#iugulare-mortuos

[chocolatecatcupcakecheese]

WIP Name Game

Kiss kiss to @sybaritick for tagging me! 😘😘

Rules: Post the names of all the files in your WIP folder, regardless of how non-descriptive or ridiculous. Let people send you an ask with the title that most intrigues them and then post a little snippet of it or tell them something about it! Tag as many people as you have WIPs.

I have a lot of BG3 WIPs, but here we go!

4MF

Can’t drown my demons

does this unit have a soul - durgetash

Durgetash Politician Blackmail AU

End of all things

Galetash Pirate AU

gort arranged marriage

Gortash Regency Era AU

Gortash 神様始めましたパロ

iugulare mortuos

High aka iugulare mortuos

Himawari no Tane - hamtash

kissie kissie - orintash

Lightning rod - durgetash

Little Princess - tavtash

Nectar - Karstarion

Sumn sumn russian exchange student

Sunglasses Emoji 😎 MCIF

there are many benefits to being a marine biologist

Wile Magic - Fae Tav

怪盗 - night watch

オメガパロ gort tables turned

I am tagging the lovely @visceralcoma @thereallonelyagain @unkledeath @secondsundering @dandelion-bride @rjshepherd @bearhugsandshrugs @plethomacademia @spockandthings @baneschosen @sadponyguerrillagirl @thechaoscryptid @dabs-into-oblivion @spellmage @boghags

uhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh and anyone else I missed who wants to share!!!! I am surprised I managed to come up with this many writer mutuals who haven't yet done this..... If you're interested give it a try!!!! 💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖 And if I've double pinged you have an apology cookie!! 🍪

#akachan writes #ask game #If anyone mentions how many of these are gort-centric I will combust uwu 💞 #akachan do you think about any other character? yes!! once per month. next question!!! #most of these make sense with ship name etc bc I like to be organized. but some are just. bad LMAOOOO

[k1ngtok1]

WIPs, WIPs, Everywhere!

I was tagged by @weekend-whip to do this WIP ask challenge thingy!

Rules: post the names of all the files in your WIP folder regardless of how non-descriptive or ridiculous. Let people send you an ask with the title that most intrigues them, and then post a little snippet of it or tell them something about it! And then tag as many people as you have WIPs. I have deemed that this isn’t just for writing either. Sketch titles? Comics? DnD campaigns? If you have an unfinished project, it counts!!  

Letsa go! Newest to oldest!

Learning to Love (again)

Things you said I wasn’t meant to hear

My heart and yours

Butterfly Effect

iugulare mortuos - to cut the throats of corpses

Ascent

Pokémon Earth and Stars

The Silence of Snow

Bleeding Hearts

Ur mom

Kodya(an empath)

The Queen of Monsters

Tagging: @felikatze @manjirian @ririthu @bisexualwaluigi @squib-2006 @spinchip @destinysbounty

#ninjago #me tagging the Big Blogs: pls don’t smite me I’d like to be friends #my writing #ask game #RoS #room of swords

[the-queer-and-beloved]

Proposal: Queer-Say as the queer alternative to Gay-Dar. As in “Find any good queer-say in here?” (Not explaining this well but hope y’all like it anyway.)

I love this. A lot. Thank you for sharing! 

- Cosmic

#Mod Cosmic #qb answers #iugulare-mortuos

[elsewhereuniversity]

Haven's Refuge

All you know is they called him Haven, and when he came, he brought a spirit with him.

He had this dorm before you, and even four months into the semester, you’re still finding traces of his time here. There are sigils throughout the room, scraps of paper a few centimeters square tucked into the doorframe and windowsill and one traced on the ceiling in glow-in-the-dark paint. No matter what candles you light or how much air freshener you spray, it always smells like hazel, rowan, and vervain. To get rid of the salt ground into the carpet, you swear they’ll have to strip the room down to the baseboards.

You always feel secure in your dorm, and you notice some of the older students on your floor staring jealously when you return to it after classes.

They all give the same answer when you pry.

“I asked for Haven’s dorm.”

