Guess who's back. Back again.

It's me, and I brought fanfiction.

This chapter is introducingsome things so it's not super funny or interesting haaa~ but it is entirely necessary.

ONWARDS.

There was a moment of radio silence from my end whilst Undertaker giggled quietly to himself. He was still smiling goofily and gazing at me from behind his bangs, as if he hadn't just offered to let some stranger stay with him.

"D-do you mean that?" I asked a little suspicious that he was pulling my leg.

He nodded exaggeratedly, "I do indeed, I do indeed!"

And that was why, 30 minutes afterward, I was supposedly being given a tour of Undertaker's place. I say "supposedly" because he started by introducing me to the parlor we were in and we still hadn't left it a half an hour later.

You're probably wondering how he managed to showcase a funeral parlor for any longer than five minutes. Let me tune you in…

"And this coffin was made of pine! Gives it sort of a rugged look, doesn't it?" He asked, turning to look at me.

I nodded, "I didn't know you could make coffins with pine. That's pretty, uh… wild." I said a bit sarcastically, he didn't notice at all whatsoever.

"It's amazing what you can make a coffin with! Wood, metal, stone… You know, I heard that in Taiwan, they make coffins with crushed oyster shells~!" He spouted delightedly.

I frowned contemplatively. At this point, I was honestly formulating theories in my head that the parlor was the only room in this building, and the Undertaker was just trying to distract me from that by keeping me in here forever.

As he started introducing me to the interior of the pine coffin, I very quietly backed away, eyeing the doorway to the left. It was illuminated with a soft, warm light. The closer I got to it, the more it came in focus.

Before entering through the doorframe, I cast a quick look at Undertaker, seeing that he was still talking animatedly and stroking the inside of the coffin. I felt a teeny bit guilty, but curiosity prevented the cat from being remorseful, eh?

The doorway led to a square landing, to my right was a cracked open door that the aforementioned light was coming from. Besides that, there was a staircase tucking itself down under the floor. I could only see the first couple of steps before it was completely shrouded with the darkness of all nightmares.

I'd seen enough horror movies in my past life, and the cold air wafting up from the lower level was an ominous enough sign for me to switch my attention over to the door.

Now the door was practically the opposite of the staircase, it was bright, it got warmer the closer I got to it, it wasn't creepy as fuck. I slowly peeked my head in and saw what seemed to be some sort of a study. There was a sturdy, wooden desk messily covered in journals and papers, a lamp emitting a yellow light, and several books lying about.

The light caught on a pair of old-looking glasses. Although, I didn't know why Undertaker would be concerned about having glasses when he keeps his eyes hidden behind his bangs all the time. Maybe they were reading glasses? Were reading glasses even invented yet? How many times a day am I gonna have to fucking ask myself that? Hell if I knew.

I turned my head to look behind the door but the movement caused the lamp's light to reflect across something hiding in the darkness of the corner. Squinting my eyes, I saw what appeared to be the light glimmering against something curved and… metal?

"Found something~?" The question sounded a few inches away from my ear.

I squeaked and backed away from the door, right into the front of Undertaker, who had thankfully straightened so that I didn't run right into his head. I turned around, mouth open and struggling to find an excuse as to why I was snooping around. Instead, Undertaker put a finger to my lips and reached up with his other hand.

My eyes followed the movement, and I saw that to the side of the door was a single shelf nailed up above the doorframe. There were a few books, a (hopefully fake?) human skull, and a picture frame so dusty I couldn't see what was in it. I didn't think any of those things were something that he would logically grab, but hey, I didn't know with this guy.

He easily reached the high shelf and grabbed for something on the very edge, sliding it down and then holding it in front of me with a smile.

'A key.'

He was close enough now that I could feel his body heat, and he was only getting closer. His arms began to wrap around my body, my face coming into contact with his chest.

"Chuckles, just what do you think you're-?" I felt my face heating up, my muffled question was interrupted by the sound of a shutting door and a loud 'click'. I gaped in disbelief as Undertaker pulled away and put the key back up out of reach, an eerie smile on his face.

I wondered what was in there that he wouldn't want me to see. Maybe he kept his diary in there? I didn't know, but he seemed pretty territorial, so I wasn't gonna bring anything up. I wouldn't be surprised if he fucking growled at me at this point, holy hell.

"Why don't I show you the other side of the house? It's where you'll be staying after all." Undertaker asked, not expressing any negative reaction beyond the brief intimidating creepiness. I mean at this point I was contemplating religion over the fact that he didn't kick me out. He began guiding me by the small of my back into the parlor again and through a doorway on the right side of it.

This side of the building too had a landing, with a doorway that led to what looked like a kitchen instead of a study and similarly, stairs going up instead of down. He didn't take me into the kitchen, probably because there wasn't much going on in there. It was pretty barren, showing no signs that he ever prepared much in there besides tea, which I thought was... odd.

Instead, he leaned against the wall and gestured for me to go first. I did so, climbing up the creaky stairs and finding myself in an empty room with four doors, all of them shut and therefore giving me no preview as to what they were.

