Dramatological
Fandoms
- Dragon Age II (3)
- Dragon Age: Inquisition (3)
- Teen Wolf (TV) (3)
- Original Work (2)
- Mass Effect Trilogy (1)
Recent works
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Summary
"Do not offer the abomination your blood! Do not accept blood from the abomination! Do not hold prolonged eye contact with the abomination! Do not engage the abomination in philosophical debate! If the abomination passes you in a hallway, what do you do, Connor?"
"Wet myself, sir."
"You wet yourself," the general nodded, "And then you clean that shit up and get back to your job, because this is Kali Incorporated and we do not fuck around."
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This is not a fanfic about Hellsing, it is a love letter to Hellsing. If you know Hellsing, it will feel familiar, if you do not, you are not missing anything. Everything here is original work.
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Summary
All of these offerings, these tidings, these years they had given her. It had never been the finest clothes, the most brilliant bards, the most extensive travel. All these years, they had been giving her memories to keep close to her heart in the darkness that was to come.
The world made a deal with Death. Now someone had to pay for it.
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"Altruis," she said. She hadn't known that was to be her answer, but as soon as she said it, she realized that was the only one she could give. There couldn't be any other answer. He was the only Illidari who knew she was a fraud. He had to be the one, the hunter that could lead them once her failure was accepted by the others.
A fictionalized retelling of the Illidari champion, and her champion -- the traitor to the Illidari.
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Summary
Peter's eyes trailed down her dress to the sequins flashing fire with each step forward, then slid back up, catching on her bare neck, the pulse throbbing under pale skin, quickening, now, the low thrum of her heart spiking upward in fear, exhilaration, adrenaline lining her scent with a not unpleasant acidity as she slid to stop in front of him, leaning forward just slightly, hands clasped behind her back, the picture of courtly behavior -- for a gentleman. Ladies were not supposed to be so forward.
"May I have this dance?"
As if this were the first time.
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A Dance with the Devil.
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Summary
In four billion years or so, the Milky Way would collide and merge with Andromeda. Many, many billions of years after that, the universe would die the slow, quiet death of maximum entropy and, perhaps then, the intelligence would go with it.
Many years after Shepard chose to control the reapers, she is still living with the ghosts she left behind.
Recent series
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Summary
This follows Hawke through DAII and Inquisition
- Words:
- 94,475
- Works:
- 3
- Bookmarks:
- 40
Recent bookmarks
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Summary
Even though I haven't seen you in years, yours is a funeral I'd fly to from anywhere.
Kate doesn't get away clean. Yeah, she knows.Bookmarked by Dramatological
09 Aug 2016
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Summary
Post-game. Freedom means the burden of making choices, and the consequences that come with them.
Bookmarked by Dramatological
12 Jul 2016
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Her Lord Marshal's Right Hand by E_J_Frost
Fandoms: Pitch Black (2000), Chronicles of Riddick (2004), The Chronicles of Riddick Series, The Chronicles of Riddick (2004)
03 Feb 2014
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Summary
The Lord Marshal lies dead, but his First Concubine lives. Will she follow her Lord Marshal and claim her Due Time, or can Riddick persuade her to choose Another Way?
Legal disclaimer: The characters who appear in "Pitch Black" and “The Chronicles of Riddick” belong to Universal Studios and their other various copyright owners. I make no claim on them and do not intend to profit from the use of them in this work of fiction. All other characters and settings are mine; kindly seek my permission if you plan to use them.
Series
- Part 1 of Lords of Furya
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Summary
Everyone knows that there are no free mages under the Qun.
The Ben-Hassrath know that there's nothing more useful than a fact that 'everyone knows'.
Bookmarked by Dramatological
16 Jun 2015
Bookmarker's Notes
And you people think I peddle devil cookies...
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Summary
Sarah stands quietly at his side, skin cold as his, her breath as slow as his, and yet he senses the tension that thrums through her. She's strung herself tight. She is, Jareth realizes with a sort of dim horror, listening. And she's listening closely.
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