#masoleum

[wandering-cemeteries]

Cemetery high rise.

Cimitero Monumentale di Staglieno.

Genoa, Italy

Dec. 2016

[tacticalgrandma]

I’m not the only one right

[gfwooyo]

just went down a roman history wiki rabbit hole after looking up agrippa bc of the time of fever and omg y'all the dramaaaaa

[witchblade]

7 months ago

[winepresswrath]

So much of the locked tomb is about being an adolescent living in a mausoleum filled with prior generations' failures and ambitions and then escaping to a different mausoleum filled with prior generations' failures and ambitions. Nona escapes that fate only to sort of circle around to pointing out that we all participate in society and also under very special circumstances a body can be a mausoleum.

[sasquach-scratches]

Anyways i think i've just about exhausted everything that's currently available in Dread Delusin's early access state (except for that GODDAMN FIREBALL SPELL WHER E IIS IT)

I ended up really liking the worldbuilding and hope that the final game has more than just the one inaccessible island in the east to explore because I need more Lore and story. I'm also wondering how much of said island will carry over the stuff from the alpha demo given how different the lore and story is now. I should really play the full demo, or watch a video of it.

My only dislike is how the saves work because I'm spoiled to how games like TES let you make multiple saves and see the how the different paths in quests turn out. It makes for great replayability but also there's some choices I only want to see and not permanently live with, y'know lol

I don't try many E-A games but this is easily one of the meatiest I've played and can't wait for more

[xnomad]

[theseimmortalcoils]

Unknown mausoleum from @woodlawns_twilight_world

[ylkcheeeks]

I have reached the age where one almost reasonable plate of holiday food triggered some sort of full body revolt which required an emergency bubble bath, but after a full night’s rest I am at the mall and bemoaning the lack of sensible winter boots available in the sales.

I feel the oldest I’ve ever been.

[oliviawebsite]

hey you gotta try this new weed strain its called "above-ground pool". one hit will make you feel a profound sense of ennui and self imposed isolation born of neglectful individualism and the suburban news-watcher's irrational fear of the other, holed up in little-duchys guarded and sealed like living masoleums. you have so many prizes and trinkets but no community to lean on. you have convinced yourself this is normal and okay. your kids all moved to different states and no longer speak to you. it also gives you a gnarly hickory ham sunburn

[wandering-cemeteries]

Lafayette Cemetery No. 2

New Orleans, Oct. 2024

[inky-duchess]

Good day, Your Grace! Would you happen to know anything or have resources about the funerals of royals? My scenario is a king dying after an invasion into the kingdom with his daughter becoming the new queen, and I‘ve been wondering about the specifics like where his grave/tomb would be and just how much time would be afforded to the funeral and a potential official mourning period.

Plus, would it be inherently inappropriate to have the daughter‘s coronation directly following the funeral (might give the impression that she just wants to get it over with and doesn’t pay enough respects to her father etc.) or would it depend on how it‘s done?

He would likely be buried on the grounds of a royal residence or in a designated place like a family masoleum.

Official mourning tends to last anywhere between two weeks and a few months depending on the culture. The funeral, again depending on the culture, would take place within a week of the death, to allow for a vigil where mourners and dignitaries can pay respects or travel for the funeral. The entire funeral and period of national mourning (such as businesses closing and some entertainments like playhouses closing down) would run about two week before things start getting back to normal.

The daughter's coronation would take placeva few weeks or a few months after the funeral, with enough time to be respectful and plan the event.

[koboldfactory]

masoleum attendant makes me feel very very gay

I should draw those funky robots again sometime

[witchblade]

I wish elden ring had increased drop rate hours like an mmo

[gailynovelry]

Catacombs Formidi || Short Fiction

Well, I don’t actually remember why they put me down here. I did something wrong. Of course I did; that’s the only way it happens. There’s no prying the lid off of the masoleum entrance by mistake. I’m sure you remember it better than me. The door is like a coffin, isn’t it? It has to be heavy, it has to be so far above the hallway floors, it has to fit into the ceiling like a glove.

Yes, it’s to keep us in.

No, I don’t think you can find it again. It won’t do you much good if you do. You do smell . . . recent. Do you remember what you did?

No, you don’t have to answer that.

I don’t care what you did. Maybe I was better, maybe I was worse. Now I am worse.

This is the warning you will want first. You can’t die down here. Trust me. I don’t know exactly when we stop being strangers and start being denizens, but you’ll cross that line before you ever find some fabled exit. It doesn’t let go of you that easily. You think you’re on the brink of something — starvation, exhaustion, dehydration. You taste dust, dust, dust. And then you keep going. And going. And going.

The needs burn, but they’re just noise, alright? Alright. Ignore them now. Satisfaction is temporary. Existence is long. If you do something you’ll regret, you’ll have forever in the darkness to think about it before you start to forget again.

What are you besides your needs?

It’s not a trick question. You’re going to be asking yourself this a lot in the coming centuries, and it’s too easy to be changed by ruminations.

Yes, I do have reasons to lie to you. Trust me when I say that I am ignoring them.

If you feel your way along the walls long enough, a few days or a few decades depending on how quick you are on the uptake, you’ll realize that the skulls aren’t real bone. It’s stone, carved. The writing is real. Incantations? Spellwork? Laments? No, I don’t know what language it is. Old. Old. Old. Some other civilization was doing it long before us. You’ll encounter their own mistakes in here, and the language barrier would be easy enough to learn around if they hadn’t been here, specifically, for so long.

Yes, I suppose they would be dead if they weren’t here. Again — it’s not a blessing. We can call it undeath, sure. But there’s more to it than that.

No, I don’t know why anyone would make this.

But why the punishment?

Give it a few centuries. The pointlessness will sink in.

I did speak correctly. There are others here besides me, and this is my second warning. If you are recent, you will not want to meet them.

Malicious? Some are just jealous, actually. Some are afraid. Some will want to put you out of your misery, not yet knowing that it can’t happen here. Some are just . . . hungry. So, so hungry.

Wait until you are not recent. You will know it eventually. It will hit you one day, as you shuffle through dry air and over broken rock; you will realize that you have been in here longer than you had ever been out there. You will be comfortable feeling your way through the darkness, and the idea of light will make you nervous. What would you even do with it? You see yourself more clearly without it.

Yes, I’ve met some of the others. They’re monsters. This is not a comment on their character, necessarily.

Like I said — who are you, divested of your needs?

A lot of people are their fears.

You become things, down here. I shouldn’t give you the specifics. I can, if you insist, but not in any great detail. I will tell you about the ones that I do not think — that I hope — you will not become. I brushed up once against someone who was nothing but sharp edges. Warm, wet edges. She was quiet. Quieter than you. I think it hurt her to move.

There was one who hated himself, hated me, hated company. He couldn’t do anything about it but screech. He’d shriveled in some way. Practically a worm. I don’t think I have a reason to fear his fate, not as I understand myself.

The ones speaking in old tongues, intelligible or no, almost never have human shapes. I think it’s a little scarier when they do.

I met— I met a pair once, who had been secretly afraid of being too reliant on one another, afraid that their devotion had doomed them. They had become conjoined in some way. I . . . did not ask.

Meeting people might affect you, yes. Might give you their fears, their shapes.

What am I afraid of?

. . .

Best not to speak it into truth.

. . .

I do have an idea of what I look like. I’ve never seen myself, not since coming down here, but I know it better than I knew myself when I had the luxury of mirrors. Best to keep it to myself. You should thank me, I suppose.

No, please don’t touch me. You don’t want to do that.

Yes, I do want it. I want it very, very badly.

Shhh. That’s enough. They threw us in because we are repugnant to them — criminal, yes, that’s the story — but I’ve been here long enough to realize that people are more complicated than that. Monsters too.

I am so sorry. You cannot show me that kindness.

Look, the talking sates my hunger for a while. Company takes the edge off, but it’s still there. You smell recent. You smell human still, and I can’t help the longing.

You should leave now.

Trust me.

[heavysighing-dreamyeyes]

hii! I were wondering who you think it's pennyworth favorite child in the manor, would he have one?

Oh ho ho, nonnie, you have to know what I'm answering to this one, my writing is dedicated to one man and one man only.

But in all seriousness, Alfred loves all of his grandchildren. It's healing, to see the manor so alive and full of laughter and voices after years of it seeming like a haunted masoleum. Each one of them has brought something special to the manor.

I think Jason has a special place in Alfreds heart because I love the headcannon that they do tea, cooking, and book club together.

Let me elaborate a little, I think when Jason first came to the manor it was Alfred, who really got him out out from behind his defenses and taught him that Wayne Manor could be a home.

I think, Alfred picked through the books in the library until he found novels he thought Jason would like, once he learned that he enjoyed reading. Alfred would just kind of hand them over on trays filled with sandwiches and snacks until Jason was comfortable enough to talk about the last book he read, and then they formed their little reading circle.