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argisthebulwark · 1 year

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so so so I was on my way to work this morning blasting music right. not paying any particular attention to anything, just letting my playlist shuffle through bc I still had major fog brain and didn't think of anything past hitting play and what not.

Well suddenly mantra by bring me the horizon came on and it snapped me awake, particularly the part right after the second chorus that goes like "I know it doesn't make a lot of sense, all I'm asking for's a little bit of faith" bc my brain was like !!! major miraak and ldb vibes holy shit (which btw this entire blog is responsible for my new obsession with him so thanks)

like that part just hits soooo well for that. the lbd asking miraak to just have faith in them!!! and leave apocrypha with them. I had it on repeat for hours today and it's just been stuck it my head for the rest

aaa!! i don't usually listen to new BMTH but you're so right about this song. it's been added to my Miraak playlist. it goes so well. i'll link it here for anyone who wants to listen

"I promise I can save you."

The Last Dragonborn's words rattled Miraak's bones. Their hand was covered in blood and ink when they thrust it toward him. Eyes full of desperation watched his every move over the Black Book sitting open in their lap, dark magic whirling and twisting over its pages.

He couldn't trust them. They were his enemy. He belonged in Apocrypha even if it crumbled. He wanted nothing more than to squash their obnoxious hopefulness. He couldn't be saved, didn't know if he wanted to be.

"Close your eyes and listen carefully, Dragonborn." Miraak put every ounce of hatred into his words. They didn't even flinch. "I am bound to this realm. You cannot save me."

"I'm the only one that can save you." Their hand grabbed his, warm skin sticking together and Miraak was disgusted by the way his heart leapt. He'd stomped down his feelings for so long. He wouldn't allow himself to feel that way about the Last Dragonborn.

"How do you expect to do this?" That damned smile was on their face at his words. He knew he'd lost to them yet again. He had spent lifetimes building himself into an unbeatable foe but failed time and time again when met with the Last Dragonborn.

"I know it doesn't make a lot of sense." They babbled and gripped his hand so tight he swore he'd lose feeling. "All I'm asking for is a little bit of faith."

Their words took his breath away. The Book's green glow cast eerie shadows across the Last Dragonborn's face when they looked over at him and Miraak caught a glance of what they could have been. He imagined them at his side at the height of his power, matching thrones in his palace, the unstoppable force they could have become had they met under different circumstances.

"Can you believe in me?"

It's so easy to believe in them. Miraak felt himself nodding before he could think better of it. Apocrypha's seas beat against their platform and for the first time in ages he felt hope. It was a dangerous feeling but the Last Dragonborn gave him hope.

The world turned upside down. Miraak was nauseous when he tumbled through empty space, flashes of green and black stealing his vision when he succumbed to the power of the Black Book. The Last Dragonborn clung to his hand through it all. They never let him go.

Landing back on Skyrim knocked the air from his lungs. The bright sun overhead blinded him and old smells he'd long forgotten filled his nose. Trees towered overhead and Miraak waited for his vision to stop swirling.

Despite his worst fears the Last Dragonborn never let go of Miraak's hand. They squeezed his fingers to call his attention. He hesitated - his mask had been lost in their last battle. He wasn't sure what they saw when they looked at his face, if he'd become some horrible monster like the Seekers.

Their eyes crinkled when they smiled up at him. Miraak knew he was staring but couldn't help himself - the grime covering their face did nothing to stop his heart from hammering. He even felt a bit guilty for leaving so many wounds on them.

"How did you do that?" He whispered, trying to figure out how they'd cast a calming or persuasion enchantment without him noticing. He knew the truth but had to bury it. He couldn't have feelings for the Last Dragonborn. Absolutely not.

"Do what?" They laughed, rolling closer to Miraak over the dirty ground of whatever forest they'd landed in. "I just talked to you. You're the one that listened."

They were dangerous. Far too charismatic for their own good. Miraak's heart leapt when the Dragonborn leaned close to him, studying his face. They didn't seem horrified so it couldn't be too bad, though he didn't feel inclined to find a mirror anytime soon.

"You're too persuasive." Miraak felt himself smiling, a plan already forming in his mind. His last plot had only failed because he was working against the Last Dragonborn, but on the same side they could conquer everything. "Do you want to start a cult with me?"

#thank you anon this song actually fucks #asks #anon #miraak #writing #skyrim #miraak/dragonborn

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imjustgoose · 3 months

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Harry Pooter and The Eccentric Dragon Man

Hey gang I just wrote a fanfic for a Redditor I found a month ago. Nevermind the fact I've never posted, give it some love! You can also read it on Ao3 here. It features Miraak the First Dragonborn as a weird Hogwarts teacher absolutely beefing the Wizarding World:

To say that the students of Hogwarts were curious about their new Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher would be an understatement, for they had only a few whispers of knowledge surrounding the teacher that spread amongst the students like wizard lice:

Professor Miraak was an ancient man with the soul and blood of a dragon. He harboured unique powers and had spent over 4500 years in a realm governed by a tentacle monster. Both he and the monster had voices like warm honey and unquenchable thirsts for knowledge, two of a kind.

