#and to not disrespect anyone resting in the cemeteries

[ssshh-im-a-secret]

Oh the things I do for my friends.

I'm home for winter break from college, and my friend requested that I go to two specific roads about an hour away from where I live because she thought they were funny.

Not only did I do that, I went into a cemetery to get her pictures of me in the cemetery, and outside another cemetery.

My friends and I have issues. I risked getting cursed for her, no wonder people think we're gay.

#hilarious #funny #lol #relatable #college #the things I do for my friends #college friends #we're all insane herd #it's a thing I would've done on my own though #so it's fine #it was kinda out of the way though #i was very careful #to not get cursed #and to not disrespect anyone resting in the cemeteries #my mom however #she might've gotten cursed #because she stepped on a few graves and touched some of the offerings #I nearly faceplanted trying to avoid stepping on anyone's grave #why am i like this

[myhauntedsalem]

A gravedigger/ groundskeeper shares his stories and experiences on the job

Sometimes spooky crap happens that you just cant explain. A man walked up to us as we were throwing the canvas over the dirt trailer and commented on how beautiful of a resting place it was. We assumed he was a part of the family that was currently holding visitation and told him we were sorry for his loss and agreed that it was a beautiful spot. Later on, when the crew walked through the funeral home to get to the lounge for lunch, we all saw the picture they had set out for the guy that had died. It was the same man that had just came to the burial site a few hours before. He didnt have a twin, and no one else in the family looked that much like him. That kind of crap stays with you. Chills you to the bone.

Sometimes spooky crap happens that you just cant explain. A man walked up to us as we were throwing the canvas over the dirt trailer and commented on how beautiful of a resting place it was. We assumed he was a part of the family that was currently holding visitation and told him we were sorry for his loss and agreed that it was a beautiful spot. Later on, when the crew walked through the funeral home to get to the lounge for lunch, we all saw the picture they had set out for the guy that had died. It was the same man that had just came to the burial site a few hours before. He didnt have a twin, and no one else in the family looked that much like him. That kind of crap stays with you. Chills you to the bone.

The only other time this happened to me. I was cleaning off some headstones and cleaning up the grounds when a little girl caught my eye. She was playfully wandering around and looked happy. But I didnt see any adults around so I figured she had wandered outside from the funeral home. I took my gloves off because I was about to go on break, and figured I would ask where her parents were on my way to the building. I turned around and set the gloves down. When I turned back around, she was gone. A few weeks later, I helped set a picture plaque onto a headstone, and it was 100% the same little girl I had seen. Again, another thing I can never explain.

If a grave is sloping down a hillside or sinking too much, we get permission to move them to more level and stable ground. This particular grave was one of the first that had been in the cemetery, and the dates read april 1871-august 1877. Back then they buried their dead in pine/wood boxes. We had to move this grave as it was in a bad flooding spot on the grounds and just kept sinking further down every year. When we got to the coffin. The top had caved in and you could see the remains of the little boy curled up into a ball. That gave me chills like nothing else. We figure they unintentionally buried him alive, and when he woke, didnt know what to do, and eventually just curled up in a ball and died. You could see his little skeletal hands wrapped around his knees. I’ll never forget that. Turns out this guy was pissed that he was left out of the will, and came to the cemetery to show his disrespect to his grandmothers grave. I dont care what that person did to you. If you try to kick anyones headstone over, im kicking you in the nuts and calling the cops.

Unfortunately, this happens more than you would think. We started the morning mowing the grounds. I went to mow the far end of the grounds first, but stopped when I noticed a person laying at the edge of the woods. Upon closer inspection, it was clear that the person had committed suicide (gunshot to the head) they did find a suicide note, but we never learned why he did it there. I assume he lost a loved one and just wanted out of the pain. Or maybe wanted to make sure he was found by someone other than family. Makes you sad, man.

Good ol’ Don. He’s a nice guy. He brings the crew lunch some sundays.

Because every sunday, he and his wife would go out to lunch after church. He is there every Sunday to read to her from the Bible and put fresh flowers down. He’s a sweet old man and has been coming there every Sunday for as long as I’ve worked there. he tells us stories about their life together and gives that sad, longing kind of smile when he’s done. True love man. You cant deny that good ol’ Don was truly in love with Mrs Margie.

This one freaked EVERYONE out. A teen who had been killed in a car accident (19 I believe) was being lowered into the grave when we all heard a thumping noise coming from inside the casket. You could of heard a pin drop it got quiet so fast. Of course the director Re-opens the casket. Turns out the family buried him in the jacket he was wearing in the accident (dont ask why, i dont know) and the thumping was a ringtone he had set for an alarm that day. They had been looking for his phone, and somehow the battery had lasted the whole damn time, but the phone was on silent. That is, until his scheduled alarm went off. The mother almost passed out, because she thought her son had come back to life or something. It was really heartbreaking to witness.

Not sure if its teens being stupid or if people actually perform rituals to try to bring people back or are doing some other crazy crap, but we clear off at least one grave a month.

So, again, on the other side of the cemetery is where most of the early graves are. And it floods a lot over there. Another grave started sinking and sloping to one side of the hill. Same case with this woman. We hoist the wood box up and the lid slides off the top. And to our horror, there are claw marks. And I mean tons of them, on the inside of the lid of the coffin. This poor lady was unintentionally buried alive around 1900, had obviously woken up buried alive, and tried like hell to get out, but she didnt. Another one I’ll never forget.

#gravediggers #haunted locations #haunted cemeteries #paranormal #ghost and hauntings #ghost and spirits #ghosts #spirits #haunted salem #myhauntedsalem

[sweetlittlevampire]

Today is All-Saints Day in my homecountry, which means that today and tomorrow, tombs are being blessed in Catholic tradition. I am not Catholic, but it's always been a family tradition to attend the blessings, no matter one's own religious beliefs, and it's like that for the majority of the country.

Our family tomb lies on one of the oldest and biggest cemeteries of the capital, and...it will be crowded. Like, really full. So will be public transportation gowing up there, and just the idea of sitting on a bus like a piece of fish in a jam-packed tuna can, in Covid times, is giving me anxiety like nothing else.

I also know that they will ask me all kinds of questions I don't wanna answer, because all they do is gossip, even in front of a tombstone. When they hear that I still haven't managed to find a job...it will be fingerpointing and blame for the rest of the day.

Needless to say, I really don't wanna go.

But if I don't...my uncle passed in February. It's kind of expected of me to show up. I would go - on the weekend, when less people are around and I can pay my respects in peace, and I'd invite anyone to come who would want to - but I already know that all they are going to say that they were right about me being a disrespectful, stone-cold bitch.

(The context here being that I was a day late for my grandmother's funeral because I happened to be abroad and had no way of getting home in time, and no one in the family was ready to pick me up.)

Who knows? Maybe they're right. I just want this week to be over. I need tine to breathe.

#Sweet is rambling #death mention #family

[motownfiction]

no ghost in the graveyard

Colleen O’Connor has a thing about cemeteries. On every road trip, she makes her whole family – all six children – visit at least one. This summer, on a road trip to visit some semi-distant relatives in Rochester, New York, she makes them stop at a cemetery to see Susan B. Anthony.

Will, who is sixteen now, has had just about enough.

“Mom, no!” he shouts from the backseat.

“What’s the matter?” Colleen asks. “I didn’t think you hated the cemetery that much.”

“I hate them,” Molly, who’s ten, says. “You don’t even let us play ‘There’s no ghost in the graveyard.’”

“Because it’s disrespectful. Will, honey, what’s the matter with you?”

“I don’t want to see Susan B. Anthony’s grave like this!” he says. “Bad enough I have to be away from Lucy for five days … now I’m gonna go see Susan B. Anthony’s grave without her, too? She’s gonna kill me!”

“If she does, then you’ll get to meet Susan B. Anthony,” Sarah, recent high school graduate, snarks.

“Shut up, Sarah,” Will says. “You didn’t even have to go on this trip.”

“And pay for my own food? For almost an entire week? I’ll pass, man.”

In spite of Will’s protests, they end up at the cemetery to see Susan B. Anthony. Will is resolved not to get anywhere near the headstone – not without Lucy. Molly grabs Claire and Sophie and tries to force them into playing there’s no ghost in the graveyard. Will and Sarah hang behind, staying as far away from the rest of the O’Connors as possible.

They walk in lockstep. Will keeps his eyes on the dirt beneath him, trying not to think about everything there. He takes a beat before asking Sarah the first thing that comes to mind.

“You think anyone’s ever died here?”

Sarah snorts.

“It’s a fucking cemetery, man,” she says. “We’re the weird ones for being alive.”

“No, that’s not what I mean. I mean … do you think anybody ever dropped dead during a burial? Like they couldn’t take it and died of a broken heart or something.”

Sarah shakes her head.

“Broken heart, no,” she says. “Heat exhaustion, sure.”

Will nods, but he’s not really sure why. He’s just thinking about Lucy. Before he got in the car for this stupid trip, he kissed her on her porch and told her he wished she could go with him. If only she knew how much he meant it now. If only he knew how much he’d mean it then. He thinks about the night before they left … how pretty Lucy looked, lit up by the moon coming in through the blinds. They weren’t listening to “There’s a Moon out Tonight,” but with how beautiful she was, they should have been.

The next few words fly out of Will’s mouth a little too quickly.

“Sarah?”

“What now?”

“You know I … I had sex with Lucy last month.”

Sarah inhales like she just bashed her knee against that stupid too-big coffee table Mom and Dad just installed in the living room. Will knows that exact sound because they’ve all made it at least five times apiece.

“Hmm,” she says. “First time?”

“Yeah.”

“You OK?”

Will nods.

“OK,” Sarah says. “Is she?”

“Yeah,” Will says. “We’re … I dunno, I guess we really are OK.”

Sarah nods. She looks like she’s far away … like maybe she’s about to become the next ghost in the graveyard.

“I’m sorry,” Will says. “I didn’t mean … I just felt like I needed to tell somebody who wasn’t Sam or Daniel. You were the only other person who made sense.”

“It’s OK,” Sarah says, and Will thinks he mostly believes her. “Just don’t die. Or get her pregnant. But mostly don’t die.”

“OK,” Will says. “But if I die, I’ll make sure it happens in a cemetery. That way, you won’t have to waste any time in burying me.”

“I think it’s cute you think I wouldn’t throw you right in the furnace.”

“Yeah.”

They walk in silence a little while longer. Thank goodness.

#drabble #writeblr #ch: will o'connor #ch: sarah o'connor #year: 1983 #heretofore unpublished #been sitting a long time

[spookydrreid]

City Walk

Pairing: MGG x fem!Reader

Summary: buying a house in the town of Salem, Massachusetts requires walks with the man of your dreams.

Content warnings: food mentions, talks of witchcraft& the Salem witch trials, coffee mentions, buying a house (?). [let me know if I missed anything]

Word Count: 1.2k

a/n: any negative messages will be immediately blocked.

…

Buying a house is terrifying. Buying a house with the love of your life is even more terrifying. Strictly for the fact that it was a huge step in a relationship. However, as we set the last piece of silverware in the drawer, I’d never felt more content with my life.

For Matthew, this was house number three. For me, this was house number one. Our house. When we talked about moving in, I had mentioned that I wanted to live in a place with seasons. While winter isn’t my favorite thing ever, fall was something I loved. Sweaters, pumpkins and colourful leaves galore. It made me happy, and all Matthew wanted was to see me happy.

“Perfect. This place absolutely perfect,” I mutter as I bumped the drawer closed with my hip.

He laughs and kisses my cheek, “it’s because you decorated it.”

I turn in his arms, nuzzling into his chest and wrapping my arms around his waist. He smells like cinnamon, old books and home. “No. It’s because it is ours. Because we get to live here together.” I pick my head up and smile at the man of my dreams.

“Would you like to go explore the town we live in?” He asks as he kisses my forehead. I nod and squeeze him, something I do when I feel overwhelmed with love. It’s the feelings of loving him so much I was to kill him? But not literally.

…

Fall in Massachusetts was something everyone in their lives needed to see. Though, most travel to New Hampshire. Massachusetts had its own beauty that begged to be seen, appreciated. Salem had history that thrived in the fall months, mixed with pretty fall leaves, made for a great day.

We started with coffee, going to one of the local coffee shops in town center. It was cute, a quaint little shop that was filled with locals looking for an afternoon pick me up. The gray clouds slowly being swallowed by the sun.

I help my hot coffee in one hand, Matthews in the other as we left. He had yet to be stopped by anyone and I found it a little strange. But it was midweek and school was in session. I wasn’t going to question it, nor was I going to jinx it. It was rare we got an outing where it was simply me and him.

I looped my arm with his as we walked, my head resting on his shoulder as we took a side road, the wind starting pick up slightly. October in Salem was a busy month, more so on the weekends, but it didn’t stop people from skipping work and school to visit.

“This is one of the old cemeteries,” Matthew says when we pass the iron gates. The stones are old and weathered. A chill runs down my spine as we pass, it’s almost as if I can feel the sadness that lurks.

Salem, Massachusetts was home to the Salem Witch Trials. You know, where two little girls accused people of being witches and then got their friends involved. And also how everyone just believed them because they had money? Yeah, that. And while the story is incredibly true, and incredibly sad, the little town loves the history. Not in a weird way. Just in a ‘this happened here and we wont let it happen again’ way. It was one of the many reasons that I wanted to live here.

“This is the memorial. The name of all those killed are etched into the stone seats. There is one for each person.” He says as we walk closer. And he’s right. Each stone seat has the persons name, how they died, and their death date. Flowers are laid at each stone from guests, some leaving prayers and notes for the dead.

I scrunch my nose, “it’s sad. All because two girls ate some bad bread.” It makes him laugh but he quickly covers it with a cough. He never wants to be disrespectful, that’s not in his character, but I joke when I’m uncomfortable and he knows that.

He pulls me towards the house that sits on the land. It’s small, he has to duck so he doesn’t hit his head. There are, realistically, two rooms besides the kitchen and sitting area. I think about the house we just moved in to. You could fit three of this size home into ours. I’m grateful.

“These beds don’t look all that comfortable,” I whisper to him.

He smiles just a little, “we have definitely made improvements in the mattress game over the past 300 or so years.”

…

We paid our respects to those who were killed wrongly before deciding to do a little shopping. Salem capitalized on what happened there. And I loved it. Respectfully of course. The shops were named after witches, or the earth.

“This one!” I point to a little crystal store, taking his hand and pulling him in with me. It was empty but I felt at home there. The crystals shined in the lights that shown on them. “Look how pretty this one is!” I held up a quartz in the shape of a cat.

He took it from me, examining it closely “very beautiful. But not as beautiful as you.” I feel my face heat up at that. He loved to compliment me, let me know every day how much he loved me and how much he appreciated me. No man ever made me feel like he did. He loved me and he made it known.

“Ever the gentleman,” I purr at him. I decide to buy it, finding it would look beautiful in the house.

…

We ate lunch at this small restaurant. The food absolutely delicious. And then we decided it was time for a walk. We lived by the river, something he wanted more than anything. I couldn’t lie, seeing the sun set over the river was something I’d never get used too.

He held my hand, his warming my cold fingers from the autumn air. The beautiful red and orange sky reflecting from the water and on to his face. It’s beautiful. He is beautiful.

“Thank you,” I mutter, breaking the silence.

I fell his eyes on me and my suspicions are confirmed when I look up, “for what, bunny?”

