#stupid thalmor

[firefly-factory]

"The degeneracy of the Empire is on display here in this room," or, "Ondolemar knows they'll never fire him"

Silly little comic based on this post by @skyrim-forever

Ondolemar knows that no one else wants to move to skyrim (even if Elenwen ordered them to) so he's basically irreplaceable.

Snippet of story below the cut, because the Ondolemar brain rot goes deeper than I care to admit. It's the same vibe as the comic, but extended a bit <3

~

Ondolemar stood with his back to the wall, a drink in one hand while he chatted with one of the party-goers. She was a pretty mer with near-white hair and sharp gold eyes. It surprised him when she asked about the growing tensions with the Empire, but he had been happy to oblige with an answer. It gave him an excuse to ignore the dirty looks the First Emissary had been shooting him all night.

" . . .our needs. But make no mistake, this is not a peace forged out of necessity between rival nations of equal strength. It is more like the calm between storms. And the next storm, I think, will be far deadlier than the last."

The mer - he thought her name was Astra - nodded thoughtfully. But before she had a chance to say anything more, the First Emissary stepped in, interrupting the conversation.

"Ondolemar." Elenwen hissed, grabbing the mer by the elbow. "I need you to come with me."

She dragged him out into the hallway, closing the door behind them. After she ascertained that they were properly alone, she crossed her arms, scowling at him. Her overdone eyeshadow made her usually sour expression even more severe. "What do you think you're doing?"

"Simply talking to one of our guests about the future of--"

"We both know that's not what I'm talking about. Your shoes! Where are they?"

She gestured angrily at his bare feet. He wiggled his toes in response, but said nothing else.

Elenwen put her palm to her forehead, sighing heavily. "Such behavior is unbefitting a Commander of the Thalmor."

This time he actually laughed. "My behavior? The degeneracy of the empire is on display at this party, and you're concerned about my footwear? I doubt your 'esteemed guests' even noticed, with how suspicious they are of us and each other."

Elenwen opened her mouth again, as if to protest.

He cut her off, sneering. "And if you don't like it, good luck finding another commander who's willing to relocate to this miserable icebox of a country. Let alone one who is willing to give up the -barest- of creature comforts just to meet your standards of propriety."

He pivoted on one bare heel, striding back to the main room. Elenwen, for once, was speechless.

[joznii]

Sorry I have to send my ask through my main blog, but it is soooo nice to see more Sven and Faendal shippers out there. I hadn't ever thought of it until a couple years ago when someone here posted their fic and it was only the 2nd? or 3rd fic for the two of them to ever go on ao3, BUT IT JUST MAKES SENSE!!!! They are the PERFECT enemies to lovers!! I can't see it any other way anymore tbh. Your art and ideas are great and I can't wait to see what you do and who you convert!

THEY REALLY ARE !! Their dynamic lends itself to SO MUCH i honestly thought i was going INSANE when i looked for content of them and there was so little like HOW!! Tailor made enemies to lovers like AHGGGHHHH

Im glad u enjoy my art, i hate to say they single handedly pulled me out of a YEARS long artblock its so embarrassing lmao

[aetherialfalmer]

Fuck it Estormo headcanon time

Estormo is actually young compared to Ancano. He's somewhere between 19-22 so it can lead to Ancano calling him a child at times.

He became a storm magic specialist after he survived being struck by a bolt of lightning as a child. The entry point scar is on his back and the exit point is on his upper abdomen.

Instead of staying at the college, he stayed in the local inn in different clothes. Something about Ancano wanting him to keep watch on the outside but it annoyed him nonetheless.

He's a few inches taller than Ancano and it was something that frustrated Ancano to no end.

At times he can be a little dense and instructions have to be very clear for him to get it.

His preferred areas of study are Enchanting and Ayleid study. He'd rather investigate Ayleid ruins than be assigned to the "cunt who got stationed in butt fuck nowhere."

He prefers light armor and prefers one handed weapons.

It's a bit random but if he eats cheese it triggers his sleepwalking.

In secret, he kept interracial romance novels on his person. He's always been quietly rebellious over the stigma and finds those novels to be a sign of protest.

He was born in Alinor but was chosen by the Thalmor in his mid-teens.

He's a nonfunctional Homosexual but is on the acespectrum

[kyliafanfiction]

Hot take: I actually think the argument in “The Talos Mistake” is a good one, and I kind of wish that it could be true.

The shrines to Talos work, so it’s probably not true, Talos really is a god, but I kind of hate that it happened.

[came-out-of-the-coffin-desisted]

my haaaaaands are still fucked uuuuuup but when they’re unfucked up i’m gonna draw smth so sexy and delicious for my new skyrim oc i can see the comp in my mind’s eye it’d just make my hands fall off if i tried to draw it

[whitegoldtower]

Ugh I feel my most vampiric when I’m at my most anaemic

I’m wrapped up in 2 duvets, pyjamas and a hoodie because my cold flashes have turned me into a shivering mess and I can’t feel my toes

My room needs to be dark bc the light is hurting me

My skin has just gone milk bottle pale

And to top it all off I’ve got stupid cravings for dirt, salt and blood pudding 🥲

Can’t even type properly because my fingers are freezing. I need a cuddle.

