Thank you so much for the tags! <3: @neloths-tea @honeybeebunny111 @nerevarbean @cresu @blue-dartwing
I have more of my doodles, but I tried to do something a little different with them. I haven't re-created my sketches the way I want yet, but I did fire up CSP, found a free comic template, and tried to do something a bit more creative.
Like, I tried XD
I included a little blurb I must have re-written twenty times in the last twenty minutes.
I am a little tired from work, so that blurb is definitely a WIP.
Kudos to whoever can find the hidden Sleep Token lyric <3
These were the moments she loved the most.
The quiet ones, where the silence was only broken by the rustle of bed linen and their slow exhaling breaths; where their limbs become entwined, and they hold fast to each other’s hands as though afraid the other would disappear.
These moments that felt stolen, secret, and treasured.
Moments that quelled the storms in her mind and brought it to a lulling calm she’s not sure she’s ever known.
Where all the thoughts and the words, words, all the words vanish, and it's only him -- them.
Moments where their bodies converse like old friends who have known each other from other lifetimes before. Sweet, languorous moments punctuated by soft, lingering kisses and gentle sighs, which conveyed all that remained unsaid between them.
These were the moments she needed the most.
Below, I did another concept sketch of my murder-hobbit Bosmer Lyra. I debated on sharing this because it comes across as very uncanny valley to me. I feel like if I add the antlers, it might be better -- also fix all the mistakes ><
I doodled the same pose and somehow got a completely different look, but I did force myself to draw it smaller, and I did have Freya in mind.
My usual disclaimer: If you want me to tag you, you can go ahead and tag me for this week (or all the weeks going forward xD)! I'm a big fan of boosting all your lovely work (be it art, fic, or whatever it may be!)
ALSO ALSO! If I tagged you and you don't want me to tag you anymore? Pls let me know ;___;
Below the cut are the sketches I forced into the template xD
I'm pretty proud of the hands but of course, see every mistake I made in the bottom two sketches. ;___;
Trying to draw a face hidden by another is a lot harder than I anticipated.
Dropping the wip of the first chapter to my new side project because why not 🤭 This continues right after the prologue that I shadowdropped the other day (here) if anyone is interested.
I wrote most of this with a tummy ache so apologies if it's not up to snuff. I'll be beefing this up later to make up for it.
--- (wip - 1,042 words) ---
Half a briar heart… a few heads of imp stool… a slice of Othjolf's last victim… netch jelly…
Feran put down his quill and leaned over his alchemy notes, reaching up towards a closed cabinet where the more delicate ingredients were stored. His index finger gently rifled through the jars, turning them in place until he found the netch jelly, scowling at it when he found it empty.
"Julekil am ot n'wah…" he hissed, releasing it with a clatter onto his table. CuSith, who was laying nearby, raised his head from over his paws, his undead eyes strangely animated when it spotted Feran get up from his stool. The hound rose and stepped forward, eager to please.
"Not now, mutt," Feran snapped, causing it to duck its head and return to its original place with a low, rumbling whine. "Vae!" He called out sharply, beginning up the stairs. He glanced towards her usual spot on the balcony where she would sort their ledger that held their stock, but it was empty.
Instead he turned and headed down the corridor, towards their shared chamber.
A large four poster bed sat in the middle, its ancient baldachin slightly threadbare but not as dusty as the others' chambers. All these lifetimes later, and Vaelith still kept up her old habits. Despite the bed barely being used with the exception of slaking their lust, it was always tended to.
'Tidiness keeps my candle aflame', she would say; or something to that affect. Feran would tease her, claiming that they were gods among mortals and that duties as trivial as dusting and rearranging sheets were nonsense, but she paid him no mind. Most days, focusing on those tasks were the only things that grounded her.
As predicted, her coffin was closed. He approached and rapped a quick knuckle against the wood. It creaked open a few moments later, and Vaelith stepped out, her head bowed and her expression withdrawn.
"Yes?" she asked softly.
"We're out of netch jelly. I don't suppose—" As he talked, she had raised her head, revealing tears trailing down each cheek. His words stopped short and he pressed his lips together, a curled finger gathering one of the tears on her left cheek. She inhaled sharply and quietly, turning her face away and swiftly wiping away the other tear, ashamed she had let him see her 'weakness'.
"Again, Vae?"
His tone was gentle, yet an unmistakable edge lurked beneath. He knew what it was she dreamt; she had made the mistake of telling him of her repeated nightmares around a thousand years ago. Ever since their transformation and initiation into their new life, more often than not she would awaken with tears in her eyes. Every time she slept, she dreamt of that night. The night they had died, and their world had darkened in countless ways.
