For the positivity asks!!! I remembered!

3. One of the best takes you’ve ever seen 6. Ship or platonic relationship that you got into because of the fans 17. Something you love that you don’t often share because you’re worried what others will think.

OH HELLO FRIENMBD <3 Let me do a positivity one first today!

Positivity Asks from this game right here.

3. One of the best takes you’ve ever seen

Since I've been YELLING all over tumblr about their work all day, for some reason ( :> ) I'm going to talk about @paraparadigm and @polypolymorph 's Soul Magic in Gathering Souls. (It's NECROMANCY!!!!!! I said I'd yell with ya'll.) Actually. Let me just.... let me let it speak for itself.

From Gathering Souls, Chapter 8: The moth’s soul was tiny—the smallest of flutters, like a gust of breath on one’s cheek. The moment of absorption would have been easy to miss had she not been vigilant to it. It came in a brief flash—a world illuminated, wrought in light of impossible complexity, shadows infinitely richer and more nuanced than hers where its perception stretched beyond her human spectrum. It was pure, unmuddled will, or perhaps pure desire—the moth noticed, therefore it went, with no separation between the doing and the doer, the subject and the object. Its pain was keen, yet brief. There had been neither fear, nor surprise, and she had to keep herself still as a pane of glass to avoid smearing it with her own reaction. She cradled the little thing, the feeling of it like some precious splinter she was loathe to break even as it buried itself in skin and flesh, then deeper until it slowed, suspended in the vast void she only noticed when she came into contact with whatever it was that constituted a being’s soul.

Augh. Just read the series and thank me later.

6. Ship or platonic relationship that you got into because of the fans.

The fans? Hmmmmmm. It's a good one. I really have to think about this one because obviously LDB / or LDB & fics are very common. But less so NPC/NPC. So I'm actually going to talk about a ship I didn't know I needed, or that other people needed, and still am baffled ya'll were behind something that, yes, originally started out as a hellship. I'm talking about Teldryn/Athis. (Ceth, augh your art. I love it. It's here for those wondering.) This ship has spawned two and a half stories so far and I really hope more people pick this ship or platonic relationship up. It works in its weird little way and the people who loved them and read my writing (the fans!) make me want to keep writing more of that.

17. Something you love that you don’t often share because you’re worried what others will think.

I usually am pretty transparent about what I love in fandom. I suppose what I don't say often is that while I don't read pwp, there are a great many fics that feature some degree of smut that has to do with the plot of the story, most of the time. I'll usually read through it unaffected, though, to be perfectly frank. ("Ah yes, good on ya, woo, you did it, now what's the next part of the story...?")

People assume because of my aceness that it affects me in some negative way. It doesn't. I just find it generally incredibly dull LOL. But there are a few pieces where it makes perfect sense to be happening, for the characters. When it's not in there for shock value, then it's good. Even better if it's more psychological, ie -- the less actually said, the more vivid? If that makes sense. No ikea manuals here, pff. No thanks, I know and I'm more than over it.

For the writing asks! Let's see: 🎉how often do you celebrate completing & posting a work? how often do you give yourself the credit/validation that you seek from others when you post? (if you don't, you should!) 🕯️was there a fic that was really hard on you to write, or took you to a place you didn't think it would take you? 🍭why did you start writing?

HOHOOHO. Interesting choices >:3c

✑ How often do you celebrate completing & posting a work? How often do you give yourself the credit/validation that you seek from others when you post? (If you don't, you should!)

Oh, I often am very excitable and celebratory after I post a chapter almost every time these days--especially if it's been a while or if shit goes down in said chapter ldfkjgkldfjgdf. I've certainly gotten much better about it in recent years, although I do still suffer from impostor syndrome and have doubts about my abilities when I'm in a foul mood. However, I've been training myself to seek validation from within myself and not from others. If other people like it, great! If not--also great! I know I ultimately love what I have and what I've done, and that's all that matters. I'm not perfect and still struggle to love myself, but for the most part I think it's definitely helped both my writing and overall creativity. Just let go of the silly, wasteful ideas of perfection and do it because I love it and it's fun. And because flaws are beautiful <3

✑ Was there a fic that was really hard on you to write, or took you to a place you didn't think it would take you?

