between the flimsy, obviously homemade slats of his makeshift coffin and pulled, having to turn his face away from the dirt falling into his eyes again, holding his breath so he didn’t inhale it, feeling it trickle into his ear but deciding that it was the least of his fucking problems.

The fear and frustration and blind motherfucking panic coursed through him and he drove his fist upwards, punching clean through the wood and earth and laughing aloud with joy when he felt air on his hand, down to the wrist.

They’d only buried him as deep as his arm, what a fucking mercy, holy shit.

Okay, okay, okay, chill. Chill.

He was able to punch up pretty easily so he reared back as much as he could in the cramped space and punched again.

And again.

And again.

And again.

He was able to get one arm out as far as his elbow and he swung it down, digging his fingers into the soft earth as hard as he could, using that as leverage to drag his head up. He spat out the dirt in his mouth, his body shaking with coughs as he wedged his shoulder up and pulled his other arm out.

With two hands free he was able to scrabble at the soft earth, slowly, so slowly pulling and dragging and wiggling until he was still buried up to the hips but he could fucking rest for a moment collapsing onto the ground, half in half out, Jesus H. Christ.

He only allowed himself a moment before he pushed against his arms again, lifting himself up and pushing, kicking until his legs were free and he could crawl a couple of feet away.

His whole body shook forward as he heaved, dry and aching with that gut deep pain because there was nothing to throw up.

Eddie allowed himself to tip to the side, rolling onto his back, closing his eyes and just existing for a moment, trying to grapple with the fact that he just dug himself out of his own fucking grave.

That’s so fucking metal.

It didn’t feel very metal right now but it probably would at some point in the future.

Maybe.

Now he just had to figure out if he was stuck inside of a psychological thriller or a supernatural horror.

He was kinda hoping for the second one if he was being honest with himself.

He should probably stop being honest with himself.

Look at what happened when he was. 

He woke up after taking a fucking dirt nap.

Fuck.

He opened his eyes, looking up at the sky and all he saw was red.

Well…

Fuck.

Again.

Still in this hellhole, then.

Okay.

Probably time to figure shit out, or whatever.

Eddie groaned as he sat up, giving a cursory glance around, hoping that maybe it was just a really red sky type of day in the Rightside Up but no such luck.

He was met by the sight of black vines and a general sense of decay, so yep. Still in hell, great.

There was a thick plank of wood sticking straight up out of the earth and as he shuffled closer to inspect it, he realised it was a headstone. They’d fashioned him a makeshift headstone.

It was simple, he wouldn’t have expected any more given the lack of materials here in the alternate dimension.

Just his name, Eddie, engraved into the wood, no dates, no epitaph, just Eddie.

He didn’t hate it. 

He’d have loved some paragraph about his fuckin sick guitar skills or whatever but he could like simple too.

He rarely did, but he could.

Plus, they took the time in a weird fucky dimension to give him a headstone, how could he hate that?

As he looked closer, he noticed a small little heart near the base, S+E snuggled inside, shallow and hastily carved.

Shit.

He needed to get topside, now.

What a stark reminder that the entire Party thought he was fucking dead.

Steve thought he was fucking dead.

God, he hoped he hadn’t told Wayne yet.

That’s just what he needed, to kill his old man with a fucking heart attack.

Eddie pushed himself to his feet and started walking, not sparing a glance back at his grave, hopeful his next one would be, like, seventy years in the future.

There were grooves cut deep into the earth, practically guiding him back to his trailer, or whatever was left of it in this dimension and Eddie couldn’t stop the sickening feeling building up in his stomach that all of this had been for nothing.

They’d fucking lost.

They can’t have lost, right?

His trailer was just ahead, bisected and falling apart, but he could see the portal glowing so he’d get topside, take a look out the window and see that everything was fine…

Sure, yeah.

Totally.

Eddie looked up, the portal floating above him amongst the debris.

It wasn’t that high, surely if he-

He jumped, his eyebrows flying up into his hairline when he easily reached the lip, hanging by his fingertips off the edge and pulling himself up as smooth as if he was floating in water.

He didn’t exactly understand all those physics Dustin had lectured them all on but this… didn’t seem to be that.

He dropped down to his feet, the amount of colour greeting him almost hurting his eyes but he couldn’t focus on that.