I need specifically the Altmer cuddle pile to warm me up. Throw some Dunmer in there for extra heat too pls I am shivering

[omegaversereloaded]

Gotta bail my stupid fucking thalmor husband out of jail for another fucking DUI charge

[captain-of-silvenar]

Ondolemar is such a funny character to imagine about because he talks about elven supremacy and how he's the best of the best "bask in it" dealio like he's hot shit. He's Commander Justiciar of the Thalmor in Skyrim which should command a level of respect and fear akin to running into like Galmar Stone-fist and Legate Rikke but-

But he's at one ass end of Skyrim watching over arguably one of the most hostile cities in Skyrim. Which could be argued it has an importance of the silver mines and being one point of contention in the civil war.

But the mer sleeps on a stone bed for gods sake. He stands around saying "stupid dog" and asks a stranger to do his job of stealing an Amulet of Talos. He doesn't even become hostile toward you if you wear one I don't think.

And when you do his one side quest he is so charmed by you that he does a diversion tactic. For you. In his own embassy. Against his people. A total stranger because he has no one else in this damn game he could trust, what kind of Altmer does that?

Ondolemar does. And I want to both slap his bald head and also take him out to dinner.

Just to see what he does, he's such a funny character to me.

[moodcrab]

Fixing Delphine

This bitch.

I actually like that they made a character that is on your side but is somewhat unlikable, Delphine is Team Dragonborn, but she's not really one of the good guys. And that's cool, conflict means drama. So what's the problem? Well unfortunately, this drama is surface level and isn't used to drive the story, so It's kind of just annoying.

People oversimplify their hatred of Delphine into "She wants you to kill Paarthurnax," because unlike Delphine, people actually like Paarthurnax. Understandable, but barely scratches the surface. We'll get to The Paarthurnax Dilemma in time, but that quest is a symptom, not the illness itself.

If I could sum up Delphine in a word it would be "inconsistent." For example, she's a fugitive waging a one woman war on the Thalmor from the shadows, who's only survived this long from sheer paranoia - but she also uses her real name and leaves a note in Ustengrav for whoever happens to pick it up with directions and a pass word to her secret hide out.

She needs to go through her super secret contact Farengar to use the Jarl's resources to go into Bleak Falls Barrow, a tutorial level dungeon she can see from her house, and she's impressed that you did it - but she also goes personally to the other side of the country to delve alone into the massive Ustengrav to steal the Horn of Jurgan Windcaller, no issues, just a quick in and out twenty minute adventure.

She takes the fact that you found her Ustengrav note as proof you're the Greybeard's new guy and not some Thalmor plant even though she herself, a non Dragonborn, had also completed Ustengrav and taken the horn proving it's totally possible. She even points this out in her own dialogue then demands we prove who we are, even though that was the whole point of the Ustengrav note. It's also a pretty big assumption that just because I'm the guy the Greybeards call Dragonborn that I can't ALSO be with the Thalmor.

We are left with this awkward sense that the writers are flailing to make us think this woman is competent and objective, without actually having her do anything that clever. Just act like the dumb thing was smart and have her act like a cocky brat if questioned about it.

Inconsistency. It's her thing. Does she hate the Thalmor? That would make sense given what we know about her. But that gets dropped half way through the main story and suddenly she hates The Greybeards, for absolutely no reason at all. She gives a reason, but it's bullshit.

In her own words, "If the greybeards had their way, the dragonborn would sit on a mountain talking to the sky." But that's not true is it. We know The Greybeards, they encouraged us to fulfill our destiny. Even if you say you want to follow their Way of the Voice, they'll be glad to hear it but warn you not to let it get in the way of what needs to be done. Delphine even uses Tiber Septim as an example, which is even stupider because The Greybeards actively encouraged Tiber to conquer Tamriel. Have I read more in game books than the dialogue writers??

But that's not the end of it, when it becomes convenient for the plot this hatred is flipped once again from The Greybeards onto dragons. Not Alduin. All dragons. Despite the fact that, as a Blade, she should know about Nafaalilargus, a dragon ally of the Empire and the Blades for thousands of years, and the Blades don't just indiscriminately kill all dragons no matter the circumstances, and that Tiber Septim himself almost certainly met Paarthurnax at some point, she suddenly seems to be acting like she has a personal grudge against dragons. Which brings us to the Paarthurnax Dilemma...

See here's the thing, you could easily write off the frustration everyone feels towards this quest as Bethesda's crappy design, where there is no conclusion other than to kill Paarthurnax, or else leave an unfinished quest languishing in the menu. Bethesda apparently didn't consider the idea that anybody would actually prefer to turn on the Blades, even though the Blades have become a bit of a running joke among the fans, or that anyone would take umbrage with Delphine giving out orders and ultimatums.