You have no roommate. There are two beds in the dorm, and once you ask the RA if you’ll ever share it with someone. She smiles—too many teeth, not enough emotion—and says there isn’t room.

The week before mid-terms, you’re careless.

In your rush to meet some friends to study, you forget to put your iron bracelet on when you leave your dorm. You only notice when one of the Gentry wanders closer than usual in response to your singing. You freeze and stare at your bare wrist in horror, praying They did not take a liking to you.

Once the girl with the seaweed hair is within arms-length of you, she too freezes. She stares behind and above you for a long while—long enough that you begin to get dizzy from holding your breath—before turning and walking away.

Since that incident, the Gentry have given you an unsettlingly wide berth.

Finally, after midterms, you ask around about what Haven was like.

The answers they give are all the same. Haven wasn’t anything special, just a witch who tried to make the space around him safe. You can guess what from but not who for. You ask as much. The only reply you receive is a knowing smile. Still, you press for more, about the sigils tucked into the doorframe and painted on the ceiling. All for peace, comfort, and safety of the beings that live there, the other students tell you. The one on the ceiling means ‘Refuge,’ confirms an old classmate of his.

When you ask after his roommates, there is silence for a long while. They stare behind and above you when they finally do speak again.

“There isn’t room.”

You ask why they all wanted his dorm. They still stare at the space behind and above you.

“He left something behind.”

That night, you can’t sleep. For the first few hours, you stare at the glowing sigil on the ceiling, contemplating who the refuge could be for. For an hour after that, you stare at the empty bed across from you and try to understand why everyone insists there isn’t room for anyone else here besides you. The more you look at it, the more you swear the mattress is bowed as though someone is sitting on it.

They say he left something behind.

You wonder if he left someone behind.

As time goes on, you figure out that the Gentry only give you such a wide berth when you aren’t wearing more than two pieces of iron, which is paradoxical, to say the least. So you head out to the courtyard outside your dorm building with two iron bracelets and a necklace, a bottle of whipped cream vodka and a shot glass, and your tablet. You sit on a bench, pour a shot of vodka, put it on the bench beside you, and start singing.

You see eyes in the shadows move to focus on you, but nothing happens until the girl with the seaweed hair slinks over and quickly snatches up the shot glass. Hoping that she’ll stay if you’re hospitable, you pour another shot when she sets the glass back down and keep singing. You wait until she sits down to stop. She tilts her head at you when you pour her yet another shot.

It seems like she’ll stay, so you tentatively ask why They avoid you, turning on the voice recorder on your tablet.

Her gaze wanders to that spot behind and above your head. She sees something you do not. Everyone sees something you do not. But her eyes don’t linger there this time. She focuses back on you in seconds.

“You are spoken for.”

You pause, thinking back to how the bed bowed that one night you couldn’t sleep. You shake your head and ask who speaks for you.

She gestures in the direction of your dorm.

“Haven made it safe.”

You’re running out of vodka by the time you finish asking questions, and yet you feel as though you have no more information than when you started the semester. You thank her and offer the rest of the bottle for her cooperation. She takes it and vanishes into the morning mist.

You return to your room to find a notebook splayed out on the floor, messy drafts of some of the sigils you’ve found decorating the pages. One in particular catches your eye—a rough copy of a sigil you recently discovered tucked into the top of the doorframe—and you bend down to pick up the notebook and get a better look at it. An underlined note in the margin beside it reads, ‘high energy; low maintenance’.

From what you can decipher of the half-crossed-out description of the sigil’s intent, it seems to mean, ‘It is safe residing here.’

The phrasing confuses you. You’re no witch yourself, and certainly no expert on sigils, but from what you know, proper wording is essential to this craft. Wouldn’t it have made more sense to phrase it as, ‘It is safe to reside here’? You assume that Haven knew this, as open as you hear he was about his witchcraft.

The only explanation is that the phrasing was intentional. He must have known what he was doing and chosen to word it that way.

You look at the bed across from yours again. It bows as you watch it, and a wave of warmth rushes through the dead air. You look down at the notebook. You consider how she said you’re spoken for.