"It's been a millenia," Feran added, following after her as she busied herself with nonsensical tasks. "He would have died of old age by now, you do realize?"
Her eyes snapped to his, flaring in anger. "Must you be so callous? He was our son! Your son!" she emphasized, boldly stepping forward and jabbing two fingers into his chest.
"Yes, our son that has been dead and gone for longer than the current dynasty has existed!"
"Does it not bother you that you've grown so cold? Not just to me, but to our lives. Our past. Does any of it mean anything to you?"
"On the contrary, it means everything. The way we lived, what we did, it is the very reason why we are alive toda—"
"—but we're not alive, Feran!" she cried, gesturing helplessly around the dimly lit room. To the dirty floor, dusty shelves, and the chalices of congealed blood from last night's meal.
"Would you rather us dead than immortal?" he retorted. Her hands flew up into the air.
"What difference is there?!" Already agitated with him, she turned her back to him and began gathering the dirty cups that littered the table that sat between their coffins.
"Vaelith, look at me." He forced her to drop her work and turn around, firmly holding her face in his hands and keeping her still. "I would rather endure that night a thousand times than for us not to have each other for eternity. We have been given a gift, my love."
At his words 'a thousand times' she felt bitterness rise inside of her. Did he truly grasp just how often she was plagued with the same nightmare? Would he ever truly understand the depth to which that blade gored her? A thousand times upon a thousand times would still remain one drop in an ocean that she doubted he even traveled.
"A gift. At the expense of our son," she whimpered, letting it be the last she says on the matter and signaling such by dropping her gaze. Feran's touch softened, and his expression turned somber. For a moment, she shied her face away from him, causing it to separate from his hand. He waited, letting another moment pass before connecting his touch to her again; knuckles brushed against the curve of her jaw, moving back and forth until she yielded her defenses.
"You speak truth," he agreed, dropping his voice to an undertone so as to not be overheard, "some of our ilk are not to be trusted. I knew as much since our arrival. Someday, I promise you, we will not need this coven any longer. My heart is as scarred as yours, Vaehla. Revenge will be ours. Do not mistake my severity for indifference. Ulien lives within us, as long as we exist. Nei?"
This. The ever fleeting moments that came in what seemed like every few years. The glimpse into the Feran she knew; the Feran she fell in love with. He would appear at times, taking over and making sure she knew he was still there inside that new fanged version of him she lived with and fought with and sometimes hated. He appeared as a kind touch, a kind word; arms wrapped around her or lips branding her underneath the sheets of their marriage bed. A reminder. A lure. A half-whispered promise.
Insurance that she stays.
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I am still working on TLOTK and will always work on it, but oftentimes I feel like it isn't a lot of folks' speed so I thought I'd start sharing other stuff. Vaelith has been stewing in my brain for a while so I'm excited to start actually posting her and Feran's story :)
Passing tags to/waving hi to: @heavy-metal-dick @skyrim-forever @theflowergrrl @the-radic0le @hircines-hunter @skyrimhusbandmaterial @friend-of-giants and whoever wants to share 🫶 love you all
In 2026, the chicest thing a gay actor can do is never explicitly come out as gay but also make it abundantly clear that he is. Coming out is too modern. Staying closeted is too old fashioned. But this method merges contemporary freedom with Old Hollywood glamour and allure, and it weeds out the dumbest people who truly don’t get it. I call it the Pascal Method.
You clearly don't go here or to queer history and signaling, or both, enough to have this conversation and I'm not going to explain it to you. You could have asked questions, you could have done even a modicum of research. You didn't and you made yourself look ignorant. Goodbye.
#I'm fucking crying#this is an instant classic#this is the next meme#i can't believe I'm here to see a baby copypasta nary two hours old#I can't#lol#i laughed way too hard#iconic
Hi everyone! I got some drawings in the works- not as much as I’d like but alas medical stuff is being annoying lol. Anyways! A lot of my WIP’s today are of the lil dovah fam 👀
Thank you to these folks for the tag:
@blue-dartwing
The newest one I was working on is actually between Kayla and her older brother. He’s an imperial legion captain and uh, well she gets swooped into the dark brotherhood so-you do the math 😭💀
More under the cut as always, just don’t want to too long lol!
As far as future fam goes, not all their names are totally set in place and could change but in, here’s that so far lol.
