#corpses tw

[sayruq]

Over 400 people have been found in mass graves in Al Shifa Hospital and Nasser Hospital so far

[brosif40]

"Dramatic Irony"

lil idea i had.... what if we fought in the furnace room instead?

[autisticwriterblog]

The Derailed Train

[chizue-witchery]

⚜️. *. ⋆ Fandom: EPIC: The Musical

⚜️. *. ⋆ Rating: Teens And Up Audiences

⚜️. *. ⋆ Archive Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings

⚜️. *. ⋆ Pairing/s: Odysseus & Odysseus' Crew

⚜️. *. ⋆ Character/s: Odysseus, Circe (mentioned), Poseidon (mentioned), Odysseus' Crew (mentioned), Athena (mentioned)

⚜️. *. ⋆ Summary: When Odysseus closes his eyes, all he can hear are the screams of the men who died.

He hears their sorrow and fury while outstretching their hands towards him.

⚜️. *. ⋆ Word Count: 1,033

⚜️. *. ⋆ Tags/Warnings: Pre-Underworld Saga, Past Character Death, Nightmares, Graphic Description of Corpses, Hurt No Comfort, Angst

⚜️. *. ⋆ Prompts/Squares Filled: Nightmares || @whumptober 2024 Day 26

Whumptober 2024 Masterlist

AO3

Odysseus lies awake in bed at night, thoughts filled with his encounter with Circe and his earlier encounter with Poseidon. He tries to close his eyes to get a good rest after over nine days of keeping himself awake so the windbag wouldn't be opened. He tries not to think of how he failed, his weary eyes too tired to open. He dreamt of seeing Penelope and Telemachus but never being able to reach them and hold them close to him.

But every time he closes his eyes, all he can hear are screams.

Screams of 'Captain!' as they get drowned by Poseidon or smashed by the Cyclops club. He watched as more of his men died under his command, while he was unable to do anything to stop it from happening. From six hundred men to forty-three men left in the span of a few months or years — he can't seem to remember how long they have been traveling on the seas. Polites was the one who kept track of the date, but they lost track of it when he passed away.

In his nightmares, he would be standing before Athena while five hundred fifty-seven of his men were behind the goddess of wisdom. Polites would be the more prominent one, standing beside Athena while holding the infant in his arms that Odysseus threw off the wall because of a prophecy Zeus had told him.

Athena would stare him down while never saying a word. Her eyes are blank of pupils but glowing brightly, like the other gods he has encountered. She is not in the form he sees when he just wants to spend time with her. He sees the goddess of wisdom with the same expression on her face when they argue while on Quick Thought. He doesn't see a friend, but a mentor, who was disappointed by the choices he made. He sees a goddess who is disappointed that he is not the warrior of the mind she made him to be.

His men would reach out to him, hands outstretched, while their expressions were full of sorrow and fury. They are the corpses of his men, their bodies dripping with blood. Some of the men have their bodies mangled and torn, their organs barely falling off their bodies. Others have their head crushed or part of it missing, exposing the brains, and missing body parts due to the Cyclops club. Bone sticking out of the skin, while the body part is twisted beyond imaginable. The drowned men were dripping wet, their bodies wrinkled and bloated. Their skin is in a sickly blueish-grey color, the veins more evident due to how pale the body is. Some of them are pierced with the wood from the ship. 

Their screams would always reach his ears, and echo in his eardrums. They do nothing but scream at him, repeating 'Captain! Captain!' are unceasing. Sometimes they would say 'Why did you let the Cyclops kill us?' or 'Why didn't you kill the Cyclops, Captain? We could have gotten home if you did.' They say it with sorrow and fury, tears streaming down their face.

They would grab him by the arm and be dragged towards them. Their ghostly hands were all over his body and dragged him under and under until his body burned and burned. It burns him; it hurts him.

And this pain is excruciating.

It's more pain than he had ever felt in his entire life.

He drowns in this pain and he screams louder than he ever has, his throat hurting as he strains it.

It hurts, it hurts, it hurts—

His eyes fly open, a cut-off scream escaping his lips as he sits up from the bed while sweat drips on his forehead. He is breathing heavily while feeling his throat close up.

