#and meeting ancano

[zuutiomi]

Smth of Mikayla’s lore bc I talk about Feli and Altrus but not her much

[maxs-hot-takes]

I present: a collection of my TES PonyTown skins

Which ones should I do next???

[asktheseacowvboys]

Guhhh didn't do my prompts yesterday bc I wanted to game

Gotta do 2 today

[jiubilant]

cw: horror elements

He’d been a scrib of three, sticky-fingered and clinging to his sister’s skirts like an anther-burr, when first he saw a war-wasp of the Dres. In less than seven years they’d be extinct: their cliff-hives burnt, their grubs smeared across singed flagstones or speared wriggling on An-Xileel pikes. But it had been a bright morning—the dust had glittered in the air like motes of kanet, like the specks the goldsmiths blow off their tables—and the messenger from Bal Foy had circled his glorious mount three times above the marketplace, like a victorious chap’thil, before landing her in the middle of the street.

“Give her a pat,” he’d said, laughing, to the children clustering round—and the adults, too, a few merchants and house-servants whose stern faces broke with smiles. “She’s polite, my Khes.”

He ran, that scrib of three—not towards the great wasp grooming her feelers in that circle of hands, as oblivious to her admirers’ attentions as Benitah, but to a basket of comberries abandoned at a fruit-seller’s stall. The first fistful he stuffed in his mouth. The second he stretched above his head, high as he could reach.

“Khes!” he’d called, his voice shrill and garbled with fruit. He remembers the moment even now. Juice dribbling down his wrist. Dust in his throat. His little heart surging upward with that cry, as if on jeweled wings. “Khes!”

The wasp turned her alien head, broad and shining as a bonemold shield. Her feelers whiskered over him. Out flicked her wings once, twice: sheer and strong as wevet, fluted like stained glass into a thousand fiery panes.

“Hold your hand out flat, hla!” the messenger called.

He did. The mouthparts that could crush a Nordling breastplate descended to meet it. Delicately, like a lady reaching into a bowl with finger and thumb, the wasp took a single berry from his palm.

* * *

He wakes in his cold dormitory cell feeling stiff, sore, and improbably cheerful. Mzulft and its horrors, the Synod included, are behind him; it’s up to Mirabelle, now, to decide what to do with what they’ve learned. A magic staff in Hjaalmarch—perhaps the first item of import, he thinks with amusement, to ever come out of Hjaalmarch. And the Thalmor know nothing about it. And he’s rising late from a bed, not a bedroll, with the fading idea that he’d dreamed something pleasant.

“She’s stung me to the heart,” he sings in soft Velothis over his washbasin, scraping off the journey’s stubble with his shaving-knife. The ancient song comes to him in snatches, like the dream. “She’s stung me, jewel of the sky, armored queen of the valleys of the Shir”—someone raps on his door, probably one of the prentices with a question about a translation, and he takes some smiling liberties with the next line—“one moment, per favore, s'il vous plaît—”

“Break it down,” says a curt voice.

The door crashes open. He makes a startled, absurd swipe with his shaving-knife at the first of the intruders—black robes, beaky buttons that glint gold in the firelight—before a burst of magic shivers through him like heat-lightning. He hears a thump. Himself, he realizes with belated surprise, hitting the chilly floor.

“Is he immobilized?” the voice asks pleasantly.

A chorus of subordinate voices, at least three: “Yes, Secretary.”

They’ve never gone this far, thinks the man on the floor, struggling to budge limbs that have gone rigid and heavy as kedge-anchors. Something’s emboldened them at last. A heavy-gloved hand dips into the neck of his nightshirt and fishes out his Company chain.

“Justiciar Ancano was right!” the young Dominion agent attached to the hand exclaims. He dangles the pendant in the light. “East Empire Company. A factor’s clerk. A pleasure, Master”—he squints at the inscription on the copper, above the tarnished ship—“Ramo, to properly make your acquaintance.”

That’s right, the clerk thinks. They’d bungled his name on the thing. Probably in the records, too. A laugh escapes his spell-sealed lips as a stifled huff.

“Kick him,” the pleasant voice suggests. “Oh, cousin. To scribble and scrape for the mayfly enterprises of men!”

