#how straight miraak's hair was

[the-ace-of-fools]

[argisthebulwark]

Come Kiss Me & Bite Me

summary: them receiving oral. gn reader, no pronouns or y/n used. feat: Miraak, Farkas, Brynjolf, Erandur, Vilkas warnings: explicit sexual content. minors should not read or interact with this post in any way. consensual degradation, oral sex obv. masterlist / partner post - them giving oral

Miraak hisses your name, fingers buried in your hair and just enough pressure on your skull to keep him deep in your throat. Curses in old languages slip between his lips when your tongue drags along his cock, eyes watering and throat sore from edging him. His hips buck in a desperate attempt for contact when just his tip rests on your tongue, drool and precum dripping over your lips. You gaze up at him, aware of how lewd you appear when his cock twitches against your lips. His cheeks are flushed, chest heaving with every breath. You adore the sight. Miraak's face twitches as you lower your head, staring straight up at him while taking every inch of him into your mouth. He wants to be mean but has dissolved into a mess of whimpers and empty threats, pleading with you to let him orgasm.

The litany of sounds coming from Farkas make purchasing your own home worth it. Even with one hand slapped over his mouth you're certain the neighbors can hear him; his voice low and rough when your nose meets his pelvis, throat stretched around his girth. "Gods, you're heavenly." He moans, free hand clutching the bedsheets. You know how badly he wants to take charge but restrains himself, allowing you full control. You ease back, tongue dragging along the underside of his cock until your your mouth is empty. Sucking in a quick breath before you're taking all of him again, his muscles tensing in response. "Gonna cum," he mumbles mere seconds before cumming down your throat, your eyes squeezed shut as you bask in the way he moans just for you.

Brynjolf talks a lot. At first it's soft encouragement when you kneel before him, gathering any hair away from your face and murmuring about how good your tongue feels running along his shaft. It doesn't take much to have him completely undone - his head thrown back as your hands grip his thighs under the desk, his insistent fingers on the nape of your neck and groans echoing around the Cistern. "Gods, love - just like that, yeah." His hips grind upward, stuffing his cock deeper into your throat. It's hard to breathe and tears sting at your eyes but you want more of him, mindless to the possibility of getting caught. "So good f'me," he grumbles, petting down the back of your hair when you choke around him. "Always so good, love."

Erandur cannot fathom why you would do such a thing for him - he insists on reciprocating until you say those words that make his breath catch in his throat. "I want you." He's never been wanted like this. Never before has anyone hungered for him, no one has ever gazed up at him with eyes so shamelessly full of desire. Your lips look so pretty when they wrap lovingly around his cock, gentle fingers holding his hips in place as pleasure shivers down his spine. When his tip nudges the back of your throat apologies blossom on his lips, silenced by the little moan that vibrates through your chest. Erandur has never known the sheer bliss only you can bring; your tongue tracing along his cock, your hands on his body, your eyes staring up at him, gauging his reactions. You are everything.

After triple checking your comfort, Vilkas loves being mean to you. He knows it pleases you too - he sees the color in your cheeks when he smirks around those degrading remarks, nails scraping against your scalp when his fingers twist deeper into your hair. He watches your eyes roll back as his hand guides your mouth up and down along his cock, drool gathering near the base and dripping down his thigh. "Such a fuckin' slut," he praises as he fucks your throat, pleasure building far too quickly. He wants to last longer, wants to watch you shamelessly grind against the mattress in search of relief. "Gonna let me cum inside you?" "Mfhh," he feels your little nod and stills, breath coming out in huffy pants when you swallow around him. Each little move makes his cock throb but fuck you're so warm, so soft just for him.

[seva-over]

A COZY NIGHT

Husband!Miraak x wife!reader, feat. Sofie and Lucia (found family)

Warnings: reader is tired, some mentions of reader’s usual battles, and that’s about it. Pure comfort for reader and her little family. Also this fanfic’s kinda short.

You came home well past midnight. You’d made the mistake of wearing lighter armor earlier today, not expecting anyone to try and attack you. Turned out the local bandits weren’t smart enough to realize that you were, in fact, the Dragonborn, and that a single shout from you could send them all flying to Elsweyr. Still, a few arrows had managed to catch your unprepared body off guard. With a few potions and some magic, you were able to heal yourself; that didn’t mean you were any less angry, though.

As you set your bag filled with ingredients and food for your daughters, you let out a groan of exhaustion. Oh, how you’d missed the comfort of your home. You were a tired soul, not even wanting to eat before plopping right into bed. Sitting down, you took off your shoes, then your dirty armor. You’d clean that tomorrow. You looked around the living room and sighed heavily. The lights were still on. Great. So your husband didn't care enough to put your kids to bed. You stood up straight again and strode into Sofie’s and Lucia’s room. The door was open, and the girls were nowhere to be seen. You growled to yourself. You hated when your girls stayed up too late. It wasn’t healthy for the youngsters!

"They'll start appreciating a good night's sleep once they're older," you mumbled to yourself, closing the door again.

You turned around to go upstairs, but stopped in your tracks when you saw your husband standing at the stairs. He was dressed in a thin nightgown, his hair slicked back, his mask off to reveal his unnatural yet handsome features. He stared at you silently, his thin lips forming a small smile. But you wouldn’t be swayed by his beauty. Not this time. You crossed your arms.

“Not even gonna say hello?” you asked bitterly. The pain and exhaustion of the night’s ordeal weren’t making you feel any less bitter about your husband’s carefree attitude. You took a step towards Miraak, opening your mouth to say another sharp remark, but he silenced you with a chaste kiss. Even though you’d promised to yourself to stay mad at him, you couldn’t help but melt a little. You closed your eyes with a soft exhale, your tense shoulders finally relaxing.

“Hush, my dear” Miraak whispered as he pulled away, gently taking your hand and leading you upstairs. You followed him obediently, your footsteps quiet on the wooden floor. As you walked, you could feel your legs aching with fatigue. You wished for nothing more than your warm bed…

Soon, you reached your bedroom, and your brows furrowed in confusion.

“Where are the kids?” you asked quietly, but your husband paid your question no mind. You sighed. They were probably playing near the lake again. You just wanted to sleep, so you guessed you could leave the kids to Miraak… He gently pushed the door open, and the sight that greeted you warmed your heart.

Your dear girls were sound asleep on your bed. There was a book in Sofie’s hand and a doll in Lucia’s. You stepped inside the room quietly, your hand reaching to stroke your daughters’ hair. The action made them mumble something incoherently, but they remained asleep. You gently took the book from Lucia and put it on the nightstand. You stared at the sight for a few moments, exhaustion giving way to motherly love. Then you sighed and got into bed as well. You hugged your daughters close, feeling Miraak climb into the bed as well. He pulled the three of you closer, his chin resting on the top of your head. Your eyes closed slowly. You could get used to it.

“I love you,” you heard your husband whisper, but you had no strength to reply. You hummed in response, your arms securely wrapped around Lucia and Sofie. Miraak chuckled lowly and closed his eyes as well. He didn’t need to hear you say it to know it was true: you loved him and your daughters more than anything in this life. And they loved you just as much.

[bougainvillea-and-saltwater]

NYEHEHE! HELLO. IT IS I. For the firsts ask: 8, 23, G, T, 🥹 and 💀!!!!

HELLO SENU BELOVED!!! WELCOME AND THANK YOU FOR THE ASKS!!! 🥰

☀️ask game!☀️

8. First time they took a risk, or the biggest risk they've ever taken

The very very first time Jia took a risk was when she went to kill the Glenmoril Witches in order to cleanse Kodlak’s spirit in the afterlife. She was grief-stricken and out of her mind back then, honestly. Seeing her adoptive father killed cost a portion of her sanity quite a lot: she just took her bow and daggers and went straight to their coven. She. literally wiped those witches out. I think it was the first moment when she went completely feral, maybe her Dragonborn powers unconsciously manifested too? This question put me in Thoughts…👀

23. First display of their powers or abilities

Jia had… an interesting childhood. Her Dragonborn power did not fully manifest until she absorbed her first dragon soul at the age of twenty, but glimpses of it were certainly there all along. First of all, Jia had visions when she was a child—visions where she was falling into a trancelike state and murmured the prophecy of Alduin’s return, among other things… She was often aloof and spoke in riddles. The Companions had frequently taken her to the Temple of Kynareth for it, and the Priestesses explained that Jia was certainly marked by the Gods, though they couldn’t really tap into what kind of power resided in her. Sometimes, when she was angry and shouted, the air around her whistled or got eerily hot. She ran while spreading her hands as if wanting to take flight and she literally used Whirlwind Sprint without knowing it... A Creepy Little Kid...

G. First time seeing the other one sick/injured

When they got out of Apocrypha, Jia was… she was Badly Injured, to say the least. Miraak was the first to rouse, so that was the first time he saw her in this state. He was equally exhausted and almost devoid of mana, but he utilized every bit of his magic to heal her while she lay unconscious. I think it stirred something in him, her broken view—something that maybe had to do with him bringing her back to life Miraculously when she was still a newborn babe, though he couldn’t consciously remember this at that point…👀

As for Jia, I’d say she hasn’t seen Miraak in A Terrible State (yet. . .), but she nurtured him when he completely emptied his magicka pool to heal Gregor. He was in Bad Shape admittedly, ready to pass out, his nose bleeding, his head spinning, so Jia held him through it, cooked for him, brushed and braided his hair… I can’t wait to write more scenes like these though… >:)

T. First time dancing together

answered here!

