#theives guild

[dimity-lawn]

Happy Hogswatch from the Thieves’ Guild, who most kindly wish to remind the public that the first 32 premiums arranged on Hogswatch Eve may be had with a Hogswatch Discount.

[elderscrollsconceptart]

Delvin Mallory Browser History

> Do workplace sexual harassment laws apply to illegal organizations

[skyrim-forever]

What your fav Skyrim Faction says about you!

(This is just for fun!!! It's a joke <3 and this is based off of all joinable factions as listed on the ES wiki)

Thieves Guild: Be gay do crime? No, be bisexual do crime

College of Winterhold: FUCKIN NERD

Bard's College: This is your fav as a meme

Imperial Legion: While you're bringing back the glory of Rome you should also take out that stack of dirty dishes by your computer.

Stormcloaks: You're either the worst type of person or the best

Dark Brotherhood: You use dark humour to cover up the fact you deeply crave connection

The Companions: Team Jacob

Dawnguard: You have a holier than thou attitude

Volkihar Clan: Don't cut yourself on all that edge 😛

Blades: This is no one's favourite

Greybeards: You read once about the existence of professional hermits in the 19th Century and have longed for that life ever since

Coven of Namira: Enjoyers of Cannibal by Ke$ha

Nightingales: You probably think Nocturnal is hot and the armour is sick. You are not wrong

House Telvanni: You are one of the cool nerds 😎

Tribal Orcs: The chillest people you'll ever meet

[friend0fcrows]

[nicstylus]

Ik I already posted part of this, but here is the full character sheet all together :]

[smorgasbort]

[naoa-ao3]

A Night in New Orleans

Years before Jean-Luc adopts Remy, he watches him from the balconies and galleries of the French Quarter and wonders if he's doing the right thing. While he wonders, others have plots of their own and Remy, oblivious to it all heads to bed.

The boy was growing and as he did, Jean-Luc LeBeau found himself worrying for him.

He had already removed the child from the Antiquiary but he couldn't remove the boy's eyes from his head nor the whispers and rumors that circulated about him through the air and through the guilds.

He watched the child from a gallery one night as the boy picked pockets along Rue St. Anne.

The boy wore dark shades to hide his eyes now, big, plastic lenses obscuring his face. He didn't know he was being watched but Jean-Luc knew and he knew he wasn't the only one watching that night.

Above the crowed of tourists and drunks, locals out for fun and a million sweating bodies he saw familiar faces on galleries around him. Dark faces hidden in shadow and he knew there was a plot.

People were scared of the boy. His own people. People who should have heeded his words and didn't. He'd said the boy wasn't to be touched and yet here he was, watching them, watching the boy, watching them watch the boy and down below the child had no idea.

His life consisted of reporting his ill gains to Fagin and avoiding a swat to the back of the head. The child didn't know the war fought over him and Jean-Luc wanted to keep it that way. It was better while the boy was still young.

Even this kind of childhood was better than none.

Even so his eyes followed the man across the street. Bourbon was loud tonight and people spilled out of doorways, sweating and wilting in the evening humidity. Even as a native he thought it was hot out that night and his eyes followed the boy who had stopped to watch a Dixie Land Band lead a wedding procession out of the St. Louis Cathedral.

The boy leaned against the fence around Jackson Square and watched them, eyes following the party behind his glasses. Jean-Luc wondered if he had ever been to a wedding. Most probably not, or at least not any he was supposed to have been at.

No one notices the child alone and yet his eyes follow him as the child unwraps his arms from around the fence and saunters off. He dips his little hand into a purse as he does and scoops out a wallet.

Jean-Luc feels a measure of pride for this child he's never spoken too. He's got a son of his own, Henri is a little older and everything he could have ever hoped for but he's always felt a kind of connection with this child, since the night he'd stolen him from the hospital.

There's music pouring into the street and below Remy walks on, not knowing he's being watched, not knowing he's got a destiny. He doesn't have any idea that there's expectations waiting for him.

Jean-Luc wishes he could protect the boy from them but he can't. He's the leader of the Thieves Guild and one boy can't be put above the Guild. Not even his own son Henri could take priority. There's older and more powerful things at play.