With a quick shake of your head, you close the notebook and set it down on your desk. You have a test next period and better things to do afterwards than look through a musty old notebook.

All you know is They call him Haven, and the spirit he brought didn’t leave with him.

x

#iugulare-mortuos #stories #haven #awww #submission

[apatheticacrylic]

Black lace onyx by @iugulare-mortuos

#art #digital art #digital drawing #drawing #digital #steven universe #su #fusion #su fusion #black lace onyx #onyx

[gelatinouscatharsis]

GUESS WHO GOT THEIR ARM STUCK IN A TUBE

NOT ME!

(Callout post for @iugulare-mortuos )

#fite me #>:3c #♡

[iugulare-mortuos]

localbimess == > iugulare-mortuos

#Ash Talks #url change #blog maintenance #back to basics

[fandomtrumpshate2017offerings]

Ash - FTH Contributor Page

See Ash’s works here and here!

To contact the seller before bidding, please use their tumblr @iugulare-mortuos

If you have a very specific prompt and are not flexible, it’s best to contact the seller before bidding, even if it fits within their listed parameters. If you are asking for a specific kink, always ask first.

Charities these auctions benefit: Planned Parenthood, Rape, Abuse, and Incest National Network, Standing Rock, the Trevor Project

(See full list at our FAQ)

Ash’s offerings:

Ash Auction #1

Type of fanwork: fic Subtype(s): n/a Fandom(s): Transformers (every series except the Movies), Doctor Who, Sherlock, Hetalia, Young Justice, Green Lantern: The Animated Series, Teen Titans, Avengers (and all MCU content), Voltron (original Lion cartoon, Voltron Force, and Legendary Defender), Star Trek 2009 continuity, Les Miserables, How to Train Your Dragon, Artemis Fowl, Homestuck, Steven Universe Rating(s): Mature Length/size: 5-10k words, It depends on how much the bidder contributes (tell us more in the ""additional info"" section) Especially interested in: Relationships still in the making are my absolute favorite things to write. Cultural exchanges and difficulty understanding each other because of a cultural barrier is also something I enjoy. Anything violent, tearjerking, or angsty is also wonderful. Will not: I cannot and will not write sexual content. I'm iffy on abusive relationships; I'll need to discuss it. I will not write pedophilic (meaning adult/minor of any age) or incestuous (whether blood-related or not) pairings. Notes: One-shots (between 1 and 5k) would be $10, while multi-chapter and anything longer (up to 10k) would be $15.I need more direction than simply X pairing in Y situation or something similar. A good bit of discussion will definitely improve the quality of the work, and it will help me get a good feel for the type of style and fic you're looking for,

Auctions run from 12 January 2017 (Midnight, EST) to 19 January 2017 (Midnight, EST). Bids before or after this period are invalid and will not be counted.If you would like to bid on this auction:

Step 1: Check the bidding spreadsheet to find out what the current high bid is. (Note: It may take up to five minutes for a bid to appear.)

Step 2: Fill out the seller’s bidding form with a bid that is higher than the current high bid. If you want to make it harder for someone to outbid you, bid higher! You will NOT be notified if someone outbids you, so please bookmark this page and check frequently. You will only be notified if you are the high bidder after the auctions end.

Thanks for participating in Fandom Trumps Hate!

#ash #fanwork: fic #fandom: transformers #fandom: doctor who #fandom: sherlock #fandom: hetalia #fandom: young justice #fandom: teen titans #fandom: dcu #fandom: mcu #fandom: voltron #fandom: les mis #fandom: homestuck #fandom: artemis fowl #fandom: star trek #fandom: steven universe #fandom: dc comics #golden needle

[tobeyisprochoice]

Geez, what's with all the nasty anons on the pro-choice blogs lately? Anyway, keep on keepin' on; you're one of my favorite pro-choice users, even though I only recently started following. You're doing good work. Also where do you get all that patience? I could never stay so calm.

Thank you! That means a lot!

