#is not a body of work (corpus) a corpse?

[wakeofvultures]

I was getting cool username envy, so I changed my writing sideblog name.

abyssalwrites ------> wake-of-vultures

[hopeless-eccentric]

disco elysium and the male gaze

spoilers for the game ending under the cut! this one's gonna be long, but bear with me, i promise it's interesting

ok ive been losing it about this game's conversation with gazing in detective fiction for WEEKS and ill do my best to quickly summarize it (again, quick credentials, i did an undergrad thesis on detective fiction with a focus on hard-boiled genre and gender/sexuality)

in short, classical detective fiction (especially hard-boiled, which granted, disco elysium is NOT, though it's referenced often), there's a constant interplay between the ideas of knowledge/gazing and power, as well as power and gender. Looking, deducing, and investigating are highly gendered (male) acts that emasculate or feminize what they look at. the goal is essentially for the gender-transgressive killer (often a woman or man who needs to be punished for killing, and thus penetrating other men) to be "fixed" through gendered punishment or "removed from society," either by killing or jailing them

so ideally for these fictions, a man (the "body in the study," to use scholar kathleen gregory klein's phrase) has been Known About and killed/penetrated by the bad guy. the detective has to fix this by removing the perpetrator's agency through the penetrative gaze and power of the State, in short, emasculating them back into their place

if this feels like a weirdly erotic way to describe detective fiction, that's because it's WEIRDLY EROTIC! theres a history of the "corrective" violence against gender-transgressive women in these fictions being highly sexualized, though often these obsessions with controlling gender-transgressors bodily are a little more repressed (joy palmer's article tracing bodies: gender, genre and forensic detective fiction does a really nice job summing it up and expanding on klein's habeas corpus: feminism and detective fiction, which was the first work to note these patterns)

so what instantly struck me about disco elysium was that 1) the game punishes you for abusing police power against and taking autonomy from queer women 2) instead of being a pathetic, embarassing thing that needs to be corrected, the "emasculated" corpse is treated tenderly, noting the eroticism of autopsy which Palmer raises, and 3) there's a character who behaves exactly like The Detective in terms of gazing at women, emasculating men, and controlling women's bodies and sexualities: the deserter

so breaking things down in an internet-friendly numbered list--

first, the game is actively harder/full of more meaningless, haunting tragedy if you arrest klaasje or break ruby's machine. mechanically, you're punished for using police power to control and punish queer women. even though the classic "femme fatale" is often a cisheterosexual woman, her transgressing gender boundaries (often being a "maneater," having agent sexuality, harming men, often in a phallic manner, etc) marks her as queercoded in a way i really appreciate the game embracing in its more femme fataleish characters. you get the option to Gaze at and Know About women suspects, but the game will NOT make it easy for you

second, the game breaks the idea that the body's murder is a shameful act of gender/sexual transgression that needs to be fixed. the body's objectification (even by a couple of traumatized pre-teens) is treated as a tragedy, and the game does everything it can to humanize lely, even if it humanizes him as a real piece of shit. the autopsy is tender, bordering on romantic/erotic, because the game is constantly trying to remind you that you are exploring a human being's body. the "failed" or "penetrated" man isn't untouchable, which instantly breaks the patriarchal structure of detective novels trying to stamp out unspeakable threats to patriarchy. the further penetration of his life and body by the strange, uncaring investigator figure is also treated as something which could be uncomfortably exploitative, but isn't because you're given the option to be delicate and loving. (i was reminded a lot of lay your sleeping head by michael nava, wherein the protagonist solves his lover's murder, which is portrayed as no less intimate than exploring his body in sex. great book btw)

third, the deserter. dros is everything the hard-boiled detective is meant to be: obsessed with an idealized past, a man out of time (this is more common in neo-noir fiction, including adaptations of a few novels referenced in the dick mullen book), angry at the world for its corruption, unable to escape it himself, and obsessed with gazing at and sexually punishing women. the only difference is that he doesnt work for the government. his matronym is especially ironic, a remnant of a more progressive ideology which has been abandoned in favor of misanthropy. hes become convinced of the same terrifying, comedically corrupt world described in classical detective fiction (read an iconic hard-boiled author's description of that here, at the start of part 7*)

it's such a rejection of the way gazing and patriarchy usually acts in detective fiction. if you gaze destructively, the game gets harder. it emphasizes the sexual connotation of gazing at murders and forces you to be gentle, while empowering the voice of the victim to ensure you treat him like a human, instead of a stock "failed man." the character who thinks and behaves like a detective is a paranoid, sick, elderly murderer who is treated as desperately needing help.

it's amazing stuff

also, if you can't access any of these articles, dm me and ill get you pdfs!

*this article has a lot of issues. dont take it as gospel. it actively contradicts itself like five times and a lot of really good writing has been done roasting it. Miranda Hickman's history of it is really good. that being said, the description of the kind of world the detective thinks he lives in is VERY accurate, even if Chandler describes it as if it's realism. im including it just because it's a famous enough article that it's had a major impact on how detective fiction is written/culturally thought of, and that part is verifiably true

[dailyadventureprompts]

Monster Hunt: An Evil Without An End

Lady Talmere was a monster long before she rose from her grave, having taken to the recreational murder of commoners the way that others of her social class took to falconry or painting. Killing was a hobby for her, a privilege of her aristocratic birth that she could indulge while others were forced to work for a living. She chose her victims purely for the fact that it was easy to make them disappear: her country estates were far from prying eyes, her demanding nature excused the high turnover rate in her staff. She employed those with nowhere else to go, to hardworn by life to ask questions, and when complications did occur it was so easy to wriggle out of them by charming or greasing the palms of the local magistrates .

It was a true injustice that Lady Talmere died happy and of old age, moreso that her wretched spirit was not claimed by some devil and dragged to hell, instead rising some decades later as a mohrg. While most of her old self has rotten away, Talmere still possesses her love of killing and scene of digression, prefering targets that will go unnoticed. To make matters worse Talmere is now prone to reanimating her victims with the parasitic worm that makes up part of her undead corpus, simultaneously creating a new minion while getting rid of the evidence.

Adventure Hooks:

In recent weeks rumours are beginning to spread about the "Tattergaunt", a thing that wanders the night preying on lone travellers and isolated homesteads. The authorities are skeptical and have yet to post a bounty, suspecting beasts or even slavers given the lack of remains left behind. It's only when the party stumble into some of those remains on the side of the road, reanimated, worm bloated, and dragging another corpse that the picture becomes clear.

Talmere is having her zombie minions clean up after her, stashing away the undead that are about to slip out of her control in the hopes that no one will find them. Her choice of using isolated locations for these zombie stockpiles makes for a great random dungeon encounter.