I didn't think Undertaker had followed me, because I hadn't heard the stairs creaking and groaning behind me. However, I did suddenly feel a warmth against my back and see something black in my peripheral. Turning my head, I saw him and his goofy fuckin' grin, he hadn't said much since finding me nosing around.

I wondered if one of these rooms was a death chamber in which he was going to punish me in. I frowned a little and hesitantly followed as he walked forward to the closest room on the right.

"This is a bedroom~" He said, patting the door without opening it. He moved on to the next one and I rolled my eyes with a snort, grabbing the doorknob and pushing it open. Wasn't much of a tour if I wasn't really seeing anything besides the parlor, now was it?

I was surprised when I opened the door to… a bedroom. Is that rude of me? Probably. Whoops. I mean, I expected a bed of course! But maybe I also expected coffins and cobwebs and… skeletons? I don't know. Maybe it would be a bit too "cheesy-dated-horror-film" for a mortician to have a skeleton in his bedroom.

Instead of a crypt-fest, it was just an ordinary, nice-looking bedroom. It had two windows that told me I'd been sleeping in a coffin for longer than I'd thought, for it was dark outside. It had the basics, a big bed, a bedside table, and what looked like a closet. It was obvious from the immaculate look of the room that this wasn't where Undertaker stayed.

'Or anybody stayed.' I thought.

I raised an eyebrow and shut the door again, giving the Undertaker a look.

"Why are you looking at me like that~?" He asked while I redirected my gaze quickly when his grin turned into a toothy smirk. I had a thing for bad boy types, man, couldn't get into that.

Trying to force the pink off my cheeks, I shrugged, "It's a bedroom, like you said."

The next room on the right was a bathroom. An odd feeling came over me that I was intruding on something when I saw it. There was a damp towel hanging over the lip of the bathtub, a brush and comb in the cupboard. I saw a shaving razor on the sink, as well as a few bottles of things, including a bottle of... was that really...?

"Chuckles, I'll be completely honest, I did not take you for a whiskey kinda guy." I said, trying to stop the sly smirk from cutting across my face.

"Hah~?" He shuffled towards the bathroom and looked in, spotting the bottle of whiskey sitting idly on the countertop, "Oh dear! I do apologize for that, Miss, I must've… misplaced it."

I nodded, trying to keep from laughing, "Mmhmm, sure. What's, uh, what's over here?" I asked, trying to save him from any further discomfort.

He quickly grasped onto the distraction and walked to the other end of the room. He opened one of the two doors and inside was… yet another bedroom. Though this one looked much more lived in. I strolled in, looking about.

The bed was neatly made, a gaudy, ornate lamp sat on the bedside table, a full length mirror leaned against the wall, and this room too had two windows. There were a few things hung up - which was not featured in the last bedroom - but they weren't paintings. Each frame held some sort of scientific illustration. Books were stacked in the corners of the room, out of the way but still very much present, and then just behind the door was a…

"FUCK."

There's the skeleton I was looking for.

In my blind panic, I had punched the skull, efficiently beheading it. I watched silently, my fist still raised, as the head rolled lazily around me before coming to a wobbly stop in front of the Undertaker, who looked down at its toothy grin with a lost expression.

We looked at each other at the same time, keeping our silence, before my resolve broke and I snorted. I covered my face in embarrassment as Undertaker and I began laughing obnoxiously. His laughter, of course, was much more loud and impressive, causing him to lean against the doorframe. As guffaws turned into quiet giggles, I held my aching stomach and wiped tears from the corners of my eyes.

"So - pfft hehee - is this your room?" I asked.

It took Undertaker a little bit longer to calm down, and I ended up having to repeat the question before he answered, "No, this is a guest bedroom as well~"

He stood, back leaned against the doorframe, smiling as if he were particularly interested in my response. I thought for a moment, realizing that the last door must be Undertaker's room. But then why…?

"You're a mortician, why do you even have guest bedrooms?" I questioned, furrowing my eyebrows.

He pouted but it seemed to only be for dramatic purposes, "Are you assuming that I don't have anybody that would want to stay with me, dearest Althea?"

"Okay, yeah, it makes sense to have a guest bed, but two? When you already have stuff crammed wherever you can fit it in your parlor? Why would you waste space with two guest rooms unless you were actively fuckin' using them, huh?" I asked, hands on my hips.

"..." Undertaker's face merely broke into a grin.

"I'm not the only stranger you're boarding, am I?"

"Forgive me, Althea, but I didn't think you were so clever… nor so suspicious." He lightly jabbed, he didn't look away from me whilst tapping his chin.

"So, I'm not." I confirmed, raising an eyebrow, wondering what the hell a mortician would be doing boarding up people.

"Well, I suppose you would've found out eventually. I would say you're the only stranger I've let stay here. I do sometimes have other guests that stay for a night or two when they're on the job and need a place to stay. I don't let those guests live with me for long periods of time, like you, but you seem to be a special case~" He said, and as he finished I felt like my very soul was being examined and judged.

I cleared my throat, focusing on the information he'd given, "And when you say 'guests', you don't mean the dead kind, do you?"