“Loving me. Being you. Giving me this opportunity.” It isn’t lost on me that this opportunity is only because my lover is rich. One that most wont be able to have.

He kisses the back of my hand, “of course. I wouldn’t want to do this with anyone else but my bunny”

I smile at my little nickname and look out onto the lake, the wind nipping at my skin. The lake is full of color from the setting sun and the beautiful leaves that have fallen. I felt like I belonged here. But if I’m being honest, so long as he is with me, I would feel like I belonged anywhere.

...

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[almostnugget]

Here Lies...

Reggie x Ghost!Reader

It’s on an off day that you find Reggie on the beach, quieter—more mournful—than you’ve ever seen him. You propose an unusual solution.

Warnings: vague mentions and talk of death/dying, angst, talk about inadequate parents, etc. also the word ‘hell’ is written Once? (twice now ig)

A/N: y’all seemed into this idea so im Delivering. had the idea awhile ago when i read a few fics about reggie dying first and now I’ve actually...dOne something with it. so here! hope you enjoy!

Reggie was acting strange. You aren’t sure when you noticed, how you noticed, but he was. There was a certain quietness to him, something like that wasn't normal. You wanted to think nothing of it, but when you found the others in the studio without him, you couldn't help but wonder.

Alex and Luke seemed hesitant to tell you where he'd gone, as if they knew what you had already suspected and didn't want to tell you. Alex caved—despite Luke's protests.

It feels weird to be back at the beach, your hands laying stagnant at your side as you spot the familiar figure sitting in the sand.

Your better judgement tells you to leave. You never bothered to involve yourself like this before, there's no reason to do it now. Yet, you still walk over and settle down in the sand beside him.

Neither of you talk. You don’t know what to say if you wanted to, instead just absentmindedly pulling at the strings of your jeans and trying not to nervously bite at your nails.

You’re still looking out at the ocean, listening to the dull chatter of passersby and the crashing waves, when Reggie finally speaks.

"Did they tell you I died first?"

Your breath almost catches in your throat. Instead, you don’t reply, only sending him a quick glance. Nothing could quite articulate what went through your mind when he said that. It never quite occurred to you that one of the boys had to go first, and it never occurred to you that it would've been Reggie.

"In the ambulance," he continues, fiddling with his own hands. It's a nervous habit of his that you’ve noticed before, but only rarely seen. "I can still remember it." He lets out a shaky breath and you fight the urge to frown. "All of it."

When he doesn't speak again, you both fall back into silence. You’ve never been good at this. Comforting people isn't your forte, you can hardly comfort yourself. Hell, maybe Reggie doesn't even want that. He wanted to be alone, probably, and you forced your way here.

Your words fall out before you can stop them.

"I don't," you breathe, still looking out at the ocean as your eyes trail over the horizon. "I remember everything that led up to it. But I don’t actually remember how it...felt.” You instinctively wince as you remember the cold water against your skin, but you press on. “I remember some of the dark room, but then...I was just back on the beach.”

Reggie watches you and the way you continue to tug at the frayed strings of your jeans. You both fall into silence again. It's like neither of you really knows what to say, what you want to say, what you need to say.

You’re not sure when you speak up again, how long after, but you do. “Have...have you seen it? Your grave?" You ask tentatively, looking over at the ghost beside you. Reggie's looking forward when he shakes his head. You nod a little, biting your tongue before letting out a sigh. "I've seen mine."

That catches his attention as he looks over, his thoughtful expression switching to one of concern. "Y-you have?" You nod again. He stammers a little before blowing out a heavy sigh.

You push herself to your feet, Reggie watching as you does so. "Come on," you say finally, holding a hand out. Reggie's gaze flickers from you to you outstretched hand and there's a moment before he takes it, allowing you to pull him to his feet.

When you get to the cemetery, it's fortunately pretty empty. Reggie looks around apprehensively, but he still follows you as you walks. It's clear you’ve been here more than once.

Your pace slows, the pair of you coming to a stop in front of a grave at the end of a long row. The tombstone isn't particularly ornate, but it isn't overwhelmingly plain either.

"Tada," you say mirthlessly, removing your hands from your jacket pockets to gesture toward the rock. You go to move, before stopping. "Think it's disrespectful to step on your own grave?"

Reggie lets out a weak laugh that makes you feel marginally better about the entire ordeal. You smile sorrowfully before kneeling down in front of your own tombstone, ignoring the faint chill that runs down your spine when you do.

He notices that there isn't much on the stone to begin with as you trail your hand over the etchings: Y/N L/N. It's painfully simple, even more so by the muddied years below your name, worn at with time.

"That's all?" Reggie asks, a certain degree of hesitance to his voice. "No...quote?" You smile a little as you glance up at him.

"No quote," you confirm. "I was a foster kid, Reg. Not much to say when you get bounced around a lot." Your hand trails over your last name. "This is all I've got from my parents."

He swallows thickly, unsure what to say now. It feels like he has to apologize somehow. But you lean away from your tombstone and push yourself to stand, the ghost of a smile on your face.

"Don't feel bad, I've had a while to get used to it," you assure, shrugging a little. Reggie doesn't reply, but you can tell he's desperately trying to think of something to say. "Reg, it's okay," you repeat, stepping closer and setting your hands on his arms. Your hands eventually fall and you look out at the rest of the cemetery. "Do...do you wanna see yours?"

Reggie's eyes widen a little. "I-It's here?"

You nod, moving to stand beside him. You point out a grave several rows away, but he can see it—feel it—even from here. "I saw it the last time I was here," you admit, frowning a little. "Small world, huh?"

"Yeah," he says lowly. There's apprehension before he starts moving towards it, but he does nonetheless. You follow him. You try to create distance now and then, but he looks back at you every time you do like he doesn't want to be alone, so you stop.

When the two of you get to his grave, you almost wince as Reggie stares upon his very own tombstone. You can't remember dying, but you can remember seeing your grave. You imagine it feels similar.

Reggie kneels down in front of the tombstone, eyes carefully reading the engravings; Reginald Peters, 1978 - 1995, Loving Son. The grass is a little overgrown at the bottom, but it's all still legible.

He lets out a shaky breath, you carefully watching him in case this turns out to be a bad idea. Neither of you speak for what feels like a long while, but Reggie doesn't seem eager to leave, so you hope it's okay.

Biting your tongue, you look around before settling on an idea. "I'll be right back," you state, causing Reggie to look away from his tombstone. He can't even argue as you start to walk away, he can only watch with a frown. He wanted to be alone before, before all of this, but not now.

Fortunately, you do come back like you promised. Your hands are behind your back as Reggie glances up. You fidget uncomfortably before bending down and setting some flowers in front of the stone.

“It looked empty," you admit softly, shrugging a little when Reggie looks away from the flowers and back at you.

A faint smile tugs at his lips. "Where'd you get those?"

"There's a stall, nearby. I might've...stolen them," you confess, wrinkling your nose as Reggie lets out a laugh. Of course you did. The gesture won't be forgotten though. "Are you...okay?"

He looks back at the grave, wondering that himself. However, there's something cathartic about seeing his grave like this. It finalizes everything, sure, but it puts things in perspective.

Reggie stands up, you worriedly watching him. He doesn't speak, only moving back toward a nearby bench and taking a seat. You tentatively follow, settling beside him, your back pressed against the opposite arm as you cross your legs.

“Reggie?" You call softly. He doesn't think he's ever heard anyone say his name that softly. He looks over, taking in the expression on your face and the way your brows furrow. "I...I can leave you alone?"

Instead, he shakes his head. You frown a little, letting your hands fall into your lap as you continue to watch him and the way he looks out at the rest of the cemetery.

Reggie lets out a shaky breath. "It's okay," he finally says, you sitting up. He fights himself on his next words, but they come out regardless. "Good to know my parents cared enough to...you know," he gestures weakly to the tombstone.

"Oh, Reggie," you sigh, scooting closer until your knees brush against him. He looks over. "Just because your parents fought doesn't mean they didn't love you."

“Felt like it sometimes," he admits softly, you frowning further.

“I'm sorry you felt like that," you settle on, but it's clear you’re not done. "But them fighting? It's not your fault." He doesn't know how you know what to say next, but you do. "Dying wasn't either." He looks momentarily surprised, wondering how you could've possibly guessed. You shrug, as if continuing to read his mind. "It wasn't hard to guess."

"Yeah, Luke and Alex said that too," he responds with a sigh, shoulders falling as he lets his hand rest against the arm of the bench.

“I don't say this often, and I won't, but they're right." He looks back at you, noticing the serious look on your face. Neither of you are hardly ever serious, at least not like this. "It's really not your fault, any of it." There's a pause, neither one saying anything before you begin to smile. "I've got an idea," you say excitedly, hitting Reggie in the leg before getting to your feet.

"Wait, what are you doing?" Reggie asks quickly, furrowing his brows.

“I think you deserve a eulogy," you admit, with a deep breath.

Reggie's confusion furthers. "But...it's not my funeral?"

You let out a light laugh, stepping back towards his spot on the bench as he cranes his neck to look up at you. "But you are a ghost,” you whisper, leaning in close.

"Oh."

You step back and straighten up. "So! You'll be getting a eulogy by yours truly! This is a once-in-an-afterlifetime opportunity, so prepare yourself!"

Reggie can't help but smile now as he sits up, almost on the edge of his seat now. "I'm ready!"

“If this gives you an ego? I will be taking it all back," you warn him, but his smile doesn't falter. He only nods, bouncing his legs a little in excitement. You sigh, shaking your hands loose and clearing your throat. "Reginald Peters, better known as Reggie, was...an incredible person. He was, apparently, a loving son, but he was more than that."

You’re too busy trying to choose the proper words to even notice the way Reggie's face seems to soften as you speak.

"Reggie was talented. He could shred on the bass—"

"—and the banjo!"

You chuckle softly. "And the banjo. His country songs were pretty good too." Reggie watches the way you tug at your sleeves, a soft smile on his face. "More than that, he— he was one of the nicest and funniest people I've ever met. Anyone was lucky to meet him, but they were even luckier to have him in their life."

You carefully avoid his gaze, as if finding your own words too much, but Reggie can only continue to watch you with a fond expression that you don’t even notice.

"But, none of that really matters because Reginald Sinclair isn't someone you can ever forget. His memory and his soul will forever live on. ...Not just because he's currently a ghost in a band in LA or anything like that."

You both laugh a little as you finish, stepping back up to settle beside him on the bench. Your eyes cast back out toward the cemetery as you do, carefully missing the gaze Reggie fits you with.

"That would've been better if I actually wrote something, but—" you start, wrinkling your nose as you already begin to recall everything you said a moment ago.

"Thanks," Reggie cuts you off. When you look at him, you meet his eyes this time and you both seem to go quiet. You hadn't meant to sit so close, but now you can feel his breath on your face as your breath hitches.

"Yeah, well..." you trail off, voice barely above a whisper. Biting your tongue, you get to your feet before anything can happen—not that it would, of course. "So, do you wanna head back or...?"

"Wait! What about you?" He asks, shooting to his feet. Your brows furrow.

"What about me?"

“Your eulogy," he supplies and you’re quick to realize he's prepared to give you one. The thought alone makes your face heat up. Reggie saying nice things about you? You’re not sure you could handle it.

You shake your head. "No, no, we don't have to do any of that," you insist with a forced chuckle, ducking your head to walk past him.

He's quick to rush after you. "C'mon—"

"We can do it another time," you settle, nearing the exit of the cemetery. Your words slow Reggie in his tracks.

"Right, next time," he mutters, prompting you to turn back. He suddenly looks crestfallen and you waste no time in pressing toward him.

“Yeah, like we can come back?"

"Yeah..." Reggie trails off, your eyes falling to watch as he plays with his hands like he does when he's nervous.

“Reggie?"

He squeezes his eyes shut, letting out a sigh. "The guys and I— We have to cross over," he admits slowly, eyes carefully watching the ghost in front of him.

Your face seems to fall. "Oh."

The dots in your head seem to connect. No wonder he’d been feeling so particularly...low today, of all days. He hasn’t the time for much else.

"We don't want to!" Reggie says quickly, not wanting you to get any kind of wrong idea. "We really don't want to, but—"

“Caleb's stamp, right?" You ask, quirking a brow. "Wasn't just a stamp, was it?" Reggie frowns, shaking his head. "Yeah, I figured as much." You almost want to roll your eyes as you pivot on your heels to begin walking again.

“It's either that or join his house band for eternity or stop existing, so!" He adds on, hurrying after you. His shoulders fall. "Not like we can cross over."

“Why not?" You question after what feels like a long moment of silence. Reggie watches you and the way you choose to keep your eyes ahead instead of sparing him a glance.

"We might have to play at the Orpheum."

“Of course," you almost scoff, and it nearly makes Reggie wince. He assumes you’re mad at him or something akin to that, but you suddenly stop. "We'll figure something out," you then say, crossing your arms over chest and actually turning to look at him now.

“Are ghosts even allowed in the Orpheum?"

“Doesn't matter, you guys are gonna perform there one way or another. Better than not existing at all, right?" It's like that was supposed to be a joke as you force a smile, but it doesn't quite reach your eyes. You then bump your shoulder against his in an attempt to dissipate the tension you inadvertently created.

You didn't mean to be upset, to make Reggie feel like you were mad at him, instead of for him—maybe for yourself too, as selfish as that sounds. But you can't ignore the tightness in you chest either when you think of losing someone you never even had. All you can do is push it down.

It's with that fading tightness that you start walking again, Reggie lingering back. He didn't want this to happen, any of it. He meant what he had said, they really didn't want to cross over. As you glance back, he knows it to be even more true.

You usher him to follow, your expression subtly softening, and it's with a deep breath that he follows after you.

#julie and the phantoms #reggie #reggie jatp #jatp reggie #reggie x reader #jatp reggie x reader #reggie jatp x reader #jatp x reader #julie and the phantoms x reader #jatp imagine #reggie peters #reggie peters x reader

[four-rabbit]

My best friend died in the 90′

Ok, so, this is part of an ghost AU that I have and probably will be talking about in the future, where Virgil is a ghost and them and Remus are best friends, (this is not the main plot but anyway, like I said, I'll talk about it in later)

However, while this doesn't happen, please have this oneshot about Remus and Virgil meeting each other

Summary: Remus never had any friends, but that changed when he decided to go to the cemetery in the middle of the night, just to meet Virgil, a kid that besides being just as weird as Remus, happens to be dead.

(For a little bit of context: in this fanfic Remus comes from a family where eveyone can speak to ghosts, on his mom side, at least, but unlike Roman, Remus was never able to talk to a ghost before meeting Virgil)

Characters: Remus Sanders, Virgil sanders, mentions to Roman Sanders

Warnings: swearing (specifically a kid swearing), discussions of death, mentions of a fight and bullying.

Obs: in this au Virgil uses exclusively they/them pronouns and Remus uses he/it. This is not a genderbend version of Remus.

I've always been the weird child so it seemed appropriate that my first friend had been dead for more than a decade.

It's a funny story: I had gotten to another fight, I even lost a tooth that day and probably would have lost two if I hadn't run away the moment the fucking coward that called himself a bully invited his friends for help. I may be fast but I can only bite so many people at once.

I didn't want to go home because Roman would be worried and my parents would be angry, which was the usual, but getting bullied was also the usual, didn't mean that I couldn't get tired of it, that's why I decided to go to the cemetery I mean, why not? 

