#but as neen said

[1moreoffkeyanthem]

My favorite Stan Moments in this btw:

Kyle’s hard days were always his own hard days, seeing him suffer like that. The uncertainty, the anger, everything he’d felt and seen since selling part of his soul to the Haven was only a drop in the ocean to what Kyle had faced all those years.

All those years, even before moving onto the ranch, of not being looked after emotionally, being seen as a possession rather than an equal, of being toyed with physically. Roughly. Abused repeatedly and gas lit into believing he wasn’t. Wanting so badly to be loved in the way HE loved others, only to have it be thrown back into his face, to be thrown around, beaten within an inch of his life there at the end…

See, that’s what drove Stan’s bouts of anxiety about the whole thing. His nightmares were always about losing Kyle. He was okay once he realized Kyle was there.

Goddamnit. He didn’t want to cry in public, but he hated that he couldn’t fix this. Only time could, and Stan couldn’t control time.

“I wish I could take it from him, Ken. I really do. Like, on his bad days he makes himself worse because he feels so helpless. It’s so fucking scary, seeing him like that.” He stubbornly blinked back the burn in his sinuses. “He’s not weak, dude, he knows he’s not, he’s just sick, and traumatized, and he’d totally kick my ass if he heard me say this, but I just want to wrap him in that shit they stuff quilts with and protect him from everything that could ever hurt him, but I CAN’T because even if the Spider’s gone, he hurt him so BAD, Kenny, and I can’t protect him from his memories or the dreams-“

“I’m sorry I’m… broken,” he whispered.

“Hey, no.” Stan brushed his thumb over Kyle’s cheekbone and kissed his forehead. “You’re not broken. You’re HEALING.”

Kenny’s heart broke for both of them. They’d been through Hell, no one could deny that. But they had each other, at the end of the day, and nothing would ever change that.

Yeah I just love this Stan ok

So guess whomst wrote a lil sum that only a handful of people will be down with?

That’s right, a sequel to my weirdass rural horror magical realism bs The Webs In The Rafters, here’s No Strings Attached

Welcome to Post Traumatic Spider Disorder

[vamprisms]

we r going to the baldur's gate gay pride parade

[jell-hell]

I have...... A sore throat. Woe is me

[baby-pink-panic]

You have no idea how badly I wanted to be your daughter

[guitarriffsolo]

-Cunnilingus-

Verosika Mayday x Reader one shot

You worked in Verosika’s studio. You were her main stylist and put together 99% of the iconic outfits she wore on stage and for public appearances.

Reader is technically GN but said to be wearing makeup

——————————————————

I was making plans for the next outfit as Verosika was currently touring the 7 rings of hell when she kicked the door open and screamed.

“I hate work! I hate people! And I’m so fucking sick of this tour!”

I hardly knew how to respond to her outburst so I opted to just watching her melt down.

“Do you have a goddamn problem Y/N?!?!”

I stand up out of my desk, I could nearly swear this would be the third meltdown this week.

“Would you like a drink Verosika?”

She sighed and tried to calm down

“Get me a strawberry daiquiri and make it fast.”

I walk over to the mini bar and make a quick drink. I suppose one of the reasons Verosika enjoyed me so much was my past bartending experience before moving into the fashion industry. I hand her the requested drink, she takes a sip and nearly moans at the taste.

“You are fucking awesome Y/N.”

I sit down with my own drink and take a sip.

“So what happened now to get your panties in such a twist?”

“Come take me panties off if you’re so concerned about them..”

I raise an eyebrow but Verosika’s expression doesn’t falter.

“Did I stutter?”

She’s so nonchalant with her offer as she takes another sip of her fruity drink. I had of course heard she would hook up with employees before but me and her had never gone at it. I wasn’t opposed to the idea, nobody could deny that Verosika Mayday was smoking hot.

I set down my drink and choose to respond.

“Get a little closer and tell me what ya want pretty girl.”

Her expression is nearly giddy for a moment before walking over and wrapping a strand of my hair around her finger and giving a twirl.

“You know how to eat pussy baby? I could really use an orgasm for my nerves,”

“Can I kiss you?”

Verosika nods and I lean in for a kiss. I swipe my tongue across her lips and she instantly gets the message and opens up her mouth. My tongue darts in and I can taste the rum in her saliva.

I slither down to the floor to get on knees.

“C’mon baby I’ve neen dying to hook up with ya one of these days, I can just tell you would amazing head.”

Praises effortlessly rolled off the pop stars tongue as I hitched up her hot pink skirt relieving black panties with two pink X’s on either hip.

“You’re already soaking, I havent even done anything,”

My smirk grows and Verosika rests further into the couch.

“Maybe I’m fuckin stressed horny, I don’t know baby but I need ya so bad,”

I oblige the pleading tone and pull her panties down to her ankles revealing a glistening and soaked cunt.

I hitch one leg over my shoulder and push the other one out to give me all the access I needed to bring Verosika onto a mind blowing orgasm.

I start to gently kiss up her thigh as my red lipstick leaves a trail of kiss marks. I hum against her warm skin.

A drop of her slick falls onto my cheek and I lick it up. I swallow the drop then open my mouth to show off. Verosika is nearly moaning just at the sight of my actions.

“Satan why haven’t we done this sooner?”

“Ya never asked.”

I say with my shit eating grin as I lick a stripe between her folds. Verosika brings both hands up to her mouth and gasps out a hitched moan.

Verosikas hands reach into my locks and I can feel her fresh acrylics leaving the perfect scratch on my scalp. My mouth is around her clit and my moan sends vibrations through her cunt.

I drink her juices and eat her out like she’s my last meal in hell. I feel as if I would’nt care if I dropped dead at this point knowing this was the last thing I did.

My tongue enters her as I fuck her in and out. It really was amazing that certain imps including myself had forked tongues, really added spice to these situations.

Verosika bucks her hips up as she chases her chance to pour cum all over my face. My lipstick was smeared and I’m sure my base was messy. It was all worth it to hear the pop star moan out my name and squirm beneath my touch.

I lick back up to swirl my tongue around her clit then I bring two fingers to enter her sopping wet hole. When I curl my fingers it seems to hit the perfect bundle of nerves.

“Satan! Yes! Y/N don’t stop I swear on my fucking life I will kill you if you stop. Holy shit hit right there and keep that hot mouth around my clit!”

Verosika moaned and babbled whatever came to mind as my fingers thrusted in rhythm with the way I would sink in my cheeks around her now swollen bud.

“Mm not stopping V..”

I reassure her and speed up the way I finger bang her. I can tell she’s close when the way she moves her hips gets sloppy and her moans transition into screams.

My teeth ever so gently bite around her clit. Not at all painful, a simple graze but it seems that little touch did it.

Verosika cries out and only then do I notice the mascara dripping down her cheeks. Milky cum squirts over my face and I drink whatever I can catch in my mouth.

“Oh you’re so perfect Y/N..”

Verosika seems pretty out of it and I get up off my knees to grab a damp towel. I first wipe what cum was left over on my face before moving onto to cleaning Verosika. I wipe gently as I knew she was still sensitive.

Verosika already seemed ready to pass out and luckily there was a nearby blanket. I place it over her and fix her messy hair a bit.

“We gotta do that again baby,” She mumbles but she can barely keep her eyes open.

I giggle a bit before responding.

“Get some sleep princess, we’ll talk when you’re rested,”

—————————————————

Woo first one shot of this blog!