Someone does kick him. He finds himself facedown on the hearth, seeing nothing, hearing creaks and thumps and curses as the Thalmor toss his room. One rummages through his sea-chest, takes something out, slams it. His ewer shatters. Floorstones scrape in protest as they’re pried up; the thieves’ Altmeri chatter grows excited, then. They must have found his papers. The clerk scrabbles through his mind for what little Altmeris he knows—

“Closer to the fire,” says the pleasant one in Cyrod, perhaps for his benefit. The clerk’s heart petrifies like his limbs. “He fell. A terrible accident. Put his cane—yes, there. As if he’d been trying to reach it.”

Someone drags him closer to the hearth. Flings his arm into it like a peat-brick. The heat bakes his hand. “I can seal his heart-valves to be sure—”

“Don’t be a fool,” snaps the pleasant one. “That shrieking cat who heads up Restoration would notice. Let us defer, out of respect for our cousin, to Velothi custom—”

The click of the closing door.

The silence.

He can breathe, the clerk thinks, breathing fast. He can blink. Involuntary motions, then, are not suppressed by the spell—only those that he wills. Sitting up. Crying out. Smothering the fire nibbling, with increasing interest, at his sleeve.

It was once said of the war-wasps of the Dres, he recalls with faint amusement, that the venom of their stings worked much the same. One was advised, perhaps as a way to bide one’s time before the end, to battle the enervation in increments: try wriggling a finger. A toe.

Something pops in the fire. The cell begins to smell of smoke and singed hair. He wonders whether the jerk of a limb exposed to flame, to that sharp, betraying sting, is involuntary—no, it seems not. The pain scourges his arm, his ear, the side of his head.

A finger, he thinks, concentrating all his awareness of his body into the palm of his lifeless hand. A toe. A terrible accident, they’ll say when they find him. Don’t think it. Hold your hand out flat, hla—

A strained rap on the door. “Magister?”

Relief crashes through him where the magic holds him fast. His thumb twitches free of the spell. It makes less noise than a crumb of peat shifting in the hearth.

“Magister,” calls the voice, dear and strangely small, “the—the Master Wizard, she wants you in the quadrangle—”

“Brelyna,” a familiar brogue interrupts, “J’zargo does not think he’s in.”

Her voice rises nearly to a wail. “Where is he, then—”

They’re going, the clerk thinks, gripped by a panic more searing than the flames climbing his sleeve. His hand jerks. It hits his cane, which the Thalmor had propped so tellingly on the fireplace-jamb.

The cane wobbles. He holds his breath.

Then, with a magnificent scrape, it clatters to the floor.

A silence.

“Is it unlocked?” asks Brelyna.

The creak of the door. A gasp. The panicked squeak of boots. Then someone throws the contents of the washbasin on him: a shocking blue chill, like a plunge in pack ice. He breathes out. His shaving-knife swirls past his head on a runnel of suds.

“Turn him over.” J’zargo’s voice, sharp as claws. “Is he dead?”

“I don’t think so.” Magic crackles in the air above his head. “I, I think he’s—didn’t Master Neloren show us how to dispel this? Let me try—”

Something heavy and sluggish evaporates from the clerk's bones. He stirs with some difficulty, blinking soap from his eyes, and finds himself in a circle of worried hands: J’zargo lifting his head, Onmund buffeting the last of the fire, Brelyna slapping his ridiculous half-shaved face.

“Hlai,” he rasps, laughing, trying to raise his arms to fend them off. They’ll beat him to death. Ai, a terrible accident. “Hlai, I’m not a rug—”

“You look a rug,” snaps Onmund, terse as ever. The clerk recalls that he’s wearing the nightshirt patterned with fleurs. “What happened? Who spelled you?”

The less they know, the better. The clerk flexes his hands, then his face, breathing with great care around the boot-shaped ache in his side. “Shouldn’t you”—the fire’s ghost gnaws his arm when he bends it, and he winces—“be in class?”

“In class?” Onmund sits him up so roughly that they nearly knock heads. The boy’s hands, the clerk realizes with a start, are shaking. “We were in class. Don’t you know what’s happening outside?”

Brelyna sits back in the mess of hearth-ash and washwater, rubbing her crumpling face with both hands. Her voice wavers like a shrill flute. “I thought you were dead, too.”

“Too?” The clerk, blistered and dripping, stares at his pupils. “Who’s dead?”

