outoutdamnspark

[outoutdamnspark]

Spit Blood When I Wake Up

Martin Septim/Azralath Aevitas (Imperial Hero of Kvatch) CW: none

<- Previous | Part 2 of Take Me Back to Eden | -> Next (coming soon)

Based on the way Jauffre immediately tells you to go back to the Imperial City after getting to Cloud Ruler Temple. (I swear I'm not trying to villainize Jauffre - stressful situations can make people tense and forgetful.)

Title is from Take Me Back to Eden by Sleep Token.

“You should already be on your way back to the Imperial City,” Jauffre scolds, his pale brows furrowed in concern as he looks at the Hero of Kvatch like a disappointed teacher. “You need to get moving, we’ve got no idea when the enemy will make their next move.”

Martin watches as Miss Aevitas lays a heavy hand on the chair back beside her, her soot-smeared face blank and her frost-blue eyes half-lidded. She nods groggily as Jauffre chastises her for not having left yet and suddenly Martin cannot control his tongue.

“Now wait a minute!” he interjects, just as Miss Aevitas’ own adopted father makes a sound of indignation from atop the bookshelf he’s perched himself on.

Jauffre startles slightly and looks to Martin in mild confusion, while Miss Aevitas wearily shifts her gaze between the three of them.

“Sire?”

Martin shakes his head at Jauffre, waving a hand at Miss Aevitas, who watches his gesture, and then his face. 

“She’s more than earned the right to rest for a bit!” Martin says, pooling anything he can gather from within himself that might pass as even remotely authoritative. “The moment she got to Kvatch, she went straight into Oblivion to close the gate - and from what I’ve heard, she was in there for damn near a full day! And then she fought her way through what was left of the city to make sure myself and the other survivors could make it out safely, then walked with me through the night to get to the priory! She hasn’t slept in the entire time I’ve been in her company, and you want to send her running off again without so much as allowing her to sit down?”

Jauffre stays silent as Martin snaps, exhaustion and the remnants of pent-up adrenaline and just… everything he’s been compartmentalizing for the past forty-eight hours. Martin wishes he could snap at someone on his own behalf as well, but right now he’s running on the last dregs of his sanity and his only outlet is righteous upset for the one person that’s managed anything productive among the group.

“I don’t know what came before her arrival at Kvatch, but from what he’s told me…” (and here Martin nods towards the Bosmer moving to stand beside Miss Aevitas and wrapping his arm around her like any protective father figure should do for his brave, utterly exhausted daughter) “...they came straight from the priory and into hell to find me.”

“Can confirm,” the Bosmer man - whose name Martin still doesn’t know, and has only ever heard referred to as ‘me da’ by Miss Aevitas - pipes up, a feral scowl upon his face. “Straight from the priory to Kvatch, half of it on foot, with no breaks.” He bares his teeth at Jauffre, sharp and jagged, tilting his head so that his antlers catch in the firelight like a threat.

Martin simply gestures towards the Bosmer man in emphasis, looking to Jauffre as if to say, ‘you see?’

Jauffre, thankfully, looks at least a bit remorseful of his words, because he turns a worried frown towards Miss Aevitas as though seeing just how worn down she is for the very first time.

Unfortunately, Miss Aevitas then has to go and try to negate it all by quietly slurring, “...’m fine.”

Which. No. She is clearly not.

“Sure you are, cub,” the Bosmer says, dry sarcasm pooling between his teeth as he pats her on the shoulder. He’s barely tall enough to reach her collar bones at full height, but as he stands beside her there is little doubt of their family ties in the way he moves to angle himself between the Blades’ Grandmaster and his own hornless human daughter as though to defend her from the rest of the world. 

“Go sit.”

And Miss Aevitas, strong and sturdy and stubborn, wilts like a dying flower under her father’s command and sinks into the nearest chair.

