#skyrim headcanons

[mamadovie]

can we get some kaidan boyfriend headcanons please???

𐙚 . . . KAIDAN.

A N: I'm not sure if I did Kaidan on my old account. But I am willing to redo the BF / GF series on this account, tbh. But, yes. Kaidan is the best BF. ♡

A B O U T: You're delusional and spend your time imagining that Kaidan is your boyfriend! (Same)

W A R N I N G S: None!

Kaidan is a hesitant person, but he loves so hard.

At first he becomes distant, you've created a friendship but he's sort of losing it mentally so he distances until he feels better.

This could last a week, hours, minutes, whatever. So he can come across as very hot and cold at first.

He also becomes more wary on your health and well-being, often telling you off for nearly hurting yourself and has the tendency to jump in and take down an enemy that even looks a bit bigger than you are, its cute at times, annoying most of the time.

He knows that you are capable, he just doesn't want to lose you.

Kaidan is a gifter. especially homemade things. From charms and bracelets to silly things like rocks he found by the beaches that looked cool and if you keep them, his heart will quite literally burst from his chest.

He takes note of everything you like and speak on, to make sure to buy something you like, attempt to cook your favourite meal to even making sure to not speak on topics that are sensitive for you.

Kaidan is a perceptive man generally, for you he is all the more watchful.

His way of asking you out is either two things:

Confessing in a tavern while drunk out of his mindddd, he is sloshed and just spills it out, and rather loudly, too. You wait till morning to finish the conversation... Or at least when his hangover isn't so bad...

Or, in the middle of a heated argument. Most likely about your health and recklessness. You are so giving, always accepting to help others and it makes him angrier than it should, you should care more for yourself! So he slips it out and the argument is long forgotten.

Once dating he is sooo goofy.

Sexual innuendos go crazy, followed with a little giggle that contrasts massively with his deep voice.

He is very touchy, especially in private and just loves the feeling of your skin on his, he likes to know that you are with him and safe.

Kaidan is a secret romantic and will write little poems on scraps of paper and draw you and things you like messily with chalk and he'd love it if you ever did it back.

After a long time travelling, his favourite thing to do it just relax with his head against your chest, your hands running through his hair as you tell him stories before you met, even if he's heard of them before.

His whole life has been filled with him learning things the harsh way and he loves to listen to silly stories from you.

His life has become so much better since you entered it, and he wouldn't change that for the world, not even his past.

[bougainvillea-and-saltwater]

Headcanon: When the Last Dragonborn goes to Sovngarde and fights Alduin, during the very moment of their great battle, the Aurora Borealis and all the stars snuff out of the night sky of Skyrim. And when they finally kill him, there is a momentary burst of light in the sky, as if all the stars went supernova and Kyne's Lights burn brighter than they have ever been...👀

[cosmictyto]

Things Gabriella has Knitted (or Crocheted) for Everyone:

First, (nearly) everyone has gotten a pair of socks from her as a “welcome to the brotherhood” gift.

(In alphabetical order)

—

🐺 Arnbjorn: A bright red knitted sweater as a wedding present. He’s only worn it once. (He jokes that it's not his style but he secretly loves it. He doesn't want to ruin it on accident.)

—

🔪 Astrid: A black and red striped knitted cowl. As a wedding present. Also a matching pair of gloves.

—

🩸 Babette: A crocheted doll to better help her "innocent child" ruse + several knitted dresses in many colors. Gabriella loves trying out new patterns. And because Babette’s small, she doesn’t need as much yarn. Win win.

—

♥️ Cicero: Nothing. Though she was working on her “welcome to the sanctuary” socks for him before he attacked Astrid and Veezara.

—

☄️ Festus Krex: Black, knitted fingerless gloves (his hands get cold and stiff sometimes.) They look simple at first, but actually have a quite complex stitching pattern on them. Also a black scarf and hat (with string pom-pom.)

—

🦋 Nazir: some hard-soled slippers and a deep red tote bag (with black hand print artfully knitted in.)

—

🦎 Veezara: Bright, garish horn cozies. It was a gag gift. He loves them.

—

Bonus round

🐈‍⬛ Sajjah (OC:) A thick n’ chunky, mottled black & gray blanket (crocheted.) as well as a matching cowl + gloves set. They were working on a hat design but couldn’t figure out how it would work with her ears before the sanctuary was attacked.

[oblivions-dawn]

Senu's Serana Volkihar Headcanons

I was enabled. Hehe. You will regret this

♛ Serana is right-handed. For reference, Vigdis is left-handed. I don't know I think it's cute--

♛ Because of her vampirism, she's cold to the touch.

♛ Serana doesn't even know how old she is exactly, so she just guesses that she was locked up in Dimhollow for over a millennia. However, she was turned around the age of 27.

♛ And, because of all that time spent in Dimhollow and her vampirism, Serana cannot sleep, which makes her perfect for keeping an eye out for danger during the night. [Vigdis would never tell her she appreciates it]

♛ In game she has an elven dagger, but I personally [in my fanfiction] gave her an ebony one. She later obtains Mehrunes' Razor.

♛ Due to her deep involvement with Daedric cults, she's actually quite knowledgeable on all of the Princes and their artefacts.

♛ She finds the sound of ocean waves and the smell of the salty sea comforting. And also that old, musty, dusty library smell. Ancient pages in leatherbound books and such and so forth.