I knew I was far from my house because it took me less than ten minutes to reach it. My parents moved to as far as possible from there the moment Roman was born, the guy can't stand even getting closer to it, which I founded stupid at the time. I would give anything to have the stupid paranormal sensitivity that he was so afraid of instead of being the disappointment of the family.

Turns out he was right for being afraid. 

After a quick look I confirmed that there was no other living soul at the cemetery besides me, so I smiled and sat on the closest gravestone. Mom always said that we should respect the dead and their resting place or else they would teach us a lesson or whatever but I was fine with that because I had decided a long ago that If a ghost showed themself to me it would be the coolest freaking thing ever. I kicked the gravestone weakly, as if knocking on a door. That thought made me giggle as I imagined a ghost appearing in pajamas, angry at me for disturbing them that late at night. I kicked again, this time a little harder. 

"Stop that" someone mumbled besides me. I immediately got to my feet, thinking that the gravedigger had seen me but fortunately I didn't see an angry adult, but a kid. They were using a black hoodie and had equally dark hair falling on their face. They were pale as a dead body, fat and tall, basically the opposite of me, an unhealthily skinny latino little shit. I snorted.

"What are you gonna do about it?" I kicked the gravestone once more. They seemed startled, backing up a little. 

"You- you can see me?"

"Why wouldn't- OH MY GOD YOU'RE A GHOST?!" I screamed not even caring if someone could hear me. Virgil cared. 

"Sshh! I-" they seemed disconcerted but gave up with a sigh "Yes, I'm" 

"Oh! Holy shit! Is that your gravestone?! Is that why you appeared when I kicked it?!" I jumped in excitement, getting close to them to take a closer look at my most recent discovery. 

"No, I just don't think you should kick it. It's disrespectful" 

"Yeah, whatever! Oh my god I can't believe I'm seeing a ghost! Suck it, mom, I knew I could do it too!" I exclaimed to nothing in particular as if she could hear me. "What's your name?"

"No- look, I'm sorry, I didn't think you could see me, I just- I should go" they said in the classic "I want to get rid of you" that everyone used after talking to me for more than five minutes. I started to get desperate, this was my first time seeing a ghost, I wouldn't let them leave that easily.

"No, don't go! I promise that I'm cool! Sorry for kicking your friend's gravestone, I don't know, please stay!" I begged and I guess my irresistible cuteness touched their heart because they turned to look at me again.

"He's not my friend," Virgil explained. "Just an old ghost that doesn't like to be bothered." they looked down shyly and I thought that was cute. "My name is Virgil. What's yours?" 

"My name-" I always hated to tell people my deadname, I just didn't know why at the time "You can call me the Duke because my name is shit I really hate it y'know, it really sucks ass" They probably raised an eyebrow, it was hard to tell with all that hair failing on their face, but didn't say anything besides:

"Why not the duchess?"

"Because I don't want to" replied, crossing my arms as if challenging them to disagree. Virgil looked me up and down, processing my appearance. I was using dirty green legs, a black dress that my mom insisted that I wore for school and an old all star. Their eyes stopped at my face, with my bloody nose and the missing tooth. "What happened to your face?"

"Oh yeah I got into a fight! But it's cool, I'm not afraid of those assholes" now they seemed worried.

"Why did you get into a fight?"

"Just the usual, he stole my lunch, pushed me out of my bike, called me some bad words and I bit him. Y'know everyone thinks blood is so gross but I kinda like the taste." I looked at them, trying to see their reactions. I couldn't see their eyes but I'm sure they widened as Virgil got closer, saying in the same worried tone that Roman used:

"You should be careful! Have you told your parents?! Do you have any friends to walk with you? Or you could tell a teacher! No, forget it, teachers never help, at least not when I was alive. Is there anyone you can trust to protect you?"

"Wow, chill, I can take care of myself"

"I'm serious, Duke!" I rolled my eyes. I hated when people treated me as some fragile girl that couldn't take care of herself. Turned out I just hated that people treated me like a girl. 

"Why do you care? I just met you" 

"Because-" Virgil changed their mind mid phrase. Can't blame them, I wouldn't share my backstory and the reason I died that easily either if I was a ghost. "You seem nice, I don't want you to get hurt" I don't think anyone had ever called me nice by that time. Weird, gross, disturbing, problem child, ungracious I had always heard, but nice was new, even Roman just called me "cool" or "brave" at best. So, of course, I got defensive. 

"Hm. Want me to tell you what he, Peter by the way, is the name of the asshole, yeah, he's a big asshole, what Peter and his friends called me?!" Again, Virgil barely reacted to my swearing and I was starting to get frustrated, it was always an easy way to get some fun reactions, especially from adults.

"Not really…" as they would learn in the years that followed, that kind of phrase rarely stopped me from speaking. 

"He called me a bitch! That's when I bit him, actually, he was like, listen here you little bitch and he pointed his finger at my face and I bit it and I almost ripped it off I swear!" I looked at them, waiting for their reaction, already imagining what it would be. I was young but I had lived enough to mainly aim for negative responses just because they were better than no response at all. Virgil stayed in silence for longer than I wanted which was like the most boring response. 

"How old are you, Duke?"

"I'm going to be nine in three months! How old are you?"

"I died when I was ten." 

"Cool! I was never friends with an older kid!" I was never friends with anyone besides Roman, but anyway. "I mean, you're my friend, right?" They didn't answer immediately, but then Virgil opened a smile and probably decided they were going to protect that little chaotic gremlin.

"Yeah, I guess I’m.”

#ghost au #Dukexiety #remus sanders #virgil sanders #cw swearing #tw death mention #tw bullying mention #rabbit writes

[shedobewritingalittle]

Mama

Pairing: Frankie “Catfish” Morales x Reader

Summary: Frankie and reader visit her mother’s grave.

Word Count: 2k

Rating: T?

Warnings: Talks of a dead mother, angst, guilt

A/N: Look, it’s my mom’s birthday today so I needed to just get my feelings out. This isn’t meant with any disrespect. My mom is dead and I am missing her more than ever during this time. Life sucks and sometimes all you can do is write a shitty fic to get your feeling out. Okay thank you. 

Once upon a time, you were told that this day would get easier. You were told that with time, it wouldn't hurt as much.

How is it possible that it just seems to get worse and worse every year? The ache in your chest just builds up, almost to the point where you feel like your ribs are going to cave in on themselves, feeling like your lungs are going to collapse. Every year, the same thing happens. The day draws closer and closer, creeping up on you in such a way that it always takes you by surprise.

Part of you always feels guilty for never remembering. You should remember, your sister does. Your father, even though he's moved on and someone else is living with him now, remembers. You're sure that even your little brother remember so why can't you? Why is it impossible for you to remember her birthday? Maybe it's because you're so wrapped up in preparations for Christmas when December hits that it just managed to slip away from you. Maybe it's because she had forgot your birthday once when you were ten years old and now you're subconsciously trying to get back at her. No matter how hard you try to remember, it always slips away from you.

When you realize that her birthday is coming up, you just feel so guilty. Guilty for living without her. Guilty for being able to do things without her. Guilty for not remembering. Frankie, bless his heart, has tried to tell you that you should feel guilty because she wouldn't want that. His mom is still alive and well, so he doesn't get it. But you can't exactly tell him that, so you just smile and nod.

Frankie has tried to ask you about her, always saying something about how talking about it will make it easier for you-but you can't. You have never been able to talk about her without getting choked up, emotion wrapping around your throat like a noose. The tears in your eyes always sting and if you do manage to get words out, they crack and break. Even today, even though you want to talk about how much you loved her and how much she mattered to you-the words won't come out. They refuse to leave your mouth.

This year, Frankie asked if you wanted to visit her. You lived hundreds and hundreds of miles away from her, from your family. He asked you that every year since you guys have gotten together and usually, you tell him that you're okay. But this year is different because of that little girl of yours. You know that your daughter should know about her grandmother, no matter how hard it is for you. So when Frankie asked this year if you wanted to go visit, you forced yourself to nod. Part of you hoped that the distance between you and your mother's resting place had let you heal, but you knew it hadn't. If anything, you felt like the pain had only intensified with every passing mile.

Your family had been ecstatic to hear that you, Frankie, and your newborn daughter were coming to visit. You were sure that they were pulling out all the stops for your little family because you hardly visited. You wished you could view this as visiting your family, but it was impossible. The whole trip was tainted-no. Not tainted. Tainted made it seem like you were angry at your mother. You weren't angry at her for being gone because how could you be? It wasn't her fault-it wasn't anyone's fault really. If anything, you were angry at yourself for acting like this. Acting like a child who isn't getting what they want.

"Turn here." You announce softly to Frankie, pointing out the small side road that seemingly disappears into a field. Your husband nods, smooth asphalt turning into rough gravel, rocks hitting the undercarriage of the car. This road had always been this shitty, more dirt and rocks than it was a physical road. You've never taken Frankie to the cemetery no matter how many times you've brought him to visit your family, no matter how many times he tells you that's it's completely fine if you do want to visit.

Every time you visit your mom, that numbness creeps up into you, increasing as you get closer and closer. Not even the sweet little noises your daughter is making can pull you out of it. Visiting the cemetery makes it real, makes it so that you can't pretend that she isn't gone. Your turn your head away and look out the window as Frankie pulls into the cemetery, your forehead leaning against the cool glass. His hand moves to rest on your thigh, his thumb rubbing circles into your denim covered leg, trying to remind you that he's right here.

The cemetery wasn't the best in the world, wasn't even the best your town had to offer, but it was where many generations of your family was buried. Hell, it was even a few miles from the tiny little house your mother had grew up in. You directed Frankie where to go, your husband driving slow on the dirt roads. Just the like the road that brought you here, the pathways in the cemetery are in desperate need of repair. The graves aren't in better shape. There's an entire part of the cemetery-the old cemetery, your nana always calls it-where the graves are crumbling.   No grass grows in that area-not that it really grows anywhere else. The grass is more brown that it is green, full of burrs. To put it bluntly, the cemetery is ugly and you hate that this is your mother's final resting place. She deserves more, deserves way better than this, but this is where your family was buried so this is where she was.

Resting in your lap was her favorite drink, her favorite candy bar, and some plastic fake flowers that didn't look so cheap. You used to try to do this three times a year-Mother's Day, Dia de los Muertos, and her birthday. Visiting had once made you feel better because it felt like you were keeping her memory alive, but now? You felt like you were going to be sick, felt like you couldn't breathe. Oh God, get yourself together.

"Park right here." You force out, Frankie doing as you ask. As soon as the car stops, you jump out of the car before you either had a panic attack or puked. The air chills you to the bone as you take in a shaky breath, your eyes landing on the area where her grave was as you attempted to calm yourself down. Frankie gives you a minute before shutting the car off and climbing out himself. He immediately works on getting your baby girl out of her car seat as you get the things from the front seat, hands shaking.

You could never, ever, forget where your mother was buried. Frankie follows you quietly as you carefully weave around graves, dry and dead grass crunching under your shoes as you try your best not to step on anybody. Your family has always been awfully superstitious and you really do not want to make this trip any worse. Your daughter is babbling away, the sound much too sweet for where the three of you were.

"That's my great-nana and that's my great-tata. Right here, that's my grandfather and that's..."Your words trail off as you reach your mother's plot, your body going rigid. And just like that, it's real again. You read and reread the name on the headstone, like you need to make sure that's really her. Like it is every time, that's really your mother in the ground, forever entombed under layers and layers of dirt.

You shut your eyes for a moment, not wanting to completely lose it in front of Frankie. You force yourself to regain your composure, something you have watching your older sister and your nana do multiple times at your mother's grave. After exhaling through your noise, you open your eyes and kneel down beside her grave. On one corner of the bronze headstone, you place her drink, her snack going in the other. You carefully add the flowers to others in the little hole in front of the headstone, your hand moving to brush dirt off the Virgin of Guadalupe that's engraved on the headstone. How many times have you done this? How many times have you made sure everything was perfect for her? How many times have you felt guilty for not doing more? For not staying longer? For not visiting more?

When everything was to your liking (or at least as good as it was going to get), you stood up and turning your attention to your husband and daughter. Frankie gives you a small smile, bouncing the bundled baby in his arms. They looked out of place here. They were everything good in your life and here, in this cemetery, they just didn't belong. And it's like that, barbed wire is wrapping itself around your throat and your eyes sting.

You want to cry. You want to cry about how you still needed your mother. Want to cry about how she never got to see her children marry, never got to meet any of her grandchildren. You want to cry about the fact that you were still a child yourself when she left. You want to cry about how you were forced to grow up when she got sick. You want to cry about how you never got to be a regular teenager because you were going through so much. You want to cry about how she should've seen you graduate from high school, from college. Want to cry about how you know damn well that your mother would've spoiled your baby and your nieces and nephews. You want to cry about how no matter how much you try to describe your mother to your daughter and Frankie, it still won't be as vivid as the memories you have of her. You want to cry about how the memories you do have of your mother are getting fuzzy and it seems harder and harder to remember her voice, her mannerisms, her.

You're forgetting your mother, you realize, you're forgetting her.

You don't even realize that you are crying until Frankie pulls you into his chest with his free arm. Your body is shaking, loud and ugly cries coming from deep inside of you. He's rubbing your back, trying to soothe you. Frankie pressed his lips against your forehead as your tears stain his shirt. He isn't used to seeing you like this, not this emotional.

"Hey-hey it's okay. Let it out, sweetheart. Let it out." Frankie doesn't know that his words take you back to her wake. Dozens and dozens of people told you that as you'd cry with every new face and every new condolence. Frankie's words just made you cry harder as you held onto him tightly. When was this supposed to get easier? When were you supposed to be able to talk about your mother without breaking down like this? She passed when you were a teen and it seems like you lived an entire life since then, but the pain is still fresh.

You just continue to cry in your husband's arms on this bone-chilling December day, surrounded by your dead relatives, letting it out just like he wanted you to. You let out years and years of missed memories, of moments where she should have been there, moments that you wished you could share with her.

On your way back from the cemetery, you play her favorite music. The numbness starts to fade  away like it always does and it helps that Frankie is holding your hand. For the first time in a long time, you start telling Frankie and your daughter about your mother. Words are pouring out of your mouth, tears occasionally rolling down your cheeks. You fill the car with her music and her stories, wanting to tell them everything just in case you forget. Frankie keeps the car steady as he drives, his hand still in yours as he listens and listens.

#frankie ‘catfish’ morales #frankie morales x reader #catfish morales x reader #triple frontier #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal

[we-are-only-halfway-home93]

Come and Lay the Roses 28- Stars Are the Only Thing We Share- [Ivar x OC]

Summary: The mourning of Sigurd

Characters: Ivar x OC, Bjorn x Torvi, Ubbe x Margethe, Hvitserk x Thora, Sigurd x OC, Ragnar, Lagertha

Warning: Arranged marriage, violence, sex, torture, language, mentions of rape/sexual assault

Word Count: 2244

Ch. 27

“Do not stand at my grave and weep. I am not there. I do not sleep.”

~Mary Elizabeth Frye

Ivar stood with his head bowed under the shower spray. He had his hands pressed to the wall letting the water run down his back and over his face in hot streams as steam rose around him, fogging the glass doors.

As he raised his head to let the water roll down his chest, he heard the glass door slide open. Cold, feminine hands slid down his back from the tops of his shoulders down around his waist. Aaline locked her hand around her wrist and pressed her breasts against Ivar’s back. He shuddered at the difference in temperature.