Jean-Luc watches the men across the street. Their eyes are fixed on the boy and he doubts they have any good plans for him.

He closes his hand around the railing and frowns hard, the French Quarter below him, spilling the masses onto her streets, hiding a little boy with demonic eyes.

Across town, his own son is asleep in his bed in their garden district manor. He's surrounded by iron fences the old south there, heavy curtains on the windows and antiques. Henri sleeps well and he feels a kind of guilt as he watches Remy in his dirty jeans and old t-shirt. This boy doesn't know anything about that world.

He watches them and then they move, following the boy. He follows them, silent and hidden, they haven't seen him yet but he isn't the leader for nothing.

They move in, hovering from galleries like carrion birds over the boy who walks on oblivious.

Jean-Luc catches up to them when the boy cuts away from Bourbon Street and begins to wander out of the French Quarter, away from the noise and crowed streets.

He knows a few of the places the boy goes to sleep in. He's already staking himself away from Fagin, already too smart for the man. Soon he'll have to take the kid away from Fagin or else risk wasting him. The kid is good but tonight he's just a kid.

"What do you think you're doing?" He asks as he catches up to the other thief. He knew it was Marcus Delacroix from afar. Now that he see's him up close he can see the look on the mans face and knows Marcus didn't know he was watching.

He savors the element of surprise and asks again. "What are you doing?" He asks. "I told you eight years ago that the boy was off limits. I'll handle him."

Marcus hangs for a second before righting his posture. "I remember but you can't trust him, Jean-Luc."

Jean-Luc isn't about to hear this. He knows the superstitions, he's kept then in mind just in case. He knows. "We're not assassins, Marcus." He says. "We're you really planning to harm the boy?"

They're standing on a roof top now, watching the boy as he picks his way along the less crowded streets outside the French Quarter.

"Not harm." Marcus whispers, looking down at the child.

"Then what?"

"Was gonna take him to the Bayou."

Jean-Luc scowls, not pleased and not surprised. "And do what with him?" He asks, knowing probably what. "Hope the gators take care of him for you? Dat boy wouldn't be done that easy, even you should know that."

Marcus winces. "He's dangerous, Jean-Luc. Everyone can see it."

He can see their superstitions. He's heard it all before. "They're just rumors." He says. "And he's just a little boy."

"You know that ain't no boy." Marcus scoffs, voice a little hurt.

Jean-Luc shrugs. "You t'ink so? I wish I could t'ink that way." He looks down at the boy, farther away, disappearing into shadows and the summer heat. What fucking life is he giving this child?

Marcus shakes his head. "Don't know what power he has over you." He says. "De boy will bring us ruin, Jean-Luc. Everyone knows it."

"Everyone knows what they've been told and it's men like you doing the telling, Marcus."

Marcus gives him a grieving look this time, mind unforgiving, unable and unwilling to understand.

The boy is gone.

"He'll doom the Guild."

"Or save it."

Marcus nods, quarry lost, plans aborted. Remy gone. "Maybe." He whispers.

Jean-Luc understands and wishes he still had eyes on the boy. It's when he feels the least guilty.

Remy however is gone into the night and of course knows how and where to hide from the world.

Jean-Luc goes home and watches Henri sleep, wondering if his own son understands how much he loves him. Wondering if he'll forgive him when he gets old enough to know him.

He wonders where Remy is sleeping, knows he's not in a bed like Henri. Know's he's not safe and loved like Henri and he feels like he's letting two children down.

Out there among the street lamps and stars, the one way streets and cemeteries the shot gun houses and superstitions, Remy has a little place to rest and for the night he sleeps unaware

But destiny is coming for him and it'll come in the shapes of Guilds and marauders, X-Men and lovers. Mistakes and trusts and while Jean-Luc knows the boy has a fate he has not a clue of these things.

When he closes the door to his son's room he only knows that Remy is out there asleep and he feels guilt he can't explain. Guilt unfitting of a Guild leader. Guilt of a father and in just a few years time that's what he'll be to the boy. He'll have two sons then and he won't feel he's doing any better.

