#coroner
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I got bit by a rattlesnake. My friend called 911. While we were waiting for the ambulance, a coroner showed up. He parked at a distance, got out of the van, and leaned against it, watching me to see if he was gonna be needed.
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Hear me out- Rosekiller where Barty's dad wants him to continue the family tradition as law enforcement. But Barty refuses to be a cop, let alone a detective, so as a last ditch his dad pulls some strings and get him an internship with the towns coroner/mortcian.
(I know those are two VERY different professions, but imagine this is small town vibes, they cant afford to have two seperate offices)
Only problem is the funeral home is owned by a pair of twins that are only mentioned in gossiping whispers in the town. The Rosiers.
Pandora whose a bit strange, wears bone jewelry, and insists on salting the windows regularly. But she's not bad- its her brother thats the problem.
Evan who is dead silent and moves like a ghost, eyes vacant of light and can make hairs stand on end by just a glance. It doesn't help the hot boy will randomly enter a room covered in blood, speak in old enlgish threats, and gets a bit too excited about doing autopsy reports.
TLDR: Barty has never been more thankful for his dads bullshit and its getting increasingly more tempting to ask Evan if he wants a live patient
EDIT- This idea wouldnt leave me alone so I started it for anyone interested
#rosekiller#but even more unhinged#mortician#coroner#medical au#like think about it#I had this family in my town#but they were actually rlly chill#evan rosier#pandora and evan#pandora rosier#pandora and barty#evan and barty#evan and pandora#barty crouch junior#barty crouch jr#evan x barty#barty crouch jr x evan rosier#barty x evan
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#coroner#skeletons#halloween aesthetic#coroner's car#photo#random#halloween#van#skulls#memento mori#dead#death
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Maura Isles Aesthetic
#maura isles#doctor#medicine#coroner#forensics#tortoise#fencing#cooked#laboratory#microscope#police#boston#boston massachusetts#boston police department#police department#jane rizzoli#jane x maura#rizzles#rizzoli and isles#tv series#tv shows#aesthetic#angela rizzoli#frankie rizzoli#rizzoli & isles#forensic pathology#irish#tv edits#tv aesthetic#city
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Hey, I really admire your work and the effort behind it! So, I was wondering... Do you know of any ifs with a MC who is a coroner, has a work related to forensics, or something like that?
Hi Anon,
There are a few MC working in the forensic field (or related).
Ripper's Plague by @ripperplague
Split The Body Asunder by @walnutwrites
If there are more out there, let us know and we'll add them to the list!
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Coroner - R.I.P.
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#1989#testament#practice what you preach#king diamond#conspiracy#sepultura#beneath the remains#coroner#no more color#thrash#thrash metal#metal#heavy metal#speed metal#thrasher#headbanger#metalhead#coffee#cd collection
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My WCW aka Woman Crush Wednesday actress Serinda Swan
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#WCW #WomanCrushWednesday #WCE #AJBWCW #SerindaSwan #Actress #CanadianActress #Inhumans #TronLegacy #Coroner #GracelandTv #TheBaytownOutlaws #BreakoutKings #RedemptionDay #Ballers #RevengeRide #Smallville #percyjacksonthelightningthief #Recoil
#wcw#woman crush wednesday#my wcw#ajbwcw#actress#wednesday#Serinda Swan#Canadian Actress#HBO Ballers#smallville#inhumans#coroner#redemption day#graceland tv#breakout kings#Recoil#tron legacy#percy jackon and the olympians#the veil
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Freakylinks - Live Fast, Die Young
Part 4
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CORONER
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The fingerprinting of a decomposed corpse sometimes requires the medical examiner to remove the dead guy's fingertips and slip them over her own gloved fingertips -- allowing her to take the prints.
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Coroner - No More Color 18/09/1989
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Coroner - Last Entertainment
#Coroner#No More Color#Last Entertainment#Release date:#September 18th#1989#Full-length#Genre:#Technical Thrash Metal#Themes:#Death#Dreamstates#Depression#Politics#Hate#Switzerland
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IF YOU LIKED TMA PLEASE LISTEN TO HOW I DIED IT IS SO GOOD!
I just started it today and I’ve already finished season 1. It’s not perfect by any means but it is good! If you like narrative podcasts, gore, true crime, or forensics this is for you. Also there are queer characters!