But no, it's so much worse than that. Delphine being a surly unlikable c u n t from the day we met her is one thing, but the fact that she has been wrong about almost everything she's ever said in game, and still having the AUDACITY to treat us like her work bitch and us never, not once, getting the opportunity to put her in her place... That's not poor quest design, that's the game gaslighting us.

Let's do a quick list of every one of Delphine's theories, and how many were actually correct shall we:

You are not the Dragonborn ❌

The Greybeards shouldn't be trusted to identify a Dragonborn ❌

The dragons aren't just coming back, they're coming back to life ✅

The Thalmor have something to do with the dragons returning ❌

Esbern is dead ❌

The Greybeards just want the Dragonborn to sit on a mountain and meditate ❌

The Greybeards wanted Tiber Septim to just sit on a mountain and meditate ❌

Paarthurnax, having lived in exile for thousands of years, deserves corporal punishment ❌

As ACTING Grand Master of the Blades, she gets to boss around the Dragonborn ❌

She deserves a seat at the peace negotiations ❌

And these are just the things that are factually wrong, leaving aside opinions on her morality and shitty attitude. This is the woman the game presents to us as a shrewd strategist.

BUT I CAN FIX HER!

Like I said I like the idea of a character who is on your side but is somewhat unlikable. It actually won't take much to make Delphine endearing to the fans. We have to do a Boromir on her. A Lot of people dislike Boromir throughout the Fellowship of the Ring but weep at his death. We have to tweak three things to have the same thing happen to Delphine:

1. Make her actually competent and useful so that while we don't agree with her we can see why she does the things she does, and desire to keep her around.

2. Have her mistakes called out and have consequences.

3. Have her redeem her mistakes with a badass honourable death.

[ladytanithia]

WIP whenever tf

I've had practically nothing in progress writing-wise in ages. Lost my mojo. But I'm trying to get back into a groove. Not happy with how I've done BLP so far, so I'm rewriting it, from the beginning, and incorporating Miranja's journal into it.

However, this scene from Out of the Ashes came up in a conversation the other day, and OotA technically still counts as a WIP, since it's not finished (dammit - NONE of the parts of Miranja's story is truly finished!). So I figured what the hell. It's been a long time since I had any writing to share, and this is one of the best scenes to really show how Miranja's mind works. Not even any sex here. <gasp!>

Tagging friends whose writing I've been enjoying whilst not producing anything myself. @dirty-bosmer @lillxart @mareenavee @skyrim-forever @thequeenofthewinter @theoneandonlysemla I hope you enjoy it.

It was just about eight o’clock in the evening when they arrived back in Solitude. Before doing anything else, Miranja went directly to Castle Dour.

Tullius was sitting on the bench in the corner by the enchanting table in the foyer. Miranja had gone straight to the war room looking for him, hadn’t found him, had checked his bedroom, still hadn’t found him, and had backtracked to the front door before he finally spoke to her and drew her attention.

“Looking for me, Auxiliary?”

Surprised, Miranja turned toward the sound of his voice and approached him.

“Yes, sir. Here’s the Jagged Crown. Legate Rikke sent me to deliver it to you.” She handed over the Crown, and Tullius took it and turned it in his hands, examining it with interest as he replied.

“Excellent work, soldier. I have to admit, I had my doubts it even existed. Did you run into any trouble?”

Tears filled Miranja’s eyes, but she kept a stiff upper lip. Teldryn’s hand in the middle of her back certainly helped give her fortitude.

“We lost a lot of good men. I hope it was worth it.” Tullius didn’t need to know that she was also talking about the Stormcloaks who died.

“That’s not for you to decide, soldier. I wouldn’t have sent you in the first place if it wasn’t going to be worth it.”

Miranja’s pride stung at those words, while at the same time, her sense of justice was offended. She was the gods-damned Dragonborn, as well as a Thane in this hold, and she had become largely unaccustomed to people talking down to her. And in her opinion, this stupid war wasn’t worth the loss of ANY people, if you got right down to brass tacks. No one should be dying over what she felt was a deeply personal religious issue. It was tantamount in her mind to killing people for what they did in their own bedrooms.

“You seem to forget who you’re speaking to, General. May I be candid with you, sir?”

“By all means, Auxiliary. Let’s hear it.” There was a challenge in his voice and in the way he jutted out his chin.

“With all due respect, sir, I don’t like you very much.”

“Well, that’s fine,” Tullius replied indifferently. He rose and brushed past her to carry the crown into the war room. “I’m not here to win popularity contests. I’m here to keep the Dominion out of Skyrim, and to quell this dissention.”