Odysseus looks around in a daze at an unfamiliar room, wondering where he is until remembers that Circe let him and his men stay at her palace for a day or two when she notices his haggard appearance and looks as though he is about to pass out at any moment. She had told him to rest even though he had protested he was fine. His protests did not work. Not when he almost fell to the floor after a step or two.

A sigh escapes from him while running a hand through his hair. He looks outside and presses his lips into a thin line when he notices it's still dark outside. Although he could already see the sun beginning to rise from a distance.

He knows he only got a few hours of sleep. It's not enough to recover the hours of sleep he lost while trying to keep the windbag closed, but he knows it's enough for him to not be dead on his feet when he and his crew visit the underworld to look for the prophet who can help them get back home.

He does not get off the bed to prepare yet. He is still too tired, too exhausted to get his body to move. His mind is too tired to think this early. His body still feels sluggish, slower than he'd like when he moves. It is unbecoming of him to be this slow when he fought in a war that lasted for a decade.

He looks down at his hands visibly shaking. He wonders whether it's from the lack of sleep he got or the nightmare he had. He shakily exhales while grabbing the blankets on top of him and moves them away. Odysseus moves slowly to the side, letting his feet touch the cold floor. His hands are now holding the mattress and he uses it to push himself up.

His body feels heavy, weighing in the exhaustion from everything that has happened so far. He fears he won't be able to come back home to his family if Poseidon continues to go after them and hopes the prophet will help him return home.

If the prophet won't be able to give him answers, he'll try harder to go back home. He'll do anything to go back home to see Penelope and Telemachus again.

Thinking about them gives him a small burst of energy, just barely enough to keep him going for the rest of the time before they set sail.

Odysseus starts preparing for the journey to the underworld, both mentally and physically. Seeing the ghosts of their previous crew will haunt his remaining crew and he needs to be the strong one for them to get through it all. He is the Captain and their King, after all.

He breathes deeply, a repeating motion of inhaling and exhaling to calm himself before leaving the room to meet up with Circe.

A/N: not related to the fanfic at all, but my glasses broke while i was pre-writing this—

anyways sdjfj here is my entry for whumptober 2024 day 26! i struggled writing this because i debated whether this should take place when odyseeus is already reunited with penelope and telemachus or before The Underworld song, but i realized i didn't know how to write penelope so i chose the second one.

to any EPIC: The Musical fans reading this, hi!! this is my second time writing for this fandom and i would appreciate if you also read my previous whumptober 2024 entry (day 25) since it's also an EPIC: The Musical fanfic. that one however takes place when odysseus is still stuck at calypso's island. it's kinda dark so be warned and read the beginning notes to check the warnings that contain in the fic before continuing reading it.

this is unfortunately my last whumptober entry that is pre-written before october. i'll still try my best to write all whumptober 2024 entries, but no promises! btw, sorry this took a while to come out. i was working on writing a theoretical framework for my research proposal and i also had to take physical therapy lmao

[closedrop]

Spoilers for DQ AoD

TW for mild gore, blood and corpses

Hey guys, you’ll never guess who just watched a certain episode

[strawberrylabs]

Whumptober day 4 with Beidou!

Prompt: "I can see the danger, it's written there in your eyes."

Whumptober masterlist

Summary: Sometimes Beidou worries about the jobs you go on as an agent of the Tianquan.

Warnings: death and corpses

Life as one of the Tianquan’s agents was never easy.

You knew this when you accepted the position.

Your lover Beidou also knew this.

When Ningguang offered you the job, you and the pirate had a discussion about what it would mean for the two of you.

Considering Beidou also works closely with Ningguang, you decided it would be fine. Ningguang agreed to make as many of your assignments place you wherever Beidou would be, while Yelan handled the other jobs.

It worked out great- You and Beidou got to stay together and work together for Liyue’s most powerful figure, and you both got great pay, plus you got to keep the best job you’ve ever had.

However, despite often working jobs that Beidou could help with, being a secret operative for the Tinquan would always have its risks.

Occasionally, you’d receive a confidential mission from Ningguang. Ones you can’t tell Beidou about. 

Beidou knows this, and she’s usually fine with letting you go for a few weeks to handle whatever needs to be handled.

Unless the job poses considerable concern for your wellbeing. Which was almost all of them.

