#mercer frey

[gimmiebackmysweetroll]

[nauteno]

Day2. secret or and golden / Mercer Frey&Skeleton Key(TES:V)

@tes-summer-fest

You can't hide any secrets and coins from him🤔

[elderscrollsconceptart]

"Statue of the Snow Prince" - Note the statues facial similarity to the "degenerated" appearance of Falmer as opposed to the traditionally handsome depiction we see of the Snow Prince statue in TES V.

Concept art for The Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim

Art by Adam Adamowicz

[argisthebulwark]

Hey.... You Up?

summary: sending a 'you up?' text at midnight is totally innocent, right? smau gn reader, no gendered pronouns or y/n used feat: Miraak, Brynjolf, Mercer, Teldryn, Vilkas, Farkas warnings: suggestive & explicit sexual references, minors should not read or interact masterlist

[mukuuji]

I found an exciting drawing game on X and gave it a try! It was really fun!!!😂

"My Likings Panel Trap!" (the original title is 性癖パネルトラップ)

1. Make a secret list of your favorite things and assign each a number.

2. Let your friends choose a number and suggest a character.

3. Draw the character based on their choice.

4. Have fun with it and bask in the joy!

Here's the game's original post:

https://x.com/live_unyanya/status/1597261523940167680?s=61&t=q90daoNt-FGQyHW6tSap-w

[skyrim-forever]

[nerevar-quote-and-star]

Vex: I really like this whole "good guy, bad guy" thing you guys have going on.

Mercer Frey: It’s not an act, it’s just that I’m mean and Brynjolf isn’t.

[vinndas]

guy invented cringefail

[elderscrollsconfessions]

Confession: I hate the Thieves Guild in Skyrim. Every member is either an absolute asshole, or a sex pest. I have no idea how they're the most popular faction and I judge everyone who likes them in any way that isn't "it's a good questline". I would tap Mercer Frey though

[thelavenderelf]

Forever dying over the fact that Brynjolf goes looking for you after Mercer supposedly "kills" you. Like, the most important thing to Brynjolf is obviously the guild, right? So, by default, he's loyal to the guild master, so why does he of all people distrust Mercer when he says the dragonborn is dead????? Well, lil ol' dragonborn comes stumbling along and flips his world upside down by showing him there's hope for reviving the thing he loves the most. Dragonborn does everything they can to help the guild, then gets "killed" by Mercer when they get too close to the truth of why the guild is really struggling. Like, I really wonder what Mercer said to the guild after returning from Snow Veil Sanctum that made Brynjolf question his loyalty to him.

[nazumorim]

happy halloween

[nauteno]

My last weekends mood and doodles📝😠

[simonskizm]

Two of my least favorite video game characters. Why are they twinnin'??

They literally look so much alike and it pisses me off twice as much as it should.

[argisthebulwark]

My Best Friend, My One & Only

summary: how they propose <3 gn reader, no gendered pronouns or y/n used. feat: Farkas, Teldryn, Miraak, Brynjolf, Balimund, Mercer, Vilkas warnings: non explicit mentions of battle/injury a/n: yes I know this isn't how proposals work in the elder scrolls, I know about the amulets, rings are just more romantic to me masterlist

Farkas does it in the middle of a difficult battle. When you're back to back, weapons bloodied and muscles beyond exhausted and the enemies are circling closer. "If we make it out of this," Farkas pants, back flexing as he readies his sword once more. "Will you marry me?" "What?" "C'mon, if we're both alive tomorrow we'll get married. Deal?" "Alright, deal." You gulp, rallying whatever shred of strength you have left. An arrow lodges itself near your feet and you're lost again, hacking and slashing through the seemingly endless waves of bandits. It isn't difficult to keep track of Farkas on the battlefield - his stature and the roar of his victorious laugh calm your worries about losing him. Once only the two of you remain standing, you turn to him. Through the mud and viscera Farkas is grinning as he approaches you, chest heaving with each deep breath. "We both lived." He brags, one messy hand scrounging in his pockets. Your heart flips when he produces a stunning ring in his outstretched palm and offers it to you. "I didn't think you were serious." You breathe, plucking it from his hand despite the screaming of your muscles. Holding it up you marvel at the silvery moonlight glimmering on its beautiful stones. "I wouldn't joke about this." The ring fits so easily onto your finger. Farkas presses shameless kisses on your hand and up your arm, clearly so excited to see his ring on your finger. You can hardly believe that this is real, this isn't a dream.

