#oh that guy? he’s dead—like closed casket dead

[lokis-army-77]

A New Purchase

Eddie Munson x fem reader

Word Count: 1.6k

When you come home only to discover your boyfriend has bought something completely ridiculous.

Warning: 18+. p in v, riding.

Here's the little thing we talked about the other day @munson-blurbs @lofaewrites @chrissymjstan @hellfire--cult (it isn't as good as I think it could be but oh well)

Masterlist

Eddie was almost giddy with excitement when he saw the Facebook marketplace posting. The aluminum body was a bit rusted and the inside fabric was also questionably stained but hey it was a decoration for three hundred dollars and local pickup, hell yes, he was buying it. 

The only thing Eddie didn’t realize was that it wasn’t a small decoration. No…  it was real and he had no clue where he was going to store it until Halloween. Then came the brilliant idea of testing it out. He only wanted to know what it would be like to lie there, how comfortable would it be?

That’s how you came to find Eddie lying in a casket in the middle of your living room.

Walking through the door you stop suddenly, as the small walkway between the wall and the back of the couch is blocked. Eddie is lying there, eyes closed and hands crossed over his chest. 

“Eddie, what the fuck are you doing?” 

He can’t help the grin that paints his once stoic features. He squints open his eyes as he begins to laugh. “I’m testing out my new purchase. Do you like it?”

You sigh and whip your hand over your face, shaking your head. “What on Earth possessed you to buy a casket? Wait, hang on, where did you buy a casket?”

He sits up, resting an arm on the side, and goes into his explanation. “You are never gonna believe it, fucking Facebook Marketplace. It was so cheap and to be honest I thought it was a fake one that would have been maybe a foot or two tall but nope. Imagine my surprise when I get to this guy's house and he rolls this baby out. He slaps the side panel for emphasis. He even threw in the church trucks for free so it would be really easy to move around.”

You just chuckle and shake your head. “Okay, then why did you buy it?”

“I figured we could use it to decorate for Halloween and also because when I saw it was actually real I just had to test it out. Take it for a test drive before I actually do kick the bucket.” He said it so seriously like it was the most obvious reason in the world.

“Eddie, really?”

“Oh, come on babe, like you’ve never thought about laying down in one of these bad boys.” 

“Contrary to what you might believe, no, no I haven't.” 

Eddie reaches out then, making a child-like gesture of opening and closing his hand. You walk forward and curl your fingers around his. “Switch places with me, see how it feels.”

“No, I’m not getting in there.” You laugh.

“Why not? Do you really want the first time you experience this to be when you’re dead? You won’t even know if it's uncomfortable or not.” He pulls you forward even more. 

“Eddie no-”

“Come on… If you won’t switch then get in with me.” 

You give in, sighing playfully as you bend down and crawl into the cramped casket. Eddie tries his best to shift over so you have space, but the area inside is only so big and definitely was never intended for two.

You both are laughing when your knee suddenly loses its steadiness, atop the thin, almost non-existent padding layered over the metal bottom, and slides out from under you and you fall on top of Eddie’s chest with an “oomph”.  You look up and you catch a glint in his eye as they darken just a bit. 

It’s a familiar look, one that he has given you so many times no matter the situation or surroundings. A look that he knows you will give into. 

“Don’t look at me like that.” You plead with him, knowing where this will end. 

Eddie looks at you, eyebrows raised in faux confusion. “I’m not looking at you in any particular way, Sweetheart.”

You slap his chest playfully. “Eddie you are giving me your ‘I want sex’ eyes and I am not going to, not here.”

“Baby,” He wines. “Come on. It’ll be sexy. We could even role-play as vampires.” 

“No-”

“Please.” Eddie reaches his hand to cup your cheek, pleading softly as he brings his face closer to yours. You are trying to fight it but you know you can’t and Eddie knows too. As soon as he looked at you with those sultry brown eyes, you were plyant in his grasp.

When his lips press into yours, you sigh, relaxing into him. Your fingers curl into his shirt and you inch up, caging his hips between your thighs. It hasn’t even been thirty seconds from when the kiss started and you can already feel him hardening under you. 

Pulling away, you mumble into him, lips barely touching. “Does it really turn you on thinking of fucking here?” 

Eddie nods and surges forward to reconnect your mouths. His tongue flits past your lips and finds its way inside, caressing your own. 

You're barely-there resolve crumbles as you begin to roll your hips into him. You can feel his hard length as you grind, his breath catches in his throat. 

"Fuck baby," he mumbles against your lips.  "Need to feel you around me."

There is a heat coursing through you, clouding your mind as your fingers begin to unbutton his pants. 

Eddie is eager, his hips press up into your hands, pushing you to free him faster. The blue cotton of his boxers has turned a deeper color in a small spot where the head of his cock rests, the precum there being soaked up by the cloth. 

You slide a nail up his covered shaft and a great shiver overtakes his body under you. "Don't tease me- please."

A chuckle bubbles out of you. "But that's the fun part." 

Eddie just whimpers in response. 

You begin pushing your fingers past the elastic waistband. You pull the fabric down and bring your other hand up to help situate both his pants and boxers down to his mid-thigh.

His cock springs forward and you can't help the feeling of absolute lust coursing through your veins. You need him inside you, now. 

You silently thank your past self for deciding to wear a dress today. In your need, you don't think you would be able to wrangle yourself out of a pair of pants. 

Firmly you take Eddie's cock into your hand. He hisses at the new pressure you ar editing him. 

"Fuck baby, just like that." His hips jump into your touch. 

"Gonna let me fuck myself on you? Gonna let me take what I want?"

Eddie only nods. Words have left him as he stares into your sultry gaze. 

You begin to stroke him, up and down, spreading the stickiness leaking from his tip with your thumb. 

Then, you begin to scoot up his body. Hovering over him. Eddie watches in awe as you take him up in one hand and move your panties over with the other. A slow moan releases itself from your as you begin to sink down on him.

Eddie's cock was perfect. It always felt so good to be wearied around him, his head pushing deeper into you. 

Both of your breathing is labored. You try to keep yourself calm, you don't want to rush into riding him, you want to take your time making each of you feel wonderful. Eddie. On the other hand, is trying not to combust as he lays there and watches.

The way your dress is hiked up around your beautifully, thick thighs, how his cock disappears into you, surrounded by a curly thatch of hair. 

God he loved you. It was the only way to explain why his heart was beating out his chest. 

You groan as you feel him entering you. There is a slight burn as you stretch around him. Slowly, you begin to move your hips. Eddie starts to make choked noises and his hands reach out to grab you. His fingers grip your hips, helping you grind into him. Your own hands grasp at his covered stomach. 

There was an ache building as you moved. Low in the depth of your stomach and it began to grow. The more you fucked yourself onto Eddie the more the ache was felt. IT had you clenching down around him. You cunt milking his cock of everything he could give you.  

Eddie’s hands caress your body. When his fingertips touch skin, it's like an electric shock goes through you. 

“Eddie-” You moan.

“I know, love.” He mummers. 

“Can feel you so deep.” You grind harder, shivering as your clit rubs against his pubic bone. “Need more.”

“Yeah? Take it, baby, take anything you want.” 

You catch Eddie’s hands and guide them up under your dress and to your breasts. 

He hums in approval as he pushes your bra down and begins to play with your nipples, pinching and pulling them slightly.

Your head lolls to the side, hair falling down around you. It’s taking so much energy for you to keep moving. Your legs are beginning to tire out, there is a sting in your muscles. Your knees are screaming at you as they dig into the not-so-comfortable foam at the bottom of the casket. 

Body becoming rigid, you cry out, moaning Eddie’s name loudly into the living room. Your fingers cling to him as your body caves into him. You can no longer keep moving so Eddie begins bucking his hips into yours, helping you to ride out this high and bring him to his own. 

Eddie lets you fall almost completely on top of him once he’s finished. His arms wrap around you, your breaths in sync with the other. 

As you rest your forehead on Eddie’s chest, you feel the tiny movement of him jerking. He’s trying not to laugh. 

You crane your neck to look up at him. “What?” 

He shakes his head. 

“Eddie.” 

“Nothing, just that we fucked in a casket.” His smile was as wide as could be,

You let your head fall and you laugh into his chest. “Don’t get used to it.”

[multi-fandom-imagine]

Lαst Kıss ➤ Stan Pines

A/n: been dying to use this song, so here is a quick little fic i wrote on my way to work

Oh, where oh where can my baby be?

The Lord took her away from me

She's gone to heaven, so I got to be good

So I can see my baby when I leave this world

It was prom night, and Stan knew he had to get you home but of but just because he had to drop you off didn't mean he couldn't spend a bit more time with you first, which meant that he needed to drop Ford off at home.

Despite his brother initial protest, he eventually slipped out of the car warning Stan to 'Bring dad's car back in one piece.'

Rolling his eyes, Stan drove off smiling to himself as you rested your head on his chest. "Did ya have fun tonight dollface?"

Biting back a snort you shook her head closing your eyes. "It was nice until you dumped punch on yourself."

We were out on a date in my daddy's car

We hadn't driven very far

There in the road, straight ahead

A car was stalled, the engine was dead

Letting out a hum, Stan let his fingers glide across your neck. He knew you were smiling, he could tell by the tone in your voice.

With how popular you are, yet you still fell for a guy like him and he couldn't have been happier.

Doing his best to take his time, Stan's eyes flicked to a car stalled in the middle of the road. His hand's gripping the wheel tight, he could tell by just how they were trying to start it that the engine was dead.

I couldn't stop, so I swerved to the right

I'll never forget, the sound that night

The screamin' tires, the bustin' glass

The painful scream, that I heard last

Stan knew it was pointless in trying to stop, he knew it would have been a head on collision if he did, so he did the only thing though he could. Hand's gripping the steering wheel, he jerked the car to the right.

The sound would forever be engrained in his memory, the screeching off the tires, smell of burning rubber, the sound of the glass bursting and your scream.

That painful scream he heard last before everything went black.

When I woke up, the rain was pourin' down

There were people standing all around

Something warm flowin' through my eyes

But somehow I found my baby that night

I lifted her head, she looked at me and said

It hurt....everything hurt when he finally opened his eyes. He could barely register the people standing all around the wrecked car. He blinked feeling something warmth trickle down past his eyes.

A painful feeling in his chest as he finally looked at you. Stan could feel tears spring from his eyes as he did his best to hold you. His hand on your cheek as your eyes fluttered open for a moment as you gave him a smile.

"Hold me darling, just a little while"

Lips trembling, Stan lent in as he rested his head against your own, his lips brushing yours softly as he held you as best as he could.

I held her close, I kissed her our last kiss

I found the love, that I knew I had missed

And now she's gone, even though I hold her tight

I lost my love, my life that night

It didn't matter that he could hear the ambulance in the distance. It didn't matter because he could feel your body grow cold, lip against him.

He didn't know how much he held you, how much he begged for you to wake up.

You were gone and you weren't coming back, your funeral really solidified that. Stan stopped talking to anyone after his death, he couldn't look your parents in the eyes know matter how kind they were being to him.

So he did what made sense to him at the time, the only thing that made sense. He joined the United States Marine Corps and soon he was being shipped off to fight in the Vietnam War.

He did his best, he was a good soldier but all it took was one bullet but as he laid dying a smile graced his lips because he was going to see you again.

It was the second funeral Ford had to attend, he just never thought it would have been for his brother. He did his best to not look at the casket. Barley listened as his father loudly exclaimed that is son died a hero, that he'd proudly display the purple heart.

Ford knew he would have to steal that before his father could pawn it.

He wandered off the moment they handled his mother a folded flag and before he knew it he was back at the swing set. Sitting down, his grip tightened around the chain.

"I miss you Stan."

"Ha...you'll be alright sixer."

Tensing, Ford's head snapped to the voice. He felt like he was going insane because standing in front of him was his very dead brother. "Stan."

"I'm happy...don't think to much about it alright"

Then another voice chimed in, one we hadn't heard in years. And then he saw you, still clad in that prom dress. "Stan! Come on we're gonna be late."

"Sorry, gotta go Sixer...can't be late...take care of ma for me and the others."

Ford watched Stan link arms with you and with a blink of an eye you were gone. He didn't know if he was going insane or if he really saw the spirit's of you and his brother but as he sat down on the swing he couldn't help but smile.

Everything was going to be alright.

[thisdudedoesntexist]

So I had a dream about a helluva boss and danny phantom crossover with a little dc in it so keep scrolling if you just want dpxdc or don't like spectral owl (danny Fenton x Octavia goetia). Also for some context only Loona and Octavia know about danny being phantom and the ghost king. Its also incomplete cause I can't remember the rest, so feel free to add on.

Stolas (the wiki said 30's so he's 35): red

Danny 19: green

Octavia 18: purple

Please excuse any grammar or spelling errors

Stolas had be trying for MONTHS. Two whole-MONTHS to bring his daughter back. Everyone else was trying to distract him with placateions like a funeral and time to grieve. To tare him away from what he knows he saw!!