I hope this was good considering I’m not used to writing hook ups and much prefer established relationships😭

Hope you enjoyed masturbating to this slut mwah 💋

(I know yall get off to tumblr blogs don’t even lie to me)

[leclerced]

lando or oscar (or both !) with a gf who acts so dirty and they’re convinced she’s fucked so many people so she must be so good at sex but she’s actually a virgin ??? the shock that this girl who’s insatiable and sucks on oscar’s neck when he cooks and sits on lando’s lap and distracts him when he games or sum but they get to actual sex and she’s just like 🧍‍♀️ 🤷‍♀️

pls they think she’s trying to tease them but her love language is physical touch, she just wants to touch her boys all the time. doesn’t realize the effect it has on them until one day they’re making out. she’s on lando’s lap, had just neen pulled away from oscar’s lap and manhandled onto lando’s. he’s kissing her neck and rolling her hips on his, when he tells her what a tease she is. she asks what he means and she sounds so innocent that he pulls back and looks at her in exasperation, “are you being serious?” and she nods slowly and oscar and lando share a look and then start telling her how everytime she comes over and starts kissing on them or sits in one of their laps, they think they’re about to fuck her, and they’re quick to be like, “we love the anticipation but you’re driving us crazy. are you not doing it on purpose? thought you were.” she’s shell shocked by the revelation, she just likes their necks and likes kissing them, she likes being close to them so she sits in their laps as often as possible. she didn’t realize they were getting all worked up by her and she tells them, “oh sorry for teasing you, i’ve never done this before so i just… do what feels right?” it’s their turn to be shocked again and ask what she means, that she’s never done this before. she said it so casually they’re thinking she means being with two guys at once until she clarifies that she’s never been with one guy, much less two at once.

[baxteravenue]

Can You Shoot & Score?

PART ONE.

Summary: You don't listen to Jack Harlow but because your friend is seeing his best friend you find yourself at his concert and at the center of his attention.

A/N: This is a three parter, so stay tuned!

“You’re coming,” Your roommate practically begs, “Y/N please for me! I literally never ask you to go anywhere and I’m literally on my knees.”

“I don’t even listen to him, besides that one song.” You shake your head, “And I don’t know if I can be the best wing woman.”

Jack Harlow is in town and for the past few months on and off your roommate has been messaging with his best friend or photographer… you’re not really sure but you do remember his name because of how random it was. Urban.

“I will literally play Animal Crossing with you for an entire month, please! Just the show and the club after and you will get me to fully dive into the game you’ve been wanting me to play for the longest.”

“Way to make me sound boring.” You stick out your tongue.

“So?”

It’s silent for a bit before you eventually melt, “Fine. But I’m wearing what I want to wear.” 

Nina, your roomie practically jumps up and down in a fit of glee. “Yay and fine! You could literally wear a trash bag and still look hot.”

So that’s how you ended up being escorted from the box office all the way to the backstage area, backstage passes plastered on both you and Nina. 

It’s awkward at first when you walk into a room crowded with girls wearing full on club outfits, you slowly begin to feel self conscious with your choice of clothing. Your trusty pair of Levi’s and a random black mesh tank. You slowly lean into Nina, “Did not know we were going to a Fashion Nova runway show.”

Nina giggles, “You look beautiful.”

You recognize Urban first, Nina had shown you his instagram first. He completely disregards all the girls lingering and walks up to Nina with a huge smile on his face and a cherry wrapped joint behind his ear. 

He hugs her tightly and you smile, you can’t hear what he says but she smiles and he gives her the blunt. 

“This is Y/N, Y/N this is Urban.” Urban smiles, and for a second you see his eyes dart behind you wiggling his eyebrows a bit before snapping back.

“S’nice to meet you, did you need anything? We got some drinks over there and some chicken sandwiches and oh shit do you smoke? I got Neens her favorite but I completely forgot to ask if you had any preferences.”

You melt at Urban’s nickname for Nina and shake your head, “Thank you but no. I don’t smoke, I get paranoid and I’m not a big fan of alcohol.”

“Respect.” Urban nods, “What about a chicken sandwich?”

“Sure.” You shrug. 

Urban leads you over to a whole buffet, constantly looking over your shoulder. “Help yourself to anything,” Glance, “Literally anything.” Glance, “Give me a second I’ll be right back.” 

Urban leaves and you look down, giggling at the Jack Harlowified wraps of the KFC chicken sandwiches. 

“It’s funny huh?” An unfamiliar voice says from beside you. 

You look up and then back at the wrapper and then back up, “They kinda did you dirty, you look like the unabomber.” You immediately cover your mouth with your hand, “I didn’t”

“Holy shit.” He laughs, “Okay, wow.”

“I didn’t mean to actually say that out loud.” You can feel your cheeks getting red.

“It’s fine,” He smiles looking back down at the rapper before laughing, “Shit you’re kinda right.” 

You shake your head, “M’sorry I’m just gonna eat my chicken sandwich in the corner and stay quiet.”

“Wait no!” Jack says a little too eagerly for his liking, “Nah it’s cool… What's your name again?”

“I never said it, It’s Y/N.” 

“Y/N…” Jack tests the name on his lips, “I like that name. It’s a nice name.”

“Thanks, I like the name Jack too. It reminds me of how obsessed I was with Jack Skellington from The Nightmare Before Christmas, so much that I had my parents buy me this onesie costume and I wore it almost every day for the entire month of April which is like an insanely random month to develop a hyperfixation on that and sometimes I ask myself like why not October or like even December? But then again I did watch Stand By Me over and over again from November to…” You immediately stop realizing how many words are coming out of your mouth, “Sorry.”

Jack has the cheesiest smile, loving every single word that’s coming out of your mouth. “No please continue, I was just going to say how I watched Save The Last Dance secretly every night for two months straight, I swore I was gonna pop out at my seventh grade winter formal like no other.”

You throw your head back in a fit of laughter, “I kid you not I used to stand in front of the T.V. and try and mimic every single one of Moose’s dance scenes from Step Up.”

“And how did that go? Can you move like him?” 

You snort laughing, “Oh hell no. I have no rhythm. I was doomed from the start and I think if I remember correctly I dislocated a bone.”

Jack can’t stop laughing with you and neither can you. Everyone sees how deep the two of you are in conversation, laughs coming out every few seconds. Urban, all of Jack’s friends, and Nina are smiling watching from a distance. Meanwhile every other girl who had hope of a shot frowns with disappointment and jealousy.

You’re telling Jack about how you used to play basketball in high school when his eyes light up. 

“Wait for reals, you used to play? You can shoot?” Jack has an up to no good look on his face.

“It’s been a while but I think so, I’m not the tallest but I have a good arm.” You shrug.

Jack nods, “Alright… alright. You’re gonna be watching from the side stage or were you gonna be in the crowd?”

You look over at Nina who’s staring at you already along with everyone else. You give her a confused look before turning back to Jack, “Uhm it’s honestly up to Nina, I came with her so…”

He nods as someone tells him he’s on in five.

“I hope you enjoy the show.” Jack gives you a wink, “And I really hope you can shoot.”

You don’t know what he means but before you can even ask you both are being dragged in different directions. Jack to his spot on stage and you to side stage to watch with Nina and Urban.

You’ve never really listened to his music but you find yourself enjoying the music. You laugh as he interacts with the crowd.

“We even got a basket up here and… a ball! Who thinks they can make it?”

The arena immediately roars in cheers, Jack laughs looking at all the raised hands. “Alright. Alright. There's no way y'all can all make it. Hmmm, you!” He points at a girl right at the front, “You think you can? Alright c’mon.  And you my boy in the middle you got it? Alright let's go. And mmm alright you look like you got the spirit you come up too!”

