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whereianonymouslypostfics · 1 year

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Laid to rest

Pairing: Wanda Maximoff x reader

Word count: ~1.6k

Summary: Part 2 of too late

A/N: This is another ‘what if’ but it’s never gonna happen. Don’t worry, my brain is just running around in a circle chasing its tail. I’ll post something fluffy later.

Warnings: heavy angst, death, thoughts of suicide

Wanda’s eyes are red and puffy as she watches the wind blow through the trees of the mountains behind your house. It had been three weeks since you’d died and she still couldn’t bring herself to let you go. It had taken her brother, Bucky and Steve, all dragging Wanda away from you after the shootout had ended before things had calmed down enough to allow them to regain their bearings.

When everyone had realized you and Boone hadn’t made it they’d been devastated. No one had been able to hide it enough to help pull Wanda from her grief. The sisters had taken care of the two of you while Pietro tried to get his sister to calm down. He’d watched her go through nearly every stage of grief in that ruined bar, and by the time he’d gotten her home she was near catatonic. She hadn’t wanted to go to the compound or her house because it didn’t matter what she did, there would be signs of you everywhere.

Pietro decided to take her to the house, and he’d only regretted it immediately when Wanda broke down again at the sight of your car in the garage. Despite her refusal to talk or do much of anything for days, Pietro stayed with her to make sure that she didn’t do anything too damaging. He watched her drink for the first day, then just cry and sleep for the next before she finally talked to Nat and Yelena to find out what had happened to you.

She hadn’t wanted to see you like that again, and she’d known your final wishes since the beginning of your relationship. She confirmed that you were cremated along with your dog, and she’d asked for you to be brought home.

Now Wanda was standing in the middle of the woods with her family and two urns in her hands. You had never told her what you wanted done in the event that your dog passed away because that was never something you could bring yourself to talk about. You loved him so much and he was still young so the idea of losing him made you cry. Therefore you never thought about it, let alone talked to her about it.

So Wanda took some liberties, but she assumed that you would want to be with your dog if at all possible. She wanted to do that for you, and she looks over to the horizon from the cliff where the two of you had gotten engaged before she takes a deep breath. You’d brought her out here one morning when it had been dark and cold, but you’d sworn that the sunset would be worth it. She had humored you because she loved you and she hadn’t regretted it when the sun came up and bathed the mountains in a beautiful glow. She remembers turning to you to tell you that you were right when she sees that you’re not longer standing beside her.

Tears start to fall as she remembers how shocked she’d been to see you kneeling before her with a ring in your hand. You’d told her how much you loved her and that no matter what you’d always be with her. You wanted to marry her and have a family and grow old together.

Wanda carefully readjusts the urns as the wind continues to whip her hair around her face. She glances over her shoulder at her friends who all look distracted by their own thoughts.

Wanda’s grateful for the years she’s had them in her life. Times weren’t always good and she sometimes couldn’t stand how close they all were, but they were her family at the end of the day. She and Pietro had lost their own family relatively young, but they had found a new one among their friends…and you.

She owed them a lot. Especially after the past few weeks of hell for all of them. She’d fallen apart and she still didn’t see any of the pieces in sight as she tries to get used to living without you and Boone. The silence of the house is overwhelming and despite having every television in the house on at all times, it didn’t help. Nothing could keep her from noticing your absence.

Wanda turns around completely before she addresses the group that joined her out here in the middle of the woods on this depressing day. She knew she wasn’t good company, but they all deserved to be here as she sends you and Boone off in a way that hopefully helps her realize that neither of you are coming back.

“Y/n would have hated this.”

Pietro seems to be the only one who knows where his sister is going with this. Bucky and Steve just wait for her to continue while Nat and Yelena shoot her a confused look. They had been thinking about how the last few weeks had been horrendous as they dealt with the aftermath of your death.

Yelena had almost completely shut Kate out for the first week as she drank herself sick, and Nat has been training so hard that she’d broken bones in both of her hands. They’d dealt with their grief in different ways and despite not being anywhere close to better, they needed to be here for this.

“She would hate that I brought you to this special place so we could all drown in our grief together.”

Wanda takes a moment to imagine you standing beside her with a disgruntled expression and your hands on your hips. She actually smiles and her brother nearly starts tearing up at the sight. He’s certain that he hasn’t seen his sister smile since she lost you.

“She’d probably threaten to push us off the cliff if we didn’t stop moping.”

Wanda doesn’t bother to mention that she’d considered jumping off of it and other things multiple times before today. She’d dreamt of ending her life so she could be with you, but she knows that you wouldn’t welcome her if she did it. She’d promised you to try and move on, and despite hating the idea and wanting to scream just at the thought of it, she was going to do it. Not any time soon, and she didn’t think you’d fault her for that, but she will find a way to keep going.

“Y/n would love that you’re all here with her…and her spoiled dog.”

This got a few laughs and Nat smiled at the thought of you spoiling your dog at every possible opportunity. She tries not to think about how he’d been shot almost as many times as you that night when you both had been targeted. They were still trying to figure out the details, and it was slow going because they almost didn’t want to know, but the consensus was that you were the target. That would explain why you were the first one shot and the only person killed during the attack.

“And although I know they would rather be here with us, I’m at least grateful that they’re together.”

Yelena wipes her eyes when Wanda says this and she looks away as she realizes that she is grateful for this too. You’d loved your dog almost as much as you loved Wanda and knowing that you’d seen him die right before you tore her up.

Wanda sighs deeply as she wipes her eyes and looks up at the sky. The light blue peeks through the trees and she smiles once again as she looks to her brother first before the rest of her family.

Despite giving him shit often, he was a great brother who’d been an immense help through all of this. He’d practically moved in and stopped working so he could make sure that she was okay. Wanda couldn’t even bring herself to ask about work or how they were going to respond to this. She’d just been grateful for her brother’s presence and his silent reassurance that he was there for whatever she needed.

“Now this isn’t goodbye because I refuse to believe we won’t see her again, but if she gets her way like usual, it won’t be anytime soon.”

Wanda turns back toward the view that takes her back to one of the happiest moments of her life before she walks towards the edge of the cliff. She doesn’t realize she’s being followed as she clutches the urns so tightly her hands start to ache. She glances down to the trees far below her and she only has a moment to consider how far down it is.

A hand on her shoulder makes her turn to the side to see Pietro shooting her a kind smile. She checks her other side and confirms her suspicions that Nat and Yelena are standing beside her as well. She sighs in defeat as she starts to open the urns that contain your ashes and Boone’s before she steps so close to the edge that a strong breeze could send her over.

“This is just the first part of keeping our promise. Accepting that she’s gone a-and eventually being okay despite this.”

Pietro’s hand on her shoulder steadies her enough to tip the urns and watch as the breeze carries the two of you away. She’s crying by the time she passes them to her brother with a look that he just nods at. Wanda squeezes her eyes shut as everyone else takes a few moments to honor you as well. She continues to cry silently as she sits down so her legs are dangling over the edge of the earth. Pietro is quick to follow her and soon everyone’s sitting and getting lost in their thoughts as they watch the sun rise higher.

“I hope she knows how much she was loved.”

Wanda leans against her brother as he sets the empty urns beside him with a nod. He wraps an arm around his sister as he glances back out to the view that will now always remind him of you.

“She knows.”

Masterlist

#wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff x female reader #wanda maximoff fanfiction #wanda x reader #wanda x you #silver springs #silver springs drabble #silver springs au #not actual events for silver springs #angst #death

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xradiant · 2 months

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For the past few - minutes? hours? - however long it had been she had been standing at the window, staring out into the world before her. Noting resembled something real, none of it was the world that she had remembered. This was something else and this city? It was full of progress that she had never thought possible. But it was also filled to the brim with iconography of herself. A heavy shock had filled her when she had first found out about the religion that the Chantry spearheaded. She didn't know its history but she couldn't bring herself to ask. She didn't want to know. She was almost scared to. There was a small urn on the table near a row of candles and she couldn't even bring herself to look at it. Those had been her ashes, or so she had been told. That left a sour taste in her mouth, a bitter feeling. She could still remain the way it had felt when the flames had consumed her. It sent a shiver down her spine and made her wrap her arms about herself protectively. But there were no flames and she was safe here. She didn't know why she had been brought back. She didn't know what they had meant when they told her to wait here until they found a path for her.

Finally she turned around to face the sound of someone entering. He stood there, not at all intimidating and not what she would assume a religious man would look like. Was he one? She hadn't figured that out. "They're singing hymns." She said softly, lifting her hand to tuck back the loose curls of her hair. "And those people from the Chantry...all they do is chant in verse." Her brows furrow lightly as she turned her back fully on the window. Those hymns to the Maker, mentioning her, were far more chilling than the memory of her execution. "Please tell me that you don't do that. I don't think...well, I don't think that I could bear it." - @luckhissoul

#interaction ; andraste & mat #luckhissoul #ch: andraste #( rebirth through the ashes )

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platinumaspiration · 1 year

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hey! i’m a fellow uberhood player and i’m super nosey so could you tell us some fun/exciting/dramatic things that have happened in your hood?

hello, my fellow uberhood player! Oh, man... well, I have a habit of romanticizing my sims' lives (and my own) so there's a long wall of text under the cut + pictures!

The Beaker Fire of 2022 - There is an ongoing investigation into the disastrous fire that left two dead: Nervous and Loki. The suspects in question are Freya, the cat and Cyclotron, the Servo. Consequently, Circe was left with Loki's side projects: Ceres and Atom and so, to make her happy, Cyclotron has officially changed his name to CycLoki and assumed Loki's identity. No one says anything about it because no one else is going to do the dishes and clean up the lab. And me, as The Watcher, will enable CycLoki in any endeavor even though he annoys me.

2. An Indecent Proposal - As some may recall, Tybalt and Puck were an overly obnoxious couple throughout Uni. They even went as far as to get engaged autonomously! After Uni, they moved in together to a small house in Veronaville. While Tybalt was at work, Puck wanted to invite someone over. He also had a want to flirt with Tank. As a benevolent and beautiful Watcher, I put the pieces together and ushered Puck to the phone.

First, I want to say, Tank and Puck have 3 bolt chemistry and second, Puck and Tank have made out IN FRONT OF Tybalt and he didn't mind. Anyway, Puck and Tank hooked up and Tybalt came home from work and lo and behold, Tybalt was not upset. Did not care. Confident or Cuckold?

Puck then walked over to Tybalt and AUTONOMOUSLY broke up with him. Yes, all of the sudden I get a pop up asking me who will move out. Dismissed, rejected, publicly humiliated. It was more than Tybalt could bear.