[0mornings-dawn0]

The Newest Recruit

[luciferissatan]

oh to be a dad to a 5 year old sentient magic mask while running a den of thieves

[sluttyquarantinetheory]

I just failed the Goldenglow job in Skyrim because a fucking dragon swooped from the sky and burned the rest of the fucking hives.

[mat-neptune]

[thelurkershideout]

Just gonna stream of consciousness brainstorm here a sec

So Fjora is my Thieves Guild OC, she's also probably my longest existing OC. She was born in Riften, met Brynjolf when they were both young and formed a friendship, then ran away from her terrible home life and studied to be a bard in Solitude before coming back to Riften years later.

I've been thinking a lot about those early days in Riften recently, and I know that Fjora never met or knew Gallus or Karliah before the events of the quest line. But like, what if they knew her?

What if they were aware of this little girl who clung to the edges of rooms and crowds on instinct? This girl who is already a natural at hovering just out of sight as a defense mechanism? She is clearly lonely, and there's something just WRONG. They know they can't approach her directly, she's too young to join the guild and her family has too tight of control over her for them to approach anyway. BUT they have a relatively new recruit only a few years older than her, fresh from the Gold Coast (this is my attempt to explain the "Lass") who needs to start socializing with the locals so he gets better at his job.

So Gallus gives Brynjolf a gentle nudge. "Just try to talk to her." Maybe under the guise of teaching him how to gather information. "She's always watching people, I wonder what she knows?" Brynjolf is awkward, he hasn't mastered his charm yet, but the quiet giggle from the girl who sits under the docks when it rains is promising.

Snow Veil Sanctum happens shortly after Brynjolf first speaks to Fjora. Years later Gallus's spirit isn't quite sure why, but the young woman who enters the Sepulchre is familiar and he feels hope return to him.

[friend0fcrows]

more sahba

[pleasuremostcarnal]

There sure are a lot of people that join the thieves guild without actually being theives, why is the pick 50 lock and 50 pockets such a rare one?

Y'all really slacking

[maysoulrose]

The Thief and The Moon chapter 11

Skyrim fanfic Brynjolf x my dark elf oc

—————————————— chapter 11———————

“Now for the fun bit!” Allustria squees with excitement. Brynjolf smiled at her enthusiasm. They escaped the tunnels beneath the meadery and had found the brewing vats. Allustria jumps up the stairs to the top of the enormous containers, dancing to each one, and spilling the poison into them. She leaps from the second floor, grabbing onto a pipe to swing from and slow her fall, landing next to Brynjolf, who just watches her, mesmerized. She tosses the bottle behind her shoulder  and grabs his hands. 

“Let’s go watch the show~”

Allustria leads Brynjolf into the shop. She smiles at Mallus at the bar and waves at Sabjorn, who scowls at Brynjolf.

“Who’s this?”

“Oh, him? I thought he’d be a great addition for the payment of a job well done” She bats her eyes. “But if you’re not into threesomes, He can just watch~” Brynjolf turns to her, shocked. Sabjorn’s face is burning. He flicked his eyes at Mallus to see if he was paying attention, who was indeed, and had a hand over his mouth stifling a laugh. 

“Ahem..”  The Captain of the Guard cleared his throat from the corner of the room. Allustria leans forward to look past Brynjolf, who was still speechless. She waves at the Captain who ignores her. 

“Can we please just get this done.” He spoke, rolling his eyes.

“O-of course sir!” Sabjorn pours the man a fresh brew and waits. The captain takes a sip and immediately spits it out, spraying it all over Sabjorn’s face. 

“WHAT KIND OF SICK JOKE IS THIS? You told me you got rid of your rat problem!” The Captain spat all the remnants of the drink onto the ground. He grabbed the little man by the upper arm and led him to the door. “You’re coming with me. It’s obvious now that you’re not fit to run this place.” He wipes his mouth with his free hand and looks over to Mallus.  “You, you’re in charge here until I sort this thing out!” 

“Yes, sir.” Mallus gets out between hushed laughter.

“Wait, I— There’s been a misunderstanding!” Sabjorn pleaded.

“Shut up and get going!” 

Mallus burst into laughter as soon as the door was shut behind them. 

“That was even better than I could have possibly expected! And with your little remark of bedding him for payment?  Even better, HAH!” He continues with his laughter.