He didn’t have time to.

Because as soon as he straightened up, there was the barrel of a shotgun pressed to his forehead.

Eddie threw his hands up, having to blink a few times before he realised who was behind it.

“Sweetheart?”

Steve was glaring at him, the shotgun held steady and firm in his hand. He looked haggard and dirty and somehow even more injured than Eddie had last seen him.

There was a healing burn along the side of his head, making it look like he’d shaved his hair, there was a deep cut through his eyebrow and his arms were littered with small cuts and bruises, extending up into the sleeves of his dirty polo.

And he was wearing Eddie’s vest. 

He was wearing his vest like it was the most natural thing in the world, like it was part of his wardrobe and had been for a while. 

Despite the fucking gun pressed to his head, Eddie’s heart flip flopped around in his chest, more to do with affection than fear.

“Sweetheart, I-”

Steve pressed the gun against him harder with a furious grimace.

“I am not your sweetheart. What are you?”

“I-” Eddie swallowed. That seemed like a very specific question.

Not who are you, not what are you doing here, not how are you upright and not in the dirt, rotting?

No.

What are you.

“Stevie it’s- it’s me. It’s Eddie.”

Steve pressed in harder again, walking him backwards until he was up against the wall.

“You are not my Eddie.” He hissed. “I buried my Eddie a month ago.” Steve’s finger moved down to rest against the trigger. “Now I’ll ask you again. What are you?”

“I…” Eddie opened and closed his mouth. “I don’t know.”

I won't deny it, @momotonescreaming's Hole Microfic put the worms in my brain for this one. Different vibes but the worms did worm.

#steddie #stranger things #eddie munson #steve harrington #steve x eddie #penny00dreadful #eddie x steve #penny ficlet #stwgdailyprompt #dailydrabble #established relationship #tw buried alive

[kawaiikenna]

@leap-ing @elithemiar-blog @halfblackwolfdemon @winged-scaly-attic-dweller @spideypools @redfoxtail26 @manapeer @8000fangirl @antagonistly @all-eyes-no-dragon @mysticalcomputerdetective @01101010-01100001-01111001 @stealingyourbones

Hopefully that’s everyone. Anyways, here’s chapter two! Drop a kudos and comment over on ao3: Under the Earth; Far from Home. Angst, panic attacks, being buried alive, ptsd flashbacks, as well as depictions of a severely malnourished and emancipated Danny ahead. If any of this triggers you please be careful!

Jason had been ignoring the signs. The itch to go riding that would inevitably end at the cemetery where he had been buried. The feeling like he had something to do there. Some kind of unfinished business that he couldn’t remember. The amount of trauma that was linked with the place made it…difficult, for Jason to even think about going past the cemetery gates.

Both Dick and Tim had gone in to see if they could find anything. They didn’t and Jason tried to put the whole thing behind him. To forget about the whole ordeal. But something kept pulling him back. Now two weeks after he initially started feeling the strange pulling, Jason is standing before the gates. He stares at the wrought iron with a slight distain.

He takes a deep breath and pushes past the gates and into the cemetery. His burial plot was in the southeast corner. So he made his way over to it, hoping that it would make these feelings finally settle. As he passed row upon row of headstones, the feelings did not settle. If anything, something stirred in his chest. Something fearful and desperate. Jason was about to turn around and give up when something caught his eye.

Tucked away in an unkempt corner was a very recent grave. Initially he thought it was unmarked but upon a closer look Jason found a wooden plaque sunken into the muddy ground. It had hastily carved words; ‘To our beloved son. We wish we had known sooner.’

Jason picked up and turned the plaque over to see if there was a name. There was none. Only the words he had seen before. He neatly places the plaque back at the head of the grave.

“Your parents must have loved you a lot buddy.” Jason says, his emotions settling just a bit in his chest. “I hope you rest in peace.”

And as he was turning to leave, something happened. It was like the barest of whispers spoken directly into his mind. Quiet but desperate all the same.

help

Jason turns back towards the fresh grave. He doesn’t know why he did it, but he responded. Not really in words, more of a wave of morbid curiosity. The answering response he got nearly knocked him off his feet.

Help, help, buried, not dead, alive, alive, ALIVE.

An instant wave of panic took over his senses. Suddenly Jason was back in his own casket. Buried underground with no hope of help or rescue. Left alone to suffocate and die a second time.

