![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
beer_good_foamyI think it's safe to say that this is the crackiest pairing I've ever written. This was written for ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
keyblade277, whose post at ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
fanficrants is partly responsible for my muse going completely insane. I'm just going to post this before I think better of it.
Title: Stop Touching My Magic Bone!
Author: Beer Good (beer_good_foamy)
Rating: R
Fandom: Discworld/He-Man
Pairing: Skeletor/Death
Word count: 600 or so
When Susan woke up in the middle of the night, she wasn't at first quite sure of where she was. Then she remembered that she was at her grandfather's house in Death's Domain; Death was off to the Conference of Bones, and since Albert was on vacation, she had promised to stay here to feed Binky and clean out the Death of Rats' cage.
What had woken her up was the sound of someone else in the house. She was worried at first, but then sensed the presence of Death and relaxed; the conference must have ended early. Susan was starting to drift off to sleep again, when suddenly she became aware of something... odd. There were noises coming from her grandfather's bedroom, little thumps and squeaks as if he kept bumping into something, giggling and... giggling? Death doesn't giggle. And what was that... rattle? It sounded like someone was playing a badly tuned marimba. And the noise continued, becoming louder and more rhytmical, accompanied by... grunts, and gasps, and... wait a minute, Death doesn't usually gasp either. This was very -
That's as far as she got before she heard a strained, high-pitched cry.
"Yes! Yes! Taste the evilness of my evil bone! Take it! TAKE... UuuuuHHH!"
There was a loud groan, a surprised yelp, and then a violent crashing noise that sounded like a crate full of pipes being emptied. For a few minutes, everything was silent before she heard her grandfather's unusually hesitant voice.
UM... SUSAN? ARE YOU AWAKE?
No sense pretending after that racket. "Yes, Grandfather."
COULD YOU COME IN HERE?
She put on a robe, walked across the hall, opened the door... and stood, blinking, trying to make sense of what she saw. Susan had seen her grandfather naked (by mistake) once or twice before, but this was new. There was a blue muscle suit lying next to his discarded black robe and scythe, and lying on top of her grandfather in bed was another skeleton, its skull fixed in a permanent vicious grin made even more unsettling by its obvious post-orgasmic glow. But that wasn't even the beginning of the problem; the apparent enthusiasm of their coupling had caused them both to come... undone. Bones were scattered all over the room in completely random order, and the lack of arms and legs was making it almost impossible for the two skeletons to break apart.
Death cleared his throat. SUSAN, SKELETOR... SKELETOR, SUSAN.
Susan closed her eyes, pinched the bridge of her nose and shook her head... did all the things one does when trying to clear one's head of unwanted and possibly imagined visions, but when she opened her eyes nothing had changed. So, not a dream. She sighed. "I take it the Conference of Bones was... good?"
"It wasn't good!" Skeletor protested. "It was eeeevil!"
Death ignored him and kept talking to Susan. IT WOULD APPEAR THAT WE ARE STUCK TOGETHER. TWO OF SKELETOR'S RIBS HAVE HOOKED AROUND MY SPINE, AND -
"How much marrow did you drink tonight, Grandfather?"
"Oh, he's been drinking marrow, alright!" Skeletor laughed maniacally. "He's drunk the evil marrow of Skeletor! And when I say marrow, I mean my -"
"Thank you, no need to elaborate. OK, let's see if we can sort this mess out." Susan picked a bone at random from the pile. "Whose tibia is this?"
"That is the tibia of Skeletor!"
NO IT'S NOT. BOTH OF YOURS ARE OVER THERE, UNDER THE CHAIR. WHY WOULD YOU NEED THREE TIBIAE?
Skeletor shrugged. "Well, I am evil... I thought that was what you liked about me?"
Susan handed the bone to her grandfather and tried not to listen to the skeletons' pillow talk as she went around the room. This was going to be a long night, and she hated playing pick-up sticks.
keyblade277, whose post at fanficrants is partly responsible for my muse going completely insane. I'm just going to post this before I think better of it. Title: Stop Touching My Magic Bone!
Author: Beer Good (
beer_good_foamy)Rating: R
Fandom: Discworld/He-Man
Pairing: Skeletor/Death
Word count: 600 or so
When Susan woke up in the middle of the night, she wasn't at first quite sure of where she was. Then she remembered that she was at her grandfather's house in Death's Domain; Death was off to the Conference of Bones, and since Albert was on vacation, she had promised to stay here to feed Binky and clean out the Death of Rats' cage.
What had woken her up was the sound of someone else in the house. She was worried at first, but then sensed the presence of Death and relaxed; the conference must have ended early. Susan was starting to drift off to sleep again, when suddenly she became aware of something... odd. There were noises coming from her grandfather's bedroom, little thumps and squeaks as if he kept bumping into something, giggling and... giggling? Death doesn't giggle. And what was that... rattle? It sounded like someone was playing a badly tuned marimba. And the noise continued, becoming louder and more rhytmical, accompanied by... grunts, and gasps, and... wait a minute, Death doesn't usually gasp either. This was very -
That's as far as she got before she heard a strained, high-pitched cry.
"Yes! Yes! Taste the evilness of my evil bone! Take it! TAKE... UuuuuHHH!"
There was a loud groan, a surprised yelp, and then a violent crashing noise that sounded like a crate full of pipes being emptied. For a few minutes, everything was silent before she heard her grandfather's unusually hesitant voice.
UM... SUSAN? ARE YOU AWAKE?
No sense pretending after that racket. "Yes, Grandfather."
COULD YOU COME IN HERE?
She put on a robe, walked across the hall, opened the door... and stood, blinking, trying to make sense of what she saw. Susan had seen her grandfather naked (by mistake) once or twice before, but this was new. There was a blue muscle suit lying next to his discarded black robe and scythe, and lying on top of her grandfather in bed was another skeleton, its skull fixed in a permanent vicious grin made even more unsettling by its obvious post-orgasmic glow. But that wasn't even the beginning of the problem; the apparent enthusiasm of their coupling had caused them both to come... undone. Bones were scattered all over the room in completely random order, and the lack of arms and legs was making it almost impossible for the two skeletons to break apart.
Death cleared his throat. SUSAN, SKELETOR... SKELETOR, SUSAN.
Susan closed her eyes, pinched the bridge of her nose and shook her head... did all the things one does when trying to clear one's head of unwanted and possibly imagined visions, but when she opened her eyes nothing had changed. So, not a dream. She sighed. "I take it the Conference of Bones was... good?"
"It wasn't good!" Skeletor protested. "It was eeeevil!"
Death ignored him and kept talking to Susan. IT WOULD APPEAR THAT WE ARE STUCK TOGETHER. TWO OF SKELETOR'S RIBS HAVE HOOKED AROUND MY SPINE, AND -
"How much marrow did you drink tonight, Grandfather?"
"Oh, he's been drinking marrow, alright!" Skeletor laughed maniacally. "He's drunk the evil marrow of Skeletor! And when I say marrow, I mean my -"
"Thank you, no need to elaborate. OK, let's see if we can sort this mess out." Susan picked a bone at random from the pile. "Whose tibia is this?"
"That is the tibia of Skeletor!"
NO IT'S NOT. BOTH OF YOURS ARE OVER THERE, UNDER THE CHAIR. WHY WOULD YOU NEED THREE TIBIAE?
Skeletor shrugged. "Well, I am evil... I thought that was what you liked about me?"
Susan handed the bone to her grandfather and tried not to listen to the skeletons' pillow talk as she went around the room. This was going to be a long night, and she hated playing pick-up sticks.