♛ Her handwriting is elegant and slanted. It was imperative that she had neat handwriting when growing up.

♛ Serana really enjoys painting. She's not very good at sketching or people; rather, she has an eye for dramatic landscapes.

♛ She's very interested in architecture. Living in a really cool castle has always given her appreciation for complex structures.

♛ She frequented the library at Volkihar Keep often. Most of the books in the library actually have handwritten notes and doodles in the margins, showing just how much time she spent reading books.

♛ As a Daughter of Coldharbour, her Vampire Lord form is unique to her, and therefore she and her mother are ranked above Harkon, who did not have to suffer the same ritual as them.

♛ Referring to the last bullet, Serana has been a Daughter of Coldharbour for over a millennia. She can never fully purge the vampirism from her body--thus, when she is cured, she can still cast vampiric-esque spells . . . and flecks of glowing persimmon are still persistent in her irises.

♛ Because of her mother, Serana is really good at alchemy, but she prefers to focus her skills and talents on necromancy--which she can, on occasion, be cocky about.

♛ Although the Volkihar Clan owns dogs, she's actually more of a cat person.

♛ As a vampire, she can't really eat. She can handle small pieces of meat, but otherwise her diet is purely blood-based until she's human again.

♛ Serana is capable of blushing--it's just a lot more subtle compared to a human. When she's cured, of course, her blush will be more noticeable.

♛ The Forgotten Vale was her favourite place to visit, followed closely by Ancestor Glade.

♛ As a free-spirited person, Serana was never interested in taking over the Volkihar Clan, or being in any kind of leadership role. She prefers the freedom of travelling across Tamriel and exploring the world.

♛ She's a lesbian. To me. I'm not sorry. Vampires have NEVER been heterosexual EVER. They have been GAY since their INCEPTION and I intend to keep it that way goddamnit

[vernfernn]

i don’t think i’ve ever told anyone this but like, during one of my first Skyrim play throughs, i was working up to build Lakeview manner. Lydia was my companion for the majority of the beginning, and she followed me around literally everywhere. holding all the materials i was hoarding, fighting my battles for me (i was new and inexperienced), and generally doing all the heavy work and getting literally no reward.

and when i say holding all my materials, i mean all my materials. all my good gems. my stone. clay. other miscellaneous ingots and bs i was never gonna look at nor use. countless dragon bones, scales, cast iron pots, ingredients and potions i “may need someday”.

she followed me everywhere, fought dragons, went missing when i ran from the dragons, disappeared when i started getting the hang of the game, and i never really bat an eye until i was at the half finished house and several dragons spawned in to attack me (i always fast traveled and that kind of triggered a dragon to always spawn whenever i got to the house) and was constantly screaming for her because i was low level and had no idea what i was doing.

“LYDIA WHERE DID YOUR SWORN TO CARRY MY BURDENS ASS GO IM GETTING FLAMED ALIVE IN FRONT OF A DEAD MUDCRAB!”

anyways

she also was there for when i became thane of falkreath and followed me when i painstakingly tried to figure out who i was supposed to do quests for to become thane.

i remember going into some sort of cave to find a journal for the priest of arkay only for it to be infested with the draugr (my sworn enemies at the time because they freaked me out) and she ended up getting locked out of the boss fight.

she got stuck behind a door while i sniped those idiots from a distance and somehow did not get spotted.

anyways, after building up all the wings for Lakeview (with spotty interior decor) we went to a mine so i could get a bunch of iron because i needed nails and hinges for my basement.

we finally get home and of course—a dragon decides to attack. again.

and i’m fighting for my life here, trying not to die and reload my quick save from literal hours ago.

and lydia thinks this is the perfect time to ask to be my steward.

with fire literally raining down from the heavens, burning my character alive, i hastily say yes without even realizing what she was asking for, and go into the offensive to put down this habanero lizard and steal its soul. classic hot girl shit.

she, me, and rayya (the housecarl you get when becoming thane of falkreath) fight this damn thing and kill it within literal minutes (i felt so proud of myself for not struggling during this fight.)

me later realizing i don’t have a follower behind me anymore when i fast travel to falkreath to buy more building materials for my house. the entire time i was wondering if Lydia glitched again (she got stuck behind a wall in ustengrav before and during that fetch quest for that one priest so i decided i would backtrack once i finished buying building materials to furnish my house.)

i teleport back to my house and almost immediately see lydia walk around like she owned the place. it was then i realized she wasn’t my follower anymore, and i assumed that my game had indeed glitched so i go up to her to see what the problem is or to recruit her again.

que lydias talk screen having the options to decorate my house when i talk to her, and i realize what happened. i immediately have second thoughts when i hear how happy she is about being my Steward and i feel guilty for wanting her as a follower again. so i just leave her there along with like 15k gold to furnish my house.

i also have a housecarl as mentioned before: rayya. and as i’m playing (and marrying some lass from riverwood for the money and literally nothing else because i was DESPERATE to have the house fully furnished.)

i eventually realized it was a bit odd that there where three women living in one house under one roof along side two kids and a husky and other small creature. (it was either a rat, bunny, or mud crab i do not remember.)

que me replaying this character a several more times and keeping up the tradition of having Lydia as a steward for Lakeview and Rayya as another household member but never adopt any kids or marry again because i’m now a master at scamming vendors in the game. plus the kids were annoying, and always ungrateful, and always asking for cash or gifts (none of which they were ever grateful for).