🥹 - First time describing strong emotions, and how you've improved since then

This is the part where I Laugh, because. [Screams]. I have improved A Lot. A Lot. I’m not even trying to self-praise, the first time I wrote my fic I described zero (0) emotions. And it’s so weird because I’m a person who loves reading what’s going on in a character’s head, always have been… Anyway, I think the first time I described strong emotions and I was satisfied with it was in chapter 15, Mea maxima culpa. It’s the chapter where Jia opens up to Miraak about her trauma. Still, I think I have improved even more since that chapter, even if I’m happy with how it turned out…

💀 - First time writing character death, and how you felt about it

I HAVEN’T WRITTEN A MAJOR CHARACTER DEATH. YET. BUT. [RUBBING MY HANDS TOGETHER LIKE A FLY]. I think I’ll greatly enjoy it. 😼 Pain. <3

[aureli-us]

okay halo people new question: what do you think chief actually looks like??? i LOVE masked characters (cough miraak) because i love the chance to sort of invent them physically below the mask. for that reason i hope to never actually see a canon john face in the games (despite being the literal greenest newbie to play halo on the planet rn) BUT i really enjoy trying to think of it myself??? some ideas i got browsing:

from the halo: escalation comic so the site said. i LOVE his baby blues i love how deep and colorful they are. i cant tell if he looks a little tan under there or it's just the shadow? i've seen somewhere the games or books describe him as too pale bc he rots in his armor all the time lmao. BUT i really really enjoy the oceanic eyes. idk if this comic ever shows his full face, i saw others did, but i would be SO interested to see what they do with the rest of him bc he'd probs look sick as fuck in the dark horse style

THIS ONE to me is gorgeous. i 100% love his hair here, it's exactly how i imagined it. brown and short, but like, military short but NOT a buzz (sorry i hate him w a buzzcut. its most probable but i cant😭) big fan of the widow's peak/hairline and tbh i really like his scars? im all for him being fucked up. part of me also wonders if his face would possibly be more protected??? but also all i know about spartans is that becoming a spartan Hurts so maybe they're like,,,, GMO scars

(ik i legit haven't touched deviantart for like....a decade) THIS was a cool collection. OP points out some similarities that are interesting (mainly his short brown hair, straight nose, and SCRUFF🥰🥰🥰). my favorite favorite favorite is probably second column from left, three down, the one where he has 117 buzzed into his undercut. that shit goes fuckin HARRRRRRRDDDDDDD. i tried to reverse search it but i couldn't rly find the OG of that one, which is sad 😔

that's all!!! i just thought it'd be cool to get ppl's thoughts. i saw a lot of comments that were basically like "chief has no face to me, he's the helmet" and tbh it makes a lot of sense, esp since that's legit how he was designed for the express purpose of first person feeling/relatability. feel free to reply or dm me your ideas!!!

[illumiera]

For the writing prompt game to warm up your mood for writing! 😍 14. For Miraak and dearest Elentari! 😘

thank you for the prompt! I couldn't resist being a bit crafty and using this one to write a little piece that you may well see again in some form in the future (hint, hint), but you might also recognise some lines from a chapter I already have up... 😼💖

#14: A kiss so desperate that the two wind around each other, refusing to let go until they are finished.

"Years I have dreamed of you," Miraak rasps on what Elentari knows is the last night, "and not once have I ever seen you in the flesh. You look like no man, nor any mer I have ever known. Your soul is the same as mine, though there are no others like me. Do I get to meet you, Light-bringer, or are you nothing more than a lie?"

The ache that grips Elentari's heart is enough to eclipse all thought, all breath, all sense. For a moment, she dangles on the precipice of throwing all caution to the wind, of telling him who and what she is, of seizing the tapestry that time has made of them and tearing out thread after thread until the world behaves according to her will—but they've talked about this, argued and sobbed themselves hoarse over it, and there's no other way.

He won't allow it to be any other way.

What she knows is this: his rebellion has been discovered, and in the morning, his temple will fall under siege. He will fight, all dragonfire and dragon-fury, absorbing so many souls that he'll feel like a god ripped from the heavens, but at the end, they'll adorn Vahlok with Konahrik's golden mask and charge him with ending the life of the man who had been his brother in all but blood. Vahlok's sword will deal a deathblow, a wound to the chest in the same place as the wound that once killed her, and as Miraak lies near-dying in the snow and rubble of sundered land, Hermaeus Mora will drag him to Apocrypha and steal away his memories of her until she Shouts them back into him.

She swallows and makes the choice that is no true choice at all. “You’ll meet me after the World-Eater falls,” she tells him, and if her voice is only a hairsbreadth above a whisper, it’s because she knows it’ll shatter apart if she dares lift it. The star-bright sky of their dreamscape winks out as one of them drifts closer to waking, either her in the Fourth Era or him in the Merethic, but first, she brushes a long strand of golden-blond hair from his face, cups his fine-stubbled cheeks in her hands, and whispers, “You won’t know me by sight, nor I you, and the words you speak will be foreign to me—but I promise you, dear heart, our souls will recognise one another as surely as dawn follows darkness.”

And gods help her, when she leans in, she seals her promise.

They’ve shared desperate kisses like this so often in her time, she knows how one of his hands will cup the back of her head, how his slender fingers will wind into her loose waves of silvery hair, and how the other will curl draconic about her waist, urging her closer until they could be soul-to-soul were he his future self, garbed in sun-fierce Dragon Aspect to match the lunar radiance of her own.

She knows how neatly she’ll fit in his lap when he pulls her in, and how it feels to wonder who begins where, who ends where, whether it matters at all.

She knows that when he wakes, she’ll be gone and he’ll be left to his fate, and when she wakes—

When she wakes, he’ll be right beside her, strong arms around her and straight, proud nose buried in her hair, and four thousand years and only a single night will have passed.

[venacoeurva]

Okay so some specific questions abt wren

you once mentioned that wren's lip color was poison with wax to protect his own skin. how does that work??? wouldn't it affect him when he eats/drinks/etc?

what does he do to his hair to make it look like that?

how did he get a hold of keening and put that in his prosthetic leg? how has he achieved this (presumably) without Wraithguard? how did he lose the leg in the first place? does the Dwemer danger prosthetic work the same as a regular prosthetic (just. more dangerous) or what? i'm very interested in his false leg.

you've talked about his scars if i recall correctly, but does he have any tattoos? peircings?

where does he get his clothes? they look altered from the regular Morrowind robes, or maybe a really loose translation of one of them shirts (what a low poly source does to a mf) so whats the story behind that design?

how does he fake his death? you've probably answered that before but idk i haven't seen it so I'm asking now. what does he do in the ~200 years where he is entirely unaccounted for because of his fake death, before the events of Skyrim?

has miraak stopped bullying teldryn yet.

and also what is YOUR favorite little thing about him that maybe no one has noticed yet?

sorry for a flood of questions. your Nerevarine is interesting and i like him a lot.

This is a long one so I'll number everything.

Lipstick--He wears a layer of wax under his lipstick to protect himself and doesn't really eat or drink with it on unless necessary, but he also keeps the actual poison away from where his lips meet and microdosed the ingredients for a few years to get used to it lest he ingest some. A little paralyzed or sick is better than immediate organ failure, yknow? In most events his targets will be compromised even if he suffers side effects because he opened their throats or they have the aforementioned organ failure. So basically don't kiss him if he has that lipstick on...

Hair-- His hair is naturally very straight and silky, he's just really lucky with cutting his own hair. The texture and color changed a ton by 4e because he faked his death to get away from the empire blackmailing more work out of him and some experimental spells had a weird side effect and cutting it short made it that kind of springy you get with that. Give it another 50 years or so and it should be back to normal! The reddish tint is natural, gets a bit more prominent in the summer.

Keeningcap-- Oh I could talk about his leg for days! He amputated it himself (the doodle of him doing that is accurate), because he had chronic pain it in post-corprus and after the above mentioned spell side effects it was starting to deteriorate even more. He would rather deal with what he considers an inconvenience of losing a leg and having to adjust to a prosthetic to dealing with the increasingly unbearable pain (also a bit of a personal projection wrt bad legs). Someone tried to kill him and he killed them in return one-handed while healing his own slashed throat before, so he has effective intense self-restoration down to a T and knew that would (probably) work again. Technically in game he can wield Keening without dying for a WHILE because he has like 10k health (for some reason), so it would hurt but not kill him as long as he put it back away quickly. He uses this as an intimidation tactic. He ended up losing the whole set while faking his death but got them back during the events of Skyrim since there's that quest to get em. There's also a good chance the Skyrim Keening is counterfeit since it won't actually borderline-instakill you, though, or perhaps it's heavily damaged? So that nullifies any potential danger once it's integrated in his leg. Accidental contact with his leg stump doesn't happen because the amputation happened upper thigh and keening is store and spring loaded to pop out with twisting his leg 3 times in his front lower leg. Aside from weaponization, the leg works as a robotic prosthetic would IRL, just with more magical bullshit as opposed to electricity and wires to the brain. It is kind of heavy, though, so he opts for conjuring a leg back if he's not expecting combat.

