"Okay." Danny slowly laid the already cold body back onto the table, ready to slide back it into the refuge of cold storage. "Okay. Dead guy. Stay there."
The body didn't move.
"Fantastic. Now. Hang out while I pour the embalming fluid into the pump, alright? It should only be a minute."
And it usually did; working in a funeral home wasn't extremely glamorous, but it paid the bills, and Danny had already been used to the rhyme and rhythm of negotiating death with the public by the time he sent in his mortuary school application. It had been a transition that made sense. And in the end, the degree had only cost him a few extra years post-graduation and a little dig into student loans, and now Danny had a stable 12-8 job and health insurance valid in the state of new jersey.
Today, though, the pump had that decided enough was enough. With a bang and a boom, the pump spat out a cloud of smoke and clunked uncomfortably.
The dead body sat up.
Danny scrambled over to push it back down. "No. We talked about this. Dead people don't move. If you want to stay here and have me put you back together all the time, you have to stay put. Got it?"
Whatever the weird gold-eye corpses were on in Gotham, they at least listened to him on occasion. They weren't ghosts, per se— they never pinged on any of the ghost detection devices Mom and Dad had packed in his going-away-to-college bag— but they were, despite being occasionally animate, perfectly deceased.
Weird. Danny had never gotten used to it. Still, they came in droves, too eager to sit on the top of the basement stairwell and lurk in the corners and stare endlessly at them with their weird, avian eyes, and sometimes they heralded the arrival similarly weird-ass bodies that had lost their heads or their arms or their limbs through the more conventional channels.
"I'm losing too much thread to all y'all coming in all the time," Danny complained to the dead body, who, at the moment, was the only person present to blame. "Stop getting your limbs cut off. This stuff is expensive, you know. It's a specialty order."
The body didn't even have the courtesy to blink. Rude.
"At least let them bury you this time. Every time one of you darts off when my back's turned, my boss thinks I'm stealing corpses. My coworkers think I'm building my own Frankenstein or something."
The corpse neither verbalized nor blinked, but Danny hadn't expected it to; with a sigh, he rolled the corpse back into cold storage, locked its little door (not that locking it in had ever stopped it) and called it quits for the night.
It's not like anyone was paying him for the extra hours anyway.
8K notes
·
View notes
longtime dc fan and i think a lot of people are angry because alex is obviously one of the most culturally relevant instances of misogyny in media. that being said being more culturally relevant doesn’t mean it’s the worst instance of misogyny and i think bumble definitely experiences more profound misogyny in the way the actual content is presented, if that makes sense
I get you, and that's a charitable way of looking at it.
I think what's rustling my jimmies is that like, there was a couple of WC fans being mildly dismissive of Alex in that note minefield, after dozens of comments of "fuck you how could you let the fridge woman lose" and "Bumble didn't deserve to win ANY rounds" and "how could A CAT experience misogyny." But then WE get blamed for the toxicity because THEY were butthurt that the Funny Cat People have the 'audacity' to win something they feel entitled to.
Like, we've gotta be endlessly charitable as we get openly insulted because they're upset about Alex losing, a very well-known and culturally relevant character with a legacy so massive we have a whole term named after her. But condemnations of "She's just a cat, letting WC into this poll was a mistake, Bumble can't even be a victim of misogyny" only started coming around once I started talking about it.
as if it's OUR fault people got passive-aggressive or even OPENLY aggressive towards us, and that we're "just as bad" for retaliating
But like you said, it's not a "Most Culturally Relevant Misogyny" tournament, it's a "Canon Misogyny Victims" tournament. And you're not even supposed to give a shit that Bumble died. The fat, woman abuse victim is beaten to death by a dictator, and your takeaway is meant to be, "It's so sad that Clear Sky is being blamed for murdering her, now they're all preparing for self-defense against a homicidal maniac, oh nooo :("
And I think that DOES make her deserve the win here! Alex is a MARTYR. Everyone with a brain agrees what happens to her is bad. It happened in her canon because it was bad. We talk about her and keep her memory alive. Bumble gets dismissed entirely out of hand because she's "just a cat in a kid's book" as if that doesn't make it worse, and as if the kid's book didn't treat a domestic abuse survivor like a moron for even asking for help.
Anyway, just to reiterate, I love DC fans. It's not all of you guys. Alex was done dirty and deserves justice-- and it's even kind of a shame that all she became is "The Fridge Woman." I haven't even heard people talk about how she was a wary, responsible person who was still ready to rock with Kyle's new weird glowstick powers, or that she was a journalist, or that she just got brought back in another edition as a Green Lantern only to be revealed as an illusion and re-absorbed back into Kyle's mind. Nope. Even her fans just remember her as The Fridge Woman.
66 notes
·
View notes
My english lyrics for Triage woo! (They're written out under the cut, I just wanted to share my lil chart lol)
Though I'm too indecisive to officially label this as my favorite song, it's had the strongest emotional impact on me by far. It holds a special place in my heart, I definitely wanted to write lyrics for it first! I'll leave all my rambling process commentary in the tags, but I was so happy with how it came out!!
All of those cards of promise thrown down carelessly,
This must be retribution for all I've taken endlessly.
If that were the case, it should have been fate for me to die.
That's the truth, given my crime, so why--?