as the years progress i grow attached to my character and start creating a small story for him because we have a lot of history and i got attached.

i’m then wondering how i would explain Lydia and Rayya.

it hits me.

lesbians.

they’re married and employed by a really cool landlord who also happens to be the prophesied savior of the world.

they simply live out their years in a big house with the best scenery and local necromancer to keep them company. once tasked to follow and guard a guy who could yell really loud, now living out in the woods with an early retirement.

now in my head they are married and live in the big ass house with a cool husky, some chickens, a cow, carriage, horse, bard, and the occasional giant on its way to absolutely murder the chickens and cow whenever he stops by. classic cottagecore—warrior—lesbian story.

que me going through the house to see if there would be enough beds for everyone.

minus the one in the wing i used to create a primary bedroom, there’s another bed for two people upstairs. in my mind that bed is theirs and they’re married

lydia kept one of my amulets of mara my first play through when i agreed to let her be my steward (she kept a lot of my stuff, and i was unable to get it back because i felt too guilty taking the one thing she seemed to like). ((also i tried pickpocketing her but failed every single time)).

i grow genuinely attached to this idea and can never keep Lydia as a companion when it comes to getting my house furnished and feel a sense of pride when i’m reuniting her with her one true love.

anyways, that’s the story of how i came to love two completely unrelated characters and no one will understand my attachment to them. i love them so much and want them to be happy.

they’re married, idc

[thee-fool-of-hearts]

Random Cicero headcanon:

Cicero is actually very good at cooking. All his years living in solitude led him to experimenting at the cooking pot and discovering new recipes bc he got tired of eating basic bread and cheese over and over. His best dish? Homemade sweetrolls. You knew it was coming.

[fruitydraugr]

Miraak Combat Headcanons

As a disclaimer - all of these are going to be very canon divergent, and based almost exclusively off of my own logic and interpretation. To get a good baseline of the type of combat I describe here, I recommend watching some of Monty Oum's animations, as he is my biggest inspiration.

Weaponry

Something I personally noticed in my fight with Miraak is that he doesn't use his staff as often as I would expect him to, and instead relies on his magic first, and sword second. I also personally find his staff redundant for the combat style I expected him to have, and have thus removed it altogether. Replaced with a mandatory dodge roll. He can also wuld, of course.

As for his magic, I predominantly see him using lightning magic when I fight him, which I'll go on more about in the personality segment. I would usually say this goes hand in hand with his sword - magnetizing it and wielding it without his hands, electrifying it for more damage - but it doesn't seem to be a mortal metal.

Separation and individuality seem to be a big theme with Miraak, so I'm going to be keeping his magic, and his blade separate from one another.

There's a few ways this can be made interesting, but because I see Miraak as extremely lightweight, I'm effectively going to make it a cooler version of Skyrim's off-hand magic - he uses his blade with his right hand, and grabs, blocks, or punches with his left.

A few of his spells can be used to magnetize others' weaponry, even shields, and either disarm them or launch them back at his opponent, usually too fast for them to recognize what's happening.

Miraak is also extremely lightweight, as I mentioned before. He isn't the most agile, his bones are starting to hurt, but he's still faster and trickier than the average Dragon Priest. Predominantly relies on blocking, dodge rolls, or jumping back in order to avoid damage.

Personality

How someone fights has a big impact on their personality, and vice versa, at least from the way that I write.

I have a headcanon that the personality of a mage will determine what element they excel in - for this case, we'll be using Skyrim's three dominant elements. Fire, ice, and lightning.

Miraak is unreliable and unpredictable in his everyday life. He's not exactly what I would call loyal, either, no matter who it's to. But he's still remarkably smart, curious, and rather strong when it comes down to it.

Lightning magic fits the bill here almost perfectly. He would be well aware of the pros and cons of his element, and with all the time he's spent in Apocrypha, he has a masterful grasp on it. The unpredictability and inherent danger of lightning magic, despite it being amazing all the same, is perfect for Miraak.

As for his blade, it's distinctly damaged. Scratched, unpolished, poorly taken care of, and most likely ancient. The tip is still sharp, but I believe that's only because it isn't a mortal metal - it's a gift from Hermaeus Mora.

I personally feel this represents Miraak's exhaustion with being trapped, hatred of Hermaeus Mora, and, despite appearing otherwise on the surface, lack of care for himself.

Much of Solstheim's plot didn't feel like Miraak trying to take over the world, despite how it was portrayed. It felt very much like an escape mission, someone who was doing everything awful (don't get me wrong, Miraak did some horrible shit to put it lightly) in order to build his power and leave.

(I do firmly believe that Miraak did all these things to build his ego, again, don't get me wrong, and it was a wholly disgusting way to go about things. I still like to peer deeper into his personality, though.)

The only reason that Miraak carries Mora's sword with him now is because it reminds him of how far he's come. He sharpens the blade as an act of self care - he feels rather tied to the blade at this point, and doesn't feel right trying to take care of himself without taking care of something he owns.

Either way. Miraak wielding his blade is an indicator of anger, self-loathing, and exhaustion pre-escape, and of recovery and determination post-escape.

Style (And Examples)

So, how does this all culminate?

Miraak has an abnormal spellsword combat style, with his shouts adding some extra options.

I would personally describe it as rather defensive, but understand that this doesn't mean he's not trying to win. You can be aggressive without being on the offensive.