After a few too many missions resulting with new scars adorning your body, Beidou started insisting she came with you to complete your missions.

You know she can’t go with you. She knows too.

But she can’t stand the days waiting for your return, wondering if you’ll come back at all, not even knowing where to search for your corpse should it come to it. 

She knows she can’t go with you, but every time she asks all the same.

Now, you’ve resorted to not telling her about missions. 

It hurts, and you feel guilty, but it’s the only way to fulfil your mission on time without Beidou relentlessly asking to go with you.

That brings us to now…

You had been given what you would call your most dangerous mission yet. 

You were preparing to leave immediately, leaving a note for Beidou informing her of your departure and an estimated time for your return.

You didn’t manage to get very far before your lover in question stopped you.

"Leaving for another mission just like that darling? Not even a goodbye?"

You stay facing away from her.

"Is it dangerous?"

You don't answer her.

"Is it more dangerous than others?"

You don't answer again.

A silence that seems to stretch on for hours fills the air.

She grabs you and turns you around to face her, looking you in the eyes.

"I can see the danger, it's written there in your eyes."

Before you can open your mouth to speak, she continues

"There's something different about this mission isn't there? It's going to be even more perilous than the last. Please love, you have to let me go with you."

Her eyes plead with you as her grip on your shoulders tighten.

"Beidou... you know you can't. Ningguang can't this information to be known-."

"I don't give a damn!"

You mouth falls agape. You had never heard Beidou even remotely disagree with Ningguang.

"I couldn't care less if Ningguang sends an army to kill me, I'll do anything to protect the person I love dammit!"

You think you see tears forming in the corner of Beidou's eye, but you look away before you see them fall.

".. I'm sorry Beidou."

You walk out the door, ignoring Beidou's calls.

"Please!" You she ran to you and grabbed your elbow, pulling her into you.

You could feel her desperation seeping into your bones.

"Even if you go I'll follow you!"

You let out a dry chuckle at that. You both know damn well she wouldn't be able to.

You were a trained agent who's skill set was designed for stealth opperations. She wouldn't be able to follow you.

She's just trying to comfort herself.

And maybe you too.

"Again... I'm sorry Beidou.. I love you."

You shake her off and this time she doesn't go after you.

By the time she's out of her melancholic gaze, you're too far away to hear her whisper.

"I love you too..."

You'll never get to know how much she regrets not telling you when you could hear.

She carried that regret with her for months...

She kept telling herself she'll tell you the second she sees you again.

Even after 7 months...

8 months...

12 months....

it was 15 months before Beidou saw you again.

"I love you."

You never got to hear her say it.

But hey, at least your remains did...

note: I didn't mean for that ending to be so macabre... sorry guys</3

[pluckyingenue]

((Demons: show up to cause chaos and steal some souls mayhaps

Aria!Rosalie:

Demons: ...-backing away slowly as not to attract attention-

[tryingtoart03]

Shared Nightmares

I wanted to draw out a scene from my DND game involving nightmares and death. Fun :)

[sam-roulette]

WIP

“Wow!” said Marius, carefully sidestepping the puddle of miscellaneous bodily fluids on the floor, “That is a lot of rabies.”

“You can’t actually contract “more rabies” than someone else. It’s a Boolean function; either you’ve got rabies or you haven’t.” Ivy idly said, leaning against the sink shoved into the corner of the examination room. Looking over the cadaver gently writhing on the table, she paused. “Though if it were possible, then yes, Martin has indeed contracted so many rabies.”

And what a dramatic display of said rabies too, Marius thought as he slipped a pair of gloves on. Martin was looking positively ghastly; skin going so grey that Marius was starting to see the individual pores slowly opening up, revealing Martin to be soft, gelatinous, and quite rubbery. It could have been passed off like he was touching the back of a particularly gooey stingray if not for the fact that Martin is still foaming at the mouth somehow. The contrast of the ever expanding amounts of paper white spit-brine and the brass of his wrists and fingertips was just the slightest bit disconcerting.