The hardest thing about Petrichor was rewriting it. That was . . . daunting. And scary. Converting it from a series of one-shots to a full-fledged fanfiction and watching as my girls ran off with plots and ideas and dramatically shifted the narrative . . . . Terrifying. And now, in the sequel, I lack that structure that I had before, which is both freeing and . . . also scary AHA. I fear that my quality isn't the same, or that I'll run out of ideas . . . . Vigdis already walked in and axed a possible third book [for good reasons], so that's proven difficult as well. BUT! The challenge is half the fun! I love where the story is going and where the girls are taking me and I'm so very excited to keep following along to see how it all ends ;3c

✑ Why did you start writing?

My answer will probably sound a little silly . . . but if I go back to the very beginning of my writing journey--which was already half my life ago . . . . I started doing it because I wanted a piece of the magic that was 'Holy shit these words on a page can create an entire world in my head? What the fuck?? THAT'S AWESOME.' And then I had my own stories I wanted to tell. I would read books and play games and became so enamoured with those worlds that I just . . . I wanted to create in them, too. While Vigdis' story has certainly changed over the years, it's still a story that I very much want to write, and tell, and follow until the very end. It's a bit of a love letter to myself in some ways, addressing my own experiences in life, and allowing myself to indulge in a world and characters that I love beyond words. And that's a beautiful thing--to create out of love, for love. I wrote my very first story when I was 9 years old, but didn't really delve into the writing world until I was 12 [thanks Percy Jackson]. I wish I could tell her and show her how far she's come, because I think she would be so proud and so ecstatic to see how much she's grown. I thank her for discovering the beautiful and joyous world of writing because I would not be here, still writing, if she didn't. <3

what would teldryn and neloth look like as human beings?

To paraphrase @paraparadigm , I am ideologically opposed to this question, but in execution I find them to both be devastatingly attractive. So thank you for that, nonny!

I've missed a few weeks of WIP Wednesdays!

Tagged by the following wonderful and talented people: @gilgamish my eggplant knight, @kookaburra170, @thequeenofthewinter, @mareenavee, @changelingsandothernonsense, @dei2dei, @archangelsunited, @expended-sleeper, @paraparadigm, @downontheupside & @justafoxhound ✨

Dion Lesage x Joshua Rosfield. Final Fantasy 16 has me in a death grip.

Tagging: @oblivions-dawn @snippetsrus @mirrordaltokki @terralia & @dirty-bosmer

WIP Wahhhh

It's been a few weeks since I've posted one of these, over which I've been tagged by @elavoria @skyrim-forever @paraparadigm @thequeenofthewinter @dumpsterhipster @lucien-lachance @mareenavee @tallmatcha @ladytanithia @throughtrialbyfire @orfeoarte

Thank you friends!!! I'm very late but still here and still having a great time reading all your stuff 💕 No writing this week, but I've been fiddling around in procreate and have started on my first ever portrait. And because I am truly wed to my Oblivion dumpster fire of a story, of course the first thing I draw is Mathieu Bellamont ssakjdhljkf

Never used procreate before, and the only things I've drawn for the past 5+ years have been anatomical dissections of various fish LOL Turns out people have a lot of features fish do not so I have no idea what I'm doing most of the time 😅 Will learn... eventually.

Work in Progress Wednesday

Hello folks. Still chipping away at emotional Idiots (tm).

Tagging: @oblivions-dawn @mareenavee @dirty-bosmer @snowberry-crostata @throughtrialbyfire @skyrim-forever @rainpebble3 @umbracirrus @gilgamish @paraparadigm @ladytanithia and anyone else who wants to do this. My brain is Swiss cheese today.