Jauffre purses his lips as he watches the small group of protestors, his gaze slipping from Martin to Miss Aevitas to the Bosmer man and then back to Miss Aevitas. “I… apologize,” he says stiffly, awkwardly, obviously off-kilter. “Of course. You’ve done more than enough so far, I… the circumstances are… not ideal. Forgive me for my callousness.” 

The Bosmer goes to open his mouth - no doubt to insist that his daughter will be staying put for the time being, and to possibly offer himself for the mission in order to spare her the sleepless night - but the sound of clattering drowns him out. 

Sharp and sudden, metal upon stone, Miss Aevitas’ armor smacks against the floor with an almighty crash as she falls sideways out of her chair like a rag doll.

“AZRALATH!” the Bosmer shouts, darting forward to try and catch what’s already fallen, reaching to shield her head from damage, at the same time that Martin drops to his knees with hands outstretched, the glow of restoration magic weaving between his fingers without conscious thought.

She does not wake for nearly a day, and Baurus, patient and reliable in the Imperil City, is not contacted for another two.

[outoutdamnspark]

About ten years ago I was living in a completely different state, just off a highway, with no greenery and no break from the relentless sun-baked asphalt of an town with nothing to offer except consumerism. I was utterly miserable and slowly heading for rock bottom when I came back up to my home state for a friend's engagement party at one of the state parks, and I drove through a tree tunnel lined with the colors of autumn and October's long shadows.

I felt my lips part and whisper to my own ears, "oh. My soul is starving."

We moved back up home to a greener, less lonely place a year later, running from the eternally dirty, yellowed, sun-bleached highway town as fast as we possibly could.

Just last month, I was nearing my second year at a sales floor job, working too many hours for too little compensation and absolutely zero thanks. I hated waking up to my alarm, telling me it was time for another ten-hour shift at a place that blamed me for every cent not made, and customers that would come in simply to waste my time or phone-call-fires from other stores that needed to be put out.

An unstable man - clearly on drugs - came in once while I was by myself, trapping me behind the desk while he scratched the skin off his ankle and tried to take my phone, talking into the wall because, "they knew he was there and they were hiding from him."

The district manager told me I had to stay, and to "lock one of the doors if I felt unsafe". He never once asked me if I was okay, even after my spouse called the police for me when I couldn't find a way to safely do it myself.

They fired me a couple weeks after.

But...

Now...

There's something like coming home - something only found in the back of a theatre, a 'temporary' job at the place my dear friend works that needed extra help during their current musical. A college degree no longer sitting and rotting on the wall above my desk.

The smell of the costume shop. The creak of the wooden stage beneath my feet in the dark as we scramble from stage left to stage right with props in our hands. The sound of crackling voices in my ear, saying, "five to places" - "thank you, five". The hush in the green room as the actors take a breather between acts, sip their water, and thank their techies for making their lives easier.

One of them, in passing, as we leave to take our spots in the catwalk, high above the crowd, sweaty hands gripping the handles of the spotlights tight, calls to me - he doesn't even yet know my name, I'm so new while the other crew are so familiar to them.

"You light up my night!" he jokes.

Another, half in costume, doughnut in hand, tells me I'm doing great. He shows me the pokemon pins on his bag, asks me what my favorite typing is, gets excited when his and mine are the same.

The lead actress lets me pet her dog and 'awwwww!'s at the cute story I tell her of the little girl in the aisle off stage left waiting to meet the character she plays.

The lead techie has the same haircut I do. We talk in the parking lot for an hour after opening night. They went to the same college, recognize my major, tell me their work stories and ask for mine. They wait for me in their truck to make sure I get out of the parking lot safely after the lightboard operator sticks her head out the door and tells us to go home and rest before tomorrow's fourteen hour shift.

They add me to a group chat the next day, with themselves, the lightboard lady, and the other spotlight operator.

I go back to my apartment after midnight, clocked in at 10:30am and out at 12:15am, and - for the first time in years - I don't feel tired.

My soul was starving. But now I'm home.