Stolace: "Oh Octavia, only 18 and just over a year into dating that Daniel Fenton, that normal boy was one of the best things to happen to her even if it earth and hell was a rather long distance relationship. He couldn't even speak at the funeral, he was just sitting there stiff as a corps staring as the closed casket (Satan, there wasn't even a body). If that dammed, and now dead executioner hadn't gotten so careless she would have never disappeared- JUST DISAPPEARED in that flash of green light!"

But no matter! He had been researching and researching for days and nights on end (my, Blitzo's attempts to make him sleep were tempting). He had-despite the protests of some of his family found a tome, one book on summoning himself the Ghost King's castle, more like Pariah dark's current location but thats irrelevant. If legends of his exploits and one of his advisors mastery of chronomancy are to be believed he could bring his daughter back.

He has it all set up and he will be doing soon, he just needs to wait for the sacrifice to arrive (an exorbitant amount of gold coins and a sword thats taken at least 100 lives).

-------------------------------------------------------

Danny has been having a great two months.

Ok so there was a bit of worry when he had to save his girlfriend from that rogue executioner angel by teleporting her to his castle (thank the ancients that Octavia and their friend situationship loona were so acceptingof that, you have no idea what being told by your parents that they were going to "Rip you apart molecule by molecule!" Does to a former fourteen year old. He still has a little panic attack when people ask him if he knows phantom.)

After explaining what happened and telling her about the "Non Ecto-material returnal laws" he's been working on with his advisors (ghost friends) he and Octavia have essentially been having an extended sleep over. Danny's been showing her around all the cool places in his castel like the garden of dangerous extinct plants, the throne room (An abrupt visit from the teen titans cause Trigon was about to appear on earth.), and the recreational center that was built after Danny discovered why pariah went mad.(That crown had been beaming him with the suffering screams of his subjects and he couldn't do anything about it). Speaking of the rec-center, he and his Moon (Octavia) had an appointment with the former tyrant where is she?

Danny: "Octavia! My moon where are you!"(He starts in a casual flight speed down the halls towards the guest room his girlfriendhad been staying in). "Via~" he says in the way he always does when he's being intentionally stupid. "Where are you my darling?" while his voice is sweet he's grinning like the experienced menace to society he is. "Its almost time to go annoy the old man!"

This earns him a blob ghost plushy to the face while Octavia "the smartest person in the world in Danny's opinion" chuckles at his mock-suffering.

Octavia: "Stop it you sound like my dad! Who would want to date such an nerdy guy?" (her, apparently) "And yes we should get going before Janice (Danny's secretary with an obsession with office management) starts eating her clipboard."

As they are walking down the hallways and corridors Octavia speaks "Don't you have that meeting with Constantine later?"

"Right, forgot about that." (The laughing magician had been checking up on him through bi-weekly attempts to "scam him into making choices that wouldn'tjust benefit ghosts.") "Should probably ask him to help set up a meeting between me and your dad so we can finally get you home next week."

"Thank Satan I can sit in my own bed again soon!"

"Huh?!" Danny says in a pretend offense that doesn't reach even his face. "Sick of me already? Have I not been a good host?" He wipes a phantom tear (get it?) from his eye. Earning a laugh from the other.

Honestly, what could go wrong today.

[housethemd]

One Life For Another

(What if Amber had been the one to survive the bus crash instead of House? Snapshots of Wilson’s life after House. Wilson/Amber, eventual House/Wilson. Just read and you’ll understand.)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Where’s House?”

Amber asks, shortly after her eyes open. Wilson smooths back her hair, thinking she’s just confused, concussed.

“Shh, you were in a bus crash. You’ve been unconscious for nearly 24 hours. You’re going to be okay though.” He reassures her, kissing her forehead.

“Where’s House?” She repeats.

That’s how they find out House was in that crash too. He’d forgotten his wallet at the bar, so he’d been taken to Princeton General as a John Doe. That’s why Wilson only got the call about Amber.

When Wilson gets there, House only has a few hours left. The damage is too extensive. He’d need multiple organ transplants to save him, and he qualifies for none of them because of his addiction. Conceptually, Wilson knows that House would be unlikely to survive regardless.

Amber checks herself out of PPTH AMA, refusing not to be at her boyfriend's side. House is in and out of consciousness, the high doses of Morphine he’s being given make him drowsy.

It’s 3am when House wakes up for the last time. He’s surprisingly lucid, and Wilson knows what that means. He’s seen it time and time again in his patients. It’s like the universe grants them one last chance to say their goodbyes, to make their peace.

“Always knew I’d go first.” House’s voice is rough and quiet. Wilson has to lean in close to hear him.

“Me too, I didn’t think it would be quite so soon though.” Wilson laughs through his tears.

“On the contrary, I think I’ve lived longer than I was supposed to.” House says.

Wilson knows he’s talking about the infarction. He always knew House felt he should have died then, but Wilson always tried to reassure him that it obviously wasn’t his time, and besides, misanthropic bastards are supposed to live forever, aren’t they?

“Oh Greg.” Wilson is starting to shake as he fights the urge to break down.

“S’okay Jimmy.” He soothes.

“Cut throat bitch.” He addresses Amber now.

“Yeah House?” She’s wiping her own tears away, watching someone die is always hard, especially when it’s someone your loved one loves so much.

“Take care of Jimmy for me, okay?”

She finds she can only nod.

They all know it’s time. No one wants to say it, but they all know.

“I love you, Greg.” Wilson says, squeezing House’s hand and leaning close.

“Love you too, Jimmy. You’ve been the bestest friend a fucked up guy like could have asked for.”

Wilson can’t respond through the sobs. House’s eyes are glassy and unfocused. Wilson leans his face on House’s shoulder. His friend is dying.

“See ya, boy wonder.” The words are drawn out and slow, as House says them with his last breaths.

The monitors alarm as House flatlines. Amber rubs circles on Wilson’s back as he sobs loudly into his dead best friend's shoulder.

———————

Wilson gives the eulogy at House’s funeral. It's an open casket. House’s parents had his body dressed in a dark gray suit with a white shirt and a black tie. Wilson hates that they put House in a tie. House always hated ties. They should have put him in a blue shirt, not a white one. He always looked best in blue, it brought out his eyes. Not that you can see his eyes now.

He talks about how House was a healer, how many lives he’d saved that no one else could. How he cared about people, but only when no one was looking. How much he’ll miss, how much he misses him.

He sobs quietly as they lower the casket into the ground. He doesn’t want to make a scene, but if he’s leaning heavily on Foreman, no one says anything about it. Amber never lets go of his hand.

Blythe comes up to him and thanks him, “For being such a good friend to Greg.” He thanks her, tells her that her son was a very special man. He doesn’t know how to tell her that for everything he did for House, House did just as much for him.

——————

A year goes by.

Amber encourages James to talk about House. She knows how important that relationship was to him, and she never wants him to feel as though she’s forgotten. She doesn’t want him to think she expects him to forget.

They buy a house in the suburbs. It has three bedrooms, a large backyard, and a massive living room. It’s perfect for housing a baby grand piano. Despite the fact neither of them can play it, James keeps it.

He kept all of House’s instruments, they were all incredibly important to House and James couldn’t bear to see them go; there was so little that was truly important to House. But while the guitars get put away in cases and stored, James wants the piano displayed. After the movers had left, James just stared at it for a while. Eventually he said,

“He used to play for me when I’d ask. He was quite talented. It was… nice.” Before he went back to unpacking boxes.

Three months after they move into their home, they go out for a night on the town and James gets down on one knee. She says yes, but also says she won’t change her name. No way will she be the fourth Mrs. Wilson.

That night she wakes at 3:30am to an empty bed and the occasional sound of piano keys. She pulls on the shirt James discarded when they tumbled into bed before she creeps just far enough down the stairs to be able to hear him without being seen.

“I missed you a lot today. I asked Amber to marry me. She said yes, but she’s keeping her name. Thinks ‘Mrs. Wilson’ is cursed or something. I know you’d agree with her.”

There is the sound of piano keys being played randomly.

“It won’t be the same. Getting married without you there. I know it’s silly, I’ve done this three times before, but it’s a big day and I wish I could have my best friend by my side.”

Amber creeps back up the stairs. She’s happy James talks to House. She knows his therapist suggested it, and she’s glad to see he’s listening.

——————

Their wedding is small. They end up not doing wedding parties because James can’t bring himself to have anyone but House as his best man. Amber doesn’t mind. At the reception they light a candle “for those who couldn’t be with us” but it’s really just for House.

———————

Eighteen months after their wedding Wilson is standing in one of the PPTH delivery rooms.

“It’s a boy!” The doctor doing the delivery announces.

As Amber dozes that night, Wilson cradles the small bundle that is his son. He looks down at him with awe. The birth certificate sits next to him on the side table, signed by both him and Amber. It reads:

Michael Gregory Wilson-Volkais

He’d been worried about asking Amber to name their son after House. But she’d only smiled at him, and said she thought Gregory made a lovely middle name.

———————-

“Dad, who’s that with you in all the pictures?”

Michael is ten, and they are flipping through a photo album Amber just completed. She insisted they include pictures from before they met, because she was in her mid thirties and he was in his early 40’s when they met, meaning they both had a hell of a lot of life before each other.

“That’s your Uncle Greg.” Wilson answers, as they all stare down at a collage of images of himself and Greg.

“But I thought you only had two brothers, Uncle David and Uncle Danny.” Michael says, confused.

“Greg wasn’t my brother. We met at a medical conference when I was 28, and after that he was my best friend.”

“If he’s your best friend, why haven’t I ever met him?” Michael questions.

Wilson lets out a deep sigh, putting his arm around his son.

“Because he died, Buddy. Before you were born.”

“Oh.” Michael hangs his head, clearly feeling bad. The boy was cursed with his father’s empathy.

“It’s okay. It’s nice to talk about him. Did you know you’re named after him? Your middle name ‘Gregory’ is after your Uncle Greg. Gregory was his full first name.” Wilson tells him.

Michael thinks that’s pretty cool, and they move on to other pictures in the album. That night however, Wilson sits down with a glass of scotch and the album. He sips his drink and reminisces about the moment each picture captures, and all ones that weren’t captured on film.

———————-

At sixty-five Wilson lies in a hospital bed. His wife of twenty-three years is on one side of him, and his twenty-one year old son is on the other. Dying of cancer isn’t how he pictured his life ending, but having family around him makes it somewhat bearable, or maybe that’s the morphine.

He hates to leave his son so early, but that’s the danger of having kids later in life he supposes. Michael is only in his last year of his undergraduate degree - premed. He wants to be an oncologist like his old man. Wilson wonders if watching him die of cancer will change his mind.

He’s said his goodbyes, and slowly light and sound fades away. Strangely, or maybe not, his last thought is not of his wife or son, but of Greg House.

See you soon, old friend.

———————

“Wasn’t expecting to see you for another twenty years at least.”

He recognizes that voice. As he slowly opens his eyes he realizes he recognizes his surroundings too. It’s a forest in upstate New York. He and House used to go backpacking here. They’d spend weekends camped out, cooking everything over their campfire and sleeping side by side in sleeping bags in a two person tent.

He finds the source of the voice seated on a tree stump, and there he is.

“House.” Is the only word he manages.

“In the flesh. Well not really, but you know what I mean.” House smiles and laughs.

He looks like he did the night they met, dark hair and unshaven face. Jeans and a band t-shirt under a leather jacket. Wilson looks down at himself and realizes he’s similarly dressed, his own jeans and McGil sweatshirt. He touches his face and realizes he’s also back to the age he was that night.

“I missed you.” He tells House. It’s true. He didn’t realize how much until right now.

“Come on Jimmy, walk with me.”

House takes him down a narrow path that leads them to a small lake. Wilson remembers it from their camping trips. The only difference is now there is a small cottage next to it.

“So, what have you been up to?” House asks. Like they aren’t dead, like this isn’t some strange afterlife they find themselves occupying.

“Not much. Married Amber. Had a son. Named him Michael Gregory, after you.”

They stare at each other for a moment before bursting out into stomach aching laughter. After they finally stop they wrap their arms around each other in a tight hug. They never hugged much when they were alive, but now it feels right.

“What got you?” House asks softly in his ear.

“Cancer.” Wilson tells him.

“Wow. That’s… ironic.” House says as they pull away.

“Yeah. Yeah it is.”

They make their way into the cottage. House will give him a tour of it, and when the sun begins to set in their version of heaven they’ll lay down together in one bed without question.

In life they never seemed to get things right, and then their time together was cut short.

In death they’ll get it right.

[civilotterneer]

The Search for Civ

I followed the Civ-like devil into a valley-like area of cliffs, very similar to the red rocks of a city not far from home, but feeling much more hostile. This strange brick bridge went through the crevice of the cliffs, continuing on passed corners in one impossibly long structure.

"So, Cliffs of Callous Imps?" I asked, "I see the cliffs, but how worried should I be about the imps?"

"Oh very," Livic responded, "As far as I've heard, they're pretty dangerous in packs...which they hang out in within these cliffs."

I strengthened my grasp on my staff as we entered the canyon, eyes darting to the surrounding rock face.

"So, any thing we can do to avoid them?" I asked.

A piercing screech rang out, bouncing off the canyon walls.

"Not anymore," Livic said with a grin, "Let's see those magic skills of yours!"