Much of his style relies on waiting for his opponent to approach, and then demolishing them with a combination of lightning spells, mostly AoE, and using his blade when they come too close. Struggles greatly with any form of ranger for this reason.

Some of his spells can cover a rather large area or offer passive damage - a thunderstorm, runes, cloak spells - and he readily uses this to his advantage. Much of his strategy revolves around making the environment inhospitable both for himself and his foe, relying on his armor and resistances to his own magic in order to minimize recoil.

This usually results in collateral damage, and a very ruined arena after the fight.

His swordsmanship has struggled in Apocrypha, but he's had enough time to practice. Has improper form when fighting, but utilizes his shouts or magic to circumvent this, not to mention that he swings very hard.

Miraak's blade is somewhat heavy, so he tends to get in a flurry of slashes before backing up, and reintroducing himself to the fight.

---

I think that's all I have for now, though, the Monster is wearing off :] Hope y'all like it!

[myhandsarentsmudgediusedigital]

Headcanon:

Hircine was also part of the old Nord pantheon. A god of hunting would fit right in with Nord culture, and that would give more reason for the Companions to give lycathronpy to members of the Circle as an honor.

He was brother of Kyne, and sometimes consort of Mara, and he would lend her his hounds to supplement her forces when she needed help. His totemic animal was his characteristic stag.

Worship of him started to fade when the idea of Aedra vs Daedra came along with the First Empire, but it was still kind of a thing up until the Oblivion Crisis, after which Daedra were looked upon with much more suspicion and hatred.

There only signs of his worship that remain are the lycanthropy of the Companions' Circle and a few alters in Falkreath.

Thank you for coming to my TED talk.

[fabeong]

Fuck it. Florentius Baenius headcanons:

There are too many thoughts about my Best Blorbo bouncing round my head so obviously I’m going to inflict them on the world. Even categorised for your pleasure!

Backstory:

- Florentius is from a small town in Cyrodill, a little way south of Bruma and the Skyrim border

- There’s a running joke in his family that the Baenius men never follow in their father’s footsteps. So Florentius’ father is a fletcher and woodworker, his grandfather was a stable hand, his great-grandfather was a steward and you get the picture

- His mother died when he was nine, and it was at her funeral that Florentius first heard a quiet voice call his name.  (I’ve actually got a whole story-hc in my head for how Arkay first spoke to Florentius, might actually write it some day)

- Florentius first met Isran when the latter was still a Vigilant of Stendarr. Florentius had gotten into trouble with some daedric cultists and was rescued by the Vigilants, in particular one who had even fewer qualms around killing enemies than normal... psst there’s already a fic mentioning this! 

Misc. headcanons:

- A lot of his confidence is a façade. Florentius knows full well most people think him insane at best or dangerous at worst, and even with an aedra on his side it does get to him. When someone believes him or even just treats him with respect and kindness, they’re instantly a best friend in his eyes.

- He is the type of alchemist who just eats random ingredients to see what they do. He has poisoned himself multiple times due to this, much to Arkay’s chagrin.

- His father nicknamed him “Ren” as a child, and still refuses to call him anything else

- Florentius gives the best hugs, and is incredible at comforting people. He insists it’s because of his job, that as a priest of Arkay of course he’s learnt how to help with grief, but the truth is he’s always known just what to say in a tough situation, when to just sit quietly and offer companionship, when to crack a joke to ease the mood, and when to offer words of encouragement.

- He prays every sunrise and sunset

- Florentius has technically “died” multiple times. In a few situations of complete desperation, Arkay has channelled some of his power through Florentius (kind of like a temporary mantling) to save him or others from an unbeatable foe, but the affect leaves Florentius lifeless for a few moments until Arkay sends his soul back. 

- ^^ This is where that killing-30-vampires story comes from. It’s technically true but Florentius can’t actually remember the details, hence why he says to ask Arkay

- He used to have long hair, but cut it off after a vampire used it to pull his head back and nearly bit him. Though he escaped the near-miss left him shaken and he shaved his head that day

- Florentius would never admit it, but he hates the tension that’s developed between him and Isran. In the old days they might have bickered or had intellectual differences, but it was their respective prides (and Isran’s growing vampire obsession) that ultimately damaged their friendship. Florentius just secretly hopes it’s not beyond repair.

[arr0w-ace]

I love this idea!

I've always thought it would be cool if the way the Dragon Aspect shout looked was unique to each Dragonborn. Like, it reflects their own individual soul or dragon or somethingon

[mamadovie]

𐙚 . . . CICERO.

A N: Hey, lovebugs. Not a request, just a silly little idea I came up with while listening to Stalker by Stevie Howie. As usual, gender neutral reader.

A B O U T: Cicero has always loved his dearest listener. But when does love become dangerous, and how far will Cicero go?

W A R N I N G S: Stalker and obsessive themes. Cicero is just an absolute freak!

There they are.

The sanctuary finally felt like home again. Their outfit: black, red, skintight, and stained with blood; it caused an ache in Cicero's stomach as he watched with heavy and dark eyes.

Oh, how he wished he could travel with you more often.

See the world with you.

By your side. Always.

His heart thumped at the mere thought of watching you, always, guiding you.

Needing you.

Oh, how he needed you. So bad.

Your voice, ragged and rough. Your blade is still wet. Your lips curled into a slow smile. You laughed, like music to his ears.

Wait.

You're smiling. Laughing. At him? The stupid Nord, the stupid initiate?