I switch over to Tybalt's new apartment and he's invited to an outing downtown by none other than Puck. I'm thinking, oh maybe there's a chance? Nope. At the outing, it's Puck, Tank, Romeo, Juliette, Hermia, and Puck's mom, Titania. So, basically, it was Tybalt vs Tank and Romeo all night.

Puck must have been feeling some kind of way because as Tybalt was calling a taxi, Puck tried to serenade him. It was at that moment Tybalt swore to ruin Puck and Tank's happiness.

Tybalt ended his round sleeping with John Mole (Tank's love interest) and - I believe - he had a hand in Puck losing his job.

3. The Curious Case of Pascal... Curious - I think it's just a fun/funny fact that Pascal remains a virgin who has never been kissed. I hope he will die like that.

4. Occupied Bathroom - In an effort to condense households, I moved David Ottomas and Gavin Newson in together and they both died. I have no idea how; I came back from whatever I was doing to find two urns in separate bathrooms. Sorry to Angela Pleasant, I know she loved Gavin 😥

5. She Said No - Patricia Wan and Cleo Shikibu are like peanut butter and jelly. They really love hanging out with each other and naturally talk to each other in game. So why the heck would Patricia deny Cleo's autonomous proposal?? And Cleo just had their twins?? That moment was a table flipping moment. Granted, nothing happened after that, but the point remains!

6. He Loves Me, He Loves Me Not - Juliette and Romeo. Romeo and Juliette. Lovers forced apart by no one except themselves in my game. Juliette is constantly rolling wants for Romeo so when her round came up, I had her ask Romeo on a date. She immediately rolled wants to be engaged and married to Romeo... And continuing my efforts to be the best Watcher I can be, I had Juliette propose. Romeo shrugged it off then wanted to make out. He doesn't roll wants for multiple partners, I truly think he just wants Juliette but not tied down.

[I play with vvqb's Alt Veronaville where the parents are alive.] Cordelia has an extreme dislike of Romeo and opted to set up Juliette with Dirk Dreamer. Juliette - after two dates with Dirk and another one with Romeo - finally rolled a want to marry Dirk. Dirk said yes, but I'll be damned that Juliette rolled to kiss Romeo. We'll see how this plays out next round.

7. A New Demographic - The Unsavory Charlatan found a new group of sims to pickpocket. He really has hit rock bottom and brought a shovel with him.

#uberhood #uberhood shenanigans

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feedingtheflockministry · 9 months

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Coping With the Loss of a Companion Animal

“A righteous man has regard for the life of his animal, but even the compassion of the wicked is cruel.” Proverbs 12:10

Recently my wife and I had to make the very grievous decision of putting down our beloved golden retriever Honey Bear. She was a true blessing from God over the last twelve and half years. She was greatly loved by us, by extended family, and brightened up those she came in contact with in our community. I have lost other pets in the past through death and moving from place to place, but never experienced the pain and grief of losing Honey.

Upon receiving her urn and a plaster print of her paw we also received a short seven page pamphlet titled “Coping With the Loss of a Companion Animal | Support Guide for Families”. We found it to be helpful in the grieving process, and decided to share it with others that may have lost a furry family member or about to. We hope it helps in the grieving process, and our hearts go out to you in your time of loss.

Grief

Grief is a healthy and normal response to loss. Attempting to suppress feelings of grief can actually prolong the grieving process. Grief can feel like being lost. The familiar things we relied on to live each day are gone. We must find new anchors or stabilizers along the way and learn a new way of relating to the world and people around us. It is also common to replay the last moments of your pet’s life repeatedly in your mind, like a videotape that keeps playing the same scene over and over.

No one can hurry the process or provide a magic cure for grief. When grief is new, it is common to feel exhausted: physically, emotionally, and spiritually. Changes in appetite, sleeping patterns, or health are frequently reported. Those who are grieving often describe feelings of being out of control, isolation, and loneliness. Things that seemed so important before may now seem trivial. Others may experience a sense of “life isn’t fair” or being in a tunnel or fog while everyday life swirls around them.

“I HAD NEVER GONE THROUGH THE LOSS OF A PET AND IT HIT ME A LOT HARDER THAN I EXPECTED”

All of these feelings are normal and part of the grieving process, which follows no organized plan, rules, timetable, formula, or schedule. Don’t be surprised if you start to feel better, and then feel as if a wave has hit you. There will be ups and downs in the process of grieving.

The purpose of healthy grieving is not to “get over” the death of a loved one, but to integrate the experience of a pet’s death into present life. In this process, it is not unusual for certain memories of your pet to become blurred. This does not mean that you are forgetting your pet or that your love is diminished. The truth is, you will ALWAYS love this very special member of your family. The hope is that as time goes on, the feelings of sadness will become less difficult. In the beginning, you may be sad to think or talk about your companion animal. Eventually, the hope is that you will be able to talk and even smile or laugh at good memories.

“I THINK IT’S GODD TO HAVE SOMETHING TO READ BEFORE OR AFTER LOSING A PET. IT’S A REALLY NUMBING EXPERIENCE AND YOU MIGHT NOT WANT TO TALK, BUT READING SOMETHING IS QUIET AND REFLECTIVE THAT YOU CAN DO AT YOUR OWN PACE”

Guilt

Guilt and uncertainty are probably two of the most common emotions that people experience after the death of their pet. You may find yourself thinking continuously about what you perceive you could have, should have, or would have done to prevent or postpone your pet’s death Some suggestions for coping with guilt include:

1. Be truthful with yourself about why you feel guilty.

2. Write a letter to your pet expressing feelings you may be struggling with.

3. Do a reality check. Most people assume that if they had done something differently, the outcome would have been better. It’s just as likely, however, that if you had done things differently, the outcome would have been the same.

4. Remember that you are human. No one is perfect. Accepting your imperfections will aid you in working through your emotions.

5. Remember that all living things die. There is not always an answer to why bad things happen and you do not have to find someone (yourself or others) or something to blame. Realize that sometimes you are powerless and that you cannot control everything that happens to your loved ones. What you can control is how you choose to respond to the events that happen in your life

6. Try writing or talking to a trusted friend or advisor about your thoughts and feelings of guilt. Expressing your concerns in a safe and supportive environment can help you examine your emotions from a different perspective.

Seeking Support

While there is no standard duration for grief, the pain of loss normally eases with time. You can work through the process by applying healthy coping skills, such as talking with others about your memories and emotions and facing the grief, rather than trying to stay distracted or busy to avoid intense emotions. If your feelings . of sorrow or guilt have not diminished after several weeks or if they impair your ability to engage in family, social, work, or other functions, you may wish to reach out for support. Many people have found comfort in calling a pet loss support hotline, joining a pet loss support group, reading books about coping with the death of a pet, or talking with a trusted counselor or advisor.

Celebrate Your Pet’s Life

Some owners would like a way to memorialize their companion animal. The following are some ways that others have found helpful:

• Conduct a memorial service

• Keep your pet’s tags, toys, collars, bedding, etc. keep your horse’s shoes, tail, mane hair

• Save condolence cards or e-mails from friends and family

• Create a picture collage, scrapbook, story, or poem about vour pet

• If you chose cremation, you may keep the ashes in an urn or locket, or you may choose to scatter them in a place that was special to vour pet.

• Journal your pet’s story; how, when, and where you met, unique personality traits, nicknames, what you love the most, and what you’ll miss the most

• Donate time, money, or talent in your pet’s honor

“I HAVE A FRAMED PICTURE NEXT TO MY LIVING PLANTS, SO SHE IS SURROUNDED BY BEAUTY IN A SPACE THAT STILL FEELS ALIVE”

Adopting Again

The decision about bringing another animal into the home is very personal. Some families may decide not to adopt a new companion animal because of the emotional, physical, or financial demands involved with companion animal care. Others may feel the time is right to share their home and heart with another pet.

The time to consider adopting a new companion animal is when the entire family has had sufficient time to deal with the emotions of grief. Adopting too soon can lead to feelings of guilt or resentment toward the new family member. The important thing to remember is that bringing another animal into the home is not a betrayal of the one that is gone. You will never replace the one you’ve lost. You will simply be opening your home and heart to a new friend.

For families who want to consider adoption, it will be important to remember that each companion animal has a special and unique personality. Take time to discuss different sizes, breeds, or colors before making a final decision Consider the needs and temperament ol any surviving companion animals.

Losing a pet is extremely painful – you don’t have to face this alone. 24/7 grief support is available to all through our Pet Compassion Careline. CALL 1 (855) 245-8214 TO REACH A COUNSELOR TODAY.

Source at: https://www.gatewayservicesinc.com/grief-support (There are two pamphlets to choose from. This one and another titled “PRE-PLANNING AND PET AFTERCARE”.)

#animals #pets #fur children #fur babies #life and death #grief #dealing with grief

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your-name-is-my-favorite-verse · 1 year

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Finding Sunlight

Chptr 5.

Chris dropped me off after it got dark. We had gone out to dinner, talking about memories. A lot of them were sadder than either of us realized, but the time together was still nice.

I took off my coat and let it crumple to the floor, after taking my lighter and cigs out of the pocket.

Those things smelled more and more sickly as I smoked them, and I only took one drag before I just couldn’t stand it. I snuffed the cigarette on my kitchen counter, and looked at the box. 'I should.. really try to stop this.' I remember thinking.

I walked to my trash can, lifting the lid, and I threw the box away. I had replacement boxes, but for symbolism's sake, I was destroying my vices.

I glanced over to the living room area, at the broken coffee table. “It’s as good a time as any” I said to myself, rummaging through the hall closet and taking out a broom and dustpan.

I started sweeping the best I could, collecting all the noticeable glass into the plastic pan. I felt sorta like the table, in that moment, broken, unsalvageable.

I disregarded the edginess of that statement. I wasn’t a fucking table, and I needed to take accountability for it. If I was broken, it was ME who broke myself.

Lost in thought, I deposited the glass in a brown paper bag, wrapping it up carefully. A trick I picked up from my mother, after our dad shattered grandma’s urn. Not like she cared much, she’s as dead as him, But I did manage to learn how to safely dispose of shattered glass or pottery.

With glass disposal finished, I got my usual shower and hygiene out of the way, and went to bed.

Certainly not as big of a crash and burn as last night, as I had time to change before hitting the idiomatic hay.

As I laid there, I tried to be more present, to figure out my surroundings. The sheets were wrinkled and soft under my fingers, the quilt over me was a bit scratchy, with little pills in the fabric.