A muscle jumps in Onmund’s ashen face. J’zargo flattens his ears and looks away. It’s Brelyna, choking on overwhelmed tears, who answers.

“The Archmage,” she sobs. Outside, muffled by the dormitory walls, a scream pitches above the cries of gulls. “The Archmage.”

[veilody]

POV: You’re just a little hater

With Nere and… myself. Since it was like meeting Ancano from Skyrim all over again. 😂 Also, yes. i would be a Goblin.

I am still crying that Tav can’t be a Gobbo (without mods)

AND?!

[idalynsskyrimdiaries]

Why I Should Never Meet Skyrim Characters - Part One

Ancano: I have many important things on my mind. Your concerns are not among them.

Me: I can tell, I wonder if I rub my hand on that forehead, I'll be able to see my future

[ego-osbourne]

Baudehk and Kilkell!

//click for better image quality//

So I found out what ruinachs and havocrels were and couldn’t resist. Say what you will about ESO, but they gave some very solid daedric expansion that I am always happy to read about.

So, meet Baudehk and Kilkell! Baudehk is a ruinach, the self-disgraced ex-soldier of one of the Deadlands’ most famous clans — he steals a sigil stone for Ego and Ancano during Winterhold. Kilkell is a havocrel, the wandering Prince-pleaser who is rumored to have fulfilled a contract under every Daedric Prince — she meets Ego in the Myriad during Hearts Day!

For Ego’s Mara agent initiation, they have to introduce people to love, and they do so by pairing these two together :] They help each other find their new purpose in life.

[wellthebardsdead]

An au where Kaidan falls for Caryalind & Taliesin refuses to let marigolds chronic affliction steal him away from his heart. And I’m so tempted to make this his canon story you have no idea!!!

———

Marigold: *smiles looking out the window at the city streets, the whole of whiterun, all of skyrim celebrating his victory against the world eater. His friends all dancing and enjoying the festivities. Only for his stomach to drop as he witnesses two of them, ruining his plans* Wh-what?… *presses his hands to the window in shock as he sees Kaidan & Caryalind, both drawing in close to one another as they dance, their eyes joining each others gaze long before their lips meet* No! NO NO! *sobs feeling panic and heartache fill his chest as he pounds his fist on the glass, only serving to inflame his knuckles and old wounds* No Kaidan!!! You’re supposed to die with me!!! Caryalind you’re supposed to be with-

???: Me?

Marigold: *spins around in shock to see Taliesin standing there, a crumpled letter of confession in his hand* Taliesin- I-I can- I can explain- *steps forward only for his legs to give out beneath him, but instead of finding himself on the floor yet again, taliesins arms pull him in first, safe and warm*

Taliesin: You’re in love with me. But don’t want me to carry you and your short life as a burden. So you’ve been trying to set me up with his highness this whole time? With no consideration of how I feel?

Marigold: h-he’ll be good for you! Far better than me! You’ll be happy with him, you’ll have the respect of everyone back home as his husband! I-

Taliesin: I’m in love with you. Not him, Marie…

Marigold: n-no don’t- don’t say that! *grips onto him tighter as tears well up in his eyes* I’m going to die long- long before you! You can live a happy life with Cary! I can just die then and it won’t hurt! Nobody will need to hurt over me! I-

Taliesin: What makes you think I won’t hurt over your death? What makes you think Caryalind won’t? Or Kaidan? Or Lucien or inigo or serana?! Or your children? The lives you’ve touched the hearts that ache when you’re hurting…

Marigold: *speechless, usually so quick off the draw with a response but now left without a thought to spare, completely blind sighted as he realises for the first time in his life… he’s loved* b-but you’ll be stuck caring for me… who knows how badly my body will deteriorate. Everyone back home knows I was engaged to ancano, they’ll see you as my second option- the rumours they’ll- they’ll ruin your name- they’ll see me as the orphaned recently single heir and you as a status climber or-

Taliesin: *laughs* Ha! Do you think I’ve ever given a damn about my reputation back home? Let them talk, it doesn’t mean their words hold any weight. And you say caring for you as if it’s a chore?… *gently takes marigolds now very bruised hand into his and plants a soft kiss to it as he heals it* Caring for you is my favourite thing to do in the whole world… well… Petting a cat is actually but I’ll take you over that any day.

Marigold: b-but I’m a bad person!