The trouble was that such thirsts came at a cost for the man these days. Ever since he was rescued from Apocrypha by the Last Dragonborn, Miraak was still on the hunt for any new power or knowledge he could get his hands on. Unfortunately, the Dragonborn’s job wasn’t enough to cover the costs he required, so Miraak found himself dusting off a chalkboard ten minutes before his class was to begin. It was strange, but Miraak loved to talk and he loved being the smartest person in the room even more. He still donned his typical robes and armour, but his face was visible to the world upon Dumbledore’s request to ‘maintain a welcoming image’. Miraak scoffed at the idea, but he complied. There wasn’t much that he could do to hide the black ink stains around his eyes, his facial scars, his blackened scleras or his slit pupils, but he at least kept his facial hair neat and ran pomade through his tresses. He heard a student whisper something that sounded like ‘cloth girlfriend’ when he was introduced to the school in the middle of the year, but Miraak paid no mind to it. Gender meant little when you were an Atmoran half-dragon who could shout people through walls, and he figured that the cloth comment was in reference to his robes. Before Miraak could dwell on it any further, his senses told him to turn around, so he did. Eye contact was something for him to improve on, since he was not accustomed to conversing with humans for over 4500 years, so he swept his gaze across the room. The eyes that were on him watched with interest, but most were focused on their books and other students. His class was suddenly full of students, time to begin.

“Is everyone seated?” Miraak more so asked himself rather than the students, spying only two empty seats and immediately combing his mind for why two chairs would be unoccupied. He must have looked confused or annoyed, since a girl with a bushy head of brown hair was quick to speak up.

“The Patil twins are away for family business, sir,” she responded in a uniform manner. Miraak quirked a scarred brow before nodding.

“Very well, I’ll make a note of that later…” Miraak answered, eyeing the other students in their respective friend groups. He knew none of the students, but he was nothing if not charismatic, so he offered a thin smile and began writing his name on the board, “the other teachers prefer to be called by their last name, but I do not refer to myself by a family name. You shall call me Professor Miraak,” he stated, writing his name in English and Dovahzul. The girl from earlier furrowed her brows as she saw the strange symbols, waiting a moment before raising her hand. Miraak gestured for her to speak, his eyes narrowing as he observed her rigid state. In fact, the whole class seemed out of sorts. When he was their age, he’d sneak out of the temple for wine and gratifying escapades, not listening to his mentors even when they threatened to beat him. Atmorans were rough, but kids of any race were rowdy, so why weren’t they?

“I’ve never seen that language before. What is it?” Her inquisitive nature pleased Miraak, being a fellow seeker of knowledge. He looked back at the board and pointed at the markings.

“That is Dovahzul, Dragon language. It is from the dragons of my realm, words that hold power in each syllable. Note how the strokes and points look like claw markings,” he ran his fingers down the strokes of his second language, “as dragons would write for mortals to read. Your headmaster would be wise to teach you this language, but I digress. You are here to learn magic with your….wands, spells to defend yourself against the dangers of this world and any other world you may find yourself in. You must unravel the truth of- yes?” Miraak was cut off by another hand, owned by a blonde boy.

“Where is Professor Umbridge? We were supposed to have her for the whole year,” he asked, visibly annoyed at the teacher change. He seemed to be the only one, since the class subtly reacted with disdain upon hearing the name from his lips. Miraak placed a hand on his hip and looked at the podium where she likely once stood.

“I have been informed that she was unable to teach further, so I am here. I am more than capable of teaching you, rest assured.” Miraak offered another thin smile, which did little to quell the boy’s concern, or annoyance. Miraak was trying to smile more in his days as a free man. Living with his counterpart had helped him attain some semblance of happiness, but he was still healing and still deeply wounded. His past could, at times, scare people off, so he was practising a more friendly look. The Last Dragonborn coached him through it for a week, being thorough and supportive of Miraak’s endeavours. It was a new challenge, so he tried his best to accommodate.

“Now we can finally learn what we need,” Miraak heard a voice mutter. His keen senses immediately zeroed in on a boy in the front, a Draconic stare briefly surfacing before he tried to mask it. The boy looked…stressed. Miraak could practically smell the exhaustion from him, further enunciated by the boy’s pale complexion and dark circles under his glasses. Miraak scoffed, not at the boy, but at the mention of him being the one to teach them after another teacher’s failure.

“Vahzah, you are in the hands of a very capable teacher. I once engaged in a battle so fierce it tore a piece of land off a continent to create an island. I devoured dragons every day to steal their power and have levelled armies with no more than an utter of my breath. I am what the dragons called Dovahkiin, a Dragonborn, and the very first of my kind. If I cannot teach you how to block little zaps from wooden sticks, then nobody can.” Miraak’s tone was arrogant and proud, only boosted by the amazed looks he garnered from his boasting. It made his chest feel hot with fire, a common trait he discovered after the Dragonborn praised him. A dragon’s pride was as precious as the treasures they kept, so looks of awe were logs in his wildfire.

“He's joking, yeah? This bloke’s having a go at wands and talking about dragon-speaking powers,” a redhead spoke to the exhausted boy next to him. Miraak snorted and gave a toothy grin.