Imps flew out of cracks and hidden caves, as if the cliffs themselves spawned the red winged creatures. Several came up from below, flying nearby or landing on the stone bridge. Evil grins came below glowing eyes, barbed tails whipping in anticipation with grabby, clawed hands. Strange, humanoid screeches sounded out from them.

"Time for some fun!" yelled Livic.

I saw Livic lift into the air and quicky produce a flame from his hand. For a moment, I was confused, having thought most devils are immune or resistant to the fire, but the screeching, blackened imps that resulted from his attack told me otherwise. He quickly followed it up with extended red claws from his hands, engaging in a melee.

Several descended towards me. I whipped my hand in a quick 'Magic Missile' spell, and started firing bolts of necrotic arcane energy at the imps. It didn't seem like much, but each bolt was easily capable of destroying or sending-flying the creatures that approached me.

A few moments later, and with about 20 of the creatures dead with magical wounds or burned skin, the tide suddenly stopped, with the remaining imps quickly retreating to the cliffs again. Not even one had gotten close to me nor Livic, which felt greatly uneasing.

"Is that...is that it?" I asked Livic.

"For now," he said, landing next to me, "Imps are pretty cowardly little guys, and the fact that I showed them who's the bigger devil clearly is enough to send them fleeing with stingers between their legs."

I looked around at the 13 dead to magical bolts and only 7 dead to fire and claws, but decided not to press his ego and let him have it.

"And..." Livic started, "You're magic's pretty good, bet they didn't like that either."

Thanks goodness, it knows even the slightest bit of humility.

"Will more of them come?" I asked.

"Not likely, but we'll probably need to be careful," Livic said, starting to walk away, "There are way worse devils we'll probably run into, so keep those spells handy!"

I stared at one of the bodies of the imps at my feet. It was slowly metling, as if becoming a black ichor and seeping into the stone itself. The strange effect seemed to happen to the other bodies as well.

"Huh, that's a piss-poor way to go," I said, reaching down and pulling out a vial, "I doubt devils have funerals anyways, but..."

I quickly dipped the vile into the metling flesh, and quickly retrieved a sample of the black ichor.

"It'd have to be closed casket."

"Hey Lye! Come on, we got to get through here and cross the Chasm of Chaos before we rest for a while!"

I stowed the black ichor before turning and following Livic, but my eyes never strayed from watching the curious eyes from the cliffs that shined malice at us.

<<Last Page - Page 12 - Next Page>>

<<Bonus Renders>>

[mysticstarlightduck]

OC in 15 or less Tag

Thank you for the Tag, @cowboybrunch (here)! <3

Rules: Share 15 or fewer lines of dialogue from an OC, ideally lines that capture the character/personality/vibe of the OC. Bonus points for just using the dialogue without other details about the scene, but you're free to include those as well!

I'm doing half of this for my OC Cory Blythe, from Mutant Inquiries, and the other half for Augustus Grimmure, from Enchanted Illusions for this tag!

Cory Blythe

"Listen, douchebag, I'm far too sober to deal with whatever this bullshit is right now and I'm already running late for my fucking job - by the way, I'm far more scared of my boss than I am of you. So how about you go mug someone else and I don't stab you with these heels?"

"And you seriously thought involving 'Miss Trust Fund' over here in our mess was a good idea? No! You just signed our early death certificate." [...] "Why? Oh my god, I don't know, Becky... maybe because her infamously overprotective dad is the CEO of a fucking multimillionaire enterprise and you just dragged his only daughter to the middle of a conspiracy?! I don't care if she wants to help! That's Violet Villarosa, for fuck's sake. We're dead now, we're so dead - I'll have a closed casket for sure."

"The more I live, the more I realize I might be the sanest person in this group of idiots. And that scares me."

"Are any of you going to explain why there's a random dude bleeding out in my brand-new car? No? Okay then."

"Becky," [they take a deep breath] "My best friend, my surrogate sister, the caffeinated cutie-pie of my life, I say this in the most polite way possible - I'd rather be waterboarded with lava than hear that plan ever again."

"Teague, let's make one thing very fucking clear - I'm following my side of the contract, so you can do whatever you want to me in the meantime. But my friends - my family - they're off limits, and if I ever find out you sent any one of your thugs after Rebecca or any of them again, it'll be the last goddamn thing you do. I don't care if you're the head of the mob, or if I'll be food for the fishes afterward - you're not the only one here with a pocketknife, fucker."

"I call dibs on the fluffy socks and the cereal!"

"Look, just because I'm not a mutant like you guys doesn't mean I can't seriously fuck somebody up with a shotgun. Now, one of you might want to take the wheel of this car 'cause I'm about to do just that."

Augustus Grimmure

Augustus felt rejuvenated - like he’d just woken up from a nice nap, adjusting his bloodstained dapper suit and glaring at the now soulless corpse. “Oh -" He looked down, noticing the crimson splatters on his coat "That’s just nonsense! Look at this, it's all ruined and covered in blood! It was my new suit! How dare he stab me.”

"My, my, it's a great deal of a fall from up here. I'm not so sure about this anymore, Hattie-" He looked over the speeding train's railing, turning to Harriet with a shaky, nervous chuckle. As he did, he noticed the outline of the two goons clambering into the wagon behind them, guns ready. "Oh, well, as some say - ladies first!" Before she could say anything, Augustus pushed her over the railing - summoning a portal beneath her. Two bullets flew past the spot where she'd just been standing, instead lodging themselves in the young necromancer, who jumped into the portal just before it closed.

"Well, you could attack us, boys, and I'll merely consume all your souls - string by string, painstakingly severing the cord between your life and afterlife until you're all empty husks. You know who I am, and what I can do to mercenaries who threaten people I hold dear." His eyes glowed in the dark, the mark on his wrist causing the mercenaries to stumble back in shock, as shadows swirled around him. "Now, are you sure this is a wise decision to make in the name of your boss, a man who was too lazy to even come get his own hands dirty?"

"I can't tell you more about it, love." He shook his head with a dejected smile, clutching his own arms in a vice grip. "About my deal, about the Deathbringer and what I did. I can't. It's, no - they're just too dangerous, and I made a mistake. I fear it... it won't end well."

"For some reason, I don't think your cousin likes me very much, Harriet." Augustus spoke under his breath after Vincent stormed out, a playful but somewhat serious lilt to his words, concerned. [She replies "It's not about you, per se. Vincent doesn't really like anyone"] The necromancer chuckled. "No, this seems so very personal."

"My grandma used to bring me to this place, when I was a kid." He mused, fiddling with the blue flower between his fingers, before placing it inside the book. "For a lonely commoner kid with a strange magic that everyone was afraid of, these dusty books were paradise. A world where maybe I really could be anyone."

"May I have this dance, darling? We may as well enjoy this uppity evening on our own terms, before anyone makes it otherwise."

Tagging - @oh-no-another-idea, @dreaminggoblin, @mitchell-nihil, @starlit-hopes-and-dreams,@yet-another-heathen @talesofsorrowandofruin, @thetruearchmagos, @writernopal, @i-can-even-burn-salad, @clairelsonao3, @little-peril-stories, @memento-morri-writes and @saltysupercomputer

[americanwh0resstuff]

You look good, open casket good…

Chapter I, from the earth to the morgue…

When Amy’s old uni flat mate, Ravi, offers her a job in the police department morgue, just till she gets on her feet. But how will she react when she finds out about the existence of zombies? Especially when one particular zombie is this charming?

What?? An actual fanfiction with multiple chapters???? Yep I’m gonna try my best here…

Word count: 1,083

From the earth to the morgue…

“Okay… so the new mortician is from England?”

Liv asked, quickly downing her brain smoothie, eyeing up Ravi before their new coworker arrived.

“Well, Scotland but close enough… you Americans and your geography…” he rolled his eyes and chuckled, polishing the currently empty autopsy tables, making sure the entire morgue was spotless.

“Remember our agreement. No brains in the kitchen when she’s around, she’s already stressed enough from the move, I don’t think she needs the pressure of a zombie ME on her back.”

Liv rolled her eyes and came back with “what if I blend them up? Cover them in breadcrumbs? What if-“ she was cut short by the sound of footsteps coming down the stairs.

“Ravi!!!” The duo turned on their heels to see a short women, covered in tattoos and a few piercings, but that’s not what stood out.

Their eyes studied her, her pale skin, dark sunken eyes, white streaks in her black hair.

Ravi looked shocked.

“Amy, you’re a-“

“Still a goth yeah I know… it never really was a phase.” She laughed at her own joke, giggling oblivious to their concerns.

“Right, yep, still a goth…” Ravi collected himself and shot Liv a look, both slightly relieved that the new mortician was not in fact undead.

Amy felt slightly uncomfortable in the silence, looking between the two and taking a step forward, extending her hand to Liv.

“Hi I’m Amy, Ravi mentioned you! Said you’re an amazing colleague!” She smiled wide as she shook her hand. “Nice hair! I had bleached hair for a while but it’s such a hassle! That’s why I stick with the highlights, less maintenance! How do you get your so white!?”

“Oh I-well I was already a blonde so… you know, less…bleach?” Liv questioned her own answer, unsure of how to respond.

“I’m sorry I’m talking your ear off, so where do I start?”

•••

About a week passed and the famous duo turned to the famous trio, Amy’s dark jokes and bubbly personality contrasting her darker look quickly became a staple in the workplace. Her knowledge of true crime and disturbing facts always amused Clive, her and Liv would have many fun chats about fashion and makeup, and it never phased her when her personality would changed.

As for her and Ravi, they still got along as they did in uni, constantly playing pranks on Liv, joking around and fighting over style choices on the deceased, to which Clive always disapproved. ~”cut that out! Ravi let her do her work, she’s the mortician… and I don’t think anyone should take fashion advice from you… dead or alive.”~

“Okay guys I’m heading out for lunch, anyone want anything?” Amy asked, grabbing her bag and making sure she had her purse.

“We’re all good thanks!”

Ravi smiled at her and watched her turn and head out the bay door, waiting till she was out of site before pulling out his phone.

Liv looked at him puzzled. “What are you up to now?”

“Calling Blaine, he’s upstairs waiting on his weekly checkup, and I’m not letting him near Amy, he doesn’t need to annoy her like he annoys us”

She chuckled at his panicked voice and nodded in agreement, he was right, Blaine can be a huge pain in the ass, and the less people he annoys the better, plus knowing him, he’s never able to meet a woman without hitting on her.

“Hey there doctor! How are you doing on this fine day!” Ravi rolled his eyes upon hearing his voice, taunting him with the smug look on his face.

“Sit here and be quiet.” Blaine cocked his eyebrow at Liv.

“Snappy. Who’s brain did you eat?”

She scoffed and turned back to the kitchen, preparing her lunch while she could.

Since she didn’t have much time, she kept it simple, pure old brains in a cup of ramen.

Blaine sat down on the autopsy table, rolling up his sleeves for the blood pressure cuff, looking up at the ceiling as the inspection went on in silence.

Until…

“I’m such an idiot, got all the way to the bagel shop before I realised it was closed on Wednesdays!”

They all looked up to see their human coworker standing at the door, in a room with two zombies…

Liv looked at Ravi in panic mouthing “say something!”

“Oh-you’re back ear-“

Blaine cut him off.

“And who are you? Looks like you’re new to team Z?” He took a good look at her, taking in her pale skin and blonde streaks. Ravi poked him in the back and tried to cut him off.

“I’m Amy!” She said enthusiastically, always friendly…

“I’m sorry, Team what?”

Blaine’s eyes widened and he sat up straight

“So you’re human… is this a style choice or?” She looked at him slightly confused but laughed it off.

“Oh don’t go making vampire jokes, I heard enough of those in high school.” She smiled and walked towards him on the table.

“Blaine DeBeers, nice to meet you, you have the most beautiful eyes…” he grasped her hand.

He could practically feel Ravi and Livs eyes rolling and burning into his back.

“…well then, looks like you’re all done here! See you next week.”

“Woah doc, you should work on your bedside manner, not very professional!”

Amy blushed lightly and looked down, she had to admit he was attractive, but something felt off, which was accentuated by her coworkers dirty looks towards him.

“What’s a pretty girl like you doing in here, don’t tell me you’re Ravis girlfriend, cuz I know that’s a lie!”

She laughed at his joke and looked over at Ravi, who she could swear was trying to telepathically murder the man in front of her.

“I’m a mortician, I just moved to Seattle, Ravi helped me get a job, it’s just short term, till I find something more secure… not a lot of people want their loved ones cared for in a police department.”

Blaine’s eyes lit up and he smirked at her before pulling a business card from his jacket.

“Well luckily for you… I run a funeral home, and I’m looking for a mortician, my numbers on the back, give me a call sometime.” He winked at her before turning towards the stairs.

“Well then, looks like I should get going, thanks again doc! See you next week.” He nodded towards Ravi and Liv before peering over his shoulder at Amy.

“And hopefully I’ll see you sooner.”

Chapter II

[renaerys]

Open Casket, Open Bar (SasoSaku Month 2022)

Summary: It's the day of the Third Tsuchikage's funeral, but a blond, idiot-shaped successor has misplaced his corpse, oh no! Luckily, Sasori knows his way around a dead body, and Sakura can't help but sort of be super into it.