The party may find themselves tasked with investigating a haunting at Talmere manor, inadvertently begun when the spirits of the lady's victims sensed that she'd risen. Unable to communicate through any means other than terrifying vision or violent poltergeist activity, the spirits long to be put to rest, and don't care how much they have to terrify or imperil the manor's mortal occupants in order to get that message across.

Challenges & Complications:

The old groundskeepeper served Lady Talmere in the final years of her life. Though he was only a boy he assisted the previous groundskeeper in all his tasks, which meant he also helped dispose of quite a number of bodies in the first few years of his employment. Riven by guilt and fear of punishment, he'll point the party in the right direction while keeping mostly to himself. However, Interrogating the old man or secretly leafing through his journals might provide the party a vital clue.

Though they want the haunting dealt with, Lady Talmere's descendants are just as prideful as any noble family and won't stand for their ancestor's honour to be besmirched no matter how true the accusations are. The party could make powerful enemies should they go blabbing about the old woman's crimes to the commons, or worse yet the local temple.

Likewise resistant to the investigation is the demon that's been lurking in the Talmere family estate for generations. It didn't corrupt the lady or drive her to violence, merely fed off the injustice of her kills and used it's power to ensure she was a little less likely to be caught. Every body burned to ash in the estate's furnace was a sacrifice on it's altar, and it seemed only reasonable to return the favour by seeding her body with the spark of unlife as she lay on her deathbed. If the party investigate well enough to disturb the demon they will soon find Lady Talmere's corpse knocking on the door of her own home with a small army of undead at her back, ready to massacre anyone inside, including her decendants, just for the thrill of it.

As her life (and subsequent unlife) suggests, Lady Talmere has a knack for escaping punishment. Any time she is slain, her mind transfers to another of her worm-animated undead, beginning a process of transforming it into a mohrg. As such she always keeps a few of her undead in reserve, scattered about the countryside or mixed in with those stockpiled zombies that've slipped her control. Once she's "settled in" to a new body she can start making more zombies provided she finds someone to kill, meaning unless the party stikes her hard and fast (ideally getting rid of her stockpiles before fighting her) she'll always be one murderspree away from cheating death again.

As she exists as an emboyment of moral and cosmic injustice, it seems only right that a weapon of true justice would be Lady Talmere's end. If they haven't already gone searching for divine aid, Midway through their troubles the party is approached by a temple scholar dedicated to the goddess Erathis, who has received a vision compelling him to help the party and lead them to a weapon wielded by a saint of the lawbearer herself. This might be as easy as swearing an oath on the saint's tomb, or as dangerous as tracking down where the stolen relic was hidden by the goddess's enemies.

(thanks @thirdtofifth for the monster stats)

Artsource

[literaryvein-reblogs]

can i request any words/ phrases/ themes linking to the word ‘relic’?

Writing Notes: Relic

Relic - an object esteemed and venerated because of association with a saint or martyr; souvenir, memento

Relics - remains, corpse; a survivor or remnant left after decay, disintegration, or disappearance; a trace of some past or outmoded practice, custom, or belief

Reliquaries - the containers that store and display relics

Where the bones of martyrs are buried, devils flee as from fire and unbearable torture. —St John Chrysostom

Etymology

Middle English relik, from Anglo-French relike, from Medieval Latin reliquia, from Late Latin reliquiae, plural, "remains of a martyr", from Latin, "remains", from relinquere "to leave behind"

Related Words

Afterimage - a lasting memory or mental image of something

Artifact - an object remaining from a particular period

Corpus - the body of a human or animal especially when dead

Decedent - a person who is no longer living; a deceased person

Memento - souvenir

Oddment - something left over; remnant

Oeuvre - a substantial body of work constituting the lifework of a writer, an artist, or a composer

Remnant - a usually small part, member, or trace remaining

Souvenir - something kept as a reminder (as of a place one has visited)

Vestige - a trace, mark, or visible sign left by something (such as an ancient city or a condition or practice) vanished or lost

Martin Luther complained about the profusion of relics and the absurd claims being made for them: "What lies there are about relics! One claims to have a feather from the wing of the angel Gabriel, and the bishop of Mainz has a flame from Moses’ burning bush. And how does it happen that eighteen apostles are buried in Germany when Christ had only twelve?"

Examples

ANCIENT GREEK RELICS. At Athens the supposed remains of Oedipus and Theseus enjoyed an honor that is very difficult to distinguish from a religious cult.

BUDDHIST RELICS. Relics of the Buddha and various saints were (and still are) venerated. Following the Buddha's death, his bones and teeth were divided for the purpose of being used as relics in order to illustrate his teaching of impermanence (anitya). These relics were so valued that they caused armed conflict between factions for possession of them. Afterward, these relics were taken throughout Asia with the gradual spread of Buddhism.

CHRISTIAN RELICS. Since the dawn of Christianity, relics have been an important part of Christian devotionalism. During the Middle Ages, the selling of relics became a lucrative business. The concept of physical proximity to the “holy” was considered extremely important. A pilgrim's possession and veneration of a relic was seen as a means to become closer to God. Instead of having to travel hundreds of miles to become near to a venerated saint, a Christian could enjoy closeness with him/her through their relic at home.

MUSLIM RELICS. Although certain sects of Islam strongly discourage (or outwardly prohibit) the veneration of relics, a very large collection of Muslim relics is preserved in the Sacred Trusts, located in Istanbul, which contains more than 600 treasured pieces in the Topkapi Palace Museum.

The Roman Catholic Church makes a distinction between veneration and worship of relics and icons.

3 Categories of Relics According to the Vatican

First-Class Relics: Items directly associated with the events of Christ's life (manger, cross, etc.), or the physical remains of a saint (a bone, a hair, a limb, etc.).

Second-Class Relics: An item that the saint wore (e.g., sock, shirt, glove). Also included are items that the saint owned or frequently used (e.g., a crucifix, book). An item more important in the saint's life is considered a more important relic.

Third-Class Relics: Anything that has touched a first- or second-class relic of a saint.

Sources: 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 ⚜ Writing Notes & References

Hope this helps! Do tag me or send me a link to your writing if it does. I'd love to read your work.