I have a feeling it has to do with that panel tumblr did with the abortion experts. Pro-lifers did not seem to like that, one bit. I think quite a few deactivated and the more disgusting/terrifying/violent ones are in a frenzy.

#ask #iugulare-mortuos

[elsewhereuniversity]

Back to the Fire

Cinders was a transfer to Elsewhere University, a young upstart from somewhere he refused to disclose. He practically lived in the Engineering Hall, English Hall, and Campus Café, but it was easy enough to lure him outside for a talk with the promise of pastries. With a smile like the Cheshire Cat and a sense of humor straight from the gallows, he coyly danced around prying questions, turning them back at the asker in as little as a single sentence.

He clamored on about the stories he wrote, about his characters who all seemed to have a more vivid existence than his own. He knew them inside and out, could recite their family histories and backstories without a moment to look through the notebooks he carried around. He could name hundreds of landmarks in his fantasy world and explain their historical significance.

But he wouldn’t–couldn’t, it seemed at times–name his hometown.

He smirked at the questions, tapping his fingers on the table as if considering how to respond. His eight rings, all some combination of iron and silver, clicked on the wood in an awkward, stuttering rhythm.

“I remember salt. And storms. And an ocean past the breakwater, full of excitement and danger and the unknown. I remember the mermaid statues, decorating the street corners like peace offerings. But the name? My hometown is just as central to my identity as my first name. You’ll need more than a couple kolache to coax that out of me.”

Dime put her chin on her hands. She had heard from Cinders’ roommate that kolache was his favorite. If anything would get him to talk about his hometown, Hearth had insisted, that would be it.

There was a half-joking bet among the writing students Cinders told his stories to that he might be one of the Fair Folk. Dime knew better. They only knew the Cinders who wandered from the Campus Café to the English Hall, dazed and rambling about some aspect of his stories he’d been stalled on for weeks prior. She knew the Cinders who obsessively put his rings back on immediately after completing a mag particle test because he didn’t feel safe walking around, even in the Engineering Hall.

They didn’t know Cinders’ rings were silver and iron. They didn’t know that he wore jackets still coated in iron dust from his first mag class. They didn’t know he sewed a ring of iron jewelry chain into the lining of each of his hats.

Of course, that was because they never saw Cinders with his rings, jackets, or hats. Neither Dime nor Hearth knew why, but whenever Cinders went to the Café or to visit the writing students, he didn’t wear his protection.

“Cinders,” she started.

He cut her off with that Cheshire Cat smile and a flippant, “Did you make the kolache? Not bad, but I could give you my recipe.”

He was avoiding the question he knew was coming. Dime lifted her chin off her hands and tilted her head at him. The engineering and writing students both had questions about Cinders–questions they’d tried asking him before, only to have him talk in circles and turn it back on them. “You know what I’m going to ask. Just do us all a favor and answer this time, please.”

He sighed. He put his hands in his lap and shook his head slowly. “Do you know why I chose Cinders as my name for the University?” He waited for her to shake her head. A quiet, bitter laugh shook his frame. “Because I just can’t stop playing with fire, even after I get burned.”

Dime thought she understood what he was getting at. “You made a deal with Them, didn’t you?” Her voice was hushed, barely above a whisper. The Gentry heard everything; They would know if she addressed them improperly.

Cinders took off one of his rings, holding up at just the right angle for him to look through it. “Not so much a deal,” he sighed, “but a trade. A few, actually.” He put his hat on the table. The dull thunk from the sewn-in chain was a stark reminder of his paranoia. Even after all the precautions he took, he still prattled on about feeling unsafe walking from his dorm to the Engineering Hall.

“What did you trade?”

He put the ring back on, returning to the awkward, stuttering tapping.

“Cinders, what did you- Oh my god.”

“I needed inspiration, Dime. I couldn’t stand to have all these unconnected ideas in my head, all these stories that just wouldn’t go on paper no matter how hard I tried. It was torture. I couldn’t write stories, but I could tell them. I would sit around the English Hall after class, telling stories from my childhood to anyone who would listen, and I would notice some of the Fair Folk listening from the edge of the courtyard.”