It’s sad to see all of the fans miss, but regardless they look happy that they were even up there getting to be near Jack.

You giggle as he nicely kicks the fans off joking about their lack of baskets before looking around, “You know I think I have another person who said they can shoot… Y/N, you wanna give it a try?”

Your eyes widen as the light moves to you, Jack pulling at your arm. “C’mon I need one person to make it. Everyone Y/N said she’s got it like that!”

The crowd cheers.

You shake your head, “What? No!”

“C’mon Y/N don’t make us go out sad!” Jack pouts at you, before turning back to the crowd, “Unless she doesn’t got it like that then I get it. She doesn't want to embarrass herself.”

“Embarrass myself?” Suddenly you don’t care that you’re stepping on a huge stage in front of almost 16,000 people. You grab the ball from Jack’s arms, “No one’s gonna embarrass themselves.” 

“Oooh she got the ball! Let’s see if she makes it?” Jack taunts you to the crowd. 

Oh you were gonna make it, best believe that. Suddenly you were back in your high school prime ready to make a free throw and within second it swishes into the basket graceful as fuck and you cant help but let out a small scream jumping up and down. You were never great with pressure, but it was nice to know you still had it.

You feel your feet lift off the floor as Jack picks you up, throwing you over his shoulder screaming. “Let’s goooooo!”

You cannot stop laughing as he runs all over the stage, before gently placing you down at the side of the stage. “Man everyone give it up for Y/N! She redeemed yall!” Jack tucks the mic behind him, “You’re too fucking good, I think I’m obsessed with you.”

He doesn’t even give you time to respond before he’s running back to the center of the stage getting into the next song.

Your mouth is open slightly in shock and a bit of confusion. 

“Oh, he likes you bad girl.” Nina smirks.

[darkelfguy]

hi! i was wondering what mods you're using in your screenshots? they look so gorgeous that you've made me want to play morrowind again haha

Thanks, I'm glad they're giving you the Morrowind itch! I do actually have a list of graphical mods I use, covering everything from shaders to texture replacers, UI improvements, animations, and sounds. It's not a proper modding guide per say (and there are links included to actual instructional modding guides in the list), but it covers most of the visual elements I use in my screenshots. That said, that list doesn't include any location or landscape mods, so real quick, here's a few of the common ones I use in my screenshots: Landscape Mods: Spines of Madness Azura Coast Redone Rocky West Gash - BCOM Rocky West Gash - Aggressively Compatible Rocky West Gash - Devilish Rocky West Gash (I use this one) Markgran Forest - (Alternative: Another Markgran Forest) Bal'laku - The Lonely Towers Strider Burial OAAB Grazelands OAAB - The Ashen Divide OAAB - Foyada Mamaea The Mountain of Fear Graht Morrowind Swamp Trees

Major Location and Landmark Mods: Tall Dungeons The Beacons of Mamaea The Great Hive of Baan Binif Memento Mori Telvanni Sea Beacon OAAB Tel Raloran The Beacon of St. Rilms Salothran Beacon Fort Ghostmoth The Telvanni Ward Keepers The Slavers Spire The Great Seawall of Vivec Gates of Ascadia Ald Gash - A Redoran Lighthouse RR Mod Series - Telvanni Lighthouse Tel Vos Hla Odai Caldera Priory Thickle-Lo Grove Draggle-Tail Shack Arnchenzel - Dwemer Underwater House Location Overhauls: OAAB Shipwrecks OAAB Tel Mora Tethered Tel Branora Caldera Governors Manor Redone Balmora Temple Redone Finding the Erabenimsun Ashlander Camp OAAB Market Baar Dau - Ministry of Truth The Ashlanders OAAB Seyda Neen - Damp Little Squat URH - Khuul and URH - Ald Velothi Cozy Caldera Cozy Ald'ruhn Hla Oad Grim Khuul and Enchanted Ald Velothi Mystical and Religious Maar Gan (alternatively Maar Gan - Town of Pilgrimage) Galen's Quest for Truth The Northern Strongholds RR Mod Series - Ghostgate Fortress Corprusarium - Sorrow Heart of Tel Fyr Marandus Rebuilt Town Additions: Dagon Fel Mill Redux Dagon Fel Lighthouse Vivec Lighthouse The Ebonheart Lighthouse Telvanni Lighthouse in Sadrith Mora The cool Khuul Lighthouse Shipyards of Vvardenfell Balmora Docks District Sload and Slavers

I'm almost certainly missing a few, and that list doesn't include quest or dungeon mods for the most part, but that's most of the major ones I've featured. I'll have to make a proper new list covering content mods at some point.

[vosh-rakh]

two rings in seyda neen

The eastern sun drew out aching morning shadows from the world’s weary bones as Ku-vastei stepped out again into the bright briny air of Seyda Neen – her first steps as a free woman in Morrowind since the Arnesian War.

It was a quaint seaside town. The main street was lined with Imperial-style houses wrought from stone and plaster, with one stuccoed two-story building near the bridge standing out on the edge of a hill. Down that hill were a spattering of thatched huts – barely a step up from the slave-shacks she had grown up in – in the low swamp of the coast. In the distance towered the lighthouse which had no doubt guided her ship to port as she slept and dreamed fitfully. The great beast she’d seen, like an armored netch with spindly shelled legs in the stream which cut the town from the rest of the island of Vvardenfell, was hidden behind the houses to her right. 

There must be little to do in Seyda Neen, she observed, because several of its citizens stood idly in the street, chatting with one another and with the Imperial guards keeping the peace. Few Dunmer, she noted also, with no small relief. The nearest to her was a Bosmer, in fact – a race the slavers were known to sometimes keep, despite being elves also.

He seemed to notice her noticing him, in fact. He approached with a smile. Ku-vastei frowned at having already drawn a local’s attention.

“Greetings, stranger!” exclaimed the Bosmer, his shrill voice a little louder than Ku-vastei’s dream-rattled head would have liked. “You come in on the ship? Welcome to Seyda Neen, then!” He extended an ecstatic hand, and Ku-vastei nearly recoiled completely from it. “My name’s Fargoth. What’s yours?”

Ku-vastei did not take his hand. “Ku-vastei,” she said, replying automatically, as the paperwork-filing of the Census Office had accustomed her.

“Ah,” said Fargoth awkwardly, dropping his hand to his side. “I suppose that’s a good name where you come from!” He glanced over Ku-vastei’s body, her ragged prison garb and heavily scarred scales. “Say, they didn’t rough you up too much in there, did they?”

Compared to when she’d been captured after the war, a few shoves off the ship had been nothing. She glanced at the docks behind her, but the vessel had already sailed off, barely a speck on the horizon now. “No,” she said, still looking south.

“Good, good,” Fargoth said with a sigh of relief. “Those Census and Excise blokes can be real bastards. Why, last week, in their weekly ‘Let’s shake down Fargoth’ ritual, I’m pretty sure they stole my ring!”

“Ring?” asked Ku-vastei, remembering. In the small courtyard between the Census office and the office of Sellus Gravius, there had been a ring sitting on a barrel by the door. A strange silver band, engraved with Daedric letters she couldn’t read, but she could sense power in it. She rubbed the sigils, trying to activate their enchantment, and after a moment the soreness in her bones – from sleeping on barrels and crates in the cargo hold of a ship over a long journey – lightened up a bit. She had glanced around to make sure no one was watching, then pocketed the ring.

“Yes!” said Fargoth. “It’s an engraved silver ring, enchanted with a healing spell. Precious family heirloom. One of my ancestors had it enchanted for his ailing mother. You haven’t seen it by chance, have you?”