She scratched her nails gently across his abdomen, kissed the space between his shoulder blades, and settled her hands on his hips. She gently began to knead the muscles of his hips, circling her knuckles into the tight skin. He sighed and brought a hand down to wrap around her wrist. She stopped and tilted her head, settling her chin between his shoulders.

“How are you?” She asked. Ivar sighed and dropped her wrist, turning the water off. He stepped out of the shower, his wife close behind him. He handed her a towel before wrapping one around his waist. She called his name when he left the bathroom and he stopped and turned.

She was staring at him like he was a wounded animal, ready to attack at the smallest hint of a threat. “What?” He said. His voice was even and calm, betraying none of the mixed emotions stuck in his chest.

“I asked how you were. You didn’t answer me.” She crossed her arms over her chest and leaned against the entryway to the bathroom. He sighed again and pulled open his dresser drawer, rummaging around for his socks.

“Ivar…” he cut her off.

“What would you like me to say, Aaline?”

She pushed off the frame and stepped towards him. “It’s your brother’s funeral today. Nothing you say is wrong.” Ivar snorted and continued rifling through his drawer.

“He was a brother I didn’t like.”

“You don’t like any of your brothers.”

“True but him I liked the least.”

“You can not like someone and still love them.”

Ivar stopped and stood up straight, facing his wife. “Min elskling, Sigurd held no love for me in his heart. He tormented me at every opportunity or did you forget your first family dinner?” Aaline looked down at the mention of that night.

He wasn’t wrong. She never cared for Sigurd either but she felt terribly for Sibylle. Twenty-five is much too young to be a widow. She wouldn’t mourn Sigurd herself but she mourned for Sibylle who lost her husband, and Ragnar who lost a son, the second child he would bury. She mourned for Björn, Ubbe, and Hvitserk who all lost a brother. She mourned for her husband.

He broke her out of her reverie. “He would not miss me if the tables were turned.” He turned back to his dresser. “I will not miss him.”

Aaline watched him pull his clothes out of the dresser and begin to dress. They hadn’t been married long but she was beginning to be able to tell when he was lying.

.

Aaline could count on one hand the number of times she’d been to a funeral. She was young when her mother died but she still remembered the somber faces that stood around the hole in the ground. She remembered holding her father’s hand, his fingers lose against her own smaller ones that clutched tightly, trying to understand.

She understood now.

She stood beside Ivar in the finely groomed grass, the ground hard beneath her heels, preventing her from sinking. She stood almost as tall as her husband.

Ivar clutched her hand tightly in his own, whether consciously or not, she didn’t know. She didn’t mind. She kept her hand tight in his own, never letting go. She had settled her other hand in the crook of his elbow, he body pressed close. Whether he admitted it or not, Ivar needed her today.

She glanced around as the preacher droned on about life and love and celebrating the life Sigurd had while mourning the one he would miss. Ragnar stood behind Sibylle, his hands resting on her shoulders.

Before they’d left for the cemetery, Margrethe had kindly slipped Sibylle a Valium. She had been inconsolable before they left. She refused to get out of bed and she couldn’t stop crying. Aaline had been ready to leave without her when Margrethe stepped forward and slipped Sibylle a small blue pill that she then had her chase with water. Within minutes Sibylle was more pliable and they were able to get her dressed.

Ragnar stood behind her, silent support for their insurmountable loss. Lager that stood next to Ragnar, offering her support to him. This was the second child he had to bury and she recalled all too familiar feelings from Gyda’s death. It never got easier.

Aaline and Ivar stood to the side and behind Ragnar with the rest of the brothers. Aaline met Torvi’s eyes and they shared a sad smile. She and Torvi shared similar feelings today. Either one held any love for Sigurd but Sibylle was their friend and it was hard watching her mourn her husband. They were young and seeing Sibylle like this reminded Aaline that it could’ve easily been any one of the brothers in that car.

She tightened her hold on Ivar and he squeezed her hand.

She let her eyes trail over the cemetery, stopping when she saw a tall man several feet away standing beneath an oak tree. He had his hands in his pockets and he was watching the proceedings. He was alone.

Aaline squeezed Ivar’s hand and tilted her head up, nudging his shoulder with her chin. He looked down at her and she darted her eyes over to where the man stood. Ivar followed her gaze and his eyes narrowed. He tilted his head back.

“I see him,” Björn whispered. Ivar didn’t take his eyes off the man but brought his head back down to Aaline.

“Who is that?” Aaline whispered. Ivar straightened his shoulders and they heard Björn whispering to Ragnar. Ivar cleared his throat.

“That’s Ecbert.” He said. The preacher finished his speech and they began to mill around. Torvi and Thora each took one of Sibylle’s arms and began helping her down the slope. Margrethe followed at a slower pace. Ubbe and Hvitserk stood huddled together, their eyes locked on Ragnar as he ambled over to Ecbert. Lagertha and Björn stood together silently watching Ragnar grow smaller.

Ivar turned to his wife and brought his hands up to her face. “He’s a brave man, attending the funeral alone.” He stroked his thumbs over her cheekbones.

She grabbed his wrists. “Ivar,” he cut her off, pressing his lips to hers. The kiss was hard, all of his emotions filtering into her. Everything he kept bottled up inside. She opened her mouth and let him in, his tongue battling hers for dominance. Before she even had the chance to moan, he pulled back and dropped a kiss to her forehead.

“You look so beautiful, elskede.” He trailed his hands down her arms and locked their fingers together.

.

As Ragnar got closer, Ecbert finally spoke. “It was a lovely service.”

Ragnar offered a rueful smile and nodded. “Thank you.” He stopped just beside Ragnar and they observed the scene.

Lagertha and Björn stood together watching the two men speak. Hvitserk and Ubbe stood together, watching their wives disappear down the slope and Ragnar speak with Ecbert.

Aaline and Ivar were saying goodbye, his son kissing his wife quickly and with passion on the lips before releasing her. He heard Ecbert sigh and braced himself.

“I’d like to negotiate the release of Aelle.” Ragnar laughed with little humor and continued to watch his family. Ecbert waited patiently until Ragnar spoke.

“What release of Aelle?”

“Please, Ragnar, we both know you’re not stupid. Aelle, king of the Northumbria chapter of our organization. His son is too young to take over and I fear a coup should Aethelwulf take over too soon. The people aren’t ready for him to take over.”

Ragnar took a deep breath, his eyes scanning the emptying cemetery. “I know of which Aelle you’re speaking of. There is only one. I will not be releasing him.”

“Ragnar, we both know what Aelle did was unacceptable. He will be punished accordingly but let me punish him.”

“Do you think so little of me?”

Ecbert opened his mouth to speak but no words came out. His heart began to pound and he felt sweat settle on his upper lip. He stiffened his shoulders, trying to mask his discomfort.

“You would disrespect me so much as to take away my retribution?”

“Ragnar…”

“Aelle will die. He will die tonight for the crime of killing my son. There is nothing you or anyone else can do to stop it.” He began to walk away when Ecbert spoke again.

“One son dead does not an empire end. You have four other, strong, sons who can carry on your legacy. Ragnar,” Ecbert moved to stand beside him. “Let this be the end of war. Bury it with your son.”

Ragnar turned his head to look at Ecbert, his eyes were icy and cold. “Have you ever lost a child?” Ecbert didn’t answer and Ragnar nodded. “I have lost two. One child does not weigh more than another. I will not disrespect my son’s memory by having mercy on his murderer.”

Ragnar turned away and began to walk back towards his family. Ecbert’s voice froze him in his tracks. “It would be tragic, no? Should something happen to another son?” Ragnar’s eyes trailed over his sons as they stood scattered across the slope of the cemetery. Aaline stood with Ivar, their hands clasped together and whispering close.

“Or even a daughter?” Ragnar’s eyes flashed over to Aaline, her forehead pressed to Ivar’s chin, his arms wrapped around her as they slowly swayed. He looked over his shoulder at Ecbert.

“You would be wise to watch your words. Someone may think you’re making a threat.” He tossed a tight smile back at Ecbert before turning away. “Have a good day, Ecbert.”

.

Aaline stared down at her husband, his eyes half lidded and unfocused. His hands held her hips, his fingers flexing against the bony ridge as she circled her hips. He moaned and arched his neck, rocking his hips up into her.

She moaned, her walls fluttering around him and he did it again, stroking her inside. She dropped her head down, her fingers curling against his chest leaving half-moon marks in his skin.

Ivar snarled and sat up, wrapping a hand around the back of her neck. She wrapped her arms around his shoulders, scratching down his back, drawing blood. Ivar surged his hips up, his pelvic bone bumping deliciously against her clit. She cried out, arching her neck except his hand kept her in place. She rolled her hips forward looking for more friction.

Ivar growled and pushed her to lie flat on her back. Aaline moaned and stretched her arms over her head, gripping the edge of the mattress for support. Ivar stroked his hand down her front, palming a breast before settling his hand between her legs, circling his thumb around her clit. She moaned and closed her eyes.

“No.” Ivar fell over her, caging her in. She snapped her eyes open and met his, this pupils blown wide with lust. “Look at me.” He growled.

His hips slammed down into hers, setting a punishing rhythm. She tightened her grip on the mattress, pulling the sheet away in her fingers. Ivar brought his hand up from between them, her whine getting lost in the sound of his cock sliding inside her pussy.

He wrapped his fingers around her throat, cutting off her gasp of surprise. He groaned at the sudden heat that drenched him. He sped up, his hips slamming against hers, the bed frame squealing beneath them.

Aaline brought her hands to his face, bringing him up to her. She pressed her forehead to his, her body shuddering at the shock of pleasure coursing through her. He opened his eyes and kissed her, his tongue sinking deep. She groaned and slid her hand through his hair, tightening her fingers at his nape.

When he pulled back, they kept eye contact. He felt her pussy flutter around him and knew she was close. He buried his face in her neck and bit down on the muscle connecting her neck and shoulder. Aaline shuddered and came around his cock.

Ivar groaned and, a few thrusts later, followed her over the edge. He kept himself buried in her neck and between her thighs, catching his breath. Aaline stroked her hands through his hair and across his back, reveling in the skin contact.

“Ivar.” He lifted his head and looked down at her. There were tears in her eyes. He adjusted his elbows on either side of her face and stroked his thumbs across her cheeks. He waited.

“Don’t ever leave me.” She whispered. He searched her face, finding no fear and no sadness. Only tenderness. He nodded once and brought his lips down to hers, melting against her.

@dreamlesswonder @youbloodymadgenius @inforapound @bcarolinablr @funmadnessandbadassvikings @jay-bel @feyrearcheron44 @londongal2810 @khiraeth @didiintheblog @jeremyrennerfanxxxx123 @xbellaxcarolinax @shannygoatgruff @kingniazx @revolution-starter 

#ivar x oc #ivar the boneless #ivar lothbrok #Bjorn Ironside #bjorn x torvi #Ubbe Lothbrok #ubbe x margrethe #Hvitserk #hvitserk lothbrok #hvitserk x thora #sigurd snake in the eye #sigurd lothbrok #sigurd x oc #Ragnar Lothbrok #lagertha #vikings #arranged marriage #modern au #mafia au #Crime #come and lay the roses

[klivebang]

Prompt List

All prompts are optional, they’re just here to help generate ideas for anyone who’s stuck! Feel free to take them in any direction you please.

Full Prompts

Klaus and Five used to date years ago and run into each other at their hometown bar. They’re like “damn, you look better than ever, are you single? Let’s make out.”

Five thought he was straight until he flirted with Klaus at a party, and now he can’t get Klaus out of his head and is on a mission to find him even though he doesn’t know Klaus’s name.

Klaus’s old dealer is moving to be with his boyfriend, so he hooks him up with Five and Five refuses to sell to him because Klaus cut in front of Five in line one time YEARS ago and he’s not even sure that it was him. This is ridiculous.

Klaus and Five meet in a cemetery and Klaus is playing a song really loudly from your car and it’s so disrespectful so Five tells him as much and Klaus says, “it was their favourite song” and now Five feels like an ass.

Klaus is an insomniac who calls Ben at 3am except he misdials on his landline and tells Five all about his nightmare before letting him talk and now he’s mortified but Five doesn’t hang up.

Klaus has been hearing voices in the shadows, at night, around corners. He knows they’re not real, but their words are. He’s losing himself but Five is there to support him.

Klaus is a small independent artist/photographer/graphic designer/producer/etc. One day they get an email from someone saying that they manage a celebrity (Five) and that Five would like to work with Klaus (and it's legitimate.)

Klaus and Five, burning the food because they were distracted by each other.

Five was a ruthless agent, not afraid to get their hands dirty. But after an injury the agency set him up to become a mentor for the next generation of spies and he somehow feels more like a glorified babysitter trying to train Klaus.

Klaus is a park ranger who tells all the visitors to the state park that the forest is definitely not haunted, despite the battle that took place there hundreds of years ago. Five is the ghost that Klaus has fallen in love with.

Klaus and Five are in a heated argument and nobody knows why. They’re fighting over who loves the other more.

Klaus has a cat café and Five never really talks to anyone when he’s there and it seems almost rude, but the cats all seem to love him.

Everyone is going as a couple to the Valentine’s Day Party and it would look stupid if Klaus and Five went alone, right? Maybe they can just go together.

Soulmate au but we’re totally in denial despite it being obvious to everyone else around us.

Klaus is a tattoo artist and Five is his grumpy client coming for his first tattoo - or vice versa?

Reginald and Grace don’t know they’re dating and Klaus and Five can’t afford to be caught - unfortunately they’re bad at hiding.

One of them begging the other not to leave them alone. Klaus and Five both have abandonment issues and a fear of being by themselves.

Enemies with benefits - they might not be on the same side, but Klaus and Five can’t keep their hands off each other. Is there a possibility for love?

Ritual sex. That is all.

During their wedding, Klaus is so excited to marry Five, that the person who marries them barely has time to finish the sentence ‘’You may now kiss the --’’ before Klaus leaps into their Five’s arms and gives them a huge kiss on the mouth.

Klaus is very good at making flower arrangements and he loves his small shop. But he’s not a natural business person and so hires Five to help him keep his shop open.

The best part of class for Five was his heated debates with Klaus. For the rest of the Hagreeves - and Pogo - the best part was, when both of them finally went on a date together.

Five used to be the perfect child, always doing what he’s told, never acting up. But he’s finally had enough and wants to break out of this fake idyll Reginald shows to the world by being even more fake and who’s better than Klaus as his fake partner to give a big middle finger to Reggie?

Klaus/Five finds out that their childhood imaginary friend or hallucination is actually a real person from another universe and sets about trying to meet the other in person.

Dialogue Prompts

“Just remember, if we get in trouble, you’re deaf and I don’t speak English.”

“Are you sober?”   “I’m moderately functional.”   “I’ll take that as a no.”

"I might have slept with your (insert article of clothing) when you were gone."

"I don't feel safe letting you be alone when you're in that shape."

"This body is mine. You got that?"

“That’s it- You’re in time out.” “What?! I’m not a child-“ “I don’t care! Time out!”

“I’m gonna mark your entire body. Make sure everyone knows who you belong to.”

"I know I'm a fucking despicable person, but I won't watch idly while you fall into my shitty footsteps."

"Do you ever wear a shirt?"

"You're making me moan and this is a very inconvenient place for it."