My pillow was yielding to my weight, the sides pushing around my ears as I formed a concave in the middle.

My breathing slowed, and before i realized, I drifted into sleep.

Sun shone once again through my eyelids, and as I came to my senses, I realized I was back in the grassy field.

There were clouds overhead now, stratus specifically. They seemed to be moving too fast for reality.

I stood, and the grass seemed to get taller as I did so. I started walking, not entirely aware of my bearings. I was waiting for her voice to guide me once again.

But her voice never came.

I kept wandering as the grass grew taller around me. I felt it scratching at the backs of my knees and thighs, making me jump a little with every step.

As the grass brushed past my shoulders, I started to panic. It was getting too tall for me to see what ahead, A familiar dizzy sensation swirling around my brain. I was hopelessly lost, my heart thudding in my throat.

“Breathe in, breathe out. One.”

I said this mantra to myself, counting like Dr. Lindsay taught me, and started realizing the sheer and hilarious un-reality of my situation.

It was just a field of grass.

I shut my eyes tight, continuing my exercise. At first, I assumed I would just be trapped in this field until I truly woke up. But I noticed that when I reached around idly, I didn’t feel any grass.

I opened my eyes to see a path in the grass, cutting through like a hedge maze, leading directly in front of me. Something in me knew she was at the end of this.

My pace was quick as I set my sights on my goal. I felt plants brushing against my shoulders, but disregarded them. With every step, I grew more convinced that nothing could stop me.

I made it a few yards ahead when that warm wind returned like last night. It started soft, but as I continued forward it picked up dramatically.

I was halted when the air was strong enough to push me back without even trying, my resistance doing nothing. I huffed, and yielded to the current, being pushed backwards onto the ground.

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theninjasanctuary · 2 years

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I'm somehow procrastinating so hard I can't even find time to look at Tumblr these days. Well, ok, I have tried to stay on top of chores, the urn burial went okay, I have been on a day trip to boyf's country estate that resulted in making currant juice 2 nights in a row, and have also visited friends for the first time since who even knows, and that was good. And since there have been flash sales and weekend discounts, I've bought more second-hand, 2 pairs of shoes (Adidas Originals in red suede + black suede heels) and a pair of Akris jeans from momox and carou (yes, after running out of things to crave on momox, I had to see whether carou and maedchenflohmarkt had anything; the latter not so much, but the former has several covetable items that are too pricy to buy right away). Considering how low my funds are, this was obviously unwise, but as always, they'll go back if they don't fit. I know I should cut the f back there, but nice clothes are a source of profound joy to me, and I'm mainly hurting my own wallet, not anybody else with this. Even so, there are very few remaining gaps in my wardrobe, literally and figuratively speaking, but I could use a dressy-but-unfussy jacket that's not a blazer nor a cardigan nor a bomber, and light-coloured dressy flats or low heels (can wait till next summer).

Also managed to be an adult about the washing machine suddenly becoming much more noisy than it was, had it hauled off to a certified repair shop, as the ball bearing might have failed (hopefully hasn't damaged anything else because I stopped using it). Am assuming the bill will be covered by warranty, I bought it less than 5 months ago, but am really hoping it is just the ball bearing, so it'll be fixed by Tuesday, as the laundry is piling the f up. Otherwise, it might take another week.

Not in the mood to work. But might have identified a driving school to consider (haven't signed up since I don't know my autumn schedule yet). I think I need to go just to feel like a bit less of a loser, and while I can afford it (ofc the shit review made me think I'm gonna be unemployed with no prospects again in a little over 2 years from now).

At least I'll be spectacularly dressed.

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vest59wrenn · 2 years

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Historic Replica Jewellery

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darklydeliciousdesires · 2 years

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Cabin in the Meadow - Part Two.

I was thrilled at the feedback this received for the first part, thank you so much!

Previous parts - Part one

Words - 3,102

Warnings - Lil’ bit of smut, lots of mourning too.

Tag list - In the comments. Please DM to be either added or removed.

“She hasn’t eaten. Have you seen her eat?”

“No, no I haven’t. She isn’t back at work yet, either. I think that would help, her going back sooner rather than later, give her something to focus on. It’s been two weeks, but she’s still so shut down.”

“Has she let you into the house again yet? She hasn’t me, or anyone else from our side of the family. She’s closing off to us all, well, except for Jackson.”

‘Just let me fucking grieve at my own pace.’

Hearing her mother and mother-in-law whispering behind her, Kate knew that they only came from a place of good, that their intentions and hearts were firmly in the right place. As she sat at her husband’s wake, though, closed off, acknowledging sympathy with a nod and a fleeting hug, all she wanted was to be by herself.

No. All she wanted was to be next to her husband, but not the cremated remains as he’d likely be now, the living and breathing Tyler. The Tyler she wouldn’t receive in an urn of her choosing up to seven days after the funeral.

Unable to bear being fussed over for a moment longer, she slipped away quietly, telling her mother she was going to use the restroom before calling an Uber, waiting outside, glad the assigned vehicle pulled up after a mere three-minute wait.

‘Tell mom I left. I just can’t bear the fussing over me any longer. Just want to be at home. Love you’ She text to her brother.

‘Okay, K. Love you too’

Simple, uncomplicated, accepting. Jackson, her brother, had been her solace since Tyler’s death, quick to point out to anyone who assumed to know better that Kate would grieve on her own schedule, without having to live up to anyone’s expectations. “Just let her be, for Christ’s sakes. She doesn’t have to satisfy anyone else. He was her husband. Let her do what she wants and not do what she doesn’t.”

Those where what he told their mom as well as Tyler’s when they’d tried to fuss around her in the days that followed her arrival home, Stalking her with food, mugs of hot milk and sympathy. All she wanted as quiet. She’d lost her only truly quiet person, the one she could sit silently with and not feel compelled to indulge in mindless chit chat.

Once home, she took off her dress and underwear, pulling on a pair of his boxers and one of his shirts she’d doused in his deodorant. He never wore cologne; he smelled good enough without it. Having something that smelled like him helped, it was her security blanket, to wear his clothes and flop down on his side of the bed, sighing sadly, her heart still shattered without him.

Snuggling into the fabric of his shirt, though, she realised it never wouldn’t be. It would likely become easier to live with, she’d become used to the burden of being widowed, but her heart would never truly mend. Looking at the shirt sleeve, she remembered the first time she’d seen him wear it, the red and blue plaid garment he’d chosen when taking her out on their first date after meeting.

****

‘I’ll pick you up at seven. Dress casual.’

All day at work, running tests on samples brought into the lab where she worked in a junior position in forensic pathology, Kate wondered where he’d be taking her, the handsome man she’d met five days previously. She was so excited, she barely ate her lunch, heading back to work and counting down the minutes. When 7pm rolled around, she couldn’t help but feel a few nerves, her mind marred slightly from the fact her last date had led to her being stood up.

Beep-beep.

“He’s prompt.” She spoke, fluffing her hair and leaving her first floor apartment, hopping down the steps and jumping into the passenger side of a large, black Mitsubishi Warrior. “Hey!”

“Hey, red. You look gorgeous.” Leaning over, he gave her a little kiss, Kate feeling her heart quicken a bit in response.

“Thanks, so do you.” He smiled, winking before pulling away from the curb.

“So, where are you taking me?”

He raised his eyebrows, shaking his head. “It’s a surprise.”

“I hate surprises.”

“I remember you telling me as much.”

She adored the playful back and forth they seemed to routinely slip into. It had happened when they first met, over text messages and now on their first official date, it hadn’t changed. “Smart ass.”

“Actually, no. I believe the term you’re looking for is flippant.”

“And that right there, that’s not you being a smart ass?” Charging him with a pointed finger, Kate bit her lip and grinned, Tyler turning left and laughing softly through his nose.

“Yeah, that was. But before I was exercising flippancy. I guess that’s hard to detect for someone who couldn’t correctly identify brevity.”

“You’ll be correctly identifying going to this secret place alone if I have much more of this.”

“Ooooh, she’s forceful.”

“Yes!”

“Save it for the bedroom.”

“Oh my god! You did not just say that to me on our first date!”

“I believe I did.”

“You’re so uncouth.”

“And you really like it.”

He had her there, Kate blushing furiously as she shook her head, looking out of the window, trying not to giggle. She couldn’t help it, gently hissing laughing eventually, Tyler reaching across to playfully squeeze her leg. “You’ll have a great time. I assure you.”

She wasn’t so sure of that when they arrived, Tyler having took her to the indoor axe throwing range. She’d never tried it, or really shown any inkling in wanting to, but Kate was game for the experience of something new. Well, once she’d gotten over a few false starts.

“Don’t grip the handle so tightly. Just raise your hand a little higher, relax and throw.”

“It’s easy for you to say! You’ve landed every single one of them!”

Of course, he had. He’d once killed a man by throwing a kukri knife at his head. If there was one thing he most definitely had, it was flawless aim.

“As will you when you stop being so tightly wound about not hitting the target yet. Remember, relax and throw.” Loosening her grip, she dropped her arm, took a deep breath, exhaling slowly as she focused on her target. Raising her arm higher, she threw it, the blade finally impregnating the wooden target with a loud clunk. “There you go!”

“I did it!”

Dancing on the spot, she clapped her success at finally managing to accomplish a flawless throw, removing the axe before Tyler sent his straight into the bullseye, a second splitting the wood right above it.

“Now you’re just showing off!”

“Nope.” Retrieving the axes, he walked back over to her, leaning down to her level and kissing her. “That’s showing off, because the group of guys two lane’s over haven’t stopped checking you out since we arrived, and you’re here with me, not them.”

“Well, feel free to show off as often as you want to.” Immediately, she received another kiss.

“Thanks, I will.” Once again, she was kissed. How her heart fluttered, knowing that he was as into her as she was him. They’d truly clicked on that first meeting, staying until closing time, walking back to hers at a snail’s pace, they were having such a good time. Much was the same that evening, too. “Come on, you’re up. Bullseye this time.”

Missing the first, she nailed the second, collecting the axes and watching Tyler take his last turn before their time was up, moving to the seating section to order food and another pitcher of non-alcoholic beer. He didn’t even make a comment about the fact she didn’t drink, other than saying he’d drink the same since he was driving. In the past, men had always interrogated her choice. Tyler couldn’t have been less invasive over it if he’d tried. He took a genuine interest in her life, though, something she thought had been hard to find.

“What was the gnarliest thing you ever had come through for testing, then?” He asked, crunching through the last few fries before the waitress took the plates in front of them away.

