#shit what's the tag

[ghostwise]

mors omnibus communis :: 1,088 words tags: act 1, cleric of shar, cleric of kelemvor, discussions of death and mortality and also how hot women are, shadowheart x tav

Zirahuén can feel it, if she focuses: a pressure, a tiny heartbeat like a faint twitch of a muscle. The presence of the parasite invites dizzy spells, flashes of light, mood swings… It's something she can ignore, most of the time.

But at night, when it's her and the glow of the campfire, and the smoke stretching up to the heavens in a serene column, it's more difficult. A lot more.

Ceremorphosis. It's not only her life, but her very soul which is at stake. So, if she's crying it is only proof of its stubborn persistence. A display of weakness, sure, but it is hers.

(Oh, let her indulge a while longer. Existence is bittersweet. Let her feel it, while it lasts.)

She doesn't let up crying—won't do anything to stem any genuine expression her heart comes up with, no, not while she can still feel it—not even when footsteps sound nearby.

They are light and even in their stride. Zirahuén listens. The footsteps skirt the edge of her camp, and then come to a halting stop. Whoever it is does not speak. Who is it, lurking in the shadows?

With a shiver of her shoulders, she sits up.

But already the figure is gone, leaving her alone in the night.

-

The following day is better. There is a funeral.

Gale discovers the murdered man in a thicket of trees. He has been hastily concealed; perhaps a victim of some highway robbery, as they are far from the nearest settlement. The perfect place for a crime.

Zirahuén crouches near the body. She sniffs the air gently. She runs her gloved hand through the dirt; little insects teem through the soil, already well on their way to consuming the corpse. She can spot the discoloration of the hands, and the eyes.

"A day," she says. "Perhaps two."

"Seems about right. How unfortunate," Astarion sighs. "They've a rancid taste at this stage. Although… eugh, no, nevermind."

"Poor man," Gale hums. "I propose we move on quickly. I would hate for us to meet a similar fate. After all, whatever factors precipitated his death could very well remain in the area."

"You all may move on," Zirahuén says, unclasping a pouch from her belt. With a smooth flick she unrolls it, displaying her funerary tools: Incense and sweet oils, prayer scrolls, and more, the sight of which make Lae'zel groan and roll her eyes.

"Again! What is the purpose of adorning a stranger's death in this manner?" she asks.

"All deaths are holy," Zirahuén replies.

"So you have said," Lae'zel states in a tone which is perhaps less derisive than usual. "But we know not of this man's identity, his merits nor his achievements. We cannot judge his life aptly, so-"

"You all may move on if you wish," Zirahuén interjects. "I'll catch up."

The breath leaves Lae'zel in a hiss. She shoulders her bag and starts down the path without another word, while the others follow suit.

"You sure?" Wyll calls out.

"I am," Zirahuén assures him.

"I'll stay with you," Shadowheart says.

This earns a sidelong glance from Astarion as Lae'zel picks up her pace, aiming to be out of earshot as quickly as possible. But Shadowheart comes to kneel beside Zirahuén, and gestures to the funeral supplies. "I can ensure your safety while you tend to him."

Zirahuén meets her gaze, dark brown eyes framed by thick lashes. Dark brown, nearly black. She nods.

Then, without waiting a moment longer, and as the retreating figures of their companions disappear into the distance, she lulls her mind into that magic sliver of space between Here and There. Where the dead can converse with the living. Where the gulf between them is not very wide at all.

-

The sunlight casts sharp shadows on Zirahuén's face when she finishes. It's nearing dusk.

The man is washed and buried. His spirit can rest, having been given the chance to rage, to question, to weep, to share all about his life and about the villains who brought it to its (in his view) premature end. But the epitaph on his makeshift headstone simply reads his name.

Shadowheart, in all this time, has spoken not a word. Giving the deceased his privacy seems only right to her; she pictures the roles reversed, and understands it is not her business to know a thing about him. In fact, she has no interest. But she has watched Zirahuén with an utterly unreadable expression all the while.

There is so much certainty in what she does. There's not even a hint of a flinch or a tremor. Not when the man first seethed his angry words at her, accusing her of pilfering his things. Not when a grub slid from the wound at his side, when she buried him. In fact, she'd moved it out of the way kindly. It hadn't done anything wrong. It was fulfilling its natural role.

Beautiful.

Zirahuén is utter calm, utter quiet. At least, when it comes to death.