Next we got more of Miraak and his future mini 🥺😭 I love these two grumps so so much
There’s a few of these lil guys in the future but I’ve FINALLY managed to draw them all (kinda, almost OOP)
Here we have the only two sons of Kayla and Miraak out all them 😂 Zanon (the dark hair one) who’s the second born and Adrian (the white hair one) the youngest son. Much like Elliana is Miraak’s mini me, Adrian is Kayla’s mini me which is unfortunate for every one else- especially since he’s nearly as tall as Miraak 💀😭
Sending thoughts and prayers Tamriel, thoughts and prayers….
Next up is THE TWINS!
Yep they end up with twin gals. Shorter hair one is Stella, longer hair one with the orangie eyes similar to Miraak’s is Haven. :3
And I know I’ve already posted her but doing it again cuz it’s still a WIP! The oldest, Elliana ❤️ and her with Kayla as a lil baby 🥺💖
And to end it off with psychic damage, the first Dragonborn as a lil guy with his mama 😭😭😭
Tagging these lovely folks, no pressure of course ❤️:
No art wips this week everything is still such a mess, but I've done some writing! (anything but main obviously) I've bounced around so many different writing wips this week.
Writing Brynjolf getting injured got me spiraling first thing in the morning, (The best way to spend my days off for real) so I shall present you my wip of @tes-season-unending-fest first prompt about recovery. Shiala is having a healthy amounts of mental breakdown, as Brynjolf decided to disappear for couple of days without telling anyone where to. I can't wait to start making the art for this later!!
Words: 470ish
The next day arrives with a drag. Shiala sits at the Guild Master's desk sorting out the current loose jobs by the dates of their arrival. She darts each of them carefully, looking for any hints if he could have just gotten as a quick job by himself. None of them bring any clarity to her, however. Names of contracts and fences have all circled and marked in the order of priority with his simple system of numbers and shadowmarks, at first glance there's nothing put of the ordinary that catches her eye.
Only difference being that one of them had been crossed and corrected more than once.
Niranye, the fence of Windhelm. Someone that the city had been ridiculing for the longest time under a suspect for being an agent of Thalmor. Obviously, she wasn't, as far as Shiala was aware, Niranye despised them as much as they did. Time and time again she had gotten into problems with Summerset Shadows and them still attempting to gain footing, not in just Windhelm but other parts of Skyrim, too.
She feels a knot in her stomach forming. Brynjolf couldn't possibly be that stupid and go anywhere near Eastmarch by himself. The Jarl knows they are.. acquainted and his previous rustling of feathers had earned him a bounty on his head. Not to mention the amount of Thalmor that must have circled around the outskirts like vultures.
The wrong people among Skyrim have started to get intel she tried so dearly to protect — the people she holds dear. And the ones against her, or trying to get her to fight on their side, or even turn herself in—
She takes a moment for herself to breathe. Is she looking too much into this?
No. She isn't. Something must be wrong. She's waited long enough without him leaving a good reason and it's driving her more crazy she dares to admit.
"Hey, boss?" She hears the voice of Cynric behind, causing her to visibly jump on her chair.
"I'm not your boss, Cynric." She wants to snap at him harder calling her that. "Do you know anything about this?" She lands the piece of paper to him without looking at his direction. "I'm trying to trace where in Oblivion has Brynjolf gone before I begin to drop some heads."
"I mean.." he grimaces while digesting her threats, "You might want to see this."
Shiala's shoulders tense along her deep exhale. "I don't have the time to—"
She hears another pair of steps behind, and her words fade. The rhythm is light, but one-sided. Her body freezes in place.
"Missed me, lass?" Brynjolf stumbles in holding his rib and a day-old blood on his face. His chuckle followed by a sharp breath, he leans onto a stony wall, letting himself slowly drag and collapse on his knees.
So, Nat and Anca are A Thing, and I LOVE fluff and snuggles but my ace-spec brain doesn't think overmuch about...nekkid fun-time 🤷
Cue MY MOTHER. (💕)
I was telling rambling at her over Whatsapp about hotsprings vs the lack of bath-houses in Skyrim, and she says, "well, why not create some? I cant wait to see some nudie-elfies!"
Of course I drew her this:
(...Don't think I'll ever surpass it.)
But I knew I'd have to do a proper paint, so this Wednesday, I bring you "Post-Party" — FAR steamier than the Python parody I was doing:
Still fixing...everything...but I guess that's why it's called a WIP!
Everyone say, "thanks, Dart's Mum!" 😭😂
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No-pressure tagging heinous sleks (💕), beloved moots and whoever wants to join: