#tinvaak

[feyndojun]

VOTH AAN BAHLOK WAH DIIVON FIN LEIN!

Drem yol lok! Greetings, wunduniik. Welcome to my blog.

This is a fandom blog for The Elder Scrolls 5: Skyrim. The blog will include art, various gifsets and images of Skyrim, as well as my own musings as someone learning Dovahzul.

This side-blog is run by an 18+ DID system, who may or may not tag alters on posts at its own discretion.

[midyearflowers]

**slight spoilers for the new stardew update**

so the new stardew update lets you put hats on pets, which is awesome, 10/10 feature

but i use a mod that changes the normal dog texture to the annoying dog from undertale, so the hats dont sit quite right

which is fine, i expected that and dont mind, especially because the results with the sunglasses is hilarious and im not gonna change a thing

and behold, the best idle animation that was practically made for the sunglasses:

[illumiera]

Trick or Treat <3 *dressed as a witch*

happy halloween, and what a fabulous costume! looks like you've won yourself a treat! everyone knows how important wisdom is to any witch, so alongside a chocolate bar of your choice, I hand you a very tiny Paarthurnax to sit on your shoulder (I couldn't lift him while he was full-sized, you see...) 🐉✨

[psychedrawstuff]

On the right is from August 2022. There’s an old adage saying not to give art in need of restoration to the original artist or they’ll completely redo it

The right 2023 update is me giving my dragon boy, Michaelis, a proper gambeson and chainmail shirt, then going all out to make him shinier

[midyearflowers]

i amn just... a litle creacher

i tag everyone who sees this and wants to do it

Saw this going around twitter, looked like fun. What? I'm not procrastinating (I am, I really am)

Make this picrew of yourself

Take this uquiz

Post the results side-by-side. No pressure tags: @alypink, @revnah1406, @madefordvarka, @deadbranch, @welldonekhushi, @kaitaiga, @applbottmjeens, @froglights-and-pearls

[starcoveredmothwings]

thoughts on sparkling water

It Bites Me :{

[feykrorovaan]

Actually Paarthurnax, I would climb all this way for tinvaak with an old dovah.

[jiubilant]

cw: blood

“Do you love your brothers?” asks the priestess of the god Ofaanruvaak.

The god, licking the gore from his great maw, grants her a burning look. He’d caught the god of the hillmen, his brother, winging over his land without tribute or tinvaak—and had named him anew for this insolence, that Ahrolmal who had been Ahrolmul would not again forget who was thur from pines to fens. Nor would the hillmen forget. The priestess, before sending her marshmen to make thralls and crowfood of Ahrolmal’s folk, had painted their faces herself.

Now she stands at the foot of the godsroost as Ofaanruvaak Raven-Gift clambers down. Stones skitter down the slope. The ground trembles like a supplicant. A tree trodden beneath the god’s foot groans, prostrates itself, and snaps like a twig.

“Tell me a riddle,” he croaks, his voice still hoarse with flame. He bends his head. Smoke vents from teeth longer than seaxes. In the gilded hall of Konahrik Jun, hung above the pelt-strewn throne, the priestess had once seen a god’s fang taller than herself.

“My beak is bent to the base of things,” she murmurs, her face as still and wooden as her mask. The answers of her god are often as circular as his paths in flight; she spends her days treading patiently after the shadow of his wisdom, which seldom eclipses her whole. “I go grave along the ground. My going-forth is green on one side, and my track is black—”

“Do they love one another, these words that you speak?” The vast neck coils around her. A breath, or perhaps the heat of the huge eye, scorches her back. “The parts of the lawspeaker’s speech—proposition, examination, refutation—do these love one another, sonaaki?”

“If the speech is wise,” the priestess suggests. Her hand drips with the blood of Ahrolmal, which she had daubed on her warriors’ brows. “If the riddle is glib.”

Her god snorts. A pillar of smoke swirls from his jaws and dissolves in the mist of the night.

“It is a plough,” he says. Like a child studying an ant, he rests his chin on the ground to look the priestess in the face. “Tell another.”

“I have one single eye,” says the priestess, her voice dry. The riddle is one of Konahrik’s. “And two ears, and two hands, and two feet. And twelve hundred heads.”

A pause.

“I do not know this riddle,” says the god.

“A half-blind onion-peddler.”

Ofaanruvaak’s huff of laughter ripples the priestess’s robes. He straightens. He’s not as large as the World-Eater, her god—but his scales, as slick with blood as her sticky hand, are almost as black.

“I love my brothers,” he says, lifting his head higher than the trees, “as you love yours.”

He nods to the western hills. A glow like sunrise crests them: the burning houses of the hillmen, abandoned by their god.