[ser-i-vant]

₅₄Xe

i never properly introduced these mooks to the world, despite always wanting to. look at my white haired men (and yvit too, hi yvit) the main characters of my funny little fan-story called Tungsten Latticework. they have the protagonist curse of Never Being Allowed To Have A Nice Time Ever [read about them under the cut vvv]

being technically the same person, they share a rough upbringing. coming from a reasonably well-respected, but brutally harsh household, they never knew much kindness in life, and turned inward to focus on their studies - the only way they figured they might get the appreciation they desperately lacked. until the zariman incident, that is... they're both extremely intelligent (especially in the field of engineering), and extremely volatile people. bitter and resentful to the core, everything about them is sharp and unfriendly - inward and outward

to the left is 54 (fifty-four), or fif for short. he takes the role of the drifter, duviri's great and terrible outlaw. an eternity of waking up only to die left quite the mark on his psyche, coating his tongue in venom and sparking embers between his teeth. he'd give anything to get out of duviri once and for all, but he's halted by the existence of his counterpart in the origin system: two of the same person can't live in the same plane of existence. no matter how hard he tries, he's stuck in a prison of his own making. it drives him mad he makes quick friends (""friends"") with lodun. you know, the guy who killed him a kjhillion times. it works out as well as one might expect; two stubborn, bullish hotheads with a penchant for violence... but like knows like. "there's one guy in this kingdom who understands me and i fucking hate him". they somehow sort of get along. fif usually does whatever oddjob lodun tasks him with, purely to feel like he's doing something useful with his forever-time. to feel like he belongs

to the right is xenon. he takes the role of the operator, the fierce and fearless tenno. he hates that title. he hates all of it, he hates being a killer. so, after The Sacrifice, he too leaves the tenno faction. he opts to work with the corpus, to invent technologies to hinder his kinsmen. he works under alad v (who else would be insane enough to get a tenno on board), and despite taking a while to adjust, he flourishes in this environment. he finds immense success with his inventions and prototypes. it's killing him. he's never felt more unhappy in his life, but... this is what he wanted, right? he tries to choke the feeling down with praise from his accomplishments, and it almost doesn't fail he's still haunted by his past. not only that, but entities beyond his understanding seek to make his waking and sleeping hours just a little bit worse. the man in the wall torments him - mocks him - in the form of a mangled corpse-twin. from a different angle, a metaphysical copy of him is threatening to take the miserable little life he'd spent so long carving out for himself. xenon is terrified every single day of his life. dude can't catch a break

tucked away beside xenon is his cephalon, yvit. he is a sweetheart. originally an orange octahedron, xenon granted him a humanoid body as part of an experiment. he definitely has very specific feelings about it, but he manages to push them down deep inside. he would never reject a gift from his operator yvit certainly has a lot on his mind, but he's a competent and kind companion to xenon (who takes this love for granted like crazy. if only he allowed himself to be loved...). he particularly enjoys history and record-keeping, being able to recite many codices by heart (though he is a machine, so it's sort of cheating). likes keeping his appearance tidy, especially with his new body

[corvidaes-crow]

Finished writing the fic from this post!

Summary:

Piecing together the sun is a meditative task; Yudrein has worked for centuries to collect all these fragments of mortal form. All that is left now, is to put him back together.

Isis and Osiris AU where Yudrein is exiled from Orr and spends centuries collecting the pieces of Kishiar la Orr’s divine corpse, centuries more piecing them back together.

Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Gods & Goddesses, God Yuder Ail | Yudrein Ail, God Kishiar la Orr, Variations on Ancient Egyptian Religion, Isis and Osiris mythos specifically, Body Horror, Medical Inaccuracies

[felixravinstills]

On my misc. sideblog, I have a tag that’s like corpse: corpus when works are used in substitute for a body. Get it cuz habeas corpus (produce the body) is a legal term. You’re getting judged for what you did in life but it’s also like… substituting for your earthly remains…

But it was also just my general tag for when people talk about corpses… haha, I should get back to using my misc. more

[smallbody-bighead]

Got any song recs? I need something new in my rotation (:

Omgggg you’re gonna hate me this is gonna be a bit long !!! I organize my music in playlists by genre, but then I also have playlists that are just the songs that I currently want to listen to the most in each genre. So I always have way too many playlists because I also never delete them lmfao. But this is important to know because it explains how I’m gonna go about giving you suggestions!

Right now I’m really into lifelover. My current favorite songs from them are m/s salmonella and I love (to hurt) you. But my favorite songs are always changing lmao. I like how some songs are a beautiful blend of goth rock and black metal.

If you’re more into a grungey alt rock sound I’ve been listening to these songs on repeat on my way to work the past two weeks: asking for it - hole, I think that I would die - hole, drain you - nirvana, rape me - nirvana, touch me I’m sick - mudhoney, need - mudhoney, silver rocket - sonic youth, John the fisherman - primus, to defy the laws of tradition - primus.

My favorite songs in my death metal playlist right now are from womb to waste - dying fetus, skull fucked - dying fetus, bringing back the glory - dying fetus, skante - bodybox, angel dust - body box, stripped raped and strangled - cannibal corpse (one of my all time favorite songs since middle school), projectile ovulation - cattle decapitation, a body farm - cattle decapitation, total gore - cattle decapitation.

If you like metal I want to recommend checking out peeling flesh and bodybox if you haven’t heard of them already! They have a really fresh sound and I love how they use samples. It plays with humor without going full cringe and makes the music a little more complex.

Okay I’m gonna wrap this up with some goth rock / death rock that I like. I really love the playlist I curated and I barely skip anything in there but I’m just gonna give you some songs/groups to check out haha. She cries alone - skeletal family (this is their only song that I like tbh), thirst - paralyzed age (one of my fav bands check them out!!), death to my enemies - altar de fey, true romantics - lebanon Hanover, midnight creature - Lebanon Hanover, saddest smile - Lebanon Hanover, poisoned dead flowers - corpus delicti.

And I’ll stop here :) but now I’m thinking about starting a music blog LMAO!! This was super fun. I moved temporarily and have been out of touch with the scenes I’m used to so I have no one to talk about music with !! If you want to share some music with me too!! In the DMs or as a reply :)

[mask131]

Magic the Gathering: Innistrad (Innistrad block)

My favorite Black cards

Zombies are divided between Blue and Black.

The Black undeads, that you can see above, are corpses reanimated by dark spells and evil curses. The work of demonic activity or necromancers, they are terrifying hordes of flesh-eating undeads, your typical horror movie zombie. Sometimes they are also called "ghouls" and those that wake them up, "ghoulcallers".

Blue undeads however are more akin to the Creature of Frankenstein. They are artificial zombies, creatures brought to life by mad scientists and morbid alchemists, who stitched together various pieces of human body before animating them. The technical term for the people that created those abominations is "skaberen", due to Blue undeads being called "skaab".