If he could fix everything for her with a wave of his hand, he would, but things are not as simple as that. Ulfric’s heart sinks in his chest as he looks at her, a faint fluttering accompanying it as it always does when he is around her. He knows that he will lose more sleep, waste more precious time, and gather more papers spread from end to end of his desk with their new arrangement. A headache already pounds behind his temples at the thought, but in the end, it will all be worth it. It must be. Especially when he sees the hope glistening her eyes. How could he be so shortsighted?

Reaching forward, he takes her hand, a thumb massaging the back of it. “I know you want to and I know you would if you were able, my heart.” The tone is gentle as he plays the diplomat, ever trying to make amends. It is long overdue that he drew his attention back to her. Back to home. Back to his own needs. Their needs.

He only hopes he will be able to continue to walk the path of balance as he stands precariously between the line of a rock and a hard place. Falling through the cracks to the space between is not an option.

With all the grace she can, Dahlia holds smile on her face—genuine for once, yet fragile and ready to break like shattering glass as it hits stone floors. “I will take what you can give me. We will get through this, and we will be okay. We always are.”

As she says these words, Ulfric’s heart breaks just a little more.

Wip Wed/Thurs/Fri...whenever I feel like it!

Oh, look it's Friday now! Time to do the magic wip post!

Tagged by both @paraparadigm and @mareenavee, it's another pure art post because I've been in the zone with that recently.

So I'll float this brain worm along over!

It's going fine XD

Hey he's finished!

WIP Whenever!

I've been SICK, and SCARED, and working on my thesis. My country is falling apart and so is my body. Let's party!

Tagged by @mareenavee @boethiahspillowbook @throughtrialbyfire and many more over the weeks. sorry, i love you!

tagging @drowsy-fantasy @changelingsandothernonsense @paraparadigm @polypolymorph @kookaburra1701 @elfinismsarts @thequeenofthewinter @tallmatcha @thana-topsy @saltymaplesyrup @archangelsunited @inquisition-dragonborn @gilgamish @snippetsrus @rainpebble3 @rhiannon1199 @skyrim-forever @caliblorn @sephirajo @thalwhore @dunmer @gortrash @dirty-bosmer @thescrolls-haveforetold @marimomoth @elavoria and the girl (gender neutral) reading this! feel free not to do your own, feel free to tag me when you do your own!

Have some Saathel being a little shit

Silence embraced the pair like a foggy blanket in the cold air, dew coalescing minimally into suspended crystals stinging their faces with an adder's mettle.

Faendal flinched, sinking into himself. Unlike Saathel, he wasn't all too dressed for the weather.

"C'mere, fur is large enough."

He was unlikely to accept the kindness she had decided to extend, unlikelier to even look past her ill-fitting furs and decide he could nest in their warmth; but he did.

"They don't like our sort 'round here," Saathel started, moving to a side so he could cover himself with her cloak.

"You don't say," Faendal snorted, blowing warm air into his hands and rubbing them together.

"Mmh-hmm, and I wanna make them hate me."

His amber eyes went dark, almost lifeless for a second. It scared Saathel how eerily similar he looked to that mare she had killed earlier. Like an open flame, it spread; she knew the name of the emotion that tangled with her thoughts when death and the waking world mingled in such a way. The bruise on his face was already an angry red.

He shook his head. "Not a good idea. If they hate you, they'll do anything to make you feel unwelcome. Trust me."

If she looked at it enough, there was a thread begging to be pulled there. One of history, ready to see the light. Just a question was required, and Saathel was drunk enough to pry: "Sounds like experience."

His expression continued on its darkened course. Anything to see it lighten, anything but the touch of a mage.

"Well, I made myself an enemy. Sven, the bard in there—" Saathel interrupted him with a too-tardy smirk, gesturing her hands along.

"Nord plucking the strings like he's fingerin' a lass?"

A loud snort, more giggles shared under that pelt. Sometimes beating up a stranger was a good conversation starter.

"Y— Hah! Don't say it like that. I'd rather not have to picture that." Once Faendal could calm his breathing down, he sighed, shook his head, and continued. "We fancy the same woman, Camilla. He's made my life here miserable ever since I started courting her."

