Meg || 27 || she/her I write fanfic, sometimes draw, and like to play fantasy RPGs. Mostly Skyrim. Umbracirrus on AO3. Header by the immensely talented @hircines-hunter-!!!!
I'm Meg, 27, she/her, from England. I like to write fanfiction (primarily for Skyrim/Elder Scrolls though will occasionally do other things!), and do little doodles and drawings typically for the same fandoms.
I am also the resident Balgruuf fucker.
I do occasionally post mature content (though as a UK user who knows if that'll work from now on 😭), I will block minors if necessary.
My AO3 is umbracirrus! So is my Bluesky! Same username 😊 I don't post much on bsky at the moment, but will start posting fic update links and art on there soon.
Friends and mutuals can add me on discord! I am also umbracirrus on there! Let me know who you are if your username is different :)
Masterlists
OC Masterlist Post (to be added)
Writing Masterlist Post
Tags
My general text posts will be tagged as #meg is rambling
When I post my writing on here, I use the tag #meg has done some writing
When I post my drawings here, I use the tag #meg has done some drawing
When I post my cross stitching, I use the tag #meg has done some cross stitching
Other miscellaneous tags:
Things that Balgruuf and Elyse (my main LDB) do as a couple #Balyse couple stuff
Been unable to lock in on a single WIP still, and am jumping between many at present, but today's snippet comes from Seeking the Sun (my Skyrim main quest fic with Elyse!)
Tagging @hircines-hunter @cresu @sulphuricgrin @heavy-metal-dick @friend-of-giants @chiqita @skyrim-forever @theoneandonlysemla and anyone I may have forgotten (brain is mush at the time I am scheduling this 😆), and of course an open tag to anyone who wants to say that I tagged them <3 Obviously no obligations!!!
The air in the cavern felt cooler than the rest of the ruins, no doubt helped by the holes in the ceiling which allowed the moonlight to drift in. Had she really been in there long enough for it to turn to night…?
However, it was not the streams of light which captured her attention in the area, no. It was the intricate tomb placed upon a raised platform on the opposite side to her, and the wall which curved around it, smooth in contrast to the rugged stones across the rest of the room. Taking a deep breath, she began to make her way towards it, casting a candlelight spell in one hand, drawing the magicka to summon Spectre once more in the other, and taking a brief glance towards the dagger tucked into her coat’s belt.
When she made her way up the steps to the platform, the air seemed to still and almost thicken around her. Breathing felt harder than it did a few moments earlier. And the wall… she could not tell if it were an issue with her eyes or not, but the engravings upon it appeared to both blur or shift. One moment, it looked to simply be primitive scratches, easily something done with a hammer and chisel or another such tool used for carving. The next? It was in script which she knew, which she understood. Tamrielic. No doubt some sort of magic, especially given that a specific set of scratches, a specific word, appeared to shift and unlike any other markings, glow.
Eventually, she chose to release the magicka to summon Spectre, the wolf choosing to sit beside her quietly, so that she could pull out her notebook and make note of what was written to see if it was any indication of what was going on. When she eventually reached the end of the words, she came to the realisation that she was for certain in the right place.
“Here lies the guardian, keeper of the dragonstone… and a force of unending rage and darkness.” Then she turned to her companion, just wanting to let out some relief that she hadn’t been sent on a pointless endeavour. “Farengar’s lead was right, Spect-”
The sound of stone shifting from behind her made her freeze, and the wolf quickly jump up and turn around with a loud growl. The tomb. She had forgotten about the tomb.
She quickly slammed her book shut and went to shove it back into her satchel – a difficult task with the awkwardly shaped golden claw also within it – before having to quickly duck down as she caught the sight of an axe being swung in her direction. Fortunately, it just missed her, only catching the very ends of her hair and leaving what looked to be frost across the newly shortened strands, before Spectre lunged into action and latched onto the draugr’s leg.
Taking a deep breath, she stood up straight once more and began to conjure flames into her hands. This draugr was hopefully the last thing standing between her and finally making her way to Winterhold. Nothing more could get in her way – except possibly Korir. But she could deal with that when she reached her destination, and not a moment sooner.
apologies to anyone who ever thought i was cool and reached out to me only to discover i am just a weird little hermit who can't carry on a conversation to save my life
Been unable to lock in on a single WIP still, and am jumping between many at present, but today's snippet comes from Seeking the Sun (my Skyrim main quest fic with Elyse!)