If you are interested in knowing more about the two different types of "zombies", the official Magic website has a detailed break-down and the "ghoulcallers's unhallowed" and the "skaberen's skaab":

THE UNHALLOWED Necromantically animated zombies are more commonly called ghouls or "unhallowed" on Innistrad, because they're drawn forth from unhallowed graves. One of the duties of Avacynian clergy is blessing the final resting places of the dead to try to ensure "the Blessed Sleep." Now that Avacyn is no longer present, the dead can be more easily stirred. Ghoulcallers Necromancers on Innistrad are usually referred to as ghoulcallers, the black-mana mages that call forth the dead from graveyards, or "grafs." There are several varieties of graf, each of which draws forth a unique mix of the walking dead. Fengraf. A fengraf is one of the many flooded lowland graveyards. These sites were once hallowed ground, but have remained untended for many years. Fengraf ghouls are usually smiths, cobblers, brothel workers and other common and poor folk. Seagraf. A seagraf is a "fisherman's graveyard." Much like minor nobles, fishermen are often buried with their most prized possessions, such as nets, long harpoons, and large hooks for getting hold of a slippery catch. Seagraf unhallowed have not completely forgotten their trade even in death, and they will pursue victims using the tools and deftness they had in life. Diregraf. A diregraf is the site of a particularly gruesome battle. Unhallowed awakened from a diregraf carry the armor, weapons, and fatal wounds from their last bloody battle. Diregraf ghouls carry this lust for an unfinished battle within their fogged minds, and they often attempt to fall into military formations as they were trained to do in life. Once the dead have risen, the ghoulcaller then supplants all other addled thoughts of the dead with one single driving purpose in their minds. The near-mindless ghouls will call on what skills they have left to carry out the task, and the results are a grotesque parody of their lives. Blacksmiths attempt to "reforge" their opponents, fallen warriors emit rasping pseudo-cries, and undead murderers reawaken their taste for killing. Occasionally, fallen mages even show a limited ability to weave spells, but this often results in some aberration of the spell's original purpose.

THE SKAAB Necro-alchemy is much more of an art than ghoulcalling. One who practices the art of creating skaabs is called a skaberen. The true goal of the skaberen is to create life, an undertaking which usually produces malformed "offspring" rather than true life. There are four steps to producing a skaab. Corpus Creare, also known as "corpse cobbling," is the collecting of various anatomical parts from corpses from which the skaab will be constructed. This is usually performed by paid grave robbers or homunculi under the skaberen's charge. In some cases, even the limbs of beasts are used for the construct; if a human arm is not available, a horse's leg can suffice. Patin Ligitus, or rune-bonds, are the "binding plates" used to join various anatomical features together. These are plates of copper and/or brass, with silver-inlaid runes scribed on them. They provide an arcane bridge of sorts between disparate parts gathered by corpse-cobbling. Viscus Vitae, or vital fluid, is the key to the skaberen's art. Viscus vitae is created by mixing a large quantity of lamp oil with the slightest pinch of the dried blood of an angel. Once a perfect mixture of viscus vitae is created, any blood remaining in the corpse is replaced with vital oil, via transfusion. As a result, skaab are often highly flammable. Vox Quietus, translated as "the silent word," is the final step in creating a skaab. The skaberen whispers a fairly lengthy incantation over the corpse which awakens the creature, but in a much calmer manner that that which is used by ghoulcallers. Once awakened, the skaab is in a calm, "tabula rasa" state, which allows the alchemist to begin the long task of re-educating the creature. In the eyes of a skaberen, the technique used by ghoulcallers is crude, heretical, and provides unacceptable results. Skaberen usually ply their trade in remote and inhospitable places, since they are viewed as blasphemers by commoners and clergy. Skaberen often become obsessed hermits who surround themselves with ancient scrolls and books, phials of rare noxious liquids, glass jars full of pickled organs, anatomical charts for both human and beast, rune-engraved skeletal remains, and small anvils and hammers for inscribing runes on brass and copper plates.

[kaibutsushidousha]

Now that all of Megumi Fushiguro's Shikigamis have been revealed, can you talk about the myth of the Tokusa no Kandakara they're based on? I could find a list of them on Japanese Corpus but nothing that mentions what each of them do, so I have no idea how deeply each correlates to their Shikigami.

Huh, I hadn't noticed in the chapter that Gojou namedropped Mourning Tiger as an Agito component. Yeah, that's all of them now, even if the last one had to be introduced in such a lame and unceremonious way.

Ok, by the ask's wording, I can guess you already know the basics. There are 10 treasures. 4 jewels, 3 scarves, 2 mirrors, and 1 sword. The 10 treasures are known for their 10 symbols, and these symbols can be found in (most of) Megumi's 10 shadows.

The 10 treasures come in thematic pairs, as you probably can see from their similar symbols. Normally I'd be going over them in the logical order of 4-3-2-1, but since one of the 3 scarves is paired with the sword, I'll do 4-2-3-1.

The 4 jewels are the 4 symbols in the middle of the image. Clockwise, they're the Jewel of Turning Back on Death (Jewel of Ressurection), Jewel of Turning Back on the Road, Jewel of Plenty, and Jewel of Life. Despite the matching symbols and name patterns in the left two and right two, their thematic pair is with the top two representing life and death, and the bottom two representing mind and body.

Anyway, we hit our first problem with the Divine Dogs. The black dog has the symbol of the Jewel of Turning Back on Death and the white dog has the symbol of the Jewel of Turning Back on the Road. The Totality dog can't settle the debate because it has both. All other shadows map up to the other treasures, so the process of elimination says that if only one of the jewels represents both dogs, the other represents the off-screen tiger. Not much to work with here, sorry.

The other two are the Jewel of Life on Great Serpent's forehead and the Jewel of Plenty on the side of Tranquil Deer's neck. Let's start with the life-death pair.

1) The Jewel of Turning Back on Death is the treasure of death. Often simplified to Jewel of Ressurection because the name sure is a mouthful if you commit to the name pairing with the mind treasure. It's a jewel known for the sharp spike on its bottom half. Its power is to resurrect the dead. To do so, you need to place the jewel on the corpse's chest, hold your hands out, and repeatedly chant the Yura Yura no Furube until it works. Assuming this one is the Divine Dogs, this is probably represented in how Totality was created by White resurrecting within Black. If this one is the Funeral Tiger instead, well, I suppose the Funeral in the name is going to mean something.

2) The Jewel of Life is the treasure of life. It's a jewel known for the sharp spike on its top half. It grants energy and vitality. You're supposed to be holding this jewel when you're sending your wish to a god or when you need to interpret the words of a god. It enables you to hear the words of gods inside your head. It's a jewel of light meant to bring humans and gods together. Great Serpent is just a big attacker, so I can't find any connection between it and its jewel. It does have an ability Agito inherited, so maybe it will show it off along with the tiger's power.