The tiefling seems renewed when she comes to sit beside her. The funeral has stirred something within her. Is it catharsis? Is it love? There is an energy about her that Shadowheart finds—surely Shar understands—compelling.

(She will not call it enticing. Compelling is the proper word.)

But she cannot rightly say, So what is your relationship with Death? You seem very at ease. One could say you are all aglow. One could even say it suits you. Death. And dying.

She cannot say what she thinks, or Zirahuén will surely take it the wrong way.

So she doesn't say anything.

For a while they sit in silence. The breeze picks up, bringing the scent of flowers from far away. It tousles Zirahuén's hair in dark curls, like a nighttime river. She shuts her dark eyes—

"I hope," Shadowheart speaks, her heart doing an odd sort of skip in her chest, "I hope you are the one to do my funeral."

Zirahuén slowly opens her eyes and turns to look at her, a tiredness to her gaze, yet also something curious and inquiring.

(Orchids. New moons. Forgotten pantheons. Shadowheart swallows the feeling down.)

"You are marvelous at it. People so often fight against the end, yet you… embrace it." Shadowheart hopes her explanation makes sense. It is quite out of her comfort zone, but she finds the words leaving her all the same, in a breathless rush: "I admire that."

Zirahuén smiles.

It seals Shadowheart's fate, but neither know it yet.

[ochiody]

so has anyone seen that tiktok of two odysseus/hamilton cosplayers outside in the hurricane. because i have

[musubiki]

my favorite fields of mistria boys 🥰

[meteor752]

Zeus all arrogant: My oh my brother, all that work to get revenge on the mortal, and he beats you?You must feel so ashamed…

Poseidon, still bleeding profusely and literally vibrating from horniness: Do you think if I kill his son he’ll do it again?

[500-moths-in-a-trenchcoat]

[tumblr]

WHO WAS GONNA TELL ME WE COULD DO THAT?????

[tumblr] WHY DO YOU JUST HAVE THIS FEATURE LAYING AROUND

[tumblr] [tumblr] [tumblr] [tumblr] [tumblr] [tumblr] [tumblr] [tumblr]

[inkskinned]

we were sitting on the floor and i was cutting out tiny pictures to make a collage for a friend's birthday. you were on your phone and you laughed about something, and i was still in love with you then, so i asked what had you giggling.

"sorry. i was just..." you took a moment and went back to texting. "i was telling someone about how you're afraid of the dark."

i'm afraid of the dark because something bad happened. "oh." i felt a little slinky of shame crawl down my throat.

you glanced up, and maybe it showed on my face, because you rolled your eyes and held the phone to the side casually so i could see the group chat. "what? was it a secret?"

i looked down to the scissors in my hand. "i just..." no, it's not a secret. it just felt like something private, something serious. saying why would you tell someone that just feels like an accusation. it's unfair. i honestly am not even ashamed of it, it's just a fact about my person that i don't usually share.

what a strange experience. is this a human thing or a generational thing? for our grandparents: did they need to worry about how quickly someone can just... share your personal information? again, i didn't even really have a true objection. what could i say? i want any person in my life to feel they can be honest with their friends. it's not like i said don't tell anyone this.

i cut out another letter to complete the rainbow happy birthday, started hunting for the exclamation mark. i heard you sigh dramatically.

"don't make a big deal about this," you said.

this entire conversation was a pattern for us, and this was when we got to my least favorite part of the pattern. i would get my feelings hurt in some oblique not-technically-terrible way, and then it would be making a big deal about something. you'd get frustrated for me for being soft, but i was born soft. you knew i was soft when you pierced me. it's one of the things that made controlling me so easy.

"i'm not," i felt my voice crack. the question came without my wanting. "why are you guys talking about me?" and why are you saying that thing? why not like - i'm telling them how you're generous and kind and pretty.

you let out this low, tragic groan. "oh my god." you tossed the phone away from your body. "there, see? i just won't talk to them if you don't like it."

the rest of the hour went the way it always went, between us: i said i don't actually mind if you talk to your friends but -, you found a way to call my minor expression of discomfort "being dramatic." you got upset that i had been offended. i ended up apologizing, even though i hadn't actually done anything.

afterwards, you picked up the phone again. after texting for a little bit, you snorted. "okay," you said, "but it is kind of funny you're afraid of the dark. i mean, when you think about it."