He was on his knees clawing at the dirt before he knew what he was doing.

Alive, help, coming, safe?

He waited on baited breath. Hoping for a response. Anything that would tell him that the boy buried there was still clinging to life. The further he dug into the dirt the more desperate he became. It had rained recently, just the night prior, so the dirt had become heavy and sloppy. Even with it being freshly turned, the rain had packed it down some. Making it much more difficult to dig through.

No, no, hurt, alive, hurt.

Jason screams into the empty cemetery. He roughly shucks off his motorcycle jacket and his shirt. Leaving him in his boots, jeans, and white tank top. Tiny rocks and dirt shove themselves under his fingernails as he shovels and scoops dirt, throwing it haphazardly, only caring about hopefully, possibly saving the boy.

Jason continued to send mental waves of help and safety through whatever mind fuckery this was. With every desperate cry for help, he became more frenzied and desperate himself. Soon, far too soon, he hadn’t dug even two feet into the ground, he made first contact with the casket. What he wasn’t expecting was to be shocked and for green sparks to shoot out from the box in the ground. Jason pushes past it though. It wasn’t too painful, more of like the kind of static shock you would get as a kid playing on the trampoline. Slowly, too slowly, he uncovered more and more of the box. He had finally uncovered most of it when he noticed a sliding hatch closer to the head of the coffin-like box.

He was not prepared for what he saw on the other side of this tiny window. Blue eyes with a green shine stared up at him. Tear tracks running down his face, glowing a strange green. Black hair limp and lifeless, flopped to one side of the kid’s face. Skeletal hands and fingers pressed up against the mockery of a window as green sparks flitted about. A gaunt, skeletal frame shaking from the constant shock.

Jason hesitated for only a moment before nearly ripping the lid off of the coffin. Hydraulic hinges squealing in protest as stale air flooded out of the box. There was soft sobbing coming from the teen. Jason gently picked him up and pulled him out of the tiny prison. The teen shook in his arms but held tightly to Jason as if his very being depended on it. He was wearing a t-shirt and jeans with only socks on his feet. Everything was far too baggy on the boy, only testifying further that he was severely dehydrated and malnourished.