“Don’t look at me, I was still dead at the time.”

“Do you need anything? Anything at all? I’m always here, just shout and I’ll come running. Do you want me to get a bell, so you can ring it and I’ll come? Would that be easier? You know what, I’ll get a bell just in case.”

“I can’t concentrate, when you look at me like that.” “Well, you should be concentrating on me instead, so...”

"You're very lucky I have questionable taste."

“I can’t lose you again! Please, don’t make me lose you again.”

“I was always afraid of being in a relationship, because I can’t always be affectionate like people expect me to be. But you always seem to know how far we can go and I trust you so much.”

[paranormalyyourz]

The Black Angel of Oakland Cemetery, Iowa City

In Oakland Cemetery, on the north side of Iowa City, Iowa, stands a foreboding, mysterious statue. Locals tell tales of the mysterious powers and curses the memorial contains. Legions flock to the site to tempt their fates by testing the various legends surrounding it. She is the mysterious Black Angel. The Black Angel is an eight-foot tall bronze statue that stands over the graves of three members of the Feldevert family. The stories associated with the statue tell of its mysterious change in color. Over time the mournful winged angel has transform from her original brilliant bronze tint to a more dark and foreboding black hue. All attempts to restore the statue to its original gleaming incarnation have failed, and the Angel continues to get darker and more ominous looking with each passing year. There are a few legends that attempt to explain this drastic change. One story says that the matriarch of the family beneath the angel, Teresa Feldevert, was an evil witch in life. Her evil was so great that even in death it managed to taint the monument directly above her. Another legend states that when Teresa’s husband buried her, he swore never to dishonor her memory by sleeping with another woman. As time went on and he managed to move past his grief, he found another sweetheart and slept with her. This breaking of his graveside promise resulted in the Black Angel’s discoloration.

Regardless of the disputes over why the Angel is cursed, there are a slew of stories about the danger the Black Angel poses to those still living. Many legends involve kissing in front of the statue. It is said that if a girl is kissed directly in front of the Angel, the statue will return back its original golden color if that girl is a virgin. This is, however, a double-edged sword, as another legend states that any woman kissed in front of the monument will die within six months. One girl who should never be kissed is the Black Angel herself. It’s said that any man foolish enough to attempt this feat will die instantaneously. Even touching or merely looking directly into the eyes of the Black Angel reportedly results in the offender coming down with a mysterious and incurable illness. Anyone looking to vandalize the statue will also be struck down swiftly; one story says that a group of men once urinated on the statue and got in a fatal car accident on their way home from the cemetery that very night.

The statue itself is rather strange. Unlike most angelic grave markers, the Black Angel is staring down at the ground and has her wings pointing downwards. The imposing black figure seems to be making no effort towards entering Heaven. Instead, she holds her ground here on Earth, standing as a reminder of pain and death, and inflicting those very things upon those who disrespect her.

The Black Angel Has the Look That Kills For those who have grown up in the Iowa City area, a nighttime visit to the "Black Angel" is almost a rite of passage, a necessary part of growing up and

facing your darkest fears. To many, who can often recite dark tales of the Angel, the story is little more than a local legend. However, the Black Angel does have a very real history... and according to some, there is reason to be afraid of her!

Teresa Feldevert commissioned the bronze statue in 1911 as a monument for both her husband Nicholas and her teenaged son, Eddie. Many consider it to be one of the greatest works of art in the area, having been created by Daniel Chester French, the same sculptor responsible for the gigantic statue of Abraham Lincoln at the memorial in Washington.

No one knows how the stories of death and curses got started, but perhaps they came about because of the appearance of the statue itself. The eyes of the figure are truly eerie with swirled irises that seem to bulge from the blankness of the rest of the eye. They seem to stare at the visitor from beneath strangely drooping eyelids... and effect that can be unnerving at best. The sheer size of the statue does little to convince the visitor of the angel’s celestial goodwill either. Some claim that looking directly into the mysterious eyes of the Angel at midnight will result in a fatal curse upon the gazer. Others maintain that the curse is transmitted only if a person actually touches the statue.

One has to wonder if there is any truth to these legends at all? It’s doubtful, but who can really say for sure? As nearly every legend has some basis in fact, I can’t help but wonder how this story got started in the first place. Is the Black Angel of Oakland Cemetery really cursed? I don’t know, but I don’t suggest waiting around the cemetery at midnight to find out!  –Troy Taylor

Illustration by Tamara Pellek

Weird Iowa

[uenodivision]

Sakurai Clan Drama Track 1 - So It Goes.

Pt. 4

-- Yanaka Cemetery, Ueno Division --

[The time was approximately 6:20 P.M., meaning the sun was setting just below the city line, and night was approaching, though light was still present in the sky. The city's cemetery, Yanaka Cemetery, was peaceful during this time of day, or rather, the moment was very tranquil. The wind was blowing, scattering the cherry blossom petals along the pathway and onto some of the graves.]

[Walking through the cemetery, the figures of Kisouna and Yomi Yuzairu, who was holding her mother's hand, stopped at a not-so-small gravesite which read: 'Here lies Saito Yuzairu: A loving husband and a good father. May he R.I.P.']

[Kneeling downward, the attorney placed a small bouquet of red and white roses atop the gravesite before standing back up, still holding onto her daughter.]

Kisouna: *smiling sadly* Hello, my husband. It’s good to speak with you again. *Pats her daughter’s head* I brought our daughter with me today.

Yomi: *Waves at the gravesite* Hi daddy.

Kisouna: *Smiles at her daughter before looking back at the grave* I'm sorry we haven't come to see you in a long while. A lot of things have happened since we last spoke.

Yomi: *Excited* Yeah! Mommy's going to enter a song tournament!

Kisouna: *Laughs at her daughter* Yes, like our daughter said, I'm entering a tournament alongside two others. The three of us are...

[As the widow continued speaking to the grave (with her daughter interceding at some points), the figures of Aranai Norikoru and Shisuta Heisha were a ways away from their teammate, silently watching her. The nun had a smile on her face as she looked at her friend and daughter, whilst the former Bōsōzoku was leaning against a tree with her hands behind her head, a bored look on her face.]

Shisuta: *Notices Aranai's facial features* Something bothering you, Aranai?

Aranai: *Shrugs her shoulders, still bored* Not really. Just never been a big fan of cemeteries.

Shisuta: Ah. Do they frighten you?

Aranai: *Looks at her friend, an incredulous look on her face* What? No!

Shisuta: Ah, my apologies. Then how exactly do they bother you?

Aranai: *Shrugs her shoulders again, frowning* I don't know. I just don't really see the point in them, is all.

Shisuta: *Frowns a bit* What do you mean? Cemeteries are places to honor the dead and comfort their souls. It's a place for people who have embarked upon the 'eternal sleep'.

Aranai: *Looks at Shisuta, frowning* Okay, one: please don't say those kind of things around me. And two: I obviously know that. I just don't see the point in remembering something that's no longer here.

Shisuta: *Looks at Aranai, shocked* Aranai-chan, I cannot believe what I am hearing. You surely cannot mean that.

Aranai: *Shrugs, not bothered by what she said as she looks out in the distance* I just don't see the need or the point in dredging up things that already happened. The past is the past. People should let it stay there.

Aranai: *Looks back at Shisuta* What good does bringing up old stuff or honoring the dead do?

[Listening to her leader talk, the Catholic nun's frown deepened. Though she knew Aranai was only speaking that way because of her age and naivety, Shisuta still did not like hearing her friend speak that way.]

Shisuta: You say that honoring the dead does no good?

Aranai: *Shrugs again* Pretty much. *Looks off in the distance and spots something* Prime example...

[Shisuta looked as Aranai pointed to a young couple who were standing by a gravesite, a ways away from where Kisouna and Yomi were. The woman had both hands over her eyes as she was sobbing, whilst the man had a comforting hand on her shoulder.]

Aranai: Coming here to this place is obviously causing that woman a lot of grief. So why come?

Aranai: *Puts her hand back down and leans back against the tree* Places like these only exist to make people miserable.

Shisuta: *Shakes her head 'no'* I have to disagree. *Looks back at the mourning woman* You say that this place serves to make people miserable or has no meaning. I don't believe so.

Shisuta: I think... the meaning helps those who were left behind come to terms with reality.

Aranai: *Cocks an eye at Shisuta* Reality?

Shisuta: *Nods* Yes. *Looks back at the woman* This place helps to let people know that though their loved ones are no longer here physically, they are still with them in mind and spirit.

Shisuta: *Looks around the cemetery* This place is filled with memories. Some good, and some sad. Being here helps one to remember all those moments they had. They are a... treasure.

Aranai: *Looks around the cemetery* But this is just a place. Memories are something you have with you all the time, right?

Shisuta: *Smiles* We humans have a tendency to give meaning to places and things.

Aranai: *Looks off sideways* Not me.

Shisuta: Oh? *Still smiling* Then what about your motorbike that you seem to care so much for?

Aranai: *Looks at Shisuta, surprised before frowning* That's different!

Shisuta: *Continues smiling* Oh? And in what way?

[As she opened her mouth to speak, the former Bōsōzoku slowly closed it. Why did she keep her Yamaha around? Was it because it was just her preferred way of transportation? No, that wasn't it. If she had said that, she'd just be lying to Shisuta and herself. No, the real reason she liked, no, loved that bike was because it reminded her of the days when she and her gang were together.]

[Realizing the nun's point, the group leader groaned and just looked away, refusing to look at the nun, who was no doubt smiling as she had given Aranai something to ponder about. After several minutes, the duo looked as Kisouna and her daughter walked up to them.]

Kisouna: Sorry for the wait.

Shisuta: *Still smiling* It's no trouble. *Looks down at Yomi* And how was your talk with your daddy, Yomi-chan?

Yomi: *Beams* Good! I told Daddy all about how school is!

Shisuta: That's truly outstanding, Yomi-chan. I'm sure he's very happy to hear that.

[Aranai, who chose not to include herself in the conversation, still had her back to the tree, a bored look on her face. However, a frown soon replaced it as she suddenly started looking around, alert.]

Shisuta: *Notices her teammate's behavior* Something wrong, Aranai-chan?

Aranai: *Doesn't answer right away* ...Anyone else notice how quiet this place got all of a sudden?

[The attorney prepared to open her mouth, stating that cemeteries were supposed to be quiet. However, after carefully listening to her surroundings, she noticed that her team leader was correct: it was far too quiet.]

[A 'caw caw' was heard as a bird on a nearby tombstone flew away towards the entrance, making the four females turn their attention to it. Their eyes grew wide as suddenly surrounding them were a group of miscreants, serious looks on each of their faces. They all looked to out-of-sorts to be called a gang, but the looks on their faces made them seem too focused to be called thugs, either.]

[What drew the women's attention was what each man had in one of their hands: a microphone. It was highly unlikely that Chuohku would send a bunch of thugs a pair of Hypnosis Microphones, so there was only one explanation: they were all illegal mics.]

Aranai: *Glares at the gang* Who the hell are you losers?

[If the gang heard the team leader's question, they chose not to respond.]

Kisouna: *Also glaring at the gang* She asked you all a question. Identify yourselves at once.

Yomi: *Hiding behind her mother* M-m-mommy?

[Shushing her daughter, the attorney and the rest of SC looked as the gang parted, making way for an elderly gentleman wearing a black tuxedo with a green vest and carrying a brown and gold walking cane, though he was not using it.]

???: Would you three happen to be the Ueno Division's team, Sakurai Clan?

Aranai: *Glaring at the old man* Who the hell wants to know, Gramps?

Shisuta: *Frowns at Aranai, before looking at the old man* Forgive me, but you seem to have us at a disadvantage. May we know who you are?

???: Ah, of course. Please forgive me. *The old man bows placing his right hand over his chest* I am Akiharu Hino, head retainer of the Chōten family.

Kisouna: Chōten? *Kisouna frowns, as her brain tries to remember exactly where she's heard that name from*

Shisuta: I see. And is there something we can do for you, Hino-san?

Hino: My master, Tomi Chōten, wishes to speak with you all. Thus, he has invited you all to join him for dinner at his residence in Aoyama.

Aranai: *Scoffs* Ha! Invited? Give me a break!

Aranai: If this is just an invitation... *Aranai waves her at the thugs still staring at the Ueno team, poised and ready to attack* ...Then what the heck is up with your Goon Squad here?

Kisouna: *Nods* I have to agree with my friend. Judging from the appearance of these men, this doesn't seem to be an invitation we can refuse, is it?

Hino: *Sighs* Sadly, my lady, you are correct. My master was rather... insistent that I have you three there, and he wouldn't take anything less than a 'yes', I'm afraid.

[Both Aranai and Kisouna continued to frown at the gang and the old man, but subtly exchanged a nod with one another as their hands were in their respective pockets, feeling for their Hypnosis Microphones.]

Kisouna: *Has her hand wrapped around her mic in her pocket* Well, I am sorry to disappoint you, good sir. But I am afraid we must refuse your master's gracious invite. Perhaps another time, if possible.

Hino: *Sighs* As I stated, my lady, I am afraid I cannot refuse my master's orders, no matter what they may be.

Aranai: *Chuckles, taking out her mic* You really wanna do this, Gramps? Fine with me!

[As Aranai was about to make the first move, she looked as Shisuta placed an arm in front of her, halting her movement.]

Kisouna: *Surprised* Shisuta?

Aranai: *Shocked and upset* What the heck are you doing?

Shisuta: *Speaking out loud to everyone* I feel it would be very rude and disrespectful to disturb the slumber of those resting here.

Aranai: *Upset* Seriously, Shisuta?! Now is not the time for religious rules and stuff.

Kisouna: I have to agree, Shisuta. This isn't my ideal place for a battle either, but we have no choice.

Shisuta: *Frowns at her teammates* Do you two really want to battle in a cemetery? In front of a child?

[Pointing to Yomi, Kisouna and Aranai looked as the four-year-old was still clinging to her mother's skirt, scared.]

Shisuta: *Looks at Hino* We will accept your invitation, on the terms that you and your... friends agree not to do any of us any harm.

Hino: *Bows* Of course not. Thank you very much, milady.

20 minutes later...

-- Chōten Residence, Aoyama Division --

[After a tense, but uneventful ride in a long, black limousine, the group of SC finally arrived at their destination: a large, inconspicuous mansion that easily took up several acres of land. For the most part, the three women were impressed, though considering their current circumstance, they knew to be on their guard.]

Kisouna: *Whispers to Aranai as they step out of the car* Are you sure Yomi will be alright?

Aranai: *Whispers back* Yomi will be fine. Kaba promised to text me if anything happened... not that anything should happen.

[Before leaving, Kisouna requested that she leave her daughter behind with Aranai's friends. Though Yomi begged to come with her, Kisouna's decision was final, though she knew how upset her daughter would be.]

Kisouna: I'll have to buy her some cake to make it up to her when this is over.

[Sensing her friend's distress, Shisuta placed a comforting hand on Kisouna's shoulder, smiling at her, which prompted the attorney to smile back. Their attention was drawn to Hino, who walked in front of them.]

Hino: *Looking at the Ueno team* I thank you all again for agreeing to my master's request. I apologize greatly for the methods I used to obtain your cooperation.

Hino: *Bows to SC* I humbly beg your forgiveness.

[Sensing the sincerity in the old man's voice, Shisuta stepped forward.]

Shisuta: It is fine. Though our introduction could have been better, we thank you for doing no harm to us or my friend's daughter.