3) The Jewel of Plenty is the treasure of the body. A set of three jewels pointing up. It grants you perfect health with no physical damage. This part matches up with Tranquil Deer being the healer shikigami. But in another (cooler) version, the Jewel of Plenty grants every wish. You're supposed to place the Jewel of Plenty in your left hand and hold the Eight-Handled Sword in your right to wish for the prosperity of your nation.

4) The Jewel of Turning Back on the Road is the treasure of the mind. A set of three jewels pointing down. It holds off distancing souls from going away and returns them to the place they originally lived. If you place this jewel 3cm above your navel and chant the Furube with your hand held out, you can seal or kill evil spirits. This is how Funeral Tiger can get rid of Sukuna and bring Megumi back, maybe?

The two mirrors are the pair on the left corner of the image. You can find the Mirror of the Deep symbol on Toad's belly and the Mirror of the Shore symbol on Max Elephant's forehead. They share a distance theme, representing far and near.

5) The Mirror of the Deep is the treasure of far. A bronze bell that is a mirror on the outside. The mirror shows you what is far. It brings honor and glory. You're supposed to keep this mirror in a tall place. This mirror is considered an avatar of the sun. The world's lawcode is written on the bell's inside, so you can use it as a moral guide. Megumi uses Toad's tongue to draw distant things close, so that's the connection, I guess?

6) The Mirror of the Shore is the treasure of near. A bronze bell that is a mirror on the inside. The mirror shows you what is near. It brings honor and glory. You're supposed to keep this mirror always close to yourself. By seeing your own face in the mirror, you'll be able to tell apart your good will from your bad will. Breathing into the mirror then cleaning it up leads to self-improvement (polishing your reflected image -> polishing yourself). Then Max Elephant is Megumi's... projectile-shooting shadow. I feel like it and Toad would make more sense if they were swapped.

The 3 scarves are the 3 symbols on the right corner of the image. The rightmost two pair with each other for the earth-sky theme, and the more central one pairs with the sword that takes its same position on the opposite side of the image the purity-wickedness theme. Out of these, the only visible symbol in Megumi's shikigamis is the Bee Scarf on Piercing Bull's forehead. Mahoraga has the Eight-Handled Sword directly namedropped on its full name, so no problem here either. But Nue and Rabbit Escape have no visible symbol, so their placement is deduced based on their abilities.

7) The Snake Scarf is the treasure of earth. A long, feminine scarf in the shape of an asterisk. It's an exorcism tool that drives away crawling plagues, such as snakes. And if you're bitten by a non-crawling plague, it will cure you of their toxins. Before it became an anti-serpent divine tool, it was made to be used as a waist apron to protect one's lower parts from molten steel in ancient iron-forging rituals. Later, as it gained divine power, it became a defense against wicked spirits crawling on the ground. Nue fits with this one since its ability is to escape ground threats by fleeing to the sky.

8) The Bee Scarf is the treasure of the sky. A long, feminine scarf in the shape of an X. It's an exorcism tool that drives away flying plagues, such as bees. And if you're bitten by a non-flying plague, it will cure you of their toxins. You can fight off wicked spirits from the skies by flapping the scarf at them or by hiding yourself under the cloth. You can also seal off wicked spirits and impurities by covering them with this cloth. The only association I can make with the Piercing Bull is cloth flapping->bullfighting.

9) The Scarf of Various Things is the treasure of purity. A long, feminine, expensive-looking scarf with a gaping hole in the shape of an X. It's a purifying tool, capable of exorcizing away anything wicked. You can purify various things by placing them atop the scarf. The Jewel of Turning Back on Death's resurrection ritual requires the dead or the diseased to be lying down with this scarf as a makeshift blanket. It can also be used to hide your valuables from demons, which I believe is the main use that inspired Rabbit Escape.

10) The Eight-Handled Sword is the treasure of wickedness. A sword with eight grips forming a wheel, much like Mahoraga's own wheel of the Dharma. It dispels evil and restores law and order via violent conquest. But aside from its ability to slay evil spirits, it's also a sword used to wish for peace and tranquility in your nation, as alluded to in the Jewel of Plenty section.

[periodicresetofcivilizations]

John 11

Alchemical Hermeticism taught the imperative: “Transmutemini de lapidibus mortuis in vivos lapides philosophicos”—calling for the transformation of man from a "dead stone" (base material existence) into a "living philosophical stone" (a perfected, immortal being). The "stone" symbolized the human body, but not in its crude form—rather, its glorified, incorruptible state.

As the alchemist Peter Bonus wrote (Theatrum Chemicum, 1602), the Hermetic work leads to the resurrection of the dead: the soul reunites with its original, eternal body, now subtle, incorruptible, and capable of penetrating all matter—a fusion of spirit and matter in transcendent perfection. This process mirrors the Last Judgment, where the "stone’s" germination signifies the final transfiguration of man into divine immortality.

The transmutation of man from a passive, material state ("dead stone") into an active, transcendent being ("living philosophical stone")—a process of spiritual and metaphysical regeneration.

The "philosophical stone" represents not mere physical immortality but the achievement of an incorruptible, divine state, where spirit and matter are unified in a higher, sovereign form of existence. This reflects the Traditional doctrine of the "resurrection of the body"—not the physical corpse, but the glorified, subtle body (corpus glorificatum), capable of transcending material limitations.

The alchemical process parallels initiatic realization, where the adept overcomes the dissolution of the profane self and attains the "Solar Body"—a symbol of immortality and absolute power, as taught in the Mithraic and Hermetic mysteries. The Last Judgment is thus an inner event, the final separation of the eternal from the perishable, marking the ascension of the true Self beyond cosmic cycles.

This is the warrior’s path—not salvation through faith, but victory through knowledge and will, the heroic conquest of immortality.

[ramrodd]

Weeping Through Easter: A Credible Historical Reconstruction of What Mos...

COMMENTARY:

So, I take it, given that Harmonization is the eney of the Truth,  cherry picking is the lamp of wisdom. ]\' If you are interested in what it was like to attend a Sit In with a campus radical or Weather Man, hang around for the punch line, This is what a Marxist Paul has nothing to do with Mark 15, which is totally roman in origin, The Gospel of Mrk was composed and conveyed to Rome in Latin before Paul had returned from Araby and long before the Jerussalem conference, The fact is that The Gospel of Mark is a divect product of the debriefing of Peter by Cornelius in Acts 10, Cornelius was Pilate's Command Sergeant Major equivalent, He was in the room with Pilate during the interrogaton of Jesus. The Gospel of Matthew is a polemic written in response to Galatians and in support of the Judaizing of Peter and James. The emply tomb was a death sentence to the soldiers and centurion who had been posed therr to defend the body until sunrise. The sunrise was their relief, but if the body was gone and they were still alive, they had to replace the corpse with their own, That's how habes corpus worked in the Roman prison system, It doesn't matter what the status of the burial was:  the Jews didn't want the Jesus Followers to claim He had risen under any circumstances. Matthew tells us the priest give the guards a bribe to keep  the resurrection a secret and claim that the Jews had stolen it,  That's wouldn't hav saved their lives in front of Pilaate if Pilate wasn't in on the grif, To put it simply, your thesis is bullshit. Your need to deny the actual events is typical of your Weather Underground mission,