Scars/Tats/Piercings-- By the 4th era he has pierced ears, but finds tattoos a bad idea to have if you're reliant on not being identified, let alone if one of your methods for doing your job involves getting naked and someone else might see.

Clothes-- The blue robe is a major redux of the extravagant robe (specifically he wears poisonmirror, not even for the statboost anymore it's just been with him all this time), but lorewise for him it's a family heirloom alongside his spear and dagger and he blackmailed someone in prison to get them on the ship to Morrowind. The boots, gloves, and armor underneath are mostly improvised to fill in his design since I didn't want him to be too complex to draw. I didn't put much thought in, I made him in mw then eventually Skyrim and went "okay let's draw you" and he happened the way he did

Faked Death-- He knew the Empire was using him for their own gains during the crises in Morrowind, on top of hating them already beforehand, and that they'd get him to do more work for them if he stuck around or risk being put back in prison. So, after the Oblivion crisis, he faked a skooma addiction, found a dunmer bandit that was about his size who had ties to the skooma trade, burned the cavern dwelling with them in it, and left most of his stuff behind with them to make it look like he got in with a bad crowd and got burned (heh) for it. Despite the irony of the story being a dunmer who burned to death, he did that then he used some experimental alteration spells to alter his hair and eye color but the texture and slight saturation stayed in his hair and his eyes went back to normal after about 2 months. For the rest of the 3rd era he mostly wandered around Tamriel and did freelance contracts, spending a lot of time in Elsweyr and eventually returned to Cyrodiil during the Oblivion crisis. He met Shimmers-In-Shallows (my HoK) and helped her out for a while and moved on (and faked his death). When the Red Year happened, he was so grief-stricken he couldn't prevent that he had a breakdown and shut down emotionally for a few years. Guilt isn't a particular feeling he likes expressing, because it's weakness. If you asked him what he did during that, he couldn't tell you for most of it. He did to back to Morrowind and help out both on the mainland and off (and hooked up with Teldryn at some point while he was there, though if either of them remember is debatable). Eventually, he made his way into Skyrim and met Dusk, who through which he also (re)met Teldryn and then Miraak. He's had a more decent and continuous support system, since and less likely to blow himself up trying some stupid shit

Miraak Stop Sending Teldryn Flying-- Character story wise, yeah they get along somewhat. In game, no :(

Fave thing-- I don't really know, his persistence maybe? He just keeps on truckin. That, or his lack of fear makes him fun to write/draw.

[itssuppertim3]

Lean (Miraak x Reader):

Contemplating on writing for Pyramid Head every once in a while since I can't get the thick bastard off my mind but we'll see what the future brings

---------------------------------------------

"Do you like winter, Miraak?" I asked the man strolling quietly beside me. "Not necessarily. However, I remember a time when I did. My temple always felt a bit warmer-- more enjoyable during that time." I snorted at him in amusement, to which he wasn't fond of. "I just imagined you stringing up holiday decor." He merely scoffed in denial, though we both knew it was true.

While searching for another conversation topic, my foot slid against the mud beneath me. "Careful," Miraak warned as his hands clasped firmly around my shoulders. My breath was trapped in my throat from the sudden startle, but somehow he only made it worse. Once my voice came back to me, I said, "uh...-- yeah. Thank you." Damn, his hands were so warm. I could feel the heat emitting from them even through my armor. Alas, the soothing feeling dissappeared as soon as he retracted his arms.

"Honestly, I'm surprised you hadn't already cracked your skull before I came along. It seems that you are always tripping and stumbling wherever you go." I scratched my cheek and chuckled sheepishly. "Ah, you know me so well."

"That is only because I stand witness to it," he uttered. We continued onward to Morthal in silence. A week ago, Jarl Idgrod sent me a letter of assistance; "potential murdurer on the loose," it had read. She noted that she wasn't one to fall victim to senseless gossip, but over the last several days she had been growing paranoid of the situation. Thus, she requested us to investigate. "I wonder why the jarl wants two dragonborn to take care of a killer instead of the guards? Gods, I feel like most of the soldiers are just using this pitiful war as an excuse to be lazy," I grumbled with my arms crossing.

"I agree. Though as far as I'm concerned, she wants you to handle it, not I." I perked up at his remark. "What do you mean? Everyone should know by now that you're just as powerful as I am. We've been traveling together for three months." Miraak diverted his gaze from me and pointed it straight ahead. "Perhaps, but you and I are still very different from one another. The people of Skyrim view you as a hero to be remembered for ages, whereas I will forever be remembered as a traitor-- if I was even remembered at all." The atmosphere around us suddenly became very dim. For a moment, the only noise that could be heard was the mire sloshing under our boots.

"That's bullshit," I retorted finally. Miraak was taken aback by my sudden change of attitude. "Excuse my language, but it is. Look at all of the good you've done since we've been together! We took down a vampire lord for crying out loud! And yeah, we weren't thanked for it or anything--"

"Y/n."

"But that doesn't matter. What does matter is that you put in a lot of effort to make the world safer, and I think that deserves respect."

"Y/n." By now, Miraak was no longer walking at my side. "What is it?" Before he was able to respond, the muddy ground had fallen loose beneath me and I plummeted into a brown socket of water. Oh yeah, I forgot that we were trudging through a swamp. The filth shot through my mouth and nose as I was completely sumberged. To make matters worse, the water was also incredibly frigid, making it even more difficult to sort through my panic. A pair of arms dove into the murk and proceeded to yank me up by my collar.

I gurgled, spluttered, and heaved strong breaths once I was dragged out of harm's way. Miraak shook his head at me all the while. I could practically feel the smirk hiding under his mask. "Oh, yeah. Real funny. Please continue... to remind me of how much... of a klutz I am," I rasped, still trying to flow air into my lungs. "I did try to warn you, you know. You were about to walk straight into the pond," the man defended. "Ok. I'll give you that." Miraak helped me to my feet after I finally regained my composure. "Oh, great," I sighed at the muck covering me head-to-toe. "I look so unprofessional." He skimmed over the grime coated over my outfit before scooping a clump of mud and smearing some over his robes. "I suppose we'll both have to look unprofessional, then." My cheeks tainted a dark pink at his actions, but I decided to blame it on the nip in the air.

My arms hugged my body when I started to shiver. Going for a dip in late autumn definitely wasn't the best of choices. Miraak scanned over the map and pinpointed our distance from Morthal. "We won't be able to arrive there before nightfall. We still have an hour left to go," he informed. I groaned to myself in reply. "Guess we'll have to make camp, then." He nodded, gesturing me to follow him.

In a matter of minutes, he had already secured a decent campfire and was now assembling the tent. Meanwhile, I was sitting on a nearby log with my bedroll enveloped around my trembling body. I was enjoying watching him, though. "I'd say you're a natural. When did you get so skilled at camping?" I inquired once he took a seat next to me. "By learning from you," he stated simply. Gods, how could he be such a jerk yet act so charming?! I avoided saying anything more and began scrubbing the dirt from my armor with a wet rag.

It was freezing, tonight. There was no comforting glow from the moon and stars due to the thick layer of clouds overhead, which only made it feel colder. I shuddered when a breeze travelled through the area and tormented my body. I was still wearing my undershirt and trousers, and even those were still damp. The cloth made my fingers sting the more I used it, until I felt Miraak's hand take ahold of my own. "Your fingers are red," were the only words that left his mouth before he grabbed my other hand and squeezed them both gently. I was so shocked by this that I couldn't even so much as blink. "Are you cold?" I had forgotten about the prickles climbing over my skin. "Um--uhh, kind of." How did my voice become so small?

Before I could protest, I was pulled closer to Miraak. And now that I left exposed, he felt even warmer than he did earlier. I wasn't even touching him! Not to mention how nice his hands felt. He was like a portable smelter! I stayed more silent than a moth as he continued to caress my fingers and palms. There was no telling what was going on inside of that brain of his.

"You may lean against me, if you like."

Oh.

Oh!

My heart was thrashing around inside of my chest. He wanted me to just... slide even closer and lean on him?! Just like that?! By now, my mind was spiraling in both confusion and embarrassment. Still, I was very cold. There wasn't any harm in doing it, right? He was the one who offered. I ultimately accepted his proposal.

It started off with our knees touching awkardly, and then with my head attempting to rest against his shoulder, which failed due to the golden scales protruding out from his sleeve and jabbing me in the side of the head. Miraak eventually lifted his arm, inviting me to scooch under it-- to which I did. As soon as I got situated, he let his hand ease onto my shoulder. I was so flustered that I could barely breathe. It was suffocating, practically unbearable, yet I only felt myself nestling further into him. "You're really warm," I mumbled.

