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NextEstablishment856 t1_j9p0ib4 wrote

Just then pop a man with a lion's head appeared. "There he is. What a man. Listen, Reaper, I got him from here."

"Easy, Erra," Saint Peter said as he laid a hand on the man's bare chest. "This one's already been claimed."

"What? By you? No way. I haven't had one in..." he started counting on his fingers and we all waited until pop an ebony (the wood, not just the color) woman in a diaphanous gown and matching insect wings appeared and immediately began massaging my shoulders. The Saint averted his eyes and started mumbling something in Latin.

"Wait," I said after a moment. "Why are you mumbling in Latin? Wouldn't it be Aramaic?"

"Oh, a lot of church folk came in speaking Latin, so it's what I've gotten most used to. More time dead than alive, after all."

The valkyrie chuckled at that, then went back to sharpening her blade and whistling.

The Grim Reaper looked up from his paperwork, "Ok, so Erra, you can leave. Your claims only apply if he died in Mesopotamia, or no one else has a claim."

"Is Saint Paul not between two rivers, the Mississippi and Saint Croix?" The lion man asked. "What does Mesopotamia mean, after all?"

"Let me look this up," the Reaper said, clearly annoyed.

The woman's hands started to moved down my chest until a blade was suddenly against her throat.

"He certainly isn't yours, Ana. Just look at his back." The valkyrie was referencing my shoulder tattoo of Mjolnir. Spring break of 2012 had more than a few bad decisions.

Ana rolled her eyes, spun me round, and planted a kiss on my. I felt roots reaching into my lungs (and was shocked to find I still had lungs) before she retracted them and pulled away.

The valkyrie lopped her head off, but the plant matter quickly adjusted to reattach it.

"Valkyrie, go home," Reaper said without looking up.

"But the mark?"

"It's the Marvel rendition, not the traditional."

"So he's a moron. Most of our men are."

"He is a moron, but a drunken tattoo doesn't give you claim."

She stomped off, grumbling to herself in what I assume was old Norse.

"Ana, you can leave, too. I'm not clear why you even came."

"Oh, I just saw he was getting a lot of attention," said with a sly grin. "Did you want some, Slim?"

He ignored her, and soon after, she disappeared, just as a mass of sharp teeth, cancerous flesh, and eyes bubbled up from the floor.

"Squigoloth? What are you doing here?" The Saint asked as he and Erra stepped back.

The response was a sound like a thousand bees scraping their fingernails on chalkboards, echoing up from the deepest mineshaft ever imagined.

"Huh, Squiggy makes a good point. Hey bud, you ever sell your soul? Would sort this mess right out."

"Not that I remember," I laughed.

"Are you sure?" Erra asked, while reaching a hand toward me.

"Yeah, I'm—" I suddenly flashed back to that Thursday night, April something, 2012. Like I said, bad decisions.

"You did get to hook up with Sylvia Berkowicz."

"Ok, but I just said I'd sell my soul to hook up with her. I didn't say to who."

There was a roar of primordial oceans being drained into a massive cavern lit by flowing magma.

"No," Saint Peter said, "He's right. He didn't clarify, and no one actually acted to increase his chances. The deal was out there, but none of you claimed it."

"Technically," Grim said, standing and somehow smiling despite only being a skeleton. "Technically, Sylvia facilitated the hook up. She let him sleep with her." He lifted the massive book, pointing at a line. "Here we are. So in a sense, he sold his soul to her. So we just send him wherever she is."

There was a solid ten seconds of silence.

Finally, Erra spoke up. "And where is she?"

Reaper frowned and slumped back in his chair. "Alive."

"So... Whose purgatory is he waiting in?" Peter asked with a raised eyebrow.

"Just... Just give me a moment, guys. I'll figure it out. I just need a short break."

pop A small lizard man in a tailored suit appeared and started measuring my limbs.

"Hold on, Kurt," Erra said, resting a gentle hand on the lizard man's shoulder. "There's some paperwork to sort on this one. We may be here a while."

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Hypoallergenic_Robot t1_j9qbapk wrote

Great story, I love like lore related mixed mythology. But what goddess was Ana? I've been googling keywords for like 10 minutes lol

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NextEstablishment856 t1_j9r48p8 wrote

She was just another original creation, like Squigoloth, the eldritch god of laughter. She is the ancient Tunisian collector of souls who are killed by trees, but aren't lumberjacks. Things have slowed down for her a great deal, especially as new entities tend to get first claim on souls, but there is the occasional logging truck accident that gives her tons of paperwork. She also enjoys spending her spare time making dreamcatchers and flirting with Grim.

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tgdBatman90 t1_j9rqfc3 wrote

I now need a book series on Ana. Whenever you get around to it... tomorrow? 5 book series? Perfect.

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momdrak53 t1_j9qzxj3 wrote

What does Sylvia say about owning a forign soul?

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NextEstablishment856 t1_j9r2hya wrote

Sylvia looked at the Grim Reaper, then to me, then back to him. "I slept with this guy once, so I own his soul?"

"He offered his soul to hook up with you, yes."

"Jeez, kid. Have some self-respect."

"Whoa, to be clear, it was a flippant remark, back in 2012."