“Nothing I do is in jest, unless you find a serpent in your loafers. That would be a prank, done in jest. Magic in my realm comes from hands and mouths, or staves, for those who have a harder time with magicka. No, I was a prodigy, which is why I was chosen to be a Dragon Priest,” Miraak stepped away from the chalkboard and stood on one side of the room after his boast. Without a sweat, he channelled his magicka through his right hand and summoned a skeleton thrall in front of the class. He had to keep himself from inflating too much for the students' praise. Conjuration must have been unfamiliar to them, “tell me now, what spells do you know to dispel an enemy such as this? Anyone can answer, no need for hands,” he asked, looking to see if anyone stands. Surprisingly, nobody stood or answered. Miraak folded his arms in annoyance, “Sahlo kiir! This is an enemy, you’d all be dead by now. Quickly, someone stand and vanquish this thrall before I send it after you!” His words triggered a student to use the Reductor curse. As the skeleton dissipated into blue crackles of magicka, Miraak nodded to him in approval. The student had been the exhausted boy, who looked like someone Miraak should have been familiar with.

“Sir, with all due respect, we already know this stuff. Can’t we, I don’t know, learn stuff that could protect us from real threats?” His voice carried an edge to it that most teachers would have given the student trouble for, but it gave Miraak a streak of satisfaction to see a mind so eager.

“Real threats can come in many different forms. Had I intended to kill you, you’d all be soot, staining the floorboards,” Miraak warned with a cocky smirk, “tell me, what is in this world that you are so eager to fight?” He questioned, moving back to the middle of the room, eyeing the students that seemed almost too frightened to speak.

“Don’t you know about Voldemort? The Dark Lord? He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named?” The boy seemed to be growing more frustrated with each name, which Miraak met with indifference. “Petty names for a petty opponent,” Miraak tutted, “In my time, names were a bit less….I want to say stupid? Who gave this man these names?”

“I’m…not sure,” The boy admitted. A few whispers flittered between students, not a single syllable unheard by Miraak. His pupils narrowed as he listened, causing the boy to gulp, also heard by Miraak.

“That is interesting. You children fascinate me. You live in a world where villains less than one hundred years old threaten you. Does he use a little stick too?” Miraak offered a creased smile, feeling amusement from the way his whelps shook in their seats at the thought of a man who hides behind names.

“Sorry, but are you going to teach us or continue to be condescending?” The girl with bushy hair spoke up. Yet another outburst to be chastised for, but it reflected Miraak’s ambition.

“You are right, young one. Vosaraan! Show me what your fancy twigs can do!”

Each student eventually gave their names and demonstrated their main three combat charms as the class progressed. Miraak took note of their strengths, weaknesses and which fighting style of his own knowledge would suit them the most. He eventually singled out Harry, the exhausted boy, and crouched on the teacher’s desk. Miraak sat like a content frog with bent knees and straight arms, earning him a few looks, but he paid no mind.

“In this classroom, we progress by acknowledging the best and the worst. Potter will attempt to strike me, given that he has shown incredible feats of attacking,” Miraak announced, looking between Harry and Neville with a gleam in his eye, “Longbuttocks, what is the best course of action if Potter attacked me and I had nowhere to go?”

“Go up! I mean-”

“Wrong!”

Miraak dodged Harry’s spell by propelling himself to the right. Without a second to breathe, he jumped from the wall he landed on and tackled Harry to the floor. Miraak took Harry’s wand and flung it across the room, watching it land in a fish tank. With a snarl, he jumped back onto the desk, feeling particularly pleased at the looks his students gave.

“Sir? That doesn’t seem like-”

“How do I award points to a house?”

“But- for what?”

“How?”

“You just say the number of points you want to give to a house then say which house you wish to-”