Basically, it’s about a forensic pathologist (which is essentially a coroner) who can speak to ghosts. So he is talking to the ghosts of the people he is operating on. Not to mention, something weird is happening in the town it takes place, Springfield…
PLEASE give it a shot! I need people to talk about it with
#how i died jon spacer#how I died#podcast#tma#the magnus archives#narrative podcast#horror#forensics#coroner#lgbtqplus#queer#bisexual characters#Jon spacer#ghosts#paranormal#true crime#apple podcasts#how i died podcast
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Stone cold
@awesome-bluehair-universe thank you for this delightful prompt. It was so damn fun to write!!!!
Prompts: Mafia AU - Coroner - Soulmates - Eönwë x Finarfin
Words: 1.5
Characters: Eönwë x Finarfin
Warnings: Graphic description of death, injury, etc
Eönwë shivered slightly. For someone who had grown up in an organisation that was callously called “The Mafia” by most people, he was surprisingly squeamish around dead people.
Nevertheless, he walked on bravely towards the double doors at the end of the gloomy corridor—Manwë had insisted he talk the local coroner out of looking too closely into the body that had been delivered to the morgue this morning.
Shaking his head, Eönwë thought to himself that it was outright reckless how much his boss still tried to cover for his brother. As far as crime and questionable morals went, their little family unit was certainly far from above-board and yet, Melkor still managed to break all the codes and rules they had set up.
And someone else always had to clean up after him. That someone, right now, was Eönwë.
He had an ace up his sleeve, of course; the local gangs were notoriously unstable and spent the whole blessed day shooting at each other. Surely, he could convince the coroner that the man who lay dead as a doornail on a metal slab was but another unfortunate victim of territorial rivalries.
Again, he shuddered at the idea of blaming Thingol for the cold-blooded murder of the poor boy.
Banging his broad hand against the frosted glass of the door, Eönwë waited patiently for an answer.
“Come in,” a melodious voice called.
Shit—this was not what he had imagined finding!
Eönwë froze as soon as he had stepped into the shockingly cold room. First of all, there was the cadaver of the latest victim of Melkor’s insanity. Word on the street was that one of his cronies had cloven the kid’s head with some kind of axe.
Why anyone would run around with such a conspicuous weapon was too much of a philosophical question for poor Eönwë to answer though—he simply—foolishly—hoped that the whole affair was as baffling to the coroner as it was to him.
Swallowing frantically, the young herald of a much greater and more threatening organism tried hard to keep his lunch inside his body.
“Hello,” he said in a choked voice. “I’ve come to inquire about the unfortunate accident.”
His words dried up as the sea-coloured eyes of the coroner settled on him coolly. This was the second problem: the coroner was startlingly handsome and, while a competent enforcer and a trusty herald, Eönwë was hopelessly clumsy in his dealings with people he deemed attractive.
“Accident?” The coroner cocked his head, golden locks spilling across his shoulder in a cascade of underground sunlight. “This young man has been brutally murdered.”
He pointed at the remnants of his skull without betraying any kind of emotion.
“Indeed,” Eönwë croaked nervously. “Yes, yes…” Remembering his duty, he slid a little closer to the stiff man whose unnervingly straight gaze drove flustered heat into his cheeks now. “Do you have any idea who might have done that?”
“A tall man with a heavy bladed hammer?” The answer smacked faintly of sarcasm; Eönwë struggled to school his face into a neutral expression—it would not do to betray Manwë by giving away his own feelings of guilt.
“If you have come to mourn, you can join the weeping ginger upstairs,” the coroner went on calmly. “He’s utterly hysterical and I am almost sure that he’s started shedding like a distressed cat. Or can I do something else for you?”
“I…” Eönwë’s mind went blank; he had expected an elderly person with slipping glasses and a hunched back and not a blindingly good-looking, discomfortingly efficient doctor who made his stomach somersault wildly. “Aren’t you horrified by this?” He flapped his hands at the corpse lying between them like a gruesome chaperone.
“No,” the man replied and took off his latex gloves with an arousing, sharp slapping noise. “Finarfin,” he introduced himself tersely. Before Eönwë could react, Finarfin went on in that dispassionate, well-bred tone. “Both my brothers have died ghastly deaths—one was found burned to a crisp and the other had been beaten to a literal pulp—so, I don’t think anything can shock me anymore.”