Shisuta: *Bows back* You are forgiven, Hino-san.

Aranai: Tch, speak for yourself...

Hino: *Bows again* Thank you kindly, my lady. *Raises his head* If you'll follow me, I'll introduce you to my master.

[Leading the way, the Ueno Division team followed the old butler as he walked up the stairs to the entranceway, through the front door.]

Aranai: *Rubbing her left arm* This place makes my shoulder blades itch.

Kisouna: *Follows behind Aranai* I'm in agreement. *Looks around* It feels as if I'm being scrutinized.

Shisuta: That is simply because we are all out of our comfort zones. *Looks at her teammates, smiling* Let us be done with our business here and return to Ueno quickly, shall we?

Aranai: Peh, you'll get no argument here from me.

Kisouna: Indeed.

[Still following behind the old butler, the trio was led upstairs to the second story to an outdoor patio, where a long dining table with a graceful white tablecloth was situated. The table was elegantly set to serve up to eight people. Standing in front of the table, looking out over the district of Aoyama, were three men communicating with one another.]

Hino: *Bowing with his hand over his chest* My lord, I've returned. *Turns back to the women*

Hino: Ladies Aranai, Shisuta, Kisouna, may I introduce to you, *Points to the heaviest man of the trio with muscles on him* ...Master Karada Kessaku...

Karada: *Turns to the women, putting his right hand up in the air* What's up?!

Hino: *Points to the tallest of three men* ...Master Luis Kōkyū...

Luis: *Turns to the women, nodding his head at them, a neutral expression on his face* A pleasure.

Hino: ...And lastly, my master and leader, Master Tomi Chōten.

[The last one in the group, the man in the middle, slowly turned around, revealing his features to the group, who were surprised to see that he was a young man, still in his early-to-mid 20s.]

Tomi: *A smirk appears on his face as he bows before SC* A pleasure to meet you, Sakurai Clan. *Raises back up* I thank you dearly for accepting my invitation.

Aranai: *Scowls and scoffs* 'Invitation?' Yeah right. Is that what you call sending your thugs to ambush us into getting to meet with you?

Shisuta: Aranai!

Tomi: *Places his left hand over his body, bowing* My apologies. I instructed Hino-san to use any means necessary to get you to come. I apologize if I've offended or hurt you in any way.

[Aranai and Kisouna felt their faces frown, as their disliking for this man was slowly rising. Though his apology sounded sincere, they could tell that it had a somewhat mocking tone to it.]

Tomi: *Notes the ladies' frowns, but continues smirking* Again, I sincerely apologize. If it will make you feel better, I can have the Aoyama Police Department send some units down to apprehend the men who ambushed you.

Kisouna: *Still frowning* Thank you, but there is no need. The crime happened in our city of Ueno. Therefore, we will take care of it ourselves.

Shisuta: *Looks worriedly at Kisouna* Kisouna-san...

Tomi: *Looks surprised, but shrugs it off* If that is what you desire, then I shall respect your wishes.

Aranai: Tch, don't make it seem like you're doing us a favor, pal.

Tomi: Well then... *Waves his hand over the table* ...Shall we have dinner?

Five minutes later...

[Within a few minutes, everyone present was seated at the table with a plate of food in front of them. Except for Shisuta, who had a simple plate of salad, everyone was served a cooked steak with melting butter on top and lettuce beneath it, along with a side of peas and fries. To complete it, everyone also had a glass of red wine beside them.]

[While the men of the table were talking and eating with no complaint, the three women felt a bit awkward, despite the free meal. Though the dinner didn't seem to have any ulterior motives, they could not help but feel that there was more to this than Tomi was letting on. Truthfully, the young socialite could tell the women were feeling uncomfortable, and he was enjoying every second of it.]

Tomi: *Notes the girls' expression* Is something wrong? Is the meal not to your liking?

Shisuta: *Looks up from her salad, surprised* N-no! No, we are thankful for the meal you've prepared, Tomi-san. Really, we are. *Bows her head in 'thanks'*

Shisuta: It is just... we are simply wondering... well, what exactly the purpose of all of this is...?

Kisouna: I have to agree. *Puts down her dinner fork* You can't have called the three of us out here simply for a dinner.

[Tomi felt himself smirking, inwardly. He heard about the intellect and intuition of the Ueno team. And it seems he was not mistaken.]

Tomi: *Takes a sip of his wine before placing it down* You are correct. There is a reason I called you here.

Tomi: As you are no doubt aware, the Division Rap Battle tournament will be commencing in just a week or so. *Places his hands in front of him* And as the bracket shows, the first match will be between the Ueno team, Sakurai Clan, and the Aoyama team, the Jet Set Trio.

Karada: That's us, yo! *Points to himself and his friends*

Luis: Yes, I think they realized that already, Karada.

Kisouna: Of course! That's why the name 'Chōten' sounded so familiar! He's the leader of the Aoyama team, Jet Set Trio! How could I forget something so important?

[As the prosecuting attorney was mentally chastising herself, she snapped out of her reverie when she heard her leader speak.]

Aranai: So... what? Is this meal supposed to be some way to wish us 'good luck' or something?

Tomi: Not exactly. *Chuckles softly to himself* I called you here because I think that we all can agree that this D.R.B. is just Chuhoku's way of trying to assert their dominance over all the divisions.

Kisouna: *Nods in agreement* True. This is actually we... *Points to herself and her teammates* ...had discussed before.

Tomi: *Nods back* Yes. And knowing them and their methods, they probably coerced you into joining like they did us, correct?

Aranai: *Looks away, upset* Tch, that's an understatement...

Tomi: Therefore, I think it behooves all of us that the least number of teams available would be for the best.

[The women of Sakurai Clan felt themselves frown in confusion, as they knew not what the young socialite was alluding to.]

Kisouna: *Still frowning* Forgive me, Tomi-san, but what exactly are you saying?

[Looking to one of his servants who was standing diligently by the entranceway, the young socialite nodded to him, which prompted the servant to walk over to the women. Taking something out of his pocket, the females looked as a red envelope was placed in front of each of them. Looking at each other, the women picked up their respective envelopes and could feel that they were filled with something. As a prosecuting attorney and a former Bōsōzoku, both Kisouna and Aranai already had a pretty good idea of what was inside.]

[Opening them up, their suspicions were confirmed as inside each of them was a large bundle of money, close to ¥100,000,000.]

Tomi: *Places his hands in front of him* I'll be frank with you: my associates and I would like you to forfeit our match in the D.R.B. The amount placed in each of your envelopes is equivalent to how much you'd have received if you won the competition.

[As they heard Tomi speak, the women's eyes grew large and they knew not whether it was because of his words or the money they had in their hands. It was now plain to all what exactly this was: a bribe. And as such, Aranai could not stop herself from laughing, drawing attention to everyone present.]

Aranai: *Still chuckling* Really? So, that's what this is all about? Your attempt at getting an easy win? You don't have the balls to face us, so your option is to instead try to get us to quit so you can get off scot-free?

Karada: Woah, hold on there! *Stands up* You're making it sound like we're cowards or something!

Aranai: *Looks at Karada* Yeah, that's exactly what I'm making it sound like!

Kisouna: I have to agree. *Stands up* This attempt at bribery is in not only in poor taste, but it is also very cowardly. If you actually believed that we'd accept your proposal, then I'm sorry to say, you're gravely mistaken.

Shisuta: *Places her arms in front of Aranai and Kisouna* What my friends are trying to say is, though we are grateful for your offer, we sadly cannot accept it.

Tomi: Oh, and may I know the reason why?

Shisuta: *Sighs* Tomi-san, please try to look at this from our perspective. If you were in our place and someone had tried to bribe you, would you accept?

Tomi: *Scoffs* Of course not.

Shisuta: *Smiles* Then, surely you can see...

Tomi: *Interrupts* However... *Stands up* ...I am not you.

Shisuta: *Shocked* ...I am... sorry?

Tomi: As I stated, I am not you. I am of high class, one born above the likes of you peasants. If anything, you all should be honored to be in my presence. And now that I graciously offer you a proposal, you choose to throw in back in my face.

Tomi: *Scowls at the women* That, I cannot forgive.

[At this, all six people felt themselves scowling at one another, even Luis, who was silently eating his meal, stood along Karada and Tomi, frowning at his opponents. Shisuta, the peaceful one of the SC, also could not hold back the frown on her face. The six people stood there for over a minute staring at each other in distaste before Kisouna spoke.]

Kisouna: I feel our time here is now over. Thank you all for the meal and your time. *Turns to leave*

Shisuta: *Bows her head at JST, still frowning* May the Lord continue to bless and keep you. *Follows behind Kisouna*

[Aranai simply scoffed as she turned to follow her friends out of the house.]

Tomi: *Smirks* Yes, run back to that cesspool that you call Ueno City.

[At that, Aranai slowly stopped and turned around, glaring daggers at the JST leader. Slowly walking back to the table, she stood there silently before looking down at the red envelope that she and the others had left behind. Picking it up, she felt that the money was still inside. Holding it up, she did something that shocked and surprised everyone present. Turning it sideways, the former Bōsōzoku ripped up the envelope in half with the money still inside and proceeded to tear it up before throwing it in the air. Noting the shocked look on the young socialite's face, she smirked and again walked out, throwing JST "the bird" as she left.]

A week and a half later...

-- Division Rap Battle Coliseum, Chuohku Ward --

[The Day of the Division Rap Battle Tournament had finally arrived, as the coliseum was packed to the brim with people from all throughout Japan, ready and waiting for the show to get underway. The bracket for the tournament was still unknown, but the divisions representing would be: Ueno, Aoyama, Harajuku, Saitama, Shinagawa, Kyoto, and much more.]

[Speaking of the Ueno team, the Sakurai Clan patiently waited for their time to come in one of the rooms in the coliseum. Aranai sat in one of the lounge chairs in the room, cleaning her Hyp Mic with a white cloth. Shisuta was on the ground, sitting on her legs with her hands clasped together and her eyes closed, silently praying. And lastly, Kisouna, who was also sitting in one of the lounge chairs was silently staring at the wedding ring her husband had given her on their wedding day. She wasn't as devout as Shisuta, but she silently prayed he and her daughter, who was in the stands with Aranai's friends, would give her the strength she needed to win this day.]

[On the other side of the building in another room, the Jet Set Trio of Aoyama also waited for their time to come. Tomi, the leader, was on the phone with his mother and father, who were also in the stands, wishing him the best of luck. Karada was on the ground, grunting as he was doing sit-ups, getting himself pumped and motivated. And Luis was on his phone, looking at a picture of him and his Abuela, his face in a neutral position. She, unfortunately, could not make it to the event, but she promised that she'd be with him there in spirit.]

[Five minutes later, all of the Division teams were out center stage in front of the crowd. Different cheers and chants could be heard as they were all rooting for their respective Divisions to win. Standing in front of the teams was none other than the Deputy Prime Minister, Ichijiku Kadenokoji. A spotlight appeared from above shining down on her as she raised her right arm in the air.]

Ichijiku: The time for the final part of the Division Rap Battle Tournament will now commence!

[At her announcement, the audience began screaming and cheering in anticipation. More lights above came on, showing all of the various teams from the Divisions. Some reveled in the cheer and admiration of the crowds, while some wished they were somewhere else, and others paid no attention, just ready and eager to get started.]

Ichijiku: Before we begin, the Prime Minister and leader of the Party of Words, Ms. Otome Tohoten, would like to speak a few words. You will all give her your undivided attention!

[At this, an image of the Chairwoman's face appeared on the large TV screen in the Coliseum. Her appearance was met with mixed reactions, especially from the teams. Some kept their faces neutral, while most did not bother to hide their disdain or hatred from the woman who was responsible for their not only being there but also for directly or indirectly ruining their lives.]

Otome: The time of using profane weapons and cheap trickery to win a fight has come to an end. A new age has arrived, one where not swords or fists win the day, but the power of one's words. All of you use words to protect and conquer territories. This is undeniable proof that words will always be more powerful than weapons ever could be.

Aranai: *Scowls* This bitch sure loves to hear herself talk, doesn't she?

Kisouna: *Scowls* She reminds me of my opposition: they use a lot of words, but they're really not saying much in the end.

Tomi: *Glares* You'll pay for threatening my family one day, Otome. I promise you that.

Otome: *Holds up a Hypmic* Now, with your Hypnosis Microphone in hand, demonstrate the power of your words, and achieve unconditional victory! The Division Rap Battle Tournament will now begin!

[After her short speech, the Division teams gathered around as Ichijiku explained the rules. After a flip of the coin determining who would strike first, the other teams save for the ones from Ueno and Aoyama remained on stage. The two teams activated their Hyp Microphones before staring each down.]

Ichijiku: Now, if nothing further, it is time to start! Get ready...

BRING THE BEAT!!!

The End

#hypnosis mic #hypnosis microphone #hypmic #hypmic oc #hypnosis mic oc #aranai norikoru #shisuta heisha #kisouna yuzairu #ueno division #sakurai clan #tomi chōten #karada kessaku #luis kōkyū #aoyama division #jet set trio #drama track #so it goes

[nonbaznary]

Carry On Countdown - Day 10: Crossover

(Not posting on AO3)

Keep reading on Tumblr below the cut!

Words: 2401

I’m a bit late with other prompts BUT for today, I edited a Cemetery Boys scene (no spoilers, really, it’s in the beginning and the plot/summary of the book basically gives this scene away), because I couldn’t help but see similarities about Snowbaz and Yadrian, both canon and headcanon. Anyways, I love my transmasc awkward heroes and their undead nobinary gay boyfriends who may seem scary but are total sweethearts. I also changed some elements of the original story so it sounded more like Carry On, so it’s kind of a Cemetery Boys remix, or something. Anyways LOL happy COC day 10!! Hope y’all like this <3 Also thank you Aiden Thomas your gays gave new meaning to my life

Cemetery Boys AU

Simon could feel energy swarming below him.

“Do you feel that, too?” Penelope asked.

“Yeah. It’s way stronger in here.” he said. Whatever spirit that led them here was close.

Simon took a step back, and his shoe slipped. He’d stepped on a piece of cloth.

Penny moved in. “What’s that?”

“I think it’s a scarf.” Simon muttered, pointing his lantern to it. The scarf was pale blue. He bent down and carefully picked it up. As soon as his fingers made contact with the fabric, a shiver ran through his body. Electricity flooded through his veins, and he took a sharp breath. Something pulsed under his feet, synchronized with his own heartbeat.

“I think- It’s a tether.” he said, a spike of adrenaline making him feel light-headed.

When a spirit attached itself to a tether, they had to stay near it. That was why haunted houses existed, but not many cities haunted by a single ghost – spirits couldn’t venture far from their tethers. And mages could only release them and help them pass peacefully to their eternal rest once they were free of their earthly bindings.

Simon had never actually held a spirit’s tether before. They were incredibly powerful. Some of the mages claimed that mishandling a spirit’s tether would get you cursed. But Simon had never heard of anyone actually getting possessed, and he had no intention of disrespecting this tether.

“But it’s not Ebb’s. She didn’t own any silk blue scarfs, that I’m sure of.” Penelope said, reaching out as if to touch it before thinking better.

“It could be Ebb’s.” Simon tried to reason, his hope of finding his friend fighting against logic. He squeezed the scarf in his hand. Warmth spread through his palm and up his arm. He turned to Penny with a smile. “There’s only one way to find out.”