He paused for a moment, "I assure you, they all breathe~"

I wondered a bit about the phrasing of his response before pinning it down to him being odd and shrugging it off.

"And also… why is this room filled with books and pictures and a goddamn skeleton when the other guest room is-"

"Empty? Let's just say I have a couple of high maintenance guests that are very concerned about their living atmosphere." Undertaker said, making a quick look that simply said "yeesh".

I grinned, "Translation: you have a couple of guests that complain about the clutter when they come to stay, so you leave one room clean?"

"Precisely~" Undertaker confirmed with a chuckle.

"So I suppose I'll stay in here then? To keep out of those guests' way." I said, bending down to pick up the skull and placing it back on the stilted frame of the skeleton. Which again, was hopefully fake.

"That might be the wiser decision. Now if I may bring up a topic that's been eating at me for a while?" He said, lilting his voice so it sounded like a question.

"Uh, sure, shoot."

"What in all of England are you wearing?" He asked. I frowned, although I could tell he wasn't asking to be rude or make fun. He seemed genuinely curious as to what the fuck I had on. I hadn't really registered what clothes I was in, just that they were wet earlier due to the fact that this girl's body that I was in had killed herself via drowning. But Undertaker didn't know that much.

In fact, it was pretty fucking nice that despite him knowing so little when the situation was so confusing, he was letting me stay with him. I mean if some bitch spouting nonsense showed up in my graveyard and then proceeded to drown on land, I probably would've called the authorities.

Wondering what exactly I was wearing, I walked over to the full length mirror and saw that… oh boy... Our dearest body had definitely not come from the 21st century. Though it could definitely be worse, because it was clear that the clothes were at least a lot more modern than the 1880s.

First was the black knit top, with a collar line going up way too far but not far enough to be a turtleneck. I don't know what this chick thought she was doing swimming in knit clothing first of all. Second were the black tights that disappeared behind a skirt that fell a few inches above the knee.

'School appropriate, how disgusting.'

The thing about the skirt was that it was high waisted (which, I mean, I guess was a thing going on even in my time?) and a dark green color with a fucking distracting diamond pattern going on. Then there were the shoes, they were pretty much Mary Janes that had a platform heel. That means that either this girl came from Tumblr or from the 70s, but my bets were placed a bit higher on the latter.

"So I could've chosen the land of Farrah Fawcett and David Bowie and I got sent to a place where vaccines are barely a thing?" I mumbled to myself.

"What was that?" Undertaker asked, drifting closer to the mirror and settling behind me.

"Nothing..." I grumbled, then distracted myself by noticing how much taller than me he was. Even though I'd gained a couple inches in this new body, it was nothing compared to his skyscraper cosplay.

I looked behind me, first at Undertaker and then at the windows against the far wall. Upon seeing how dark it was, a yawn forced itself out of my mouth. Undertaker snickered and grabbed my shoulders, steering me over to the bed.

He sat me down and patted my head, "I'll go and fetch you some night clothes." He said before all but disappearing.

Silence took over the room as soon as the creaking of the stairs stopped. I felt like something invisible was muffling over my ears. Sitting here, in this quiet moment, made something heavy sink in my chest. I felt almost as if I had tried fast forwarding a movie and when I pressed play I was in a spot I'd not seen before.

But I couldn't go back.

I felt tears pricking the corners of my eyes and burning my nose. That was the truth, wasn't it? I couldn't go back, and was that my reward or my punishment?

But then as if being told by that animated monkey from Lion King I heard, 'Look closer.'

Holding my head in my hands I shook my head incredulously. Because, quite honestly, I could go back. The ghosts in the graveyard, they never addressed it, but if all it takes is suicide then surely there were people cheating the system. Cheating the system by killing themselves so that they live forever in different bodies and in different times, it didn't make sense.

'Why wouldn't they have said anything about that? Surely that would've been priority numero uno, to tell me not to fuckin' cheat death, right?'

I looked up blankly at a scientific illustration of a human heart, 'I could go back.'

"Sorry if this is too small, it was the only size I had that wouldn't smother you in fabric, hehe~" Undertaker's voice echoed distantly before the door creaked open and he entered the room. In his hands was a nightgown with long sleeves, buttoning up in the front and made of thin fabric. I was definitely in the 1800s.

His presence ripped me out of my thoughts and I smiled, though even I could tell it wasn't convincing, "Thanks, Undertaker."

"Goodnight, Althea. Sweet dreams~" He said, backing out of the door.

"G'night," I called to his retreating form. Though from the way my brain was buzzing, I had a feeling that even if I did manage to get to sleep, I wouldn't be having sweet dreams at all.

Super super fun, yeah?

This chapter was a bit more serious because it unfortunately had to be. Again, I know some of you guys are coming over from Of Passion and Perversion and expecting it to be similar, but I actually expect this story to go somewhere lmao. So instead of gratuitous soft porn in each chapter I'm gonna have to, you know, actually further the plot?

And I foreshadowed and hinted to many a fucking thing in this chapter, if you caught on then you better be goddamn excited. I promise, it'll be simply to die for~!