Jason whispered consoling words. What they meant he didn’t know, because at that moment the panic had finally swept him up. Flashbacks and anxiety threatened to swallow him up completely but was staved off by the quivering teen in his arms. It grounded him enough to keep a tight hold on the teen.

~~~

Jason wasn’t sure how long they had stayed down in the dug out grave. Long enough that the sky had turned from an almost dusky color to the city lightened smog of the night. The black haired teen had passed out into a deep sleep a while ago. When he had first fallen asleep Jason panicked, thinking that he had died. But a quick check showed that the teen was still breathing lightly and an impossibly slow heartbeat still thrummed in his chest.

Jason finally pulled them out of the somewhat shallow grave. He laid the teen in the grass and gathered up his clothing. Before he put his shirt back on, Jason chipped away all of the dried dirt on his arms. Anything that was still wet was scraped off and flicked into the grass. With his shirt back on he picks up his jacket and the teen, making their way back to his motorcycle by the gates.

He situated the teen to sit behind him on his bike. He used his jacket to secure the tiny, skeletal body to himself. Settling it over the sleeping teens shoulders then tying the sleeves around his own torso. Once Jason secured the teen as best he could, he took off into the night, phone ringing in his ear.

“Master Jason.” A prim and proper voice answered. “How can I help you this evening?”

“Hi Alfred. I’m going to need medical help.” Jason’s voice is gruff and water from the amount of screaming and tears he’s experienced in such a short time.

Alfred sighs. “What have you gotten yourself into that requires you to visit the Manor instead of your apartment?”

“I don’t need it. I found a boy buried alive in the same cemetery that I was buried in. He’s really weak, most likely severely dehydrated and malnourished. I-I’m not equipped to take care of something like this.” His voice is breaking slightly.

There was a moment of silence. The only sounds Jason could hear were the wind screaming in his ears and the muffled sounds of traffic. The panic he had shoved into the furthest darkest corner of his mind was starting to creep into his thoughts again.

“Alright. Bring him straight into the cave. I’ll have a bed ready for him and I’ll call Dr. Leslie in. I may be able to do many things, this however seems like a situation we need a professional opinion on.”

“Kay. I’ll see you then.”

#danny phantom #dp x dc #danny fenton #dc #dp #dc x dp #jason todd #dc comics #dpxdc #batfam #red hood #ficlet #tw: buried alive #tw: anxiety attack #Tw: severe malnourishment #tw: ptsd #tw: flashbacks #hopefully that’s all of the triggers #let me know if i missed anything

[too-much-tma-stuff]

Do What I Cannot

This is based on My Graveyard Song because I was captivated by the idea of Danny’s parents burying him alive. That’s basically the only part I took though. This is about him being confronted with his parents again once freed.

This is unedited so feel free to point out mistakes. Contains graphic description of violence.

-----------

The Justice League’s newest hero has been a wonderful asset, truly! Phantom is a rather powerful hero and even though some of his methods are a little questionable he follows the ‘no killing’ rule more strictly then some of the long-term members. Even if it’s just because he doesn’t want to deal with them as ghosts it still counts. Some of the more magical people have an idea that Phantom is more powerful then he’s letting on, but they don’t push it. After all he’s still just a teenager, they don’t really want to have him dealing with universal threats either.

Honestly even if he weren’t a hero Batman at least would have kept him around for the impressively positive affects he has on Red Hood. Jason had been calmer and more reasonable then he had been since his resurrection since digging up that grave and teaming up with Danny. It was just a little unsettling sometimes honestly, sometimes his eyes would glint with the green of the Lazarus waters and everyone would tense up prepared for an aggressive outburst only for Jason to announce he needed to find Danny and leave. The more suspicious minds found it odd, but they figured it was just because Phantom could calm Jason down and didn’t look a gift horse in the mouth.

Really the only problem was that knowing Phantom had alerted them to a potential new source of threat that they really knew very little about. The JLD knew some but not enough and the ways they had to fight ghosts were clunky and unreliable, they needed weapons that would work on ghosts. Not Phantom obviously, though the overly cautious ones privately thought about him too, just in case you know? And there weren’t many people who specialized in such tech, so of course their search lead them to the Drs. Fenton.

The magic users thought their methods were crude and crazy but had to admit they clearly worked so maybe it would be best to invest in at least some of their tech. At least to study and see if it could be improved on. So they were invited for a meeting, and it was decided Phantom would Not be told. Mostly because they didn’t want to stress him out and also because they’d learned these two were ‘shoot first ask questions later’ types who apparently didn’t believe there was such a thing as a good ghost so they might actually try and kill Danny on sight, which would be awkward.