His fist balled up, his leg bobbed up and down in a violent manner as he watched from the shadows. Always in the shadows. Watching you. He had since the day you met. Since the day you smiled his way. Showed him kindness. You never joked about the jester. No, you liked him. You respected him. But you didn't love him, did you? Never poor old Cicero! Forever the fool.

You were so dumb! You. Are. His. His flamed hair framed his face as he ducked his head, eyes glaring with poison. He wanted to rip that bastards face off. Maybe he would wear it. Would you like him if he looked like Stupid Nord Man? Or would you hate him? For taking the man who made you laugh out of your life?

Why are you still laughing? By the Void. Get a grip. He's not that funny.

You touched his arm. Why won't you touch Cicero instead? He's softer. Cleaner. Smells nice, too! Cicero just... didn't understand. Why. Him. Why not the fool? Just once. Pick him.

Cicero had always loved you. Since the day you met. Actually, quite some time before that, too. He watched you that day in Whiterun. Oh, he felt so... Alive. Fresh into Skyrim and already in love? The Night Mother surely graced him with you for all the hard work he's ever done. You're a gift. His gift. Not that stupid man's. No. You're his.

And he'll make sure you'll never fall into the arms of a lesser person. Never. Cicero enjoys the kill. He's sure that the Night Mother would turn a blind eye... all in the name of true love!

[bougainvillea-and-saltwater]

So I have a Google Doc filled with The Elder Scrolls Headcanons(mostly my own headcanons but also other people's HCs that I like) and I was wondering if you had any HCs for any of the Elder Scrolls games? Feel free to ignore this ask, but I am curious! *can be about anything and everything lol. Or I guess anything specific like if you had any Miraak/Dragon Priest/Dragons HCs or something.*

Hello!!! I’m definitely not ignoring this, thank you so much for the ask!!! 💖

I’ve only played Skyrim out of the Elder Scrolls games (though I’d love to play more!), so my headcanons are mainly around Skyrim. I have many ideas concerning the Dragonborn and their power. I think that the Dragonborn has a limit on how much they can use the Voice (which makes sense game-wise, where we have a cooldown in between Shouts). If they surpass this threshold, for example, by Shouting repeatedly, the ‘simplest’ side effect they can get is to scrap or tear their vocal cords. The most serious is to have a stroke or a heart attack and die. It’s a divine power, loads of power, residing in a mortal body, after all, even if that body is the body of a Dragonborn. 

Another headcanon I’ve got is that the Dragonborn displays draconic features when they absorb dragon souls or experience intense emotions. Their eyes are blazing, their pupils turn into slits, serpent-like, their teeth may sharpen and elongate, their strength becomes inhuman (I can imagine them lifting a person twice their size in one hand), their senses become acute, their shade looks dragon-like under the sun with horns and wings and tail… They look Dangerous in a few words. 

And speaking of the sun! 

This is entirely a personal take, I don’t know if that’ll make sense, but I headcanon Akatosh to be quite connected with the sun (mostly because Auriel is, and Auriel and Akatosh are essentially the same thing). In my eyes, Akatosh is an Apollo type of God, very bright and very powerful and rather associated with divination since ‘nothing rests hidden under the sun’, as the saying goes. So, the Dragonborn, as a fragment of Akatosh, is also associated with sun/sunfire and/or divination powers. My LDB and Miraak are both seers of some sort! 

And speaking of Miraak! 

I headcanon that the Dragon Priests were hymning. Dragons are not only fond of tinvaak; they are also very fond of words that come out of the mouth with a lyrical tempo. It’s something strange to them, a completely unfamiliar thing to their ears, and it definitely fascinates them. Miraak, of course, wasn’t an exception, quite the contrary! Thanks to Peter Jessop and his magnificent voice, I headcanon Miraak to have the most gorgeous voice, so his psalms were the most frequently heard around the Dragon Cult. Many of Miraak’s songs were reflective and mournful, often referencing Atmora and his life prior to Dragon Cult. Maybe Pippin’s song from LotR ‘Edge of Night’ is close to the songs I have in mind for him!    

What else? Oh, another headcanon I’m quite proud of, and it was also very liked by my fellow TES fans when I posted it on Tumblr, is that the Dragonborn puts out the stars when they go to Sovngarde to kill Alduin. After Alduin’s successful death, the stars and all the celestial bodies went through a massive supernova, and the night was converted into a day as Kyne’s Lights burned brighter than they had ever been! (here’s the link to that post: https://www.tumblr.com/bougainvillea-and-saltwater/731190179534143488/headcanon-when-the-last-dragonborn-goes-to?source=share)

[cosmictyto]

Concept/headcanon - Cicero with Trichotillomania

(Is this self indulgent? Yes, yes it is. Am I doing this silly, minimally edited, free-writing exercise to keep myself from pulling? Yes, yes I am.)

Obligatory warnings since this mentions hair pulling, anxiety, obsessive & repetitive compulsions, balding, damage to the scalp, embarrassment from said balding, etc.

In this hypothetical o’ mine, this all flared up during his time in Cheydinhal. But, before that, I could see him being the kind of guy who’d run his hand through his hair or tug slightly as a self-soothing mechanism when stressed. His scalp is generally sensitive and he enjoys the feeling of someone touching it either by combing his hair or running their fingers through it.

The plucking didn’t start immediately. While, yes, he was upset to lose the Bruma sanctuary and his siblings, he could manage that. It was all the pressure that came after.