Rating: T

World: Another Kazekage!Sasori AU featuring please-don’t-drag-me-into-your-bullshit Sakura, who is promptly dragged into all of the bullshit.

Read it below or on AO3 

xxx

Sasori didn’t do funerals. Not for lack of dead people to bury (by that metric, he was top of the leaderboard because the leaderboard was the War and war was his business, or used to be). Not for lack of trying, either (Chiyo had an aggressive case of that musty, greasy-sweet old people smell and her teeth popped out when she cackled, which were all very good reasons to remind her to please hurry up and croak any day now). 

But Chiyo was back in Suna probably rearranging all his furniture because she knew how much he hated it when she did that. He was going to come home to find an entire sofa in his kitchen again because she liked to sit comfortably while waiting for her tea to steep and these old bones can’t be running around your house all day. Sasori debated poisoning her when he got back, but she’d surely take that as an invitation for retaliation or worse, a sign of affection.

And anyway, Sasori was here at some old dead guy’s wake in Iwa—

(“How did you know Grandpa Shin?”)

(“Who?”)

—availing himself of the open bar—

(“I’m sorry for your loss.”)

(“Sorry enough to hand over the whole bottle?”)

—with Kakashi’s extremely uncooperative head medic.

“You are not getting wasted at a funeral,” she hissed, snatching the bottle of whiskey out of his hands, “sir.” To spite him, she took a swig from the bottle directly.

As if this would deter him. 

“This isn’t our funeral,” Sasori reminded her. 

“That is even worse. What if they kick us out? Gods, what if someone recognizes us?” She took another sip from the bottle. 

With her bright pink hair and the infamous Yin Seal tramp-stamped onto her generously wide forehead, Haruno Sakura was perhaps more recognizable on sight than even Sasori himself, at least when he was not in his office’s full regalia, like right now. Meaning, if they were found out and then forcibly ejected from Iwa for the rest of eternity, it would one hundred percent be her fault. 

Ergo, the drinking.

“If you continue to look suspiciously around like you’re waiting for the opportune time to snatch the corpse from its casket and escape before anyone notices, you will absolutely be recognized.”

“Except we are waiting for that opportune time and we are here to steal a corpse, actually.”

Sasori laid a heavy hand on her shoulder and leaned into her personal space. She shivered when he pressed his mouth close enough to her ear to feel the warmth of his words, as softly delivered as a stiletto between the ribs. “Perhaps don’t announce our nefarious plan before we can actually pull it off, Sakura.”

“Sir, I…” Distracted by the warmth behind his words and the threatening shape they took, Sakura didn’t notice when he took the whiskey bottle back and slid it out of her reach. Only when he pulled back and took a self-satisfied drink directly from the bottle did her flushed, dreamy expression warp with indignation. “That was very dirty.”

“You are easily distracted.”

“And you are the Kazekage—” Sakura lowered her voice to a scene-appropriate quietly choke on glass, please level. “I cannot believe I was roped into this. I don’t even work for you.”

Sasori could believe it. Every business dinner or summit he had attended with Kakashi over the years, Sakura had been there as part of his Hokage entourage. She’d always been well-spoken and erudite, and she made up for Kakashi’s indolence and casual lack of propriety with no-bullshit professionalism and efficiency whenever work was involved. The Suna-Konoha alliance didn’t maintain itself; that was the job of the respective guards, assistants, and advisors of the Kazekage’s and Hokage’s offices. Between her, Nara Shikamaru, Temari, and Kankuro, the alliance had survived a decade strong. 

Of course she was getting roped into this latest nonsense. Kakashi certainly wasn’t going to do it himself.

Sasori refilled the glass he’d been using and nudged it toward her across the bar. “No, but I am not about to kidnap and transport the Tsuchikage’s misplaced corpse across town without cashing in on a long overdue favor.”

Sakura grimaced. She accepted the whiskey glass without protest and brought it to her lips. Easily won-over too, Sasori mused, hiding a smirk behind another drag from the bottle.

“I am going to burn every dirty magazine in Kakashi’s collection when we get back to Konoha.”

“If you’re set on felony retribution, I would suggest you focus your energies on the hapless idiot who got us into this mess.”

In and out and no one’ll even notice you’re gone, Deidara had said. I can’t leave the wake or I’d do it myself, he’d said. Deidara had unfortunately not agreed to Sasori’s very reasonable suggestion to abdicate his position as Tsuchikage-elect immediately so that he could leave Oonoki’s wake and go collect the body-swapped corpse himself. 

(“Deidara, you cannot possibly be serious.”)

(“Serious as a prostate exam, yeah.”)

(“But how could you have lost track of Oonoki’s body? You are not even formally in power yet. Overseeing your predecessor’s funeral rights is literally your only job right now.”)

(“Listen, there were a lot of old dead fuckers at the morgue and they all looked the same, and the paperwork was taking forever, and it was colder than a snowman’s ballsack down there, and— Okay, okay, I know I fucked up.”)

(“You have colossally fucked up.”)

(“Day zero and I already shit the bed—”)

(“A bed of lies and ineptitude of the highest order.”)

(“I get it, okay? My man, I wouldn’t ask if I wasn’t desperate. No one will miss you for a couple hours except me, yeah.”)

(“So not only do you want me to clean up your mess and commit a treaty-breaking felony for you, but you’re also suggesting I am so unsociable and disliked that no one will care that I’m gone.”)

(“I mean, I was trying to compliment our beautiful bond of friendship, but tell me more about your popularity complex, yeah.”)

(“Deidara.”)

(“Yuh-huh?”)

(“Stop fucking talking.”)

“No no, as far as I’m concerned Deidara is your dead body to bury. I don’t care how many favors Kakashi owes you; I draw the line at being loaned out for body snatching contract work. Sir.” Sakura added the honorific as an afterthought, a respectfully, fuck you that made Sasori grin. Unfortunately, she was preoccupied with her drink and her self-pity and didn’t notice him watching her. 

Not that Sasori had expected the Hokage to accompany him personally (in his experience, Kakashi was supernaturally good at getting out of his responsibilities or else being so monumentally unhelpful in them that everyone else decided it was best he not bother). But he also had not expected Kakashi to offer up his head medic in his place. 

(“So just to make sure I understand you correctly, you want to help Deidara—”)

(“I supremely fucking don’t, actually—”)

(“—crash someone else’s funeral to steal back the Tsuchikage’s cadaver—”)

(“It’s not a party, Kakashi. No one will be crashing anything—”)

(“—and bring it back here before anyone notices the dead guy in the casket is actually just some random farmer?”)

(“Yes. You owe me.”)

(Kakashi had smiled warmly behind that childish mask he insisted on wearing to this day. “Well, lucky for you, I know someone who’s very good with a dead body.”)

“He said what?” Sakura gripped her glass so hard it broke in her hand. 

Sasori sighed. There was no point in belaboring the point. They were here, and they were not leaving without all four-and-a-half feet of their decomposing prize. He flagged down one of the bartenders to clean up the shards and spilled whiskey. The man looked from Sakura’s distraught face and the mess she’d made to Sasori with his fist white-knuckling around the neck of the bottle and made a noise of sympathy.

“My deepest condolences for your loss—”

“Please go away,” Sakura interrupted at the same time as Sasori said, “You can fuck off now.”

The bartender snatched the towel full of broken glass and backed away slowly. 

“You are very rude, you know,” Sakura said. 

“That’s my right as Kazekage.”

She rolled her eyes and reached for a new glass behind the bar. Sasori poured her a couple fingers and watched her throw them back in one shot, make a face at the burn, and decisively push the glass away. “Okay, so we are actually doing this. Gods forgive me.”

“It’s Deidara who should be asking for forgiveness at the end of this.”

“That is one funeral I will happily attend.”

“Cheers.”

xxx

Predictably, Sasori did not like her suggestion that they mingle and at least try to look like they belonged at this wake. If left to his own devices, Sakura was sure he would remain sitting at the bar, get completely sloshed, and leave her to do all the heavy lifting, literally. Well, not today. Sakura had taken her best friend Ino’s advice and chosen a form-flattering black dress in the western style for the Tsuchikage’s funeral, elegant for the occasion but hot enough to wear to the bars she planned to visit afterwards with Shī and Kiri and the other medics she’d become friendly with over the years at these international gatherings. If she had to be here plotting to commit a crime, then she was going to make the most of how good she looked. 

The event was lively, at least, as lively as a funeral could be. There was bar music playing, and the dive bar that the family had rented out for the occasion was set up with standing tables for people to gather and chat. Some of the guests laughed as they traded stories about the deceased’s happier memories. The open casket at the back of the room was surrounded with offerings of food, dried flowers, and framed pictures. It was actually quite a nice event that someone had clearly put some effort into planning. Too bad they were celebrating the wrong dead body. 

Sakura set her shoulders and wandered to the viewing casket, where a young woman stood weeping quietly. “Are you all right?” she asked, handing her a tissue. 

“Hm? Oh, yes, I’m sorry,” the young woman said. She accepted the tissue and blew her nose. “It’s just so sad!”

Sakura had no choice but to take back the used tissue when the woman handed it back. “Super sad.”

“Even in death, he looks so young and vibrant, don’t you think so?”

Sakura peered at the weathered face of Oonoki, former Third Tsuchikage of Iwa, frowning so hard he looked like he’d died constipated. “Um…”

“How did you know Grandpa Shin?”

Shit, don’t panic.

Just be cool. 

What would Ino do?

“We dated,” Sakura said smoothly (nailed it).

The young woman stopped crying. “I’m sorry, did you just say you dated Grandpa Shin?”

“What?”

I said what now?

The young woman looked quite lucid as she regarded Sakura. “Oh my stars, are you that nurse Aunt Rinko fired? Michiko something or other?” She gasped. “I knew it! You did seduce him, and they tried to cover it up.”

Sakura sensed that this was spiraling way out of control. “Whoa, okay, well first of all, I’m actually a doctor, not a nurse—”

“Like I wouldn’t figure it out.” She was in her own head now, not even seeing Sakura. “Shotaro is gonna shit his pants when I tell him we were right this whole time.”

“Who? Hey, wait a minute, you don’t have to tell anyone—aaaand she’s gone.”

The young woman darted off to spread her hot gossip, leaving Sakura alone with Oonoki’s open casket feeling oddly sheepish. “This is your fault,” she berated the dead body.

“Paying your respects, I see.” Sasori appeared out of nowhere looking irritable, like a recurring rash. At least he didn’t sound like he’d been drinking. “How did mingling go?”

“I think I just landed myself in a sex scandal with a 90-year-old man.”

“You were gone for five minutes.”

“It was an accident.”

Sasori peered at Oonoki resting peacefully in the wrong coffin. Then he looked Sakura up and down. “He could have done a lot worse for himself, I guess.”

Sakura gaped. “He could have…”

“Come on, before you panic again and start confessing to illicit affairs with all the other Kages too.”

What Sakura would have given to punch the Kazekage without repercussions just then. Instead, she used her words: “Not all of them, just the hot ones.”

Sasori’s gaze lingered on her, not curious but also not not curious. 

Joke’s on you, sir. They’re all hot.

She skipped away to mingle some more.

xxx

Surprisingly, stealing Oonoki’s cadaver wasn’t the hard part; schlepping it across Iwa in broad daylight was. 

For starters, it had begun to rain. 

“Well, this can’t possibly get any worse,” Sakura said cheerfully as she shouldered the dead Tsuchikage she and Sasori had burrito-wrapped in a table cloth.

At which point, some tidy citizen dumped the contents of a latrine out a second story window directly in their path. Sasori luckily noticed it in time and stopped before he could pass under the cascade. Sakura, walking behind him with their ill-gotten burden, did not. 

In a very unfortunate collision between the physics of inertia and fast shinobi footwork, Sasori managed to twist them around before they could splash through the piss puddle, but Oonoki’s corpse slipped from Sakura’s grasp and kept going. It landed in a dirty puddle of rainwater and splashed Sasori’s pristine, white tabi socks. 

For a moment, he could only stare in disbelief at this utterly disgraceful outcome. Sakura recovered first. Tucked snugly within Sasori’s arm that had caught her, she covered her face with her hands. “I don’t know how that happened.”

“You dropped him,” Sasori pointed out.

“I dropped—wait, how is this my fault?”

“I pulled you to safety. You’re the one who let him go.”

Sakura looked ready to pop. “You’re the one who said we should take the back alleys to avoid suspicion, and look what happened!” She pointed menacingly at the second story apartment where the instigating piss pour had come from. 

“Just pick him up before he gets soaked.”

“Why should I? You pick him up!”

“I’m not the one who dropped him.”

“Oh, for the love of—”

A crack of thunder heralded an onslaught of more rain, heavy and sheet-like, and in seconds, Sasori’s clothes were soaked through. Sakura shrieked, swiped the swaddled corpse off the damp ground with one effortless, super-powered fist, and took off sprinting after Sasori down the alley.