Ku-vastei fished in the pocket of her tunic and produced the ring she’d snagged. “Is this it?”

Fargoth snatched the ring from Ku-vastei’s claw and held it up to his eyes to inspect it. Then he whooped, clutching the ring close to his chest, and spun around, dancing like a fool in the street. No one seemed to pay him any mind, though – maybe this was normal for him. “Thank you, thank you! You are now my favorite friend!” He squeezed a sausage of a finger into the ring. “Come with me, Ku-vastei! My friend Arrille at the tradehouse will be pleased to hear you helped me! I can have him give you a discount, help you get on your feet here in Morrowind!” Fargoth turned to start leading Ku-vastei to the two-story stucco building she’d noticed earlier.

Ku-vastei rolled her eyes as soon as his face was turned away. Bosmer were so pointlessly excitable, and this one was one of the worst she’d met. But she couldn’t turn down his offer; Gravius hadn’t given her much gold, just eighty-seven septims to get by with. She followed after Fargoth.

On their way to the tradehouse, they passed by two civilians. An Imperial with a grim face scrunched up in deep thought, his hand over his mouth, glanced up at Fargoth and Ku-vastei as they passed, but then resumed his strained concentration. The other, a fair-haired Altmer with a proud, rigid posture, received a “Hail, Eldafire!” from Fargoth. Eldafire said nothing, but glared at them – and Ku-vastei felt that baleful gaze stronger on her scales. 

Fargoth led them up a handful of wooden steps past Eldafire, wrapping around a raised wooden platform to what seemed like the “back” of the tradehouse to Ku-vastei. Fargoth opened the door and held it open for her, but she couldn’t help but stare at the swamps past the creek north of town. Low branches of trees hung shade over shallow pools, darkening the marsh in a beautifully nostalgic way. She caught a glimpse of a dully glowing mottled-green mushroom cap huddled against the roots of a thick-trunked tree, and wondered what species it was. A mudcrab squatted by the creek, snapping at fish swimming up from the sea.

“Hideous things, aren’t they?” said Fargoth, tapping his foot on the wooden boards. “Come on in. Arrille pays a lot for the mage upstairs to keep the tradehouse cool, and we’re letting all that air out.”

Ku-vastei shook the reverie from her head and entered the tradehouse, Fargoth following and shutting the door tight behind him. “Arrille!” he said, clapping his hands together. “Please be extra generous with my new friend here, Ku-vastei!” He wrenched the heirloom ring from his finger and held it up to Arrille, an olive-skinned Altmer with crossed arms, to see. “She found my family ring for me!”

Arrille chortled. “Does that mean you’ll stop complaining?”

“No guarantees,” said Fargoth swiftly, matter-of-factly.

“Well,” Arrille said, ignoring Fargoth with a roll of his eyes. He looked towards Ku-vastei. “A friend of Fargoth’s is a friend of mine. I’ll make sure she’s taken care of. But you may not want to stay long, Fargoth.” He pointed a long finger up to the ceiling. “Hrisskar’s upstairs.”

Fargoth’s eyes widened and he bolted out the door, not bothering to close it all the way. A Dunmer woman to the left that Ku-vastei hadn’t noticed before approached and snapped the door shut with a sigh. Her presence set Ku-vastei immediately on edge, her natural rhythm of tail-swishing tightening.

Arrille rubbed his high, bony forehead. “Now that he’s gone,” he said, “how can I help you, Argonian?”

Ku-vastei’s tail resumed swishing slightly, but its quizzical tone was lost on a non-Saxhleel. “I thought you two were friends.”

Arrille sighed, leaning back against the wall behind his counter. “He’s sort of the village idiot,” he remarked with an abstract wave of his hand. “I’m basically the only one who tolerates him. So, about as close to a ‘friend’ as he gets.”

“Soulsick?” asked Ku-vastei.

“Maybe,” Arrille shrugged. “I can never tell. He’s just…different.”

Ku-vastei nodded. She, too, was different in many ways, so she felt some pity for the Bosmer.

“Anyways,” Arrille said, leaning forward and planting his palms on the counter. “How may I help you?”

Ku-vastei stood there idly for a moment, thinking. “I need a weapon. A spear. And some armor. Chainmail, if you have it.” She thought a moment more, then added, “A pack of some kind, as well.”

“And what is your budget, Ku-vastei?”

Ku-vastei sighed. She reached into her pocket and pulled from it the small sack of coin from Gravius. She set it down on the counter.

Arrille spilled the bag and counted. “Eighty-seven drakes,” he said. He ducked under the counter to consider his inventory. He retrieved an iron-tipped spear and a cuirass of Imperial ringmail and set them on the counter. “Weapon and armor. I’ll skew the prices a bit, since you helped Fargoth.” He went down again and grabbed a small knapsack and a bottle Ku-vastei didn’t recognize and offered them as well. “I’ll throw in the bag and some sujamma for free for all your coin.”

Ku-vastei was in no position to haggle, so she accepted the deal. “Thank you.”

“Yeah, yeah,” said Arrille. “Adventure some with that weapon and armor, and bring me back some real money next time. I won’t go so easy on you.”

Ku-vastei slipped on the cuirass – it was a bit loose, but it would have to do for now – and gave the spear a few jabs into the air. Out of practice, but she’d get the hang of it again. Drills would help, but nothing trains like real combat. “Any work for an adventurer around here?” she asked. 

“Not much goes on in Seyda Neen,” interjected the Dunmer on the other side of the room. “But the Tax Collector, Processus Vitellius, has gone missing. There might be a reward for you if you can figure out where he went.”

“Probably ran off with everyone’s taxes!” groaned Arrille.

“Or got lost after too much shein, again,” offered the Dunmer.

“Any idea where he might have gone?” Ku-vastei asked Arrille, ignoring the Dunmer.

“Well, nowhere’s really safe for a tax-thief,” the Altmer replied. “Nowhere civilized, at least. There’s a village up north, Hla Oad, well known for its smugglers. Maybe he fled there.”

“Hm.” Ku-vastei wiped some dust from the tip of her new spear. “I’ll head north then, and see what I can find.”

“Take the road, if you can,” said the Dunmer. “The Bitter Coast is dangerous. There’s beasts, sure. But also smugglers, and even cultists, if you heed the rumors. Be safe, sera.”

Ku-vastei doubted the woman actually cared at all for her well-being, but she nodded vaguely in her direction anyway. She waved awkwardly at Arrille, who did not return the gesture, and then turned to walk out the door.

The humid heat of the coast hit her immediately as she stepped outside. She glanced up at the sky to ascertain her bearings from the early morning position of Magnus, then faced north, across the creek into the marsh beyond. The mudcrab had stopped fishing, and huddled inside its shell along the bank. 

Ku-vastei didn’t bother to take the stairs to the main street. She hopped down from the platform into the soft earth below and used her spear to vault across the creek a small distance from the mudcrab. It shifted slightly, but didn’t seem to take much notice of her. She quietly approached and gave it a mighty guar-kick – at least, as mighty as she could manage – and knocked it on its side. It shrieked, its legs and arms clawing at the air. She skewered it between its under-plates, her spear nearly cracking through the shell on the other side. It writhed in the air for a moment more before falling still.

Awkwardly with the sharp end of her spear, she pried the bottom of the mudcrab from its shell, revealing its juicy yellow meat. Carefully she carved out a few portions, wrapped them in wide leaves from a shrub nearby, and stowed them in her bag to cook later. Then she carried on northwards, loosely following the coast on her left.