Other sanctuaries were being destroyed. The active listener was being threatened. He botched his contract. Their communications were cut off. The listener was dead. The Night Mother forced out of her crypt.

More and more.

He’s elected to be in this revered role. He also has to learn how to DO said role via old books and just kinda… have faith that he’s doing it right. Probably with the constant nagging feeling that the lack of any new listener might be his fault (since the NM’s corpse is her conduit to speak with mortals, and if she’s not taken care of properly her connection is severed.)

Even more pressure as the Cheydinhal sanctuary is crumbling around him. One by one the remaining members die and more and more pressure is put on Cicero. All the while he’s also fretting over why the NM won’t just speak to him instead.

With Garnag left MIA, Cicero is just left completely on his own. Stuck (presumably) underground and unable to really leave the sanctuary.

All the while, he’s been rubbing his scalp and tugging at his hair to just get even the slightest feeling of peace, pacing all throughout the halls waiting for Garnag to come back with supplies. Being overwhelmed with laughter. Until, one day, while rubbing his head he feels something off. A single hair with some odd texture. A wrong texture. He plucks it, feeling the sharp sting fade into a wave of soreness, pulls the strand taught between his fingers. Investigating it. His hair is normally smooth and silky. But this one wasn’t. Something… clicks.

It started with one… Then another, and another, and another.

If his hands weren’t busy preparing oils or tending to Mother, he was plucking. Sometimes he’d feel the length of the strand, other times he’d touch the root of the hair to his lips (something about the sensation was pleasant. Blissful even.) But as soon as he tossed the strand aside, his hands were back at his crown foraging for similar threads.

It became a pattern. A frantic rhythm. Pluck, feel, touch, toss. Over and over. His hands hasty and shaking slightly. Part of him knows that this isn’t right, but he. just. can’t. stop.

The halls of Cheydinhall are dusted with shed ginger strands from where Cicero would pluck as he paced, muttering and laughing to himself to fill the empty air. And as he ran out of “bad hairs” he started targeting the “good ones.” But, of course, it wasn’t the same. It didn’t scratch that same itch. And that was just as maddening as the silence. His plucking grew more and more intense and rough.

It eventually gets so bad that the crown of his head starts to bleed and scar. But, then the scabs give him something else to futz with.

Later, after he makes his jester outfit and sends out the letters to Astrid, he finally notices just how much damage he’s done.

There was only one mirror in Cheydinhal. In the liar Rasha’s room. So, he used it to get a good look at his new outfit. He’s dancing about, humming. And then he finally notices the massive bald spot, pale white and covered in maroon scabs, on the crown of his head.

The humming stops. His heart sinks. His stomach twists. The immediate wave of panic and shame stung at his eyes. What you were doing never fully clicks until you’re staring at the consequences of your compulsory actions head-on.

Instinctively, his hand claws its way through what little remaining hair he has left back there. And he pulls it back with a yelp, gripping his wrist with his other hand. His fingertips tingle with pressure as he forces himself to not try and pluck or pick. And something in his mind burns at the thought.

Before anything else happened, he grabbed his hat and pulled it taught against his head. Out of sight, out of mind. Like it never even happened. He still had enough hair on the rest of his head, so everything looked fine. He could feel the itching feeling fade as he tried to even his breathing and just… forget everything he just witnessed.

And it worked. As long as he kept the hat on, the habit was temporarily broken. Plus, he was so busy trying to move mother across the continent, there wasn’t any time to fret, or pace, or pluck.

He did have a slight flare-up with his eyebrows and eyelashes while on the long, long boat ride to Dawnstar. The rolling waves made him nervy and nauseous. And the very thought of his mother, stuck in the cargo hold, being constantly surrounded by ship crew made his skin crawl. He just couldn’t help himself. But, that never felt “as right” as it did with his head hairs.

Then, things got better. A new, true Listener was found. His life was spared. The pretenders who dishonored the name “Dark Brotherhood” felt the wrath of Sithis. And now, there was an opportunity to start anew!

Post-DB-questline, I imagine his plucking would slow down significantly. For the first time in a long while, things are stable. He’s not alone. Mother is happy and actively talking to someone. Things are looking up. He still falls into old habits here and there, since you never fully stop with these sorts of things, but he feels the urge way less. And when he catches himself doing it, he’ll try and redirect instead to something that needs both hands. There’s always something in the sanctuary that needs cleaning or mending. He’s even working on a new jester’s outfit (because it’s too damn cold in Dawnstar for his current one) and he’s doing all the embroidery work himself.

He did too much damage to his scalp, though. Some of the hair has grown back. But, it’s patchy and thin. Baby fuzz mixed with old, long strands. And, yeah, this is a sore spot of his. He knows it looks odd. He wears his hat almost 24/7 because he’s so self-conscious/embarrassed about it. It’s an unfortunate reminder of his lowest point. So, he tries to keep it covered and to not think about it. (And if you dare try to take his hat “as a joke” you’re dead. No warning, just stabbing.)

Maybe, just maybe, if you’re close enough with him he’d be fine taking the hat off. But that’ll take a lot of trust before you get to that point. And it’ll take even more than that before he’d even let you touch his head/hair. (However, when you get to that stage, he will 100% melt into a puddle of goo if you comb his hair.)

Anyway, if you got this far, thanks for reading! I only edited this lightly so apologies if anything’s worded weird or if there are any mistakes.