It was by the grace of the gods (in Sakura’s opinion) or by sheer, dumb luck (by Sasori’s estimation) that they managed to arrive back at the pavilion where Oonoki’s wake was being held without running into anyone they knew. Even so, as Sasori held the door for Sakura to muscle her way through with Oonoki’s body slung over her shoulder, he couldn’t shake his paranoia. 

“What the—hey!”

Sasori ignored her protests and placed a heavy hand over her head, now covered by his damp, formal haori. “Be quiet and keep moving.”

Sakura grumbled something about not taking orders from him, but Sasori tightened his grip on her hair through the haori and marched them through the grey corridors. 

“Lord Kazekage?” asked a puzzled voice behind them that Sasori vaguely recognized but couldn’t place. 

“Fuck.” He manhandled Sakura around a sharp corner, opened the first door he found, and shoved her inside.

It was dark and a little cramped, and Sakura had once more dropped Oonoki’s body on the floor.

“Sasori—”

Sasori shoved her hard against the wall, trapped her very dangerous arms with his chakra threads, and clamped a hand over her mouth before she could give them away. She squirmed, but a harsh shh shut her up long enough for Sasori to listen for the footsteps jogging by outside. She must have heard them too because she stopped struggling and fell totally silent. 

They waited a beat. 

When Sasori was satisfied that they’d lost whoever it was that had recognized him, he relaxed a little. Sakura didn’t move to push him away (not that she could have with his strings around her). His eyes adjusted to the darkness enough to make out the shape of her features. The light filtering in from the crack under the doorway glinted in her eyes just enough to read her confused indignation. 

Sasori removed his hand from her mouth. “Since when are you so informal with me, Sakura?”

He couldn’t see in the gloom, but he could hear the blush behind her words when she retorted, “Since you shoved me in a closet and tied me up with chakra strings, sir.”

Sasori chuckled softly. “Ah, so stealing a dead body is par for the course, but this is where you draw the line.”

“Hey, don’t drag him into this. He did nothing wrong.”

She was bolder than he remembered. Perhaps years of a close working relationship, even with a taciturn cynic like himself, could have that familiarizing effect on people. Then again, she had never had his undivided attention for an entire afternoon as they committed a funeral heist in a foreign country. Maybe Kakashi was right about her proficiency with a corpse. 

This specific thought endeared Sasori to her more than he expected. 

That, and the fact that he could feel the elevated rise and fall of her chest pressed flush against him through their wet clothing. 

“Fine,” Sasori said, “just you and me, then.” 

Sakura must have clocked something warm and ruthless in his voice, because now she stiffened with prey instinct. “Well, I mean, that’s—” She cleared her throat. “Do you think the coast is clear?”

Sasori slowly retracted his strings and parted from her body. “Well, we can’t spend the rest of the afternoon in here.”

“No, of course not…”

The darkness hid his smirk as he cracked the door open and peered outside. No one was around, so he beckoned for Sakura to follow. She hauled Oonoki’s body onto her shoulder effortlessly, Sasori covered her hair with his haori again, and they were off once more. 

xxx

“So, not only is my dress ruined and my hair a mess,” Sakura ground out, “but he smells like a dead body.”

“He is a dead body,” Sasori said.

Sakura didn’t care for his patronizing tone as she paced around the luxury bathroom Sasori had locked them inside. “This is an open casket wake. He cannot smell like that! And why is his face that color?”

Oonoki’s cheek was a splotchy, jaundiced bruise that had definitely not been there at the first wake. 

“The rain must have run his makeup,” Sasori said, looking pointedly at her. “You know, when you dropped him in that puddle.”

Sakura picked up the nearest item (a roll of toilet paper) and chucked it at Sasori’s head. He snatched it with his strings and hovered it back to the sink like the prodigious jerk he was. “I don’t deserve this,” she whined.

“You can lay your grievances at Kakashi’s feet later. For now, help me undress him.”

“I’m sorry?”

“He needs to be rinsed clean, obviously.” 

Sakura looked between Sasori supporting Oonoki’s body with his chakra strings and the handicap shower stall he was angling for. She hung her head in her hands. “We are surely going to hell for this.”

“Sakura, his pants, if you don’t mind.”

If she wasn’t damned for de-pantsing the Tsuchikage’s corpse, surely her imminent murder of Kakashi would do the trick. Grumbling profanities, Sakura nonetheless got down to business helping Sasori undress Oonoki, turning on the shower, and holding the curtain open for Sasori to maneuver him under the spray. 

She didn’t want to watch, obviously, except the way Sasori made the body move was so natural she nearly forgot it was dead. When Oonoki effortlessly reached for the shampoo to wash his own hair, Sakura couldn’t help but marvel at the performance. 

“He must be as stiff as a board with rigor mortis by now,” she said. “How are you making him move so fluidly?”

“Because I’m very good.”

Sakura didn’t have it in her to knock him for that one. He was right, after all. “It’s remarkable.”

Sasori regarded her. “He’s no different from any other human puppet under my thrall.”

Right, like she could forget about Sasori’s collection. She had fought alongside his Third Kazekage puppet herself years ago when Gaara had been kidnapped by terrorists intent on extracting his tailed beast. Sasori had taken his old mentor’s body when the man died suddenly before his time and preserved his power to protect Suna for the next generation. But there were also rumors that Sasori had murdered the Third himself. Sakura had never given much stock to the rumors, of course. He was the Kazekage!

“It’s almost a shame we have to return him,” Sasori said. “I wouldn’t mind adding another Kage to my collection.”

Well, pardon the fuck outta me.

He must have read the surprise in her expression, because he smirked in such a way that did nothing to settle her. “Relax. I’m only joking.”

Sakura averted her gaze and crossed her arms. “Maybe don’t quit your day job, sir.”

She felt the weight of his gaze on her, something thoughtful but unreadable. “Hm.”

Sakura looked around for something to change the subject before she did something insane like ask him how he made human puppets in the first place (that would require significantly more to drink than she’d had, so maybe later tonight). 

“Hey, wait a minute. What are we going to dress him in once he’s clean?”

“The clothes he was wearing before, obviously.”

“No way, his funeral clothes are as wet and ruined as ours. People will absolutely notice the smell if we do that.”

“Unless you have a men’s suit hiding under that skirt, then I don’t see much other choice.”

Sakura rolled her eyes and moved around the spacious bathroom. “There must be something… Oh!” She pulled out a navy yukata folded on the shelf next to the sink counter. It was a one-size-fits-all men’s robe, but it was dry and clean and it would certainly look better than the bilge water-soaked suit Oonoki had been wearing before. “This should work just fine!”

She unfolded the garment to show Sasori, and he frowned. “Why does it say ‘Mr.’ on the back?”

“Huh? Whatever, no one will see the back, anyway. Come on, let’s dry him off and get him dressed!”

Sasori and Sakura surveyed their work once Oonoki was laid flat on the fold-out diaper changing counter with critical eyes. 

“Well, he looks,” Sakura trailed off. 

“Dead.”

“I mean, yeah.”

“He looks like he was dropped on his head in the street.”

Sakura stiffened. “I wouldn’t go that far—”

“You must have dropped him on his face back in the alley.”

“Can we please stop talking about that? How are we going to explain this?”

“We can just reapply his makeup. What do you have on you?”

“Oh, that’s not a bad idea, actually.” Sakura checked her purse. It was damp like the rest of her, but the tube of lipstick and the stick of foundation she usually carried were in fine condition. “This is all I have.”

Sasori examined the products with a critical eye. “This is a cheap brand.”

Sakura gaped at him. “For your information, they don’t test on animals and they’re hypoallergenic—”

A knock at the door startled them both. Sakura said, “It’s occupied!” at the same time as Sasori said, “Go away.”

The person on the other side muttered a hasty apology, and they heard fast footsteps receding. It hit Sakura then that whoever had knocked probably thought she and Sasori were in here getting busy, and that was just the icing on the fuck-this-day cake she did not need. 

“Anyway, you can’t wear this shit,” Sasori said, even as he opened up the foundation and hovered over Oonoki’s face. “It isn’t even your shade. I’ll get you something better later.”

Sakura was too affronted to consider what he meant by later. “Since when do you know so much about makeup?”

“Since I have good taste and a discerning eye. Now, go clean yourself up while I fix him.”

Unfortunately, he wasn’t wrong about needing to get cleaned up. She couldn’t show her face at the wake in sodden clothes smelling like the streets and dead old man. However, showering with two Kages in the room, one of whom was extremely dead, was not exactly an inviting atmosphere. Sakura resolved to hurry up and get it over with as she hastily undressed behind the shower curtain and scrubbed herself clean. 

“Hey, can you hand me one of the women’s yukata, please?” Sakura stuck her hand out from behind the curtain. 

After a moment of shuffling, Sasori handed her the clean garment and she unfolded it. “Oh, no.”

“What’s the problem now?” Sasori asked, irritated. 

Sakura bit her lip. She was tempted to think nothing else could go wrong on a day full of wrongs, but recent history told her otherwise. She opted for denial. “Nothing! All good, super good.”

She emerged from the shower dry and clean and changed into the yukata, and Sasori didn’t spare her a glance as he finished with Oonoki. And, to be fair, he must not have been kidding when he said he had a discerning eye, because the work looked very professional. 

“Wow, he almost looks alive,” Sakura said, admiring the artificial flush in his cheeks Sasori had somehow achieved with her lipstick. 

“I’m good with dead bodies,” Sasori said. 

“Yeah, you really are.”

Sasori glanced at her askance, but Sakura was too busy admiring the miracle he had worked on Oonoki’s complexion. 

“Hey, if we get caught and have to resign in disgrace, we could always open up a mortuary or something. I’ll haul, you paint,” Sakura joked. 

“Tempting. Though, I doubt Kakashi would let you go so easily.”

Sakura grinned imagining how that conversation would play out. The paperwork she’d be leaving him with alone would be reason enough for Kakashi to protest. “Hm, leaving him for the Kazekage, I bet he’d be less than thrilled.”

Sasori was silent a beat, and Sakura found him watching her intently. He had always had an air of intensity about him, but to have it focused solely on her and so close was—well, not unsettling, but spine-tingling. The way having any very attractive, very powerful person’s full attention was spine-tingling. 

Aaaaand we’re not going to find the Kazekage hot in a bathroom with a dead body, thank you, next.

Sakura wondered if this whole ordeal wasn’t making her a little bit crazy. Or a little bit horny. She coughed. “Um, so, did you want to clean up? Sir?” 

“Ah. I’ll be quick.”

He disappeared behind the shower curtain, and Sakura was left to twiddle her thumbs alongside the dead body until he was done.

xxx

“Holy fucking shit, I owe you,” Deidara gushed when he had a moment away from schmoozing the high profile guests. 

“You will be repaying me for the rest of your very short life,” Sasori confirmed as he sipped his drink. 

“Kurotsuchi almost figured it out, yeah.” Deidara leaned in close. “She was all, let’s open up the casket early, and I was like, but why, and she was like, but why not, and I had to make up some shit about a generational curse triggering if we don’t wait, like, exactly until five to show—”

“Deidara.”

“Yeah?”

“Shut up.”

Deidara grinned and actually had the audacity to hug Sasori right there where anybody could see. “I love you, man.”

“I am this close to committing a violent tort,” Sasori said as he allowed the contact (so as not to make a scene, obviously). 

“Well, you two seem in high spirits.” Kakashi appeared in formal black with a smile in his eye. “I gather everything went smoothly?”

Sasori considered how a wandering Darui had nearly happened upon him tucking Oonoki into the casket in the viewing room while Sakura hauled the dead farmer’s body out to stash in a closet. It was only by the grace of an insistent Terumi Mei pulling him back to the festivities before he could flake off for a nap that they were not discovered by either Kage in flagrante. 

“Of course,” Sasori lied easily. 

“No issues?” 

“Not a single one.”

“That’s good!” 

Sasori was too busy catching sight of Sakura across the room chatting with a few of her fellow medics. She laughed at something Darui’s head medic, Shī something or other, had said. Sasori watched as her friendly hand lingered on the Kumo nin’s arm.

“I just have a question,” Kakashi kept talking. 

Sasori wondered if Shī would have been able to steal Oonoki’s corpse with Sakura, and decided against it. The guy looked like he drank celery juice and trained for marathons and made sure everyone knew it. “What,” Sasori said just as Sakura looked up and caught him watching her. 

“Why are you and my favorite former student wearing matching His and Hers yukata?”

Deidara fully spit out his drink on a passing server and began to choke.

Sasori took a sip from his drink, unfazed. “We got a little…wet.”

“P-Please—” Deidara sputtered, about to die laughing around his sake. The server he’d sprayed on patted his back in alarm. 

Sakura had noticed the three Kages all looking at her and began to make her way across the room toward them. 

“I see,” Kakashi said, still smiling. “I’m relieved it all worked out.”

Before Sakura approached them, Sasori said, “By the way, you might want to keep a careful eye on your porn after today.”

Kakashi stiffened at the loaded warning.

“This looks like a very suspicious meeting of the minds,” Sakura said as she joined them. 

Deidara took one look at the monogramed Mrs. on her yukata and had to be escorted away for water. Sakura looked puzzled at the “Congratulations!” he choked out as he went. 