Miranja followed him, and Teldryn tagged along quietly behind her. “The Dominion is already in Skyrim, whether you want to admit it or not. I pass Thalmor on the road every day taking Stormcloak prisoners to gods-know-where to do gods-know-what to them. The only reason I don’t kill them is that I don’t want a bounty on my own head.”

“Wise choice,” Tullius acknowledged briefly, but added, “Think what you want, Auxiliary. It could be much worse.”

“I’m sure it could. I just want you to know that I think you’re a cold, insensitive…” She hesitated for a moment, searching for a milder word than ‘asshole.’ “…jerk. I wonder if you have a compassionate bone in your body, and if you really care about the people of Skyrim at all.”

Tullius’ face darkened with anger. “Listen up, Auxiliary. I’m here to do a job. Not that it’s any of your damned business, but I have family back in Cyrodiil who I love and miss terribly. I’ve been in Skyrim longer than I ever wanted to be. I’m doing what I’m paid to do, what I believe is for the greater good in the long run. I hope that’s also what you’re doing, why you joined the Legion in the first place.”

“Of course it is,” Miranja glowered back. “But I’d like to think I’m going about it in a more personal, compassionate way. I’m not sitting in a fancy castle ordering everyone else around. I’m on the ground, learning about the people and helping them in more ways than just killing Stormcloaks and getting Imperial soldiers killed.”

“Well, good for you,” Tullius replied with overt sarcasm. “Imperial Generals don’t have that luxury. I didn’t get to my station in life by being compassionate.”

“That may be so, General, but it’s obvious you’re not particularly happy. And there’s no reason to take it out on others. You chose your path.”

“And you chose yours when you joined the Legion, Auxiliary. You can either follow orders or take up residence in the Solitude prison. Which will it be?”

She was sick of being addressed as a title. “My name is Miranja. Miranja Laurentius. And I will follow orders, but that doesn’t mean I have to like it.”

“You’re absolutely right, Miranja. We all have to do things we don’t like to bring about things we do like.” He stopped and regarded her with a scrutinizing look, as Miranja stared back with some surprise at his unknowing echoing of her father’s words.

“You said your name was Laurentius?”

“Yes.” She didn’t bother with the ‘sir.’

“Your father was in the Legion, wasn’t he?”

“Yes… sir.” Where was he going with this?

“Ah, yes, I see the resemblance now. I worked with your father briefly in Hammerfell some twenty-five years or more ago. I remember him because he had the same bleeding heart and lack of respect that you do.”

“I’m proud of my father and his work for the underprivileged,” Miranja said, jutting out her chin as Tullius had earlier. “And both my father and I give respect where it’s due. We just feel morally compelled to point out injustice regardless of who’s perpetrating it, and that includes the Empire.”

“Well, his soft heart is what kept him from advancing past Captain. He could have been a general himself, if he’d been tougher.”

“My father and I don’t measure success by titles and wealth. We measure our riches and our station in life by the happiness we create and the love we give and receive. My father retired a happy, peaceful man, and he’s still bringing joy to those around him and earning respect for his deeds.”

“Well, that’s a heartwarming story, Auxiliary, and your opinions are duly noted, but it’s time we got back to business.”

Miranja heaved a resigned sigh and closed her eyes for a moment, then spoke tiredly. “Very well, sir. What’s next?”

“I need someone I can trust to deliver a message of great import to Jarl Balgruuf of Whiterun.”

“Yes, sir.”

“We have it on good authority that Ulfric has raised enough men to attack the city of Whiterun. The Jarl, however, refuses the Legion’s support. This missive should convince him. Be aware, soldier, these documents contain sensitive intelligence for the Jarl’s eyes only.”

Yes, yes, she’d overheard the conversation between Rikke and Tullius when she’d first walked into Castle Dour yesterday. “Of course, General. We may not see eye-to-eye, but we are on the same side, and you can trust me. Balgruuf was one of my first friends when I came to Skyrim. I’ll see this gets delivered.”

“You do that,” Tullius replied, eyeing her thoughtfully. “You’re dismissed.”

Once they were outside, Tel whistled – or tried to, and only partially succeeded with the scarf over his face – and shook his head. “Damn, woman, I can’t believe you spoke to a General like that and didn’t end up in the stockade.”

“Speaking your mind isn’t a crime, Tel, and I didn’t disobey any orders. I asked him for permission to be candid, and I also made sure to include ‘with all due respect.’ My father taught me that. I know when I’m within my rights.”

Teldryn chuckled. “I like a woman with cast iron balls. I bet your dick is bigger than his.”

Miranja grinned and blushed with a mixture of amusement and embarrassment. They were still standing between the door guards, and there was no way the guards hadn’t heard the whole conversation, but they were wisely keeping their mouths shut. She knew the barracks would be abuzz later, though.

“So, what are we going to do with the rest of the evening, boss?”