“Yeah,” Brynjolf grabs Allustria by the arm. “What was that about? Were you going to actually sleep with the man?!”

She lifts her chin and looks Brynjolf dead in the eyes. A smile spreads across her lips.

��Of course not~” she cocks her head to the side. “It was just obvious that he was a horny little bastard. Plus… he’s not my type~” Her tongue slides across her lips as she looks Brynjolf up and down. He swallowed a lump in his throat, trying to ignore the familiar throb pulsing in his pants. 

—————————————

After getting payment from Mallus, who also offered his services as a fence, they walked back to the city gates of Whiterun. Not much was said between them. Since the sun was setting, they decided it would be best to get a couple rooms at the Bannered Mare and head back to Riften in the morning.  Allustria checked on Shadowmere and then they passed through the gates once again. 

“We need to get some more inconspicuous clothing.” Allustria whispered when noticing one too many guards keeping an eye on them. 

“You can say that again. Let’s get a couple rooms first, then we can figure that out.”

“Agreed.”

They hurry through the streets and enter the tavern in the marketplace. It was just as bustling as it was before. Hulda greeted them, warmly, as she did everyone. 

“Got a couple of rooms to spare?” Allsutria leaned on the counter. Brynjolf followed her, resting his arm next to her while he scoured the patrons. 

“Afraid not. We’re quite busy tonight and only have the one available. Upstairs with the balcony.”

Brynjolf and Allustria exchange glances. They kind of shrug at each other.

“...We’ll take it.” The elf smiles, keeping her eyes on Brynjolf’s.

Hulda accepted their payment and called Saadia over, who showed them to their room.  It was incredibly private, being the only room on the second floor. Brynjolf looked all around and whistled with approval. When Saadia left them, they dumped their packs next to the bed. 

“I guess… I’ll get a bedroll and sleep on the floor. You take the bed.” Brynjolf started. “Looks like there’s a couple of extra blankets in the dresser that I can use—“

“Don’t be an idiot, it’s a double bed. We can share.” Allustria plopped down on the mattress. He looked a little nervous.

“What?”  Her eyebrow raises. “Don’t worry, I don’t bite… hard.” She teases him. 

He snorts, smiling a little, feeling unsure. 

“It’s fine, I’ll take the floor.” He persists. Allustria frowns, but decides to leave it for now. 

To Allustria’s surprise, Brynjolf begins undressing in front of her. Swiftly unbuckling his armor, slipping off the leather belts and gloves. She sits and watches him, wondering if he finally decided to make a move. He kept his eye on her, smirking, and pulled off all the upper half of his thieves guild armor, revealing his soft cotton shirt beneath.

“What? You said to get a change of clothes~” He remarked at her staring wide eyed at him. She blushed and averted her eyes. Brynjolf adored that reaction. He always felt a rush of pride when he was able to fluster her. 

Allustria got up and headed for the door.

“Where do you think you're going?” 

“Unlike you, I need to go get something else to wear. I’ll be back soon.” She haphazardly waved and disappeared out of sight. He smiled to himself and began folding up his discarded clothes, and did a little unpacking. Might as well get a little comfortable, since they’re not in a hurry to get home. 

After laying out some blankets on the floor for his bed, Brynjolf did his hotel room routine of checking every cabinet door and drawer, and pocketed anything worth his time. 

 His eyes trail to the double bed. He brushed his fingertips along the covers and couldn’t help but imagine sharing them with her. Alone together with party goers an earshot away. His cheeks began to burn and a knot formed in his stomach at the thought. A nervous, but excited thought. 

Thinking of waking up to her staring at him, morning sun shining through the gaps in the roof. Daring to explore his imagination a bit further and wondered what might take place during the night. Maybe she would steal a kiss from him and lead him to the bed for further exploration. 

Brynjolf closed his eyes and let his thoughts wander a moment before continuing his search for goodies hidden in the room. A couple of septims had fallen beneath the bed frame from previous attendees. After collecting them, he kept his head to the floor. Maybe a ruby had rolled beneath a cabinet as well. 

Once finished, he leaned against the balcony railing and watched the tavern’s patrons. The sun had set and people from all over were coming in for their time to relax and socialize. He found himself checking the door occasionally. Still no sign of Allustria. 

Brynjolf decided to go down and join the party while he waited for her return. Taking a seat at the bar, he sipped on a bottle of mead, and observed.  Women were flirting with the guards, old friends were catching up, and mercenaries were sprinkled amongst them. It was incredibly lively. Every seat was taken and there was barely room to walk around. A few of the lovely ladies had wandered his way to flirt with him. Asking where he was from, if he was with anyone. He looked them up and down and would smile, but not engage. 

Occasionally, Brynjolf would slip his fingers into loose pockets as the owners would drunkenly stumble by. Fetching some jewelry and other treasures. 

Suddenly a symphony of wolf whistles filled the room. Brynjolf stopped mid-sip when he saw Allustria coming towards him. 

She was adorned in jewels. A necklace delicately hung from her neck, bracelets at her wrists, rings on her fingers, and golden earrings framed either side of her cheeks. Half of her hair was tied up in a loose bun, held there by a single smooth stick. Bits of silky white hair hung around her face, draping across her shoulders and down her back. 

Her dress was as beautiful and sensual as the elf herself. It had off shoulder sleeves, a small amount of golden green fabric covering her chest, tucked into a corset that snuggly wrapped around her waist. The dress spilled out from the bottom, passing her knees, and barely brushing against the tops of her feet. There was a high slit in the skirt that showed off her long legs. A pair of golden yellow boots adorned her feet, and climbed her leg, settling just past her knees. 

Keeping her eyes on her goal, she completely ignored the mercenaries and guards that approached her, and walked straight to Brynjolf who was still at the bar. Without a stutter, she elegantly placed herself right on his lap, wrapping her hands around his neck. 

“Is this seat taken?” She asked. He laughed, eyes darting between hers. He downed the rest of his drink and wiped his mouth.

“It is now, Lass~” Wrapping his arms around her waist, trapping her. Her heart swelled at his firm grasp on her. She let out a tiny yelp and looked down at him with surprise. He kept his eyes on the crowd, but tightened his grip around her hips, knowing she felt a poke from beneath her.  She blushed and took note that he was a lively one…

————————

The night consisted of merriment and drinks all around, with which Allustria partook of, heavily. Brynjolf decided to keep it minimal with the booze, since she seemed to be extra enthusiastic about it. He thought that someone should keep a level head. Allustria would get up occasionally to go dance at the bard’s music and flirt with the men she noticed eyeing her up. Brynjolf kept watch on her, making sure she wasn’t sloshed enough to be taken advantage of. Normally he’d be jealous, watching her dance around another man. She'd fall in his lap and ruffle his hair before getting up to dance some more. But he noticed her often looking in his direction, as if checking to make sure he was watching her.  It eased his mind.

He oddly found himself enjoying it when she toyed with someone else. Every time he saw someone lingering their eyes on her, he felt the pain of arousal, just wanting her more. One of the onlookers got bold enough to caress his hand up her exposed thigh when she got close. Brynjolf was envious of what those fingertips were feeling. 

Allustria lowered her eyes to the culprit and smiled, but pushed him away with her toes, and gave him a naughty look.

She twirled around, hair swirling in every direction. She had taken her shoes off at some point and found a spot to dance near the fire, being the center of attention. Everyone watched, cheering and clapping to the upbeat tune. She tapped her toes, isolating her hips, moving them expertly, and fluidly maneuvered her wrists through the air. Keeping perfectly in time with the beat.

Bending this way and that, arching her back so she faced the beams, dancing her fingers in the light above her. Brynjolf didn’t know she was so flexible. She spun in place, hair whipping behind her, then stopped on her heel just as the song had ended.

The crowd cheered for her performance. Her chest raised and fell dramatically, showing how out of breath she was. Her skin glistened from a light sweat. A beautiful smile permanently stuck on her face. She blew kisses to the crowd and with a wobbly gait, she took her place next to Brynjolf. 

“I didn’t know you could dance so well,” he nudged. She accepted another drink and leaned her back against the bar.

“I have many talents~” She said with a slight slur in her voice. Perhaps having a few too many. 