The Reaper put a hand in front of me. "As no other entities assisted in the hook up, it was deemed you had best claim to it. So his soul is yours."

Saint Peter was behind her, tapping a foot and looking at his watch. Apparently, she had lived a good life after that spring break. Eighty seven when she passed.

"No, this is too disturbing. I am not accepting a soul, especially not for a one night stand I don't remember."

"Can she do that?" I asked the Reaper. "Just refuse my soul?"

He gritted his teeth as he said, "Yes." It had been almost 50 years since I'd died, and I could tell it was getting him.

"Alright, we are out," Pete said, and he and Sylvia Wagner (nee Berkowicz) vanished.

"Ok, guess you're back to the books," I said to Grim, getting only a low growl in response as he sat back behind his desk.

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BookWyrm10 t1_j9s8ucn wrote

No I definitely got to know where he wound up. I mean this is going to kill me with curiosity.

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NextEstablishment856 t1_j9x4wz4 wrote

It had been... millenia? Eons? I don't really know. I was here a long time. Occasionally someone else would need a rules check, and we'd chat while Grim sorted the mess. I was backburner so long, I think he sort of... Stopped. He'd looked for loopholes, went over every second of my life, tried every trick, called in every favor, but each time he thought it was sorted, something new came up.

My backpacking in Europe put me back on Valhalla's radar when they found I'd passed out drunk on Ymir's kneecap or something, but then I'd also broken some fae laws on the trip, so their gods came into play, and so forth for all of time. Literally all of time.

"The last living thing just died," Grim said, massaging his temples. "And the final few embers are fading in the universe. I'll have to step out to collect its consciousness, and it might take a bit to judge. After that, I cease to exist."

"Wait, what? What happens to me?" I'd never really stressed about my afterlife before. Neither pre- nor post-death had made it a worry, even as the debate raged on for my soul.

The reaper gave a shrug. "I guess we'll see. Well, you will. I hope you know, I really hate you and am praying it is worse than the bowels of the worst hells."

"You hate me? What like this is my fault? You had one job!"

"Oh, what, Karen? You gonna ask for my manager?"

"Uh... Do you have a manager? I sort of assumed you'd have talked to them by now if you did."

"No, I don't have manager! Is your name Karen? It was an insulting condescension, you twit!"

I never took it well when people insulted my intelligence, I admit, and taking a swing at Death was not my brightest moment, but I gotta say, feeling his jaw crunch under my fist was one of the best things to happen to mean in that waiting room. He came back at me with a swift kick to the groin, which I still think was unfair. Both because I couldn't retaliate in kind, and because being dead seems like it should be a defense against that pain.

As I writhed on the floor, he stood over me. "Fine, forget it. I'm done. You go collect the universal consciousness."

"Wha-ow ow ow-what are you going to do?"

He paused, thinking. "Ah, screw it. I have no idea. I'm about to de-exist here."

"Dang, man. That's not fair. You do all this work for others just to disappear. Hey, you ever make out with the tree girl?"

"What? Ana? No."

"You go do that. I'm going to figure out this universe mess."

"Not to be a pessimist, but you can't figure out your own mess."

"Then it will take a while. More time for you and barkskin to spend together. She isn't my type, but you're definitely hers. Trust me, I was the best wingman back in the day. Now go."

He opened his mouth to say something else when an ebony arm reached out of thin air, then pulled him in after. I was alone in the waiting room. Not a first time, but it was a first time it happened for this reason. I walked over to his desk and started looking in the book.

"Universal consciousness... Universal... Consciousness..." I flipped lazily through, in no rush to do this job, but wanting to ensure I didn't screw anything else up like I had done with pretty much everything in my afterlife. Actually, I'd pretty well screwed up in my regular life as well.

"Excuse me," a woman's voice called from the other side of the desk. "Are you the Grim Reaper?"

"Uh, that's what it says on the nameplate."

She glanced at the metal plate on the triangular stand, which did, in fact, say "Grim Reaper," as I'd said. Technically, I didn't lie.

"Oh, you look different than I expected." I finally looked up from the book to see a redhead. What can I say, I have a weakness. And I sure didn't learn better from the mess with Sylvia and my soul.

"What, you looking for a skeleton? I have one inside me." Ok, countless ages may have weakened my pick up lines. "Sorry. You probably want to get on with your afterlife. You know where you're going?"

"I thought that was your job to sort out."

"Uh, yeah, but we normally have reps come in to make there claims. Weird no one is showing up."

"Maybe nobody wants my soul."

"Heh, that'd be a new one. Seems like everyone tried to claim mine. Don' t take it personally, I was nothing great. Just lived a bit wild, if short, life. How about you?"

"I don't really know. It seem short, but compared to others? I suppose it was long, but mostly amounted to nothing."

"I don't think any life amounts to nothing," I said.

And I think here is where we leave our hero, oblivious to the identity of the consciousness he is poorly attempting to flirt with, but happy for one more chance to hook up with a redhead. Not a bad afterlife at all, if you ask me.

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momdrak53 t1_j9xtd7j wrote

would it be too greedy to ask for more?

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NextEstablishment856 t1_j9xx4o4 wrote

Ha, no, but I'll leave this alone for now. Glad you enjoyed it. It was certainly fun to write

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