#[ but I'm looking forward to writing with youse ]

[paleowl]

LIKE FOR A STARTER guys! ✨🦉

[changelingsandothernonsense]

Back doing wips

Tagged by @mareenavee Thanks for sticking with me while I'm being highly transient <3

It's been almost a month since I last did one of these. Mostly because I'm tired and drained by some IRL issues... We do have art and writing though. I'm still creating, just being more choosy as to who and when I share my work.

So youse are getting drip-fed Joshi instead.

4th era Joshi painting. I can't wait to detail those Mourning and Attonement scars.

And more progress on Dwifi! Look at him tying up his hair. Starting on his scaring. Poor guy misses that nipple! Writing and surprise screen under the cut <3

Also shhhhhh I made him in BG3 and he looks fantastic.

Ok a little bit of writing. Getting caught by ash creatures whilst diving through Kogoruhn.

He was blinded by a flash, green light invading in vision. A sudden pressure against his chest, winding him. He coughed, gasping for air. His limbs once again felt like lead. Teldryn’s vision blurred, darkness slowly overcoming him. Voices chittering, screeching. Lost and blind. Purposeless. From somewhere across the room Teldryn heard heavy, hollow breaths. A tugging at his armour. He felt something pulling him upright as the room went dark.

Images, words, screams all flashed before him as he drifted in and out of consciousness. Long, endless hallways. The cursed passing by as if he wasn’t there at all. Their eyes hollow, their skin dry and pale, like the ash that surrounded them. Odd growth distorted the forms of some. Reminiscent of a fate he thought he’d already outrun.

Blood, paper, sigils. Dreamers mindlessly chanted as they etched the symbols into the dust. Hollow sockets and wide mouths. Towering creatures with proboscises, trunks. Motheaten robes stirring up dust.

Furniture stacked and coins obsessively arranged.

“The chairs. The tables. All confused,” the words fell from his lips, his own and yet not. He didn’t remember opening his mouth. His head lulled to the side and his limbs refused to move, as much as he tried to fight. He was being dragged deeper and deeper into the ruin. An aqueduct, long, labyrinthian. Its tunnels like the winding canals of Vivec City’s extensive sewer network. Long winding tunnels that seemingly went on forever. Stagnant water pooled under his dragging feet.  There was a collapsed section of plaster. An earthen tunnel carved into the citadel’s foundations. A shabby wooden door blocked the way forward. The creature dragged him through it and into a cool, dark cavern. Large braziers illuminated the seemingly endless tunnels. Cauldrons of flesh, piles of infected tissue. Each vessel was crowded over by several, withered forms. Fighting and tearing at each other in an attempt to feast upon the festering viscera. He could feel them pull at his mind. Enticing him. Compelling him to join. No!

‘These are the gifts I offer, Moon-and-Star.’ No!

‘Do not take their offers. They promise and they promise but they are all hollow, Lukal. Hollow. I know you can resist. That you’ll come back to me.’

He promised he’d come back.

“Erra, I’m-“

Teldryn felt himself being tossed to the floor. Landing on his chest with enough force to wind him again. A pair of thin, withered feet came into view. Red cloth, faded over the aeons. Muscles, lean and dehydrated.  Skin covered in ash. The creature towered over him. Its piercing red eyes bore into his soul. Finding his uncertainty. He’d been here once, dreaming. The same creature reaching for him as this horror did now. 

“My Lord said you’d come to us, Teldryn Sero. And it looks like he was right,” The creature closed the space between them, lifting Teldryn’s chin in its bony fingers. Clouded red eyes darting, almost studying him.  A look of disappointment twisted its features as it let him go.

“I always thought you’d look more like him,” the creature tutted, “or be at least as imposing. All that talk and she sends you.”

“I,” Teldryn choked out, “I what?”

The creature regarded him, a smile twisting his lips, “An incarnate who doesn’t resemble the soul he walks in the shadow of. Oh, how fitting.”

 Teldryn could feel some of the sensation come back to his fingers. He needed to focus his magicka. Stall for time. By the gods his head was swimming. He needed to keep this ash fuck talking for as long as he could.

“What are you on about?” Teldryn whispered, struggling to form the words.

The creature frowned, a taloned finger scratching its chin. The thing’s elaborately coiled beard tangled as he ran his fingers through it.

“Curious, I wonder how much you do remember, Lord Nerevar. Are you really still in the habit of trusting Daedra Lords? Has she not led you down this path before? Why do you persist, Star-Blessed hero?”