“It is a tad odd though, isn’t it?” Ivy murmured, looking over the corpse that was finally coming to an eerie stillness, “Amphibians by their nature shouldn’t be able to carry nor suffer from the disease. I thought that we’d come to the conclusion of his being primarily amphibious, but there appears to be something mammalian hidden somewhere in there- of course, those sorts of taxonomies are rather reductive-”

“- and you can classify a coconut as a mammal ‘cause it’s a giant hairy tit,” He shuddered a bit at the mental image. Marius prayed he would never see the day where he would have to see a coconut in real life. All those little papillae… the teeth... “Do we still have Raph’s notes on hand?”

“Memorized and accounted for.” Ivy said, “She’s going to have a field day with this, you know.”

“She’s going to want to cut him up live if anything,” Marius waved it off. 

“Fair enough.” Ivy said, “Cadavers don’t exactly make for lively dissections.” 

“They most certainly do not.” 

Thankfully, there wasn’t much Marius needed to do here- the bloke had gotten a nasty gash to the flank, but the wound had already started to heal before the whole rabies thing finished him off, so the most he needed were some stitches. Sewing skin and sewing fabric was basically the same to Marius. The only real difference was that skin was bloodier and also needed to be stabbed a touch harder, generally! Easy as could be.

Marius continued his examination, poking Martin’s currently very dead body and watching his head wetly roll back. His prognosis: gross. He started wiping up the foam, uncovering the human looking face beneath and thanking his lucky stars that the damn body wasn’t making any more of a mess. It just seemed wrong for the poor bastard.

“We’ll just get the kid sewn up and he’ll be right as rain,” Marius grinned, already pleased with an easy job and imagining what favors he could get out of this. Sure, Marius treated Martin every time any diplomatic meetings went south, but he thought this particular case was one the ship’s ambassador would really want to thank him for. 

(Marius also just so happened to be in the possession of two thousand little unassembled space ikea bookshelves. He also did not know why. But they were there, looking smug in their little cardboard fortresses and their Spedish. Mocking him. Tempting him with their wooden depths.)

“Mmm.” Ivy said in a tone that implied that not everything would, in fact, be right as rain. 

Marius turned to her, squinting. “You think my assessment is wrong.”

“Not wrong per se, just… underdeveloped.” Ivy said, “The rabies virus persists inside a dead animal for at least twenty-four hours after expiration- unless we kill it, Martin is still ah, full of rabies. If we leave it, he’ll die again after a few weeks. And since his regeneration appears to take about six hours to revitalize the damaged brain tissue, there is an 87.34% chance of his contracting the rabies virus again and dying after a few weeks, and so on and so forth, until such a time that his body spontaneously produces cells that have mutated partial immunity to the virus. At the current rate and due to the completely jumbled mess that is his genetic code, we could be looking at Martin continuing this cycle for… seventeen years.”

“Seventeen years?!” Marius exclaimed, “But I don’t want to operate on him for seventeen years! Think of all the inter-crew drama I’ll miss!!!”

..

[originally was supposed to be the first drabble in a “Martin Blackwood TMA is Actually the Martin in Hereward the Wake and also a Mechanism” au, except he’s just dead for most of this drabble. he gets better tho don’t worry <3]

[fatefought]

@seasaltsurvivor sent: .BED :  for both muses to wake in the same bed, naked or fully clothed. (Finn + Annie)

annie cresta is squirming, trying in earnest to inch her way out of hands that might as well be talons digging into her skin. there's no use ! as they drag her along with them, she's unsure of where the faceless are taking her. yelps and pleas are disregarded with ease. water floods her eyes as tears beg to flow. they do not care ; why are they doing this ?

she's discarded carelessly on a cold concrete floor. moments pass by as she tries to collect herself. is it seconds ? minutes ? hours ? before she finally lifts a heavy head from the ground. she's been here before. the white walls glare at her. once overbearing and overstimulating on the eyes, they are now stained in the ichor of loved ones' past. dear god - they haven't cleaned it. her movement is stiff as she hesitantly looks to the right. and there's reason.

bodies are stacked, directly disrespecting the recently deceased. only two, but rose and fletcher being slain leaves a deep hole in her chest. one where air painfully seeps through, yet none goes to her lungs. she's a doe who is frozen, other than the way her limbs wrap around each other. maybe they'll show her mercy and end her misery ; but that is still no reprieve as her son's fate would be unknown - what will they do ? they've repeatedly threatened cecelia with her boy after all.