[oblivions-dawn]

The Man, the Priest, the Legend: Florentius Baenius

We don't talk about my guy Florentius enough and he doesn't have enough lore in game so FUCK IT. I gave him some because I don't know if I'll get to go over it in my fanfiction [specifically, the Great War stuff. Fingers crossed that I do, but in case I don't, that's what this post is for].

Yes I do in fact believe that his connection to Arkay is, in fact, real. Some of the shit he says is uncanny, and the other shit is downright scary. It isn't unheard of for Divines to speak to mortals [remember the quest where you save a little Karthwasten girl named Fjotra from Forsworn, only for her to become the new sybil of Dibella?], so it isn't too much of a stretch to say Arkay gives Florentius all the tea on everyone around him.

Florentius can train the player in Restoration, and he's the guy you go to for alchemy ingredients. He's a healer, and damn good at it. He's old enough--in my mind--to have served some time in The Great War, where he no doubt mastered these abilities and witnessed some truly awful and gruesome scenes. I imagine he got into the war after his fall out with Isran, which makes it extra painful [and I love painful]. He of course rejoined the Vigilants after, as he didn't know what else to do.

That being said, I don't think Arkay was ALWAYS with him. Rather, I think Arkay came to him after The Great War. Runil, the grave tender from Falkreath, turned to worshipping Arkay after the war on the side of the Thalmor. Florentius, then, most likely knows Runil, and perhaps they're even friends after sharing a similar experience.

Going back to Isran, they're ex-boyfriends. They have the chemistry! And I just can't ignore the 'goofy sunshine and grumpy asshole' trope and I love them being a bit of a parallel to Vigdis and Serana. Of course in my fanfiction they get back together because, well. I can. The way Isran is just so ANNOYED when you ask him about bringing Florentius to the fort is too funny. I love annoying the man whenever possible what can I say--

Anyway. Due to Florentius' knowledge in the healing arts AND his connection to Arkay, he's very capable of performing miracle-level bullshit if he's desperate enough. I won't spoil my fanfiction, but he does exactly that . . . with a bit of intervention from another Divine as well. [Someone really didn't want her to die.]

OH, and because of his experiences in The Great War, I think that's often why Florentius is . . . goofy. Funny. Sarcastic. It's how he copes with the trauma. When he is serious, the entire room seems to shift and it's just .. . so good. I don't know the voice actor's name, but serious props to him for accomplishing so much emotion just through voice. It's fantastic.

If you didn't want to read all of that: basically, Florentius is easily my second favourite NPC in Skyrim, if DLCs are included. EASILY. He's awesome and I love him.

[ryuzakemo128]

House of the Dragon & Skyrim Crossover Headcanons

Credit 4 Dividers: @cafekitsune + @strangergraphics

Note: Remake of the old version. More of Freyja to come if you want it. [Old Version]

Approximately twenty years before The House of Dragon begins, The Last Dragonborn, Freyja Raengyreon, comes into the world inside an egg of black obsidian scales. It is rumoured and believed her mother died either attempting to protect her from the mercenaries sent after them both by her father or that she passed from childbirth. Other tales spun with either rumour passed down through generations of Raengyreon daughters.

There is at least one dragon near her most of the time. Most of the time it's usually Odahviing. Other times it is either Mirmulnir, Durnehviir, or Paarthurnax.

Freyja's hair is a dark burgundy mixed with undertones of obsidian black and Auburn. Her eyes, a mix of violet blue and light grey with flecks of obsidian black. Her height of Six feet and Eleven inches tall. Often mistaken for a man because of her height, the way she carries herself and the deep guttural sound of her voice. It makes her the tallest of her sisters. She has a strong build, muscular yet feminine, and her skin is a pale, translucent white with an iridescent sheen.

Freyja is dragonborn meaning she has the blood of the dragon and the soul of a dragon as well. Making her a powerful warrior and mage.

Freyja loves forging things, so much so that she made a necklace for her eldest sister when she got married because nothing bought would suffice in her eyes. Her sister loved it so much that she decided she would wear it every day.

Freyja plays dumb among the ones who like to talk as if she was dumber because she's not male or had the same formal education.

Approximately twenty years before The House of Dragon begins, The Last Dragonborn, Freyja Raengyreon, comes into the world inside an egg of black obsidian scales. It is rumoured and believed her mother died either attempting to protect her from the mercenaries sent after them both by her father or that she passed from childbirth. Other tales spun with either rumour passed down through generations of Raengyreon daughters.

There is at least one dragon near her most of the time. Most of the time it's usually Odahviing. Other times it is either Mirmulnir, Durnehviir, or Paarthurnax.

Freyja's hair is a dark burgundy mixed with undertones of obsidian black and Auburn. Her eyes, a mix of violet blue and light grey with flecks of obsidian black. Her height of Six feet and Eleven inches tall. Often mistaken for a man because of her height, the way she carries herself and the deep guttural sound of her voice. It makes her the tallest of her sisters. She has a strong build, muscular yet feminine, and her skin is a pale, translucent white with an iridescent sheen.

Freyja is dragonborn meaning she has the blood of the dragon and the soul of a dragon as well. Making her a powerful warrior and mage.

Freyja loves forging things, so much so that she made a necklace for her eldest sister when she got married because nothing bought would suffice in her eyes. Her sister loved it so much that she decided she would wear it every day.

Freyja plays dumb among the ones who like to talk as if she was dumber because she's not male or had the same formal education.