[draaf-luskiitiik]

“You did not come all this way to tinvaak with an old Dovah”

[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)

[aleielle-of-roshar]

as timeline order won the vote, Tinvaak is first! :D

[midyearflowers]

I had a thought:

so like, we know the lotus flower never actually sank to the bottom but was in limbo since runaan wasnt actually dead. but how does it work now that he's back? did the flower just like, rocket up out of the water and startle everyone there? will they go back to silver grove to find ethari already left in search of them?

the mount (forgot what it's called) will have gone back since rayla dismissed them, so maybe that's how they reunite with ethari cause he immediately heads for katolis to see for himself if runaan is there

[nerevar-quote-and-star]

Stay

ao3

Summary: The Dragonborn tells Odahviing why she needs to return to Windhelm, but Odahviing doesn't want her to go. And, perhaps, she doesn't want to go either.

Author's Note: This is purely self-indulgent. I'm kinda hooked on the idea that if Leara was pregnant with Ulfric's baby, Odahviing would steal the baby along with Leara. Leara's kid would have a cool dragon dad.

please I just like parent AUs and I am not sorry

But this isn't a parent AU! This is Rosewing mutual pining at its corniest.

Please enjoy, with extra salsa for your corn chips.

#######

"I'm pregnant."

One lazy dark eye opened to take in the Dragonborn. She was clad in only a linen robe, her long, pale golden legs exposed. She lay in the curve of his neck, her bare toes braced against his muscles and her back against his jaw.

Pregnant?

"Are you ill?" Odahviing asked.

"I suppose I feel a little ill, but I'm all right." His Dovthurjud sighed, her delicate pink mouth falling open. "You'll need to return me to Windhelm."

Hot fire boiled in the red dovah's belly. "Do you wish to return to the Strunkodaav?"

She pressed her face into his, so much smaller and yet so worthy of his adoration. "I must, for the baby."

Odahviing cast his mind back to the moment he took her from the Strunkodaav's city. Exhausted and fragile, a snowflake threatening to shatter. She climbed on his back then, despite the guardsman's plea for her to consider what the Jarl would want. Reason said the Jarl did not want the Dovahkiin flying off with a dovah at the flap of a wing. That had been two months ago. If Odahviing returned ber to the Strunkodaav, she would not come back. He could not, would not let his Dovthurjud return to life as a weapon for mey joor paar.

Not now, not after the tinvaak of their zii together.

Odahviing curled his tail closer, encircling the Dovahkiin, his heart heavy. She was Judsedov. If she commanded him, he would carry her to the Strunkodaav and never return. He prayed to Bormahu that she did not wish that of him. His soul would wither, feim zii, and there would be no return.

Odahviing growled.

She was on her knees beside him, her long cool fingers stroking the soft scales in the hollow of his cheek. "What is it?"

He was silent a moment longer, basking in the feel of his Dovthurjud's hands on him, stroking him.

Ah, if only she understood what she meant to him! But the minds of joorre are finite, even those with the Sossedov.

Hi los dii zii yol.

The fire in Odahviing's chest raged. He could not tell her that. He turned his head away from her hands.

The Dovahkiin stood and at once Odahviing felt the loss of her proximity. From the corner of his eye, he watched her leave the protective ring of his body, her feet padding against the dusty stone of Skuldafn's high fane. Her head was bowed behind a curtain of chestnut curls.

"You don't have to tell me if you don't want to, mon coeur fidèle." Behind her veil, her smile was ever present, but Odahviing could not face it. "I'll get my things."

Then his Dovthurjud was gone. Odahviing coiled into a tighter ball. He did not wish her to leave. He needed her to stay. Her and . . .

The Junsedov was with child. The Strunkodaav's child. And she was returning to the mey joor for the sake of her kiir.

But, did she have to? What awaited monah and kiir in the Strunkodaav's Hofkahsejun but an eternity bound to joor paar and a life away from the lok se Keizaal?

Stones trembled as Odahviing jarred to his feet. His wings drug behind him as he crossed the high fane to the dwelling of the sonaak. His Dovthurjud had sheltered in there from the day he brought her to Skuldafn, her joor slen too delicate to withstand the frigid nights and harsh winds for long. She took Nahkriin's home as she took his mask, her strun sweeping through and cleansing the traces of the old order away.

"Ysmir," he rumbled, standing outside her door.

After a moment, it creaked open. The Dovahkiin's face was pale, her eyes wide and ringed red. "What's wrong?"

Odahviing teetered on the edge. There were many things he had not told her, but his pride would not allow him to let her go back to the Strunkodaav unaware. "I do not wish you to leave."

She stared at him. "But I cannot stay. Ulfric . . . the Jarl needs to know about, about the baby." Her eyes fluttered closed, but a tear still escaped to wind down her cheek. Odahviing did not miss it.

"Does he?" the dragon rumbled low in his throat.

"We-well, of course he does." Another tear, chased by a third and a fourth. "This is his heir. He'll want them safe and, he'll want them there. With him."

Lowering his head, Odahviing pressed his snout against the gentle swell of his Dovthurjud's breast. Her small warmth was a balm against his boiling thoughts. With hesitant hands, she ran her thin fingers over over the ridges of his nose. Her rosy mouth was twisted in a grimace, as if pained. Odahviing's soul stung at the sight.