[outoutdamnspark]

a single typo literally has the explosive power of a nuclear bomb like i just read back possibly the most beautiful scene ive ever created feeling so proud of myself ready to start thinking about the nobel prize in literature etc. etc. and then suddenly

“It’s oaky,” he whispered.

it’s oaky. what is this. a wine tasting

[outoutdamnspark]

No One Told Me Not To Breathe

Martin Septim/Azralath Aevitas (Imperial Hero of Kvatch) CW: none

Part I of Take Me Back to Eden | -> Next

Inspired by the way Martin looks at your character if you stand near him while he's being introduced at Cloud Ruler Temple. Title is from Take Me Back to Eden by Sleep Token.

Martin stands at the top of the path to the temple - to Cloud Ruler Temple, the safe haven for the royal family and the Blades that guard them - and now, only him.

The path isn’t a long one, it isn’t a winding road or a steep mountain path, it’s a simple stone-paved walkway at the top of two bits of stairs and a landing, but Akitosh does it feel like the longest he’s ever walked in his life. He turns, and facing him in two neat rows like pieces on a game board, are the Blades. His Blades.

He thinks he might be sick, actually. 

He’s never truly been an anxious man, but his nerves are more than frayed after such a grueling couple of days, and he still hasn’t slept more than an hour or two since that horrible night in Kvatch. And to learn he’s the new emperor, the last remaining son of Emperor Uriel Septim VII… He doesn't even want to think about it - not now, at any rate. 

Jauffre stands just beside him and addresses the Blades, gives them Martin’s name, calls him by his blood-father’s regal surname, and Martin feels himself forget to take every other breath. Gods. How is he meant to do this? How is he supposed to lead an entire empire when all he’s ever known is the life of a farmer’s son? All regrettable decisions and past worships aside, he’s never had any sort of formal, royal training - he doesn’t know what he’s doing. 

Jauffre finishes speaking, looking to Martin expectantly, and all the Blades look to him as well, the final chorus of ‘Hail!’ like the echo of a fired bowstring in the cold mountain air. 

Martin feels the chill of Bruma’s snow freeze his lungs as he takes in a breath involuntarily. He’s… he’s supposed to speak, isn’t he? That’s what emperors do - they give speeches, they address their subjects. He looks from one face to another, then another, and another, until he’s looked at all of them, acknowledged all of them, but no matter what he does no words will come. These people are strangers, looking to him like he’s their savior and he can’t think of anything to say…

Footsteps.

Armored. Heavy. Heavier than the Blades’ boots. 

They come up beside him, pause, shift, stop.

He turns his head like a shooting star towards the gravitational pull of Nirn’s orbit and sees her. 

She is haggard, dirty, soot-faced, splattered in mud and ash and grime, having had no chance to wash the filth of Oblivion’s wastes from her skin, but she’s there - the only person among the small crowd that he knows, even just a little, even if only by a single day ahead of all the others that he’s met just now, has yet to meet, can see before him but does not yet know their names. 

Miss Aevitas. Azralath. The Hero of Kvatch, herself. His anchor through this whole insane journey so far, his beacon of light in that dark, dark night of Kvatch’s destruction. Hope, incarnate. 

It’s her they should be praising, not him. It’s her that’s done something to halt the tide of bloodshed, her that’s risked her life to save so many others already. Martin is merely a man - supposedly with holy dragon’s blood within his veins - but she is more. She is fire and fury and courage and everything he wishes he could harness for this moment and the upcoming trials beyond. An inspiration - whereas he… what even has he done so far? He held fast the chapel doors as the few survivors of his home’s razing cowered and prayed and looked to the heavens to help them. Martin had done what he could - but Azralath… 

Azralath had done everything.

She pauses near him, beside him but not directly, petting the muzzle of her borrowed paint horse and looking for all the world like a fraying banner in the wind - proud and steadfast despite the wear and tear.

He looks to her, as he did when she’d come to him in the darkest hour man had ever seen, in the depths of despair and destruction and death - he looks to her the way the Blades look to him right now to lead them in the not-so-distant future. 