Penelope gave him a skeptical look, and Simon shrugged.

“I have to try – What if Ebb’s spirit got tethered to this instead of her staff?” he said, twisting the scarf between his fingers.

“It could be attached to someone who’s gone malefic.” Penelope said, casting a pointed look around the dilapidated church.

“Then it’s a good thing I’ve got a sword now, innit?” Simon said. Penny raised her eyebrows, but then grinned.

“All right, Greatest Mage, work your magic.”

The rush of excitement made Simon feel giddy as he knelt.

He held his hand over his hip, calling for the Sword of Mages. "In justice. In courage. In defense of the weak. In the face of the mighty. Through magic and wisdom and good." The hilt materializes in his grip, and he swings the sword up to his shoulder. Maybe it was the feel of the blade in his hand or the magic he knew flowed through his veins, but Simon felt recklessly brave.

He stood up again and tried to take a deep breath, but he was too excited, practically buzzing. His palms were sweaty. He looked over to Penelope, who gave him an enthusiastic and encouraging nod.

Simon had seen his mentor, Davy, summon spirits before. It wasn’t exactly general knowledge for mages, but he knew what to do and how to do it. It was one of the few incantations that Simon believed he could get right, like with the Sword of Mages, because those weren’t like other spells. They didn’t come so easily to other mages as regular incantations did. Magic words are tricky, and Simon had never been good with words. You have to have a good vocabulary to do magic. You have to be able to think on your feet and be brave enough to speak up. And you have to actually understand what you’re saying, how the words translate into magic.

None of that came naturally to Simon. And his magic... He was powerful, he knew that, but his magic behaved differently than everyone else’s. His magic was immediate and literal. Sometimes, it acted when he didn’t even mean to make it do anything. It just… happened.

And that was exactly what he needed right now.

He felt the magic inside him, strong and infinite. He called it to the surface, his skin suddenly warmer, and held out his arm, the scarf looped around his hand. Simon cleared his throat, trying to breathe around the lump that had formed.

“I summon you, spirit!”

For a terrifying second, nothing happened. Then, an explosion of heat and golden light. Simon sprang back, choking on the smoke.

There was a person in front of him, doubled over their hand and knees, clutching their chest.

Simon could hardly believe his eyes. “It worked!”

The spirit’s face was screwed up tight in a grimace, their fingers knotted into the material of his shirt, a beautiful floral, white with blue and purple flowers and fat striped bumblebees.

“That’s not Ebb.” Penelope tried to whisper, but she’d never had a very good inside voice.

Simon groaned and dragged a hand over his face. On the bright side, he had actually summoned a real-life spirit

On the not-so-bright side, he had summoned the wrong one.

“Obviously.” Simon growled back, unable to look away from the spirit as they gasped for breath, the muscles in their neck straining. They had that translucent quality around the edges, like all spirits, Their eyes swung to Simon and Penny, with a handsome but very angry face, their grimace now more of a sneer.

“Well, at least it’s not a malefic spirit?” Penny offered.

The person staggered to their feet, upright but unsteady. “Who the hell are you?”, they snarled, dark grey eyes blazing, sharp as obsidian.

“Uhh” was Simon’s unhelpful reply, suddenly back to being capable of forming a coherent sentence.

“Where am I?” the person’s voice coming out of them in a tight roar, head tilting back as they took in their surroundings. “Am I in a church?” their attention swung back to Simon and Penelope with an accusing glare. “Who let me in a church?”

Familiarity prickled at the back of Simon’s mind, racing to place their sharp edges, posh look, and the irritated, cold tone in their voice.

“Uh- well- you see,” Simon stammered, not really sure how to explain their situation, but he wasn’t given the chance to finish. The person’s eyes snagged on the scarf still dangling from Simon’s hand.

“Hey!” Simon saw their anger swell, hunching their shoulders, and propelling them forward. The spirit stomped up to him, fire in their eyes. “That’s mine.”

They reached out to snatch the scarf, but their hand went right through it. They frowned and tried again, and when their hand slid through it a second time, they froze, blinked their eyes, and slowly waved it back and forth.

Their eyes went wide, and they stumbled back. “What the hell is this?” they demanded to know, looking between their hand and the scarf and Simon and Penelope.

“Wow, this is really awkward.” Simon said, scratching at the back of his neck. Penelope seemed less worried.

“Well, there’s no denying you’re an actual mage now.” she said, circling the spirit with keen interest. They scowled at her.

“Who are you, and what are you doing with my scarf?” they demanded, looking to Simon for answers.

“Well, uh, I used it to summon you.” he tried.

The spirit crossed their arms, arching a thick eyebrow.

“Yeah, we thought it might have belonged to Ebb.” What was the gentlest way to tell someone they were dead?

“Ebeneza. Our friend.” Penelope specified.

The spirit didn’t seem at all interested in who Ebb was. “It’s mine.” they insisted with a growl. “It belonged to my mother. It’s got our last name on it see?” their fingers curling in demand.

Simon turned the fabric over to find that a name had indeed been recorded in a tip. He blinked. “Oh.” The delicate cursive letters read PITCH. “Oh.”

The Pitch family was well known, and also magickal. They didn’t do any death-related magic, though, not like Davy or the Bunces – they were magickal authorities. Royalty, aristocrats, leaders. Researchers, linguists. They knew spells like no other magickal families. They were fire magicians, brilliant with fire. But they weren’t involved with action, not like the mages Simon and Penelope grew with. The Pitches didn’t know about death magick, not like them.

Simon knew the Pitch’s heir, Baz Pitch, or rather knew of them. They went to highschool together, and Baz had a bit of a... reputation. They used to be a top student, and when they were roaming the halls it was hard to not notice them. They had the sort of presence that demanded everyone’s attention without needing to ask. They were hard to miss.

Until they got expelled.

“Do you know how you got here?” Simon questioned them. Baz glared.

“No. All I remember is walking down the street with my friends. Then something- someone-” they frowned. “I just remember getting knocked over.” They unconsciously rubbed at the same point on their chest, near their heart. “Then the next thing I knew, I was in a church with you two.”

Three beats passed before Baz’s eyes went wide. “I died, didn’t I?” Simon and Penelope looked at each other. “Am I dead?”

Simon gave a small nod. Baz stumbled back a step, their body wavering in and out of existence for a moment. “Oh, Crowley. My aunt is going to kill me.” They pressed both hands against their face and groaned against their palms.

“Looks like someone already beat her to it.” Penelope pointed out.

“So I’m a spirit now.” Baz scowled, ignoring the girl. They didn’t sound angry or dismayed, just… annoyed. As if this were just an inconvenience. “And you’re also mages, I suppose. So you can send spirits to the afterlife, right?”

“Yes- Well, no-” Simon fumbled, trying to explain himself. “I should be able to- er, I guess- I haven’t done the releasing part yet-”

“Great. So I’m stuck with two shitty witches.”

Annoyance flared in Simon. “Look, this is my first time, okay?” Baz blinked slowly at him, unimpressed. “You- You’re attached to a tether, your scarf. So I just need to destroy the-”

“No, no way!” Baz shook their head. “That’s my mother’s scarf, you are not destroying it.” They tried to snatch it from Simon, but, again, they were left with a fistful of empty air. Penelope chuckled.

“No, just listen-” Simon gripped his blade, raising it.

Baz scoffed, which was not how Simon thought any sane person should react to getting a sword pointed at them.

“What are you going to do, stab me?” Baz’s laughter was flat and sharp. “Already dead, remember?”

“I’m not going to stab you!” No matter how tempting it is, Simon thought. Penelope cut in.

“He can use this to destroy the tie keeping you here.” Baz opened their mouth to argue, but Penny pressed on. “Not the scarf, just the tie anchoring you to the scarf. Then you can go to the afterlife and be at peace, okay?”

Baz smirked. “Yeah, no. He’s not doing that.”

Simon groaned. Of course the first spirit he summoned was a git that wouldn’t just be released willingly. No, he had to get stuck with the one who had an attitude problem.

“I’m doing this. Right now.” Simon said. “We still need to find Ebb, and, besides, if you stay here like this for too long, you’ll turn all dark and violent and start hurting people.”

Baz crossed their arms over their chest. “No.” Simon looked at Penelope for help, but she just shrugged her shoulders.

“You’re leaving me no choice.” Simon pushed his jaw forward to stand his ground. A thick eyebrow quirked. Simon called for his magic, squeezing the scarf in his hand. “Show me the bond!”

The Sword of Mages and the scarf glowed bright, filling the church with a warm blaze that made all three of them squint. A golden thread sparked to life in the air, starting from the blue fabric and ending at the center of Baz’s chest.

Simon inhaled a deep breath. “I set you free for the next life!” he sliced his sword through the air, aiming directly for the golden thread. Instead of severing it, the edge of the blade caught on the line. The Sword of Mages vibrated in his hand, and small sparks flew from where they met.

Baz relaxed, but Simon wasn’t giving up just yet. He tried slicing through it again, then tried sawing at it, but all it did was send more sparks flying and make his shoulder hurt.

Simon turned over to see an obnoxious smirk on Baz’s face.

“Wow. You really suck at this.” they said, looking pleased with themselves. Simon turned to Penelope.

His heart hammered in his ears, and his throat felt like it was closing up on him. The sudden aching in his chest (surely not helped by his tight binder) threatened to swallow him whole. Penny was immediately at his side, her voice calm and soothing as she gripped his arms.

“Don’t worry about this! This isn’t your fault, Si.” she jerked her head in Baz’s direction. “They’re probably too bull-headed to cross over.”

“Hey!”

Penelope ignored their protest. “Just like my great-aunt, remember?”

“Maybe.” Simon mumbled. He didn’t want to think about it. Shame burned hot on his cheeks.

“Look.” Baz called. “I’m willing to cut you a deal.”

Simon and Penny turned to them.

“I’ve got unfinished business.” Baz said, brow furrowed. “And I need to check on my friends. They were with me when I died, I need to make sure they’re okay.” their face twisted between annoyance and something that could’ve been worry. “And maybe they know who got me. That could be connected-” They shook their head, interrupting themselves. “If you help me on a personal project, and let me find my friends and make sure they’re okay, I will willingly let you do what you need to do and send me to the afterlife.”

Simon looked at Penelope, who shrugged. “I don’t think we have much of a choice here.”

“Okay.” Simon took a step forward. “Wait. What’s this ‘personal project’ you’re talking about?”

Baz’s features got rigid. They stepped closer to Simon.

“My mother’s killer walks. You are going to help me find out who he is, and avenge her, and bring her peace.”

[my other works for the countdown]

#carry on countdown 2020 #simon snow #baz pitch #carry on countdown #coc 2020 #aiden thomas #carry on #cemetery boys #snowbaz #yadrian #julian diaz #nonbinary headcanon #they/them pronouns for baz pitch #trans simon snow #transmasc simon snow #rewritten scene #cemetery boys AU #carry on countdown day 10 #crossover

[myhauntedsalem]

A gravedigger/ groundskeeper shares his stories and experiences on the job

Sometimes spooky crap happens that you just cant explain. A man walked up to us as we were throwing the canvas over the dirt trailer and commented on how beautiful of a resting place it was. We assumed he was a part of the family that was currently holding visitation and told him we were sorry for his loss and agreed that it was a beautiful spot. Later on, when the crew walked through the funeral home to get to the lounge for lunch, we all saw the picture they had set out for the guy that had died. It was the same man that had just came to the burial site a few hours before. He didnt have a twin, and no one else in the family looked that much like him. That kind of crap stays with you. Chills you to the bone.

Sometimes spooky crap happens that you just cant explain. A man walked up to us as we were throwing the canvas over the dirt trailer and commented on how beautiful of a resting place it was. We assumed he was a part of the family that was currently holding visitation and told him we were sorry for his loss and agreed that it was a beautiful spot. Later on, when the crew walked through the funeral home to get to the lounge for lunch, we all saw the picture they had set out for the guy that had died. It was the same man that had just came to the burial site a few hours before. He didnt have a twin, and no one else in the family looked that much like him. That kind of crap stays with you. Chills you to the bone.

The only other time this happened to me. I was cleaning off some headstones and cleaning up the grounds when a little girl caught my eye. She was playfully wandering around and looked happy. But I didnt see any adults around so I figured she had wandered outside from the funeral home. I took my gloves off because I was about to go on break, and figured I would ask where her parents were on my way to the building. I turned around and set the gloves down. When I turned back around, she was gone. A few weeks later, I helped set a picture plaque onto a headstone, and it was 100% the same little girl I had seen. Again, another thing I can never explain.

If a grave is sloping down a hillside or sinking too much, we get permission to move them to more level and stable ground. This particular grave was one of the first that had been in the cemetery, and the dates read april 1871-august 1877. Back then they buried their dead in pine/wood boxes. We had to move this grave as it was in a bad flooding spot on the grounds and just kept sinking further down every year. When we got to the coffin. The top had caved in and you could see the remains of the little boy curled up into a ball. That gave me chills like nothing else. We figure they unintentionally buried him alive, and when he woke, didnt know what to do, and eventually just curled up in a ball and died. You could see his little skeletal hands wrapped around his knees. I’ll never forget that.

Turns out this guy was pissed that he was left out of the will, and came to the cemetery to show his disrespect to his grandmothers grave. I dont care what that person did to you. If you try to kick anyones headstone over, im kicking you in the nuts and calling the cops.

Unfortunately, this happens more than you would think. We started the morning mowing the grounds. I went to mow the far end of the grounds first, but stopped when I noticed a person laying at the edge of the woods. Upon closer inspection, it was clear that the person had committed suicide (gunshot to the head) they did find a suicide note, but we never learned why he did it there. I assume he lost a loved one and just wanted out of the pain. Or maybe wanted to make sure he was found by someone other than family. Makes you sad, man.

Good ol’ Don. He’s a nice guy. He brings the crew lunch some sundays. Because every sunday, he and his wife would go out to lunch after church. He is there every Sunday to read to her from the Bible and put fresh flowers down. He’s a sweet old man and has been coming there every Sunday for as long as I’ve worked there. he tells us stories about their life together and gives that sad, longing kind of smile when he’s done. True love man. You cant deny that good ol’ Don was truly in love with Mrs Margie.

This one freaked EVERYONE out. A teen who had been killed in a car accident (19 I believe) was being lowered into the grave when we all heard a thumping noise coming from inside the casket. You could of heard a pin drop it got quiet so fast. Of course the director Re-opens the casket. Turns out the family buried him in the jacket he was wearing in the accident (dont ask why, i dont know) and the thumping was a ringtone he had set for an alarm that day. They had been looking for his phone, and somehow the battery had lasted the whole damn time, but the phone was on silent. That is, until his scheduled alarm went off. The mother almost passed out, because she thought her son had come back to life or something. It was really heartbreaking to witness.

Not sure if its teens being stupid or if people actually perform rituals to try to bring people back or are doing some other crazy crap, but we clear off at least one grave a month.

So, again, on the other side of the cemetery is where most of the early graves are. And it floods a lot over there. Another grave started sinking and sloping to one side of the hill. Same case with this woman. We hoist the wood box up and the lid slides off the top. And to our horror, there are claw marks. And I mean tons of them, on the inside of the lid of the coffin. This poor lady was unintentionally buried alive around 1900, had obviously woken up buried alive, and tried like hell to get out, but she didnt. Another one I’ll never forget.

#A gravedigger/ groundskeeper shares his stories and experiences on the job #shared stories #pararnormal #ghost and hauntings #ghost and spirits

[murderousbitch]

trigger warning: light mentions of abuse & death.

         It was no secret that the life she had left behind had not been a life one would willingly return to. In fact she hadn’t returned to Boston for several reasons--fear of what she would return to, the pain and suffering, the memories that were more like nightmares--but after so long, she had to finally return. She tried to fight it, to make Giles send someone else, anyone else, to retrieve the one of many slayers scattered across the world. But she was closer and she knew the area better than anyone. There was no other option.

Returning to a place that held so many negative feelings and thoughts, it made the already cold air cooler, causing her lungs to seize with every breath she took. God she hated the cold, memories of when her mother forgot to pay the electric bill, the countless nights spent shivering under piles of blankets. But she had to shake those thoughts and focus on the task at hand so she could get the hell out of dodge before anything happened. There was far too many possibilities of what could happen, who she could run into, and of what she could end up doing. Needless to say, she was going to follow the leads she had of the girl, Rebecca Hicks, and hope that she found the other in no time.

The hotel she was set up in was one that she had passed so many times, wondering how it felt to be sleeping on a bed that wasn’t dirty, to have a mattress that didn’t come from someone’s alley. Her mom was cheap, never had any money to spend on the essentials so there were many items that should have never been used again, especially by a little kid. But that was one of many things her mother did or failed to do, things that lingered in the back of her mind as a silent reminder to do better for herself. Needless to say her first night back was restless and sleepless, leaving the slayer laying in bed staring at the ceiling, begging to wake up from whatever nightmare this was. But it wasn’t one and she knew that, of course she knew that, but the thought of knowing she had willingly came back...it weighed on her soul.

“Damn it, Faith! I done told you not to fuckin’ touch my things,” the woman belted out as she towered over the seven year old, finger wagging in her face before the cold harsh slap came.

Her ears ringed from the impact of the slap, her cheek stinging as a hand print formed. Tears welled up in her eyes as she looked up at her mother, still holding the small eye shadow case. “I’m sorry, momma...I just...I’m sorry,” she muttered, handing it back only to have it forcibly taken from her hands.

She must have fallen asleep, the memory dream waking her up violently. Heart pounding in her chest, tears rolling down her cheeks, her breath coming fast as she sat up in bed. “It wasn’t real...” she told herself, shaking her head as she wiped at her eyes, trying to slow her breathing. But it had been real, had happened a long time ago, even if it did feel like it had just happened. After that, Faith couldn’t sleep so she got up and took a shower before getting dressed and grabbing the case file she had on Rebecca. She would start off with the basics, start looking in the girls usual hang out spots, her home, places like that. Then she would reach out and tap into other sources.

Rebecca’s home had been a bust as was her school. However she wasn’t giving up hope on finding the girl, knowing she was somewhere in Boston. Thing about being a slayer, they shared a connection and could sense when others were around so it was just a matter of time before she found her. Though, admittedly, as she walked around the town she once called home, she had a feeling of dread, fearing that every corner she turned, she would see her mother. Logically she knew it would be a possibility of running into her mother, but she was praying that it didn’t happen. But with the longer she wandered around, checking out each lead she had, the more the area felt familiar until there she was.

The house had never been in the best of shape but it looked worse than it had the last time she saw it. Staring up at the window that had been her bedroom a lifetime ago, the slayer swallowed thickly as she stood in the yard. No one was living there, hadn’t for quite sometime, the NO TRESPASSING sign on the door coupled with the tell tale sign of emptiness was all she needed to know. A neighbor took notice of her standing there after what seemed like hours, the brunettes eyes finally tearing from the wreckage of her childhood to look to them.

“If you’re lookin’ for the owner, you’re ‘bout six or so years too late,” the man muttered as he crossed the joint yards, pausing when he got a good look of the woman. “Ah hell...you’re Donna’s kid ain’t ya?” he asked, head tilting as he looked through the bottom of his glasses.

There really was no denying it, Faith knew that and so she gave a nod. “Yeah, that’s me. Donna’s kid,” she mumbled, eyes falling to the ground as knots began to form in her stomach. Something was wrong, had been wrong, the way he said she was six years too late... “She’s dead ain’t she?” she asked, eyes briefly glancing to the man.

He nodded, rough and calloused hands rubbing together to keep whatever heat was there. “Heart attack six years ago...May of 2006...yeah that’s right. ‘M sorry you gotta find out this way, no one knew where you were or else I’m sure somebody woulda called...” and with that, he gently placed a hand on the woman’s shoulder before he began to walk back to his home.

Deep down she had always known her mother was gone, had succumbed to her addictions. But hearing it, knowing for certain? It left her feeling a mixture of emotions. So with that information, she gave the house one last look before she walked back to the rental car and drove off. It’d be the last time she’d see the house on 1490 SE Hyland St.

Almost as if her mind was in autopilot, Faith found herself sitting outside of the cemetery where her grandmother Etta was buried. She knew that’s where her mother would be, where most folks in this part of town were buried. Getting out of the car, she made the trek into the cemetery and found her way to her grandmothers grave. It had taken her a bit, getting turned around as she hadn’t been there since she was a child, but when she found the weathered plot and the newer one next to it, she knew she’d found them.

                                        Donna Renee Lehane                                        Mother. Daughter. Wife                                   13, April 1966 - 25, May 2006                                  May the angels guide you home.

Again, a mixture of emotions clawed as they worked through her system as she read the plot. Silent tears running down cheeks, not sure if they were out of sadness, anger, relief, or all of the above. But that’s all she could do or show, was stand there and cry as memories flooded her mind, none of which painted her mother in the best of light. And in truth, Faith didn’t have many good memories of her mother, all the bad ones out weighing the good and burying them. So after a half hour of standing in the cold, the sky growing dark, she tore herself from the graves and began to walk towards the entrance.

In the midst of wiping at her face, the slayer tripped over a root and caught herself before her face met marble. Cursing to no one but herself and the dead that slept, she pushed herself up only to be met with a name that she had done her best to never think of or speak.

                                        Ronald “Ronnie” Gallo                                          Son. Brother. Friend.                                    23, Dec. 1975 - 08, Sep. 2001                                     Heaven earned a new angel.

The guttural sound she made when she read the epitaph on Ronnie’s gravestone sounded inhuman to her own ears. However it was the only reaction she ever had when she thought of the other, Ronnie having been one of the people who traumatized her just as much as her own mother had. There were no good memories of the man nor feelings as tear filled eyes stared at the marker. She had spent so much time wishing she had killed him, the only person she truly wished she had killed, or wishing he was dead in general. And now knowing that her wish had came true, there was an emptiness in her that was quickly filled with rage.

Disrespecting the dead was frowned upon by many, but Ronnie Gallo deserved no such thing. Scrambling to her feet, the slayer looked around in a fit of rage until her eyes settled on a broken piece of stone before she moved back to the marker. She had nearly beaten him to death the day she was called as the next slayer, but that wasn’t enough, no, no he deserved more. So with the strength she used to take back her freedom, she smashed and busted the grave marker, a scream twisted into a growl leaving her as she demolished and made sure no one knew who laid there six feet under the ground.

It’s unsure how much time passed between destroying the grave, getting in the car, and mindlessly driving to the furthest bar. But when she poured herself onto a stool at the bar, Faith truly wished she had pawned the job off onto one of the others. Because her biggest fear had came to light even if two monsters from her past were now dead, it didn’t matter. She’d faced them and now had to quell the memories out of fear of if she didn’t, she would spiral out. So as she sat there, she drank every beer that was placed in front of her before she switched to something harder, not even noticing that the bartender wasn’t exactly human. Even if she had, she wouldn’t have cared because nothing mattered in that moment. Not him, not Rebecca, not herself, nor the monsters that had chased her for years.

However in a moment of clarity, dark eyes finally rested on the face of the man who hadn’t questioned her and provided the drinks. He had a charming face, rugged, looked like he had seen some shit in his life as well. She would later find out what his name was, Deeks, and he would soon aid in helping her reground herself and get back on track with her whole reason of being there. But for that first night, Deeks just kept her company and kept an eye on her while she indulged herself and prayed her mind to be quiet.

However, Faith should have known that her mind would never be quiet. Not for long.

#( filling in the blank pages | drabble ) #( home sweet home | drabble 01 ) #traqictales

[aslwritings]

ACE + SABO + LUFFY // the day he finally introduced them to his mom // 1,5k words

“I really don't know how to- hmm…” Luffy put his fingers between his nose bridge, thinking a little too hard before sitting down on the floor, legs crossed, and smiling forward. “Okay. Hello, Roge!”

“It's Rogue!” Sabo gave a small kick on his brother's leg.

“Oh! Right! Hello, Rogue-san!!” He smiled a little wider, trying to make up for his mistake.

Ace quietly smiled to himself. Luffy always called people by nicknames and never cared about messing up with their names, but this wasn't anyone else. The two older brothers now looked at each other, nodding and quickly recognizing each other's expressions, maybe Luffy did understand that this was important to him, after all.

It's June 10 and Ace doesn't talk much about it, mainly because he does try to visits his mother's grave monthly, so it's not unusual — it's unusual bringing his brothers, though. Sabo understands it quickly, seems like Luffy did too and it's not a surprise for Ace. He may have downplayed when he randomly called them to go with him, but they knew each other way too much to let that slip away.

He joke around all way through the cemetery and tease both of his brothers a lot like he normally does, but Ace really can't hide the fact he's bit more excited about today. It's not an easy day, never have been, but something about having both of them with him today made Ace feel different. He tried not to show but it was clear when he couldn't stop shifting his gaze between his brother and back to his hand.

Sabo chuckled quietly before sitting next to Luffy, in front of Rogue's tombstone, leaving Ace alone being the only one standing. He looked up one more time before putting his hands on Luffy's back, making him bow down with him before finally saying “Sorry for disturbing you on your birthday, you probably don't want to be bothered by some random disrespectful kid.”

“Hey, I wasn't-” Luffy stopped talking and just sighed. “It wasn't my intention...” he muttered that last sentence, making Sabo chuckle one more time, his hand on his knee now trying to comfort him before continuing.

“It wasn't! Luffy is a great boy, if you are wondering. So I wouldn't worry much about it,” Sabo looked up to Ace, smirking. “Your son's influence on the other hand-”

“OKAY! That is it.” Ace laughed bit too loud, pushing Sabo and Luffy way, which made both of them fall backwards. “My turn.”

Sabo and Luffy got up and the older one quickly made some excuse about looking around on the garden in the front of the building to give Ace some privacy. He dragged Luffy by his hand who reluctantly agreed, asking Sabo why he did that when they both alone again.

Ace finally sat down, leaning forward a bit and resting his chin on his arms, now holding out on the tombstone, bit closer than what he was used to, and then “Hi, mom.” quietly. He needed a deep breath to continue. “It's been a while, right? More than a month this time, sorry. It's not the best excuse but these guys, they make my life busier. You know, sometimes I think that now I truly understand what being a mom means — I wish I could be as good as you though...”

He took off his hat, putting it behind his back and closing his eyes now. He chuckled a little, thinking what to say next. “It's good, you know, mom…” He continued. “since all this happened, since you left, they've been my rock. Please don't tell them I said that, but they really keep me grounded like no other, and that's good, right?” He started rubbing his eyes, trying to hide how close he was to crying even though it was perceptible by his sentimental tone, still, he succeeded to kept his eyes dry.

He was thinking again, thinking too much and no matter how much he told this to anyone else already, it seems like it wasn't even enough. Just because Sabo and Luffy's influence in his life was so positively strong that he couldn't hide it. Ace hopped she could forgive him a little, but he needed to talk about them one more time, bit more sincerely this time.

“Sabo is extremely smart and caring. He ran away from home, you know? Don't worry, he has a good reason and I'm sure you would agree with me. He's more free now, still a bit of a pain in the ass but the more diplomatic between us three. Probably a better older brother, too…” He shake his head, trying not to think too much about it again. “About luffy, he's... a lot like dad. Daydreaming all the time, which gets him in so much trouble but for some reason he always manage to get out of it and — actually, it's okay if he doesn't. Sabo and I are here for him.”

Ace stopped a little before continuing, chuckling when he noticed something, putting both hands on his face now. “Actually, now that I mentioned it out loud, I just noticed how much Sabo reminds me of you. It's — I'm really lucky to have them both.” He finally took his hands off his eyes, not being able to hold the tears anymore but still smiling. “If you have any doing in how we found each other, because I think you do, I really have to tell you — thank you. I can't imagine my life without those idiots.”

Ace heard quickly footsteps coming closer to him and stand up even faster, trying to wipe the tears off so Luffy, who was running towards him, wouldn't notice. It was too late though and he noticed it when his brother jumped on his back, stretching out his head to look at Ace. “Ace? Are you okay?”

The taller boy hold Luffy's leg now, preventing him from falling down while Sabo just eyed the scene, not buying any of Ace's fake acting. “Yeah! There's something on my eyes.” he chuckled and leaned down a bit towards the tombstone, Luffy still hugging him like a koala. “Anyway, happy birthday, mom! Thank you, for everything. I'll come back sooner next time.” he smiled a bit, shaking his shoulders to catch his brother's attention. “Say bye, Luffy!”

“Bye bye, Ace's mom!!” He started waving when all three started walking again, Sabo next to both laughing when Ace's took a deep breath, now looking up to his little brother before speaking.

“Is it too hard to remember her name?”

“I got really nervous, okay?”

“Why?”

“I don't know, ghosts make me nervous.” Luffy told him, shrugging.

“OH THAT IS IT.” Ace leaned forward and started jumping, trying to make Luffy fall from his back. His brother's grip was too strong though, so when he started shaking, he only got Luffy's holding around his neck even tighter, he didn't tried for too long before Sabo hold him still again.

“Ok, you both, calm down!” He was laughing and Ace huffed. All three exited the cemetery and started walking towards their car, Sabo saw his younger brother's confused face and sighed. “You know, ghost really isn't a good word to use in that case.”

“It isn't?” Luffy asked, making both of them chuckle.

“Not really. When someone passes away, usually there are better ways to talk about them, specially if they meant a lot to you. In that case-”

“Oh God! I'm hungry, can we get food on our way home?”

“He... isn't even listening...” Sabo sighed, defeated, while Luffy looked at him more confused now. Ace started laughing non stop and stretched out his hand to put it on his brother's shoulder, still carrying Luffy on his own.

“It's okay, man.” He smiled to Sabo. “You know he listened enough.”

“Lunch now, right?” Luffy asked, completely ignoring what happened right in front of him.

“Yeah yeah…” Ace breathed out.

Luffy was a bit heavier than what he was used to, and he started moving around bit too much for him to be easy to carry. Instead of dropping him out, Ace put his arms on Luffy's back, holding him closer now. Luffy stopped moving, resting his chin the top of his brother's head before poking his shoulder to call him.

“By the way, can I come here next time too?”

Ace looked at him bit shocked, not holding back the surprised tone of his voice when he asked. “You want to?”

“yeah, she seems nice!”

Luffy was too excited about their lunch to notice but Sabo saw the way Ace's grip on his brother tightened up a bit more. His head cocked to the side, still looking forward and holding back his own smile when he said “I'll think about it.”

“Okay!”

#opfanfiction #one piece #portgas d rouge #portgas d ace #sabo #monkey d. luffy #asl brothers #asl #mine