The presentation they gave to the Justice League was predictably unhinged and they knew well enough to take all of it with a grain of salt, especially the part about all ghosts being evil. Danny had already explained it to them, that ghosts were driven by obsessions which meant they behaved differently then humans but the majority only lashed out when something got between them and their singular passion. Some were different, some had malicious passions and some were more complicated. Diana and J’onn both looked like they were trying hard not to pick a fight but they’d all agreed to smile and nod till they got access to the tech.

There was a familiar sudden chill in the room, looking around Batman could tell a few others felt it too, though Flash was typically oblivious.

“Oh dear,” J’onn whispered before Phantom appeared.

“Hey guys what’s up?” He asked, cheerful but slightly accusatory, they should have known better then to think they could keep the meeting from him. Before they could think of anything to say Danny’s eyes caught on the Fentons and narrowed.

“GET DOWN!” Jack yelled pulling out one of those stupid blasters from somewhere.

“What a perfect chance for a demonstration,” Maddie said, sliding on a pair of gantlets.

“You-you don’t recognize me, do you?” Danny asked, and for a moment he looked hurt, then something happened none of them had ever seen before, his eyes turned red. The toxic green they were used to changed to a deep, blood red and his feet touched the ground as he stalked forward. Jack shot, Danny didn’t break stride, a green shield blocked the blast like it was nothing. Maddie tried to lung and was immediately hit in the gut by one of Phantom’s ecto-blasts, knocking her back against the glass.

Batman leapt up and tried to lung and stop Phantom only to hit a wall that rippled with green, a bubble surrounding the ghost and the two hunters, invisible until struck.

Danny grinned, shark like teeth on full display without any mirth, white hair whipping in an unfelt wind, flowing so it almost looked like flames. “I guess I look a lot different then I did when you buried me alive huh? How long did you leave me? Because you ‘couldn’t kill you son’ so you thought it would be more merciful to lock me away till everything human about me rotted.”

“No,” Maddie gasped, recognition suddenly sharp and painful on her features.

“Yes ‘mom’,” Danny snarled bitterly. Jack tried to shoot again but the blaster was knocked out of his hands so quickly no one was sure what hit him before it could fully charge. “YOU MADE ME! AND YOU ABANDONED ME! You’re lucky someone found me, I would have gotten strong enough to break out on my own eventually and if I had I would have destroyed everything.”

“Oh my god, his parents?” Diana nearly whispered. Batman understood how she felt, Danny didn’t like to talk about how he’d ended up buried ‘alive’, that his parents were the ones who had done it… that was horrific. It made sense why he had never been able to speak about it, but Damn that would have been good to know before they had invited Danny’s abusers to give a presentation on weapons that had no doubt been used to hurt him. And now.. what? They couldn’t get to Danny, it seemed like he had gotten to the point that Raven did sometimes when her emotions overwhelmed her, could they get to Danny? Could they stop him from doing something he might regret?

“You are not our son,” Maddie hissed, her breathing still coming in a harsh wheeze from the blow to her stomach. “Danny is dead! He’s gone. You’re just an acto-entity imitating him, and not even well, you’re just a parasite.”

Danny seemed to be losing some control of his form, it was stretching, getting taller, his fingers curling into dangerous claws tipped with the blackness of the star studded void. “Pathetic mortals, you act as if you will never die, but you will join my kingdom. Perhaps it will be punishment enough to become what you hate, perhaps not. Perhaps I will speed up the process so you can’t hurt anyone else,” He snarled his hands beginning to glow with familiar green of his energy blast.

“Danny stop!” Superman said, hitting the burier to try and get through but not even he could break it. Danny didn’t seem to be responding to them though he was hesitating.

Batman was resigning himself to watching Phantom kill his once parents before Jason walked by him. Batman wasn’t usually taken by surprise, but he was shocked, and worried, both because he could see the green glow of pit madness through the eyes of his helmet, which was worrying, and because he walked through the burier keeping the rest of the heroes out like it was nothing.

He walked to Danny, taking his hand, there was a soft sizzle as the gathered green energy burned Jason’s hand without him even seeming to notice. He pulled Danny down to the ground from where he was floating, pulling the young hero into his arms. Danny let himself be pulled into Jason’s arms, the green energy fizzling out as he wrapped his own arms back around Jason’s waist, hiding against his chest. As the anger faded he slumped against Jason’s chest.

Just as the heroes were breathing a sigh of relief and relaxing Maddie went for the dropped gun. But she wasn’t fast enough as Jason drew his own pistol, the one with live ammo, and put a bullet in her head. Diana cried out in shock and Batman froze as blood and brain matter splattered over the watchtower floor and her body slumped. Before anyone could recover Jack followed, another shot executioner style and Batman had to turn away.