And he finds the words to finally speak. 

She watches him as he gives what might be the most awkward speech of his life, and from the corner of his eye he watches her in return, her eyes as blue as ice and deep as rain clouds, a constant reminder of how he’s even here.  

He turns to her when he’s done and the Blades are satisfied with his acknowledgement. He huffs in tired, self-deprecating laughter that holds no mirth and only fatigue, makes the observation that no one seemed to mind that his speech was… what it was. And the smile he receives in return is just as exhausted, but proud.

And Martin has never felt so at ease after something so nerve-wracking in his life as when she smiles at him.

“Thank you, my friend,” he murmurs, barely audible over the sound of the Blades’ heavy armored footfalls around him as they go back to their duties or ready the fortress or whatever else he doesn’t feel like bothering to think about. It’s not his priority. Not this. Not now.

Miss Aevitas - Azralath - smiles just a bit wider.

“Yer welc’me,” she replies, quiet and heavily accented and rough from lack of sleep.

There’s no cow-towing, no hailing of the new emperor; just a soft exhale and a sympathetic nod.

She responds to him like a person, like a human, like a man - and Martin cannot think of a time when he’s found it easier to breathe.

[outoutdamnspark]

Mew y two

[outoutdamnspark]

*WHEEZE*

I'm alive, I promise.

I'm gonna try to focus on reblogging and making new posts going forward, and make this the last life update post for a while, since that's all my blog has become for like. A year.

I don't even know if anyone will read this since I've vanished and possiblyaccidentally burned so many bridges by doing so but hhhhhhhhhhh here we are

Sooooooo... Guess who lost their job?

Good news, at least, is that my Bachelor's Degree in Theatrical Design Tech isn't going to waste anymore, because my buddy works at a dinner theatre and found out they needed more backstage techies - WHICH I AM - so now I'm about to start a new, less soul-sucking job this week. Long hours, but my GODS I'm excited in a way I haven't felt in forever.

P L U S

Oblivion Remastered is out and my soul couldn't be fucking happier - that game means so, so incredibly much to me, and getting to revisit Cyrodiil has actually brought back some writing inspiration that I haven't had in... way too long.

So yeah.

Currently warming up with some Martin/HoK and Lucien/Silencer stuff right now, so stayb tuned for some Oblivion stuff here soon, including a couple of introductions to my Hero of Kvatch and Dark Brotherhood Silencer ocs: Azralath and Nephathyle, respectively.

Anyway.

Love you~

[outoutdamnspark]

Sending love to everyone who is just... tired. Life is a lot, and sometimes the answer to it all is to just be still and silent for a while. Give yourself space and grace. Whether it’s decision fatigue, anxiety fatigue, information fatigue, routine fatigue, getting life back together fatigue, career fatigue, social fatigue, financial fatigue, or physical fatigue—take a moment to breathe and recharge. You deserve it.

[outoutdamnspark]

new year's resolutions

- don't die

- get even gayer

- get an even weirder gender

- reach out to my friends more

[outoutdamnspark]

Daily Writing Prompt

[outoutdamnspark]

Come back, I have to tell you the plot of a fic I’ll never write and get you excited about it so we can all be disappointed with me later

[outoutdamnspark]

Aight.

Kinda tipsy. Gonna try something.

I need to work my way back up into writing, I think, so I'm gonna crack open The 3am Epiphany by Brian Kiteley (my favorite writing exercise book) and pull up a random number generator and write some shit about some OCs.

Cuz why not. Good place to start, I think.

[outoutdamnspark]

Hi 👋, My name is Mohammad, and I’m reaching out in a moment of desperate need. I’m a father of three young children living in Gaza, and we are caught in the midst of a catastrophic war. Our home is no longer a safe haven, and the future here seems increasingly uncertain. 💔

I’ve launched a fundraising campaign with the goal of raising $40,000 to relocate my family to a safer place where my children can grow up in peace and have a chance at a brighter future.