Dime stared at him, understanding and horror dawning on her as he told the story of his first trade.

How he took his rings, jacket, and hat off and approached the Gentry at the Café with an offering of–what else–kolache. How he offered them a story just to listen to his request, and how when they accepted, he told them about the Woman of the Storm, a story he grew up with. How he bartered for inspiration and drive afterward, offering up the first few years of his childhood memories in exchange. How he ran back to his dorm in a haze, waking up the next morning with stories that finally made sense but a loss of interest in his oldest friends.

“They loved my stories.”

“Gamble nothing you cannot lose. You know this. Hearth told you; I told you! Why would you barter memories?” Her hands shook, curled into fists on the table, and she gritted her teeth. It made perfect sense now. Why he never went home for the holidays and breaks. Why he insisted on keeping so much secret. Why his stories and characters had more life than he did. Why he never wore iron around the English Hall anymore.

As an engineering major whose primary focus fell on metals like iron and low-carbon steel, he should have been safe from the Gentry. It hung in the air around him, dust from grinding and liquid from mag particle on his skin and clothes. As far as Dime knew, They would never take him, despite his stories.

But like a fool, he sought Them out. An offering and a story for an audience, memories for inspiration.

“The payoff seemed worth the price until I went home to family I no longer knew, a city whose name never stays with me, and friends I had to befriend again. All I had were my stories.” Cinders wasn’t looking at her anymore. He wrung his hands, eyes focused on the trees behind Dime. “I had played with fire, and I was burned. I came back here before break was over so I could have something familiar, but the inspiration went away again, so I made another trade.”

Dime got up. She couldn’t listen to him explain any more. “I’m sorry,” she said, wiping at the tears welling in her eyes. “I shouldn’t have asked.”

He let her go without a word.

It was weeks before she saw Cinders again in more than passing. He’d been seen telling stories to the writing students after classes, lurking around the Café during his lunch, and wandering the Engineering Hall, but even Hearth wasn’t sure what he’d been up to.

His eight rings were down to six, his jackets finally washed, and his hats nowhere to be seen.

She heard from a few of the writing students that his stories were more vibrant than ever, more detailed and full of life than he seemed to realize. She wondered if they understood the cost of Cinders’ creativity.

She saw Them, too. Listening to Cinders as he wove his tales, venturing closer and closer with each time she saw him. She feared for him. Music students came back most often, followed by the writing students, but Cinders was a wild card, an engineering student who just happened to be a storyteller.

Once, she ran up to him when she saw him stumbling away from the trees near the English Hall. She called his name four times before he heard, yet he didn’t seem to really see her.

“Cinders, it’s been a while, what have you been getting up to? Hearth and I-”

He cut her off with the same Cheshire Cat smile and flippant tone as he had all those weeks ago.

“I knew you once, didn’t I?”

x

#iugulare-mortuos #stories #deals #english majors #oh cinders honey no #the last line is fantastic #cinders #submission

[apatheticacrylic]

Citrine by @iugulare-mortuos

#art #digital art #digital drawing #drawing #digital #steven universe #su #citrine

[apatheticacrylic]

Labradorite by @iugulare-mortuos

#art #digital art #digital drawing #drawing #digital #steven universe #su #labradorite #Lab

[apatheticacrylic]

Azurite malichite

Fusion of labradorite and peridot (oc)

Design by me

Characters by @iugulare-mortuos

#art #digital art #digital drawing #drawing #digital #steven universe #su #fusion #su fusion #lab #labradorite #peridot #dottie #azurite malachite

[apatheticacrylic]

Ghost eye japser

A fusion between labradorite and cassiterite

Designed by me

Characters by @iugulare-mortuos

#art #digital art #digital drawing #drawing #digital #steven universe #su #fusion #su fusion #lab #labradorite #cassiterite #ghost eye Jasper #Jasper

[iugulare-mortuos]

URL Change

iugulare-mortuos ==> aro-iron-man

#Ash Talks #url change #blog maintenance #will change the theme & icon when im off work