“This week?” He snorted laughing, realising that of course, as a forensics lab, she probably got awful things coming through all the time. “Most recently, it was a chainsaw. And yes, someone had been butchered with it. The worst ever was the blood stains on a teddy bear. Blood from the child it belonged to. I didn’t stop crying for about a day.”

Another thing she learned about him there was how empathetic he was, seeing the upset at the memory there in her face and putting his arm around her, pulling her close. It was the first time she’d ever been comforted by his scent, his bulk, his hug making her feel instantly soothed.

****

Lying on the bed, wearing that same shirt, she would have given anything to have been back there, on their first date, realising that the new guy she’d met truly was someone special. A soft, broken little sigh fluttered over her wobbling lip as she began to cry again, choked sobs stinging in her throat, the loneliness unbearable.

Her pain was intolerable, with no respite, no relief. All she wanted was her husband back, to be enveloped within his sturdy embrace. Her entire being ached ceaselessly for Tyler, and it would never end. Sitting up, she looked around their bedroom, so much of him still there. It was like he was still there, too. She didn’t have the heart to move things, like some of his wooden beaded bracelets or leather cuff where he’d left them on the nightstand before leaving for Belarus. He usually put them in the top drawer of the heavy dresser, but had left them there instead before crawling into bed with her.

Oh, that last time they were intimate. It was, as what always existed between them, intensity unmatched. It also reminded her of the first time, as well, back in her old apartment, as things had definitely become heated upon the couch.

They’d been out on their fifth date, a whole day date of breakfast in the morning followed by dune buggy racing in the afternoon, heading back to Kate’s to order takeout and enjoy a night in together. It was the first night Tyler was due to sleep over as well, which she definitely knew the connotations of. She just didn’t expect those connotations to make themselves quite so prevalent.

As soon as they’d walked through the door, it was on.

****

“Your arse looks bloody amazing in these jeans, but fuck, they don’t want me in ‘em!” Tyler panted, kissing her while trying to get his hand into the front. Even after undoing them, they were still so tight they may as well have been sprayed on. His words had Kate giggling, even more so when he climbed off the couch and began pulling them off. “For fucks sake! Did you pour yourself into them?”

She was in stitches as he yanked at the ankles, the waist, wrestling the blue denim while muttering. “I could take a FN MAG 58 machine gun apart and put it back together faster than I could get you out of these!”

Finally, he got there, her undies following before he climbed back onto the couch, Kate removing her t shirt and bra. He took a moment to enjoy her nudity, kissing her from her neck, his lips pressing a constellation across her chest, sucking her nipples as he grasped her ample breasts, mouth slipping down over her sternum, across her stomach, until he reached her...

“Tyler, no. I don’t like it.” Clamping her thighs suddenly, she couldn’t help but snort with laughter at the look on his face.

“I haven’t even done anything yet.”

“Yeah, but oral sex in general. I don’t enjoy it. Giving is great, but receiving? Nope.”

“Hmm, that’s gonna be a problem, because I very much do. What about it don’t you like?”

“It’s just...previous guys have been a bit too rough with me down there and...”

“Baby, I’m not previous guys. How about this, give me two minutes. If you don’t like it, I’ll just stick to pleasing you with my fingers. If you do, then I’ll carry on. Deal?”

She nodded, letting him part her thighs again, Tyler kissing his way up her thigh until he reached her bare mound, kissing it softly, his tongue gliding against the line of her slit, licking her gently a few times before working his way within.

Tasting her for the first time evoked a deep groan, circling her opening a few times, a pleasant tingle fluttering in his chest when he felt her legs relax, slowly dragging his tongue up to her clit, teasing it with small, soft licks. He kept everything gentle, even though the raw desire to suck on her entire cunt was a tough urge to resist, but resist he did, wanting to be different to the rest. Her breathless sighs told him he was, parting her slit with his fingers and beginning to circle her clit slowly, so slowly and softly, until he heard the beauty of her soft moan.

“Damn, that was the prettiest noise I’ve ever heard. Are the two minutes up yet?”

“I’ve no idea! Please, don’t stop!”

He chuckled, turning his head to kiss her thigh, another beautiful moan of bliss filling his ears when he took his thumb to her clit and gently rubbed it back and forth. Oh, how he knew a woman, knew exactly how to touch. He paid attention, it was very clear for Kate to realise as he returned his mouth, fingertips gliding in a soft stroke over her tummy, making her quake, his tongue lapping at her hungrily, the pressure increased a little more.

She’d never felt so aroused before, laved at expertly, her centre tingling and throbbing as she felt herself growing wetter with every lick of his tongue, her hands fisting his hair as she undulated against his mouth, lost in ecstasy. She guessed this was a definite perk in dating a man eleven years older than she; he had sexual experience in shades. He definitely knocked any other lover she’d had closer in age to her right into the shade, and so far, she’d only sampled the delights of his mouth.

“You’re too good, oh my god, you’re too good!” She cried, thighs writhing against his face, Tyler flicking his tongue over her little bud faster, sliding two fingers into her soaking heat.

“You gonna cum for me, beautiful?”

She could barely form thought at that point, his fingers hitting her so precisely, she felt like she was about to pass out. “Yes! Fuck!” She finally gritted, her body shivering violently as she unravelled against the incessant, wet heat that drove her over the edge.

“Jesus, those nails are sharp!” Kate hadn’t even been aware she’d been digging them into the back of his head, her release still rolling through her as she panted.

“Sorry, oh damnit! I drew blood!” Inspecting her nails, she saw they were red tinged at the tips, laughing nervously, squealing when he nipped her inner thigh with his teeth, pulling himself out of his jeans, rooting around in his wallet. After locating a condom, he threw them on the floor, ripping the packet open.

“Oh, I’ll get my own back. I’m about to fuck you so thoroughly, you won’t be able to walk for a week.” Her stomach flipped with excitement, taking him in, her new boyfriend nude for the first time, a few extra flips rippling her insides when she saw the size of the cock he duly slid into her, gasping as she was filled, her thighs widening instinctively to receive his body as he leaned down and kissed her with lustful thirst.

“Ahhhh, fuck, you’re really big!”

Immediately, his wide grin made her giggle. “Yeah, I know.”

“And so - oh, that feels amazing - modest!”

He kissed her into silence, stroking her neck as his hips drove in a rhythmic roll against her, cock slipping into her deeply, her slick muscles clenching on him. The slow drag of his hardness had her aching, throbbing, arching into him, her body at the mercy of his completely, their hands gliding over one another, kisses unrelenting.

Pleasure skirred through her, the whorl in her beginning to tighten as her nails grazed his broad, scar-littered back. Oh, he knew that he was doing. He was so good, she felt as if she was barely hanging onto the cusp of her consciousness, Tyler moving to his knees and pulling her legs over his shoulders, beginning to pound into her keenly, winking at her as he witnessed her losing control.

Simply, it was perfect. Kate had never cum from penetrative sex before, but that night, Tyler ground himself into her until she’d reached that height five times in the three separate sexual intervals they’d enjoyed, twice on the couch and three times in bed. As predicted, she had trouble walking afterwards, wobbling into her dresser and having her boyfriend in hysterics.

In the morning, he woke her up by going down on her, Kate’s sleepy, sex-exhausted body lighting up again as she came hard against his tongue, thinking it the best incentive she’d ever received to open her eyes and rouse from the comfort of slumber. He was just...amazing.

****

Was.

Lying there, alone, she thought she’d never feel the prickle of arousal making her libido stir ever again, but of course, thinking of the man who made it roar like a bonfire would always cause the heat swell within her.

Of course, it was outweighed, though. Outweighed by the fact she’d never be intimate with her husband again. And there once more was the giant tidal wave of grief crashing against her shore. The man whom she had the most incredible sexual connection with was never coming back.

Looking up at the photograph on the dresser, one they’d taken about three months after they’d met, Kate felt herself rise up to fetch it, flopping back down with the frame in her arms.

“I miss you so much. In each and every way a wife can miss her husband.”

With the picture clutched to her chest, she lay in the same haze, remembering all that was, unable to even imagine a life going forward without him.

#tyler rake #tyler rake smut #tyler rake fanfiction #tyler rake fanfic #tyler rake fic #tyler rake x ofc #tyler rake x oc #chris hemsworth #chris hemsworth smut #chris hemsworth fanfiction #chris hemsworth fanfic #chris hemsworth fic #chris hemsworth x ofc #chris hemsworth x oc #chris hemsworth characters #extraction #extraction fanfiction #extraction fanfic #extraction fic

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lokeanwelcomingcommittee · 3 years

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Hi, I saw your response to the ask about the Urnes Snakes and followed the link you posted about it, and saw a post linked there about the symbology for Loki, but the link said the post wasn't found. Do you still have a post about the symbols representing him (not necessarily the things associated with him, but actual symbology used, both historically and contemporarily?)

Hi!

So, the thing to bear in mind is that Norse studies is not Classical studies. We know very little about how pre-Christian Norse religion was practiced, and that includes their religious symbols. Even the ones commonly used by modern Heathens may not mean what they are used to represent today. For example, we aren't sure what the Valknut was meant to represent at all, if anything.

We also don't have much solid evidence for cultus surrounding Loki period, let alone how it would have been done or what symbols would have been used. We do have some potential Viking Age depictions, though, if that'd be helpful. Most of the likely ones are listed in this post. There's also this pendant, assuming you believe the lines around the mouth are supposed to be stitched lips as opposed to teeth. Because the art is so stylized, it's very difficult to nail down a definite depiction of anyone.

In terms of contemporary Lokeans, we have a list of symbols and associations listed in this post. I have genuinely seen everything on that list that can be physically represented used as a symbol in artwork or on an altar at some point, though some are more common than others. If you want, you can also find the post from the broken link you mentioned here, as it was just a matter of the OP changing the blog's URL.

I've also seen a ton of individual, idiosyncratic things that are used exclusively by a single devotee. As you might expect, Lokeans aren't all that big on orthodoxy. I suspect there isn't much of a modern common symbolic language because a significant portion of devotees don't particularly want one.

- Mod E

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crowmagus · 2 years

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Vigil's End

60 miles north of Old Selusa is an unassuming town. The buildings there are made of wood, the people are calm and extremely accommodating, though there is a sense of urgency to their actions. They are a common folk, dressed in homespun linens, with tools which bear the mark of industries in the Domain of the Worm, little craftsmanship or pride to take note of.

Travelers through this town are rare, it lies off of any of the main roads and is only ever passed through by those exploring the ruins which trim the mountains at the edge of what is now the City of Glass.

The amenities of the town - mainly the common house and kitchen are all on the edge of town, few ever wander deeper - through the unassuming roads leading deeper into the snow capped trees.

One curious traveler, a contrarian explorer by nature, stole away down one of these dirt paths in search of a reload for his pipe, and instead found himself in a second town - Vigil.

The buildings were of similar design to the hamlet he had just come from, except for one. At the center of the town was a stone structure of undeniably ancient design, it was immaculate - lacking the usual signs of entropy you would find on the ruins from this building’s era.

The people were mostly similarly dressed, except for a handful of individuals standing as still as statues around and within the aged temple. They were dressed in flowing white garments, adorned with plates and chains of the finest silver. Each grasping spears of equal majesty - engraved with runes whose meanings had been lost millenia ago, and whose craftsmanship could not be met by any master who lived today.

The traveler was caught by one of these guards, and interrogated at great length. He was, by his own account, subjected to all manner of bizarre tests. At one point, he was forced to bathe in a silver tub in view of a handful of the strange warrior-priests, another time he recalls being asked to recite his name, his most painful memory, and any state or religious affiliations into a strange urn which spoke them back to him in a distorted voice.

He was released that same day, and told he could leave if he wished - but being the curious young man that he was, he stayed, interested in learning more about the people here and what their purpose was.

The guards clothed in white didn’t seem to be religious as the traveler initially thought. Typically where you see spotless white linens and silver, you assume that you are in the domain of Varla, the fallen goddess of purity. Instead, they seemed to have a single-minded obsession with maintaining and guarding the ancient temple.

Some of the warrior priests - those who stood outside the temple’s entrance, rotated out to a new set every week. No breaks were taken to sleep, to eat, or to recreate. Those who emerged from the mouth of the temple seemed to swap out every few days. In total, there were about 12 of these individuals.

In their off time, they dressed in the plain clothes of the people of the township, they ate, they seemed to sleep, and they lived normal lives. The traveler made friends with one of them - a man with, as he described it ‘an old and distinguished name, passed down through his family’.

Over their two year friendship, our protagonist learned that this township had existed as long as the building in the center of it. Its purpose is to sustain the temple, to keep watch over it, to prevent outsiders from knowing of its existence.

The traveler had his suspicions about the temple confirmed. In the true fashion of the ancients, there was a being locked away in the temple. To be more specific, a demon, which seems laughable to the modern man. The very tools which the people of the township used were likely made by demons, as were most of the Traveler’s clothes.

However, it was not always like this. There was a time, the guard said, when the only demons which could enter our realm were those whose power was unmatched, and whose only desire was desolation.

The very mountains that towered over the temple were formed by the footfall of the ancient being. Entire cities were destroyed with a glance, family lines were ended, years of knowledge razed in an instant.

Eventually, the demon was subdued, sealed within the stones of this ancient temple. Armies used to keep vigil over it, great heroes used to consider it an honor to spend a night keeping watch. Kings and emperors would donate vast sums of money to keep the garrison strong and well fed.

However, as time moved forward, the town was forgotten. The atrocities of the being were forgotten, and now all that remained were what the traveler now saw. Though he wasn’t sure he believed the story, he had fallen in love and chose to stay.

A year later, the Kathari Infantry moved through the area - probing the borders of the Domain of the Worm. The denizens of the township were caught in a skirmish, and despite their impressive arms and armor, were slaughtered.

The traveler, despite his love, his curiosity, and his respect, fled at the first sound of gunfire.

The town was destroyed, the temple was temporarily used as a forward operating base, before being abandoned in the following months.

The traveler returned, and for the first time climbed the stairs of the temple, and stood in the center of it. The floors were a plain white marble, the walls as well except for the pock marks left by battle.

He laid his palms on the ground, and felt nothing. No ancient deity spoke to him, no ghosts absolved him of his cowardice. He was alone, and his watch began.

#magus #world building #creative writing #forced myself to write and post this even though I am not a huge fan of it #BUT the people at Vigil were one of the first things I thought about when building the magus world 100000 years ago so I am glad they get #something

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cassianus · 3 years

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Feast of the Most Precious Blood of Our Lord Jesus Christ

Presence of God - O Jesus who redeemed me by Your Precious Blood, grant that it may produce all its fruit in me.

Meditation:

1. In today’s liturgy the majestic figure of Jesus stands before us as that of a kind who presents himself to his people robed in his royal mantle. The first antiphon of Vespers says: ‘Who is this that cometh . . . with dyed garments? This beautiful one in his robe’ But the mantle Jesus wears is not beautiful by reason of fine line or purple, but rather because it is sprinkled with His Blood, which was shed for our sins. ‘He was clothed in a robe sprinkled with blood, and His Name is called the Word of God’. That blood which the Word, when He became incarnate, took from our human nature, He gave back to us - every drop of it - as the price of our redemption. And He gave it back, not as if constrained by anyone, but freely, because He willed to, because He loved us. ‘Christ . . . hath loved us,’ says St. John, ‘and washed us from our sins in His own Blood’. All the mysteries of our redemption are mysteries of love; and, therefore, all urge us to love. But the one on which we meditate today is especially moving, since it makes us consider the Redemption from its most terrible aspect: the shedding of the Blood of Jesus, which, from Calvary, flowed forth to crimson the whole world, to sprinkle all souls. Christ has redeemed us, ‘neither by the blood of goats or of calves, but by His own Blood,’ St. Paul exclaims in the Epistle (Heb 9, 11-15). This is a great truth which, if really understood, would more than suffice to make us genuine saints. We must have a ‘sense’ of Christ’s blood, that Blood which He shed to the last drop for us, and which, through the Sacraments, especially penance, continually flows over our souls to cleanse them, purify them and enrich them with the infinite merits of the Redeemer. ‘Bathe in His Blood, immerse yourself in His Blood, clothe yourself in the Blood of Christ,’ was St. Catherine of Siena’s continual cry.

2. In the Office of the day, St. Paul earnestly invites us to correspond with Christ’s gift. ‘Jesus . . . that He might sanctify the people by His own Blood, suffered outside the gate. Let us go forth therefore to Him . . . bearing His reproach.’ If we want the Blood of Christ to bear all its fruit in us, we must unite our own blood with it. His alone is most precious, so precious that a single drop is sufficient to save the whole world; nevertheless, Jesus, as always, wants us to add our little share, our contribution of suffering and sacrifice, ‘bearing His reproach.’ If we are sincere we will have to admit that we do all in our power to escape Christ’s shame and disgrace. A lack of of consideration, a slight offense, a cutting word, are all that it takes to arouse our passions. How can we say that we know how to share in Christ’s humiliations? Behold our divine Master treated like a malefactor, dragged amidst the coarse insults of the soldiers outside the gate of Jerusalem and there crucified between two thieves! And we? What part do we take in His Passion? How do we share in His reproach?

To redeem us, ‘Jesus . . . endured the Cross, despising the shame . . . ‘ and ‘you,’ St. Paul reproaches us, ‘have not yet resisted unto blood, striving against sin’ (Heb. 12:2-4). Can we say that we know how to struggle ‘unto blood’ to overcome our faults, our pride, our self-love? Oh! how weak and cowardly we are in the struggle, how self-indulgent and full of pity for ourselves, especially for our pride! Jesus, Innocence itself, expiated our sins even unto a blood, ignominious death! We, the guilty ones, far from atoning for our faults unto blood, cannot even sacrifice our self-love. The blood which flows from sincere, total renunciation of self, from humble generous acceptance of everything that mortifies, breaks, and destroys our pride: this is the blood which Jesus asks us to unite with His! The Precious Blood of Jesus will give us strength to do so, ‘for the soul which becomes inebriated and inundated by the Blood of Christ, is clothed with true and genuine virtue’ (St. Catherine of Siena).

Colloquy:

‘O sweet Jesus, my Love, to strengthen my soul and to rescue it from the weakness into which it has fallen, You have built a wall around it, and have mixed the mortar with Your Blood, confirming my soul and uniting it to the sweet will and charity of God! Jesus as lime mixed with water is placed between stones to cement them together, so You, O God, have placed between Your creature and Yourself, the Blood of Your only-begotten Son, cemented with the divine lime of the fired of ardent charity, in such a way that there is no blood without fire, nor fire without Blood. Your Blood was shed, O Christ, by the fire of love!’ (St. Catherine of Siena).

‘I adore You, O Precious Blood of Jesus, flower of creation, fruit of virginity, ineffable instrument of the Holy Spirit, and I rejoice at the thought that You came from the drop of virginal blood on which eternal Love impressed its movement; You were assumed by the Word and deified in His person. I am overcome with emotion when I think of Your passing from the Blessed Virgin's heart into the heart of the Word, and, being vivified by the breath of the Divinity, becoming adorable because You became the Blood of God.

I adore You enclosed in the veins of Jesus, preserved in His humanity like the manna in the golden urn, the memorial of the eternal Redemption which He accomplished during the days of His earthly life. I adore You, Blood of the new, eternal Testament, flowing from the veins of Jesus in Gethsemane, from the flesh torn by scourges in the Praetorium, from His pierced hands and feet and from His opened side on Golgotha. I adore You in the Sacraments, in the Eucharist, where I know You are substantially present....

I place my trust in You, O adorable Blood, our Redemption, our regeneration. Fall, drop by drop, into the hearts that have wandered from You and soften their hardness.

O adorable Blood of Jesus, wash our stains, save us from the anger of the avenging angel. Irrigate the Church; make her fruitful with Apostles and miracle-workers, enrich her with souls that are holy, pure and radiant with divine beauty’ (St. Albert the Great).

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ivy-kissobryos · 3 years

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Charon, the Lord of Death

According to Britannica:

In Etruscan mythology [Charon] was known as Charun and appeared as a death demon, armed with a hammer. Eventually he came to be regarded as the image of death and of the world below. As such he survives in Charos, or Charontas, the angel of death in modern Greek folklore.

This is further explored in Modern Greek folklore and ancient Greek religion: a study in survivals by John Cuthbert Lawson. According to Lawson:

There is no ancient deity whose name is so frequently on the lips of the modern peasant as that of Charon. About Charos the peasants will always, according to my experience, converse freely. Neither superstitious awe nor fear of ridicule imposes any restraint. They feel perhaps that the existence of Charos is one of the stern facts which men must face; and even the more educated classes retain sometimes, I think, an instinctive fear of making light of his name, lest he should assert his reality. For Charos is Death. He is not now, what classical literature would have him to be, merely the ferryman of the Styx. He is the god of death and of the lower world.

Lawson then goes on to describe how the importance of Charos has been elevated, for ‘Hades is no longer a person but a place, the realm over which Charos rules’. The author then goes into details surrounding Charos’ family.

On his physical depiction:

Sometimes he is depicted as an old man, tall and spare, white of hair and harsh of feature; but more often he is a lusty warrior, with locks of raven-black or gleaming gold [...] ‘his glance is as lightning and his face as fire, his shoulders are like twin mountains and his head like a tower’. His raiment is usually black as befits the lord of death, but anon it is depicted bright as his sunlit hair, for though he brings death he is a god and glorious.

On his functions, Lawson states:

His functions are clearly defined. He visits this upper world to carry off those whose allotted time has run, and guards them in the lower world as in a prison whose keys they vainly essay to steal and to escape therefrom. But the spirit in which he performs those duties varies according as he is conceived to be a free agent responsible to none or merely a minister of the supreme God. Which of these is the true conception is a question to which the common-folk as a whole have given no final answer; and the character of Charos consequently depends upon the view locally preferred.

The depiction of Charos has also been influenced by Christianity.

Those who regard him as simply the servant and messenger of God, find no difficulty in accommodating him to his Christian surroundings; for, as I have said, the peasant does not distinguish between the Christian and the pagan elements in his faith which together make his polytheism so luxuriant. We have already seen Charos' name with the prefix of ‘saint’; and though this Christian title is not often accorded him, yet his name appears commonly on tomb-stones in Christian churchyards. At Leonidi, on the east coast of the Peloponnese, I noted the couplet: 'Me too Charos pitied not but took, even me the fondly-cherished flower of my home.'

So too in popular story and song he is represented as working in concord with the Angels and Archangels, to whom sometimes falls the task of carrying children to his realm-. Indeed one of the archangels, Michael, who as we saw above has ousted Hermes, the escorter of souls, and assumed his functions, is charged with exactly the same duties as Charos in the conveyance of men's souls to the nether world, so that in popular parlance the phrases ‘he is wrestling with Charos’ and 'he is struggling with an angel' are both alike used of a man in his death-agony.

The author goes on to describe how the Christianized conception of Charon has made him appear kinder, as evidenced by many folk tales where it is shown that:

‘The duties imposed upon him by the will of God are sometimes repugnant to him, and he would willingly spare those whom he is sent to slay’

Some folk tales are then described. Also:

‘Sometimes then the doomed man will seek to tempt Charos with meat and drink, that he may grant a few hours' delay, but against offers of hospitality he is obdurate. Or again his victim refuses to yield to death 'without weakness or sickness' and challenges him to a trial of athletic skill, in wrestling or leaping, whereon each shall stake his own soul. And to this Charos sometimes gives consent, for he knows that he will.

In contrast...

The other and more pagan conception of Charos excludes all traits of kindness and mercy; and men do not stint the expression of their hatred of him. He is 'black,' 'bitter,' 'hateful’. He is the merciless potentate of the nether world, independent of the God of heaven, equally powerful in his own domain, but more terrible, more inexorable: for his work is death and his abode is Hades. Thence he issues forth at will, as a hunter to the chase. ‘Against the wounds that Charos deals herbs avail not, physicians give no cure, nor saints protection’ [...] But most commonly he is the warrior preeminent in all manner of prowess—archer, wrestler, horseman.

Charos is sometimes depicted to be collecting souls to adorn his kingdom. Examples being:

[...] he gathers children from the earth to be the flowers of it and young men to be its tall slim cypresses; more rarely he is a vintager, and tramples men in his vat that their blood may be his red wine, or again he carries a sickle and reaps a human harvest.

It became evident that ‘Charos of modern Greece would seem to have little in common with the Charon of ancient Greece’. Fauriel believes that ‘the usual tendencies of tradition have been reversed, in that it is the name that has survived, while the attributes have been changed’. However, Lawson disagrees. He states that:

I suspect that in ancient times the literary presentation of Charon was far more circumscribed than the popular, and that out of a profusion of imaginative portraitures as varied as those seen in the folk-songs of to-day one aspect of Charon became accepted among educated men as the correct and fashionable presentment. Hades was, in literature, the despot of the lower world, and for Charon no place could be found save that of ferryman. But this, I think, was only one out of the many guises in which the ancient Charon was figured by popular imagination; for at the present day the remnants of such a conception are small, in spite of the fact that there has remained a custom which should have kept it alive—the custom of putting a coin in the mouth of the dead.

In Alcestis, a play written by Euripides, Death seemed to have taken on the role of Charon, to the point where ‘the copyist of one of the extant manuscripts of the Alcestis was so impressed with the likeness of Death to Charon as he knew him, that he altered the name of the dramatis persona accordingly’. The conception of Charon as a Lord of Death occurs even further back than that though.

On the Etruscan Charun:

Hesychius states that the title [greek word] was shared by two gods, Charon and Uranus. Charon therefore, as son of Acmon and brother of Uranus, is earlier by two long generations of gods than Zeus himself, and belongs to the old Pelasgian order of deities. Was Charon then the god of death among the old Pelasgian population of Greece, before ever the name of Hades or Pluto had been invented or imported? Yes, if the corroboration from another Pelasgian source, the Etruscans, is to count for anything. On an Etruscan monument figures the god of death with the inscription 'Charun'; and the same person is frequently depicted on urns, sarcophagi, and vases [...] In appearance he is most often an old bearded man (though a more youthful type is also known) bearing an axe or mallet, and more rarely a sword as well, wherewith he pursues men and slays them. In effect the Etruscan Charun closely corresponds with the modern Greek Charos in functions as well as in name.

In classical times the primitive conception of Charon was in abeyance. Hades had assumed the reins of government in the nether world; and a literary legend, which confined Charon to the work of ferryman, had gained vogue and supplanted or rather temporarily suppressed the older conception. But this version, it appears, never gained complete mastery of the popular imagination, and to the common-folk of Greece from the Pelasgian era down to this day Charon has ever been more warrior than ferryman, and his equipment an axe or sword or bow rather than a pair of sculls. More is to be learnt of the real Charon of antiquity from modern folk-lore than from all the allusions of classical literature.

#charondeity #charon #charun #charos #hellenic community #etruscan

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unaskedformagnustheories · 4 years

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UNASKED FOR MAGNUS THEORY #4: THE SILENT

This week’s theory is one of my more self-indulgent. It’s also probably being proven wrong as I type. So if you see this and you’ve listened to MAG 181 already, try not to laugh at me too badly. I just want to get it down before I have to refile this Google Doc under “dead wrong” tomorrow. What is this crazy, semi-coherent theory you ask? Well? Basically I think Adelard Dekker, Mikaele Salesa, Gertrude Robinson(?), Gerard Keay, Christopher Meyer (and maybe the coroner’s uncle from MAG 36 and Alard Dupont) might have been part of an underground society that figured out how to weaponize the powers by fragmenting/channeling multiple entities at the same time - evading attention while manipulating things to their own end.

Read on for my decent into madness.

EXHIBIT A: The Key of Solomon. Acquired by Gertrude Robinson in 2007, The Key of Solomon caught my eye with the following passage - found on a torn scrap of paper found by The Archivist in his exploration of the tunnels under The Magnus Institute (MAG 70): “They have for adversaries the Satariel, or concealers, the Demons of absurdity, of intellectual inertia, and of Mystery”. While I don’t think actual demons will come into play this late in the game, this is a very interesting quote taken from a book that we later learn was “one of the few volumes that contained elements from several powers” (MAG 80). In that same episode Leitner confirms the book was destroyed after proving itself to be too volatile, but could it be Gertrude learned a few tricks before disposing of the thing? The person who told Jurgen Leitner about the books called them “coded spell books”, and while Leitner seemed dismissive of this description, I wonder if there’s a kernel of truth in the simplification.

EXHIBIT B: We know that opposing powers can cancel each other out. Gertrude used a man touched by The Vast to stop The Buried’s ‘Sunken Sky’ ritual. Heck, she contemplated using Gerry to stop The Unknowing because of his affiliation with The Eye. The Ceaseless Watcher has trouble seeing anything to do with The Dark, etc., etc., but what happens when you combine three or more powers? Answer: silence. Like Smirke’s buildings, and Breekon & Hope’s depot after it’s been cleared out - places where multiple powers interact are described as empty. Silent. Almost as if they can’t exist in one space without creating some sort of self-destructive feedback loop. Is it so impossible to think someone with enough canny could channel that? Use it for their own purposes? EXHIBIT C: Adelard Dekker. In MAG 63 whilst trapping the Not-Them in a table, the statement-giver observes that Dekker’s lips were “moving rapidly though no sound came out of them”. In other words, he was silent. Somehow managing to wield a power strong enough to actively contain the creature. It’s potentially a stretch, but Jon also notices Not!Sasha has torn strips of paper when he goes rifling in her desk (MAG 57). We know that Not!Sasha went poking about the tunnels as well. Is it possible she also took interest in the remains of The Key of Solomon? Was she trying to understand or gird herself against whatever had left her vulnerable when she was bound?

[Archivist’s Note: Dekker is also described as wearing an outfit similar to the one Gerry Keay is found in when he arrives at St. Thomas’ with Diego Molina. It might be a bit on the nose to assume there’s a uniform if these folks are as organized as I’m making them out to be (they could be completely free agents who stumbled on the same hack), but I’m also not saying there isn’t.] EXHIBIT D: Gerry Keay’s poster. One of the first times we see our collective dead gay goth son (MAG 4) the statement giver comments on a poster supposedly painted by Mr. Keay bearing the caption: “Grant us the sight that we may not know. Grant us the scent that we may not catch. Grant us the sound that we may not call”. Tacked onto the bottom of a giant eye, the painting seems to only lend itself to one entity, but we know Gerry never fully gave himself to The Eye and the caption seems to speak to concealment. To silence. Even mysterious scents seem to be a reoccurring phenomena in the Magnus universe in places touched by more than one power. Did he know more than he let on when he met Gertrude? Do I maybe just want his last thoughts to be more resonant? “[His mother] would not claim his last moment. He was silent” (MAG 63).

EXHIBIT E: When Gerry wakes up in St. Thomas he’s missing both a red-leather bound book, and a brass amulet (I need to make a separate post about how I think brass is used to trap/contain the entities at some point), but for now I’m mostly interested in the fact that he tells the nurse ‘Yes. For you, better beholding than the lightless flame” as if he has a choice. As if he has any modicum of control on what happens next.

CONCLUSION: This tinfoil hat really is tight. I might have to have it surgically removed. I know I didn’t really get into how Salesa is involved (really, it’s mostly because Annabelle Cane has taken an interest), or how I think he was meeting Alard Dupont in 1982 when Trevor Herbert killed him, or that I suspect if Gertrude was part of the gang, she went rogue and Salesa (and maybe Adelard?) faked his own death when they realized she was more of a threat than an ally. As always, I am very much aware that I’m probably over-complicating things and just need to go take a nap. SUPPLEMENTAL: I lied. I’m going to give a quick and dirty version of why I think brass is a method of containing the entities here:

1. Gerry’s brass pendant (MAG 12). 2. Brass grate covering the entrance to the Serapeum of Alexandria (MAG 53) 3. Brass boxes in Christopher Meyer’s house, holding assorted artifacts touched by the entities (MAG 60) 4. Brass urn requested by John Amherst (MAG 36) - this one’s odd because it’s requested by John Amherst, but if the coroner’s uncle who seems to know more than he’s letting on is a part of this same secret society here, Amherst might just be taunting him. Rubbing his face in it, as it were. 5. The Sarcophagus wrapped in copper bands (MAG 64). Copper, yes, but brass is an alloy made from combining copper & zinc, so this might just be an early attempt. 6. A brass handle is on the door containing the first victim from MAG 86, Tucked in. It is worth noting that the statement giver here, was convinced someone else had been in the house before he called the police. A belief that is ignored/dismissed. Could it have been someone we know trying to trap the beast? SUPPLEMENTAL TO THE SUPPLEMENTAL: In MAG 95, Basira is seen reading “Introduction to Alchemy” - talking about Venus and the various properties of copper. If there is something here, is she hip to the trade secret? She’s certainly extremely good at being silent/popping up without people noticing her, but I have no idea if it’s intentional, or if she’s just stumbled across something. Seriously, if you’ve made it this far, thank you for listening to my TED talk. You’re awesome. I’m insane, and I don’t know how the eff you pulled something sensible from that cesspool of text. but it’s fun not to be in this alone! Cheers

#the silent #tma #tma theories #the magnus archives #jon sims #jonathin sims #gerry keay #mikaele salesa #adelard dekker #gertrude robinson #basira hussain #the key of solomon #getting down to brass tacks #no?#that pun was awful?#alrighty #i'll be seeing myself out

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jackdawyt · 4 years

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Again, midnight snow, pine forest, lanterns, etc. It’s the same ambiance. When Mark Darrah showed this 2019 tease, he shared an article questioning if snow can appear on the equator, the article proved that areas that are on the equator can have snow. We can successfully say that our clowning wasn’t all for nothing! We honked and brigaded the circus of Dragon Age clowns together, and BioWare graced us with exactly 12 seconds of Dragon Age 4 in-engine shots. Which at the bear minimum is something that we feral clowns can sink our teeth into.

With that said, first and foremost, we can confirm this footage was Dragon Age related. Not only that, but it’s actually next gen work-in-progress, as John Epler confirmed.

With Dragon Age 4 being built for next gen, we can see the beauty of the Frostbite Engine’s graphical fidelity:

Lighting, ray-tracing, blooms, shadows, depth of field, upscaled texture quality, etc. The evolution of the Frostbite engine is apparent, the game looks stunning already! And there’s an overall tone of dark fantasy, the world is saturated in this gothic aesthetic, and I love it!

The midnight snow, spooky atmosphere, eroding corruption and terrifying amounts of red lyrium and fungus.

As far as initial impressions go, Dragon Age 4 looks dark, like Tevinter Nights dark! That’s something I know for a fact we all want to see, so we’re excited for that.

Let’s talk about the three shots we got, and what they tell us about the next Dragon Age game, at least what we could make out.

Location

Upon impact, this first shot reminded me of Mark Darrah’s 2019 in-game screenshot tease:

Again, midnight snow, pine forest, lanterns, etc. It’s the same ambiance.

When Mark Darrah showed this 2019 tease, he shared an article questioning if snow can appear on the equator, the article proved that areas that are on the equator can have snow.

For the uninitiated, Tevinter is in the Southern Hemisphere, whereas Ferelden and Orlais are in the Northern Hemisphere.

When Mark Darrah shared this article, it explained that his 360p tease was revealing a location that’s on the equator given the snow, we all assumed it was Tevinter, but maybe not.

Both Mark’s screenshot and this new in-game shot look like they’re in the same area. So, where could this moonlit, gloomy area be?

Well, it could be Tevinter, probably southern Tevinter closer to the equator, or it could be Northern Ferelden because we can see plenty of tidbits relating to Ferelden culture.

For instance, we can see recognisable Ferelden totems and elven urns resembling their burial rites. This at least speaks on the location’s purpose, or at least the inhabitants of the area, either present or past.

The Tree

Upon inspection, the tree seemingly has red lyrium roots sprawling from the base. While the top is leafless and devoid of life. Perhaps red lyrium from the ground has begun eroding even more life, as red lyrium carries the blight onto anything that is living. We can only expect more corrosion and corruption of natural life throughout Thedas.

Trees; in particular, have a lot of representation and meaning in Dragon Age, especially ones as wicked and old as this tree we see in the tease.

One of the biggest predictions at the moment is that this tree is a vhenadahl. A generational tree of the elven people, that means ‘home tree’, essentially it represents arlathlan and the elven people. Although there is plenty of merit and meaning behind that, I don’t think this tree is a vhenadahl.

Vhenadahl’s are generally displayed in elven alienages providing comfort to the city elves. This is certainly not that given the surrounding area. Even the burial urns prove that this tree acted as something else. But what? Perhaps it was a flourishing funeral garden, once a safe place for those to mourn, now corrupted with blight?

Mythal has also been represented as a tree because of her vallaslin. Which resembles leafless branches, and has the same depiction of that tree on Flemeth’s True Grimoire.

If we look beneath the tree, the urns with skulls are shown a lot in elvhen ruins and near elvhen artifacts. Perhaps this tree resembled something from Ancient Arlathan and could've been an old oak that became lifeless due to the blight, much of what is suspected about the death of Mythal...

There’s a codex on “The Oak” that relates to the constellation ‘Fervanis’, it’s represented by a towering tree with leafless branches that harkens back to the earliest of human tribes. They followed animistic beliefs, that nature and humans were one, and both equal. This was the main belief before the rise of the Old God’s worship and creation of the Tevinter Imperium.

However, others believe that the constellation ‘Fervanis’ is of the elven people – specifically, the depiction of Andruil herself, the goddess of the hunt. Another connection to the ancient elves...

With that, this tree could resemble many things going forward, there’s symbolism in everything when it comes to Dragon Age as far as I’m concerned. There was even a tree in The Dread Wolf Rises trailer... so both trees could share the same connotation.

As a final note on this shot, we see crow-like-bird's flutter from the tree... Jackdaw’s confirmed for Dragon Age 4? CAW! Moving on to the next shot.

Structure

The chapel (as we are calling it) and the fortress in the background are very Ferelden in design. The fortress is identical to Redcliffe Castle, whereas the chapel resembles Skyhold’s main hall to some degree.

Tevinter architecture follows more spiky, oriental designs using precious stones and metals. None of those attributes appear in these structures, they’re most certainly Ferelden.

Location

There’s a small trail of snow linking that this is a continuation of the previous shot. With the tree to the left, and the fort behind, it seems both shots share the same moon.

Speaking of the sky, we can see the healed Breach just yonder, perhaps hinting that this location is relatively close to the Frostback Mountains? Is this fortress settled in the highest points of Ferelden considering the Inquisitor sealed the Breach there?

This fortress has been ransacked, as we can see it’s flooded, falling apart and has abomination/ darkspawn flesh bags.... Perhaps the blight has spread throughout the area with the red lyrium’s growth?

Just like the tree, red lyrium has grown into this fort, perverting everything it touches. The corruption of Red lyrium is a common theme throughout this tease.

If it’s not Ferelden, then where? Estwatch is an island just off the coast of the Free Marches, located directly on the Equator. Built originally by the Imperium, it’s ‘World of Thedas’ depiction looks very close to this stronghold. However, the chances of this being Estwatch is likely uncommon, but in Dragon Age, everything is in the realm of possibility.

But who knows, it could very well be the Frostbacks? Maybe we’ll revisit Skyhold/Temple of Sacred Ashes once more to see what Pride had Wrought...

Connection

The fortress behind emits an ooze of red lyrium, is this fortress connected to the following red lyrium shot shown? Personally, we believe each of these locations are connected. And so, that’s where this red lyrium shot takes place?

As we can see this location is trickling with red lyrium and corruption, it’s chaotic to say the least. No wonder you can see the glowing from miles away.

Red Lyrium Organism

This organism (as we’re calling it) in the middle has been the talk of the entire carnival. There’s a lot to dissect given the centre part of this shot.

At first, this organism looked like a decaying, yet familiar Red Lyrium Idol. It carries the shape and figure of the idol, however bloated beyond belief. Perhaps the red lyrium from the idol has grown into a tumultuous form, spreading throughout the area and that has caused the mass spread of the blight throughout the landscape.

Or it could be a Titan vein/heart/aspect of a Titan, however, not just any Titan, a blighted Titan. And that’s why so much red lyrium has spread throughout each of the shots, as it’s grown in increasing values, corrupting everything living in the vicinity.

One must ask, what is the purpose behind all of this red lyrium? It comes down to good ol’ Chuckes of course!

As we know red lyrium weakens the Veil. Solas can use the substance to constantly weaken the Veil, until it is destroyed. This blighted Titan heart could be the beginning of this plan.

Since red lyrium is the blood of the Titans and it carries the blight, perhaps this heart is the origin of the next blight.

Perhaps if this organism isn’t a Titan heart, nor the Red Lyrium Idol, it could be a grotesque, vile monster that awaits us. Thriving on the red lyrium and mushrooms, enveloped in a cocoon... waiting for its next meal.

The area surrounding the organism has gruesome bodies and twisted figures that are reminiscent of the Fade. Yet we can see the sky and trees in the background. So, we’re clearly not in the Fade, right? Unless we’re already doomed and the waking world and the Fade are one...

The mushrooms share a resemblance with standard deep mushrooms, could red lyrium have infected them with the blight, corrupting them? Are we facing against terrifying fungi’s in the next game? Can we eat them?

Deep mushroom harvesting is usually a dangerous task because it can lead to darkspawn. Apparently almost all the deep mushrooms tend to carry the darkspawn's corruption, however are not contagious. So no, I wouldn’t suggest eating them...

The torn down fortress once more follows a (you guessed it) Ferelden structure. This entire shot reminds me of the Temple of Sacred Ashes after Corypheus destroyed the landscape during his fight.

We can see the tip of the mountains in this shot, and they look like the Frostbacks. So, it’s most likely not in Tevinter, if we compare the Ferelden and Tevinter mountains:

Fereldan’s are like the Rocky mountains:

Tevinter’s are like the San Juan mountains:

Both very distinct from each other.

This shot as a whole is rather ambiguous... it feels like something we haven’t seen before... almost alien. I feel like each scene is taking place in Fereldan, however, I’m very sceptical considering Tevinter is the main location of the game given Trespasser’s ending, Tevinter Nights and Joplin’s setting.

Honestly, I can’t wait to just explore more, this tease has given me a glimpse at what we can come to expect! Regardless, it’s been super fun to don the tinfoil on actual Dragon Age 4 related-content!

Although this tease was small, we may have something soon, depending on when soon is. According to EA/BioWare’s community manager, they said: “Soon BioWare fans, soon.” followed up with “I mean... my soon always comes with a ™. So, who really knows.”

Perhaps the next official tease will be a title reveal? That’s what I’m thinking at least. In any regard, I’ll be covering this and more recent tweets in my next news video! Let us know if we missed anything that you guys caught, and tell us your thoughts down below regarding this tiny tease and Dragon Age 4

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prisoncitystories · 4 years

Text

Fiction: Just Another Day at the Office

The smoke from the cigarette wafted freely through the air like the sultry melody of the dingy saxophone on the radio. I, however, was tied to a chair.

“What shall we do with the pig, Ms. Morgana?” The thug in the dragon mask said to his partner.

“Surely, we can have a little fun before we gut him, Mr. Pendragon,” Ms. Morgana replied. The pair are part of the Round Table Gang, the latest colorful characters to hit the city with their own particular brand of crime. Of course, they chose the boring task of robbing banks but really who’s keeping track, right?

“Fun, huh? What are we playing? Parcheesi?” I say, with a smirk. Pendragon rears up a fist and drives it right into my gut. I feel his knuckles press against the skin through my shirt. Thankfully, this isn’t my first rodeo.

“Quiet, pig!” Pendragon said. “How about a different game? Five finger fillet?” Pendragon pulled out a knife, waving it back and forth in front of my face.

“Maybe we could play chess, instead?” I said, edging him further. He threw his fist into my stomach again, this time a little harder. Thankfully, he didn’t notice my slight adjustment to put most of the pressure on the back of the wooden chair. A few more moves and the knight would take the bishop.

“Yeah, wrong supervillain, mate. Chess makes my head hurt. Now, Ms. Morgana, she’s the only one smart enough to handle that black and white board.” He said, turning to her and grazing her ornate horse mask granting him a devilish purple-lipped smile.

“Oh? I just assumed you were the same annoying, narcissistic, backwards-” I said, interrupted by a slap across the face from Morgana.

“I’ve trained you so well.” Pendragon said, pulling Morgana into a kiss. Who says crime doesn’t pay?

“If you’d like me to come back, I’d be happy to go. Otherwise, let’s get this threesome underway.” Pendragon stopped and turned to me. Even underneath the red dragon mask, I could tell I was getting on his nerves. It’s all in the eyes. The little flicker that hides a deep, deep rage and right now, my voice and face are like a broken urn full of oil.

“If you speak one more time, I swear to the gods I will cut your tongue out. Do you understand?” I remain silent. “Do you understand or are you just as dumb as we thought you to be?” He repeated much angrier.

“You told me if I spoke that you’d cut my tongue out. Not an outcome I’m betting on if we’re being honest here.” His face turned to stunned surprise and he brandished his knife again. He raised his leg to boot me backwards and I made my move. As he sent his leg toward my chest, I titled the chair back with my feet that could still touch the floor even tied up, sending me back faster than his boot could catch. While his boot was catching nothing but air, the chair was breaking against the cold concrete. I was initially a little jarred as my hands were the meat in a wood-concrete sandwich (which really hurt), but I quickly scrambled to my feet as Ms. Morgana regained her composure from the sight.

“Why you little bastard!” She said, sparking up her electrified gloves. I have to stay away from those. She stepped forward but her form was so uneasy. Unfortunately for her, confidence isn’t everything. She swiped like a cat and I only narrowly avoided a swift jolt by deflecting her strike with my forearm. I did the same maneuver but this time added a leg sweep, surprising her and sending her to the floor. I heard the clatter of a knife behind me as Pendragon swiped his knife, gashing my thin black necktie in the process.

“Eh, I never really liked it anyway. Gift from a few exes ago,” I said as he continued swiping. Similar to Morgana, I had to subdue him by using his strikes against him. I batted his arm aside as he hacked and slashed and when the moment opened up, I used a classic disarm and sent the knife out of his hand and back to the floor. Suddenly, I felt way too many volts pass through my leg, bringing me to my knees.

“What kind of detective are you? You fight like a drunkard. You can’t even disarm us both.” Pendragon said. He walked over to pick up his knife again as Morgana stood back up and placed one of her gloves on my shoulder. “Any last words, pig? You blew your chances on a last request.”

“Is it just you and Morgana or are Percival, Lancelot, and Galahad screwing around in your pants too?” I said, baiting him again. As he drove the knife forward, I ducked to the side making him lunge a little too far towards Morgana. I grabbed her arm at her forearm and hand and pushed them into Pendragon’s gut and activated the shock gloves. The electricity ran through him and sent him toppling. I shot up and brought a swift elbow to Morgana’s chin, flooring her as well. I finished her off with a blow to her face. I walked over to the table where that cigarette was still burning. I picked it up, began a drag, but quickly pulled the disgusting thing away.

“Menthols? Dear gods, you guys really are stupid,” I said, throwing the cigarette on the ground, stamping it out, and clicking off the jazz music at the radio. I look around the dingy, chip-titled torture room and find my coat hanging on a coat rack. “At least they aren’t savages.”

I made sure they didn’t steal anything. Pockets still have all my belongings. For bank robbers, they certainly aren’t great at petty theft. I throw the brown trench back on and move towards the door. I slowly turn the handle and open the door to the hallway where fortunately the other members of the gang are not waiting for me. I handled Pendragon and Morgana easily but three more thugs would land me back in the chair. Not to mention if they’ve added more since their last hit. We’ve been chasing them around the city for about three months, and they’ve robbed four banks in that time. We still can’t peg why they would need that much cash or how they could possibly spend it. They certainly aren’t investing in a headquarters.

Suddenly, I hear a voice from around the corner. I slink behind an open door in the hallway, making sure just to stand in the doorway and not shut the door. I spied through the peephole and saw a blue wolf mask. Lancelot. I think our dossier said he was a sharpshooter. Seems like he’d be useless in a fist fight. He was radioing to someone on his walkie.

“Pendragon, you done with the cop yet? Pendragon, I said are you done with the cop yet?” He put his walkie-talkie back in its holster and pulled out his sidearm. Something street trash would use, not really the mark of a deadeye. “By the gods, do I have to do everything myself?” He said, scoffing and stomping down the hall. I moved into the open room and behind the wall as he walked by towards the torture room. He opened the door and before he could reach for his walkie, I sprang into action and put him in a headlock. He quickly pushed back and slammed me into the wall behind us, but I held firm. I knew if he even got one good aim with his pistol, I was toast. He stomped his feet wildly, trying to bash me anyway he could. He bashed me back again, this time against the door frame, loosening my grip. We both fell to the floor, me out of breath and him gasping for air. We both took a second to regain our bearings and then shared a brief cutting moment. He got up quicker than I could and kneed me in the face. I shook off the throbbing pain and used the wall behind me to brace myself.

“Percival, Galahad, get-” He started to say into his walkie-talkie but I gave him a solid haymaker to the head.

“Now now, none of that.” I said, taunting him. I used his imbalance to disarm him of his gun, sending it to the floor. He grabbed my neck, but I kicked his legs out from under him. I used the momentum of the fall to bring my forearm down on his face, disorienting him again. He relinquished my neck and I dealt him a clean knockout blow to his smug face. I stood up and dusted myself off and down the hall were the last two members of the Round Table Gang, Mr. Percival and Mr. Galahad, staring at me. I was admittedly a little disoriented from the last two altercations but I can’t imagine I was getting out of here without at least one more.

“Well come on then. Let’s go.” I said, putting up my dukes once more. I examined the two of them briefly, really hoping that Percival came at me first. He was small, compact. Intel said he was the demolitions expert of the group. Can’t be that great of a fighter either, although Lancelot surprised me. He adjusted his gold hawk mask. Mr. Galahad was much larger and muscular than his counterpart. Comically, he had a green cat mask. I don’t know what these guys’ fascination with stupid masks is. Galahad came stomping towards me.

I delivered several quick blows to his abdomen which frankly hurt my knuckles quite a bit. He just chuckled.

“That ain’t going to work, little man.” Unfortunately, he was right. I had to use his weight against him. He reared up for a downward strike, but I only narrowly avoided piledriver fist to the top of my skull. He came down on my shoulder which sent pain through my arm. I used the other arm to swing a fist, tilting his head to the side. He cocked his head back at me and I could see the annoyed look in his eyes. He grabbed me by the shoulders and sent me swinging through one of the walls of the hallway and into the room I initially hid from Lancelot in. Same dingy tile as the other room hit the back of my head hard.

“You call that a throw? Better invest in some gym memberships, mate.” I said, as he stepped through the me-shaped hole he just created. “Although your budget might be taken up by renovations.” He didn’t care for the banter. He stomped up to me and raised his leg up to smash me, but I rolled to the right. The tile cracked underneath and I got an idea. While his foot was still depressed, I swung my body around and kicked his stomped leg with all the force I could muster. His leg jutted further into the floor as he fell and the angle caused him to slam down harder than just a simple fall would do. I clumsily stood up and went to the groaning bastard.

“Nighty night, kitty cat.” I said, stomping his face and breaking his mask in the progress. I briefly take a look at his face. Ugly bastard, really. Maybe it was better with the mask intact. “Alright, Percival. We both know you’re a cowardly bastard so let’s get this over with. If you come quietly, I won’t have to break your nose too.” I said, walking out into the hallway and Percival was kneeling on the ground and he had already cuffed himself.

“Please don’t hurt me! Just don’t tell the others I surrendered.” I chuckled at the weakling. Just another day at the office, I suppose.

#prison city #detective squall goode #round table gang #mr. pendragon #ms. morgana #mr. lancelot #mr. percival #mr. galahad #dnd #dnd homebrew #prison city stories #noir

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