The watchtower was completely silent, enough so that he could hear Phantom’s soft sniffles as he cried into Jason’s chest. When Batman looked back Jason had holstered his gun and was just holding Danny Close. The green had faded enough from his eyes that it seemed safe, Batman approached warily and wasn’t surprised to find that the invisible burier was gone now that both the Fenton’s were dead.

“I’m sorry,” Danny said softly as he heard the approach, without emerging from his hiding place in Jason’s arms where he seemed to feel safe. “I wasn’t actually going to kill them, but I guess my want to, my emotions, were strong enough to make Jason respond. I didn’t mean to call you that way.” He looked up at Jason, his eyes green again though red rimmed from tears.

“It’s alright, I would have done it anyway,” Jason growled, holding Danny even tighter. “I’ve killed people for less, they deserved it.”

Batman took a deep breath forcing himself to keep his cool about his son’s constant flouting of his no killing rule, now was not the time to make Phantom feel worse. “Jason why don’t you take him down to one of the sitting rooms so he can calm down.” No doubt Phantom was reliving trauma, and grieving because even if he wanted them dead they had been his parents.

Jason nodded and scooped Danny into his arm who let out an indignant little squawk and insisted he could walk while making no attempt to actually get down. Jason ignored Danny’s performative complaints and kept the young hero’s head hidden against his chest so he wouldn’t have to see the corpses of his parents while Jason carried him out of the room.

Now, how best to deal with the aftermath of… all this. And later on he really would have to ask Danny and Jason what he’d meant by Jason responding to his energy, because it seemed like there might be something more to their relationship then just Danny calming Jason down and that was worrying to say the least.

Part 2: here

#danny phantom #maddie fenton #jack fenton #Maddie and Jack are bad parents #buried alive #tw gun violence #batman #superman #dc x dp #jason todd #can be read as dead on main #Danny got buried alive #full dead AU #Jason is Danny's thrawl but they're super chill about it

[crow-with-a-pencil]

Hi @naffeclipse I'm very normal about your fic. Have some frantic midnight sketches as extra kudos along with some tag rambling :)

#my ârt #crush depth #crush depth spoilers #fnaf #tw blood #tw drowning #idk how many others apply #anyways this is midnight crow coming out of the shadow realm to scream at you #first of all a cs ramble is on the way I'm still recovering from that fic too #im biting you naff im biting you so dang hard #I don't even know much about iron lung besides watching a play through but damn do you make me want to know more #just. where do I even start. the atmosphere is established so well and even though there was such a small space to work with I FELT it #I felt the claustrophobia I felt the walls and the console and the single dim lightbulb as my only solace in this death trap #the THOUGHTS #poor yn had so much time to just get lost in their head and spiral pretty much constantly #the dread. the constant overhanging dread of knowing there's a 99% chance they're not getting out of there alive and at this point #they just want to accept it and let it end bc there's hardly anything to go back to if they live #naff. look at me. reading some parts made my chest actually tighten with dread. it was so well done. #this poor human just buried in existential horror and just wanting it to end in a slightly less painful way #and the unknowable beings trapped outside who absolutely REFUSE to let that happen #god those eldritch fish were trying their hardest but just couldn't get in #yn was trapped inside while they were trapped outside and I just #I am EXPLODING the more I think about it #thinking about when they thought they were drowning and tried to breathe again #wanting to die but still having that instinct to survive #asking to be ripped apart but still cherishing their last breath of air #I'm shaking you I'm shaking you I'm dying on the floor #ough. #I'll never mentally recover from this and I want you to know I genuinely get inspired by your writing #this has been midnight crow ramblings. I just hit the tag limit. have a lovely night.

[vocesincaput]

HEADCANON: Izzy Hand

For post season 2 interactions where Izzy did in fact die and was brought back to life, he experiences severe nightmares (details under the cut).

(This can also be adapted to him experiencing the nightmares about almost dying or dying for a few minutes.)

When Buttons brought him back from the dead, Izzy had to claw himself out from the grave he had been buried in.

He has nightmares about this and dying every night but refuses to tell any of the crew about it. Even those he may be close to into certain threads.

#headcanon: izzy hands #about: izzy hands #muse: izzy hands #spoilers: ofmd #spoilers: ofmd s2 #non rp blogs do not interact #non rp blogs dni #non rp blogs will be blocked #non mutuals do not interact #buried alive tw #tw buried alive #tw: buried alive #death tw #tw death #tw: death #cw death #death cw #cw: death #tw death mention #tw: death mention #death mention tw #cw death mention #cw: death mention #death mention cw

[strawberrylabs]

Whumptober day 5 with Wanderer!

Prompt: debris

Whumptober masterlist

Summary: Wanderer regrets his last words to you.

Warnings: Being burried alive, arguments, blood, yelling, death, willing death

It wasn't uncommon for you and Wanderer to get into arguments.

He wasn't always the best with words, or with being honest about his emotions.

Usually conflicts could be resolved within the hour and everything would be fine.