No, I can't take it, to this cruel joke I'll submit. You
don't know, you can't know, but I'm ready to admit:
Killing for them, extracting for them, won't change the fact they're dead.
I need someone to tag me as RED.
It makes me sick (sick), it's too unpleasant. Sick (sick)
Is this punishment? What do you mean I'm INNOCENT?
I see, the world is cruel and leaves you on your own.
(I can't die) to atone. (I can't love) alone.
I can't be saved (saved), you've nothing to give. Saved (saved)
But what if I lived? Why else would you choose to forgive?
I see, there's lives to save so let's be sensible.
Right now, you need me, (I can be) indispensable.
Tilt to and fro, I know the scales should land on GUILTY for me.
Tilt fro and to, it's INNOCENT that they choose.
They cry (x4) out in pain, I can hear them. There's no one else, to guard their health,
My mission is offering help.
All of those cards of promise thrown down carelessly,
This must be retribution for all I've taken endlessly.
So if that's the case, then it must be fate to make amends,
Extract that fang before we meet the end.
It makes me sick (sick), it's too unpleasant. Sick (sick)
Is this punishment? What do you mean I'm INNOCENT?
I see, the world is cruel, but what I've realized is
(Now I want) to be INNOCENT. (Now I want) to live.
It makes me sick (sick), This wasn't my plan, hostages at my command.
Their future resting in my hands
I see, there's lives to save so let's be sensible.
Right now, please save me, (I will be) indispensable.
Maybe this was meant to be -- oh -- or maybe neither of us can know
There's lives to save so let's be sensible.
Right now, please save me, (I will be) indispensable.
---
I mentioned earlier that I always get annoyed with myself when people post translyrics and I can't figure out the rhythm they were going for, so here's a recording of me singing, but I'm bad at it! It's just for fun! Like a rough draft for music! Because the only thing worse than people hearing my voice is people thinking I can't count syllables!
63 notes
·
View notes
Little Post 15x18 Thing I Wrote
On a table etched with the names of loved ones lost, Sam finds Dean passed out, surrounded by beer bottles and a closed laptop. If there was one thing Sam knew for certain, it was that Dean would drink himself away first, save the world second.
“Jesus Dean, you're a mess,” Sam says shaking Dean awake and throwing away bottles “I have a lead on what to do about Chuck”
“Forget it” Dean murmurs as he awakes, eyes swollen and burned by blue light and tears
Sam pauses in shock and looks at Dean, he can't place it but whatever is going on with him feels different than their usual dread and defeat
“Forget it? Are you insane?” He watches as Dean gets up and walks away, putting his hand to his eyes, “I get this is hard but we don't have time for one of your week-long binges” Sam spits out
Dean, back to Sam, replies “I said forget it Sam, this isn't a binge. We lost, just take it and move on”
“Move on? the entire world is ending Dean get your head out of your ass”
Dean turns to face Sam, eyes wet and face red with rage “It already did Sam” he yells “It ended 30 years ago when Chuck killed Mom and started all of this, it ended when he killed Jess to bring you back into this hellhole and he ended it again when he took Cas, so please tell me what the fuck you are still fighting for?” Dean spits out, chest heaving and body tense
Sam sees Dean's rage and returns it without missing a beat “I'm fighting for us. I'm fighting for everything we lost, all those people that died because of us, I'm fighting for Cas and Mom and Jack and Eillen, what the fuck are you doing?
“Don't be an idiot Sam, none of that is real” Dean admits from a defeated come-down of rage. Rage turning to pain in seconds “All of it, everything we are and all the people we have loved are because of Chuck”
“Not Cas” Sam whispers into the silent room
Dean tenses at the name, turning away from his brother again
“He was real. You two were real”
Dean puts his hands to his head, trying to breathe in whatever alcohol he has left in his system so he doesn't have to think about this all again
“You owe it to him to fight, he saved you once, now it’s your turn”
Dammit, if only Dean knew how, he would charge into the empty and fix this
“What did he tell you when he first saved you? Good things do happen? Well than prove him right” Sam shouts, moving himself closer to Dean “What the fuck are you so afraid of?”
“Losing dammit” Dean screams out kicking the table leg
Sam stumbles back
“You say all of this and it sounds great but than what? We beat god? Not fucking likely”
Deans words sound like anger but Sam knows his brother well enough to know they come from something much darker “We have to try or else everything we did, everything Cas did, was for nothing”
“Don’t” Dean demands, pointing his fingers at Sam, like a threat
Sam doesn't back down, there's only one way to fix this and its both of them beating Chuck “You know it’s true dean, he saved you cause he knew you could stop chuck”
Sam's words lose their venom, and instead return to a little brother pleading to be heard
“He saved me cause he loves me” Dean confesses like it's the hardest secret he has ever kept
Sam watches Dean go from angry to sad to angry to broken all in the matter of seconds “what?”
Dean exhales like a suicide note “He loved me. and i fucked up, so there’s no fight anymore Sam. we lost”
“Losing Cas can’t be the end Dean” Sam says reaching for his brother
“Well it is. We lost our big win, the ace in our sleeves whatever you wanna call it, and know we have no shot beating chuck, so just drop it” Dean says grabbing the closest bottle and walking off into the bunker.
Followed only by the shadow of a grinning God
14 notes
·
View notes