Taliesin: *hums and picks him up* No you’re not.

Marigold: *tears spilling over as he hugs onto him tight* but I’ll break your heart!

Taliesin: *smiles and gently plays with the ringlets in his hair as he kisses his forehead* no you won’t. *carefully lays him on the bed to tend to where he’s hurting* You’ll have to do a lot worse than simply dying to make me stop loving you.

[thepancakewitch]

All Fic Ideas

can't have SHIT anymore!!!!

Fic ideas

KLK

Aikuro x Momoko x Tsumugu

Gamagoori x Momoko

Toriko

Coco

Sunny

Bedazzle suit

Zebra

?

Brunch 

Electric….

Komatsu

Befriending, smooch

Nono

Also befriending, smooch

Starjun

smooch

Midora

TO N G U E

Jujutsu Kaisen

Mahito

Centipede form

Human form

Curse filling

Impregnation

Also tongue… is this a curse thing?

done - >

Sukuna

Non con

Sleepwalker

Tongue…. Sigh

He looked up, eyes focusing in. "You're awake? Good."

Fist of the North Star

Toki cures depression

Shin picks out something for you, modern AU maybe?

Kengan Ashura

Rihito takes you to Tokyo Destiny Land

Reams you in the bathroom - RECENTLY CLEANED

Xia Ji Gets Owned

Dorohedoro

Risu……..

Risu cums on you

Risu more like UR MY SUGAR MOMMYsu

Fujitora

You want to be My partner?

FF7

I am not and will not fuck Hojo but unfortunately I will

tes

Ancano and Llrium

MHA

Bimbo reader x Shigaraki

Uh oh my like, ex bf Keigo is over there??? Quick be my bf in this mall

Naruto

Heavenly Peach Banquet - Momoko x Family

House of Red Clouds - Reader x Akatsuki

One Piece

Condor - Reader x Peruvian Rosicante Donquixote

Idiot llama herder

Tímido Dino - Reader x Cubano X Drake - Diez Drake

Meet him at college, he’s floored you recognize he’s latino, complains about it…..

H o r n iiiii ( fog horn noise )

Mexican Perona - the mall goth

Mexican Law - adopted in by Rosicante

Argentine Robin - studies up in the andes

Colombian Nami - heart breaker

GENDERFLUID*~* Brazillian Sanji - OUDRI KANDA LAIHAI

https://twitter.com/saintdevour/status/1381967022011998209?s=20

Mixed Dominican Katakuri ( i see big mama being european, like Germanic or something )

Panamanian Cavendish - tu quieres!? Si si estoy bonito!

Resident Evil 8 - Village

Inner Workings - Heisenberg experiments on ReaDER HHAHA FNNI 0_0 haha wouldnt that be so funny!!!!!!

Alicia turns you into a husk!!!

Ace Attorney

Modern AU - barok the english professor has no time for you

Scoffs at your twilight but then talks about team jacob

Bends you over the desk to fuck you because idk that has to be a staple

Wine mom

Hunter X Hunter

Illumi uses a magic wand on you and is like :| i wanted to see your reactions

[star-lit-mist]

Favorite Skyrim elves and why?

If you had to live in Skyrim, what do you think you’d be eating?

Irl topic—

Do you think sorcery should be illegal?

It is, where I’m from.

I’d say my favorite Skyrim elves would be:

-Sondas Drenim, you can meet him in Darkwater crossing, he’s the sweet dark elf miner who cares about his fellow miners and he also babysits a little girl

-Ondolmar, the Thalmor justiciar in Markarth

-Ancano, Thalmor advisor at the college in Winterhold (even tho I wanna kick his ass so bad every time I see him breathing)

-Faendal, Wood elf in riverwood

-Runil, Altmer in Falkreath, former Thalmor

-Teldryn Sero, dark elf mercenary you can hire in Raven rock, I like his comments he makes about the different places you’d visit

-Neloth, master wizard of house Telvanni, I just really like when he says “now where did I put it… OH YEAH-“ crazy bag of bones

-Gelebor, I just wanna hold him aight?!?, he’s so nice- and always so happy to see you when you return- ughh the things I’d do to this mer- I mean what?-

Now if I had to live in Skyrim, I’d probably be eating a lot of soups and growing my own food, I like the farming lifestyle that comes with the Hearthfire DLC, plus I like gardening

And as for Sorcery, I really have no preference as long as it’s not like destroying my community, where I live I don’t think many people even care, a close friend of mine is even a descendent of an old Coven.