Tagging @hircines-hunter @cresu @sulphuricgrin @heavy-metal-dick @friend-of-giants @chiqita @skyrim-forever @theoneandonlysemla and anyone I may have forgotten (brain is mush at the time I am scheduling this 😆), and of course an open tag to anyone who wants to say that I tagged them <3 Obviously no obligations!!!
The air in the cavern felt cooler than the rest of the ruins, no doubt helped by the holes in the ceiling which allowed the moonlight to drift in. Had she really been in there long enough for it to turn to night…?
However, it was not the streams of light which captured her attention in the area, no. It was the intricate tomb placed upon a raised platform on the opposite side to her, and the wall which curved around it, smooth in contrast to the rugged stones across the rest of the room. Taking a deep breath, she began to make her way towards it, casting a candlelight spell in one hand, drawing the magicka to summon Spectre once more in the other, and taking a brief glance towards the dagger tucked into her coat’s belt.
When she made her way up the steps to the platform, the air seemed to still and almost thicken around her. Breathing felt harder than it did a few moments earlier. And the wall… she could not tell if it were an issue with her eyes or not, but the engravings upon it appeared to both blur or shift. One moment, it looked to simply be primitive scratches, easily something done with a hammer and chisel or another such tool used for carving. The next? It was in script which she knew, which she understood. Tamrielic. No doubt some sort of magic, especially given that a specific set of scratches, a specific word, appeared to shift and unlike any other markings, glow.
Eventually, she chose to release the magicka to summon Spectre, the wolf choosing to sit beside her quietly, so that she could pull out her notebook and make note of what was written to see if it was any indication of what was going on. When she eventually reached the end of the words, she came to the realisation that she was for certain in the right place.
“Here lies the guardian, keeper of the dragonstone… and a force of unending rage and darkness.” Then she turned to her companion, just wanting to let out some relief that she hadn’t been sent on a pointless endeavour. “Farengar’s lead was right, Spect-”
The sound of stone shifting from behind her made her freeze, and the wolf quickly jump up and turn around with a loud growl. The tomb. She had forgotten about the tomb.
She quickly slammed her book shut and went to shove it back into her satchel – a difficult task with the awkwardly shaped golden claw also within it – before having to quickly duck down as she caught the sight of an axe being swung in her direction. Fortunately, it just missed her, only catching the very ends of her hair and leaving what looked to be frost across the newly shortened strands, before Spectre lunged into action and latched onto the draugr’s leg.
Taking a deep breath, she stood up straight once more and began to conjure flames into her hands. This draugr was hopefully the last thing standing between her and finally making her way to Winterhold. Nothing more could get in her way – except possibly Korir. But she could deal with that when she reached her destination, and not a moment sooner.
Been unable to lock in on a single WIP still, and am jumping between many at present, but today's snippet comes from Seeking the Sun (my Skyrim main quest fic with Elyse!)
Tagging @hircines-hunter @cresu @sulphuricgrin @heavy-metal-dick @friend-of-giants @chiqita @skyrim-forever @theoneandonlysemla and anyone I may have forgotten (brain is mush at the time I am scheduling this 😆), and of course an open tag to anyone who wants to say that I tagged them <3 Obviously no obligations!!!
The air in the cavern felt cooler than the rest of the ruins, no doubt helped by the holes in the ceiling which allowed the moonlight to drift in. Had she really been in there long enough for it to turn to night…?
However, it was not the streams of light which captured her attention in the area, no. It was the intricate tomb placed upon a raised platform on the opposite side to her, and the wall which curved around it, smooth in contrast to the rugged stones across the rest of the room. Taking a deep breath, she began to make her way towards it, casting a candlelight spell in one hand, drawing the magicka to summon Spectre once more in the other, and taking a brief glance towards the dagger tucked into her coat’s belt.
When she made her way up the steps to the platform, the air seemed to still and almost thicken around her. Breathing felt harder than it did a few moments earlier. And the wall… she could not tell if it were an issue with her eyes or not, but the engravings upon it appeared to both blur or shift. One moment, it looked to simply be primitive scratches, easily something done with a hammer and chisel or another such tool used for carving. The next? It was in script which she knew, which she understood. Tamrielic. No doubt some sort of magic, especially given that a specific set of scratches, a specific word, appeared to shift and unlike any other markings, glow.