"Due to my experience and your lack of experience. I can comfortably say that doesn't work the way that you think it does." Freyja talking to someone trying to belittle her in some form.

"I also don't think I need your help as much as you think I do."

13. Chrysamere: The greatsword Freyja wields, originally known as Chrysamere, is an artefact she discovered after venturing into a ruin. She has reforged it, imbuing it with her own dragonfire and the essence of the dragon Odahviing. The blade now glows a deep, obsidian black, and its hilt is adorned with dragon scales and obsidian. The reforged Chrysamere is a powerful weapon, capable of cleaving through even the toughest armour.

Freyja towers over most people growing up, it was something she held over the other person instigating a fight or trying to start a fight with someone else. Which most of the time had gone her way most of the time.

"You will regret this one day! I'll make sure of it, Freyja."

"I certainly doubt that. I hope it is a long and healthy hate." A younger Freyja yelled back at the shorter child.

14. Freyja is the champion for Hermaeus Mora. She had decided that after she had taken the Oghma Infinium after Septimus Signus was disintegrated to ashes in front of her. While Freyja's thirst for knowledge is unquenchable, most of what drives it is her dragon-like need to dominate. Just like any other dragon around her, it's the main reason she has become a reliable aid to those who can't afford to pay for a healer or a place to replace or repair their equipment.

Her secret hideaway made from the eggshell she hatched from embedded into the bath, the flooring and the walls. The main structure held up by marble stone as the foundation and the main structure held up by marble stone as the foundation and the roof made from the obsidian scales of her mother. The place was a hidden paradise, a place where she could retreat and meditate, her dragon companions often joining her. Inside, the walls were adorned with tapestries depicting the history of her lineage, and the floor was covered in soft, plush rugs. The bath was a large, circular pool filled with warm, soothing waters, infused with the healing properties of dragonfire.

15. Freyja's Dragonfire: Freyja's dragonfire a unique colour, a mix of a deep, obsidian black and a fiery crimson. Creating an ombre of black and red, black on the bottom and red on the top. Merging in the centre, creating a mesmerising, almost ethereal effect. Freyja's dragonfire is not only visually striking but also incredibly powerful. It can melt through even the most resistant materials and incinerate entire armies. However, Freyja is careful to control her power, using it only when necessary and in moderation.

16. The Bond with Her Sisters: Despite the fiery nature of her soul, Freyja has a strong bond with her sisters. Her eldest sister, the one she made the necklace for, is named Visenya. Visenya is the political mastermind of the family, using her wit and charm to navigate the treacherous waters of the Targaryen court. Her second sister, Rhaenys, is a skilled warrior in her own right and the fastest rider of dragons. The three of them share a deep connection, supporting each other through the trials and tribulations of their tumultuous lives.

Extra Headcanons

(One) Freyja often used brothels to get information on wealthy men and women. However, her height of Six feet and Eleven inches tall. Often mistaken for a man because of her height, the way she carries herself and the deep guttural sound of her voice. It makes her the tallest of her sisters. She has a strong build, muscular yet feminine, and her skin is a pale, translucent white with an iridescent sheen. Her eyes, a mix of violet blue and light grey with small flecks of obsidian black.

Is it no wonder that women in the brothel had a tough time keeping their composure around Freyja? Her size and demeanour could be intimidating, yet she had a gentle way about her that put them at ease. Her eyes, however, told a different story. They were pools of ancient wisdom, hinting at the depth of her experience and the sharpness of her intellect. As she sat at the dimly lit table, the scent of cheap ale and candle wax hung in the air, mingling with the sweet perfumes the working girls dabbed on their wrists and necklines. The chatter of the tavern was a low murmur, a backdrop to the whispers of secrets and deals being made in the shadows.

She would pay for secrets from the working girls, knowing they saw more types of people than anyone else in the city. She would pay double of what they usually got from a night of work for just one piece of valuable information. Her honeyed words and silver coins could loosen even the tightest of lips.

(Two) Freyja works and owns a forge making jewellery, weapons and armour for those who needed it. Regardless of the why, as she never asked why they needed them. It was none of her business as long as the coin was good. Her sisters often visited her in the forge, bringing news of the city and sometimes customers who sought her unique craftsmanship. Her eldest sister, Visenya, was the one who brought her the latest piece of information that could be of use.

Visenya, with her fiery red hair and piercing violet blue eyes, strutted into the forge with the confidence of a lioness. Her leather armour, adorned with dragon scales, creaked with every step she took. The flames of the forge danced in her eyes, reflecting the fiery passion that burned within her soul. She whispered into Freyja's ear, the heat of her breath as intense as the forge itself, "I have found a customer with a most peculiar request."

Freyja, her hammer pausing mid-swing, cocked an eyebrow in intrigue. She knew Visenya had a knack for sniffing out the juicy bits of gossip and the odd jobs that paid handsomely. "Who is it?" she asked, wiping the sweat from her brow with the back of her forearm.

"A young lordling," Visenya began, her smile filled with mischief. "Claims to have stumbled upon a map to an ancient dragon's hoard. He's looking for someone to forge him a weapon worthy of slaying the beast and claiming the treasure. He heard of your skill with Valyrian steel and insists on no one else."

[thana-topsy]

Reblogging Trans!Cicero for TDOV and forcing you to look at him. LOOK AT HIM.

Trans Cicero! Not Cis-cero!