An owl passed soundlessly over their heads, the night hunter casting a shadow on them when its wings hid the moon. Saathel grinned. Inspired by its flight, she too could be silent and deadly.

"Court her harder and better. Or set him up for failure."

She didn't even need to suggest that, apparently. Faendal's eyes glittered, alight with energy and scheming once more. To be in pursuit of one's desires… always, the sweetest part of the hunt is the chase itself. She knew that to be true even when dealing with heart-hunts. For his part, Faendal looked to agree.

He wet his lips, cast a glance towards the dying lights of the tavern, and smirked.

"Think you could help me with that?"

[...]

If there was something Saathel loved, it was sticking her nose in matters that were firmly none of her business.

It's WIP Whenever Time Again!

Hi. So Wednesday arrived ridiculously fast, didn't it?

I've been tagged for this by the amazing @saltymaplesyrup, @oblivions-dawn and @thequeenofthewinter! Thanks for reminding me what day it was, I was completely unaware LOL

Tagging the fantastic @paraparadigm, @thana-topsy, @changelingsandothernonsense, @snippetsrus, @wildhexe, @elfinismsarts, @nuwanders, @miraakulous-cloud-district, @throughtrialbyfire, @expended-sleeper, @kookaburra1701, @archangelsunited, @dirty-bosmer, @viss-and-pinegar, @ladytanithia, @polypolymorph, @gilgamish, @tallmatcha, @rainpebble3, @late-nite-scholar, @greyborn2 and YOU -- yes, I know I haven't caught all of you in my tags, but I do wanna hear from you, so feel free to tag me back!

I have been BUSY lately with tons of prompts and some ask answers in prose and so I have a smattering of WIP fragments from different projects. SOME are gonna be sequel and/or spoiler territory for World. I'll mark them! Below the cut! THERE IS A LOT. 845 words or so, total.

1) In the Woods Somewhere - a ghost story told about an alternate version of Valenwood where the Wild Hunt went horribly wrong. 145 words.

They tower over all around them, monsters ever shifting from creature to terror and back again, mindless in their fury. All antler, exposed bone, sharp fangs and strips of rotting flesh held together with vines and thorns. If the pallid light of the bioluminescent fungi hits their talons just right, it might look like ebony daggers. But these? They are far sharper, designed to rend flesh from bone—to leave you as nothing but fertilizer for the soil in which new, gnarled trees might grow. There is no care—only malice, forms twisted by violence and starvation. In the darkness, all you can see is the red of their eyes which never leave you as you wander. They stalk through the night as if all living things are prey—as if all that remain in their realm have been deemed the enemy.

And they do not hunt alone.

2) By The Break of Dawn - A collab with @thequeenofthewinter and, for the art side of things, @thana-topsy (: Spooky, Doomed World sort of chaos. 182 words.

[Lydia] struck in the opening Uldwin had given her. She threw all of her fury behind the one movement she’d have time for. That which gave her the strength to drive her sword through his spine was not Aedric in origin, but she would take it, if it meant ending Uldwin’s suffering. She could almost hear Meridia cackle as the holy fire erupted from Dawnbreaker, enveloping his corpse. The stench of dry, burning flesh seared her nostrils and made her eyes water worse. Tears trailed through the ashes and dirt on her face as that which once had been Uldwin collapsed onto the floor at her feet. She withdrew Dawnbreaker with a sickening crunch which turned her stomach. The icy light where his eyes should have been blinked out. It was just as it had always been when fighting draugr.

Uldwin had been more than a draugr, though. He was her brother, in all ways that mattered. Neloth had taken him from her, and now it was time to pay for his crimes. Lydia would not let him escape her ire again.

3) And I'd Like To Say You're Never on My Mind - a fragment in Athis's POV, and is a SPOILER for World. 135 words.

“But you’d already made your choice long before.”

Amazing how easy it was to weaponize words. These, too, cut him as he spoke. He watched as she struggled and failed to hold back more tears. She could have just said instead of leaving him alone in what had once been their home to pace nervously, imagining the million ways she could’ve died. He felt hollow, but resisted once again the urge to wrap her in his arms. She didn’t need another chance. He’d given too many, and lost too much of himself in the process. 

Nyenna did, at least, have the courtesy to nod. She swallowed hard. “I’m so sorry, Athis. I didn’t mean—”

“—you did. You did mean it. Because you always had a choice. And each time you chose anyone else but me.”

4) Untitled Sequel - Teldryn's POV observing his daughter, Eris Sero, after being away from her for three years. Spoilers for World and the Sequel itself. 183 words.

“Ata!” she said with her usual bright smile. Her voice was slightly deeper than the last time he’d seen her, with more of a Winterhold brogue than he’d ever get used to. She regarded him briefly with her one good eye, its vermilion color brought out by the wine red of her mage's robes, then turned her dark eye to him. The grin faltered for a second, and then she reasserted it, shaking her head as if to dislodge a thought. Unnerving, whenever that happened. She dropped her bag there by the railing and rushed to him.

“Hla’sil,” he sighed, and enveloped her in his arms. She’d braided back her white hair, but, just like her mother’s, curls always escaped. He flattened out the shock of black strands that tended to fall into her face and kissed the top of her head. She’d only just turned twenty eight. What was that in human years? Gods, but time didn’t make any sense and passed like the flowing of a river. Ninteen, or there about. Too young for this kind of chaos. She’d always been.

5) Untitled Sequel - Eris's POV on another character, Nammu, technically not an OC. (: Spoilers, major spoilers, for this sequel. 200 words.

The Vision this time didn’t really match the ascetic monk sitting cross-legged before her now, but that didn’t matter much. She knew there was something other about him, even though he pretended to be just another Ashlander wanderer. He had magic, though, and, as Alma would say, the more of that, the better. Ata, she knew, would wholeheartedly disagree. In fact, her mere suggestion of Nammu meeting Ata back at the inn in New Balmora would likely cause problems. She just had a feeling about it, coming from the same place as the memories earlier. Weird.

Nammu stretched as he stood, leaning on a plain wooden staff. Unenchanted. Uncle Neloth would have tutted, calling it a wasted resource, but he was not here now. Nothing on Nammu was actually enchanted at all, come to think of it. Not the plain brown cloak, or the simple linen clothes, nor the dust covered boots. Not even the two lacquered wooden amulets he wore around his neck, one each with the Daedric symbols Ayem and Seht burned into them respectively. Maybe he meant to enchant them eventually. They looked more like mementos, to be perfectly honest, but she was not about to pry.

WIP Wednesday - A Line-storm Song

tagged by @elfinismsarts @thana-topsy 💚 @viss-and-pinegar @thequeenofthewinter

I am tagging @gilgamish @greyborn2 @dirty-bosmer @skyrim-forever @totally-not-deacon @mareenavee @paraparadigm @polypolymorph

Fandom: The Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim Rating: Explicit Category: M/M Genre: Old👏Men👏Yaoi👏 Pairing: Pavo Attius/Gat gro-Shargakh

Summary: Pavo and Gat weather a spring storm in the Reach.

My brain has revolted against only working on Aristeia during NaNoWriMo and I compromised by working on this one-shot which takes place in the same 'verse. I needed to let these two Married Forever guys fuck. And oh boy are they. Excerpt below is not explicit.

-------------

“Rain’s coming,” Gat said, leaning against the smelter as Pavo stepped out of the shadows of Kolskeggr mine. Pavo blinked a little in the late afternoon sun. The golden rays were illuminating white pillars of clouds in the east, only the deep purple shadows beneath them hinting at the possibility of inclement weather.

“I suppose I’ll do the evening chores early then,” Pavo said, moving to stand next to Gat. “Get Juniper settled before the tempest.”

Gat slipped his arm around Pavo’s waist, and Pavo leaned into his comforting bulk. Even after twenty years, his touch never failed to send a thrill down Pavo’s spine.