Eventually, she chose to release the magicka to summon Spectre, the wolf choosing to sit beside her quietly, so that she could pull out her notebook and make note of what was written to see if it was any indication of what was going on. When she eventually reached the end of the words, she came to the realisation that she was for certain in the right place.
“Here lies the guardian, keeper of the dragonstone… and a force of unending rage and darkness.” Then she turned to her companion, just wanting to let out some relief that she hadn’t been sent on a pointless endeavour. “Farengar’s lead was right, Spect-”
The sound of stone shifting from behind her made her freeze, and the wolf quickly jump up and turn around with a loud growl. The tomb. She had forgotten about the tomb.
She quickly slammed her book shut and went to shove it back into her satchel – a difficult task with the awkwardly shaped golden claw also within it – before having to quickly duck down as she caught the sight of an axe being swung in her direction. Fortunately, it just missed her, only catching the very ends of her hair and leaving what looked to be frost across the newly shortened strands, before Spectre lunged into action and latched onto the draugr’s leg.
Taking a deep breath, she stood up straight once more and began to conjure flames into her hands. This draugr was hopefully the last thing standing between her and finally making her way to Winterhold. Nothing more could get in her way – except possibly Korir. But she could deal with that when she reached her destination, and not a moment sooner.
not every mutual fits neatly into an archetypal medievalism but there are some mutuals that im like yeah addressing you as “my liege” would come strangely naturally
In whatever medium pleases you, incorporate this prompt into a creative work and tag @tes-season-unending-fest so that it can be shared here. There is also an ao3 collection if you would also like to add it there!
With Alduin's death comes a level of uncertainty in Aevra's life - the events which began the former soldier's journey as Dragonborn meant that she was not a welcome sight to those she once saw as friends and allies. Of course, fate would be cruel enough to decide what happens next for her, and she chooses to go along willingly.
The Stormcloaks don't take that sitting down.
Chapter excerpt:
"Long time no see, old friend."
Aevra’s mouth felt dry as she took in the person who had sat down, before forcing through the anxiety which she felt and giving a slight nod. "Rikke."
The Legate gave what looked to be an exhausted smile in her direction. "Aevra. You’re looking well… We haven’t spoken in quite some time."
"It has been a while," she stated, before nodding towards the food. "That yours?"
Rikke folded her arms over and sighed. "It really has… and no, that’s for you. You just came down from High Hrothgar and only got yourself a mead, you need to restore your energy somehow."
So she was being watched. Perhaps she simply noticed too late that it was the case.
Silently, she pulled the bowl closer before giving a quiet thanks, though a quiet tension lingered in the air between the two of them. Of course there would be.
"So… How has it been in Castle Dour? Tullius hasn’t been working you to the bone, has he?"
Another update, and things are starting to take a more concerning turn with the Skyrim Civil War......
AO3 Link
Fic rating: E
Fic relationships: Balgruuf the Greater/Elyse Verne (Female Dragonborn)
Chapter title: Korvanjund
Chapter description:
Elyse is called upon all too soon after taking on her new role as one of Balgruuf's advisors when a battle breaks out just beyond the hold's borders.
Chapter excerpt:
“We can work our way up in volume. Obviously we shall have a control, and then… Hm. Perhaps a third of the powdered scale in one vial, and the remaining two thirds in-“
In the middle of Farengar’s mumbling about the logistics of the test, the emergence of Irileth in the doorway to the study caught them by surprise. “Dragonborn. The Jarl needs you; something has arisen that we think you need to hear out here.”
Elyse slowly put the pestle down, and frowned as she glanced between the housecarl and Farengar. “Do you mind if-“
“Go, go. I know of your new role and that it could pull you away at a moment’s notice. I will let you know the outcome of the mixtures when I have finished here.” As if to make his point, Farengar made a shooing gesture in her direction before pulling the mortar towards himself.
Taking a deep breath, she rose from her seat, and began to make her way towards the main hall.
With Alduin's death comes a level of uncertainty in Aevra's life - the events which began the former soldier's journey as Dragonborn meant that she was not a welcome sight to those she once saw as friends and allies. Of course, fate would be cruel enough to decide what happens next for her, and she chooses to go along willingly.
The Stormcloaks don't take that sitting down.
Chapter excerpt:
"Long time no see, old friend."
Aevra’s mouth felt dry as she took in the person who had sat down, before forcing through the anxiety which she felt and giving a slight nod. "Rikke."
The Legate gave what looked to be an exhausted smile in her direction. "Aevra. You’re looking well… We haven’t spoken in quite some time."