Pity welled up in Eönwë’s heart—threatening to drown out his better judgment—as he realised that he was in the company of someone who might have understood what his life had been like. Neither one of them had truly chosen their place and purpose in this world—their tasks had been handed to them, covered in blood and ashes, and they had risen to the challenge as well as they could.
What other choice did they have?
When their eyes met again, over the table and the dead boy, Eönwë felt something shift within his heart. Varda, his boss’ wife, always babbled about “soulmates” and, for the first time ever, Eönwë was inclined to have even the tiniest bit of faith in her confused and confusing beliefs.
She and Manwë were undeniably meant for one another—that, Eönwë did not question or deny. Imperious, haughty, and as ruthless with their enemies as they were gentle and caring to their friends, they were a power-couple if ever there had been one.
Whether or not Varda had been able to foresee their union through consulting tea leaves, the stars, and magic crystals though was an entirely different matter.
Nevertheless, Eönwë could not deny that he felt the unstoppable and irrepressible attraction emanating from that still figure before him; Finarfin struck him as smooth and clean, just another sterile tool made of marble and gold, and yet, there was anger and yearning bubbling just beneath the surface as well.
It surprised the inveterate criminal that he himself suddenly longed to be washed clean of his sins. Indeed, he wanted to stretch out on that cold table and have those elegant, white hands excise every evil deed and bad thought from his body.
Furthermore, he wanted to grab those frightening forceps and break open the shell of compressed and hardened grief Finarfin had wrapped around himself like a cocoon of misery.
“So, no ideas as to the man or the weapon?” he asked cautiously. There was more on the line for him now than just the safety of his people—and Melkor’s for that matter—as this had gotten very personal much too quickly.
Finarfin sighed. “Could have been anyone,” he said with a shrug. “Not as if we ever found the culprit around here. Might have been Gothmog, might have been Mablung, might have been his own brother for all we know.”
At the mention of Melkor’s terrible enforcer, Eönwë flinched which was thankfully interpreted as a disgusted or even fearful reaction rather than as a guilt-laden one.
“So, why does a handsome stranger like you come to the morgue unexpectedly? Did you know the boy?”
Eönwë shook his head hesitantly. “I was just curious, I guess,” he lied through his teeth. “I’d…rather not keep you from your work.”
He bit his lip; he had almost said “I shall leave you to it before it grows cold”, but the lad was stone-cold dead already and he did not want to imply that Finarfin was about to devour him, despite the strange, threateningly gleaming utensils arrayed in front of him.
“You’re welcome to come back any time you like,” Finarfin said in a level voice.
Eönwë thought that it had warmed up a little, but it might well have been that his own mind was simply playing tricks on him.
“Uh, yeah,” he stammered—he still didn’t dare looking down on the cadaver and the mere idea of willingly spending more time with dead people made his stomach churn in rebellion, but he did not refuse out of hand.
“We could also meet somewhere else,” Finarfin added in a now distinctly kinder voice. “If you’re not interested in the work. I feel a bizarre kind of kinship with you. Is that an odd thing to say?”
“Over the lifeless body of a deceased youngster? Maybe,” Eönwë chuckled; he decided then and there to trust Varda and her weird hocus-pocus and to go out on a limb. “But I feel the same, to be honest, and I’d be delighted to have a drink…someplace else…at some other time.”
Finarfin nodded encouragingly.
As Eönwë extricated a sleek, dark blue card from his coat pocket and set it down on a nearby table, he realised that Finarfin would probably guess what kind of people he ran with. His heart gave a painful lurch.
Stepping around the table, Finarfin picked up the card and gazed at it pensively for a few seconds.
“Just my luck, I guess,” he sighed and then visibly pulled himself together. “How does tomorrow at 7 in the pub across the street sound?”
@fellowshipofthefics Here is another one for May then :)
Lots of love from me
-> Masterlist
#og post#Fotfics#Fellowship of the fics#May Mashup#IDNMT writes#fanfiction#writing#tolkien writing#jrrt#Mafia AU#Soulmates#Coroner#Eönwë#Finarfin#Eönwë x Finarfin#rarepair#crackpair#Modern!AU
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Coroner - Tunnel of Pain
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