#Funerarium

[anaalnathrakhs]

i know it's not like i'm the most affected by the situation, but i wish idk i wish that i didn't have to direct my whole behavior to be my mom's emotional support dog so she can feel she's a good project manager and at least someone understands her side and listens to her good advice. which admittedly my uncle is being particularly difficult in this whole situation, bc it's always complicated, but also christ maybe it was your mom but it was also my grandma. one day you tell me "what you two had was really special" and the next you don't even let me have a moment alone with her. like god. you saw her yesterday. you could've left me a minute with her or something. you could've refrained from putting your gross ass arm around my shoulders like why do you absolutely cannot resist ruining every important moment in my life? i want to be as helpful as possible for her in this very difficult time, but NOT EVEN FIVE MINUTES. not even five minutes could she stand letting me handle how I want to grieve MY own grandmother.

[sisitrip]

For the @gallavichthings event A.U.gust 2023 prompt "Cyberpunk", I offer "B8ted Breath."

Thank you @gallavichthings and the people behind that tag for hosting! I don't know what this is, but whatever it does turn out to be, I had fun.

Housekeeping:

Funerarium - Funeral Home

Gravecodes - Condensed data containing video/audio of the deceased that can only be viewed in my dystopian funerarium.

Rig-mech - A terraforming machine technician who works on rigs used to make inhabitable outposts, habitable.

_____________________

Ian heads into the funerarium’s Reflection Room, a glass encased dome filled with fake flowers and a dry fountain sitting in the middle of its large space. He’s made coming here a habit after a gravecode visit. A sort of cherry on the morbid cake of his self flagellation. 

He takes a seat on the ring of the fountain and pulls out a small, collapsible metal cup and a mini carton of milk. As always, he feels dumb doing this, but it comforts him after a rough viewing.

He’s pouring the milk into the cup when a B8 CL-WS unit glides noiselessly into the room. Boxy and sitting atop soundless rubber wheels, it rolls around cleaning non-existent dust off the floor. He smiles, thinking not for the first time that this particular cleaning unit looks a little like a robotic military tank.  

“Shit,” he curses softly as he overflows his cup and it spills on the floor. The B8 immediately makes a beeline for him. He lifts his feet as the unit’s small, microfiber pad swipes through the liquid then blows heated air to dry what's left. 

He laughs knowing he must look ridiculous with his feet hanging above the floor and his dumb collapsible cup raised in an awkward toast. The unit goes on blowing warm air, unmoving. This is the longest wipe and dry he’s ever seen. He couldn’t have spilled that much. 

“Uh, I think it’s dry now,” he says. 

The B8 just continues blowing air and he can feel it sliding uncomfortably up his pant legs. Great. It’s malfunctioning.

“Area sanitized. Retract.” 

The unit doesn’t move.

“Um, retract,” he tries again, legs starting to ache in their raised position. “C’mon, retract dopey.”

Nothing. 

Ian notices the code on the unit’s exterior has been altered. An ‘A’ has been scratched over the dash between the CL and WS. Despite his irritation, he laughs. It’s probably been done before, but for some reason, seeing that silly CLAWS etched into this broken cleaning unit is what he’d needed. 

“Claws my ass, you box of junk. I should give you a kick,” he chuckles. 

“I wouldn’t do that. She's been retrofitted with a mini-flame thrower.”

The voice startles him so badly, he falls backward into the fountain, cup flying. He bounces his head off an ornate cherub and sees stars.

“Jesus fuck!” he shouts, flailing as he tries to get out of the fountain without kicking the stupid B8 unit that was now whizzing back and forth over the newly spilled mess. 

A hand braces itself on the rim of the fountain, bearing faded knuckle tattoos that spelled “FUCK.” He stares at it dizzily, fascinated by how menacing that hand looked despite its small size. 

“If you’re thinking of taking a bath in this thing, it ain’t gonna happen, Cherry.”

A man, sporting a black military cap atop longish dark locks, peers down at Ian with the bluest eyes he’s ever seen this close. The looming man’s expression was equal parts amused and irritated as he held out his other hand.

Ian takes it and lets himself be hauled to his feet to properly look at his rescuer. This man was no more than 5’7” with a small, but compact frame and not the hulking menace he thought he was. Not usually Ian’s type, but those eyes. They were something. 

He stares a little too long and the man snaps his fingers in front of his face. 

“How hard did you ring your bell, man?” 

Caught without an excuse for gazing longingly, Ian's face warms.

“That thing almost burned the hairs off my legs,” he complains, reaching down for his cup only to have the B8 snag it with a hook and toss it into a compartment on its back. “For Christ’s sake!”

The man rubs a finger across his ridiculously kissable mouth, chuckling quietly. Despite his irritation, Ian finds himself fighting an answering smile. 

“The fuck you expect a cleaning unit to do?” the man scolds. “You drop shit, it picks it up.” 

Ian rubs the small lump that’s starting to swell on the back of his head, anger flaring at the less than contrite attitude. 

“I didn’t drop a damn thing. It flew out of my hand when you ninja'd out of thin air.” He glares at the man, noting his uniform, an all black jumpsuit bearing the name of the facility. “You work for Obriad?”

“That’s what the jumpsuit says.” 

The man leans down, presses a series of buttons on the underside of the B8 and it takes off, zooming away towards a black door partially obscured by two huge, fake palms. The unit stops at the door, waiting patiently, like a dog. 

“Then you might want to take that unit out of commission until it can be repaired,” Ian suggests, drinking the milk and taking in the tattoos on the man’s other hand. He snorts. Fuck U-Up. This one's a walking, talking poet. 

“There’s nothing wrong with that B8. You spilled milk and it kept cleaning until it was dry. No use crying about it,” the man says, as if he's addressing a child. 

Angry and at a loss for words, Ian drains the milk, taking in the man’s half smile that could be flirtatious or condescending. It feels like both. He regroups.

“I'm not going to argue about a faulty B8. Just try not to have it burn the hair off anyone else’s legs.” 

He turns to walk away and is stopped by the snottiest intonation he’s ever heard. 

“Sir, yes sir. Obriad extends its sincerest apologies, Mr. ...?” 

Ian allows himself a quick grin before turning to look haughtily over his shoulder. Yeah, that smile he’d been confused about earlier? Definitely flirty.

“Gallagher. And you’re …?” 

“Devastated by your displeasure.” 

Ian laughs and that seems to please this exasperating man who continues. 

“It's Milkovich. I run operations here and rest assured, your leg hair will be safe from now on.” 

Ian gets a smile that eclipses every light in the room. Hell.

“Uh, yeah. Thanks, Mr. Milkovich.” 

He gives a short, weird wave, suddenly unsure of how his hands work. Neck burning, he walks quickly to the e-lifts, silently cursing his inability to ever play it cool.

“It's Mickey.” 

The softly called name reaches him at the doorway of the Reflection Room. He turns and Mickey is walking backwards toward that palm framed door, hands in his pockets. Ian considers for less than a second before offering his own name.

“Ian.”

Mickey touches the bridge of his cap and salutes him in an exaggerated farewell worthy of a sultan. Ian huffs a soft laugh and heads to the e-lift. After depressing his thumb to the location pad, it opens. 

He spends the quick descent and vertical shifts to his transport thinking about how Mickey seemed less like a funerarium operations director and more like a rig-mech. Gruff and teasing, his demeanor was better suited for that kind of rough outpost work. Ian should know. He'd bedded more than a few of them. 

The transport calculates the best route home and it's only halfway there that he realizes he's left his cup. He tells himself that he has to remember to ask Mickey for it on his next visit. It was everyone's duty to keep waste to a minimum, right? Retrieving a perfectly usable cup was the responsible thing to do. Honor demands it.

He looks at his reflection in the impenetrable plexishield of the window and the smile he wears is unique if for no other reason than it's a first on many levels. 

It's the first time he's smiled in months. The first time he's smiled in this stupid transport he'd inherited from Monica. 

More importantly, it's the first time he's ever smiled after a gravecode viewing. 

He stares unseeing at the dry, rundown landscape of the approaching outpost and can't decide if this development is a good thing or cause for concern.

He shrugs. It doesn't matter. It feels good and that’s so rare for him, he savors it. 

Maybe finding something to smile about in a funerarium is sacrilege. Maybe it’s not.

Whatever it is, he’ll be back next month if only to see those blue eyes again.

[garbage--account]

I challenged myself to imagine the craziest plot for IE VR so here we go :

>Unmei and Haru being a duo in childhood : Haru being the "ace" and Unmei having the """"""best""""" ideas

>one day, Unmei has the brilliant idea to defy wild horses in sakka for training and Haru is like "alright im in"

>match goes the best worst way possible : horses being unable to understand sakka, Unmei and Haru win the match but get bodied anyway

>Unmei is injured

>his mom forbids him to ever play again sakka and talk to Haru. Also, forces him to fake injury for the rest of his life

>time passes

>meanwhile, in the Frontier Stade during a match with OG Raimon/Inazuma Japan : earthquake.mp3