"It has been a while," she stated, before nodding towards the food. "That yours?"
Rikke folded her arms over and sighed. "It really has… and no, that’s for you. You just came down from High Hrothgar and only got yourself a mead, you need to restore your energy somehow."
So she was being watched. Perhaps she simply noticed too late that it was the case.
Silently, she pulled the bowl closer before giving a quiet thanks, though a quiet tension lingered in the air between the two of them. Of course there would be.
"So… How has it been in Castle Dour? Tullius hasn’t been working you to the bone, has he?"
Another update, and things are starting to take a more concerning turn with the Skyrim Civil War......
AO3 Link
Fic rating: E
Fic relationships: Balgruuf the Greater/Elyse Verne (Female Dragonborn)
Chapter title: Korvanjund
Chapter description:
Elyse is called upon all too soon after taking on her new role as one of Balgruuf's advisors when a battle breaks out just beyond the hold's borders.
Chapter excerpt:
“We can work our way up in volume. Obviously we shall have a control, and then… Hm. Perhaps a third of the powdered scale in one vial, and the remaining two thirds in-“
In the middle of Farengar’s mumbling about the logistics of the test, the emergence of Irileth in the doorway to the study caught them by surprise. “Dragonborn. The Jarl needs you; something has arisen that we think you need to hear out here.”
Elyse slowly put the pestle down, and frowned as she glanced between the housecarl and Farengar. “Do you mind if-“
“Go, go. I know of your new role and that it could pull you away at a moment’s notice. I will let you know the outcome of the mixtures when I have finished here.” As if to make his point, Farengar made a shooing gesture in her direction before pulling the mortar towards himself.
Taking a deep breath, she rose from her seat, and began to make her way towards the main hall.
i love you indulgent self-inserts. i love you OC. I love you Reader. I love you (y/n). love love you niece of a side character. I love you seamless addition who slowly diverts canon. I love you Deus Ex Machina fix-it character. I love you Mary-Sue. I lov
With Alduin's death comes a level of uncertainty in Aevra's life - the events which began the former soldier's journey as Dragonborn meant that she was not a welcome sight to those she once saw as friends and allies. Of course, fate would be cruel enough to decide what happens next for her, and she chooses to go along willingly.
The Stormcloaks don't take that sitting down.
Chapter excerpt:
"Long time no see, old friend."
Aevra’s mouth felt dry as she took in the person who had sat down, before forcing through the anxiety which she felt and giving a slight nod. "Rikke."
The Legate gave what looked to be an exhausted smile in her direction. "Aevra. You’re looking well… We haven’t spoken in quite some time."
"It has been a while," she stated, before nodding towards the food. "That yours?"
Rikke folded her arms over and sighed. "It really has… and no, that’s for you. You just came down from High Hrothgar and only got yourself a mead, you need to restore your energy somehow."
So she was being watched. Perhaps she simply noticed too late that it was the case.
Silently, she pulled the bowl closer before giving a quiet thanks, though a quiet tension lingered in the air between the two of them. Of course there would be.
"So… How has it been in Castle Dour? Tullius hasn’t been working you to the bone, has he?"
I miiiiiight post the first chapter of my Galmar/OC fic later too. I'm trying not to... sit on things? Trying to see if posting things helps my motivation and keeps the creative fuel going <3
Another update, and things are starting to take a more concerning turn with the Skyrim Civil War......
AO3 Link
Fic rating: E
Fic relationships: Balgruuf the Greater/Elyse Verne (Female Dragonborn)
Chapter title: Korvanjund
Chapter description:
Elyse is called upon all too soon after taking on her new role as one of Balgruuf's advisors when a battle breaks out just beyond the hold's borders.
Chapter excerpt:
“We can work our way up in volume. Obviously we shall have a control, and then… Hm. Perhaps a third of the powdered scale in one vial, and the remaining two thirds in-“
In the middle of Farengar’s mumbling about the logistics of the test, the emergence of Irileth in the doorway to the study caught them by surprise. “Dragonborn. The Jarl needs you; something has arisen that we think you need to hear out here.”
Elyse slowly put the pestle down, and frowned as she glanced between the housecarl and Farengar. “Do you mind if-“
“Go, go. I know of your new role and that it could pull you away at a moment’s notice. I will let you know the outcome of the mixtures when I have finished here.” As if to make his point, Farengar made a shooing gesture in her direction before pulling the mortar towards himself.