“I’ll finish up here, get everything secured against the wind,” Gat said against Pavo’s ear, his large tusks tracing the corner of Pavo’s jaw.

“Gat, I’m disgusting, at least wait until I’ve rinsed off!” Pavo yelped as Gat turned and took hold of him with both hands, pulling him close.

“Mmmm, if a little mine dust was a problem—” Gat buried his face in Pavo’s neck while Pavo laughed and tried to push him away. “—I don’t think my people would be nearly as numerous as they are.” He gave Pavo’s neck a final nip before releasing him.

“You’re insatiable,” grumbled Pavo. When he turned to head down the path to their cottage, Gat’s laughter followed him.

The chickens allowed him to drive them into their coop with the bribe of some kitchen scraps, but Juniper, their mule, brayed her protest when he came to collect her from her picket, despite the bucket of oats and corn he rattled at her.

“I know it’s early old girl. But you’ll be glad of the roof and walls tonight, mark my words. Don’t go kicking them down if the thunder gets loud, now.”

As he puttered around the small barn, Pavo heard the front door to the cottage open and shut several times. As he was filling the water trough, Gat appeared in the doorway, wearing a clean shirt with water droplets clinging to the fuzz of his shaved head.

“I left a towel and some clean clothes by the river for you,” Gat said.

“Oh? I thought the dirt was an Orc aphrodisiac,” Pavo said archly. “I’m getting mixed messages here.”

“Smelling like ore is one thing, smelling like Juniper is another.”

“Don’t listen to him Juniper, you smell wonderful.”

Gat laughed, and turned to leave. “I’ll get supper started. Don’t take too long—hey!” He whirled and Juniper brayed and tossed her head at his shout. Pavo just grinned back at him, trying to look entirely innocent and like someone who would never dream of pinching an Orc’s arse.

Shaking his finger at Pavo, and walking backwards until he was well out of range, Gat retreated back to the cottage.

A gift for the lovely @paraparadigm from @mareenavee and myself! Vera, my beloved. From “Always Read the Fine Print” on AO3.

WIP WEDNESDAY

By the pink spots of Talos’ pantaloons is it Wednesday already? In a bit of a funk and not feeling too confident right now but why not try to push out of it?

Thank you for the tag @thequeenofthewinter !

I’ll join in by tagging @mareenavee @vivifriend @paraparadigm @dirty-bosmer @saltymaplesyrup @gilgamish @polypolymorph @snippetsrus @thana-topsy @tallmatcha and anyone else who wants to play!

No screens to accompany the wip but this is my attempt at trying to get back into the swing of things. This is a new POV for my Layers of Snow and Ash fic

Chapter?? A True Son of Skyrim

The last thing Rei thought of before the giant’s club swung into him was the furious betrayal radiating from his best friend’s face. He had recklessly gone out looking for a fight, joining a patrol on its way to exterminate some giants bothering travellers near Kynesgrove. The beautiful road was bloodstained and strewn with shattered carts, the once peaceful area was ruined but Rei didn’t care, he needed that intensity. He relished the adrenaline burning through his veins as he fought the pain from his confrontation with Mea. It was his shitty luck that one of the bastards had swung for him. Time slowed down before the impact and Rei was forced to face the bitter questions, what happened between him and Mea? How had it gone so wrong?

His eyes shut as the club smashed into his gut and opened again in the Palace of the King’s infirmary. It took him a moment to recognise where he was. Everywhere in Windhelm was made of the same grey blocks and his ears were ringing too much to pick up on any sounds around him. He lay on a surprisingly comfortable bed, so it definitely wasn’t his parents’ house. His body felt lighter, his armour had been removed but there were the remnants of weight on his chest.

Slowly, he moved a finger, then another, and another until the feeling returned to his extremities. With that feeling came pain. Inescapable, pulsating agony. He cursed softly, attracting the attention of a healer.

The friendly blond healer smiled at him, a familiar and comforting expression. It was one Rei unconsciously returned and then grimaced. He tried to steady his breathing, but the persistent ache of broken ribs dulled his senses.