[zuutiomi]

Hi your blog is so amazing and I love your oc mikyala rosewood shes so pretty ❤️❤️ would you mind telling me a little bit about her I would love to know if it’s not a problem

Aawwhhh thank you so much it really means a lot to me that you like my girlie !!!🩷🩷🩷🥹🥹🥹 ohh and no worries I would gladly tell you more about her !! 🥹🥹💕💕

Mikayla is 36 years old altmer with bosmer's features (mainly her height is way too short for altmer but also her skin is more goldish) her mother Erile is tall altmer who hostess and her father Rundil a short bosmer is merchant in one of Anvil shop. Mikayla has 3 youngers siblings: Erimo ,Koril and Minimi. She really loves everyone in her family and her family love and support her too.

Before skyrim Mikayla's all her mariage proposal were called off because no men wanted to marry her after they found out that she is mixed race ,for few months she pretended to be altmer and dyed her hair blonde and wear high heels but she didn't felt comfortable about it because she didn't felt like she was herself so she decided to never pretend someone who she wasn't ,after that Mikayla went to become Dibella pristess.

Mikayla after defeating Alduin she has join winterhold collage and there her tragic love story with Ancano has continued (actually they have meet durning thalmor party but she was too tipsy to remebered that she dump him and never came back) she did tried apologize to him after what happened durning thalmor party and both noticed they have a lot in common ,Mikayla enjoyed spending time with him and Ancano accepted her the way she was but everything changed when the eye of magnus and Ancano went crazy,she didn't wanted to kill him but oh well....

Mikayla is also my Hero of Kvatch Altrus' granddaughter ,however she doesn't know that since her mother didn't remebered her father well but also Mikayla is far away descendant of Mannimarco

She is also friend with Serana and Teldryn and really enjoy spending time with these two ,there is also Lydia who Mikayla treat her more as sister and trust her with all things.

Mikayla is also very good alchemist she mainly creating poisons and then taste them to see the effect and how strong the possion is. She doesn't like violence and rather solve anything with dyplomancy and she is very caring person and she always has gentle smile on her face.

[fus-ro-dammit]

Who is estormo? My knowledge on thslmor is limited

During the Labrynthian quest in the College of Winterhold line, he is the Thalmor that meets you by the exit and tries to stop you.

Ancano (the main Thalmor guy in that quest line) told him to try and stop you from coming back with the Staff of Magnus.

I Hate Him because he is in my way while I’m trying to do things, he uses lightning magic (storm magic, eSTORMo) and he is all around a gentleman I would rather not bother with.

Thank you for the question. Have a day.

[asktheseacowvboys]

OC-tober Day 9

Prompts: Future + First Meeting!

This one was tough to figure out bc I don't tend to PLAN for meetings between characters? So I chose to draw Castian's future first encounter with Ancano at the College of Winterhold! Things can get pretty awkward when you're one of the Thalmor's Most Wanted, and you come face to face with one of their spies at your new safehaven.

[jiubilant]

cw: brief blood mention

The city Bromjunaar, bright crown of old Keizaal, has sat abandoned for a thousand years. The wind scratches like a rat through its maze of crumbling walls, skittering through rubble, gnawing the nose of the mage struggling up its frozen steps. He scrunches it.

Then he leans heavily on his staff, breathing hard, and stares. The ruin is dotted with tents. Unless he is seeing double—and he won’t, he thinks wearily, rule it out—he counts several figures, cloaked and cowled, poring over a fallen bas-relief.

They must not, the mage thinks, know the meaning of the word abandoned. Or dangerous. He cups a hand around his mouth. “Hello?”

The figures jump. A young man with the patchy beginnings of a beard spots him, starts, then scrambles down to him over the scree—looking for all the world, the mage thinks, like a disgruntled goat. The fuzz on his chin has frozen into a point.

“Who goes there?” the boy demands, scowling. His voice cracks, bless him. “Stop where you are. You’re—you’re intruding on College business.”

Baa-siness, thinks the mage, then chides himself. They had warned him in the village that the mountain air would make him thick. He’d only half-believed them; now he can’t get his breath, and his vision is starting to swim, and he’s making goat puns. “College business?”