[skyrim-forever]

WIP Wednesday

Hello everyone, it's Wednesday already! Tagged by the wonderful @theoneandonlysemla (thank you for handsome altmer art hehe) Tagging @dirty-bosmer @thequeenofthewinter @lucien-lachance @umbracirrus @pocket-vvardvark @firefly-factory no pressure as always but if you'd like to share I am more than happy to see anything <3

This week I'm sharing part of my third and final chapter for this little minific I've been doing of Theodora and Ondolemar at Lakeview Manor (which you can find here). They've been having a good time aside from him getting stabbed but now it's time to address some things. Ondolemar, where were you from 4E 171-175? 🤔🤔🤔

“I’ve been missing Anvil more and more lately. The smell of the sea, how fresh the fish is. It’s beautiful…” Her words trail off as thoughts take over. 

After the defeat of Ulfric Stormcloak, General Tullius had provided an overview of all the Thalmor agents in Skyrim. Detailing their ranks, location, and status during the Great War. This was done to give the upper ranks of the Legion more information, he had specifically said to her that the Empire’s peace with the Thalmor may not last much longer. An offer to join the Emperor’s War Council had soon followed. 

“When you are ready to come home Legate Victius, the Empire will be proud to welcome the Dragonborn.” A load of propaganda was what it was, though she pretended to consider. 

In regards to the actual Thalmor agents, some information was already known to her. Legate Rikke had told her of Elenwen’s involvement in Ulfric Stormcloak’s torture. But soon the General went on to explain the others, names that she was thankful not to know. But then he said his name. “Commander Ondolemar, leader of the Thalmor Justiciars in Skyrim. Currently operating in Markarth, formerly a part of Arannelya’s army that swept through the Gold Coast to Hammerfell via Valenwood.”

A naive part of her had hoped he hadn’t been involved in the war at all. After realizing how stupid that was, she then decided that it would be okay if he was there for the capture of the Imperial City. She already accepted so much, being born post-war helped her ignore the realities of his faction, she could handle that; as terrible as it sounded. But, he had been there in Anvil, the home of her and her father before her. The ache that rocked through her body in that moment nearly knocked her off her feet. The only thing that kept her upright was the fear of explaining why. If she believed in the gods she would have thought they cursed her with what happened next. 

He was in Windhelm, he had used work as an excuse to come all that way to see her. They drank, and laughed, and he let his guard down further. They talked about home and he said he loved her for the first time. That he would grow still, to love her more. That he could never hurt her, even if it meant disobeying an order. 

If that is true she tells herself then he will not lie to me. 

“But you’ve been to Anvil before, haven’t you?” 

[mamadovie]

Could I ask for a drabble or smth where it's just after a female vampire db has found Kaidan? Like they've just gotten to Ivarstead and when he finally has the time to fully look at her cause they're able to rest at the inn, he notices there's something...off about her eyes. Glowing, slightly tinged red, etc. He asks her about it when there's nobody around--possibly slightly angsty (maybe a smidge of hurt/comfort?) because the db doesn't like being a vampire but hasn't been able to see Falion about the cure yet because she hasn't found the item she needs.

If this isn't your thing please feel free to ignore it!

𐙚 . . . KAIDAN.

A N: I love this idea sm. From what I gather, you mean when Kaidan and the MC first meet, by 'where it's just after a female vampire db has found Kaidan'? That is how I will write it, if not, I am sorrryyyy.

A B O U T: You're a vampire, and Kaidan finds out.

W A R N I N G S: Angst, blood, hunger/violence.

Your secret was a painful one, and one that had you holding your breath every time a mortal was in your presence. You didn't choose vampirism, it was cursed upon you during your travels. Even though it's a goal of yours to rid yourself of said curse, a man by the name of Kaidan flipped that plan upside down. Between the potential threat of the end of the world and the Thalmor that drove their swords up your asses at each turn didn't make it easy to find the cure.

You were hungry, so much so that your teeth ached against your gums and as the sun glared down upon you, you craved for the cold weather, where Skyrim's sky grew dreary and upsetting; everything was heightened and you felt as if you were about to pass out.

Kaidan didn't pay much attention. He was still aching at the bones from the torture that he endured up the abandoned prison. He noticed you wince whenever he'd press at the wounds, the blood seeping through his wraps. But he gathered that maybe you're a little squeamish. Who was he to judge?

And the fact that you wore your hood up all day, then again, maybe you're trying to lay low. Who knows? It's not every day that a general member of the public goes delving in abandoned prisons that's threatening to collapse. You're obviously a person that's either up to no good or up to something. He can't judge about that either. He's not exactly got the cleanest background.

So he allows space between you both. He doesn't want to step on any toes, you saved his life, and the best he can do is shut up and try to allow himself to heal.

But on the inside, you're bubbling away. Each time he unravels the wrappings, when he cleans himself, you watch the blood mingle with river, and you feel your fangs protrude in your mouth, angry and sharp. But you can't. No, you really can't. You need to heal. You need to get a black soul gem. You need to.

As the sun melts into the horizon, you watch it with glee as your shoulders sag in relief. It’s almost night, the sun would give you a few hours of mercy and Kaidan would soon sleep, leaving you to venture into the woods to feed on its wildlife — it wasn’t the best, but it helped you survive, not to turn to ash in the sun or die of literal starvation. But you couldn’t ignore the pounding in your head, you needed a cure and fast; or soon you would feed on human life, and so far, Kaidan has proven to not only be useful but he’s also not that bad to travel with. You really didn’t want to wake up covered in his blood and his body mauled like a bear lost a competition and threw a fit of rage. 

Returning from the edges of the river, an alchemy pouch dropped from his hand and onto the floor, “just found it, might have some stuff you’d like.” Kaidan shrugs, poking his fingers at the fresh wounds against his torso. Wincing, you look away and grab the pouch. 

A few ingredients flooded from the pouch but something seemed stuck, probably a stupid soul gem, not the kind that you wanted, anyway. Pulling it out, your eyes widen as you take in the inky-toned gem. “By the Gods.” You could have cried. 

“You hungry?” Kaidan asks, stirring the pot as he shrugs off the coming cold. You forgot what it felt like to feel cold. To feel anything slightly human. But you had a chance now. Finally. 

“No, I’m not.” You say, still looking at the black soul gem. “Tomorrow we're heading straight to Morthal.”

From inside of the dense thickets, your teeth ached against the withering being as it shook on the floor, sad and wide eyes blinking in paralysed terror. You learned to look away, not being able to withstand the guilt. Killing bad people is easy, robbing the rich is easier still, but taking innocent animal life stung. But it wouldn’t cost you your life in the dungeons, or getting killed by the Dawnguard. No, feasting on animals was safer. 

“What in the…” A voice, a very unique and memorable voice called from behind you. Looking back in fear, you wipe your mouth and stand up, your entire body tenses up as Kaidan watches you. Fiery red eyes, long and jarring fangs, your mouth covered in blood and your skin glowed in the moonlight. “You’re a … a vampire?”

His knuckles whiten against his sword, his jaw clenches and for the first time, he looks at you with disgust. You can smell the fear radiate from him, his blood is stricken with betrayal — you’re a liar. You deceitful little bitch. 

“No!” You shout before he walks any closer, your blood eyes shaking in… fear? He quirks a brow up, aren’t you the predator here? So why do you look so.. Ashamed. So scared. 

You’re a monster. Not something to sympathise with, you lied. Lured him in. 

“The black soul gem,” you raise it up in the air. “I filled it just. That’s why we’re going to Morthal, I know someone who can cure me, please, believe me, Kaidan.” You beg, your entire face scrunches up in remorse. 

Kaidan remains conflicted as he loosens his grip on his sword with hesitation, “why didn’t you tell me this before?” His question almost makes you laugh because isn’t it obvious?

“I knew that you would react like this. To try and kill me.” You say with a deflated tone. “Just believe me, Kaidan. I beg of you.” 

Kaidan stands in the cold for a few moments, looking you over before sighing, “fuck. Alright. Straight to Morthal, we’ll head off now. The sooner that you’re cured the better. You can't live off of animals forever.” 

You finally breathe out, your entire body relaxes as he allows the edge of his sword to drag across the floor rather than your neck as you head back to camp. You both clear the camp up and set off early into the morning where you can keep your hood off and tell Kaidan all about the curse and how it met you.

[bougainvillea-and-saltwater]

OC in Fifteen!

I was tagged by @skyrim-forever and @hircines-hunter (thank you so much both! 🧡) to post fifteen lines of dialogue that showcase my oc's personality, so naturally, I'm doing this for my Last Dragonborn, Jia.

“What is there to answer? It was your fault all along. If you had killed Alduin in the first place, none of these would have happened. I wouldn’t even have been born.”

“I did not need your help. I will brew my potions.”

“These days, they say that versatility is the spice of life. Keeps me on my toes, among other things.”  

“My people call me Lady of Man and Dragon, and Ysmir and Dragonborn, whereas to the dragons, I am Sunfyre the Golden, and they call me Shulyolviim. Some call me Harbinger, others Guildmaster, others honor me as Archmage, and others... others may still call me with a name I no longer go by. To you, I can be Jia.”

“These are called mountain flowers. They blossom on foothills and close snowlines. Blue, purple, and red are fairly common, but the yellow variety is a rare specimen. When I finally found it, I was overjoyed. I brought it here immediately and sprouted it along with the others. I just couldn’t put it at withering risk; this way, I won’t need to seek it all over Skyrim again. They are mischievous and sneaky, the yellow ones. Always hidden away from prying human eyes. That alone makes them so mysterious and even more beautiful. Look at its color. Isn’t it so lovely? As if a little ray of sunlight slipped right into their petals. . .”

“I had a brief interaction with your fellow Dragon Priest before letting my arrows fly from the shadows and soul-trapped him in my bound bow. He had the nerve to taunt me in dragon tongue when he sensed my presence in Labyrinthian. Cowardly men will find no mercy here, he’d said. The thing is, I was neither a coward nor a man.”

“And you, stop patronizing me! You do not even have the slightest idea what the Thalmor are capable of, Miraak! None of you here have!” 

“I will answer to murder, terror, and injustice of this war just the way it deserves.”

“On behalf of what, should I give up my revenge? Virtuous preaching and moral codes? And what about evil’s penalty? Who shall grant it in the end? The Divines? I prayed for Their mercy, day and night then, and what did it gain me?”

“No! I was a stupid girl! Laughable! Did I... Did I even want to really take revenge for the parents I never knew, or satisfy my selfish, foolish need of being the ultimate control of something? An idea of control that was naught but a ruse, a shade upon the wall! [. . .] Don’t touch me so much, so long. I may leave a stain on you.”

“The moment I return to Heljarchen Hall and see those I love harmed—in any way—I will come for you, Maven Black-Briar. And I swear to you: then, I will not stop the fire; then, I will let your screams be heard. And then, I will make you understand what terror really means.”

“What you did while I was in Riften, I will never forget it. You protected Heljarchen Hall, battled my enemy, and healed my friend. I’d say I trust you with my life now, but I have already trusted it in your hands long ago, haven’t I?”

“You are not in the Dragon Cult any longer. You don’t have to wear a mask anymore. Let go of it; let go of this false veneer once and for all. You are here now, with me, and you are more than allowed to feel. Here, you are home with friends and... and family. You know it; you have to know that—I’m—I’m your family. Zu’u los brodiil nu, qostruni.” 

“I do not play with fire, sir, and I have already been sizzled to the soul; no fire can harm me anymore. I am fire itself. Whatever burns is mine to put out or, if necessary, to flare up.”

“I am not some kind of weapon for you to think you can wield me at your whim. My blood is neither Nord nor Imperial and belongs to no man. I’m the blood of the dragon—and I’m afraid constantly patronizing my stance in this war won’t help your cause, Jarl Ulfric.”

I was never ‘no one’, as he was taking pleasure in naming me. I was written in the Wall of a God, I am not a creature that was born, I am an omen foretold, I am eternal. Now, I crack my halo between my thighs, and my claws shall carve its broken pieces into horns.

OOOPS, I accidentally put 16 lines in there. . . Couldn't resist, I tried to pick one from each chapter.

✨open tags!✨

[hircines-hunter]

Making a Statement- Elenwen x LDB Fura oneshot

More lesbian Elenwen x LDB shenanigans; their first official meeting. It’s mostly from Elenwen’s perspective. I’m going to write from Fura’s next I think. Because Fura has a lot more thoughts on the Thalmor. By Talos.

Preview

Senseless chattering. That’s all the party this party was. Keep relations with Skyrim. Promote peace. A sigh left Elenwen’s lips as she turned away from the current discussion amongst the Jarls.

A cold breeze brushed through her robes as the front door opened. Despite the fur lining, she shivered. It was always damned cold. Why was the Embassy located atop a mountain? She peered over at the late arrivals. Razelan. Typical behavior from the merchant. And a new face.

Her eyes wandered to the tall dark haired Nord. She smiled. The Dragonborn. How could Elenwen not recognize the Dragonborn? Just how stupid was the Dragonborn? This party was about to get interesting.

The Ambassador took a few steps over to greet the new arrivals. Razelan flashed a quick smile to Elenwen before turning to the Nord, who shrugged off her fur coat and handed it to him. Elenwen stopped in her tracks. She eyed the pewter dress the Dragonborn wore. The low cut in the back revealed all the scars on the Dragonborn’s back. Thalmor scars. Haphazardly placed scars. She’d have to check records later and punish whoever did them.

[vanill-tea]

WIP Wednesday

as always I am a gigantic slow-poke when it comes to anything but I was tagged by both @lady-iizsil and @theoneandonlysemla for a WIP Wednesday one or two weeks back.

I have been feeling more creative lately so I actually have something I would like to show, it’s a deleted scene from the next chapter of my fan fiction “In the eye of the beholder” on AO3.

The chapter got to long so I had to cut it (also I think it wouldn’t have fit the pacing) but I still liked the premise of it so I decided to post it here.

Enjoy! :)

The group of students stumbled out of the Inn, their nervous yelps and shrieks could be heard throughout the empty streets of the small town. The cold winter air was whistling in between the buildings, hitting their drunken minds like a brick. They were urging Onmund to hold it in just a little longer until the poor man finally emptied his stomach behind a nearby tree stump.

“Oh gross,” Morwen mumbled under her breath as she turned away, trying to keep the contents of her own stomach on the inside.

“Told you we shouldn’t- hicks- shouldn’t have stayed that long, we obviously had too much,” Breyla slurred, the cold air slowly clearing her senses a little bit.

“This one thinks it’s perhaps too late for regret, but he agrees now that it is time to return to the College… after our Companion is done,” he purred, ignoring the hurling sounds behind him.

In the meantime, Ancano had paid for his tab as well, getting ready to leave and follow them. So much for an evening of peace and quiet… but his work came first, and if they kept talking as they had been earlier in the tavern, then perhaps this could turn into a fruitful pursuit for his next report and possibly save him weeks’ worth of espionage.

The Mer fasted his cloak around his person as he left and quickly cast a spell of prolonged invisibility; even in their drunken state they could still notice him.

At the moment, they were seemingly still talking, discussing their next steps while the Nord was throwing up behind a tree stump.

Listening in on the conversation, it quickly dawned on him that those cretins still hoped to return to the dorms, despite their current drunkenness and the not so current disrepair of the icy stone bridge that led over a harrowing chasm with nothing but rock, even more ice and a few puddles at the bottom.

At this hour, there wouldn’t be anyone to guard the bridge either, so no one could help them cross safely… and Ancano himself would not dare intervene. First, they did not trust him and would thus not heed his command and second, if one of them happened to fall, would that be so bad for him? It would certainly decrease the number of migraines he would suffer over the semester.

After the Nord had finally stopped and regained control over his stomach, they decided to head back, with the Thalmor following several meters behind. It seems they have not yet realized that they were about to trap themselves in quite the dangerous predicament.

The group stumbled along the frozen road leading up to the bridging, hanging onto each other and laughing. They passed a lone Cityguard who only shook his head as the group stepped onto the bridge without care, stumbling along until they reached the first section with broken down rails and crumbling tiles.

They almost tripped over themselves struggling to even stand without holding onto the railing as they simply starred. One moment they looked at the section ahead and then the next back the way they came from.

“I- I don’t wanna cross that,” Onmund whined, seemingly close to hurling once more.

“Going back also seems a little steep for J’Zargo’s taste,” the Khajiit replied as he glared at the section behind them that seemed closer to a slide to him than an actual bridge.

“We could try and form a living chain,” Marianna mumbled while Breyla looked at the woman as if she had just seen the peak of stupidity.

Ancano observed quietly as they kept discussing over possible solutions. Going back seemed out of the question, they had no coin left to pay for a room and the previous section of the bridge that seemed in minor disrepair seemed too dangerous to them as well.

After a few minutes they had it down to just sleeping on the bridge, a suggestion that was quickly thrown out the window due to the temperature. Which only left them with Marianna’s brilliantly daft idea to form a chain and try to cross the section.

The mer watched in mild amusement as they took each other’s hands, leaving J’Zargo to go first, followed by Marianna and Breyla. Onmund stayed on the other side, holding onto the railing. At first, their stupid plan actually seemed to work as the students carefully shuffled over the icy tiles, trying their best not to look down.

As the cat was about to arrive at the other side, he reached for the pillar, hoping to grab onto the railing, but instead he lost his footing and slipped.

A sharp yelp escaped his throat as he started flaying his arms, breaking free from Marianna.

The Altmer tried to hold off J’zargo from falling, grabbing the Khajiit by his tail to pull him back, but as he landed back on the bridge, she herself stumbled back, arms waving through the air as she herself started slipping. With the Dunmer having stumbled back to the save section and the cat clinging to the floor, there was no one left to save her from falling.

She starred down into the ravine beneath her, eyes wide in fear with a scream stuck in her throat that couldn’t escape. Ancano didn’t know what foul spirits possessed him that moment, he should have let her perish. As a potential threat that would have been much easier. Still, he was beside her before even he had fully comprehended the situation and grabbed her by her wrist, his cloak of invisibility dissipating as he starred down at the woman clinging onto her arm.

Big green eyes pierced through the night, meeting his gaze as the other apprentices screamed. Ancano tried to remain stone faced, giving the woman a hearty thug to pull her from the edge and into his chest. He could only hope this lapse in judgement would not lead to him being hounded by them in the near future.

The woman looked up at him, her mind seemingly trying to comprehend her current situation as she clung to the mer like a lifeline.

“I… thank you…” she mumbled while Ancano’s scowl deepened, he did not enjoy anything about this situation.

Instead of answering he merely picked her up and sat her down at the other side where the railing before finally addressing her: “You should thank me. For your sheer foolishness alone, I should have not intervened.”

A huff escaped him as he stepped back, “And you four better do not assume that it will happen again, I have very important business to attend too, and your problems are not among them.”

With that he walked off, leaving them to fend for themselves, there was nothing of value to be gained after all.

Just another waste of time.

[tiredela]

any time i play imperial, i do the civil war quests first so season unending doesn't start, because then markarth doesn't get handed over to the stormcloaks and he doesn't get killed

I got stressed trying to save Ondolemar last night to the point where I had a dream I opened his coffin, picked him up and shook him like a ragdoll