[m58]

two from Tom Formaro

Act of Attrition

Erode or entwine before a favorite loss of sight— Faux regrets in the last strand up the latter until the form succumbs to the old ways— meaning what you pray—Not today or even a stone fold in time can explain where my memory of revery has gone or if—Let’s not make a rigged  wheel of this  unless a charmer’s smile is the first dead giveaway

Bodied

Speaking of  a lack of a trilogy the biology failed—or succeeded if defeat  of one corpse by another is the standard But I regress— noblesse oblige a kind of strip tease— anthropomorphize  the sound of two  left hands asleep to find something to grab hold of Is that not what they thought before the habeas corpus

Tom Formaro is a writer, drummer, and dad. His work has appeared in Janus Head, Otoliths and dadakuku and is forthcoming in White Cresset Arts Journal and Indefinite Space. His poetry takes random and deliberate thoughts, glances, and earshots and torques them until some sense of motion emerges. He lives in Des Moines, Iowa with his wife and daughter.

[jhavelikes]

Yet “onlife” may still have its uses. It certainly proves an essential concept for Carl Öhman in The Afterlife of Data: What Happens to Your Information When You Die and Why You Should Care (University of Chicago Press). The author is an assistant professor of political science at Uppsala University, in Sweden, though the present work belongs to the interdisciplinary field of information and communications technology (ICT). Everyone online generates enormous quantities of personal information and tracking data, much of which is stored and will continue to exist after the person creating it has died. “The corpus of information left behind upon death,” Öhman writes, “is not just etymologically, but also conceptually analogous to the corpse.” As the population of users grows, so does the number of “information bodies” left by the deceased.

Review of Carl Öhman's “The Afterlife of Data” (opinion)

[i984]

I Love You- Wait, What?

|Pairing|: Wednesday Addams x gender neutral reader

|Warnings|: THIS IS CRACK, Ooc! Wednesday Addams, author kind of gave up on writing after the third perspective shift, honestly this fic is just a joke at this point, potion works weirdly here, stupid love confessions, panicked but low-key high! Wednesday Addams.

|Summary|: You ruin everything for Wednesday Addams, be it sleeping peacefully or good potion-making.

|A/n|: This might as well be titled "I Gave Up on Quality" with the pairing of Wednesday x @vorsdany . I am really sorry but also not really. I promise I write better fics than this.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

A moron.

That's what you are.

"No, I'm pretty sure I put in the right stuff. Snake fangs and then lavender, right?" You scratched at your back while stretching your sore body as carefully as possible.

With the cauldron, textbooks, parchments, and various ingredients scattered across Wednesday's dorm room floor, you're pretty sure the girl will smack your head if you spill the potion in the making the second time.

Wednesday pointed at the procedure text in hand; you sighed as you leaned forward to read. Okay. Great. So you managed to mess up not only the order but also the name of the ingredients. 

"Snake tail? Well- You know what? I can't help you make this mystery potion if you don't tell me what it's for."

"You were the one who insisted on being a nuisance, might I remind you," Wednesday scoffed as she crossed her arms, brows coming together at the disaster liquid filling the pot.

The potion glows a wine color, its light casting a shadow on the ravenette's tired face; the dark bags underneath her eyes compliment her overall corpse-like look. You wouldn't worry because somehow this appearance works a charm for her, except her behaviors have also resembled the living dead. 

"Well, it's because you look like you can use some help-"

"I do not need help, especially not from you." 

Wednesday didn't even look up as she said it, nose buried deep in whatever book she was reading. Why do you even bother to put up with her at this point?

"Fine! I'm leaving, then." No response. 

If she is going to act like you don't exist, you might as well sabotage her top-secret project. Hands swiftly switching the marked lids of two flower jars—white periwinkle and phlox—you stand up and make your way across the room, heading for the door.

"Good luck, Wens." You throw her an open smirk you know she won't see before exiting the room.

You can't wait to see her fail.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

Wednesday lets her body slump as soon as the sound of your footsteps recedes to nothing. The past week has been... restless. And she meant that quite literally. For some reason, her past vision invades her mind when she tries to subdue her consciousness.

With her eyes closed, the picture was as blinding as it is irritating, like daylight to her pitch-black heart. 

It always started with a smile—that annoying smug one—plastered on a face she knew too well for her own liking. And then, echoes of laughter would haunt her, taunt her.

She hasn't let it go farther than that. She couldn't. If Wednesday is going insane, it'll be from the intense torture she befalls upon herself. Not from such unwelcomed twisted imageries that plague her mind.

"Descendamus somno sempiterno, donec corpus e carcere reviviscat." Wednesday speaks in her best Latin, fingers trembling as they throw the right ingredients into the cauldron. 

She watches the liquid turn colorless—a telltale sign that it's successful—and sighs in relief. 

Finally, her sleeping potion is ready.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

You turn your head to the sound of a familiar booming voice calling your name across the cafeteria. Enid, the werewolf, approaches you with a daunting look on her face. How unusual.

"No bone-crushing hugs today?"

No response. Why is everybody ignoring your words?

"Something is really wrong with Wednesday."

You huff at her while you take a seat. "Really? Because I'm pretty sure she just kicked me out of your room half an hour ago." You grab a brownie from your plate and take a bite out of it. "That seemed pretty normal to me."

Enid raises her eyebrow at you knowingly. "Well, what did you do?"

"Nothing!"

A couple of heads turn both your ways. Suddenly, the ceiling looks very interesting. You can see Enid waving dismissively at the crowd from your peripherals. Face contorting in an apologetic look, you take another bite from your brownie.

"Anyway, she told me my sweater looks like a lunatic splattered their guts on it."

The piece of cake dropped off your mouth. "That means she's into your sweater," Enid raised her eyebrows speculatively as she handed you a tissue, "Did she just give you a compliment?" 

"As a matter of fact, yes I did." 

You and Enid jump at the chilling voice from behind you. 

"Dude! You scared the heck out of me," you turn your head to see Wednesday holding a glass of red liquid. She looked drowsy—subdued almost.

"First of all, never call me 'dude' ever again," the ravenette seated beside you groggily, "and second of all, I thought I made a point that fear feeds my entertainment needs."

"Oh yeah, I forgot you do that-"

You take a pause. Enid immediately notices the look on your face.