“One hundred points to Slytherin for my victory here,” Miraak beamed with pride, “yes, I am in Slytherin. Okay, work on your disarming charms and write something in Dovahzul for extra points. I will test you again next week, but if I don’t see any progress made I will take points away. Class dismissed.” Miraak finished by running a hand through his hair. The students shuffled out the room, whispering about Miraak clearly being nuts and a ‘goth girlfriend’. He figured he misheard the first letter before, but it still made no sense to him. Either way, he had fun on his first day. Harry dusted himself off and took his wand from the tank with a disgusted look, but gave Miraak a nod before he left. Miraak would make fighters out of his students and give this ‘Dark Lord’ a real threat. In truth, he already knew about Voldemort after a few teachers told him over a cup of tea and dainty sweets that he took to his office for his snack stash. He was not frightened. One strange undead man was nothing to sneeze at, but Miraak would not worry, he was a responsible and good teacher.

~~~~~

Voldemort ended up being easy work, after all the fuss. Miraak’s brassy boots crunched against the shattered glass in the Department of Mysteries as he approached where Voldemort once stood. He picked up a wand and eyed it with a fascinated gaze. Bone, not twig. Miraak snorted and looked back at everyone who joined him in the battle. Nobody had words, not even the Death Eaters. How quaint.

“Pruzah! I knew he’d be no threat,” Miraak gloated. He already felt eager to write to the Dragonborn about his feat. When his eyes landed on the students, he put on a stern face, “you all have a paper due next Friday. This excursion will not grant you an extension, unless you grow ill.”

“Professor, you killed Voldemort like he was-”

“Nothing? I know!” Miraak decided to give the bone wand a flick, eyes widening as the curly haired Death Eater exploded into a swarm of butterflies, “What!? Suleyk ahst aan mal qeth!? Now I get it!”

It was safe to say that Miraak quite liked teaching teenagers magic. Who could have guessed!?

END

Miraak’s language key, translated by Thuum.org:

Dovahzul = Dragon voice, the language of Mundus dragons

Vahzah = True/Right

Dovahkiin = Dragon born, a mortal with the blood and soul of a dragon

Sahlo kiir = Weak child

Vosaraan = Haste/be without delay, used to convey ‘quickly!’

Pruzah = Good

Suleyk ahst aan mal qeth = “Such power in a little bone.”

#miraak #harry potter au #skyrim au #miraak fanfiction #please Todd give us more Miraak content I am starving #especially with GOL HAH DOV ending this month #Last Dragonborn is ambiguous for your own headcanons because ily mwah mwah #what a way to start my Tumblr #with silly dragon man

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isamajor · 10 months

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Whumpblrful’s 100 Drabble Challenge - Whump Edition (prompt 1 to 5)

I decided to try another whump challenge before whumptober comes, so I’m going to do @whumpblrful‘s 100 Drabble Challenge. :D

1- “Don’t touch them”

There were too many vampires. They had felt the blood and the power of their little troop and had come in numbers. Soon they were overwhelmed, weakened by vampiric drains, frozen by ice attacks, and beset by the cold bodies of vampires yearning to taste their warm, throbbing blood. In front of this, helpless, the Dragonborn could only scream "Don't touch them!!". The shout had the sound of thunder. But this only froze the vampires for an instant. Eyes filled with rage, the Dragonborn shouted louder, ancient words coming from the depths of his draconic soul. (97)

•

2- Torture

Taliesin's body, covered in bruises and wounds, writhed in pain from the new volley of blows. He enjoyed the pain, but to a certain point and in a certain context which unfortunately was not the latter. His former comrades from Thalmor were unleashed on him, setting an example. The sucid missions had not been enough, Taliesin had betrayed them and left Thalmor to travel with the Dragonborn. It was more than treason. He went through torture. But even when they had defiled and torn out his beautiful hair, he would not open his teeth. He would not betray the Dragonborn. (101)

•

3 – Forced to watch

Nebarra and Telmiltarion ventured into Markarth's market, in search for provisions, unaware of the looming danger. Guards working for the Silver-Blood family emerged from the shadows, cornering them in a narrow alley. Quickly, Telmiltarion found himself disarmed and restrained by a bunch of men in green armor. Other guards tore off Nebarra's helmet, exposing his defiant expression and youthful face.

"Harmless as bunnies, eh?" one guard sneered, landing a vicious blow on Nebarra's cheek.

Others joined in, pummeling Nebarra with blows. Telmiltarion's heart pounded as he fought against his restraints, desperate to help him. He could do nothing but watch. (105)

•

4 – Held

The Dragonborn's world shifted as tentacles snatched them into Hermaeus Mora's realm, Apocrypha. Panic gripped Kaidan's heart as he lunged to catch them, but Xelzaz firmly held him back by an arm and Lucien gripped his wrist.

"You can't go there, it's too dangerous. They has to confront Miraak alone. Apocrypha is treacherous, Hermaeus Mora wouldn't allow another player in their game.", Lucien explained, his grip tight.

The Black Book consumed the Dragonborn, and, firmly held by his traveling companions, Kaidan stared with a heavy heart as the book closed itself and fell to the ground. (102)

•

5 - Bruised

Gore winced as Lucien gently probed his bruised side. He grumbled at him to be careful. Lucien's eyes softened with concern, apologizing but explaining that he needed to check for an internal injury.

"...Fine.", nodded Gore. He gritted his teeth when he felt Lucien's hands on the large bruises that adorned his back.

Chuckly weakly, he added "That dragon's tail packed a wallop."

Lucien's fingers traced the purplish-blue marks left by the dragon's swipe, announcing that he had been lucky that the dragon hadn't broken anything, before casting a healing spell on Gore's back. (102)

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tgrailwar-zero · 11 months

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83.8% chose to 'Ask Foreigner to Get Ruler'!

"Perhaps Ruler first. She's been waiting for a while, and I recall my Masters wanting to thank her for something."

AVENGER stated. With a nod, FOREIGNER stepped out of the room.