The young man folds his arms. “College business.”

Surely not, thinks the mage. Bright spots dance like witchfires across his eyes. He squeezes them shut, then opens them again, half-worried that the boy might vanish with the lights; surely Mirabelle had not sent a pack of prentices to undergo the most perilous trial known to wizardry, no matter how dire the circumstances—

“My friends—my colleagues and I,” the boy continues, blushing at the slip, “are conducting field research. The Archmage knows all about it. Um.” The points of his ears flush red. “This site is full of ancient tr—uh, artifacts of, of historical interest, and we—are you all right?”

The mage, with scholarly eloquence, says, “Nuh.”

He sways like a metronome. Then there is a steadying hand at his elbow, and another at his back, and a startled little laugh—strangely familiar, the mage thinks, and less like a bleat than he had expected—easing him down, all together, on a jut of stone.

“Altitude,” the boy says sagely. “Or you’re timesick. Here, sera, sip this.”

He thrusts a flask at the mage, who takes it in numb hands. Mirabelle, he thinks, did not send these students. They must have set out on their expedition—unsanctioned, the mage does not doubt—long before things on campus went bad. Savos Aren’s amulet, cold as the man who once wore it, hangs heavy as a millstone from his neck.

He clutches the flask. He stares at this boy too young to grow his beard, who doesn’t know about the Archmage, or Ancano, or the Eye.

“—can’t hurt to tell you what we’re up to, I suppose,” the boy is saying, oblivious. “In a few weeks, we’ll all be famous. Well, go on.” He straightens, dusting the snow from his breeks, and crunches backwards through the rising drifts. “Ask me why we’re here.”

The mage stares at him. The boy, or perhaps the mountain, rocks gently to one side.

“Why,” he rasps, the words thick and slow, “are you—”

The boy, with a grin and a grand flourish, throws out his arms as if to embrace the rubble. “This is the site”—he raises his voice over the frigid howl of wind and snow—“of a temporal singularity!”

The mage’s ears are ringing. He tries to look interested. “A temp—ah, temporal—”

“Years ago,” says the boy, bright-eyed, “a dragon-priest of Bromjunaar meddled with chronology, hoping to create a space outside of time in which to stash his treasures. There’s no record of whether he succeeded. Maybe he did. Maybe his pocket-realm can still be unlocked, if you have the key—not that anyone, to my knowledge, does.” He crunches back and forth like a scholar pacing behind a lectern. “Though we were supposed to meet a Breton fellow here, a scholar, who was excited about a sonaak mask he bought from some antiquary. But he’s a week late. We won’t wait much longer for him before going in.”

The mage’s face sharpens. He sits up straighter, ignoring the nausea that rolls in his stomach like a stone. “Going—”

“In any case,” the young man continues, unheeding, “time was broken here, once, and the cracks remain. Things slip through. It’s not unprecedented. You’ve surely heard of the Second Numidian Effect—”

He stops. An odd look crosses his face.

He’s staring, the mage realizes with strange unease, at Savos’s amulet.

“Things slip through,” the boy murmurs again, half to himself. “Um.”

And he draws, from the folds of his scarf, the same amulet.

The mage stares at it. He fumbles a hand to his own talisman, cold and heavy and there—around his neck, yes, but around the boy’s neck, too—

“Are you from the future?” The boy’s voice is soft. His eyes, red and watery with the cold, are wide as coals. “Are you—are you me?”

Not real, thinks the mage. Not real. But the boy, he remembers, had touched him.

He swallows a hysterical laugh. “I’m not you.”

“Oh.” The boy’s face falls. Then it fills again with wonder, hesitant and trembling, like a half-tame animal. “Are we—friends?”

The mage stares at him. He thinks, as the wind cuts their faces, of the man that this boy will become—twisted in the snow, blank-eyed, beard bloody.

“You saved—” His throat closes. He clears it. Smiles, somehow. “Saved my life.”

The boy’s eyes gleam. “Really?”

“Savos!” One of the other apprentices, little more than a speck on a high wall, waves down at them. Her dark curls fly in the wind. “Sav! Hurry up!”

Savos Aren jumps. Turns around.

“Atmah,” he calls back, his face wild with delight, “you’re not going to believe—”

He vanishes. The girl vanishes.