“Look at the time,” Kakashi said. “I just remembered I have to go check on something.” He teleported out of there before Sakura could get a word in edge-wise. 

And then, it was just the two of them. 

“Why do I get the feeling he knows I’m plotting my revenge?” Sakura grumbled.

Sasori eyed her drink. “Enjoying yourself?”

“About as much as anyone can at a funeral.”

Sasori slipped a hand along the small of Sakura’s back just below her obi. “Next time will be better.”

Sakura cocked a brow. She didn’t push his hand away. “Are you suggesting we hang out with a dead body again sometime?”

“Well, my grandmother isn’t long for this world, hopefully.”

“What a terrible thing to say! Chiyo-baa-sama is a legend.”

“Legends are necessarily dead.”

“She can’t be so bad.”

Sasori fixed her with a condescending look. “She once dumped out all my good sake and replaced it with arsenic acid just to see if I would notice in time.”

“That is an egregious waste of fine sake.”

Sasori grinned. “I will save you a front-row seat at her funeral.”

“It’s a date, sir.”

A staffer announced that the viewing room was being opened up for everyone to pay their respects to Oonoki directly. His granddaughter, Kurotsuchi, would be giving a eulogy. 

Sakura made to follow the flow of traffic, but Sasori caught her with his strings and pulled her close enough to murmur in her ear, “In that case, don’t be so formal with me, Sakura.”

The surprising heat in her eyes at his suggestion, the same as earlier this afternoon when he spoke to her so intimately, would be the inspiration he needed to sit through today’s rites. He parted from her to join the Suna delegation inside, feeling quite pleased with himself. 

Perhaps Chiyo would kindly consider choking on her favorite bean casserole in the service of her only grandson securing a date with the world’s greatest medical ninja. 

xxx

True love is grave-robbing a corpse together and then aggressively flirting over the dead body. I literally do not know how either of them could end up with anyone but each other. 

[overthinkingtaleblr]

I remember looking through MaddieFriendLovesBilly's shiplist, and seeing something about how Jimmy and Gavin could be a formidable duo if working together and now I'm thinking about it.

Like Gavin is trying to get some Intel from this guy but the hostage ain't spilling and goes "oh yeah? And what if I dont?" as they say this, something moves in the dark, just out of peripheral vision.

"well, I couldn't do this on my own and I need... compensation." Gavin looks at something behind them and continues, "he isn't patient, so either tell me or he starts taking it by himself"

As they think this over, they can here whatever is behind them: soft footsteps, the sudden scrape of metal, eyes drilling into their back hungrily. Take too long to choose or get snarky? A finger is bit off. That seels the deal.

And when Gavin's done with everything and he doesn't need the hostage anymore? He just looks into the darkness behind them and calls out, "all yours Jimmy." And watches the guy run in a panic. It ends with a dead and half cannibalised hostage, and Jimmy taking a partly eaten hand back home.

That scene sounds incredibly badass, but I do think that Jimmy Casket would be a bit difficult to control (see: hold back), even with bribery… but, depending on how Gavin is, there’s a nonzero chance that he Pavlov’d the great Jimmy Casket into waiting for his kills.

Also, I feel like it would be interesting if Casket being utilized in this way had an effect on Ghost’s mental health. Like, it’s one thing for the guy who possesses your body to be well-practiced but overall just spontaneous, but if Gavin is making plans to commit organized crimes with him, that means multiple things are suddenly different about Jimmy and Ghost’s dynamic. For start: it means that Jimmy has somewhere to be when he possesses Ghost and he isn’t just doing it to clear out the area of all life or something. There’s a plan, a sudden method to the madness, and Jimmy might start actively interfering in PIE’s affairs to ensure that he’s able to make it to the next event Gavin offered him a free body at.

It does also mean that Gavin would have both less and more of a reason to impersonate his brother to get close to Ghost. A lot of the process of getting Casket to trust him would probably have included communicating to Ghost since… it means he’s less likely to get fatally stabbed on a first encounter... And also eaten according to your ask. Even with respawns, I imagine that would hurt a lot. Also, I like how Gavin and Jimmy can pull off a hot and cold dynamic here, with Gavin being cunning and sly and casket just being chaos incarnate. Gavin sounds like a supervillain in this, which is really cool tbh it sounds like he can pull that off well.

(Now might be a good time to admit that I see Jimmy less like a person and more like a force of nature— something that can’t be trained or controlled, but can be planned for and mitigated to prevent as much damage as possible. Aside from a possible stint with DIE, which would only be possible if J.Cranky understands how Casket thinks, he’s not much of a team player. He’s here for a good time, and is apparently a major introvert in my hcs… also as someone who has a human-eating Jenny Ghost. I could see them getting roped into this)

[emphasisonthehomo]

📓

You know how I said I didn't think there was anything to a death industry au? I've been thinking about it a lot, and there is something there. Most of this has been in my drafts for a couple days, while I think thinky thoughts on it. Just gotta take it out of the admin side, to make it more generally interesting tbh. Because what I do is actually pretty boring unless you've got strong administrative opinions.

~

Danny as a licensed embalmer/mortician/whatever (idk how it works in Hawai’i or Jersey) that works at a family owned joint. The pay is pretty good and the hours are flexible, because they don’t care when he works as long as the decedent is ready to go in time for services.

He doesn't generally meet with families. Unless someone has specifically requested to dress their loved one. Then he does help people out with that, because putting clothes on dead (ha) weight can actually be very difficult if you don't know what you're doing.

(Steve has no idea, but Danny is actually the guy that prepped John McGarrett for burial. It was closed casket, short graveside service, so no embalming necessary. But Danny was still the one who made sure that John was in uniform, with all requisite medals and ribbons in the correct place, before he went to the cemetery.)

Danny knows Max because every once and a while he picks up a deceased after the medical examiner is finished w/ the autopsy or whatever. They have a lot of Professional Respect for each other, from being on different sides of the Works With Dead Bodies Industry.

(“Dr. Bergman, why is it whenever I pickup a case from you, it’s always the worst? Look at this guy. The family wants open casket, and I’m gonna have to pull a miracle out of my ass.”

The body in question is at the marbling stage of decomp, and smells like it. The cosmetizing Danny’s gonna have to do to make the guy normal colored is astronomical. That’s not even getting into the state of the head. The spouse is gonna have to provide a hat for sure. He hopes the director can talk her into closing the casket for services.

“He was shot in the temple Mr. Williams. Besides, you’ll be able to manage that.”

“...Yeah. Probably,” Because Danny is Very Good at what he does, and the guy isn’t actually the absolute worst he’s ever seen. There's not even any insect activity, which is shocking.)

Anyways, one day Danny comes into work and there’s a body in his fridge that was not there yesterday when he left. He knows who he’s supposed to have in his care, and this person? Not one of them. When he gets a closer look, there’s a huge gaping wound in the chest and oh shit. Okay. Yeah. Fuck, he’s gotta call 911.

Anyways, Five-0 gets called in, because a dead body appeared over night in a locked room with no sign of break in.

(“Mr. Williams, it’s interesting to see you at your place of work, instead of my own.”

“Yeah. I gotta be honest, I don’t think I like it Dr. Bergman.”)

Danny’s in scrubs and PPE, and he smells like chemicals and death, and it’s tragic because that Commander is uh. Nice to look at. Danny’s seen him a few times in passing, when he’s been by the medical examiners to do a removal. If he didn't look like a horror movie, Danny would be tempted to flirt. Don't get him wrong, he still does, but he's not as blatant about it as he would be if they bumped into each other at a bar or something.

Anyways, what happens from there is just, the weirdest slowest courtship imaginable. Because now it seems almost every time Danny comes by to pick someone up, Commander McGarrett is there. And they exchange hellos and small talk. And it’s a coincidence, it’s gotta be.

Steve meanwhile has been flirting with the idea of uh. Letting those Gay Thoughts catch up with him, since he's gone to the reserves. Mr. Williams is attractive, with a fire cracker personality and Steve's just. Curious. You know. Wants to get to know him. But Steve's also never navigated the awkward terrain of trying to find out if a man is into other men. So Steve mostly just 'happens' to be at the medical examiners during the pickup window for funeral homes to come by.

Also Danny's trans. Just assume he's trans unless stated otherwise, in anything I write. I've decided that's a hill I'm gonna die on.

[dreambatannie]

‘even a worm will turn’

with her eyebrows almost touching and her throat feeling like it is being hugged by a thousand tornadoes, she slams the door at him, leaving him fueled with more anger.

he’ll mark his white board with lines—five by five—and just keep crossing out four lines, he’ll keep track of the times she fights back;

     someone’s daughter is being ungrateful.

someone’s daughter is being ungrateful.

someone’s daughter is being ungrateful.

someone’s daughter is being ungrateful.

ungrateful.

daughter.

     he’s obsessed with his hair, his religion, and the way his ass perfectly fits the throne.

i should obey.

i should obey.

no explanation is needed, just nod your head.

     he showed her what respect looks like, but she knew it was wrapped in dominance.

    when he’s happy, he’s like the butterfly on a dog’s nose. when he’s mad, he’s the dog; and he sees her as a bone—he holds on to her with his teeth, like she’s something he owns. he won’t let go even when he’s calm;

    and when she says she’s bleeding, he’ll play dead. 

    deny, deny, deny.

deny, deny, deny.

she’s serene by nature; and he goes home wearing war on his sleeve—an egotist type of guy. oh, he’s so present, it’s almost pathetic.

she says she’s in a state of inadequacy, but still tries to pour too much in his cup.

she doesn’t know what to tame first—the beast in her or the one who gave her life.

he has a temper that will shift as fast as his tone and a head that’s always heated like boiling water. she doesn’t like hearing him scream, because it has the ability to transport her back to the moments she’s been trying to erase. the water in her eyes will come out faster than the words from her mouth. her tongue will stammer, and she’ll stop trying; she doesn’t possess the gavel. he’s a ticking time bomb, you wouldn’t want to mess with his wires.

he knows a thousand curses that can bruise her self-esteem. he knows how to snatch all of her oxygen without grabbing her by the neck. he knows where to put the knife, and he’ll twist it so deeply, you wouldn’t even see fear in his eyes.

oh, how she wishes he didn’t stop using the belt, because at least she can afford to buy long sleeves and bandages.

a scream, a dumb word, and an innocent girl;

what love isn’t.

what love isn’t.

she doesn’t understand people who are god-fearing, but she knows she’s more afraid of him than any other powerful being.

she’s been devoid of embrace for a very long time; neither he nor his father before him could satisfy her soul with a hug. she says it’s fine, because the child inside her owns a lighter; it’s the closest thing to warmth she’ll ever experience.

she has a casket where she buried all of her suppressed feelings—at a very young age, she dug a hole and hid it in the back of her mind where he wouldn’t find it. and she’s been visiting it to light a candle every time she closes her eyes. she watches it flicker; she won’t blink in her dreams. she clasps her hands and wishes that it would come to life so she’d have reason to survive.

     

a house that should be a home is unfamiliar with the word “safe.” you’ll feel how the roof will shake like it knows her anxiety. her skin is shivering; he’s so conceited. instead of tormenting her, you ought to be pointing out the door to solace.

     you can’t beg for forgiveness like it’s something you invented. it’s not the lyrics to every song you wrote—it’s not a dumb line. in fact, it’s something that you could never write on a piece of paper.

      it’s not something she owes you when all you’ve ever implemented in this four-corner room is rage.  

     you can’t beg for forgiveness; she reserved it for the sobbing child inside her.

      she’ll try to change her eerie forest and make a tiny garden out of it where she could invite gentler people, but she fails and finds herself standing behind the picket fence of the man’s house whenever she sees his reflection in the mirror instead of herself;

     i am just a vessel for all of his trauma, a corpse he failed to bury in his parent’s backyard as a child..

i am beyond repair.

i am beyond repair.

i am beyond repair.

i am beyond repair.

     ..a little cry or scream might help her stop being miserable.

tell her she still looks pretty even if she’s every viscera of him. lie to her face and try to convince her that you don’t see a man.

he swallows his antibiotics just like he swallows his pride—when she walks past him in the living room, he’d prefer to breathe in the dead air than to open his mouth and express empathy.

in this house, to demand is fatuous.

to demand is fatuous.

to demand is fatuous.

     the girl is waiting for someone to look through the curtains and see that she’s been living with a man who opens his dirty mouth when he’s mad like it’s his fist—he heard about the walls around her heart and swung at it with no remorse. this beating organ is a delicate flower, and his words are as vile and sharp as the knives in the kitchen cabinet.

her dream slowly dies every day, and she can’t even blame the killer.

     guess the people didn’t see it coming when you were named after mary’s husband while you’re the complete opposite of upright.

     she watched him sing “happy birthday” and smile at the photos of her blowing out the candles on the day she turned eighteen. maybe you could’ve offered better than a pat on her head and a cake; have you ever thought about that? say it—come on, it’s a two-syllable word, it wouldn’t even cost a penny—

     nevermind, your throat is always soaring from shouting and spitting words that a child shouldn’t be swallowing.

she looks at his face when he’s smiling, she’ll hate every tooth that supports it. she looks at his eyes, she’ll hate every wrinkle that appears. she looks at his hand, she’ll hate the fact that he once held her as a baby.

yet she’ll listen to every yell and rationalize; she’s gotten really good at it.

she’ll roll her eyes at him when he’s not looking, and then she’ll weep before she goes to sleep. it’s the only way she knows to alleviate the pain.

      i shouldn’t be calling you a man; you’ll always have a puerile mind. his ego is fragile and absurd; it’ll clip your wings and disintegrate your flesh. but she could never hate the tree, as much as she hates the leaf—he’s so clever, he managed to make her turn on herself.

      can you see how tight she’s holding this grudge? it’s similar to how she carries his favorite blue guitar when her mother tells her to return it to its fucking case; she’s constantly afraid she’ll damage it—she holds on to it like it’s the money in every food, in every stuff he buys; despite her desire to throw up, she is forced to swallow her pride for the time being. because every piece of wood in this house is his property, and she has no reason to complain. 