It didn't take very long, frankly, just a few minutes with him alone with his thoughts, before the infirmary door opened up once more and FOREIGNER came with a woman in tow. A young woman, with a round, boyish face, gentle eyes, and pristine robes- accompanied by an owl. She was familiar, and yet not familiar in the slightest. The only real consistency was her appearance.

She seemed…. kinder. Her presence was kind. Warm. Understanding. Completely different to BERSERKER's façade in the city. The Servant- RULER- wasted no time in stepping closer to the bed that AVENGER was resting in, kneeling down next to it and briefly closing her eyes.

"I thank the Lord that you're okay. This War hasn't claimed any lives yet."

She took AVENGER's hand in hers, patting it gently.

"My name is Johanna, but Joan is fine too. I'm the Ruler-class Servant of this War."

Unlike LANCER's True Name reveal, filled with confidence and intensity, RULER's was far more subdued. Humbling, in a way. Her expression grew a bit more self-deprecating, a faint sadness peeking out from behind her smile.

"Your Masters may find the irony in me being here. A sham for a sham. Speaking of the Masters of Avenger, it's an honor to meet you as well- though we cannot speak to one another, I've heard much about you. From the proclamations of Heiliger Saber, the hearsay of Lady Caster, and the whisperings of…"

She trailed off, her smile tightening for just a moment before FOREIGNER cut in.

"You spoke to Saber?"

RULER shook her head.

"Only briefly, through one of his proxies. And I still need to share my findings with MoonCancer. But there are more pressing things I need to discuss..."

RULER's eyes briefly drifted over to FOREIGNER. FOREIGNER glanced over at AVENGER, and back over to RULER, giving a wry grin.

"Despite what the books might say about me, even my ass can read a room. I'll wait by the door. Call if y'need me. Got it? That goes for both of ya."

"...Thank you, Lady Foreigner. I'm not one for secrets, but this is a bit of a personal matter."

She gave a half-hearted wave, stepping out of the room for the moment. RULER waited for a short beat, before turning back to face AVENGER, her expression growing a bit more dour.

"I'm sure you and your Masters have questions, Avenger. And luckily, my capture did result in fruitful information. But... for one, I assume that you've already begun your… what did he call it… 'T-Contract'? Saber said rather confidently that you'd have at least established a contract with at least one other Servant, similarly to how you did in the 'Origin War'. At that point, I had assumed that you would claim the Seventh Spirit Origin, but it seems like he's firmly in Lady MoonCancer's hands."

AVENGER sat up a bit straighter in his hospital bed, paying attention. There was a chance that this would be useful to the both of you, and maybe ease him into whatever you had to explain regarding RIDER.

#thgw: chapter 3 #thgw story #main post

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obsidian-dovahkiin · 10 months

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Time flies over us, but leaves its shadow behind. (For @ask-demon-princess-astarte)

Hermaeus Mora's selection of a new successor was met with much celebration. The passing of his late champion Miraak had caused much anxiety and unease amongst his closest devotees. For many, however, they were uncertain he even had a champion. Their Prince of idolization was highly secretive. But even they could feel something changed in the endless library they called home. The air seemed colder than usual, and the inhabitants much more irritable.

The legacy of the Last Dragonborn spread to even the quietest halls of Apocrypha, the worshippers honouring his fine choice. What a prize she was indeed. The other Daedric Princes bickered and fought when her mortal time was over. They all rushed to his realm, clamouring to present their case, but none could produce any definitive proof of her faithfulness. Obsidian's devotion was evident to all who looked at her. Her elaborate tentacle tattoos writhed across her skin, the mark of her Prince like a brand on her lower back. Her house was filled with forbidden tomes, and various fetishes of a tentacled god were integrated into her decor. Even her own voice had begun to match his own intricate dictation. The Princes swore they would seek revenge in the future and returned to their domains in a temper.

At least a few hundred years had passed, and Obsidian began to throw herself into her new duties. Being Mora's right hand was never easy. He spoke in riddles that could take hours to decipher his true meaning, and he would ask her to do mind-boggling tasks she couldn't determine. But as time passed, she became more accustomed to her Master's way of thinking. Now she didn't have to spend time deducing what he meant and could complete requests with ease. She was now a part of the realm and thus, a part of her Prince. She settled into a routine, each "day" being the same. Her Master allowed her a private corner of Apocrypha, as a token of her unwavering loyalty. Obsidian was given complete control over how it looked, and what was inside. With limited resources at her disposal, she had constructed a house, almost identical to her one in Skyrim. When Obsidian was not exploring, or following after her Master, this was where she would spend her time. She would often spend it writing letters to and from Mora's patrons on Nirn, or her connections across the realm. She had practically never stopped working after she was bound to Apocrypha. However, for a soul as energetic as hers, this life was quickly becoming dull. If it wasn't for her Dremora husband swearing allegiance to Mora upon Obsidian's passing, it would be a lonely one too.

There was a quiet knock on her door, and then the clicking of his armour as he walked wasn't enough to tear her eyes from the letter she was reading. The desk she sat at was another gift from her Master. It was abnormally large to match her towering height and made from the finest wood from the distant forests of Apocrypha. The iconography of her Master decorated the legs, the detail so fine that one would have to view it for hours to truly take it in. Many letters and tomes were scattered across the tabletop, Obsidian now quickly scribbling upon a blank piece of paper. He moved a book to make room for her teacup, shaking his head at the mess. All the books looked the same, with the dreary cover of brown and no title to be found. How she could tell them apart was maddening to him.

