Sonny || Necromancy enthusiast || Mathieu Bellamont apologist
my art || my writing || ao3 || crows
Fics:
The Illusionist — A young mage’s battle with cognitive dissonance leads to even more denial. And murder. Features Lucien Lachance appearing when he's least wanted (Oblivion novelization)
Slither and Writhe — A spoiled rich girl’s adventures in necromancy go horribly right (Skyrim shenanigans)
Beyond the Break — Mathieu Bellamont angst hour
Treacle — Scar-Tail escapes life as a Shadowscale (oneshot)
Fear, Primarily of Falling — Lucien's life with the newly mantled Prince of Madness is not going as he planned (oneshot)
Another Night in Bravil — Listener!Lucien Lachance/Sheogorath!HoK filth
Ground Me Down — Arch-mage!Raminus Polus/HoK Hurt/Comfort
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Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
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Teeechnically not WIP anymore since I posted the chapter yesterday, but it sure is a Wednesday :)
Got tagged last week by @ego-osbourne, @mareenavee, and @chiqita! Thank you all <3
Forwarding to @sulphuricgrin, @kookaburra1701, @skyrim-forever, @trickstarbrave, @paraparadigm, @gilgamish, @dead-finches, @dirty-bosmer, @truth-01001001-liar, and whoever else likes their dragon gods nice and fucked up.
Today on the docket: Serana encounters Alduin for the first time :)
Fragment length: 694 words.
She was outside, sitting at the edge of the courtyard as the sun shone the last of its few daylight hours over the Karthspire. Tap-tap, tap. Somewhere behind her, Erik was still trying to practice the flourish that lost him three separate spars, drumming away at the dummy’s wooden sword with drilled motions while Esbern gave him pointers: short edge up to receive, rotate the wrist, down to overtake, forward and repeat. Tap-tap. Short edge up, rotate the wrist, long edge down, point forward and repeat. Serana knew in her heart she could not repeat the motions if given the chance. She knew them by rote just from listening to him mutter.
Tap, tap. A sigh.
Serana lifted her head and let her gaze fall forward without aim. She was afraid of heights. She never had to think about this information until half a year ago - not that she would have had many chances to find out in the first place. It was… odd. Feeling her legs dangle down, with nothing underneath. The way her gaze instinctively stopped just shy of the edge, and a pit opened up in her stomach at the mere suggestion of moving it even an inch further. Tap, tap-tap, tap.
She didn’t know why she picked this place to sit over all the others. It was not conducive to thought. It did nothing but distract every time her brain short-circuited into awareness, forcing her to lull it back to sleep. Tap, tap, tap. A pointless little exercise in sanity.
But it did feel strangely nice to let her legs hang off the edge. Tap, tap. Feeling the wind in her hair. It was colder now than it had been before. Erik would have to go indoors soon. Esbern certainly would. Tap. She wondered who would be making dinner today.
Tap, tap, tap.
It was cold.
Serana’s hand went still, and she lifted her gaze off the distant ground up at the sky. She hadn’t realized the sun had disappeared until she saw the metal-gray clouds staring back at her, a steel screen stretching up to the horizon, and the first flake of snow landed silently on the open page. With a small sound, the journal clapped shut with the pencil tucked between its pages. Serana furrowed her brows. She liked to believe she could trust her memory - within reason - but she could have sworn the clouds were not so near just a short while ago…
They were not staying still.
With alarmed haste, Serana scrambled back up to her feet and peeled her eyes into the distance as the clouded curtain overhead stretched impossibly onwards, as if pulled along by some invisible force through its weft. There was no wind, she could feel it - and yet forward they went, nebulous waveforms tearing at the fibers, tearing up, twine spun around an invisible spool that tugged them down, down, ever down towards the blackened scenery where the sky itself hung above like an opaque shadow. Her gaze narrowed; even a vampire’s vision was not without limits, but if she focused - really, really focused - she could have sworn the clouds were practically… collecting, far above a distant hill.
A single drop of ink fell down from them, and Serana felt like the back of her brain had been tenderly skewered.
She didn’t scream. She didn’t even make a sound. Only stood there, mouth open like a fish out of water, aware, suddenly and horrifyingly aware of a palpable lack where ventilatory reflex ought to be. Her diaphragm stuttered with imbecile contractions, static coursing through the inside of her ribs, the contents of her occital lobe leaking like brine through sand. Her thoughts broke.
For context, this is Oceana having a complete meltdown, remembering the hurtful words she's endured throughout her life, whether from her narcissistic parents, toxic relationships, or people she's hurt.
(I'll explain in more detail when the drawing is finished.)
No pressure, here are my tags : @cresu @dirty-bosmer @heavy-metal-dick @friend-of-giants @theoneandonlysemla @kauchenoe @sassybakalesbian @skyrim-forever @hircines-hunter @juliette-has-a-pencil
Tagged by @thegrunkiest and @unironicallytes ! Thank you so much :3c
As usual, the WIPs are piling up and I fail to restrain myself from not starting a new one. I pray they'll be rendered some day....
2 of them I'm fondest of:
Vicente and Vylkaryn having a good laugh during their conversation, maybe reflecting on their individual times in Morrowind, with a good amount of blood in their system :)
Don't have it down to draw Vicente yet though. This is the first time I'm drawing him as seen in the remaster.
+ a daring gaze at Lucien's barren back. The man won't let go of me, I'm afraid. Not that I'm complaining xd
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I started a short fanfic involving our dear Speaker and his Silencer too, just about 3 weeks ago. It'll be spinning the tale of how Vylkaryn makes Lucien see sense in who the ACTUAL traitor will be. Maybe with a confession in order as well, hm?
Sadly, I'm a bit too shy to post a snippet of it yet. English not being my first language makes it hard to translate my usual style of writing. Having to switch back and worth between the translator and synonyms... Besides, there's still much to be improved on anyways. See you in a few months for this one xd
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I am tagging back (see this as an invite for the coming week):
@thegrunkiest @unironicallytes
and last, but not least:
@dark-brotherhoe @dirty-bosmer @rooksongbird
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
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Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