[bookwormscififan]

The Glint Off Your Fangs, Chapter 1

Read on AO3!

A/N: So @brokentimewatch encouraged me to write this Markiplier Vampire AU a few months ago, and I'm finally posting it.

Warnings: none yet.

--

He seemed to glide down the hall, fingertips grazing the sapphire strip lining the top of the wainscoting on the wall. He pulled his hand away from the wall, frowning at the dust he had picked up on his fingers. Curling his lip, he rubbed his fingers and thumb together, dispelling the dust before continuing down the hall.

He adjusted his suit jacket with a deep breath before opening the grand double doors before him and stepping into the room.

“The newest member is settling well,” a smug voice informed him from the armchair in front of the fire, waving a hand at the full glass of blood beside the adjacent armchair. The man in the suit sighed, sitting down before lifting his glass.

“Was there really a reason to turn him, though, Actor?” he asked, looking to his side to see the smug face of his brother.

“Is there ever a reason, Dark?” the firelight gleamed off his exposed fangs as he grinned at the suited man, sipping from his glass.

Deep in the catacombs of the castle, hidden from the moonlight as he writhed in his constraints, a man screamed, sweat beading down his head plastering his hair to his forehead. Black leather-clad hands clenched and unclenched, muscles tense beneath his dark turtleneck sweater.

He set his jaw, releasing it with a gasp as his incisors grew longer, pain spreading like wildfire through his mouth. Behind dark sunglasses, bloodshot eyes watered, heat rising from his chest to the two small holes in his neck, skin around them blistered and clammy.

A final burst of pain flared through his body, causing another throat-shredding scream, then the man collapsed onto his side on the ground, eyes closed and breathing heavily.

----

“What were youse looking for in here again? And why did I have to come along?” Yancy frowned as Illinois shushed him, glaring at the adventurer before peering through the gap in the hedges bordering the grand castle in front of them.

“The story is that a man came in here once, about forty years ago, and he never came out. Or something like that, I don’t remember the full story,” Illinois replied, motioning for Yancy to help him climb over the hedge. The prisoner rolled his eyes, helping the adventurer before accepting Illinois’ hand and joining him in the rear courtyard of the castle.

“What’s so special about this man? Why are we going into this castle to… what? Find him?”

“He was a murderer. Killed a lot of people. Maybe we could find out how he disappeared.” Illinois began to walk across the courtyard toward the stone hall lining the wall, waving his hand when he turned and noticed Yancy standing still.

“Are you coming? If we go through this hall, maybe we’ll find our way in,” he asked, tilting his head when Yancy’s face went pale, eyes trained on something behind the adventurer. Slowly, Illinois turned, raising his gaze up into the scarlet eyes of the sharply dressed man standing right behind him.

“Find a way in, you say.” His voice was a low rumble, bordering on menacing as Illinois stepped back slightly to make some distance. “Why did you not just knock at the front door?” The moonlight glinted off the man’s smile, reflecting the sharp incisors in his mouth – the man’s fangs.

“Illinois, he’s a…” Yancy’s voice shook as he stared into the vampire’s eyes, moving forward to stand beside Illinois. The adventurer nodded with a gulp, hand slowly reaching for the bullwhip against his hip before stopping as the vampire’s fingers curled around his wrist.

“None of that here. Come inside, I’m sure we can accommodate you,” He stated, voice still low, and Yancy and Illinois gasped as cold darkness wrapped around them, transporting them inside the castle.

Illinois immediately knelt to the ground, dry heaving above the dark red carpet as Yancy looked around. The prisoner gaped, eyes wide as he took in the surroundings.

The castle was as grand as its exterior suggested, with tall vaulted ceilings painted in rich royal blues. The walls were dark blackwood, striped with a sapphire band of wallpaper just above the burgundy wainscoting that accented the large floor-to-ceiling windows, draped with navy blue wool curtains.

The room that Yancy and Illinois had ended up in appeared to be a drawing room, with a large stone fireplace against one side of the room, two leather armchairs positioned in front of it with a simple coffee table between them. On the other side of the room, a pair of double doors stood closed against prying eyes, bordered with crimson drapes that complemented the wainscoting. Directly in front of the pair, matching double doors suggested an entrance to the hall, crystal sconces on either side of the doorframe, emitting a warm glow against the rich wood of the wall. A day bed was against the wall to the left of the door, and a bar trolley adorned with various bottles and glasses stood against the door on the right.

Yancy looked to his side, raising an eyebrow at Illinois crouched over the wooden floor, continuing to dry heave above the plush carpet they stood on. The prisoner looked up when the doors in front of them opened, revealing the suited man that had transported them.