WIP Wednesday - Tides to Carry Us Home

Tagged by wonderful, talented friends: @mareenavee , @thequeenofthewinter, @rainpebble3, @kookaburra1701, @dirty-bosmer , and @throughtrialbyfire! Thank you all :D! I'm glad to say I actually have a snip for today?

Tagging: @tallmatcha @thana-topsy @changelingsandothernonsense and @paraparadigm anyone else who would like to join in <3

This is from Chapter 7, which I am currently editing right now for publishing :D!

if you can get through kaidan's cornball dad jokes, there's a fullmetal alchemist reference in here somewhere i promise

High on the mountain slopes, Markarth’s Drakeside was the terrace of the city that lorded over the lower half of the city. Its avenues had already been inhabited for a thousand years, and of course, a few thousand more didn’t stop anyone from exacting rent over them. The stone estates had remained unblemished by the years and unremarkable in the eyes of city’s inhabitants, something that Kaidan would never quite get used to.

All of this history in these stones, the people passed it by as if it were common timber and clay, and not the work of a genius people capable of creating buildings that could last with mountains bearing down on them. Vlindrel was the one of these buildings, tucked away into the mountainside. It belonged to one of the few inconspicuous neighborhoods of Drakeside, facing away from the rest of the city to the foundries far below, and that knocked down the rent to something manageable for someone born outside the aristocracy, but they would rub shoulders with the lower-ranking nobles living within the city.

Perfect for someone of Felix’s trade. Alchemy allured in a way that magic couldn’t— An elixir wasn’t an exploding ball of fire, a spear of ice, or a bloodthirsty daedra. It was milder. Material. Certain, one could say. That garnered a reputation of trust that couldn’t be done by a mage living outside a jarl’s court. To Nords, the alchemist was of their world, someone who used the natural elements from the earth and melded them into something useful and good. Felix used this reputation to a fantastic degree, getting contract after contract from the nobles in the city, but sometimes, it got him a little too invested in his work, as Kaidan had found the larder was empty that morning. A bit odd for someone like Felix. Like his laboratory, he always kept his larder stocked.

“Just a walk about the gardens. Get some sunlight,” Kaidan said from the study’s door frame, as he dared to go no further. References thick as bricks were, at first, methodically and carefully stacked on the floor, as if to form a perimeter of gilded rexine and leather. But the further one went within, the neat stacks joined piles of loose paper, and crumpled notes too precious to lose. Every remotely flat surface had been covered, save for the single spot on the floor where Felix sat with knees pulled to his chest as he, with a angry twist of his hand, unbound another pamphlet.

“I’ll be fine in here. I’ve almost found the cipher for it.” Gutted, the papers dropped onto the floor. Felix sorted through it, muttering under his breath. He looked even smaller in the room he had effectively turned upside down, all in search of a scrap of paper no longer than his thumb.

Felix slapped a stack of papers together and set them down in one pile, then turned the next pile and started his search all over again. On first glance, they were some horrifically sappy love poems. Other papers were letters back home to relatives that Felix did not have, or details on how to conduct certain chirurgical operations, accompanied by past experiences. Some embellished, and others definitely not, written to the finest, most grisly details.

“You’ve been looking for it for three days.” “I’ll be in here for another week or two if I have to decode all of these again. Maybe longer.” “Why do you write your notes in code again?” “Job security.” Squinting, Felix adjusted the spectacles, leaving a smudge of dust on his nose. His fingertips were black with the dirt and dust. “Maybe taking a break will give you new ideas on where to find the cipher?” Kaidan suggested. “I just got started?” “You’ve been in here since this morning.” “Really? I…” He glanced back at where the water-clock sat at desk, but the poor contraption had been buried long ago among the reference tomes. “… Lost the time?” offered Kaidan.