Slowly, like a creaky cart-wheel struggling to roll apace, she felt her war-skills return. Here and there were patches of trampled grass, footfalls loosely printed in the soft bog-mud. She could smell, amidst the motley odors of the marsh, the faint fragrance of fermented comberry.

From around a boulder to the right traipsed a scrib. Instinctively Ku-vastei raised her spear, but gradually lowered it as she watched the scrib stumble once, then again, before crashing down to the ground and deciding it best just to lay there than try to walk anymore. Ku-vastei stepped over the fallen scrib and followed the scent of shein before finding its source around the corner: a smashed earthenware bottle of the comberry wine, its dark contents staining the earth. 

But the tracks ended here. She turned around to see if she had mistraced them, slowly scanning her surroundings. Just as she noticed the footsteps heading off behind another boulder towards the coast, she heard a sound: a sickening, crunching sound, followed by a satisfied squeal. She readied her spear again and slowly approached.

A kwama forager was feasting on something. Evidently it heard her, and wriggled around, its wide, toothy mouth filled with gore. As it launched itself through the air, she caught a glimpse of its meal: a bloodied corpse. 

She had no more time to inspect it. She quickly darted to the side, barely avoiding the lunge of the large larva. Her arm swung out defensively, and the upper haft of her spear slammed into the forager, forcing a scream from its long throat. She spun around on one foot, the other slamming down close to the battered worm. She upturned her spear, and thrust downwards.

Her aim was true. The forager was pierced – straight through its bile-spit sac. A long stream of the bile-spit arced upwards, coating the rings of Ku-vastei’s new cuirass, soaking through to her tunic, and then spraying down her pants as it emptied out. She gagged violently at the smell and the sticky-wet feeling clinging her clothes to her scales.

It was dead, but the burst bile-spit sac meant she couldn’t harvest any of the meat. Shame. She wiped her hands on the nearby boulder, and neared the corpse.

A Cyrod, by the looks of what was left of his relatively untouched face – only the nose and ears had been bitten off by passing critters. His clothes, torn and gnawed-through, were coated with his dried blood. His chest had been opened up, ribs revealed, organs half-missing. 

She decided that was enough inspection of the body. She was already nauseous from the bile-spit smell, and the putrid stench of a body half-decayed in a hot, humid climate was not helping. She breathed only through her mouth as she reached down and investigated his belongings. There was a coin-purse tied to his belt, which by her brief count held a remarkable two-hundred septims. She patted down his pockets, and pulled from one a small roll of paper. Opening it, she found some kind of list of names. At the top was a name she’d just heard: “Processus Vitellius.”

She glanced at the other names, each of which was associated with a tax amount, and whether or not that tax had been collected. Some names she’d heard already. Arrille, Eldafire, Fargoth. But nothing really stood out to her.

She forced herself to look over the body again. It was difficult to tell the cause of death. There were no obvious wounds beyond the obvious post-mortem scavenging. His face was seemingly bruised in some places, but it could be the discoloration of decay. She did notice, upon peeking into his collar, that his entire neck was ringed with a dark blue-purple. Strangulated?

Ku-vastei stored the coin-purse and tax record in her somehow clean bag. She walked to the coast just a few meters beyond the nearby boulder, set the sack in the sand, and went about trying to wash the bile-spit stink from her clothes and body.

- - -

Almost immediately after Ku-vastei closed the tradehouse door behind her, she heard a groaning gasp. She turned to see Arrille covering his face with his sleeve and his Dunmer companion pinching her nose. “By the gods, you smell like guar-shit,” said Arrille. “Er. Pardon my Bretic.”

“Here,” said the Dunmer woman. She picked a small glass vial from the wares-laden table behind her and offered it to Ku-vastei. 

Ku-vastei hesitated. “What is it?”

“Telvanni bug musk,” she replied. “Strong, potent stuff. But better than whatever you rolled in.”

“That stuff’s not cheap, Tolvise,” snipped Arrille. “Don’t get used to giving away my merchandise.”

Tolvise ignored him. “Dab some on your wrists, then rub it on your neck. Don’t be afraid to be…extra generous. And, I suppose, mind the gills. Burns enough if you get it in your eyes, I imagine breathing it would be worse.”

Ku-vastei delicately took the vial between fore-claw and thumb, and popped out the corkbulb stopper. She dripped a few drops onto her wrist. Tolvise shook her head. Ku-vastei added a few more drops. Tolvise held the vial as Ku-vastei rubbed her wrists together, then spread the powerful perfume carefully around her gills. The sharp smell of the bug musk seemed to completely envelop her.

Tolvise smiled and let go of her nose. “There. You’re more charming already.”

“Thank you,” said Ku-vastei, bowing her head slightly.

Tolvise leaned in conspiratorially, which Ku-vastei allowed. “A little secret, friend: people in Vvardenfell care a great deal about appearances. They’ll like you more if, for example, you smell nice. Or,” she stopped to give Ku-vastei’s outfit a once-over, “if you’re wearing fine clothes. A little advice, too: there’s a decent clothier a town over, in Pelagiad.” Ku-vastei, unsure whether to feel insulted or not, simply nodded.

“Now that you’re less…distracting,” chimed in Arrille, “what have you found out about Processus? I know you haven’t been all the way to Hla Oad yet, it’s barely midday.”

“Didn’t have to,” said Ku-vastei. “I found him just north of here. Murdered.”

Tolvise gasped, a shrill sound that embarrassed Ku-vastei for some reason. “Unlikely,” said Arrille, waving a quieting hand towards Tolvise. “Doesn’t happen here. He probably just ran afoul of a pack of wild nix, or something.”

“Do the nix hounds in Vvardenfell strangle their prey by the throat, leaving no bite-marks?”

Arrille fell silent. Tolvise turned away, her hand over her mouth.

“Gods,” whispered Arrille, finally breaking the silence.

“This doesn’t happen here,” muttered Tolvise indignantly, her fist balled at her side. “This isn’t a big city, like Vivec or Balmora. We’re a good, Imperial town. Where were the guards?”

“The guards!” cried Arrille, but lowered his voice after a quick glance upstairs. “You should report this to them. They will deal with it.”

Ku-vastei scratched her pale-scaled chin, her tail swinging pensively behind her. “No.”

Arrille and Tolvise’s heads jerked towards Ku-vastei. “What do you mean, ‘no?’” asked Tolvise.

“Guards are too slow and noisy,” began Ku-vastei. “If the murderer is still in town – I trust no one else has been missing lately?”

“No, just Processus.”

“Then we assume they’re still in Seyda Neen. If we tell the guards, word will get out. The killer will have a chance to flee.”

“Hm,” hummed Arrille. “That is likely, yes.”

“So I will investigate on my own, quietly. I’m a newcomer, an outlander. No one here knows me.” Ku-vastei shifted her weight to lean on her spear. “But I have no leads.”

“Nothing at all?” asked Tolvise.

“Well,” said Ku-vastei, remembering. She pulled her pack from her back and fished the crumpled roll of parchment from it. “I found this on him.” She extended her hand over the counter.

Arrille snatched the paper from her claw with one hand, and with the other he slipped a pair of cracked spectacles from his shirt-pocket. He rested them on the bridge of his aquiline nose and tilted his head, squinting through an unfractured pane of lens at the list on the paper. “Ah,” he said. “The tax record. Hm…”

After a moment of quiet reading, he glanced up at Tolvise over the rim of his glasses. “You’re not on the list, Tolvise. Do you not pay taxes?”

Tolvise pulled a strand of hair behind her sharp ear and looked away. “Well, you see…Look, that doesn’t really matter, does it? Are there any clues in there, or not?”