“Names.” He demanded, voice low as he moved to the bar trolley beside the door. Yancy watched as he poured himself a drink, squinting at the dark red liquid that flowed into the glass. He cleared his throat when the man turned around, nudging Illinois with his foot as he straightened up and wet his lips before speaking.

“Yancy. This is Illinois. He dragged me here, I didn’t even want to come.” The man hummed, leaning against the day bed and observing Yancy as Illinois stood up. The adventurer adjusted his hat, straightening his shirt and staring the man down.

“You’re a vampire.” Yancy rolled his eyes at Illinois’ statement, watching warily as the man strolled toward them, unbuttoning his suit jacket with one hand as he sipped from his glass.

“You’re trespassing on private property,” he returned, leveling his gaze on Illinois. “I don’t take well to intruders. My brother would kill you if he saw you here.” He placed his glass down on the table in front of the fireplace, cracking his neck before turning back to the duo.

“I would suggest you forget you ever came here. If I find you here again, you will not be leaving.” With a wave of his hand, Yancy and Illinois found themselves outside the castle gates once more, less lightheaded than the last time they were transported. Illinois huffed, lifting his hat to run a hand through his hair before looking at Yancy.

“We’re going to find another way in.”

-----

@iamvegorott

[saleeba]

did tumblr finally respond? 😔 they’re tryna restrict ur greatness

i forgot to let youse know!! they emailed back saying it was a coding issue with my posts & the way i do my colourful titles/text wasn't supported by the site... not sure if it's the website i use that's suddenly having problems or tumblr's own programming bc i've been using the same code for literal years,,,, or maybe it's just my blog but anyway hopefully a couple of fics will be up this weekend since i'm finally free from uni ^_^ ilyy for looking forward to my writing and for being so patient !! 💗💗

edit: forgot to say they'll either email me back with a solution or i'll just have to start uploading without all the colourful stuff n that </3

[freebirdyance]

🍓

- @lost-in-gardener

Oh my sweet friendo! I've said it once and I'll say it more: I'M A BIG FAN. Of your writing, your personality. My first ever Tumblr rp experience was my OC Merrick dropping in on Mr. Daniel Rivers and I was a nervous wreck. But you were so kind and welcoming, and now they are literally one of my fave pairs. 💜 You helped give me the confidence to explore more and even to start this amazingly fun blog, so thank you thank you thank you!

And I love Finn! They don't take any shit from any one, and they're one of my fave OCs by far. The dynamic between her and Yancy is hilarious and I look forward to more of their interactions.

***

"Finn? They's real dedicated to their work, I'll give her that. Youse can tell they want to know more and to help. I also enjoy talkin' with her, ya know? Somethin' 'bout her makes you wanna trust her. And...she's a cutie. But don't tell 'er I said that part, they might punch my arm."

[theauthorlives]

behind closed doors (for Michael or Yancy 👀)

Behind Closed Doors

@the-actor-himself

-

It was rare to actually see the Author. The colour drained from Yancy's face when he was ushered into one of the rooms used for interviews. When Michael appeared, it usually meant something bad was on the horizon.

"Relax, Mr. Moore, you aren't in trouble." As if reading the prisoner's mind, Michael gestured to the chair on the opposite side of the table. "I simply need your assistance. I'm doing some research and I need an insight on someone."

"I don't gotta choice, do I."

"No."

"Fine. Who?"

"Mark. Or, to be more specific, the one who is a disgraced actor. You know the one I mean."

"Last I heard he gots waaaay more popular. Why not ask one of his friends?" Yancy slouched into his seat, folding his arms as best as the handcuffs would allow.

Michael shrugged. "Simple. A character isn't based solely on their positives. The most popular characters are ones that readers that relate to because they have flaws, just the same as them. Just be honest. It's not like he's going to hear any of this... Assuming a monarch don't allow the words to slip by."

".... What's that about a monarch?"

"I wasn't talking to you, Yancy. Now. Speak your mind. And be honest. I'll know if you're lying."

Yancy hit his head off the back of his chair and let out a frustrated groan. "Fine, fine. Only if youse leaves me alone after this. I don't get why everyone likes him. They's is always saying things 'bout he's so cool or sweet or thoughtful or whatever... But all I sees is some sorta - ugh, what's the word? Y'know... someone who thinks they is all high and mighty but they just looks like a fool..."

"A fop?"