>casualities : Endou dead, Kazemaru dead, Gouenji survived, Kidou severely injured, Fudou survived, Kogure dead, Hiroto and Midorikawa couldn't attend the match for professional reasons, Kabeyama dead, Tobitaka missing, Toramaru dead, Fubuki *post-traumatic stress dissorder intensifies*, Someoka dead, Hijikata sacrificed himself to save siblings, Kurimatsu dead, Sakuma survived, Tachimukai dead, Tsunami missing, Megane survived, Ichinose and Domon abroad, Aphrodi didn't get invited, Kageno missing, Max and Shishido saved by Handa, etc (comment below if i forgot someone, I'll update)

>Unmei is now in a antisakka middleschool (since a cult of sakka fanatics is soaring in the suburb) so he couldn't be tempted to undrop sakka (according to mom)

>gets randomly in trouble with the sakka fanatics cult at the beach, during a ritual where they watch a sakka match with invisible players

>appears Sakurazaki passing by (the sea inspires him for peotry) : defies the cult in sakka and wins

>that night, Unmei's dream be like :

POV : ur Haru and watches from afar as the earthquake killing ur dad and tearing apart the ground, the hell itself staring at u from the fresh divide while it is devouring countless of victim like shonen protag sucking at ramen

>afterward, Unmei stalks Sakurazaki and recruits members for sakka club and make them play to FF, gets eventually bodied by a wild Haru passing by, hires a cultist as coach, and here we go

>"but mom! I am not even playing sakka. I just manage a team by getting them in trouble for me! Trust me!"

>average episode be like : Unmei having a dream on crack, inspires him for a new training/hissatsu/tactics, coach not here cause he has ritual in the detroyed stadium, FF is located in the local stadium, the mayor getting hooked by attention (he will end up in jail for kidnapping), they play matches with the new hissatsu/tactic developped in training and win, meanwhile, Haru (freshly orphaned cause dad is dead) visits the old friends of Endou who survived to stay in touch somehow with him but it sometimes goes terribly wrong (more deaths : Fubuki killed himself, Gouenji assassinated, Kidou got homeinvaded while agonizing from his injury by sakka cultist for his money, etc), and now there is rumors theirs ghosts are causing chaos and Unmei can see them ???. Also, Shindou and Tsurugi are running a funerarium so they can bury them, and we learned by them Tenma mysteriously dissapeared many years ago so they named the deathcab horse by him

>despite the effort of the sakka fanatics to delay renovation claiming the place cursed, FF final will occur in FF stadium

>intensedramamatch.mp3, the 2 teams are tied by now

>when suddenly : zombi apocalypse

>starting off strong cause Endou's hand gripping firmly Haru's leg, Mugen The Hand is coming off the pitch to bring chaos in the public, all the players dead during the eartquake coming off the earth using their hissatsus, sakka players being dragged into the ground by the zombies, especially Haru

>Unmei's team ends up playing against Inazuma Zombies but, being walking deads, they can use hissatsus even when they have no TP left so they get bodied

>on the second half, Teikoku Academy (eliminated by Haru's team in semi-finals) goes to the rescue with a giant mecha-penguin kaiju (financed by the money Kidou got homeinvaded for, but it was already spend by the time the criminal got there, for "education" according to the accountant)

>Inazuma zombies are now losing TP thanks to this intervention

>so they win, Sakka is saved, so is the world, the sakka culting coach was Tenma all along and no one cares anymore for FF

[violette-lewis]

•16/03/2023•

Day 787 of productivity [787/800]

Took a bus, two coaches, a plane to get to my parents house. Went to the funerarium to see my grandmother. Saw my aunts.

Despite many things, such as finally getting my father to admit that his father was an evil person, I feel nothing.

[symmetricalscar]

Funerarium - 1692

[drondskaath]

Funerarium | Spiritisme | 2020

French Raw/Atmospheric Black Metal

https://funerarium.bandcamp.com/album/spiritisme-full-album-2020

[reptileshrine]

Black Coronation by Funerarium

[black-metalphysical]

undefined

[anaalnathrakhs]

can't sleep! literally cannot stop thinking abt it! it's gone it's sold the whole topic is disgusting and it's all my fault. i want to go see her tomorrow but i can't i can't i'm gonna be thinking about this thing the whole time. i don't want to go complain about my mom in a goddamn funerarium. grandma wouldn't have wanted that. the memory sucks but i feel like doing it again with the same memory is just going to suck even more. like i'm gonna contaminate this shit and the more i do things that remind me of it the worst it becomes. and now i completely ruined my grandma's memory for both me and my mom, because i'm a piece of shit and i can't shut the fuck up.

[grumal]

Funerarium.

[beatasticband]

#photography #funerarium #uk #england #gardens

[miraculousfrenchculture]

hi!! thank you all for taking the time to make this blog. i love to learn more about french culture. i have somewhat of a morbid question: what is the funeral process like in france? i saw on google that it was common to put the dead in tombs but do they ever just bury them with a headstone? or have a memorial service with a cremation? and what would be seen as disrespectful during a funeral service? (you don’t have to answer all these questions by the way) thanks again!!!

Hello! Thanks for your kind words, we're really glad you like it! Putting the answer under the cut for death trigger warning purposes

The funeral process is quite rapid in France, people legally have to be burried within 6 working days of their death. In the meantime, the body is kept in a funeral parlour = Funerarium, often in an open casket, so close friends and family can come and say goodbye. The body is dressed in the clothes they/their family chose, and very often has makeup on so it looks less corpse-like.

Just before the funeral ceremony, the coffin is closed in a process called the "mise en bière" (bière here being a synonym for cercueil = coffin). This is generally done in the presence of family or very close friends, if they wish to attend.

The funeral ceremony can take place in many ways; it can be religious or secular. The number of people who are invited depends on the deceased's wishes or their family (for more intimate ceremonies, undertakers recommend to release the orbituary after the ceremony). In most cases, the closed coffin will be placed at the front of the space the ceremony takes place in, and some people are invited to read texts or eulogies, before paying their last respects. What would be seen as disrespectful during the service is anything that would disrupt the ceremony in a rude way (maybe someone coming up and insulting the deceased for instance).

This is followed either by a burial or a cremation, which are both attended mostly by close friends and family, again, if they feel like it (the other people who were invited are often redirected to a little reception while this happens, if one has been organised). Burials are still slightly ahead of cremations in terms of which choice is most "popular", but both are common and the gap is reducing. The choice is made based on the deceased's last wishes if they were enounced; if not, the close family chooses.

For cremations: it's unusual to go and scatter the ashes somewhere that might have been important for the deceased. There are many strict laws about where you can and can't scatter them, so the most common option is to scatter the ashes in a special place of the cemetary called the "jardin du souvenir" (memory garden), and to have a little plaque with the name of the deceased added around that space. The urn can also be buried in the cemetery (it's an either/or situation: all the ashes are scattered or buried, you can't scatter just part of it).

For burials: Google is right on that front, it's more common in France to put people in tombs, with a headstone on top (the picture below is from the Père Lachaise cemetery in Paris, you can see that people seem to prefer solid last resting places here). There's also the option of getting a family vault, but it's rarer these days. There are now more options to not have a slab of marble/stone on top of the burial space, with just a headstone, but the plot is still delimited by some kind of frame.

A quick note on cemeteries: unlike in the US, they're surrounded by walls here. They welcome people of all faiths, as they are considered secular ground (even if a lot of cemeteries in rural France are in a church backyard). You can't really choose which cemetery you'll be buried in; most people get buried in a cemetery that's close to where they lived, unless there's proof that they had a strong link to somewhere else (e.g. if someone had a secondary home somewhere, if their family is already buried somewhere else, if they lived in another town for a long time...). In Paris, the cemeteries inside the city limits are pretty full, so the only people who get buried there are people who have a family vault, or who have been on the waiting list for a long time. Others get buried in cemeteries outside the city limits, but still close-by. The plot where someone is buried is "rented" by the family or the deceased before they died for as long as they want; when the concession expires, the descendants choose whether they renew it or if they abandon it, in which case the remains are transferred to an ossuary.

Hope this helped!

[wilwywaylan]

Je sais qu'on n'aime pas trop y penser, surtout en ce moment, mais si possible, ayez une pensée pour les travailleurs du funéraire, qui sont aussi exposés que les personnels des hôpitaux, font aussi des journées de fou, et certaines décrets préfectoraux autorisent même les cérémonies jusqu'à 20 personnes (parfois sans masque !). Alors pensez à eux aussi !

I know we don’t really like to think about it, especially now, but please, try to think of all the people who work in mortuaries, funerariums, etc..... who are as exposed to the virus as people in hospitals, have extremely long days, and some decisions allow ceremonies up to 20 persons (sometimes without allowing them a mask) ! So spare a thought for them too !

[12sur12infos]

Kinshasa : Ntumba Katal son épouse et leurs 6 enfants morts tragiquement dans un incendie ont reçu l'hommage du chef de l'État

Kinshasa : Ntumba Katal son épouse et leurs 6 enfants morts tragiquement dans un incendie ont reçu l’hommage du chef de l’État

Vive émotion, consternation et colère ce lundi matin au parvis de la Morgue de l’hôpital du Cinquantenaire de Kinshasa. 8 cercueils contenant les reliques des membres de la famille Ntumba Katala, Chef protocole à la maison civile du Chef de l’Etat étaient exposés au funerarium pour un dernier hommage avant leur inhumation. La cérémonie funéraire a mobilisé des nombreuses personnalités et…