"Can you believe this Hefdet? He's demanding another audience with our Master. Why will he not take no for an answer?" She muttered, putting down her pen amongst the mess. Obsidian greeted him with a deep kiss, before reaching for the teacup. It was a deep green colour, with golden patterns painted onto the side.

"Mm, this tea smells different. Another one from your adventures?" She delicately sipped, becoming accustomed to the bitter flavour. as he placed a hand on her shoulder. He nodded in response.

"I've been told it's an acquired taste. Made from a Nirnroot. Do you remember what a Nirnroot is love?" Obsidian scoffed. "Of course, I remember what a bloody Nirnroot is. As if I could ever forget its piercing screech. It tastes…bitter. But it reminds me of those old adventuring days. What a time that was. How dull it must be for the bards: The great Last Dragonborn, slayer of Alduin and student of the Daedric Arts dies because a lurker launched her across a room. How was I supposed to know they didn't like being pet?" she chuckled slightly, as he began to massage her shoulders.

"I know you miss it Obsidian but you're doing an excellent job here. I've never seen someone serve a Daedric Prince like you before. And it isn't as if Mora keeps you in confinement. You are free to explore all of Apocrypha to your heart's content. Your deal was just no other Daedric Realms without permission and no Nirn. Here is where you will stay, but if you wish, I can accompany you to Cipher's Midden? I hear that you haven't visited in many days now. They're worried about you."

Obsidian sighed, resting her head back upon his torso. She didn't answer his question. The two remained in this position for some time, until a new letter fell down into her chute across the room. This is where all correspondence with her would be received, but also where she could send her own letters across the vast postal networks of Apocrypha. She never realised just how complex this realm was until she called it home. Their eyes flicked across it for a moment, Hefdet quickly dismissing it and returning to look down on Obsidian. Her attentive eyes noticed something different about the letter.

"Why…why is the paper a different colour?" She asked, standing up from her chair. Obsidian's footsteps were not as loud as his, as she no longer wore armour. No harm could happen to her in Apocrypha, so she would wear a various selection of robes, handcrafted by servants of the Great Eye.

"Perhaps it is a new batch of paper? Maybe it is the lighting, or lack thereof in here. I have no idea how you sit here and read-"

"It's not from here." She interrupted him, examining the letter in her hands. The piece was soft, and was white in colour, unlike the murky yellow hue of the paper Apocrypha produced. She ran a finger across it, almost as if she was determining its reality. Rushing back to her desk, she retrieved a letter opener and cut open the unmarked wax seal.

"It's from Coldharbour?" She asked uncertainly, her hungry eyes reading on. "From a Xivkyn named Kridia. She says there are rumours of him talking of invading Apocrypha! I cannot stand by and let this happen!" She cried out, gathering her possessions for her satchel.

"Wait, Obsidian we have to talk about this first! It could be a lie, we don't even know how this letter got here! Master doesn't let anything pass through his realm he doesn't check first and you know he wouldn't give you a letter from another realm. And it's not like he will let you leave to deal with it," he cried, trying to stop her from running out of the room.

"Not unless I ask for permission, which is exactly what I'm going to do! I am not passing up the chance of escaping here for a while, even if it is to Coldharbour. And no one hurts my Master. Now come on!"

#obsidian dovahkiin #ask demon princess astarte

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the-storytellers-seer · 1 year

Text

Rewrite Chapter for the Tag

Thank you for the tag @mareenavee!

Okay, here's a blurb from my rewrite of 'Heirs of the Prophecy'. None of this is final. Heck, as I was looking for a portion of the new stuff to post, I found and corrected some awkward wordings.

Excerpt from 'Heirs of the Prophecy' Chapter Three: Consequences

Sarea chanced a bite of porridge, grimaced, and swallowed the bite down as quickly as she could when the flavor of lukewarm congealed meat broth and grains hit her tongue.

She held a hand over her mouth, willing herself not to gag under the knowing gaze of Teldryn. “Oh yes, I should have warned you, their porridge is a meat-based abomination.”

He plucked the bowl from her fingers and emptied it into the fire before pulling out a loaf of bread that had been wrapped in wax-dipped cloth. It was crumbly and dotted with what looked like yellowish spots amongst the densely pocked center. He broke off a portion and handed it to her. “Geldis’ famous travel bread. Not sure how he manages to make ash yam taste good, but I’m not going to complain. It lasts for ages and doesn’t crack teeth."

True enough, the bread was surprisingly soft although grainy. The yam even made it ever-so slightly sweet. She took a deep draught of ale to wash it down and felt marginally better. “Oh, I think I’ve figured out where I was yesterday.”

“Where?”

“I’m fairly certain it was Hermaeus Mora’s realm of Apocrypha.”

Teldryn’s smile vanished. “A Daedric Prince?”

She nodded. “The Prince of Knowledge I believe. He has seven Black Books, they contain great knowledge and they're also portals to his realm. A realm with all the knowledge in the world. Think of it, Teldryn! All the knowledge about what it means to be dragonborn. Knowledge that might even…” she trailed off, unwilling to give those thoughts a voice. They were too raw. Too hopeful. She was so tired of tears.

Teldryn leaned forward. “Sarea, Oblivion and Daedric Princes are…never good.”

“I know, they’re dangerous, but they’re not all evil. Azura isn’t considered evil.”

Teldryn shifted uncomfortably and she saw his jaw clench. “The Princes work to their own ends. We’re nothing but playthings to them.” He nearly growled. “If they’re speaking it’s half-truths…at best.”

“But what about mortals who become their champions? I’ve read of the boons they’re granted.”

His hand shot out and grabbed her knee roughly, dragging all her attention toward him as he leaned close enough for her to feel his breath on her cheeks. “They don’t have champions, they have slaves. I knew someone once who—promise me. Promise me you won’t dabble in that.”