"Don't think that's the word I was thinking of, but I'll take it. I sees a different side to him, like I's is just something he can keep making fun of. He sees me as some sorta... I dunno, a toy? A game? Something you can peer in at like I'm an exhibition or in the zoo."

"You're in prison. It's basically a zoo for worthless scum like you, but carry on." Michael's eyes were on the notes he was writing. It was easy to ignore the offense on the prisoner's face.

"See! Youse is doing the same! You writer-and-or-theatre folk is all the same -"

"But I'm not two-faced."

"Yeah yeah! Youse just hate everyone. But Mark?" Yancy pulled himself up and put a hand on his chest. When he spoke again, it was in a posh, mocking accent to 'impersonate' Mark. "Ohhh, look at me, I'm the actor that everyone loves! Everyone wants to fall over me and worship me and ignore the fact that I'm a fucking asshole if you aren't giving me the praise and validation I deserve! Pah. They ain't gonna believe a word of this, by the way. They all conveniently forget he's also a fucking piece of trash who just finished parole. Or maybe he's one of them people decent folk wanna protect like he's some fragile plant or whatever." The chains rattled as he slumped forward. "But don't you knows him too? Why not do youses' own opinion instead?"

"Mine is hardly as detailed as that. But to humour you, it is this: He's a people pleaser. That's why he's popular. In trying to prove people love him, and that he isn't the pathetic mess that destroyed several lives, he's lost sight of his sense of self. Maybe he'll get it back thanks to his son, or maybe he's content to be the actor with a hundred masks of meekness and piety that people can take pity on."

"So he's a faker?"

".... Yes, Yancy. He's a faker."

[gottawriteanegoortwo]

@xxx-kurasu-xxx - I am so sorry for accidentally posting your prompt with nothing written! This is exactly why you don't write at 11pm when you were supposed to sleep half an hour ago!

Word Count: 599

-

If there's one thing you learned about Yancy, it's that he was set in his ways. He wasn't leaving jail, and you couldn't figure out if it was fear of the unknown, or some sort of sense of obligation. He knew how to get out, but he never did! While it cause you frustration, it did serve a good purpose. It was why you two were able to sit on a bench in the yard without prying eyes. For a moment, you could at least pretend you were alone.

"It's true. Youse is looking so much better after escapin'." You tried to point out that it would do him the world of good to get out, but he shot it down rather fast. "I'm okay here. I ain't wantin' ta leave. Besides, I still get ta see youse. An' we can be pen-pals, right?" As cheesy as it was, it was better than nothing. It wasn't like Yancy had a phone in his cell. His mind seemed to wander in a different path. Slowly, his dark eyes lifted skyward.

"Hey… can youse still get those ice cream cones over by the fire station? I used ta love gettin' those as a kid. You have some sorta thing like that youse loved as a kid?"

Such a small, mundane topic, but it worked wonders. You braved moving closer to rest your head on his shoulder. A simple gesture should not have startled him, but it did. At least he settled into it before you could move.

"Heh, sorry… I ain't used ta people touchin' me like that no more. Thought youse was gonna give me another sucker punch." You pulled back with confusion, and you caught the brief hurt that flashed across his face as he realised what happened. Without waiting for the conclusion to sink in, you open your arms.

"Wh-what?" He looked as confused as a child trying to understand algebra. "Youse w-want to… with me?" You noticed the way he withdrew slightly. It was likely habit more than fear. You nod and emphasise your gesture.

It worked.

Slowly, he shimmied himself across the bench until you could wrap your arms around him. For an instant, he tensed up, only to quickly relax and try to move closer. You took the chance to kiss his hair, which was enough for him to lean back enough to look you in the eye.

"Youse keep doin' things like that. Is you serious? Be with someone like me?" Instead of an answer, you slip one hand back around so you can brush some loose strands in his hair back into place. Then, just as his guard was lowered, you kiss his forehead. As before, he gave a shocked look, only for a soft, genuine smile to appear.

"Guess this is a good time ta say I kinda like youse. I like like youse." He pulled back enough for him to put a hand on your cheek. He looked unsure; and nearly chickened out. "So uh, is it okay if I kiss ya? Ain't nothin' fancy or nothin', but I can't help but wanna lose myself starin' at youser's handsome-and-or-beautiful eyes." Once you have consent, he moved forward to close the gap between you.

He was nervous. Fear of messing up was strong, so it was a kiss that was played safe. It didn't make it any less significant. You took the moment when you broke for air to pull him over to cuddle: his head resting on your shoulder, your arms wrapped around him.

"Heh… I could get used ta this."