"What? What's wrong?" The werewolf asked you in a hushed tone. The raven watches as she takes a sip of her drink.

"Did you just- Did she just-" You pull away from Wednesday in disbelief, "reply to the things I say?"

The girl in question only raises her eyebrow at you, the glass of pomegranate juice resting on her now red-stained lips. Then her brows slowly meet in the middle again, perfectly mirroring her look from earlier. 

The glass produces a thud as Wednesday puts it down on the table. You and Enid share a look with each other. A concerned look. One of you has got to say something right now, and you aren't going to be the one to do it.

The sentiment is shared apparently because the blonde also has her mouth trapped shut.

Clankings of dishes. Chatter comes from the crowds. The room was far from silent, but for some reason, it was as if everybody was waiting for Wednesday's response. The tension thickens in the air as the girl turns to look at you, despair etched in her features.

"I need your help." 

You take the last bite out of your brownie. The sweetness resembles something of a victory.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

There must be something wrong with the potion; Wednesday figured out as much. She expected that after the drowsiness took over and her heartbeat slowed, she'd finally be able to shut her mind and get some much-needed rest.

But it was the opposite; while her muscles may have relaxed, the images flashed through her brain with newfound intensity. 

The smug smile, the laughter that resembled screeching metal chains, the mischievous twinkle in those eyes- Oh, how those eyes dragged her feet through the corridors of Ophelia hall. 

Nothing made sense anymore; Wednesday needed to find the source of her madness and stop whatever is happening at the very core.

She needs to stop you. 

But not before throwing Enid a merry compliment along the way and giving Eugene a preposterous nickname.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

"Bee Man? That's what you came up with?" You're almost rolling on Wednesday's dorm room floor, hands coming to clutch your contracting stomach; if Wednesday doesn't kill you now, the laughter certainly will.

"Yes, but can we please focus on the task at hand?" The ravenette clenched her jaw, "You're supposed to be helping me find the problem with the potion-"

Boisterous cackles cut through Wednesday's words, and you swear you can see fumes coming out of her ears. "-not to laugh at a genuine, original nickname."

"Yes, but he asked you to give him a nickname and BEE MAN-" you wheeze uncontrollably, eyes tearing up at the absurdity of it.

If you knew changing one ingredient would've given you a very talkative and silly Wednesday Addams, you would've done so during potion class ages ago.

"Okay, okay, I'll tell you what I did," you take a deep breath, hands coming to pick up one of the vials containing water-like liquid; eyes scanning the mystery messed up serum.

"But, only if you answer my questions first."

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

Wednesday was ready to whip out a dagger to your neck and make a new potion from scratch, but without identifying the real problem, she'd risk committing the same mistake again.

After all, she'd been meticulous in following the instructions. So it couldn't have been a mistake on her part.

Begrudgingly, she nods, bracing herself for whatever question you may throw her.

You flashed her a teasing smirk, and Wednesday could've sworn it was almost identical to the ones that haunted her every time she so much closed her eyes. A mere coincidence. That's all that is.

"All right, question number one," you cleared your throat before resuming, "Pineapple on pizza, yes or no?"

This threw Wednesday off. And as if you could read her mind, you added a quick, "and no, there's no significance to these questions. Just answer them as is."

Recalling the intense debate Enid has dragged her in with Yoko in the past, she thanked her roommate internally for the fact that the werewolf has basically force-fed her the food.

A simple 'yes' slides out Wednesday's mouth, and you move on to the second question—still with that annoying smirk plastered on your face.

"The second question. Mint chocolate ice cream for dessert, yay or nay?"

"Yes."

"Beep-boop, that's not the proper answer to my question. You have two more chances of getting this correct!"

Wednesday feels her face scrunch in exasperation, "I thought you said there's no signi-"

"One more chance until you're disqualified! Please choose your words carefully," you wiggled your eyebrows at her, and it took everything in Wednesday not to smash the spare potion vial at your face.

"Yay. The answer is yay." 

"Yay, indeed!" you make a grand gesture by lifting your hands in the air, "Onto the next question. Which one do you put in first; cereal or milk-"

"Milk. It's milk. Next question please."

"Ohoho, eager are we?" you stand up and grab the textbook Wednesday had used earlier for the potion-making instruction. Now Wednesday has all her attention on you, eyes narrowing in laser focus as anticipation for your upcoming words.

"Finally! The most important question of this compatibility test, and no matter your answer, I'll tell you what you desire to hear most!" 

Your fingers tap and dance on the book's cover—imitating the sound of drumrolls—and Wednesday almost mauled you then and there if not for your question;

"You, Wednesday Friday Addams, have a crush on me, yes or no?"

The ravenette surprisingly sinks in an internal debate at this.

Just say no. It wouldn't matter. You'll know why the sleeping potion doesn't work after this. Just say no. What is stopping you? It's so easy. The answer is no. Just say-

"Yes, I do." 

What?

No, no, no, no. This can't be. Correct yourself. Say-

"I do have a crush on you."

The book you're holding dropped to the floor. Wednesday looks up to see your mouth gaping, eyes darting all over her face as if you're looking for a sign of her joking. 

But there was none. There was just a surprised look shared between the two of you. 

Wednesday quickly grabs her book and flips through the pages hurriedly.

The slip-ups, compliments, and the awful nickname. The love confession. Could it really be?

Wednesday's fingers slowed down as she reached a designated page, her eyes scanning the room to see two almost identical flower jars at the foot of her bed, only differentiated by a label stuck on the lid.

And when Wednesday caught your guilty face looking at it like her, she knew.

White Periwinkle and Phlox. The two kinds of flower that are similar in appearance but differ significantly as ingredients of a potion.

"A truth potion," You both breathed out into the room.

And you look at Wednesday; she's looking at you. 

"So it's true then?" The shakiness in your voice surprised the two of you, forcing you to clear your throat for the second time in her room.

"It is what it is," Wednesday tears her gaze away from yours to the book in hand, covering her flushed face with the extent of her bangs.

"Unless we managed to mess up the truth potion too, then maybe-"

"No, no, no, no, because," you drop to the ground and kneel at the space in front of her, hands hurriedly opening the vial containing the liquid that had started it all. Wednesday panically looks at you now, and you smile at her before chugging the whole thing down.

"I have a crush on you, too."

And there it is in all your glory; bright smug smile, childish laughter, and mischievous eyes. It finally clicked for Wednesday that you—yes, you—are her eternal living nightmare. She'll make sure you pay the price for all her sleepless nights. 

And it's not gonna be cheap.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

|A/n2|: I really am genuinely sorry, I promise I'll do better next time.