Taking a deep breath, she rose from her seat, and began to make her way towards the main hall.
Tagged by (over the last weeks): @chiqita @heavy-metal-dick @anilliscarts @sulphuricgrin @cresu @umbracirrus @hircines-hunter @friend-of-giants @silly-little-diary @firefly-factory @thequeenofthewinter
Tagging: @luciolafantastic @dirty-bosmer @skyrim-forever @changelingsandothernonsense @blue-dartwing @sanzas-reverie @vanilleeistee @elavoria @labskeever @sunlightpassingthroughthewater @pocket-vvardvark @ladytanithia with no pressure attached <3
Uhm, I'm back? I had horrible two weeks with a lot of pain and stuff, really a mood killer. Sometimes I had WIPs to share but did not feel like it, other days, I was dying inside so no WIPs. But hey, I feel very good right now (a bit too good to be honest, that's a bit sus but I blame the sun) and so you're getting art WIPs and a writing WIP! Hooray!
Starting out with art, as always:
First one is Ria who has gotten a dress now and simple shading is taking place. Man, Mannimarco's hand looks so weird popping up but it is, as always, very trust the process. I will put some hair over it :P
Second one is progress on Nirya and another example how the first layer of shadow and highlights can already do so much! She's getting a face!
On with writing!
I'm working on chapter 46 of Dealings with Daedra: The Curse of Molag Bal at the moment and it's taking me sooo long. But as my energy has suddenly returned, I hope to finish that one soon. And after that comes the coolest chapter, because the dummies are summoning the worm king! <3
Anyway, I'm sharing something else today. I think I talked a bit about how I'm doing a rewrite of the first DwD part. I'm working on chapter 5 right now and pulled the end of chapter 4 into that, because I added an entire new scene in chapter 4 😌Anywayyy.... have the rewritten scene of Nevri and Canmal encountering a troupe of cultists on their way to Winterhold!
Under the cut for length (503 words):
Nevri woke again when Canmal softly nudged her shoulder. She was awake in an instant, eyes wide open and sucking in a hard breath that burned in her throat. Cold and ash mingled in her lungs and she coughed, then rushed up into a sitting position.
“Damn Nine, you are skittish,” Canmal said and eyed her from the side. “It’s okay; it’s just your turn to take the watch.”
But Nevri froze in her seat, stared through a gap in the walls of the fort. There, still far form them, bopped a small, silver light looking very much like a conjured spell of Magelight. Absolutely silent, she listened into the night, trying to make out anything. The crackle of the fire swallowed everything, but there, coming closer, was a second light source. This time, a flame on a torch not unlike those the guards of Windhelm carried with them in the night. But there was another, and then another one, followed by two more Magelights. A procession of people made their way from Winterhold past the fort and whoever that was, it was better to not be seen by them.
Breathing shallow, Nevri gathered sand in her hands and threw it on the sickly flame of their campfire – one after another suffocating it.
“What are you doing?” Canmal whispered.
But Nevri stared into the night, saying nothing. Too great was her fear, the agitating feeling in her chest that drove her on. She was on her feet now, the crossbow drawn from her back and in her hands, positioning herself so, that she might not be seen through the opening. The mail on her body sensed her tension and did its work, hid her in a dense, dark mist. There she now sat and waited. Canmal lowered next to her, spied into the darkness.
“Shit,” he exclaimed under his breath, now too having discovered the gathering of dancing light.
Silence settled between them as they waited for the group to pass the fort. Steps grew louder, armours clattered. People talked, some with a distinct Vaardenfell accent. Dunmer? But some spoke with the rolled R of the Nord. A mixed group, just like… No.
“Who are they?” Canmal asked quiet as a mouse.
Nevri stayed still, waited. The first one passed the opening and in their light, she noted the shaven head, the crusted tattoo on one side of the skull. On their belt hung not only an axe but too a dark, slim dagger. Ebony, without question. A Blade of Sacrifice.
“It’s the cult,” she muttered. “Part of it.”
Five people had passed now, and it seemed to be half of them. What where they doing here? The cult did not move in such big groups around the province. Some of the followers were just visitors at the Sacellum and returned to their homes, yes. But those always were single wanderers, perhaps a family. But never so many. And not so far away from the Sacellum.
“They search for me,” she concluded aloud.
Jarl Balgruuf enthusiast💛 @umbracirrus - Tumblr Blog | Tumgag