metal clangs and she knows the heavy door is being unlocked. in a hurry, she gets up on bambi legs. once fast, she's now disheveled. it's the result of psychological torment combined with the physical as well as weaponizing hunger. more faceless show, except for one being that isn't. finnick - as handsome as she remembers him. it doesn't make sense. she's heard the screams from thirteen ; thea has unfortunately confirmed it.

at first glance, he looks okay ! but it's thought too soon as the apparency of cuffs creep up. annie tries to reach for him. either he's real and the two of them might be at the end of the rope together, or he'll evaporate away. she's unsure which is the better option. if it is the latter, does that mean finnick is truly gone ? regardless, skin does not graze skin as she is thrust against the wall. red hot pain does not stop her from yelling. and she herself isn't sure if it's a scream of her lover's name or a wail in general. but their weapons are raised - and they're pointed at the man she loves. and !

annie's upper portion raises in haste. sweat coats her, making the coldness of thirteen even more unbearable. chest rises and falls as adrenaline rattles her veins. eyes take a moment to adjust to the darkness of the sleeping quarters. caspian's quiet, sleepy coos pitter patter in the atmosphere. he's fast asleep in his crib. and thankfully, her fiance is beside her.

was she restless in her slumber ? had she woke up screaming ? cresta cannot honestly say. when the panic subdues - as much as it feasibly can - cheeks become warm. embarrassment overtakes her. the thought of disrupting her little family's sleep disheartens her. her beloved already has such a difficulty with his to begin with. she doesn't have it in her to search out his beautiful face, but they are no longer embraced like how they were before unconsciousness took them.

arms gently wrap around a frame they've become so familiar with. there's no worry about the realness of this finnick odair ; he will not drift away. there's no fretting of that. though he's lost the scent of sea salt in the breeze for the standard wash of thirteen and worry has eaten away at him in many ways, this is her finnick. she could never not recognize him, nor would he ever her.

the intended carefulness comes at the hope that maybe he's still at rest. annie blinks away the starry tears. she focuses on his breathing ; she tries desperately to match like they're one. " i'm sorry, " comes in a meek, pitiful whisper. it's an apology for two. one, if he's been startled awake ; two, that her mind could so vividly picture such violence against the man she loves. nevertheless, here's to hoping he remains sound and fast asleep.

[sayruq]

[garbagewith-a-cherryontop]

"Woah dude. You look like shit."

Some fanart of @starry-bi-sky 's blood blossom prompt and fic. Featuring a bat-notyet-dad and the personification of childhood trauma. The fic is called "Late at night, when the nightingale sings".

Imagine thinking your life is bad, and then a dying child waltzes over and bleeds on you.

[faeriekit]

"Okay." Danny slowly laid the already cold body back onto the table, ready to slide back it into the refuge of cold storage. "Okay. Dead guy. Stay there."

The body didn't move.

"Fantastic. Now. Hang out while I pour the embalming fluid into the pump, alright? It should only be a minute."

And it usually did; working in a funeral home wasn't extremely glamorous, but it paid the bills, and Danny had already been used to the rhyme and rhythm of negotiating death with the public by the time he sent in his mortuary school application. It had been a transition that made sense. And in the end, the degree had only cost him a few extra years post-graduation and a little dig into student loans, and now Danny had a stable 12-8 job and health insurance valid in the state of new jersey.

Today, though, the pump had that decided enough was enough. With a bang and a boom, the pump spat out a cloud of smoke and clunked uncomfortably.

The dead body sat up.

Danny scrambled over to push it back down. "No. We talked about this. Dead people don't move. If you want to stay here and have me put you back together all the time, you have to stay put. Got it?"

Whatever the weird gold-eye corpses were on in Gotham, they at least listened to him on occasion. They weren't ghosts, per se— they never pinged on any of the ghost detection devices Mom and Dad had packed in his going-away-to-college bag— but they were, despite being occasionally animate, perfectly deceased.

Weird. Danny had never gotten used to it. Still, they came in droves, too eager to sit on the top of the basement stairwell and lurk in the corners and stare endlessly at them with their weird, avian eyes, and sometimes they heralded the arrival similarly weird-ass bodies that had lost their heads or their arms or their limbs through the more conventional channels.