"What do you desire, Ysmir?"

"I—" Her eyes were still closed, but the tears were coming down soft and fast now. "I don't—"

A gentle purr rumbled out of the red dovah's throat as his Dovthurjud pressed her face into his snout, her arms stretched around him as far as she could reach. Then her knees buckled and Odahviing was the only thing between her and the cold flagstones.

"Kunziiyol," he whispered.

She let out a sob. "I can't leave, I can't—"

"Kunziiyol."

"Mon coeur." He felt her lips press like a brand against his snout. "Je t'aime."

He did not understand. The Judsedov said many things in some joor tinvaak that he did not comprehend, but her voice soothed the inferno in his spirit. "Kunziiyol."

Her hands fisted against his scaled ridges. Then she spoke, her voice so low that he only caught the vibrations of it through the air: "I don't want to leave you."

The dovah hummed.

"Odahviing, please." She lifted her head, her pale golden face shining with tears. "Ask me again?"

Ask her . . .

"Stay."

Her lips were on his scales again, again and again as she ran them in a hot trail across his face. "Yes, yes, I'll stay."

Warmth bloomed like sunlight in Odahviing's chest, golden and all-consuming. His Dovthurjud, his, and her kiir, she would stay, both of them.

Slipping his tongue from his mouth, he slid it passed the folds of his Dovthurjud's robe. Encircling her leg, he ran it up the silkin skin and pulled her legs against him. The Dovahkiin gasped, slipping forward along his snout as he lifted her. "Why do you want me to stay?" she asked, breathless as her weight settled over him.

Holding her aloft, a growl tumbled out of his throat. His Dovthurjud's eyes squeezed shut and she moaned, her mouth falling open. In response, his tongue constricted around her thighs, cradling the swell of her below the hips.

"Why . . . " she tried again, her voice trailing off in a groan.

He could not speak, not with her form enfolded in his tongue, with the taste of her on his lips, in his mouth . . . He could taste the changes in her body on her skin, though they were not yet visible to the eye. With her supported against him, he moved away from the sonaak's dwelling, carrying her to the ruins of the portal to Sovngarde, now sealed. Settling in the epicenter of the crater, he lowered the Dovahkiin to the ground, drawing his tongue back from the warmth of her skin. She slid to the ground, her legs disappearing beneath the pale linen of her robe. Odahviing reared his head back to take her in. Joor though she was, she was the Judsedov, his Kunziiyol. His.

Tears still stained her face, but there was a light in her eyes, a bright koor where before there was a brooding strun.

"Odahviing."

He bowed his head, settling it before her on the ground. Almost at once, her hands were stroking him again. "Do you not know?"

"Tell me."

As the Judsedov commanded, he must obey.

"You are my Dovthurjud, the great queen over all the dov."

She hummed, a chestnut curl trailing its way over her shoulder to settle on her breast where her robe fell open. Offhand, Odahviing noticed that she had not worn her wrapping. Just as she wore nothing about her hips.

"You are my Kunziiyol."

"What does that mean?" she asked, quick, eager.

Odahviing blew warm air against her, ruffling her curls and exposing the slender curve of her neck and shoulder. "You are the firelight burning in my soul."

"Odahviing, please." Her hands never stopped their gentle motion. "I don't understand what that means, but I, I think I have an idea, and I need to tell you something," she pursed her lips, her own small tongue poking between her teeth.

He could taste her emotions on the air, rising and full where earlier she was dampened. He could not bear for her to be so again.

"I don't want to take my baby back to Windhelm." She kissed him. "Maybe it's the way I left or because of the time we've spent here, but I, I don't want to leave you. I can't. Ulfric can do without me because I find I cannot do without you."

He breathed on her again, his warm breath flushing her skin.

"Odahviing," she whispered, leaning her head against his. "Mon coeur, I love you."

Kogaan Akatosh, but he loved her too.

[kookaburra1701]

Last Line Challenge

tagged by @dumpsterhipster and @nientedenada

Post the last line of a current WIP and then tag the same number of people as there are words in the line.

Um, wow is this challenge good for telling you to shorten up your sentences already. I had to comb through my WIP pile to find a last line that wasn't longer than my list of mutuals.

"We fly for Volume Seven," said Miraak as he mounted Sahrotaar's neck. "We will tinvaak on the way."

@gilgamish @thana-topsy @dirty-bosmer @newwillinium @tallmatcha @ms-katonic-of-tamriel @moriche @dwellerinroots @expended-sleeper @lyriumspectre @totally-not-deacon @avantegarda @wispstalk @sylvienerevarine @turbo-toast @earthal @mareenavee @sithis-has-no-balls

[monsterfuckerconfessions]

Daddy Partysnacks can tinvaak with me anytime 😊🥵

.

[simplymiraakulous]

paarthurnax: ah, you would not come all this way for tinvaak with an old dovah… 😔

valialinde, tearing up: i’M SORRY I WOULD HAVE COME SOONER IF I KNEW YOU WERE UP HERE-