———————————-

Time passed. Most of the crowd had dispersed. Hulda was leaning on her elbows, trying not to fall asleep, as she waited for the party goers to hit the hay or head to their homes. A couple drunkards were passed out, sprawled across the floor. Allustria was moments away from being one of them.

“I think it’s time we head to our room, Lass.” Brynjolf helped her to her feet, letting her lean her full weight on him. 

“Nhhhnnnnnnnnn” She mumbled, not helping in any shape or form.

“C’mon, Lass, work with me!” He ended up slinging her arms over his right shoulder and scooping her up, arms wrapped tightly just beneath her butt. He thanked Hulda for the hospitality and carried the elf up the stairs to their private room. 

He plopped her down on the bed and carefully lowered her onto her back. When trying to slip his arm out from under her, she quickly wrapped hers around his neck. He caught himself from almost falling right on top of her. His red hair, messy, and dangling in his face. She breathed deeply and opened her eyes to see him leaning over her. Smiling at the view. 

“Brynjooooolf.” She called, furrowing her eyebrows into a glare. “Why haven’t you kissed me yeeeeeeet?” 

His stomach filled with butterflies.  

“Don’t you like me?” Her lips formed an exaggerated frown.

“Of course I like you.” He replied, softly, and removed her hair stick from its entanglement. He brushed any loose strands away from her eyes and caressed her cheek. Her pout remained.

“Then kiss me…” She sighed, barely able to keep her eyes open. 

“Sorry, Lass… but not when you’re this drunk.” He laughs. “I’m not sure if that’s the booze talking and I don’t want to be wrong.”

“Hmmmnnn….” Her grip loosened around his neck and she let her arms go limp. Brynjolf’s eyes fell to the necklace draped across her collar bones. The top of her dress was tight and looked as though she could spill out of it with any sudden movement. By the Gods he wanted to do as she asked and more. 

“Did you like my show?” She whispered. Eyelids lowering.  “It was all for you…” she cooed.

Never had the butterflies residing in Brynjolf's stomach been so excited. He thought about caving in. Letting his arms give way and meeting her soft lips with his. But not yet. He wanted to be sure of her feelings. 

“I loved it.” He answered, lowering himself ever so slightly. A smile appeared across her lips. He let his fingertips trail down the side of her corset. Fingering the straps, considering loosening them…. So she could sleep more comfortably, of course. 

“Good~” She whispered, finally letting her eyes stay shut. He leaned in a little more and took in a deep breath, letting her scent intoxicate him.  She began to hum softly. Brynjolf's heart beat faster as he dared to inch closer.  The tips of their noses were inches from each other. Tilting his head to the side, he aimed for his goal, but stopped when he noticed her humming turned into soft snores as she fell asleep. 

He sighed, but smiled to himself. He let his shoulders relax and shook his head, shaking off the lust.  He decided that it would be alright to loosen the corset's laces after all. Unraveling the knot and tugging them loose. 

“Goodnight, Lass.” Brynjolf leaned forward and pressed his lips against her forehead instead. He sat up and took another look at her.  “You have no idea how much I want you.” pausing for a moment, he lifts her hand and kisses her delicate fingers. Lingering them to his lips.

Brynjolf reluctantly pulled himself away and bent down, picking up one of his blankets. He unraveled it and laid it on top of her. Then he kicked his shoes off and plopped his rump on his bedroll. He looked up to the rafters and let out a deep sigh, wondering if there was something wrong with him. He laid back, but his mind went on. 

She was just drunk. She’s always a complete flirt. What’s the difference between him and every other male she rests her eyes upon? His heart sank at those thoughts. 

‘Does she actually have feelings for me? Or was it just the booze.’ He debated on that thought for a good while. 

Turning onto his side with his hands tucked under his cheek, he looked over to her. All he could see were the soles of her feet dangling off the side of the bed. However she feels, he’s just glad she’s chosen to spend so much time with him.  

chapter 1 | chapter 2 | chapter 3 | chapter 4 | chapter 5 | chapter 6 | chapter 7 | chapter 8 | chapter 9 | chapter 10 | chapter 11

[skyrim-said-that]

POV; Mercer Freys funeral