Teldryn has never really brought up marriage, so the hypothetical catches you off guard - would you ever want to get married? Coming from a relatively large family it had once been the expectation but after the years of dealing with dragons and wars it's become less of a priority. "Yeah, I suppose I would." "You suppose?" "Well, you never bring it up so I haven't given it too much thought." "I ever said to me, specifically." There's a glimmer of humor in his eyes but you can't bring yourself to play into it. Something about this conversation feels heavy, like it's more important than some silly banter. "I wouldn't consider it with anyone else." Teldryn sighs and flips a coin your way. You scramble to catch it, glaring over at him when he begins to wander away. Prepared to ask why in the hells he would throw a septim your way you stare down at your hand. Sitting there in the palm of your tattered glove is the most beautiful ring you've ever seen. Small pale stones glitter around one dark gem placed in the center, all held together with sturdy metal. That bastard has the audacity to propose to you so casually? To toss this gorgeous ring at you, risk it falling into the dirt, and stroll off as if he hadn't just offered you something so beautiful? "What d'ya think?" Teldryn smirks, glancing over his shoulder. You want to berate him for his nonchalant tone but you've lost all words, tears springing into your eyes at the realization. Teldryn's offering you a future together, a promise that he won't leave. Placing that ring on your finger, you know that it's all you want.

Miraak doesn't. He began referring to you as his spouse ages ago. You've been his partner for so long it's an easy rhythm to fall into. Everyone else simply accepts that you're married and you're comfortable with it - saves you the trouble of planning a wedding. You know that Miraak isn't going anywhere and neither are you. After lifetimes together, you feel that traditional wedding ceremonies can't capture the depth and love that have been crafted between you. Miraak is your future and your past, and when he whispers that you are his entire world you know that it is true. "So," some lordling pipes up, drawing everyone's attention. Thanes and Jarls mill about the room and Miraak rolls his eyes, still unsure why you insist on maintaining relationships with them. "Yes?" You respond, rubbing a soothing hand over Miraak's arm. You take a sip of your drink and ready yourself for whatever political nonsense they have to offer now. "We've heard so many stories about you two - how did Miraak propose to you?" Wine practically shoots out of your nose. You snort, grabbing onto Miraak's coat and fight the laughter bubbling up at his expression. Your beloved husband is looking especially pale when he wipes absently at your face. "Well," he stalls and oh, it is delightfully entertaining. Miraak, always so eloquent, at a loss for words? It's a rare sight, even you have hardly seen it. "I may have skipped a few steps." "There's still time." You snicker playfully, fixing the lapel of his coat. He sends you a cutting glare, though it hasn't scared you for ages.

Brynjolf wants to keep it lowkey. He never thought he'd make it this far, not bothering for decades to imagine anything for himself outside of the Guild. When you're seated atop a manor, packs full and enjoying your last night before the long carriage ride home, he slides the ring toward you. "Did you steal this?" You question, totally ignorant of the furious blush in his face. Examining the ring in the moonlight is difficult but you're impressed, a simple and stunning piece. One deep green gem is framed with gentle swirls of metal, so unlike the terribly gaudy pieces you're used to pocketing. "Usually these lords have awful taste but this is beautiful, Bryn." "Glad you like it." He sounds a bit off, almost nervous. You scour the streets below but can't make out any guards. "It looks expensive, I bet Tonilia can fetch a good price." "No." "No?" Your brows tighten, that strained tone of his voice sets your nerves on edge. "It's for you." The situation punches you in the gut. Brynjolf, usually so calm and collected, looks nearly ready to launch himself off the roof. The gorgeous ring sitting in your hand, the ring that's for you. "Are you asking me to marry you?" Your fingers quiver when Brynjolf finally meets your gaze. "That depends on how you're plannin' to answer." His nervous laugh is so endearing. How could he possibly think you would refuse him? "Well, we live and work together, we've discussed spending our lives together, and all the recruits think we're already married." You squeeze his chilly fingers, surprised at how scared he is. "Of course I want to marry you, Bryn." "Oh, thank god - please don't fence that, love. Cost me a fortune."

