#pockett monsters au

[potatochip-oc-dump]

could you imagine.... chip but pokemon trainer... life would b so beautiful

[artificialqueens]

Death becomes her (Sashea) ~ Hobnob

A/N: Hey so yeah I’m in Canada at the moment and its ok. Im by a lake so thats cool because in England if you went in a lake you’d die. The only thing is the graveyards over here are shit. Like, really bad. Its about 8 pieces of stone with names slapped on them. Thats it. The graveyards in England are gr8 they’re all fancy with big ol chapels and local dog-walkers its rite good. Theres one right outside our tesco extra so you can have a fag and a discount grab bag of monster munch

I suppose what I’m saying is i miss England but only mostly graveyards so heres a sashea grave digger au.

A crisp Sunday morning. A group of twelve people stood around a ditch, 6ft deep.

Shea stood beside it, a neatly piled heap of dirt to the left of her. She gripped the handle of her shovel and allowed a shiver to wash over her. Each drawn out breath would hang in the air as everyone clung to their thick coats, toes and fingertips frozen numb.

The grass beneath her was speckled with last nights downpour, buttercups sprouting sporadically in every crevice of the yard. Each grave was maintained regularly on weekends, but this didn’t stop lichens spreading across the surface of the stone, creating spools of rusted orange and brown.

This wasn’t uncommon for Shea, she’d dug graves for countless amounts of the deceased. What was unusual is the fact she stuck around for the vicars sermon. Shea was paying her respects to a lost friend, who was in the coffin not a metre away.

Sasha velour, born 1987 died at the age of 30.

The funeral was going pretty much as expected, nothing more nothing less. It was all extremely respectful; but Shea knew Sahsa would be rolling in her grave. She was so full of colour, energy and life. To have all her friends stood around a ditch holding back tears would of caused her such pain.

She would of wanted her body to be stuffed with the feathers of a dove then covered in paint or something outrageously artsy like that.

The church bells chimed the tune of ‘Westminster Quarters.’ The schoolchildren playing football in the street peeled off one by one as they were called in for lunch, their knees covered in bruises and scrapes.

The ringing ceased and there was only silence; even the occasional cars making their run to town seemed to stop completely.

The vicar brushed some lint off her robe and cleared her throat. She was clad head to toe in black apart from her clerical collar which shone white in contrast. Vicar Brown was well known amongst the townsfolk. She knew almost everything there was to know about the town and its residents. Any social event, any formal, and she’s be there with her signature tray of rice krispie cakes and a grin.

Vicar Brown was dedicated to her work no doubt. Her knowledge helped when it came to writing eulogies and giving the dead a respectful burial. There were no secrets in this town.

Part of Shea found that unsettling.

The service began and as usual, Farrah was the first to burst out into tears. Valentina gave her shoulder a small squeeze, but mostly in an attempt to shut her up.

The standard funeral ensued. Tears, boredom, last words, goodbyes. Funerals are painful, regardless of if you knew the deceased. Everyone bowed their head as Peppermint tossed a rose on the casket.

“We now commit her body to the ground; earth to earth, ashes to ashes, dust to dust: in the sure and certain hope of the resurrection to eternal life…”

Farrah began to cry again.

The casket was lowered and the sky was spitting. Everyone was eager to pop into a local café and stave off the cold with coffee, but for Shea the hardest part was just beginning. She still had to fill in the entirety of the grave.

Some mumbled some personal goodbyes to the lowered coffin, some put on a brave face and left with no words. Shea sighed and gripped at her shovel again as everything seemed to go back to normal almost instantaneously.

“You okay girl?”

Shea jolted at the voice. She felt a hand on her shoulder and spun around. Trinity Taylor was stood directly ahead of her with a sympathetic smile. They had been very close at one point.

“Jesus Christ Trinity you scared me for a moment” Shea strained, balling a fist into the fabric of her coat. She wasn’t dressed in the most funeral-ish attire but she had dirty work to do. “Im ok i just…me and sasha were speaking just the other day-”

“I know right?” Trinity cut in. “She seemed fine! I’d be more sad if i wasn’t so shocked.”

They both stood in silence for a moment. Shea turned her attention to the coffin as the rain began to bead up on the varnished wooden surface. She reached for the shovel again and frowned at Trinity.

“They wouldn’t tell me how it happened…all i got was one phone call telling me my best friend was dead and when the funeral was.” Shea said, beginning to fill in the ditch.

“Well thats what i was going to ask you, how it happened, you really don’t know?” Trinity asked in confusion everyone had been in the dark about Sasha’s death, even her closest friends.

Shea was hoping to get the phone call about Sasha. How it happened, where it happened, why it happened. Shea couldn’t help feeling information was being withheld from her for a reason. She felt sick.

“You don’t need to stick around girl, i got it covered” Shea said mustering the most sincere grin she could. “I’ll call you if they tell me anything else.”

“Not if, when. I’ll get to the bottom of this myself if i have to.”

Shea nodded and gave Trinity a tight hug. She admired her optimism in such a bleak scenario, but still, she just didn’t feel right.

“Stay strong Shea.”

And with that, Trinity was gone. Sasha’s closest friends had paid their respects and were probably eating a cheese and onion pastie in Greggs by now. She carried on shovelling the dirt over the woman she had spoken to just 3 days ago, playing every possible scenario in her head, over and over.

The heap of soil got smaller as the grave got fuller. The coffin was no longer visible, nor the rose placed on top of it. Sasha would’ve loved the symbolism of that. The situation was setting in and Shea’s breathing was becoming erratic.

She couldn’t finish burying the coffin, she just couldn’t. Shea dropped the shovel in the grass and stood over the half filled grave, her eyes brimming with tears. The rain wasn’t letting up as she crossed her arms in an attempt to keep any kind of warmth.

in the sure and certain hope of the resurrection to eternal life

Shea needed to get inside. She couldn’t carry on.

Her attention turned to the church. Its stained glass glowed a fuzzy tinted red from the candlelight inside. Shea stepped in the archway and felt her breathing return to normal. She shut her eyes as she felt the wooden door behind her slammed closed. The steady beat of raindrops pounded against the windows.

“Done already?”

For the second time that day Shea jumped. She scrambled against the doorframe clasping at her heart. It was the vicar, clutching a small bible, possibly preparing upcoming services for the more religious townsfolk. Shea didn’t fall under that category. She gathered herself before speaking.

“Ah-just taking a small break vicar” Shea admitted, her eyes red tears that had been held back. “Im sorry it was cold i just wanted to-”

“Oh please, call me Tammie,” Vicar brown began, shaking her head. “You were good friends with Sasha, no?”

Shea tried to speak, but her whole mouth felt like it was shut together, all she could do was nod.

“It cant be easy having to bury one of your loved ones, its hard enough saying goodbye…” Tammie sighed, putting down her bible and casting a distant glare over to the other side of the church. “Have they told you how she passed?”

She paused for a moment and looked to the floor, trying to muster coherent words. “They-they just said there had been an accident.”

Tammie gave a sympathetic look and patted Shea on the shoulder. She was being patronised. Shea shrugged off the vicars touch and furrowed her brow. The entirety of Tammie’s eulogy seemed almost impersonal, and the last thing she needed was the pity of others.

Nobody knew Sasha velour like she did.

Vicar brown continued. “Thats a shame, isn’t it? Im sure they’ll find out more soon, hm? Chin up duck.” She said with a grin. Tammie picked up her pockett sized bible and flicked to a page almost systematically. “Whoever is patient has great understanding, but one who is quick-tempered displays folly.”

Shea let out an internal sigh. She knew it wasn’t her god given right to know everything at all times, but when it came to the death of her best friend a bit of information was the least she deserved.

“i was actually thinking of doing some sleuthing?” Shea admitted. She had found some confidence, as evident in her tone of voice. “maybe ask a few of her family membe-”

“Shea” Tammie cut her off. Her tone was less cheery than before, more intense. “That verse is one i hold very dearly to my heart. Its never steered me wrong before.” She said, tapping her head.

“I’ll…keep that in mind vicar.”

“Please, Tammie.”

“I’ll keep that in mind Tammie.” Shea corrected herself. She had to finish her work and get out of there as soon as possible. Tammie was a nut-case, and Shea was hardly in the mood to be recited christian teachings. “Don’t let me keep you, ill go back to my work.”

Tammie nodded, her face easing up a little, “See you around miss Coulée.” she spun on her heel and made her way back into the confides of the church. The flickering of candlelight casted a silhouette as she left Shea’s line of vision.

Shea couldn’t leave the church quick enough. The rain was hardly a concern at this point. She grabbed the handle of the shovel and inspected her work. Still around half way to go…shit.

“Need some help?”

Shea spun around! Crikey! The ghost of Sasha velour!

“Sup cunt im back.” She stood there in her ghostly glory.

“Sasha you dick pig give us a hug!” Shea said happily.

“Cant, im a ghost.” Sasha shrugged, covering herself in honey mustard and trail mix as an art statement about famine.

Shea was over the moon, this was like, well unexpected. She threw the shovel through the stained glass window and did the electric slide.

“Want to go get a pint?” Sahsa asked, checking her casio sports watch.

“Yah, but how did you die?” Shea said. She had to know the entire story had been building up to this.

“Global warming.” Sasha retorted, breaking momentarily to cough up a bunch of roses.

“Fuck me, i could’ve sworn it was Tammie brown.”

Sasha shooketh her egg head. “Have you even seen scooby doo? Its never the person you expect ya uncultured swine.”

“Have you come to haunt me?” Shea said spitting out her gum into sasha’s grave.

Sasha shrugged. “Good story writing is a construct, tear it apart.”

Shea nodded. That all wrapped up very nicely. Niiiice big ol bow slapped on top. Very conclusive.

“Lets go get you that pint then you cheeky slag.”

And with that they went down to the local tappie for some larger. Not long after they got married in wales at a Dixy Chicken after going on a 3 week bender.

Happy Halloween!

A/N: Bit shit, mediocre, liberal stuff Class is a construct, eat my muff Horrible shit and tolerable shit Cameron made england for the brits This maccies, this is fine Don’t need a nando’s, roadmen in lines For a revolution with naff intentions Brexit was called to fuck generations Yeah man, lend us a quid Student loans and atm im skint :( I’m in so much pain, NHS is whack Theres a lot of politicians, but they all know jack Chavs, roadmen, meddle in gangs Blocked off the alley, can’t get to my nan’s Bar’s, pubs, Underaged drinking England is shit, and LONG LIVE THE KING