The mage stares, unblinking, as the snow whirls through the space where they had stood.

“Not real,” he says to the wind, the ice, the frozen stones.

Then he blinks down at the flask, capped with a cork, still clutched in his cold hand.

[dynamite124]

i was wondering how Taliesin would react meeting Ancano at the college of Winterhold. He currently didn't seem to react or have line to any guild quest but it would be cool if he did. Just a proposition ^^

I have plans for Ancano. >:3

[your-talos-is-problematic]

riverwood, solitude, riften, and throat of the world for the skyrim asks!

Riverwood - Hadvar or Ralof? Why?

So I have only played Skyrim once, but I would say I’m a Hadvar person. Something about him immediately greeting Afonya with “the gods really have abandoned your people” was really funny to me, so I went with him. He also has some interesting character moments with the Imperial torturer, and it’s funny to me that he can’t recognize the Jagged Crown by appearance alone.

Solitude - Who's your favorite Jarl? Who's your least favorite? Why these?

I’m so glad you asked me this one because I’ve never seen anyone else even acknowledge that my favorite Jarl exists. Brunwulf Free-Winter, Ulfric’s replacement, has stolen so much space in my brain. He’s one of the few people in Windhelm I look forward to (others include Ambarys Rendar and all the pissed-off Jarls) because he’s so much nicer to the Dunmer than everyone else. He’s much more progressive than most of his kin, but still flawed- it’s really interesting to me that he still uses “dark/high elves”. He also refuses as Jarl to let Argonians in to the city, at least for the time being, which is interesting to me because it’s so open to interpretation. He’s either genuinely afraid of violence from Windhelm’s citizens (which hints that they’re even worse people than they seem and also at the strength of beastfolk hate even in comparison to elf hate) or he doesn’t actually care enough to accommodate and protect them (which combos with his strange, albeit accidental on the part of the devs, use of cat and lizard to refer to the pc). Also he’s having a secret relationship with Elda Early-Dawn of all people, and never acknowledges her very racist tendencies. I want to write something with him and Afonya, since there’s a lot there with Windhelm’s Dunmer-positive Jarl and its Dunmeri Thane. Also his non-Jarl schedule is in four-hour increments so he takes four-hour naps and it’s very funny to me.

As for least favorite, Laila Law-Giver really gets on my nerves. She’s so oblivious to all the city’s problems and so unaware that Maven’s using her. Also her son’s like “I don’t like Ulfric” and her reaction is to assume he has some sort of magical sickness. The switch in Jarls from her to Maven is one of my favorites, though, since it incurs so little change in policy. Maven’s always been in control, so she doesn’t need to be Jarl, but she still revels in the title. She’s probably my second-favorite, honestly. Writing her is fun.

Riften - What's your favorite guild? How do you feel about their questline?

I love love love the College of Winterhold! It is the most nostalgic thing ever for me because it reminds me of middle-grade fantasy books. I love the professors, I love the apprentices (of course my girl Brelyna), and I love the indoor and outdoor aesthetics of the College. I know the questline gets a lot of hate, but honestly I was having too much fun to care. Being randomly visited by the Psijic monks is surprising, and learning about the Augur of Dunlain is mysterious, and Ancano is comically suspicious, and that’s enough for me. The dwarven ruin visit with the ghosts was honesty super fascinating and fun, and the moment where the spirits break out into the town is honesty my favorite questline climax (second to killing Ulfric, honesty). And its side quests are great, of course. Where else are you going to get shapeshifted into a horse by your future wife?

Throat of the World - How do you feel about "Season Unending"?

I love it! Season Undending is probably in my top three quests in the entire game. I really like this feeling during it of like “why does everyone listen to me about these things”- the interactions really make you realize how and why the Dragonborn holds so much political power. Also, being able to affect how the world of Skyrim functions to such a large extent is such a crazy feeling. I let Elenwen stay during the meeting, too, which is perfect fanfic fodder for Afonya. Refreshing my memory on uesp while writing this also just taught me about the hidden scoring system, which is really cool. Generally, I like when RPGs let you do major things with no fighting involved. Also, because the Reach was temporarily Stormcloack, the quest where that guy delivers the poem involved him running all the way to Solitude to give it to the girl he liked, when he was supposed to just go to the Markarth throne room.