[hellspawnmotel]

gravity falls x the night of the hunter (1955)

[lunarlivs]

pov: you’re harry being born to a bunch of 21 year olds

their thoughts and doodles below the cut <3

[ikiprian]

Mr. Fenton is a competent teacher. Almost too competent.

If Mr. Daniel Fenton had any more than a BS (with a minor in education), Tim would’ve flagged his profile as a potential Rogue. That’s the way of most charismatic academics, at least in Gotham. (Got a PhD? Instant watchlist.) Instead, he’s Gotham Academy’s newest celebrity, as a young, passionate, out-of-towner substitute while the chemistry teacher’s on maternity leave.

Tim gets the hype. Fenton seems to genuinely love teaching, and is invested in the welfare of the student body. He hands out bananas during exam week, hosts a “study habits seminar” each month to coach effective learning strategies, and the third time Tim falls asleep in his class, he even pulls Tim aside to ask if he’s doing okay. With all the late work he accepts and the protein bars he sneaks Tim, he’s every teen vigilante’s dream teacher. He could’ve been Tim’s favorite.

In fact, Mr. Fenton was Tim’s favorite. Up until Tim walks into Mr. Fenton’s chemistry classroom for a forgotten textbook, an hour after the final bell.

On the board where tallied scores for today’s review game had been kept, “THE CHEMISTRY BEHIND DR. CRANE’S FEAR GAS: ANXIOGENICS, NERI’S, & YOU,” is now scrawled. A detailed diagram of the human endocrine system projects in front of a small crowd of adoring and attentive students.

Fenton is wrist-deep in the skull cavity of an anatomical model. A short tug, and out pops the brain.

It’s plastic. It’s fake.

Tim identifies the nearest emergency exit.

Fenton turns to the door, and in the dark classroom with the projector illuminating half his face, his eyes almost seem to flash red. “What’s up, Tim?” he asks. His friendly grin is too big for his face. “I didn’t know you wanted to join the Just Science League!”

[OR: Danny’s a science teacher at Tim’s school. Gotham’s a pretty wild place, even for someone who grew up a superhero in a ghost-infested town, so he takes it upon himself to start a club teaching kids how to manage themselves in the event of a crisis. These Gothamites are pretty hardy, but a little extra training never hurt anybody! And he suspects one of his students might be a teen vigilante, like he’d been, back in the day. As a senior super, it's Danny’s duty look out for him! Surely, this is the subtlest and most appropriate way to give the kid pointers.]

[Tim immediately assumes supervillain.]

[thebrainrotsreal]

Drew this real quick because I fucking love these two so much ???? Especially Bee. I wish they interacted more so badly. PLEASE.

Also learning how to draw these guys.. slowly.

[violent138]

Bruce finds out the reason he and Clark didn't date so long is because Clark figured he was an incurable floozy who was allergic to commitment. So now every time there's a rumour, a hint of any of that or someone that would bother Clark, Bruce goes overboard.

Clark, spotting the man coming off the elevator at the Daily Planet and doing a double take: "Bruce what are you doing here?"

Bruce: "You weren't answering my calls."

Clark, slightly worried: "Yeah I got busy. Is everything--"

Bruce: "Whatever you read already, it's all lies--"

Clark: "Say what now?"

Bruce: "I was holding her jacket for her, that's it. She's dating my cousin, okay, and they've been together for like four months--"

Clark: "Slow down, what are you even talking about?"

Cat Grant, suddenly walking over: "Mr.Wayne! How fantastic to run into you like this--"

Clark: "Oh no, no, Cat he's just about to leave."

Cat: "--care to comment on rumours you're expecting a child with--"

Bruce, loudly, while pointing at Clark: "I love this man."

Clark: *turning red*

Bullpen:

Cat Grant: "Well my day's getting better and better."

[boobilby]

Being even more cringe than usual

Featuring my friends drawing of Joel, who I’m pretty sure they don’t even know, @dustystripe is the friend

[nova-rpv]

a redraw of the first drawing i posted here to celebrate the fact that ive been in tumblr for more than a whole year posting my shit and havent deleted my blog in panic yippee \:D/ (mushy rant in tags)

[tastelesssandwiches-reheated]

[noornight]

Long distance besties. This definitely happened after the third movie (source: trust me bro)

Based on this

[wilsonmybeloved]

heard we were fiddlestanning

you know the drill..

(full image under cut)