Arrille grumbled something unintelligible, then looked back at the list. “I don’t know. Maybe she could investigate anyone with unpaid taxes? That’s about half the town, though.”

“Was there anyone close to him?” asked Ku-vastei.

“Taxmen don’t easily make friends.”

“Well,” said Tolvise, “there is the lighthouse keeper, Thavere. He’d been spending a lot of time with her the past few months. I even saw them kiss once, so I suppose they were lovers.”

“A lover’s quarrel gone wrong?” asked Arrille with a slight smirk.

“No, Arrille,” said Tolvise with a roll of her crimson eyes. “Be serious. Ku-vastei, you should start by talking to Thavere. Be gentle when you tell her the news, though.”

Ku-vastei nodded, took the tax record back from Arrille, and left without another word.

- - -

Ku-vastei hiked through the marsh of the lower town, passing run-down shacks and shallow quagmires as she made her way towards the lighthouse, the most identifiable landmark of Seyda Neen. Naturally, it was a tall building, stone-built with rot-chewed wooden beams poking through on a few levels. It had a catawampus angle to it, its light-bearing top platform shifted to the side a bit to account for the outer staircase to reach it. 

At the top, leaning against a stone post, was a figure, staring out at the town. It seemed to take notice of Ku-vastei approaching, and disappeared into the lighthouse.

The ground-level door faced the sea to the south, so Ku-vastei had to wrap around and climb a few steps onto a wooden platform to reach it. Ku-vastei knocked and waited a moment, the idle swinging of her tail shifting her weight and creaking the boards under her feet. Finally the door cracked open, a pair of red eyes peering through. Then it swung wide open, straining squeaky hinges. There stood a Dunmer woman, pale and with graying brown hair pulled back tight in a ponytail, but with many unkempt stragglers flying loose about her head like a halo in the sunlight streaming in. 

She smiled wide, her lips parted as she panted from descending the stairs, her yellowed teeth on full display. “Hello, and welcome!” she said, her voice strained with excitement and exertion. “I saw you get off the boat this morning! From upstairs, of course.” She leaned on the door frame as she fired off each word erratically. “You know, not many ships come through here anymore. They either go to Ebonheart or further north. No love for little Seyda Neen. Some people like it to stay quiet here, but I miss the excitement of Imperial dignitaries passing through, you know?”

Ku-vastei did not know. Seeing the blank stare, the lighthouse keeper Thavere said, “Oh, sorry. I’m rambling. Don’t talk to people much these days. Here, come in. Let’s visit.” She stepped back, holding the door open for Ku-vastei to enter. Tentatively Ku-vastei took a step forward past the threshold. 

The first floor room of the lighthouse was cramped. There was a small candlestick on a table to the left dimly illuminating the space. Next to the table was a storage chest, and across from it was a stove by a narrow bed, neatly made. A teapot whistled away on the stovetop, flooding the room with wisps of steam. Under the stairwell across the chamber was a cluster of barrels and crates. 

“Tea?” asked Thavere, reaching for the teapot. Without waiting for an answer, she grabbed a loose redware cup from the table and filled it with some pale yellow brew. She offered it to Ku-vastei, who accepted it slowly. 

“What kind?” asked Ku-vastei, staring into the cup. It had a faint herbal scent.

“Mint chai, from Elsweyr,” said Thavere as she poured herself a cup. “Sorry, you probably expected something local. I’m a bit of a collector. Not a lot to do when cooped up in a lighthouse all day. So I order exotic teas and drink them. Helps me to keep awake at night, too. This chai is one of my favorites. Try it! Mind the heat, though.”

Ku-vastei blinked once, then twice. She gave the tea another sniff – so this was “mint?” She took a careful sip, fighting not to burn her mouth. It was good; the mint felt cool and tingly on her tongue, despite the heat of the tea. “Thank you,” she said before trying another sip.

“Don’t mention it!” said Thavere, her hands jittering as she held her own cup. “A lot of Dunmer here are quite rude to outlanders, but I find you all fascinating! Plus, I subscribe to the friendlier rules of Nordic hospitality.” She gasped and covered her mouth. “There I go again, forgetting my manners! I don’t even have your name! You can go ahead and sit down in that chair as well. What shall I call you?”

“Ku-vastei,” she answered as she tucked her tail to the side to sit down. “You’re Thavere, right?”

“Sure am!” the lighthouse keeper said as she sat on the edge of the bed. “Pleased to meet you, Ku-vastei! May I just call you Ku?”

“Sure,” Ku-vastei sighed. “Look, I came here to ask you some questions.”

“Oh?” Thavere said, tilting her head. “Go ahead, I’d love to help if you need any guidance or advice.”

Ku-vastei sighed again and looked away. “Actually, it’s about Processus.”

Some of Thavere’s bubbliness simmered down at the mention of his name. “Oh. Do you…well. He’s probably off to Ebonheart, if you’re looking for him. Maybe to see the Duke! Processus is a very important man.” She paused a moment, looking down at her cup. “Usually he tells me when he’s leaving. But he didn’t, this time.”

“You two were close?” Ku-vastei asked.

“Yes, I would say so! He’s too shy to admit it himself, but I think he’s the love of my life. I…what do you mean, ‘were’?”

“Thavere,” Ku-vastei said, “put your cup down.”

Slowly, with a hand shaky from both drink and anxiety, Thavere set her cup down on a nearby crate.

“I found Processus this morning, north of town. He’s been murdered.”

The only sound was the tea still whistling on the stove, and the faint creaking of the lighthouse above them.

“Are…are you sure? That it was him?”

“He had his tax records with him, with his name on it.”

Thavere’s eyes were fixed on the floor, unblinking. “Can you…” The words came out as half-sob, startling her from her trance. “Can you give me a moment, please.”

Ku-vastei nodded, stood, and walked outside, closing the door quietly behind her.

She sat down on the wooden boards and closed her eyes, pretending not to hear the muffled sobbing inside. Ku-vastei tried to push away old memories that were attempting to resurface upon hearing those sounds. She had locked them away deep in her soul when she herself was locked away in the Imperial Prison. In a new unfamiliar place like this was certainly not the best time for them to reemerge, so she stifled them again as best she could. 

After listening to the waves of pain behind her subside, she stood and went back inside. Thavere was half laid out on the bed, dark pools of tears staining the sheets. She looked up glumly at Ku-vastei.

“I’m sorry,” she said, “but I need to ask you some questions.”

“Did…” Thavere began, before clearing her throat with a small cough, “did you find his ring?”

“No, I didn’t see any ring on his fingers,” Ku-vastei said.

“Oh…” Thavere said just before her face began to scrunch back up into the shape of weeping. She rubbed her eyes with her palms, seeming to press too hard into them. “I don’t…know what I’ll do without him. He was the…gentlest man I ever met. Never got angry at anyone, but once or twice, I guess. Never raised a hand to anyone, certainly not me.”

“Who did he get angry with?” Ku-vastei asked, sitting back down so as to be on her level. 

Thavere straightened her posture a bit and swept a tear from her face. “Oh, I don’t know…well. I did see him arguing with Foryn, Foryn Gilnith, a couple weeks ago. About his taxes. Foryn claimed he was cheating everyone. Levying too much, and skimming off the top for himself. Nonsense, of course, Processus is…was…an honest man.”

“Where could I find this Foryn?”

“Oh, he lives down the way.” Thavere pointed backwards through the walls. “The side of the lowtown closest to the coast. Last one down that way, on the left if you head out from here.”

“Okay,” said Ku-vastei. “I’ll go talk to him, and leave you alone. Take care of yourself.” 