Oh, dear.

Why on Nirn did I say that? I sounded like a pervert!!! What if he thought I was creepy?! My heart dropped as he held me still and turned to look at me. "Y/n, how do you feel?" It was made to be a question, but it sounded more of a demand. I sat tense for a long while, lips parted yet unmoving. "About...?" I gulped when he slowly placed my hand flat against his chest. I could feel his heart throbbing at a rapid pace, as was mine. "Me."

Miraak's voice was low and sounded on edge. Perhaps he was more nervous than I thought he was? My next movements were reckless. Recklessness seemed to be my only sense of courage, right now. I carefully drew his hand towards me and slipped off his glove. He didn't stop me, however his muscles twitched under my touch. I stared at his pale skin for a long while. It was decorated with veins and had a scar stretched over his knuckles. Thanks to the protection of his gloves, his fingernails were in prestine condition. In short, his hands were utterly glorious.

I tilted my face down and pressed my lips against his scar, leaving him breathless. "Does that answer your question?" I asked Miraak with a flushed grin. Without responding, he brushed his thumb over my cheek and felt the entirety of my features. His hand was so calloused and smoothe! I cupped my own against it, keeping it there for as long as possible. Once again, I was pulled into another embrace, this one being much tighter and affectionate. Neither of us decided to speak, and somehow it felt more befitting that way.

With my head resting against Miraak's chest, I could hear his heartbeat quite clearly. It was much slower compared to earlier, more soothing than anything. He wasn't very sure where to place his hands, so he kept one firm on my waist and the other rubbing my hair. Sure, my face was hotter than a bonfire and there was still panic fresh on my mind. Then again, I also felt so calm in his arms. This may have been the first time in my life where I actually felt normal. Everything around me simply fell into place. It was selfish of me to inwardly beg for this moment to never end. As a dragonborn, I had my responsibilites, but for now I kicked those responsibilities aside. I had the right to be selfish every now and then.

"Maybe I should go diving into swamps more often," I teased, breaking through the comfortbale silence. I felt my heart flutter in the midst of him vibrating a soft chuckle. "That would certainly be an entertaining idea. Though I might not get the same reaction from you each time." I peered up at my new love interest with a quirked brow. "What kind of reaction?" In one swift motion, Miraak nudged up his mask to his nose and blessed me with a kiss. It was quick and simple, hardly lingering over my lips in time for me to process it. It was as if I had just imagined it!

Even so, the blush stained on my cheeks was already spreading to my ears. This man was a complete menace. His mask was already tipped back down, but the coy smile he was holding was evident. "You bastard," I hissed. He only shrugged his shoulders at me. "If you fall into the swamp again, I may even give you another kiss," Miraak jested. I proceeded to whack his bicep.

------------------------

I bet Miraak got those plump ass lips :^3

[skyrim-drabbles-n-stuff]

I really liked your Dragon Priest headcanons! Do you have any for the preferred mortal forms of the Daedra?

(Once again, I may use these references for future writing so I don’t have my readers doing the dirty with a giant mass of tentacles)

Hircine:

He’d chose to appear as a paler skinned nord man. Roughly 6’4 and muscled up like a beast with shoulders broad enough for an average sized adult to sit on. He’d have dark brown hair, stopping just past his shoulders with a beard similar in length, decorated with a couple golden cuffs despite his otherwise feral looking fur attire. His face and shoulders are littered in light brown freckles and he has lovely, somehow sweet puppy dog looking gold/amber-ish eyes. As far as war paint is concerned, he’d wear his exactly like Aela the Huntress, same color and everything. He also has a noticeably straight nose and a mouth of rather inhuman looking teeth. Nothing too extreme, just a couple sharper looking teeth towards the back. Despite having quite the warm smile, those puppy dog eyes of his hold a predatory glimmer to them no matter how hard he tries to hide it.

Azura:

She’d chose to appear as a rather beautiful, nord woman. With silky straight raven hair that flows well beyond her breasts, complementing high cheekbones and plump lips painted black, she’s quite the stunner actually not to mention she has a rather alluring curviness to her. Her eyes would only add to her beauty, one being an unnatural purple and the other a light blue (representing dusk and dawn) she’d stand roughly at 5’3 but make no mistake, she’ll kick your ass.

Sanguine, Sheogorath and Nocturnal:

They already have their preferred mortal apparences represented in game...

Meridia:

Although she choses to appear as an imperial strangely enough, you wouldn’t really be able to tell because the woman is practically albino. With Snow White skin, long silvery hair tied back into a French braid and purple eyes- let’s just say she has problems blending in. With a more lean, muscular build to her, she’d stand at 5’6. She somewhat has a more stern quality to her beauty, her lips usually pursed and naturally possessing straight eyebrows..she may not be the typical fairytale beauty you’d expect out of a practical goddess but she has a smile that has the ability to light up the whole village.

Namira:

Oddly enough she’d pick to choose the form of a wood elf woman standing at exactly 6’2 With long, shaggy dark auburn hair, bright yellow eyes and an almost sickly skinny form- she may not be the prettiest elf you’ll ever see. Her thin lips would be painted black to match the swirls of her war paint around her pointed eyes..strangely enough she also has..um, unsightly crooked teeth.

Jygglag:

Just like Merida, he has a hard time fitting in alright? Out of all the mortal forms he chose to pick to appear as a snow elf. As one could assume, he has bright snowy skin and short, perfectly groomed hair that matched in hue, paired with almost pink-ish looking slanted eyes. Though his features were unique, he definitely was quite handsome. With a strong jaw, defined cheekbones and a lean figure standing at 6’5.

Hermaeus Mora:

Much to his liking, it’s rather hard to determine the exact race of his mortal form. Seeing and knowing so much about each race, he choose to take quite a few attributes into the fabricating of mortal appearance. Strangely enough, he eventually just decides to favor his champion’s (miraak) appearance the most. So, he has the warm smile and “sculpted build” and is atmoran..but he is far too dark to be purely so, this concluding where him and the dragonborn’s similarities end. if one had to guess they’d likely say he was mixed with red guard, nord, atmoran and Breton..however no matter what, no one could quite pinpoint the origin of his inhuman glowing green eyes. He’d also have dark, unruly curly that reached just past his chin with stubble littering his face. Honestly, he’s quite pretty as well. Standing at a staggering 6’7 with a devious smirk seemingly forever shaping his angular features.

Mephala:

Despite what most would assume, she’d pick to appear as a Breton woman with long fiery red hair. Her eyes would purposefully be naturally wide and doe like with their stunning amber hue, all the better to lure in her “prey”. She’d be 5’10 and built rather lithe, save for her notably rounded hips.

Boethiah:

Of course, she’d choose to be a dunmer woman. Standing at 6’4 with muscles to put most nord women to shame, she is by no means an elf you’d want to fuck with. With raven hair pulled into a messy bun and narrow, stern red eyes and a very harsh look behind them. Most noticeably, she has quite a few ear piercings and a nasty gash on her chin.

Clavicus Vile:

He appears as a oddly kind looking imperial man with bronzed skin and mid length, wavy chocolate colored hair. He stands at 6’0 and has deep brown eyes that always seem to hold the slightest bit of mischief in them. More than that, he is never seen without his hound...strange.

Malacath:

Not much to say..big burly orc man with slightly larger tusks...

Molag Bol:

Another mix race, he chooses to appear as a very handsome half altmer, half nord with beautifully defined muscles and long golden blond hair. However his eyes also hold a predator like gaze, shining in the nighttime in a way that couldn’t be mortal. His chosen beauty is all a front though...he’s still a prick.

Peryite:

Choosing to appear as a Breton man, he’d be rather short..roughly 5’7 and he would be rather plump as well. However he wasn’t ugly by any means, save for a couple blemishes on his face. He has long brown hair, pulled back into a braided bun and a short beard and rounded greeneyes. The only other physical attribute worth mentioning is the sprinkle of freckles mimicking the scaled pattern of his preferred dragon form.

Vaermina:

Even weirder, she actually picks to represent herself as a inherently gorgeous nordic woman with gentle features. Plush pink lips and soft, round icy blue eyes coupled with an average stature of 5’6. She has shoulder length blonde hair and..a very..cruel grin.

[ms-katonic-of-tamriel]

Saw a fic tagged Lady Miraak/Lucien Flavius the other day. 

Oh my god.  That poor man.  He’ll be eaten alive.

OTOH Lady Miraak?? Have some courage and make it male Miraak.  Miraak’s bi as anything, he’ll take one look at this sheltered young Imperial desperate for knowledge of the Dragon Cult and... think things.

Bonus points for Very Sheltered Lucien at one point going “you know, if I were a girl, I’d be really nervous about now!  Because... because you’re a bit terrifying!” (Spoiler alert: Lucien Flavius is really nervous, and Miraak is grinning at him like a born predator.)

Miraak chuckles and tells him to report back for his first lesson the next day then goes off to track down the annoying but definitely Not Straight jester, also from Cyrodiil, because he has to ask, have the norms around same-sex relationships changed that much??