“i’m sorry it costs so much.

give me a number.

i’m gonna get older.

i’ll write a check.

and then i’ll never have to

speak to you again.”

it scares her how she’s capable of holding on to resentment for much longer than she had promised.

    a piece of advice, it isn’t always carrying a suitcase or wearing a frown. it isn’t always kissing your forehead and waving goodbye. it isn’t always opening and closing a door. 

     sometimes, it stays and loves the horrors of the house. sometimes, it stays loyal to the wife and sleeps on the same bed. 

    ..she wishes it would leave, though. she wishes one day it would carry a suitcase and wear a frown on its face. she wishes it would tell her how stubborn she is for the last time—if she had a chance, she wouldn’t even hesitate to be the one who waves goodbye. she wishes it would slam the door so hard that even its shadow couldn’t visit the house anymore.

     she’s enraged, all because she’s sharing a name with a man. but that’s all he’ll ever be to her;

     a man she shares a last name with.

    

      you’ve heard about the boogeyman, but have you heard about the father? the one who just wanders off in the back of your mind? the one who plants fears and ineffable agony in your lungs? the one who says they love you but will shrink your brain like you’re just their product?

      it’s wild how they love bedtime stories. but be careful, kids—because it’s not the monster under the bed that’ll haunt you for the rest of your life;

      

     it’s the man who owns the house.

it’s the man who owns the house.

it’s the man who owns the house.

it’s the man who owns the house.

[renee-writer]

Out of Time Chapter Forty-eight

AO3

He looks out the window and sees Claire standing there, her hands over her mouth, her misty eyes on Faith. With a sigh that comes from his soul, he stands and walks over to the door. Heavy hands open it.

“No.” breathed out as her eyes find his, “please no!”

“She saw her parents waiting on her.” Said before it all becomes to much and he collapses against her. Her arms go around him and they weep together.

Jenny comes up, Maggie on her hip. “I wanted to…” She stops dead at the sight of them. With a shudder, she walks over and looks in on the child. There is no doubting the unnatural stillness. “God help us.” She prays.

After a few minutes, he is able to tell them all. “I held her hand until she took her last breath. She wasn’t in pain and wasn’t scared. Her parents were waiting for her.”

Jenny cries silently while holding her own baby close. Claire places her arm about her. She grieves, her heart breaks for the bright and beautiful girl, but what sustains her is a rage. They did this. Frank did! Jamie had determined that she was weakened by the poison he had given her. Whether it was caused by the mist or not, it matters not. For they had killed her as surely as if the poison had. They would pay! Oh they would pay!

“We have to tell Mary and the others.” Jenny says, “It isn’t like they haven’t been through enough.”

“Aye. “ he looks back at the child and sighs again. She will have to be buried too but first things first.

They all enter the makeshift classroom. She looks up and frowns. It was on their faces. “She…?” Jamie nods and she bites her lips and shakes her head. The children, unnaturally atoned to the vibes coming of the adults, all still, reaching for each other’s hands.

“Mama? Uncle Jamie?”

“Guys, I have some bad news. Faith went to heaven.”

Ian Jr shakes his head. “No Uncle Jamie! No! You were supposed to make her well!”

“Ian!” His mam rebuked him. Jamie places his hand on her arm. He shakes his own head.

“I tried. I am sorry, so sorry. Sometimes doctors just can’t fix people. She saw her parents waiting on her. She went in peace.”

Fergus and Willie sits, heads down. Ian Jr runs to his mam and she takes him in her arms. Claire holds Maggie. The little girl calms her some. Mary hadn’t said anything. She stares off into space, her hands on her baby bump.

Suddenly, she screams out, “We have to get out of here! If it was the mist, it could get us all!” The boys jump and Claire moves over to them, sitting down with Maggie in her lap. She draws them over and they bury their heads against her chest.

“Mary, it was the poison. It weakened her, making her susceptible to the infection.” Jamie is calm but firm. The children have been through enough. He understands her fear. He feels it himself, a panic rat trying to get lose. But, things have to be done in order. “We will leave, get back underground, but first we have to see to Faith.”

“Bury her.” Willie confirms.

“Aye. Then we will find a new place.”

“Okay. I’m sorry I am just so scared.”

“We all are. Together, we will get through this.”

She nods and breathes out. “How can I help?”

They wash her body, Claire and Jenny. Jamie is out digging a hole and Mary sees to the children. Jamie decides it is to dangerous for her to be around Faith. They braid her hair back and dress her in her favorite dress. Lacking a casket, she will be buried in a body bag. Inside they place her favorite doll and a few other toys. The children are outfitted with the oxygen masks.

Jamie carries her out, cradled against him. The women and children follow. He lays her in the ground. There has never been a more dystopic scene, he thinks, looking down at the baby laying in the ground, the children in their masks as the mist obscures all. He says the prayers he knows, Claire recites Palms 23. Jenny adds to solemnity by signing a haunting, “Amazing Grace.’ The children lift their voices in ‘Jesus Loves Me’. Jamie fills the grave. Everyone walks back in.

[jax-ln-the-box]

Ghouboys

Ghoul cowboys

Bowcoys

Yeehaw ghouls

Yes? Yes

DO U WANT BAD END CB AU ANGST? NO? TOO FUCKING BAD SUGAR, THATS WHAT UR GETTING. (Love you honeybee)

CW// DEATH. I PUT THAT OLD MAN ("KRAKEN"/SOLUM) AND HIS SON ("FROST"/BW) IN A SITUATION. THE SITUATION IS DEATH. AND GREIVING. And denial. Mostly denial.

Thank oskar for this. It fed my brain worms. This is the EXTREMELY shortened version of events bc me and him spent literally an entire night talking about that shit

"The hell are yall here for-"

"Kraken is dead." He's told flatly by one of the two Rebellions fellow bandits that had found him.

And he laughed.

That high, hyena like cackle that put people on edge no matter their affiliation with the icy mercenary.

"Oh wow," he giggled as he wiped a tear from his eye, "awful joke. AWFUL joke. That old man should know by now that I'm not gonna fall for that shit. I'm not a kid anymore." He laughed with a sigh, standing back up from where he was bent over to finish getting the reward from his last job to the bag on his bulls back.

The looks on the others faces sent a cold zap of fear and panic down from the base of his neck to the tip of his tail.

They weren't laughing.

They looked almost... sad?

Like they were pitying him.

He laughed again. More of a nervous wheeze this time.

"What-" He swallowed thickly, "what happened."

He was met with silence as the two that were sent to gather him looked at eachother.

He could feel his hackles raise.

"The funeral is in three days."

"Take me back home."

The entire ride back he could stop hoping that this was just a real sick joke. That he could see that old fuck and absolutely tear into them for making him worry so much. He was gonna beat the shit outta them when he saw them.

He didn't like this joke.

They got back just in time. It took them all three days just to get back to the outpost that he called home.

Home... The word was heavy in his head and his heart. It burned his tongue like a hot iron and he hadn't even said it outloud.

He remembered the first time he accidentally called the outpost home. Sol- Kraken, he reminded himself, laughed at him so hard they had to lay down on the dirt to catch their breath. He questioned why he didn't just fucking shoot them when he was paid to the first time.

Funny how that worked out. He was paid to kill a bandit leader that killed some important old fart of a guy and now he called that bandit leader his da-

No.

Stop.

When they got back to the outpost everything was so quiet besides the bird song that he could hear a pin drop. It was pretty outside. Not too hot but not too cold as the morning sun peaked over the mountains. It was a perfect day. But everything was so quiet.

Too quiet.

He could practically feel his heart fall out his ass at that. The outpost was ALWAYS loud and bustling. It felt empty. Because it was empty. Everyone was gathered at the center.

The center where the funeral was being held.

The crowd parted pretty easily for him when he walked up. He was well known in the land. He was a fearsome mercenary, loud and angry and energetic and with not a single thought for ENYONES preservation to be seen. And somehow, he was the quiet and calculated bandit leaders right hand man. They were very close. Practically family. Almost like he was their so- no.

They parted so easy for him that it didn't take long for him to see the casket.

He started laughing again as he walked through the crowd. No this isn't right. This joke isn't funny.

This isn't fucking funny.

The ones who didn't know him personally were throwing him sneers of disgust that someone would laugh that loud at a funeral. The ones who did simply lowered their heads.

He reached the casket and laughed louder. "This isn't funny old man. Get up."

The air was getting colder. Cracks of ice forming under his boots.

There was a black sheet covering their head where they lay in the casket. Their hands folded over their chest as if they were just napping.

"I said, this isn't fucking funny. Come on. Get up." He wavered, voice cracking. The air was cold enough that he could see his own breath. But he couldn't see Solums.

"Dad?" He whispered, going to grab their hand to pull at it. It was as cold as him own.

He wailed as he sunk to the floor.

[littlelightfish]

I said I was gonna and I'm DOING IT RRRAH

English is not my first language, sorry for all the typos and all that

Tw: blood, maybe gore?, panick attack?, canontypical violence and all that. Angst <3

(No clue of the word count but this shit long)

---

It had been only a couple hours ago when the monster attacked. He told Four he was going to hunt down a couple of bokoblins that he saw ran away into the forest at the head of the battle. And he went. And he'd killed the monster a few minutes later. The only thing was that... he lost trace of where he was.

Wind was lost. Very lost. In fact, so lost he could be in the right path and have no clue about it. It was absurd how lost he was. Almost comical. If he hadn't been worried sick about where to find the rest of the group of teens he traveled with, he could have laughed about it. He just wished he'd be able to tell this as a joke story later to Hyrule. He'd laugh at him being lost on land again. Or maybe not.

"I hope they're not very worried", he wishpered to no-one but himself. He'd been tracking down the way he thought he came from, but the trees, they all looked the same! He didn't remembered where the sun was before, so he couldn't even use that as a reference. "Oh, I'm so dead..."

He'd been wandering the forest (were forest supposed to be never ending? And what was it with the fog?) for hours now. He was certain it hadn't been minutes because his feet were aching from blisters. He had a potion with him, yes, but he wouldn't use it on something so little. He could, they were well stocked, but he wouldn't. Maybe he'll find some of the heart shaped candy that helped him heal faster scattered on the grass later. They were usually there, for reasons unknown. He sat down and took off his boots when he felt he'd walked enough. A little blood was on his ankles and fingers and he regretted not sewing his socks the night before. At least it didn't hurted as bad as it could... He put them back on, wondering if he should stay or go.

"Maybe if I wait here they'll come, Wolfie must be searching for me like crazy..." he hoped. And he hoped that the others were looking for him too. He didn't wanted to even fathom the posibility that they weren't looking for him. He told Four he'd be right back and his stomach was alredy getting ready for a dinner that he didn't had.

He walked a little longer and suddenly fell to his knees. His feet were aching, but when he turned his face to see, he didn't actually had any feet. That explained why he couldn't walk, at least. He looked, exhausted, in front of him. There was a strange scene going on, but he got closer and looked over the shoulder of his grandma. There, in a casket, was nothing. Aryll cried as Grannie did too. And he tried to comfort them both, but he couldn't touch them. He frowned, he really did, and then he saw, in the distance, the silhouette of his friends. They were walking further from there, so he hurried up to their side. But he couldn't run. He couldn't move.

"Wait for me! Hey! Guys!", he screamed as his bleeding stumps had to force themselves to walk. He was now crawling as he cried. It hurted. It hurted badly. "Guys! Please! Wait for me!", he pleaded, his voice so imposibly small that he didn't wondered why they continued walking. And what was worse was that they were so close. They were just out of reach. If he was a bit, just a tiny bit, faster, he could surely catch up. He could hear their voices.

"What happened to him?", a voice he knew asked.

"Well, he left", another replied.

"No wonder. He wasn't even one of us anyways, was he?"

"Was he?", the question was repeated by many. He couldn't even begint to try and guess how many were saying it.