Just as Ku-vastei was opening the door, Thavere said, “Wait. If you find Processus’ ring…please bring it to me. It’s silver, with a long shard of sard in it. It would…ease my heart, somewhat.”

Ku-vastei nodded and left the lighthouse and its grief behind. 

- - -

Ku-vastei knocked on the door to the last shack on the left, her spear held tightly in hand. The door slammed open, revealing a clearly half-drunk Dunmer man, disheveled of hair and dress, his red eyes narrowed in the light. “Whaddaya want, outlander?”

“To talk,” said Ku-vastei.

“Bah!” huffed the Dunmer, and he slammed the door shut –

– but it caught on the haft of Ku-vastei’s spear. “Didn’t ask,” she said, pushing the door open with a mighty fist.

The inside of the shack was small and filthy. Loose bottles – some empty, some half so – and piles of discarded bones – some picked clean, others half so – littered the floor. “Hey,” said Foryn, “you can’t do that. I’ll call the guards–”

“Tell me about Processus,” Ku-vastei said, closing the door behind her.

The Dunmer’s mouth snapped shut. After a tantalizing pause, he grabbed a bottle of mazte from the table behind him and took a swig, never turning away from Ku-vastei. “Yeah? What about the fetcher?”

“Did you know he’s dead?” Ku-vastei asked, her grip on her spear tightening.

“Yeah, I did. I’m the one what did the fetcher in,” Foryn said, slurring his words through the alcohol. “Good thing, too. Bastard was skimming off the top. Overcharging the taxes and keeping the extra for hisself. Always showing off, too. Flaunting his fancy clothes and jewels.” He flashed a ring on his finger at Ku-vastei, as if to prove his point. Long jewel, reddish-brown. Like sard. “So yeah, I killed him. Left his body – and his stolen money – to rot in the swamp.”

Ku-vastei tilted her head to the side. She hadn’t expected a straight-forward confession. This man really believed he was in the right to murder. Or he was just spectacularly drunk. Or both. But, a confession’s a confession. “That’s no excuse,” she said. “You killed a man in cold blood. You’re coming with me.”

“Like hell I am, n’wah! You’re another one of them, huh? Well, I got no problem spilling the blood of another Imperial lackey!”

Before Ku-vastei could ready her spear, a half-full jug of mazte was crashing into her face, burning her eyes with alcohol and snout with blunt trauma. She swiped blindly with her weapon, but only managed to thud against the wall of the shack. She was given no time to recover; evidently Foryn had ducked the spear swing and went straight for her waist, tackling her to the dirt floor. Her grip on her spear failed, and, mazte-fueled, he began striking her on the face and chest, punching the air from her lungs and the sense from her head. She tried to wriggle free, to retaliate, but her arms were pinned. Blow after blow she suffered, and she could feel blackness encroaching upon her mind.

There was, she remembered, a trick she’d half-learned in a book she read in prison, once. She’d never cast the spell before, nor even attempted it. She struggled to find the mental fortitude to reach across Oblivion to conjure…

Do you need my help, mortal? Very well. But you owe me, now.

No time to worry about the voice. The blade was now in her hand, and she jerked it sideways, cutting into Foryn’s leg. He howled like a mating kagouti, and fell off of her. She followed the momentum and rolled over, and the bound dagger was in his throat before either of them knew it. He gasped and choked, unsure whether to grasp his wounded hamstring or his spurting neck. Neither availed him, and he fell still.

Ku-vastei rolled over onto her back and gasped for air for several moments. She barely reacted to the banging on the door until it burst halfway open, blocked by Foryn’s corpse.

“What in…Truccius, help me with this, will you? There’s something in the…Nine, that’s blood. A lot of blood.”

As the guards tried to push open the door, Ku-vastei tried to pull Foryn’s body away from it to make room. Finally it was cleared wide enough to let in the late afternoon light, and the metal boots of the first guard. He pointed a sword at Ku-vastei’s black throat, who was now sitting up against a crate by Foryn’s hammock. “Argonian, what in Oblivion happened here?” 

“Attacked me,” Ku-vastei muttered, still trying to catch her breath, clutching her ribs. 

“Speak up,” said the second guard, Truccius, from behind the first. “Loud enough both of us can hear you, dammit.”

Ku-vastei inhaled deeply again, the air burning inside her lungs. “A moment, please.” She held up her bloody claws in a sign her naheesh had taught her long ago when she was not much older than a hatchling. 

“What are you doing? Stop!” commanded the first guard, pushing his sword closer to Ku-vastei’s neck. 

“Wait, I know that one,” said Truccius, placing a hand on his comrade’s shoulder. “Leave her be. She’s healing.”

Ku-vastei felt the warmth of the Hearth suffuse her, clearing up the already-bruising blows to her face and chest, and each breath thereafter became easier. When the aching in her throat was mostly gone, and her breathing relaxed, she spoke. “He attacked me after he confessed to murdering the taxman.”

“You can tell it to Socucius,” said the guard with the sword. “Truccius, guard the body. Keep onlookers away. I’m taking her in. Come with me, Argonian. No, leave the body alone! And leave the spear. This is a crime scene, now. If Socucius believes your story, you can have the spear back. Come along.”

- - - 

“So,” said Socucius Ergalla, “you found Processus’ corpse, and were able to track down his murderer, who you’ve just killed?”

“Yes,” Ku-vastei nodded. “Arrille and Tolvise, as well as the lighthouse keeper, helped me with the investigation.” Slowly, keeping her eyes fixed on the guard who brought her in, she reached into her pack and pulled out the tax record. “This shows that Foryn has the highest unpaid tax in Seyda Neen, and Thavere told me that she had seen him and Processus arguing over his taxes several days ago.”

Socucius examined the tax record without taking it from Ku-vastei. “I see. So this, you believe, was Foryn’s motive?”

“Yes,” Ku-vastei said. “From what I could tell from Processus’ body, he was strangled to death. I have discovered in my experience with him that Foryn is a skilled martial artist. There was also a bottle of shein near the corpse; I believe Foryn got Processus drunk, led him into the wilderness, and killed him there.”

“Hm…” droned Socucius. “I have no reason to suspect you are lying to me, Ku-vastei. I will request that you stay in town, under watch, until we can verify your story with other witnesses and examine the scene of Processus’ death. Otherwise you are free to go. And,” he said, reaching into a nearby chest, “take this for your efforts. You’ve done the Empire a great service by delivering justice for the loss of one of its servants.”

He handed Ku-vastei a heavy burlap sack. She peeked inside to see the glimmer of hundreds of gold coins. “Five-hundred septims,” Socucius explains. “We keep rewards for those who serve the Empire. I hope you use them well. Ganerus, take her to Arrille’s tradehouse and begin your interviews.”

- - -

After speaking with Arrille and Tolvise in the tradehouse, as the sun was half-set, Ku-vastei convinced Ganerus to stay outside as she spoke to the lighthouse keeper on personal matters. There was no tea boiling on the stove. Thavere was laying on her back in the disheveled bed, but she sat up awkwardly as Ku-vastei entered. “Hello, Thavere,” said Ku-vastei.

“Ku,” Thavere groaned, rubbing her redder-than-usual eyes. “I’m glad to see you. What news?”

“Foryn confessed to the murder,” said Ku-vastei, sitting down in the chair. “He’s dead now.”

“Good,” Thavere said, crossing her arms and rubbing her shoulders. “Does…does it make me a bad person, to be glad to hear it?”

“No,” Ku-vastei says. “It makes you a grieving woman. Processus has his justice.”