“No, no, only Cicero fears that Mr Flavius is... how can Cicero put this.  Sheltered.  Naive.  Barely twenty years old.  The only child of doting parents.  Has spent his entire existence in academic libraries.  Is likely untouched.  It is entirely possible he has managed to go his entire life blissfully unaware a relationship between two men is even possible.”

Miraak finds this hilarious and decides to have fun with that idea, and Dovahzul and history lessons are interwoven with VERY seductive body language, near-unmistakeable innuendo, getting Lucien all hot and bothered while not actually touching him then backing off immediately.  Eventually Lucien snaps and talks to Kaidan of all people, because he’s confused as all hell, because it’s weird, it’s wrong, he doesn’t understand it, if Miraak was a woman, he’d know it was flirting but Miraak’s a man, men don’t do that to other men, do they?

Kaidan the other bisexual facepalms, wants to know just how they ever let Lucien out on his own, tells him yes they do in fact do that, just as women often go out with other women, it’s perfectly normal and not remotely rare.  And yeah, Miraak’s seducing you.  Or trying to.  Do you need me to have a word with him, because First Dragonborn or no First Dragonborn, he doesn’t get to hassle you.

“No!  No?  I need to think about this.  A lot.  Oh Mara.”

Cicero is the next port of call.  Did you know about this, Cicero?  Men going out with other men?  Cicero stares at Lucien, puts down the anatomical diagram of pain nexuses that he’s been colouring in, looks at him long and hard and then bursts out laughing for a good minute before drying his eyes and nodding.  Yes, Flavius.  Yes, Cicero knew.  Cicero thought everybody knew.

“I didnt know!  Oh gods.  Miraak’s interested in me.  Oh gods.  Cicero, what do I do?”

“You are asking me for romantic advice??  Oh by Sithis... I don’t know!  Are you interested in him or not?”

“I don’t know!  He’s terrifying!”

“Good or bad terrifying?”

“Good... there’s a good terrifying??”

Cicero realises he now has to explain kink as well as queerness and wordlessly gets some books out of his personal collection. 

“Some people like having power removed from them and being rendered utterly helpless while a ruthless, ravishing brute does whatever they like with them.  Other people like taking helpless yet willing victims and having their way with them.  It does not surprise Cicero that Miraak is among them.”

“Which kind is he??”

“He just had five thousand years of Mora rendering him helpless, he’s either VERY keen on it or has had enough.  For you, boy?  Assume it’s the latter.”

Lucien whimpers.  Takes the books.  Runs.  Liriel gave Miraak’s mask to Dragonborn Gallery without hesitation and he’s been bare-faced ever since, with piercing blue eyes and long blonde hair and a smile that could tempt an Aedra to sin.  She let him keep the robes though, having had replicas made for her museum, the originals cleaned and mended, and then returned, and the First Dragonborn had been wearing those whenever Lucien had seen him.  Without the mask they were low-cut, to well below his collarbones, and while they weren’t tight-fitting, it was clear Miraak had muscles under there, and Lucien knew first-hand Miraak could fight with blade as well as magic.

Miraak was terrifying. That was a given.  But Lucien had to know for sure.

Next lesson, Lucien enters the safehouse, sees Miraak sitting by the fire, and Miraak only has to look to know something is wrong.  Different.  Lucien is staring at him and not coming any closer, and Miraak realises that after three and a half months, he’s finally fucking realised.

About time.  Now, what will the young seeker after knowledge do about it.

Silence and it is Miraak who breaks it.

“Is something wrong, goraan?”

“No - yes - have you been flirting with me??”

Bless him, his young student has finally graduated.

“You have finally noticed!  Well done, goraan.  Yes, I have been... how does Tamrielic put it.  Pushing my luck.  Nudging at the boundaries.  Wondering which will fall first.  Note I have not laid a finger on you.  Merely left suggestions in the air.  And despite becoming ever more blatant, you still come back for more.  Why is that, goraani?”

Oh gods, he’s changed to the possessive tense.

“I’m not your... I’m leaving. Right now!  I’m not coming back!  I’m not paying for Dovahzul lessons in sex!”

Surprise on Miraak’s face.  “It was never the intent you should, goraani.  Ah, krosis.  I took advantage of your naivety.  It was wrong.  I apologise.  If you wish to stop the lessons, I understand.  But if not, I will continue - only I promise to behave this time.  You have my word as an Atmoran.”

Atmoran honour and the swearing of a vow were covered early on.  Lucien doesn’t entirely trust him, but at length he sits down and the lessons resume.  Except they’re different.  Miraak is a respectful three feet away at all times.  No breathing down the back of his neck without quite touching.  No innuendo or purring or that damn smile.  Just Miraak being calm and professional and, and... Lucien hates it.  Hates every fucking second of it because walls have gone up, part of Miraak that was on display is now shut off, probably forever and Lucien... Lucien misses it.  Lucien misses the feeling of feeling scared out of his wits but safe at the same time because Miraak wouldn’t really...  Miraak apparently would.  If Lucien asked him.  Lucien does not know how to ask.  Or what to ask for.  But Miraak behind him, trailing a finger down the back of his neck, Miraak’s chest on his back and his arms round his waist... With arms like that, Miraak probably gives really good cuddles.

“Goraan.  You are clearly not paying attention.  If your mind is elsewhere, you are welcome to discontinue until it returns?”

“No!” Lucien gasps. Raised eyebrow from Miraak who wants to know where exactly his thoughts are flying if they are not here, and Lucien can take it no more.

“You. Utter. Bastard!”

Miraak doesn’t even look shocked.  “I am, yes.  Which of my many sins are you referring to?”

“You can’t just... you can’t just do this to me!  You can’t just spend months being all up close and personal and then just... just switch it off like it meant nothing!”

Strange look on Miraak’s face.  “Krosis, Lucien.  I was under the impression my attentions were unwelcome and you wished me to stop.”

“No!  Oh gods.  No.  You utter, utter bastard, I hate you so much, please don’t stop.”

Silence, Lucien’s face going bright red as he realises what’s just come out of his mouth, and he can barely look at Miraak.  Then the chair creaks, Miraak’s footsteps are on the stone floor and then gauntlets are removed, hit the table, and then Miraak’s hands are in his.

“Lokaaliin.  Is that your wish?  Truly?  For me not to?”

Miraak’s voice is gentler than Lucien has ever heard it and he finally looks Miraak in the eye to see the softest smile, one he’d not thought the man capable of, and Miraak’s reaching up to stroke his cheek, cupping his face and Lucien can’t stop himself leaning into his touch. 

“I’m scared, Miraak.”

“It is all right to be.  I have... not had a lover in a long time.  But I have not forgotten how to give pleasure.  I will give it to you if you ask.”

“I don’t even know how to - I’ve never had one!  Oh gods.”

Miraak just smiles and kisses his hand.  “It is all right.  I will take care of you.  It is your wish to move our lessons to a more intimate footing?”

Lucien nods, because Miraak makes him flushed and breathless and eager for... he doesn't even know what for.  Miraak takes him by the hand and leads him to the bedroom upstairs, promising nothing below the waist will happen yet, they can just talk and cuddle, yes?

After all the frantic worrying, for it just to be that is a blessed, blessed relief.  Miraak sheds his circlet, outer layers, strips down to his trousers, kicks off his boots and lies down on the bed, arms open for Lucien and Lucien hesitantly takes off his outer coat and his own boots and goes into Miraak’s arms, and from the moment skin touches skin, it is safety, reassurance, a throbbing strength that allays his fears as Miraak pulls him into his arms and holds him tight, and it takes Lucien a moment to realise Miraak is shaking.

“Are you all right?”

“Krosis.  Yes.  I am well.  I just... I have had no one in my arms like this in millennia.  Ah, goraani, I’m sorry.  Be patient with me.”

Lucien hadn’t expected that.  For all he’d seen Miraak as the scary First Dragonborn, he’d not even realised there was still a human being in there with feelings and vulnerabilities.  That... was a lot less scary, or rather it was still scary in a different way. Goodness, what if he hurt Miraak?  He’d never even thought of it that way round before.  Well.  He’d just need to be gentle, wouldn’t he.  Just as Miraak was presently being with him. 

It would be a few weeks more before sex actually started to happen.  Rather more before they finally told other people they were seeing each other.  Round about the time Liriel takes them both in her party, Lucien’s swarmed by Falmer, and then Miraak promptly immolates them all so fiercely you can’t tell flesh from chitin any more and when all the foes are dead, is frantically checking Lucien over, healing his wounds and then holding him so tightly no one can miss what’s up. 

Liriel has strong words for Miraak, but sees Lucien leap to his defence and at length decides, what the hell, anyone to be a reforming influence on Miraak is a good thing, and Miraak does seem to genuinely care.  Still, she does promise that if he hurts Lucien, she’s coming after him.  Miraak just smiles.  He’d expect no less.

Not so very long after that, Lucien moved into the safehouse with Miraak, and then it turned out his father got him a lead to this Dwemer ruin on Solstheim of all places and who better to go and have a look with him than a Solstheimer?  That led to a whole series of adventures, including that one time Miraak nearly broke up with him for remantling the Dwemer-Daedra entity that had tried to kill Miraak and possess his corpse... but eventually Miraak forgave him.  Even if he decided that if Lucien now had a demon horse, he was getting one, and acquired a Storm Atronach in horse form as his mount.  At least it wasn’t tentacled.

[argisthebulwark]

Time Moves Slow - Brynjolf

sfw, gn reader (reader referred to as 'wife' once) Summary: After returning from Sovngarde the Dragonborn finds that a handful of hours for them has been years for those in Tamriel and reunites with their loved one. Others Linked: Vilkas, Farkas, Teldryn, Miraak, Cicero

Lanterns cast their welcoming glow as you slid through Riften's front gate. A breeze carried in the chill of early morning that cut through your armor. Picking up your pace you eased around a gaggle of guards stationed near the temple. You noted fresh flowers scattered around the graves, more tombstones than you remembered. You'd only been gone a couple of days, had there already been a bandit raid? Vines curled around the mausoleum, thorns catching at your cloak. You glared at the offending plant and fought to remember where they'd been before - you'd been through this entrance dozens of times and couldn't recall such an annoyance. You hadn't noticed the shadow trailing you. He stalked over the rooftops, always keeping you in his line of sight. He didn't recognize your armor and the easy way you made your way through his city unsettled him. He kept close, closer than he should but he refused to let you out of his sight. Scanning the nooks and crannies under the temple you were surprised not to spot any of the fresh recruits. There were only a few and they were learning quickly but they most not be out training tonight, the graveyard seemed suspiciously empty. Delvin was in for an earful about slacking off when you got to the Flagon. Still lost in thought you didn't notice your shadow closing in. He was stealthy, checking each footfall and cloaking his descent under the wind. You didn't hear the whisper of leather as he unsheathed his dagger, weren't aware of his presence until cool steel pressed to your throat. "Come to visit a loved one?" Brynjolf's smooth voice murmured close to your ear. Panic ratcheted up your heartrate when the blade bit into the grimy skin of your jaw. He never drew his blade unless it was dire. Something must've gone horribly wrong in your absence. "Bit late for that. Best jog on." "Bryn, what the fuck?" "You know my name, love?" The blade tilted your jaw up and you glared straight ahead. Brynjolf's gloved hand slid down your side to unlatch your sword. "Surprising. Still, you should wait 'til mornin' to come around here. Not the best side of town and all." "Brynjolf, please tell me what's going on." "We know each other?" You could hear the infuriating smile in his voice. His dagger didn't falter when your sword clattered across the ground. Saying your name only worsened the situation; his fingers tightened on the dagger, muscles visibly tensing. "Don't you dare mention my wife." His voice dripped with venom you'd never heard before. It was terrifying - Had you somehow come back to the wrong Brynjolf? "Bryn, I swear -" "If this is your idea of a joke it's not fucking funny." "Just look at me!" Strong hands whirled you around and the world seemed to pause. Brynjolf's eyes were dark, long hair casting shadows over his face. You caught sight of stubble dusting over his jaw that hadn't been there a few days prior. Lifting one hand you grazed his cheek, shocked at how different he felt. "How?" He whimpered and gods, you wished you had an answer. Frantically you brushed back his hair until the moonlight allowed you a clear look at his face. Creases had formed around his eyes and your thumb traced a visibly old scar you'd never seen. Brynjolf's hand raised to cover yours, green eyes seeking answers you didn't have. "I searched for you." He whispered and your heart broke. Fat tears rolled down your cheeks when Brynjolf met your gaze, every ounce of his heartbreak on display for you. "I looked everywhere, lass. I couldn't find you." "I'm so sorry, Bryn." You babbled through the tears because you saw it all; the dusting of grey in his long red hair, the new armor bearing old Shadowmarks. You'd been gone far longer than intended. "I thought I lost you." His words pierced like a knife to the chest. After all he'd lost he'd grieved you again. "I thought I lost you." "I'm home." You sobbed when he wrenched you to his chest. Stealth was forgotten when Brynjolf held you close, shared pain enveloping your reunion. "I'll never leave you again. I promise."

[qethnehzul]

Soft, uh anyone really. Go crazy and creative you funky gay

NSDKL bless. Throws dice at the screen to see who to pick

Okay it’s not a ship but. Dice demanded some past Miraak + Ahzidad shit--

--

The sound of Miraak slamming the doors behind him made Ahzidal nonchalantly lift his head from his writing despite how badly the deafening echo had hurt his ears. Ah. Miraak was in a bad mood today. Ahzidal leaned back from his documents, returning the quill to his inkwell before another outburst from Miraak inevitably cause his quill to slide off course and ruin hours of detailed work. 

Sure enough, Miraak stormed into Ahzidal’s private study, taking his mask off with violent force before almost throwing it onto one of the tables. He tossed himself down onto a pile of pelts that served as a sort of seat, running his hands down his face in frustration as he slouched back.

“I see you must be having a wonderful day, young Miraak,” Ahzidal mused, turning to idly lean back in his chair.

Miraak threw the older priest a glare for a moment, but Ahzidal’s leveled and somewhat cold stare reminded Miraak that he was not the person to pick a fight with. Miraak let out a frustrated sigh, running a hand back through his messy and tangled hair. “Yes. Wonderful is the word I would use.”

Ahzidal hummed, getting up out of his seat. Miraak could hear him shuffle around for something, and then the sound of a wood chair being pulled up behind him. “Sit.”

Miraak wasn’t going to argue. Reluctantly, Miraak pushed himself into sitting position, adjusting where he was so Ahzidal could get a proper grip of his hair. The old priest nimbly removed the length of ribbon that kept Miraak’s hair tied back and out of his face before he pushed Miraak to lean forward, starting at the bottom with a ivory comb to work on teasing the knots out of his long, wavy hair. Miraak should have expected as much, and now he was trapped into at least two hours of conversation with Ahzidal. More if Ahzidal was in the mood, or if Miraak’s hair was especially tangled - like it was today.

“I take it your conversation with Rahgot did not go particularly well,” Ahzidal spoke, gripping the hair above where he was working so he wouldn’t yank too hard on Miraak’s head.

“Of course not,” Miraak growled, glaring at the patterns of the woven carpet in front of him. “It never goes well.”

“I’m afraid the two of you see things on very different spectrum.”

Miraak narrowed his eyes. “Rahgot only sees what will make the most  number of people unhappy. If I recall, you don’t get along with him either.”

Ahzidal made no response to that. “Was he being stubborn? Or did he say something in particular?”

Miraak winced a bit as Ahzidal pulled particularly hard. “Are they not the same thing?” He snapped.

“He insulted you,” Ahzidal guessed blandly. 

Miraak’s lip curled back before he sighed. “He doubts me, still. And treats me like I’m still some simple junior priest. He does not think that i’m harsh enough on my followers, and that I have lost whatever touch I had.”

Ahzidal arched his brow a bit at that. “And do you agree with him?”

“Of course not!” Miraak snarled, trying to whip his head around to look at Ahzidal. Ahzidal grabbed his hair, yanking it back the other way. Miraak let out a yelp, but conceded to keeping his head straight again as Ahzidal returned to brushing his hair. Silence fell between the two of them, and Miraak could tell Ahzidal was fishing for more of a response. He never went quiet unless whatever previous answer Miraak had offered to him was unsatisfactory. Miraak crossed his legs, trying to find a way to prop his head up with his arms while resting his elbows on his knees that would still allow Ahzidal to work on his hair. Another sharp tug from the ivory comb warned Miraak that Ahzidal was losing his patience - the old wizard knew Miraak had more than that to his mind, and he was expecting an answer. Miraak swallowed, closing his eyes. “Maybe I am going soft.”

Ahzidal let up on the tugging. “Mm. Do you think you are?”

Miraak’s face scrunched a bit. “Maybe?” Wasn’t that what he just said?

Ahzidal kept his focus on the tangle of black hair, doing a surprisingly good job at keeping his ornate rings from catching any of Miraak’s hair as his thin fingers worked through the knots. “You doubt yourself. Rahgot’s words have struck a chord with you. You see a chance for his words to be true. Something you are doing makes you think that’s a possibility.”

Miraak swallowed, scratching uneasily at his beard for a moment. “...I just worry sometimes that... maybe it’s...” He trailed off, before his voice grew softer. “I don’t want being with Nonvul to make me soft.”

For a moment, Ahzidal’s brushing stopped. Miraak tensed, and it soon resumed. Ahzidal was quiet, and this time Miraak was afraid to press on. But, to his surprise, this time it seemed the pause was in Ahzidal’s own reflection. “There is nothing wrong with your affections, Miraak,” Ahzidal said simply, moving aside a section of hair that had been freed of knots. “That is not what makes you soft, or weak. Though I suppose Rahgot would not know that, even if he is the last one of us to have been married.”

Miraak snorted softly, reaching a hand down to play with the paw of a wolf pelt. “Nonvul just... Nonvul makes me feel soft. I know it works fine for him, but everyone expects me to be... something else.”

Ahzidal leaned back in his chair a bit, before slowly stopping again. Miraak furrowed his brow, looking back to Ahzidal.

The man looked down at the comb in his hand for a moment. “Frildal was... the greatest thing in my life,” the old priest said quietly. His gaze shifted to Miraak. “Our short few years together were something I killed thousands for. Don’t forget that.” He reached out and took Miraak’s hair again, returning to working the knots out.

Miraak’s lips drew into a thin line. “But Rahgot...”

Ahzidal suddenly pulled Miraak’s hair back sharply, dragging him back until Miraak could see Ahzidal. The wizard’s stare was... intense. “I do not blame you for your desire to keep this relationship hidden, but you are dragonborn, Miraak,” Ahzidal hissed. “You worry that what you want will cause any more ire than your entire existence does. Do not forget that they are all rats under your boot. I did not raise you to fear them, boy, nor did I raise you to grovel to their standards. Do you understand?”

Miraak grimaced, reaching back to grab his hair to relieve some of the pressure before trying to nod without pulling on his hair more.

Ahzidal released hold of him, letting Miraak lean forward again. “Let Rahgot think you’re soft all he’d like. What difference does it make to you?” Ahzidal went back to rather furiously combing the knots out of Miraak’s hair. “Take what is yours and when the time comes, he will be reminded of how wrong he is.”

[bougainvillea-and-saltwater]

hello! for the OC questions, how about #33 for both? how would Jia describe Miraak, and how would he describe her? 👀

🧡ask game🧡

OUGH, that was such an amazing twist to the original question, Lumi! Thank you for this! 🥰

Okay, I got somewhat crafty in this one... Concerning their respective appearance [which plays a role in their attraction but is a bit less significant and more superficial to them], I will give away some passages that are already written in TPATD.

Miraak for Jia:

Laat Dovahkiin’s beauty is far from conventional. Her large golden eyes, in contrast to her small nose and mouth, create asymmetrical facial features, and all that bushy red hair on her head makes her look somewhat like a fox. However, to Miraak’s eyes, she is—

—she is striking, luminous.

Like a late breeze of spring, foreboding summer’s arrival. 

Jia for Miraak:

With his long, stalactite-straight silver-white hair groomed, Diist Dovahkiin resembles winter itself: he is captivating, but cold. His complexion is still very pale, even paler than hers, a redhead person’s absence of melanic; nevertheless, Jia has a faint feeling that a fair degree of paleness might as well be his natural skin color. And as for his eyes, the spilled black ink in the sclerae is still present but scarcely faded—his pupils are yet buried by blackness, but she reflexively pictures the color of lightning, a stormy sky, and his eye-color forms all clear to her imagination.

Now, concerning how they perceive each other on an emotional level, I have thought of putting some song lyrics and a book quote respectively.

Miraak for Jia:

"I know not if fate would have us live as one

Or if by love's blind chance we've been bound

The wish I whispered, when it all began

Did it forge a love you might never have found?" (The Wolven Storm - The Witcher 3)

Jia for Miraak:

"I could recognize him by touch alone, by smell; I would know him blind, by the way his breaths came and his feet struck the earth. I would know him in death, at the end of the world. He is half of my soul, as the poets say." (Madeline Miller - The Song of Achilles)

[evil-is-relative]

OC Interview--Ysmir

Rules:

Choose an OC. 

Answer them as that OC. 

Tag 5 people to do the same!

Tagged by: @lothrilzul

Tagging:  @partyatsanguines, @qethnehzul, @alysername, @aliceliveson, @alaricathecat

1. What is your name?

Ysmir. I’m told it’s a man’s name, but I think “dragon of the North” transcends such things, don’t you?

2. Do you know why are you named that?

The Greybeards Named me. Where I grew up, earning a Name meant you were worth something, so I adopted it wholeheartedly. 

3. Are you single or taken?

I have two lovers, but I don’t consider myself “taken.” I don’t belong to anyone but myself.

4. Have any abilities or powers?

...I’m a Dragonborn. I kill dragons and absorb their power, which is mostly yelling at things, to be truthful.

5. Stop being a Mary Sue.

I’m afraid I’ve no idea what that means but your tone implies I should set you on fire.

6. What’s your eye color?

Violet. Yes, I know it’s unusual. I would have preferred blue or brown, to be honest.

7. How about your hair color?

Red. Apparently both my hair and eye color come from the Dunmer side of my family, and so look unusual on a human. Again, I would have preferred something less noticeable.

8. Have any family members?

Oh, yes! I have seven children, and I consider my housecarl, Lydia, and my friend Inigo to be family as well. As for my birth family...I have a sister still alive somewhere, I hope.

9. Oh? How about pets?

We have a little farm with chickens and a cow, Shags. I have a few horses, though I just lost my favorite, Jughead, to magical anomalies. My daughter Lucia has an Ice Wolf she calls Precious, and my son Blaise just brought home a pregnant husky from Fort Dawnguard. Isran is still insisting I pay for her.

10. That’s cool, I guess. Now tell me something you don’t like?

Being asked a plethora of random questions by a total stranger. You?

11. Do you have any activities/hobbies that you like to do?

I enjoy alchemy. I also get restless when I haven’t fought anything in a while, so I suppose I must enjoy that, too.

12. Have you ever hurt anyone in any way before?

...My destiny was literally killing things. Dragons in particular, but this country has a lot of bandits.

13. Ever… killed anyone before?

You don’t listen very well, do you?

14. What kind of animal are you?

Excuse me?

15. Name your worst habits?

Probably rushing into a situation without thinking things through. Everyone says I’m reckless.

16. Do you look up to anyone at all?

*grins* I’m pretty short in a land full of Nords. On a more serious note, I look up to Paarthurnax. He keeps working for a redemption I think he’s long earned, and doesn’t give up on it. I look up to a few people from my past, as well, but I don’t talk about them much.

17. Are you gay, straight or bisexual?

What on Nirn does that mean? *looks at list of definitions, raising eyebrows* You people have a lot of ways of describing things. I suppose I’d be a “heterosexual polyromantic.” I do not wish to place all my affections and needs on one person, just as I wouldn’t want them to put all their affections and needs on me if I wasn’t equipped to meet them.

18. Do you go to school?

I went to the College of Winterhold for a time, but left after I attained my mastery in Destruction and Conjuration.

19. Ever want to marry and have kids one day?

I have children already, thank you, and I’d rather avoid the concept of marriage altogether. 

20. Do you have any fangirls/fanboys?

I’ve met a few people who fawned on the idea of meeting a Dragonborn. I think I disappointed many of them by not being Nord enough. Otherwise, it’s mostly people trying to use me somehow.

21. What are you most afraid of?

Do you always ask strangers these questions? I’d very much like for my children to not have to deal with the Thalmor.

22. What do you usually wear?

*gestures to self* Mage robes. Light armor if I expect to face something especially challenging. 

23. What’s one food that tempts you?

Sweetrolls. Don’t they have that effect on everyone, though?

24. Am I annoying to you?

Very much.

25. Well, it’s still not over!

Joy.

26. What class are you (low/middle/high)?

I entered Skyrim in rags, but I’d be considered high class now. I’m a Thane in several Holds and own property in each of them. I don’t believe in flaunting it, though.

27. How many friends do you have?

Quite a few. Lydia, Serana, Inigo, and Aela are probably my closest ones, though. Farkas and Vilkas as well, though things are a bit awkward with Vilkas yet. I’m not sure he’ll ever forgive me for loving Miraak.

28. What are your thoughts on pie?

...It’s very efficient? Are we talking dessert pies, hand pies, meat pies? They’re sort of a staple of the diet here in Skyrim. Some I loath, some I’d eat several days a week. It really depends. 

29. Favorite drink?

I enjoy Colovian Brandy, but it’s difficult to come by.

30. What’s your favorite place?

I don’t really have one. The idea of a favorite place invokes a sense of peace and comfort, but I can find that in many places in many moments. I suppose, then, my favorite place would be wherever my family is.

31. Are you interested in anyone?

Currently, I’m with Miraak and Farkas.

32. That was a stupid question…

A bit, yes.

33. Would you rather swim in a lake or the ocean?

Are either of them actually warm?

34. What’s your type?

Of what?

35. Any fetishes?

I have been informed I have a “size kink.” I live in a land, however, where the average man is at least a head taller than me, so I don’t know what people expect me to do. Go court Rieklings?

36. Camping or outdoors?

Camping is outdoors. Are you on skooma?

[the-ebonarm]

Oc Interview: Valkrea

Rules:

1 Choose an OC.

2 Answer them as that OC.

3 Tag 5 people to do the same!

Tagged by: @themapleleafdiaries

Tagging: Idk who to tag adfasdf. If you want to do it, then you are tagged by me :>

1. What is your name?

Valkrea.

2. Do you know why are you named that?

My parents just liked that name.

3. Are you single or taken?

Married.

4. Have any abilities or powers?

Well, I am the Dragonborn. I can shout and do whatever else being a dragonborn entails. I am also a good archer. I have a smidge of restoration magic ability too. 

5. Stop being a Mary Sue.

You won’t be calling me that after I blast you off a mountain.

6. What’s your eye color?

Green with black sclera. 