This time it was different.

"Fine! Go ahead and die! Abandon me like everyone else did!"

Spit flew out of wanderer's mouth as his anger seeps through his words.

You had recently come back from a particularly dangerous commission, one where your life was out in danger more than once, and you had received quite a few injuries.

"You know that's not fair! I'm doing my job! You know I would never just intentionally die, that's stupid!"

Normally you were calm when arguing with him. You know he's learning, and you'd usually have patience.

But not this time.

He scoffs.

"Well you're human so I wouldn't put it past you to be stupid enough to die. You would be selfish enough to leave me alone after getting me attached to your mortal ass!"

"Fuck you."

He turns to you

"What was that?!"

"Fuck you! I have been nothing but patient with you these past months as you learn about emotions! I've dealt with everytime you yelled and given you time to calm down! But I will not be called selfish for saving someone elses life! And I will not be guilt-tripped by you accusing me of abandoning you!"

You seethe at him, pointing an accusing finger at him.

"What would you do if I did die? Is my last memory going be worrying about you hating me for supposedly abandoning you? Is my name going to be tarnished by your opinion on my death?"

You could feel yourself boiling with unbridled rage.

"Yeah well maybe it'd be better if you died! Then this false heart wouldn't feel so heavy all the time!"

The silence after his words was heavy.

"I'm going to finish my commissions. I'll come back when you stop being a prick."

You fix him in place with a hard glare.

Wanderer feels a lump in his throat. He'd seen you glare sure, but never at him.

You close the door behind you without a second thought.

Fine. Wanderer would wait. It's not like you could avoid him forever, you live with him after all.

And so he waited.

He would never admit that he didn't sit down once. He would never admit that he didn't stop pacing.

He would never admit that he didn't notice the hours passing, too stuck in his own head.

It was only when he heard someone yelling about the location of your commission did he snap out of his daze.

"Someone said the buildings in the area collapsed!"

Wanderer was out the door in an instant.

Surely you were out of there already right?

The only reason you weren't home is because you being petty, right?

'What would you do if I did die? Is my last memory going be worrying about you hating me for supposedly abandoning you? Is my name going to be tarnished by your opinion on my death?'

Wanderer bit his cheek so hard it bled.

He was an idiot.

Wanderer finally made it to the old village after a few short minutes.

The place was a wreck.

Not a single building was left standing.

But what caught Wanderer's eye was a familiar piece of clothing.

Time froze.

There, in the light of the now setting sun, painting the morbid scene in a sardonic shade of red; lay you. Your lower half covered by rubble of a half fallen, unstable, building. Blood was leaking from where your body disapeared.

He had to get you out.

And he had to get you out now- or else the rest of the building would collapse.

"Hey! You moron, stay with me!"

He got no response.

He left out a breathe when he felt your pulse. But you were unconscious.

"Come on! Wake up! I can't get you out like this!"

He grabs underneath your arms and pulls, eliciting a whimper of pain from you.

"Shit! Come on!"

The more he pulled, the more cries fell from your mouth.

He tried to lift the debris, but it just made the remaining structure unstable.

Before he knew it, hot tears were streaming down his face.

Normally he wouldn't let anyone see him cry.

But in this moment, he couldn't bring himself to care.

"im sorry! Ok?! Im sorry! I know I was wrong, dammit! I know I'm terrible with words and emotions and im sorry I took it out on you! I know it was stupid!"

he grits his teeth, not attempting fighting the tears

"But archons be damned, you're the best thing that's ever happened to me! I need you! You make me whole! You make this fake heart feel something! and I'm not letting you leave me!"

"I'm sorry I said what I did! I was a fool! I know you would never leave me and life would be unbearable without you!

He places his forehead on yours

"so please..." he whispers

"Please! Stay!!"

He feels a hand on his cheek and snaps his eyes open to see your weak gaze meeting his.

One look at your expression told him all he needed.

You weren't making it out alive.

"..I'm staying with you."

You sputter

"You can't! This building will fall any second. You have to go-"

"I don't care! I'm not abandoning you. I'm not leaving the one idiot I love in this cursed world!"

Wanderer moves to be beside you, lying down as best he can to hold you. You action is awkward given the obstacles, but it's morbidly comforting all the same.

No more words are spoken as the two of you look at each other.

No moves were made, now phrases uttered, but the emotion in your eyes conveyed all that needed to be said.

'You loved him.'

'And he loved you.'

You held each other tight as you focused only on one another, foreheads touching.

The last thing wanderer saw as the roof fell, was your resigned, love filled eyes.

And then it all faded to nothing.

Link for part 2(currently a poll to decide what to do)

#whumptober2023 #no. 5 #wanderer x reader #death tw #buried alive tw #wanderer x reader angst #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact #genshin impact x reader angst