[blamelessfish]

Silver Part One

Master List // Next

The smell of ink and candle smoke mingled with the stench of blood. I straightened up, glanced down at the corpse, and sighed. I rubbed my temples. At times like this, my brain just logged what I saw, not reacting. He'd been eviscerated, throat to groin. The amount of bleeding showed that he'd still been alive, but there was no rope burn on his wrists and the cut was clean. Almost surgical. Like the work seers or Necromancers did on corpses sometimes. "Old hand," I murmured,  and glanced at the ritual circle the body had been curled around. The lines were bizarre, the Arcane frequencies were incongruent, suggesting a ritual invoking passion and emotion, but the wavelengths had been secured. The circle around the ritual hadn't been made with salt or something grounding, but powdered copper. There was items from the first five gates, skip the fifth and sixth, and then an Angel's Feather. And the power source was celestial. Celestial power for a ritual of blood. I was unsure what to make of it. That made me nervous. There was a knock on the door, and I glanced around the dingey one room Seattle apartment. There were photographs on the walls. It looked like Ronald was a nature photographer. My eyes lingered on a picture of a coyote, its eyes seeming to stare back out at me. There was another knock on the door, and Alphus cleared his throat. I looked at him. He was a mountain of a man. Nearly seven feet tall, wearing a jacket in the July heat. His expression was unreadable, hidden behind a beard and mirrored sunglasses. He cooked his head towards the door. I sighed. "Let them in. It might be good to get a second pair of eyes on this."

             "That bad?" He asked in a voice like grating stone. I gestured to the circle.

             "Any ideas?" He didn’t say anything, and opened the door. The two feds that stepped into the room looked the part. Cheap suits, mirrored off brand shades, shoulder holsters. If I hadn't known any better about the C.O.D's finest, I might even have thought they knew what they were investigating. One was a shorter, plump woman, and the other was a tall thin man. They both seemed to cast a wary glance at Alphus and I. "We don't bite," I promised. They started to come in, then they saw the body and froze. Alphas closed the door. "Greetings from the Order of the Corpus Sacrement," I said to break the silence, "I am a Keeper of Gates and a Warden of the Emerald Domain, Silver Harrows." I gestured to the body. "I wish the circumstances were more pleasant." The woman nodded and stepped forward while the man stepped forward and started to examine the body. She shook my hand.

     "I'm special Agent Cassidy Burns of the Cryptozoological and Occult crimes Division of the FBI." She cooked her head at the man examining the body. "Special Agent Burns." He grunted, and stood up.

     "A single, clean laceration," he said with a tone like that was the one big clue that would crack the case. "Whoever did this was an old hand," he turned to me. "Who do you know that could open someone up like that? Like a surgeon?" Alphus chuckled darkly, and I couldn't hold back a grin. I shook my head and glanced at Special Agent Cassidy. She shrugged.

     "First case in the C.O.D. Got here after catching a Loup Garou that dropped a few bodies." I let out a low whistle and looked at the man. He didn't look like he could tangle with one of the Moonhexed.

     "Respect," I said, "but you're asking the wrong person the wrong question."

     "Why? Do you know a lot of people with medical training?" I ran my hand through my hair nervously.

     "Not exactly," I said. "It's just that most Practitioners worth their salt, specifically in the fields of Divination or Necromancy, which involves a lot of magic, would be able to do this." Special Agent Burns seemed to think for a moment before speaking again.

      "I thought Necromancy was frowned upon," he finally said.

      "By the Unenlightened," Alphus said. "To Practitioners, a corpse without a soul is just more material." I let out a short, amused exhale. He was uniquely equipped to speak of Necromancy. There was a pause as Burns seemed to process the information.

      "But he wasn't dead when the cut was made," he finally said. "Any living person would buck and struggle, and even if he was restrained," he paused as he checked the ankles and wrists. "Even if he was restrained, there would be evidence of that jerking, bucking movement as he was killed." I nodded. The man wasn't stupid. "Unless,"

       "Unless he was unconscious or charmed. Maybe both." I finished. He nodded. I gestured to the ritual circle. "What can you get from this?" I asked. He set to work, and while it was clear he didn't know what he was looking at, he at least had the good sense not to touch anything. I crouched next to the corpse again. Next to Ronald, again. His face was twisted in agony, his features a distorted parody of what they would have been in life. Special Agent Cassidy crouched next to me.

        "Not unconscious then," she said.

        "No," I agreed. The image flashed in my mind. Unable to move, unable to scream, held in place as I was eviscerated. I winced and shook my head, unsure if it was a reverberation or just my imagination. I opened my eyes to see Cassidy reaching out to close the corpses. I stopped her, grabbing her wrist.

        "Why not?" she asked. Her voice carried a tiredness in it that I knew well. Resignation that things could always get worse.

       "We don't know what spells did this, or what he fueled. Until we do, it's unwise to touch him without protection." She nodded. I murmured a few words under my breath, and traced a few sigils in the air. His eyes slowly closed. She patted my shoulder. 

      "I'll call Arcane Hazmat."

      "Just know that he's at peace," I lied easily, "and we'll catch whoever did this."

      "What do you think sat here?" Burns asked. I stood, and turned, glancing at the carpet he gestured to. A heavy rectangular object had only just started to depress the fibers. It was barely noticeable. I hadn't seen it.

     "Nice catch," I said, crouched next to it, and ran my fingers along the carpet, murmuring words of protection. All that happened was that my fingers tingled. I grunted. "Could be a few things, but it was probably a tome," I straightened up, my knees popping as I did.

    "Like a wizard's book of spells?" Burns asked, smirking. I shrugged.

    "Not quite. It's a grimoire, but it's also more. Each tome is unique to the author. They can't be reproduced. A bit of your own soul, your own magic, goes into making the book. It holds all manner of Arcane Lore. Rituals. Incantations. Names. Formulae. Miscellaneous Magical Minutiae." I shrugged. "I can get more in depth about grimoires if you'd like."

     "Sure," Burns said. 

     "So-" I started.

     "It's two thirty," Alphus said. "We have to go." I grimaced, remembering that I'd agreed to meet with Marcilla at three. Alphus handed Agent Cassidy my card as I packed up my kit. Just a few things like moon water for cleansing and arcanically receptive stones.

      "We'll be in touch," I said as we left.

      "Should I be expecting a raven tapping at my window?" Agent Cassidy asked, grinning.

       "Actually, my familiar is a toad." She laughed as Alphus closed the door. I grimaced. Alphus was silent until we got to the elevator, and the doors closed.

      "You lied to her," he said simply. I nodded.

      "They didn't want to know." Alphus remained silent, but I could tell he agreed. Neither of us wanted to know either. We didn't want to know that the whole time we were investigating, Ronald's ghost was chained to his body, split open, and screaming like he couldn't when he died.