“May he rest easy, now,” Thavere said, looking down. 

“There’s more,” Ku-vastei said. She slipped from her pocket something small and shining. She reached over to hand it to Thavere.

Thavere took the ring and gasped. “You found it! And not a scratch! Thank you, muthsera, thank you!” She slipped it on her middle finger and gazed lovingly at it. “It’s good to have something to remember him by, though I’ll never see him again. Oh!” She stood and reached into the chest by Ku-vastei. “Take these, Ku. Potions of healing. Processus always took a couple with him on his trips. If only he had this time…” She nearly fell to weeping again, but some spark of resolve steadied her. “Thank you, Ku, for everything. Will you stay in Seyda Neen?”

“No,” said Ku-vastei. “I have business in Balmora.”

“Oh…well. I hope the potions are of use to you in your travels, then. Be well, Ku-vastei.”

“And you, Thavere.” Ku-vastei considered saying more, but thought it unwise. So she stood, waved, and returned to Imperial custody.

[toooster]

OKOKOK SO

we’re both Aussie right? And so our Christmas is in the summer and I really wanna see the snow someday and so does he and so I sent him a reel of New York Christmas and he was like ‘when we booking tickets’ and I like fake bought tickets and everything and then THIS GUY. SAYS. I CAN HAVE THE WINDOW SEAT. AND IF WE SLEEP IN CENTRAL PARK I GET THE BENCH HE SLEEPS ON THE FLOOR. AND THEN. I SAID. I WOULD FREEZE IN NEW YORK. AND HE SAID. ‘It’s okay you can borrow my jacket’ AND WHEN I TELL YOU THIS MAN DOESNT LET PEOPLE BORROW THINGS.

LIKE I KNOW IM CRAZY BUT THAYS SORTA SOMETHING RIGHT?

AWWW NEENS HE SO WANTS YOU

[chthonickore]

Idfc if the grammar is wrong on this. Grow up

⁉️ Tu come manzanas ⁉️

[1moreoffkeyanthem]

As a hurt/comfort goblin who focuses on comfort, I’d just like to say how much I enjoy characters gaining weight and getting softer as a physical manifestation of their healing. And I’ll say it; to each their own ofc and I am in fact an enjoyer of the suffering aspect of whump, but a character showing physically how much safer they are just gets me man

[vamprisms]

i feel like shadowheart and lae'zel's beef couldn't be solved by gay sex but they should try anyway

[jell-hell]

It's up for debate if I'm autistic or not but there are people and situations that make me feel like I'm "unmasking" and that I can just be myself comfortably and it's always with people that are autistic... much to think about

[lensdeer]

No I can't fucking be normal about the Morrowind intro

After you start the game, Jiub says he "heard [the guards] say you've reached Morrowind", but in the cutscene Azura says they took you out of the Imperial City Prison "first by carriage and now by boat", so what the fuck sort of route did you take that the people driving the boat set sail from somewhere outside Morrowind and only "reached" it near Seyda Neen.

I'm extremely autistic about The Elder Scrolls lore, so I have obsessed about this issue for years: Jiub clearly meant you reached "Vvardenfell" the island within "Morrowind" the Province. I get it; from a marketing point of view, it makes sense to namedrop the name in the game's box right as you start playing, but bear with me here (why they didn't name the game "TES III: Vvardenfell" instead still escapes me; Daggerfall isn't named "High Rock" or "Hammerfell" anyways, so it doesn't have to be a province name! "TES II: Iliac Bay" would've been a significantly worse if more accurate name for that one anyways, but I digress).

With the beautiful amount of care Morrowind's team of writers put into even the most mundane details of the game's lore this detail has always struck me as weird, and since TES canon has an in-universe explanation for even the most minor gameplay mechanics like Oblivion not having levitation spells, I can't stop fucking thinking about it.

See, it's pretty easy to see that this is the optimal/fastest (and therefore most likely) route the guards used to move you from the Imperial City Prison to Seyda Neen:

Out of the Prison through the Imperial City itself, over Lake Rumare through the Talos Bridge, around the Red Ring Road and then the Blue Road, maybe stopping for the night in Cheydinhal, entering Morrowind through some frontier pass in the Velothi Mountains, traveling through the Stonefalls region for a bit, and finally boarding a ship on Old Ebonheart to take you to Seyda Neen.

In this case, you entered Morrowind WAY before even getting on the ship! It makes absolutely no sense that they would say you "reached Morrowind" if you traveled through this, the only sensible route.

So what the hell kind of route did they take you through?

If, for some reason, the guards didn't want you to set foot in Morrowind-The-Province until Seyda Neen and Seyda Neen only, they would've had to have taken you through a laughably inefficient route:

It starts the same as the previous route, but they would've had to split off the Blue Road before reaching Cheydinhal, crossed the significantly colder and more dangerous Jerall Mountains to enter Skyrim somewhere around Riften (rest stop?), wasted a bunch of time navigating through The Rift and Eastmarch, boarded a ship on Windhelm, navigated through icebergs in the Sea of Ghosts, and wasted a even more time navigating all the way through the Inner Sea to get to Seyda Neen (why not drop you off at Gnisis or somewhere else in north Vvardenfell at that point?).

If you were being taken to Morrowind with any degree of urgency it makes absolutely no sense to waste this much time and resources navigating through Skyrim's significantly less hospitable geography. And, even then, wouldn't the guards have said you "reached Morrowind" around the time the ship went into the Inner Sea anyways???

Thing is, that's literally the only other justifiable option. If they didn't want you to touch Morrowind OR Skyrim before getting dropped off at Seyda Neen, the only remaining option is the even more stupid Plan C:

Maybe they wanted to take you for the scenic route! The Nerevarine prophecy can get fulfilled fucking whenever, who cares:

Go down the Green Road through Bravil and board a ship in Leyawiin (maybe the Khajiit heard you're Azura(h)'s champion and let you through the Tenmar Jungle so you board it in Senchal instead?), and strap the FUCK in for the voyage of a lifetime through the Nepal Sea and sail the Padomaic Ocean aaaaaaaaall the fucking way around Black Marsh and mainland Morrowind, dodge a couple icebergs in the Sea of Ghosts, and navigate the Inner Sea to finally get to Seyda Neen (because fuck Tel Mora, Vivec and Ebonheart; we're determined here), like, at this point multiple years after leaving the Imperial City. Hope you packed enough provisions, because these guys are determined to not "reach Morrowind" until the Bitter Coast!

Alternatively: at this point, why didn't they just commit to the bit and just get some weirdo at the Arcane University to teleport you directly to Vvardenfell?

Condense multiple days of travel into a quick afternoon stroll through the Imperial City! Maybe the guards can do some shopping, watch a quick match in the Arena or chill for a bit in the Arboretum on their way back from dropping you off. Why not. Perfection.

Anyways. I like Morrowind, and I obsess over this topic every time I think about it. Hope I passed on my brainworms to y'all.

[thyfleshc0nsumed]

ESO was a huuuuuge part of my life for a number of years, like when I came out in high school and lost the few friends I did have, ESO was the venue for all my meaningful social relationships.

Its very much an elder scrolls themed game more than it is an elder scrolls game but in all honesty like I think it's kinda great for that. The fan service shit drove me fucking insane though like there is literally zero reason that Seyda Neen should exist in the second era it's genuinely baffling. That being said, Vvardenfell is fucking gorgeous in it. Such insanely beautiful environments.

It's a game I literally can never play again cuz in order for you to have fun you kinda gotta spend all your free time playing it but every so often I do feel like the wistful stick figure guy on the computer thinking about past stick figure guy on the computer