"Guys! I'm behind you! Please! Look at me! I'm here!", he pleaded again, crying from the pain that now was in his hands too, as he was using them to drag himself on the floor. It was a nice floor, all the hard things were kicked away by the feet that marched in front of him. But he wanted those feet to be at his side, walking alongside with him. "Guys!" Who were this people? He hadn't seen his faces. He couldn't look up, his eyes so insanely tired. Barely could keep them open. In fact, his hands were getting heavier. He soon won't be able to move if he keeps like this. "Guys! I'm here...!" A gasp for air, he suddenly feel so tired. How could he even keep up with them? They were so... so big... So big their steps were way too long for his mutilated self to be able to keep up. He ragged his hands off trying to keep on, and he was crawling how he best could. He didn't have hands. He was trying so hard, but they didn't look back. They weren't looking for him. But... but he needed them! He needed them to look for him! To look at him! "Please! Please, I can't!"

"He can't", suddenly, everything went white and he gasped for air.

His hands and feet hurted like crazy, that was the first thing he registered. He took deep breaths trying to process he was awake, and he wasn't before, and before was a nightmare, and now was probably not. The second thing he noticed was that he wasn't alone. There was a face in front of him. A pair of blue eyes were looking. At him. And he gasped for air, still feeling his hands and feet being crushed with needles. His heart was in his ears. He was dreaming? Who was this guy? Oh, he was talking. He tried his best to hear, but he was too tired. And he was tired of being tired, but could do nothing about it, so he cried. He was so afraid. So tired. So lonely.

He clutched his hands on his clothing to make sure he was real, and he felt real enough. He was real. He had to be. And he was there. Was he? Something came out of his mouth, but he doesn't know what. He didn't quite registered what was going on, and he drifted off soon enough, but he did noticed he wasn't alone anymore.

---

Wind was missing. That was the second thing they noticed when the battle calmed down. The first one? Four was unconcious. An electric arrow combined with a blow to the head got him barely standing by the end of the battle, and as soon as they were safe, he'd fallen face first to the ground to everyone's alarm. And there was when they realized that it wasn't everyone's, they were missing Wind.

It wasn't a big fight, and there wasn't many enemies, Four was just really unlucky this time. Wild had dodged and left him exposed without realizing about it. No big injuries, some of them didn't even had a cut on their tunics.

"Where did Wind go?", Twilight asked when they were acomodaron Four to awake him and give him some potion.

They looked around in surprise, now noticing the obvious absence of their youngest. Most of them had the feeling something was missing, now it made sense.

"Did anyone saw him during battle?", Warriors asked, suddenly very alarmed, a million thoughts on his head, none of them good.

"He was alongside Four the last time...", Sky answered, nervous fingers on his blade.

"I'm going to look for him-" Twilight started, being cut off abruptly by Wild before anyone could volunteer to go with him.

"No. Not in this woods. I don't like this, this isn't normal forest, is it, Legend?"

"The Lost Woods are not those, if that's what you're asking... And why ask me? This isn't my Hyrule. Is nobody's so far."

"You're the one with the most experience"

"Eh, fair enough."

"This isn't time for this, we have to look after Wind. If he's out there, anywhere, and this happens to be the Lost Woods, he's in great danger right now", the serious voice of Time spoke.

They all fell silent and a small growl was heard from where Four was laying. Some turned to him, and Hyrule sighed.

"He has a concussion, but he'll live", he sais and Twilight looked over his shoulder to the forest, Wars too.

"I'm too worried", he wishpered, walking closer to Wars. They walked a bit far from the other so they could talk to each other at a low volume.

"I am too. How dangerous can this place be? Wind could be hurt."

"We have to go look for him. Not my first time looking for kids in a dangerous forest."

"That was... oddly specific, I'll ask later, should we go now?"

"I think so"

"I don't. Even as I'm worried, we can't let them behind. Let's wait until Four can at least walk, yes?"

"I thought you were with me!"

"I am, I also want to find Wind, and if this forest is dangerous, him being lost in it just makes it more dangerous. He's not a kid, he's got a sword and he knows how to use it.", Wars patted Twilight's shoulder. "He won't die. He's a hero, like us. But we might end up lost and dying from starvation if we go to get lost right now."

"Why are you so- Actually, nevermind, makes sense"

"Thought so."

Four didn't wake up as soon as they'd liked. And when he did, he was a mess. He was very stressed, and his eyes wanted to explode, and his head too, and his mouth tasted horrible, and everything was making him miserable. So he cried, and he cried lots. Legend asked them to give the guy some space, and they did, not with lots of enthusiasm, but the veteran could possibly handle the situation better than them.

Fortunately, he did. Four's headache was still omnipresent behind his exploding eyeballs, but he was more grounded, and felt ways better after a potion, his second one after the hit.

"Hey, Four? You with me?", Legend asked after some time, gently, worried, as he rubbed his thumb on his friend's hand.

"I thinks so?", he answered softly, his head throbbing with every noise.

"Do you think you can be carried right now as you are feeling?", Four looked ar him, trying to get some more information than that to decide his answer, "Wind is missing, we have to-"

"Wind? He... he told me something, I think", he wishpered confusedly. Legend was now the one looking for more information. The others got a bit closer when Legend made a hand gesture to them. "Yes he... Um... ough... Immathrowup-"

He did, in fact, throw up. At least not on himself, but almost on Legend. Sky offered a tissue to clean his face and Hyrule gave him a bottle of water to clean his mouth. He was feeling like shit, very miserable, but at least cared for.

Time was doing a well show off of self control as he wasn't shaking the smithy trying to get him to remember. Bur he was so close to loosing it that Twilight, when he noticed, decided to chat with him a bit, at least to plan their search.

It had only been an hour since the battle ended when they were all ready to leave, and Four on Time's back, since Sky's sword and Wolfie were buissy searching at the moment.

It was a long walk. A really long one. Wind's track was long, and following it, they could make up a bit of what happened. At first he was running from or after some monsters, he'd killed him quite later on, and then the wandering began. Four went then on Warrior's back. Sky had to sheathe his sword because his arm got tired. Wolfie's nose was tired, he was starting to loose his scent because of it. Four passed to Wild's back, in wich he fell asleep. Four was passed from hand to hand and hours later, Wolfie, who was visibly exhausted, let a howl and started suddenly sprinting.

After him, Wars was the first to follow, and running on the trees, they saw him.

A small, very small, figure. Light blue tunic, orange pants. Yellow hair as yellow as yellow could be.

Resting with his back against a tree was Wind. But something wasn't quite right. Wolfie transformed as Wars rushed to the side of the kid and the others started to pick up.

"Wind? Buddy?", he tried, gentle hand on his shoulder.

There were big tears falling down from his eyes, half open, but way too asleep at the same time. He didn't looked hurted, just tired. And he worried. He was mumbling something in his sleep. What was it? It sounded like pleas. He wondered what kind of dream was the boy having.

"Wind? Hey, wake up bud, come on...", he didn't dared to shake him with force, but he got him by the shoulders and, as his head lolled down, he tapped his cheek firmly but carefully. "Open tour eyes... But awake, wake up, come on..."

And suddenly, he did. He gasped, his eyes big. He was suddenly terrified, waking up from who knows what dreams. Panicking, the kid was panicking. The others noticed too and exchanged worried looks as Wind gasped for air and looked everywhere without actually seeing anything. With a Look, Warriors told them to stay away for a bit.

"Wind. Link. Link, hey, listen to me. Hey. Link. Listen, hello. Hello, I'm here. Do you see me? Link.", he spoke softly, trying to ground him, as he rubbed his hands and looked at his big dark eyes. He'd never seen the little one this afraid. He hates to admit it, but he's never looked so much like a kid before. So terrified. So fearful.

Suddenly, some recognition in those eyes. He hugged him close, hold him firmly in his arms and spoke to him softly.

"Hey", as Wind started to cry louder, something about the way he did told him the main emotion changed. "HEY! It'll be all right bud, I'm right here", Wind continued ugly crying as he holded on for dear life to him. He was way too out of it, poor kid. "I got you... I got you..." he wishpered as he held him tight and he listened to the little one try to say something and fail multiple times. He looked at the other guys, who were awkwardly and worriedly standing at a distance, and asked them to come closer.

"Please... I'm here...look at me..." he managed to hear the little teen saying and something about it stabbed him right trough his chest. He wasn't going to be the one asking Wind about his dream later. Soon enough, everyone was gathered around the youngest, some were patting his back, some others talking softly, hoping he could hear them. It seemed to help calm the boy down. After a few minutes of intense emotions, Wind was visibly falling asleep again, his body exhausted.

I’m not doing whumptober this year (to my great sorrow) but here’s a peace offering😌

[the-firebird69]

This looks like a kit on a G6 four-door. There's a company online saleen and they're saying that this is a Carly Bay and I don't think so. It might be a kit car design and they have a prototyper too but if you think the panels off and then hold on and we are off all the quarter panels. Remove the doors and with the rear quarter when you take it out and take off the quarter window and you have a new quarter panel.

Zues Hera

He doesn't know how they're joined at that point if you look real close you can see a line on the G6 it matches on what it's supposed to be a saline one and that's what they did cuz he's talking about it and they're not making the kit they just put it out there and people are going to beat the living s*** out of these idiots. They're the ones who think they have the embeds and think they control the mega computers and they're carrying on and on and the Mac proper want them to and they know that they activate the computers and so forth okay so a lot of them know they missed and Trump had a huge fleet and he built it because of Dave and his computer and because of the embeds and the sun says and daughter he activated it and that's where the don't know what happened we think that they're under control whatever the computers doing and these guys are hopeless people and don't know it and yeah they got taken over a lot

Thor Freya

Now I understand something I did that actually the computers they turn on the big ones the big ones still use like a hard section hard connection and they're not running outside of their mega shielding and they won't hear anything from it and he says it's not true you know probably had four or five on the outside of it I'm starting to see what you're saying this is terrible was thinking of the positive side and he's being The devil's advocate based on what these guys know about it and what they do will the bill are saying it too you're way off you're so far off you stink and then they hurt you and you're as well a huge ball goes out if it'll be a huge s*** to take me out of here 45,000 miles long and they shot their pants. But for real that makes a lot of sense and you can't have the embeds there instead of winter I'm wondering something for the embeds supposed to do

Joel Watts

Probably has a few sets and they do different things and you ran the one that activates it and now he's not going to tell you but okay but really he's not going to stuff it ran up your ass there's so many places you can put it we need to talk to him

Preston

We're going to tell you this is a dumb show this is terrible what the hell are you supposed to do here we can't do anything oh yeah that would be something to be doing and the max I didn't figure out something what's the status on Saturn do we know if these people are entombed he says he's betting those people missing. The other casket was probably not sitting on the floor mom's sister and suddenly we're getting a little bit upset if you were f****** God damn stupid God damn annoying and very wrong you're going to be very dead

Bill

We can't figure stuff out what the f*** what the f*** are you saying are the entombed or not is somebody tracking it or not that's how easy you're sitting on the goddamn house and you don't know if they're there Jesus Christ just dumb people

Well he says that and it's true and we don't know if they're there

Trump

This is funny where the hell are they we should we have to check good

Sarah

I don't want you to hear that thing Jesus Christ they're near the advantage than any engineers they're right on JC and Mary Don't complaining like madness for years and we can't figure it out yes just throw them in a fire

Mac daddy

Have to go to action this is so damn bad

Justin

That's cuz you're going out to eat around or the day after tomorrow but really this sucks does anybody get this but he says is yeah I've got a cover and that blows those guys do too I should have brick

Michael tew

Olympus

[ao3feed-brucewayne]

Glass Casket (a study in fractal cosmology)

read it on AO3 at https://ift.tt/UhNGbL9 by Sentient_Stove There wasn’t any sign of rot either, and with how damp the sewers and Gotham in general was, that was a feat within itself, unless they were placed here recently. He was going to have to report this- unknown bodies not in graveyards had to be reported and for good reason considering the amount of health hazards this kind of thing provided, but Damian also sort of didn’t want to disturb the eerie scene, or break the tranquility of the resting body. The teenager inside the coffin’s face grimaced. Their brow furrowed, closed eyelids fluttering like they were trying to open them and their chest moved, clearly alive, clearly breathing, oh god there was a human not dead in a fucking coffin. Damian yelped and went to grab the glass. Or: Damian finds a dead guy in the sewers and does the normal thing in this kind of situation. Which is bring them home and make them everyone else's problem too. Words: 3263, Chapters: 1/4, Language: English Fandoms: Danny Phantom, Batman - All Media Types Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Categories: Gen, M/M Characters: Danny Fenton, Damian Wayne, Cujo (Danny Phantom), Jazz Fenton, Vlad Masters, Dick Grayson, Bruce Wayne, Sam Manson, Tucker Foley, Jason Todd Relationships: Danny Fenton/Damian Wayne, Dick Grayson & Damian Wayne, Danny Fenton & Jazz Fenton, Danny Fenton & Vlad Masters, Cujo (Danny Phantom) & Damian Wayne, Clockwork & Danny Fenton Additional Tags: Whump, Buried Alive, Ghost King Danny Fenton, Protective Damian Wayne, Jack and Maddie Fenton's C- Parenting, they try, Court of Owls, This is just a regular tuesday for Danny, Canon Related, Eldritch Danny Fenton, Best Boy Cujo, Hurt/Comfort, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, mentions of vivisection, Jack and Maddie Fenton Know Danny Fenton is Danny Phantom, Protective Jazz Fenton, Other Additional Tags to Be Added read it on AO3 at https://ift.tt/UhNGbL9