Unfortunately, my previous fundraising efforts were abruptly halted when my account was terminated without explanation. However, I remain determined to keep fighting for my family’s safety and well-being. 🫶

If you could take a moment to read our story, consider donating, or simply share our campaign with others, it would make an incredible difference. Every act of kindness, no matter how small, brings us one step closer to safety and a new beginning. 🙏

Thank you for your time, compassion, and support. ❤️‍🩹

https://gofund.me/fd1faea2 🔗

Signal boost!

[outoutdamnspark]

Dear Supporter,

I hope this message finds you and your family in good health. My name is Eman Zaqout from Gaza. I am reaching you out to seek your urgent help in spreading the word about our fundraiser. I lost both my home and my job due to the ongoing genocide in Gaza and we are facing catastrophic living conditions. 💔

I kindly ask you to visit my campaign. Your support, whether through donating or sharing, will help us reach more people who can make a difference. Thank you for your continued support for the Palestinian cause. Your dedication brings us closer to freedom. 🙏🕊

Note: Verified by several people as 90-ghost and aces-and-angels. ☑

https://gofund.me/b141d50f 🔗

Signal boost!

[outoutdamnspark]

Y'all.

Oh my gods, I can't even begin to say what my emotions are doing right now - Happy New Year to meeeeeee!!!!!!

I got a blood test done a couple of weeks ago to determine my genetic predisposition to different cancers (several immediate members of both sides of my family have had several different kinds of cancer, including both parents) and I just got my test results back today.

I'm 0 out of 53 tested genes. All Negative.

I'm not predisposed to any of the specific cancers I was tested for.

Am I 100% out of the woods? Probably not. But I've spent my entire life expecting a cancer diagnosis to be a matter of when and not if, so to see a full set of negatives just.

I cried.

I cried, y'all.

This also means I don't have to worry about surgery just yet, holy shit.

HAPPY NEW YEAR, Y'ALL!!!!!

May your year be as amazing as mine just started as!!! <3 <3 <3

[outoutdamnspark]

Okay well.

Clearly I didn't get a chance to do the October writing challenge I was hoping I could do; I actually tried to start on it, but uhhhhhhhh. Somebody turned my laptop off on accident and evidently nothing I wrote was saved, so I got discouraged and gave up.

I sort of hate that my blog has basically entirely turned into a sporadic life update blog, but at this point I'm just writing off this year entirely and hoping for a fresh start come January.

So. A tl;dr-style update from October to Now:

Got transferred for work again.

Fucked up my leg and had to walk with a cane for several weeks.

Wound up being the primary bachelor/bachelorette party planner for my friends' wedding.

Friends got married.

IMMEDIATELY followed by a sale weekend at work.

Several 6-day work weeks.

Mom had surgery and I went to stay with her for a week. (The day of surgery began at 4am with a power outage and is a whole story in and of itself.)

IMMEDIATELY followed by the Black Friday sale weekend, which included another 5-day work week and several 12+ hour days.

Mom got sick. Visited her again to make sure she was okay.

Both my partners got sick.

Friends that just got married just had to put their cat to sleep.

Currently fighting extreme burn-out, depression, and a minor slip back into self-medicating with alcohol. I was borderline alcoholic for several years about a decade ago, and every so often it comes creeping back.

ᕕ( ᐛ )ᕗ

I was supposed to get three days off in a row starting January 1st but now I'm getting only one day off, so as soon as I'm able to put in PTO requests for 2025, I'm manually taking a couple days away from work to try and recover.

That's... about all I've got for now.

For anyone still here, I love you. I'll see you in 2025.

[outoutdamnspark]

Genuinely, I think one of the most fun and crunchy things about any character is

How far they will go for things they want

What they will do to get things they want

Things they won't do, no matter how much they want what they'd get in exchange

Because these things tell you some very important things about the character, namely their limits, their price, and their absolute No's. (And it lets you create some really REALLY crunchy conflict)

[outoutdamnspark]

Continue✨ Keep going✨