“But what if that’s how we need to stop Miraak?” she argued.

He moved even closer, invading all her space until there was nothing between them but a breath. “I don’t care. I won’t…I can’t…we’ll find another way. Promise me you won’t seek to become a Daedric Prince’s champion.”

Sarea gnawed on her lower lip. “I…”

Her mind whirled for a way she could reassure Teldryn and still gain the precious knowledge to save her family. She didn’t want to lie to him. “We’ll find another way.” She repeated.

But if there wasn’t another way, she’d do whatever needed to be done for the chance to see her parents again.

Teldryn moved away, seeming to accept her words although the tension in the air remained. Sarea stood. “I…uhh…have questions for Frea.”

****

Alright, I tag...well whoever wants to do this! Open invite! It's fun!

#tes v skyrim #elder scrolls #teldryn sero #heirsoftheprophecy #ao3 fanfic #did i do this right?

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findingtarshish · 9 months

Note

"⭐ share a snippet where a character is the best at something " and "📚 share a snippet where the character is being academic/is in an academic setting/is showing off their knowledge"

⭐: Dahlia being a really good cook, from the chapter "Breathless"

“This is pretty good,” Sulaya mused, swirling the wine in her glass. “I’m not usually one for wine, but this isn’t bad.”

“I’m also not usually a wine person, but I thought it would be nice and romantic,” Dahlia said with a smile.

Sulaya raised an eyebrow. “Well, you’ve never had any trouble seducing me with your cooking,” she said, putting her glass down. She gestured at their now decimated dinner. “This was delicious.”

Dahlia rested her chin on her hand. “Perks of growing up as a farmer’s daughter- you learn to turn cheap stuff into something palatable. But with good quality ingredients? You can make something even better.”

“Well, you’re quite good at it,” Sulaya drawled. “Fighter, engineer, leader, chef- is there anything you can’t do?”

📚: Harmony sharing her knowledge of Bahari mythos, from the chapter "The Beast Runs Wild"

“Ah! Yes.” Harmony set her mug down, and flipped open the book. It was bookmarked on page 27, the Coming of Lilith, her favorite passage. “So, as I was going to say, this is the Book of Nod. It tells the story of our creation, or at least part of it.” She patted the archive box she was holding. “This, however, tells the rest.”

“So if this Book of Nod is the bible then this is… an apocrypha?” She pointed to the other box “A new testament? What does it say?” Biblical studies were never something she pursued. She couldn’t even say she really read the Bible, not that it would make much of a difference if she did, by the sound of things.

“The proper literary term would be a parallax. This—” She gently pulled her copy of Revelations of the Dark Mother from its box. Its black faux-leather cover has been ripped off, and it was wrinkled and cracked with water damage. At some point, she needed to rebind this, or make a facsimile. The copy she’d found was a first edition, but its journey staying out of the Camarilla’s pyres had not been kind to it. “…tells the story from another perspective, from that of the witch Lilith, the actual source of our powers.”

#harmony adams #Anomaly and Sulaya #oc posting #ask game

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luvliewriting · 2 years

Text

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The Loyal Servant

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Pairing: Hermaeus Mora x F.Reader

Warnings:

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She must have had a life before all of this. A mother, a father, perhaps even a brother or a sister. But that’s one thing that comes with devoting your life to a daedric prince, especially one like Hermaeus Mora. Time was something she couldn’t remember, her life before the lord of knowledge is nothing but a blur. Y/N spent most of her days inside of Apocrypha library. When not in Apocrypha, she’ll be out collecting knowledge for her lord, ever expanding his library.

Her life was indebted to the lord of knowledge; the man who made the (Race) immortal for as long as he wishes, her life being under his control. She’d live forever, never aging, until he decides he’s made his use of her. Y/N knew the risks she was taking when she bowed down to the lord, yet she wasn’t afraid; she understood that any day could be her last, and she took that with pride. That’s what made the lord of knowledge so interested in the (Race); she wasn’t afraid of him, she wasn’t afraid of death, she was ready to have her life ended if he chose it.

His most loyal and priceless servant. Y/N had many times asked the lord when he planned to get rid of her, he’d always answer the same way: “In due time.” He never gave an exact time or even an idea. In truth, Hermaeus Mora never planned to rid himself of the (Race); no, this (Race) was way too useful to toss away, way better than Miraak at least.

“My lord?” Y/N was careful to not interrupt the daedric lord, watching the giant circular mass of eyes and tentacles flip through pages of a book inside of the huge library. A stray lurker followed behind the (Race) girl. Y/N was always lucky if she didn’t have a lurker or a seeker following her every step inside of Apocrypha, it was under Hermaeus Mora’s orders, he always claimed it was if she got lost even though Y/N knew the maze of Apocrypha by the back of her hand so well she could navigate the place blindfolded and dizzy.

“My most loyal champion,” Hermaeus Mora said slowly, one of his many tentacles flipping the cover of the book over before pushing the book back to its place in the library. Y/N bowed her head before walking up to the Lord as he floated down more to her height, yet he still towered feet over the (Race).

His eyes fixated on her, Y/N nodding pulling her bag from off of her shoulder and untying the string reaching her hand inside, “I will warn you now my lord, this was no easy task but-,” pulling out the ten black soul gems, Y/N smiled up at the daedric lord, “I got you the orc souls you asked for, however I’m a little confused. Orcs aren’t exactly…” Y/N paused before letting out a chuckle, “there’s no way I can say this without sounding like Stormcloak scum.”

“My Champion,” Y/N tensed feeling Hermaeus reach out one of his tentacles grabbing the bag out of the (Race)'s hands before letting another one of his tentacles wrap around her arm, “if I wished to hear about politics I would spend more time around mortals, please do not bore me with such trivial matters.”