Balimund works with Madesi for ages to forge a ring just for you. He's known for years that he intends to spend his life with you, there's no need to rush this step. The pair craft a ring to Balimund's exact specifications, priding himself on knowing exactly what you like. He chooses one of the nights you treasure the most - a quiet night at home together. No couriers pounding down the door or Jarls demanding your presence, just a night at home. You notice Balimund planting extra kisses to your shoulder while you cook dinner together and gazing at you across the table until you're certain there's something stuck in your teeth. Curled up on the couch together, your heart feels so full it hurts. Balimund's heavy arm rests around your shoulders, calloused fingers trailing over your skin as gentle kisses press to the crown of your head. You notice the uptick in his heartbeat where you're pressed to his chest and snuggle closer. "You alright, dearest?" You yawn, glancing up at him. Balimund finds himself struck by the sight of you; eyes soft and tired after a lazy day together, that gentle smile on your face he loves so dearly. He swears he falls in love with you all over again in this one moment. "I want this for the rest of my life." He mumbles, grasping the little box in his pocket. He's been fussing with it all night, gathering all his courage over the course of the evening but suddenly it's all gone. When he feels your hand cup his face Balimund gulps and draws the box out. "Me too, love." "Yeah?" He thumbs open the box, nervously presenting you when the fruit of his labor. Perfectly polished metal bears three sparkling gems. They aren't large or especially impressive but he recalls the way your eyes lit up when you'd seen each of them in his chest of supplies. "Balimund, please tell me you're proposing." "'Course I am, dearest." "Oh thank the gods."

Mercer doesn't. He's already gotten far too close, he can't let you creep any further into his heart. Occasionally when you're tucked into bed at his side, legs tangled together and all worries banished, you smile up at him and he sees an entire future. And gods, he hates it. Boring days spent together in the Cistern and weeks on the road to some high profile job. His family's ring sparkling on your finger and your lips on his skin. Watching grey creep into your hair and retiring in some fancy manor not too far from Riften, somewhere you can watch the leaves turn that shade of orange that lifts your spirits. Marriage, family, a real life together... he hates the thought of it. He's in too deep and there's no going back. His stomach always turns when he catches glimpses of that potential life he could have with you because for one desperate moment he wants it. He wants to forget about all the bullshit he's spent his life building up, the Guild, the Eyes, everything to live that life with you. But he can't. Mercer wishes he didn't make your smile falter in these moments when he wants you so badly. He clutches you a little closer, pressing a kiss to your forehead in a silent apology for the heartbreak he'll surely dump on you someday. He knows he'll only break your heart, the longer he puts it off the worse it gets, but he can't bring himself to give you up. "Love you." Guilt spikes at his heart each time you yawn those damning words into his chest. Your skin is so lovely and warm when an arm wraps around his waist. I love you. He chokes on those words he can't say, choosing instead to kiss your head once more instead of damning himself further.

Vilkas knows that you'll say yes but fuck, he's still terrified. You're relaxing in the fancy inn, muscles loose from an afternoon of lazing in the hot springs. He's never been away from Jorrvaskr for so long without being on an assignment but tonight his nerves are entirely your fault. He's had it planned out for weeks. The many days spent relaxing far from the worries of your everyday life have lead up to this evening; a fancy dinner he's picked out every little component of, chilled drinks on the patio, and the ring. It sounds so easy in his mind but standing here in your rented cabin, he can't keep his hands from shaking. Thank the gods you help him with that last button. He'd only bought the jacket after you pointed out it would look nice on him, and when you smile up at him he can hardly breathe. "Are we running away?" You sigh, thumb tracing over his cheek. "Not if we plan on going back." He fumbles with the box in his pocket, stunned when you smile up at him. "There's no one else in the world I'd rather run away with. Even if it's just for a couple days." He isn't sure what he's thinking - the entire plan is forgotten when you're beaming up at him. Vilkas produces the ring, heart swelling at your words and the blatant love in your eyes when you gaze up at him. Suddenly his meticulously planned dinner seems far less romantic than what you'd said. "Vilkas," you pause, carefully reaching toward the little box. "What is this?" "Please marry me." He chokes out, all his fear and anxiety spiking when you thumb it open to glance at the ring. It's bewildering how just a few minutes can feel like hours but he endures it, choking back every nervous word until you respond. "Of course I'll marry you, Vilkas." Thank the gods you put him out of his misery. Vilkas feels numb when you launch yourself at him, arms around his shoulders and face buried in his neck. God, the world feels so wonderful right now. Vilkas holds you to his chest, relief slowly ridding him of those nerves until he's practically giddy - you've agreed to marry him.

[sweetpeauserboxes]

[id: a light green userbox with a pastel green border and pastel green text that reads “this user thinks mercer frey is a little bitch..” on the left is an image of Mercer Frey from Skyrim. /end id]