Felix snorted. “That’s awful.” But he did laugh. Kaidan counted that a victory. “And we can also go by that one stall you like.” “With the pita and fried fish?” “I’m buying,” Kaidan confirmed. Felix patted his knees where he sat, balled up on the floor, but it didn’t take long for him to make up his mind. His appetite, as per usual, won out. Throwing on an overcoat and doublet, Felix joined him in Markarth’s late afternoon.

First WIP of the Year! Thanks for all the tags this week and last: @thequeenofthewinter @skyrim-forever @elavoria @ladytanithia @lucien-lachance @nuwanders @rainpebble3 @chennnington

From the The Illusionist (sorry for slow updates the writers block is real 😅). A tense convo between Mephala and Nim:

“No, blood will flow as surely as the spinning wheel revolves. Such is the cycle. That you choose to press on aimlessly, widdershins, is of no consequence to Me. Not anymore. I offered you sanctuary, an anchor, a chance to learn what glory could be gained in sacrifice, and instead you clung to this bland mortal life as if it could save you from your nature. Dear Brother, how fruitlessly you toil, trying to keep yourself concealed. So lean you’ve grown in your denial that it’s almost laughable to watch you. Warping, twisting, draining all those caught in your web as if their disfigurement could make your ugliness anymore bearable. As if picking at their threads could ever grant you the power to weave something greater than My tapestry.” Nim rubbed at her nose with the back of her hand, wiped whatever came out on her blouse. “Alright,” she said, “Now can you open the door, or is there more you wish to say? I understand you’re quite upset, maybe feeling a bit cheated in all this. Jealous even, given the circumstances, and while not my intention, I—” “Jealous!” The laugh that bubbled up from that bottomless well of Mephala’s voice elicited a sour taste in Nim’s mouth and the desperate urge to spit. “You poor, misguided Brother of Mine. Did you think to leave here a hero, right what was never wrong? You have taken nothing from Me that I won’t get back ten-fold.” “Okay then. One day I’m sure we’ll look back on all this and laugh.” She gestured again to the door. “So…” “Blind as a worm yet not half as supple.” Mephala’s scoff hung heavy with disgust. “One day you will learn that the end and the beginning are one and the same whether you fork left or fork right. Haven’t you realized by now that every step you take in this world serves the same function? All you’ve done is drag the wheel along another turn.” Whether Mephala’s magic had receded or Nim had found a means to dislocate, she couldn’t say, but the sticky mantle on her skin had lifted, leaving only the weight of the sanctuary’s damp cold. Time elongated, ticked by, chewed at her heels like famished rats gnawing at wallpaper paste, and Nim found herself staring again at the Black Door, staring hard, willing herself to find some message, some meaning in the negative space of the stone relief. Reliving the moment when it all went wrong, when she had become irrevocably loosened from the woman she’d imagined herself to be, she found it. There chiseled upon the door was a vision of the future— a warning or a promise to all those who entered— one fate had since collected upon. How many times had she passed through and refused to consider it in earnest? There, an example for all those who called this place home that the blood of the covenant flowed only one way, and the beating heart it supplied had never been her own.

Tagging forward: @atypicalacademic @memaidraws @justafoxhound @inkysqueed @wispstalk @throughtrialbyfire @viss-and-pinegar @kookaburra1701 @paraparadigm

Happy Wednesday! I’m alive and kicking (and still not drawing). 

WIP it good: @hogsbando @gilgamish @paraparadigm @justafoxhound @thequeenofthewinter @mareenavee @elavoria @varlaisart @downontheupside

Uh, Work-in-Progress Wednesday?

Unfortunately, I have nothing with which to feed the ducks of WIP Wednesday. Things have been very chaotic over here as I had a bad allergic reaction to something yesterday, and I am still trying to recover from that. I offer you...the one sentence which I do have.

I'll get back to others as I recover the will to survive. Promise.

@oblivions-dawn @mareenavee @dirty-bosmer @umbracirrus @throughtrialbyfire @paraparadigm @skyrim-forever @snowberry-crostata @gilgamish @tallmatcha @kookaburra1701 @rainpebble3

There have been many moments over the last three years when Dahlia has questioned her sanity; however, none have made her do so more than right now.