7. How about your hair color?

Blonde.

8. Have any family members?

Odahviing, Paarthurnax, and both my parents.

9. Oh? How about pets?

Nah. Though sometimes I just get the urge to want to adopt the biggest, goofiest, and slobbery dog. I’d name it Horker. Don’t question me.

10. That’s cool, I guess. Now tell me something you don’t like?

Anyone who is very quick to judge by your appearance. I absolutely hate the Thalmor. Men who don’t respect a woman’s (or anyone’s) boundaries get their asses handed to them. The Silver-Bloods and Hermaeus Mora are shit too.

11. Do you have any activities/hobbies that you like to do?

I like to make wood carvings or my own arrows when I need to pass time. I love flying on Odahviing too. I practice my dovahzul and nordic sign language occasionally.

12. Have you ever hurt anyone in any way before?

Yeah. 

13. Ever… killed anyone before?

Also yeah. What is with these questions? What are you going to do? Call the guards?

14. What kind of animal are you?

Do I look like an animal to you? Are you another racist nord??

15. Name your worst habits?

I don’t think before I act. Everyone always tells me that at least. They also say that i’m very suspicious of everyone? 

16. Do you look up to anyone at all?

No?

17. Are you gay, straight or bisexual?

Bi.

18. Do you go to school?

Not really. I learned the basics from my parents and my grandfather (who did go to school back in Summerset Isles) taught me many other subjects. I joined the College of Winterhold later on after I was dragonborn but I don’t spend much time there.

19. Ever want to marry and have kids one day?

I have thought about kids but I am not sure it’s possible with everything going on in my life right now.

20. Do you have any fangirls/fanboys?

You mean like those utterly incompetent Miraak Cultists? I hope I don’t have any.

21. What are you most afraid of?

Losing Odahviing comes to mind.

22. What do you usually wear?

Whatever I want. I do like dressing in lighter outfits more often. I only wear heavier things like armor if I need to.

23. What’s one food that tempts you?

a good meaty stew...

24. Am I annoying to you?

Yes, who has time to be asking all these questions? I am only here because my friends insisted.

25. Well, it’s still not over!

I am this close to wanting to blast you off a mountain.

26. What class are you (low/middle/high)?

I suppose I am middle class.

27. How many friends do you have?

I can only count them on one hand.

28. What are your thoughts on pie?

I better be compensated in pie for these questions.  

29. Favorite drink?

I don’t have it very often but I do love coffee.

30. What’s your favorite place?

High Hrothgar.

31. Are you interested in anyone?

I’m married.

32. That was a stupid question…

Very stupid.

33. Would you rather swim in a lake or the ocean?

Lake.

34. What’s your type?

I have never particularly had a type but I do like bigger and taller than me.

35. Any fetishes?

You know what? We are done here. I will blast you off a mountain if you ask me that again.

36. Camping or outdoors?

Both?

[ziikozorox-blog]

Ylena Profile

Basics

Name (& pronunciation): Ylena (YUH-lehna) Date of Birth (& age): 17th Sun’s Height, 4E 183 (currently 22) Place of Birth: Family home North of Ivarstead, the Rift Gender: F Species/Racial Origin: Primarily Nord, Half Elf / Nord Mother, Altmer Father

Family/Friends/Pets/Etc: Mother - Mathilde, Father - Saturnil, Best Friend Forever - Uthgerd the Unbroken (who she met after she began her adventures)

Physical Description

Height: 6′ 4″ (she’s so tall, it’s awesome) Hair: Light Blonde, long enough that it almost brushes her waist Eyes: Blue, almond shaped

Detailed Physical Description: Tall, thin frame that has bulked up since her adventuring days began. Her thin heart-shaped face has a very strong, narrow jaw, high cheekbones, a straight nose, and some slightly pointed ears that betray her Altmer heritage more so than her other angular features.

Typical Clothing/Equipment: Before her adventures, Ylena’s casual wear was a long belted dress, comfortable for walking around the homestead. When she is passing through a town, casual wear is usually the shirt and trousers she wears under her armor with leather boots. When out in the wilds or on the roads, she sports her full plate armor.

Personality/Attributes

Personality/Attitude: At first, Ylena was a bit meek and prone to observing rather than participating. As she grew her abilities and got stronger, she began to assume the traits of the leader she wanted to be: confident, calm, and wise. 

Skills/Talents: Greater skills include Heavy Armor, Greatswords, Restoration, Smithing, and the Thu’um. Lesser skills are Alchemy, Destruction, Speech, and Lockpicking (gotta get those dungeon chests open somehow!) 

Favourites/Likes: She has an appreciation for well-made armor, greatswords, honesty, honor, blue and gold colored things, feeling powerful, apples, a warm fire, history, justice, home, and  adventuring.

Most Hated/Dislikes: Ylena intensely dislikes Daedra, bigotry, irresponsibility, dishonesty, espionage, politics, laziness, abuse of power, arrogance, getting lost, and broken lockpicks.

Goals/Ambitions: Early in her adventures, all she wanted was to return home to her parents and later practice medicine in the Rift or in one of the temples. Eventually this morphed into a desire to protect her home, her friends, and the Empire, and be the kind of hero she read about in her history and fable books. 

Strengths: She’s dependable, loyal, honest, and generous. She has moments of cleverness and strives to always better herself.

Weaknesses: She’s naive, anxious, and can freeze in a situation where she is caught off guard. She can also be selfish and a bit rash.

Fears: Losing her parents, her friends, and her home, not being accepted into the communities she’s a part of, being weak or losing her powers, vampires, and the greatness of her destiny.

Hobbies/Interests: Ylena enjoys creating things, especially new armor and swords for herself. She loves reading the different books she finds across her adventures, and has a collection at every inn that she stays overnight. She also enjoys the occasional sparring session to keep her skills up, and sometimes she likes to go exploring in the wilds, completely solitary, as she used to do in her childhood. 

Philosophy of Life: She is thankful that the divines have given her a chance to live and learn, and shows this as devotion and worship. Because of this excitement for life, she tries to take the time to explore and observe her surroundings, and learn as much about them as she can. Over the course of her adventures, she turns her thoughts inward and on her place in life and existence, why the divines chose her, and how much of an impact on the future her destiny has.

Attitude Toward Death:  She despises the fact that it will inevitably take the people she loves from her. She would secretly love to find a way to prevent it, but knows the costs to herself would not be worth the result. She tries to keep herself prepared for her inevitable losses, but has a difficult time making peace. At times she chooses to willfully ignore the possibility of death. As for death and herself, there are times (especially when she is struck with grief or high amounts of stress) that she wishes it could relieve her of her responsibilities as Dragonborn, but knows that she would fight tooth and nail for life if actually threatened with death. 

Religion/Beliefs: A devout believer in the Eight Divines, Ylena questions her belief about Talos until realizing she is Dragonborn. She then begins to tentatively ask for guidance at his shrines. She regularly leaves offerings at the shrines of the Divines, and prays for guidance in times of trouble.

Most Instructive/Painful/Memorable Experience: During the Siege of Whiterun, Uthgerd is killed by a stray Stormcloak arrow. At this point, Uthgerd had been Ylena’s best friend and constant companion for a little over three years. Ylena is absolutely crushed, devastated by the loss of Uthgerd and begins severely questioning herself. She doubts her strength, her legitamacy as Skyrim’s protector; she doubts whether she is actually capable of defeating Alduin if she can’t even protect her own friend, and considers giving it all up. After a a few revelations, Ylena comes to the conclusion that if she wants to honor Uthgerd to the best of her ability, she must remember that Uthgerd, as a woman of action, would want her to continue the mission that they set out on rather than wallow in guilt and sorrow. Because she desires to honor Uthgerd by continuing to push forward with her mission and choose action over her feelings, she ultimately denies herself the proper time to grieve which results in Ylena becoming a more volatile, jaded person. The pain of Uthgerd’s loss drastically changes Ylena as a person, and not entirely for the better.

Sexual Preference/Experience/Values: No experience. She’s had passing crushes but has never acted on them. When she meets Miraak, there’s definitely an attraction that springs up, but she hasn’t really figured of the type of attraction it is yet. (Honestly, she borders on the ace spectrum but I’m hesitant to label her at this time.)

Education/Special Training: Ylena knows how to read and write. Her parents would occasionally give her history books and fables as she grew more interested in reading. She grew up learning both medicinal alchemy/restoration magic from her father, and a bit about smithing from her mother. 

Place/Type of Residence: She is a bit of a nomad during her travels and refuses to purchase property in any of the cities she travels to, her familial home outside of Ivarstead being the only place she considers home. The home sits on a large property that Ylena spent countless hours exploring in her youth. The main homestead is big enough to contain all of the workshops her parents needed to practice their livelihoods and support a small farming and animal-raising situation, though they get most of their food from Ivarstead itself. The house is modest, but the main living spaces have just enough space to be cozy and not cramped.

Memberships: She is a thane in every Hold in Skyrim, Harbinger of the Companions, a member of the Dawnguard, a Legate in the Imperial Army, and pseudo-Greybeard. 

Sourced from Mirintala on DA