"I'm losing too much thread to all y'all coming in all the time," Danny complained to the dead body, who, at the moment, was the only person present to blame. "Stop getting your limbs cut off. This stuff is expensive, you know. It's a specialty order."

The body didn't even have the courtesy to blink. Rude.

"At least let them bury you this time. Every time one of you darts off when my back's turned, my boss thinks I'm stealing corpses. My coworkers think I'm building my own Frankenstein or something."

The corpse neither verbalized nor blinked, but Danny hadn't expected it to; with a sigh, he rolled the corpse back into cold storage, locked its little door (not that locking it in had ever stopped it) and called it quits for the night.

It's not like anyone was paying him for the extra hours anyway.

The whole fic on ao3

[illwilledomen]

Hostile and Neutral Overworld creatures, excluding subsurface organisms and testificates (villagers, illagers, witches).

[lunian]

made a couple of posts about Astarion being hilarious gremlin but never made a collection of Gale's silly talks?? I should've fixed it

[helreginn]

"I...." She quirked her head to the side slightly, brows pulled down into a perplexed expression. She meant to say she wasn't lying. That his soul was laid bare for her eyes to witness. But she sensed that knowledge would only disquiet him so instead she shifted her expression into a grin and playfully remarked, "Must I be a liar? Can I not simply be dramatic and metaphoric?"

Hel listened to the name and repeated it with a peculiar softness. "What a lovely name." She liked names. Liked the meaning and the reverence of them. And the power.

"Speak for yourself, Felscythe. I'm so much a native, my body was pulled from it's dirt." She giggled to herself. There was.. a lot more to it than that but she felt like she had that point over him at least. Her laughter only continued as she watched the animated corpses amble back to their holes. Not at them, per se. But she did find his pointed remark funny. As if they weren't both aware he did not need a shovel.

"Not what I meant but alright." Hel snorted amusedly and rolled her eyes. She made no attempt to help. Didn't even hand back the shovel. He was right. These were not the dead she rose. And she was of no obligation to lay them down either.

Her expression pulled downward as he continued to discourage her from a visit, "If I am to apologise to Lady Tyleinth Amaryllis Felscythe, I really ought to do it in person, though. Anyone can write a letter. Only someone who means their words can look their aggrieved in the face while they say them."

Hel waved at him, using his own shovel and with a wide smile on her pallid face. "Nice to have seen you too."

"You're a Goddess of Death, not deception Hel. You cannot see into the heart of me." He said with such conviction as to practically be faith. "I'm many things, but I have never been lacking, not of luster, and certainly never in vigor." He said with a too wide grin. "The apology is owed to Lady Tyleinth Amaryllis Felscythe." The words of her name said with a musical lilt, like the opening notes of a song, or a hymn. "But while I don't think many places can stop you getting there, it would really be bad to have a cosmic entity just...show up in Silvermoon." He said as he came to focus upon the vessel of annoyance that was her claimed jar. "Especially one that isn't actually native to Azeroth." He said as he retucked it under his arms. He gestured with his soon free hand to the undead that waited along the edge of the graveyard, and they slowly started to shamble back towards their unnaturally opened graves. "I'd help get you all back to rest, but someone stole my shovel." He said as three of them came to pluck cast iron rods out of the corners of the yard proper on their way back. They must have been set in before he'd ever even started to dig and unintentionally 'called' upon her. Not that it would have helped, but it did explain how he managed to keep such an erratic impromptu ritual running on discord and necromancy. The undead having to pull the dirt back into their own graves. "I don't call upon you with a dig Hel. No archeologist does, you presume too much falls in your domain, maybe youre overworked in your realm. If anything I'm probably pissing off some God of Funereally Rites I've yet to meet." He said as he made sure the dead were accounted for. It didn't help that it looked like the graveyard had had a backhoe tear up in yard in a rave afterwards, but it beat leaving open graves and disquiet dead. "Maybe you could just, send a letter?" He offered unhelpfully as a portal opened behind him, it must have been a well worn leyline, as a bustling cosmopolitan city was just beyond the rip in reality. Likely the 'Dalaran' he mentioned he was dropping off her jar. After a moments pause he added. "Ok, well...see you...when I see you I guess?" He said with apprehension. "I don't know if I like this casualness with you." To which he just took the portal and left.

@helreginn