“I apologize, My Lord,” Y/N tensed once more, feeling another tentacle wrap itself around her stomach, feeling her feet leave the floor of the library and Y/N being raised into the air, directly in line with Hermaeus Mora’s main eye.

Hermaeus Mora studied his servant, something was different in Y/N's e/c eyes, almost as if she was hiding something from him, “what happened?” Y/N looked at the lord of knowledge in confusion, Hermaeus Mora tightening his hold on her arm, “something about your demeanor is different, whether it be in your heart or mind, I can not understand, it upsets me; I am not very kind when I am upset so I recommend you tell me.”

The (Race) stayed in that position, her wrist aching from the tightened grip, she couldn’t find a way for her voice to return to her throat. There was a lump in her throat and it wouldn’t go away no matter how much she prayed it would.

Hermaeus Mora sighed, closing all of his eyes in frustration as he thought about what to do, something was upsetting his champion but the daedric lord didn’t know what it was. Y/N looked down at the tentacle wrapped around her stomach as she tapped on it lightly, Hermaeus Mora opened all of his eyes looking at the (Race).

“My lord?” Y/N asked, feeling the tightness of his grip on her wrist start to loosen, “may I, if it's no trouble, go to my room? I feel rather unwell and I think I’m gonna go lay down for a bit.”

Feeling her feet touch the floor of the library, Y/N bowed her head to the daedric lord before slipping away from the library going down the mazes to her own personal room inside of Apocrypha.

Hermaeus Mora would never admit something like this but he cared for his Champion, he couldn’t even believe it himself, but honestly he wanted to help her, but how? Normally Y/N would spend hours with the daedric lord, talking about whatever and anything. Sometimes they’d just both end up reading their separate books in silence, sometimes Y/N liked reading to the daedric lord.

The daedric lord remembered his first meeting with the (Race). She was so young and naive back then, but Hermaeus Mora saw pertental, pertental he had never seen in a mortal before. He had originally appeared to her in his human form, a form he disliked using but it’d seemed a better idea than appearing as his usual self. A tall man with long black hair and glowing green eyes, it'd definitely caught the young breton off guard when he noticed him sit down beside her while she read her book.

Y/N's breathing caught in her throat when a snow pale hand dropped on the page of her book, her eyes scanning upwards to the owner of the hand making her back away from the tall figure with hypnotizing glowing green eyes. The man let out a chuckle, his hand lifting from the book to rest on the breton’s cheek as he took in her features.

“Uh, can I uh, help you?” Y/N stuttered with her words, feeling his hand touch her skin. It was cold, almost deathly cold, as if he wasn’t alive.

“Forgive me for my forwardness but I must know your name,” Hermaeus Mora smiled, his hand dropping from Y/N's cheek before grabbing her hand in his own. Y/N answered with her name as Hermaeus Mora squeezed her hand, “Y/N, interesting name; it means uniquely appealing and undeniably cute if I am correct and I always am.”

“I wouldn’t say I’m cute but uh thanks?” Hermaeus Mora let out a chuckle, sending shivers down the breton’s spine.

Hermaeus Mora smiled looking into Y/N's e/c eyes, “ now I must ask something of you, Y/N. I need you to find a man for me, Septimus Signus, don’t worry ‘gold’ will be involved. Once you find him, I will tell you what to do from there.”

Since then its been history between the two, Y/N was trained by Hermaeus Mora to be stronger not only in strength but also in mind. Y/N had gone from being a nobody in Skyrim to Hermaeus Mora’s most important and loyal servant. Hermaeus Mora questioned when he would end up killing her, he knew it’d have to happen one day but a part of him didn’t want to, he liked having the company of someone he knew he could trust and Y/N definitely did give more company than the seekers and the lurkers.

Hermaeus Mora moved throughout the Apocrypha, stopping at a large door and opening it with one of his tentacles peaking in with one of his eyes. Y/N was there on her bed, she looked peaceful but also agitated. Hermaeus Mora reached himself further into the room stopping at the end of her bed before reaching out one of his tentacles moving it through her hair, the strand among the rest being moved behind her ear.

He paused when Y/N started moving in her sleep, a part of the daedric lord terrified that she’d wake up and catch him looming over her. But it was quite the opposite, no, she grabbed his tentacle and pulled it closer, clinging to the green tentacle not allowing the daedric lord to leave without waking her.

The daedric lord peacefully sighed, he was content with himself, a part of him liked this moment, though he would never admit it. It was calming for the daedric lord of knowledge getting to just relax and watch his favourite servant sleep. Yet he still feared one thing; when would he have to kill Cerise? To give her soul to the soul carion. He knew it would have to happen eventually, still the day haunted him.

But that was for another time, the daedric lord was just happy with his life now.

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Don't forget to like and maybe reblog as it really does help me out

Taglist:

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#skyrim #skyrim x reader #hermaeus mora #hermaeus mora x reader #luvlie writing

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viceroysalamancer · 2 years

Text

@tes-summer-fest this ones from yesterday and i just forgot about it completely anyhow its based on the prophecy prompt and its about how Dnefruuk and Shaz get back to mundus from their little sabatical in oblivion with a little help from the dragonborn

"No, child, no, I have a plan."

"Care to share it with the rest of the class? Because I don’t really see a way out of here." Shaz sat dejectedly. Their good ship the R.S.V Hellfire rocked under her but she was far past worrying about falling out. After a solid two years spent in Oblivion, most of the time in this little boat, she wasn't worried about falling in the drink anymore. Quite literally in this instance, being that they were floating on a sea of wine.

"There is a prophecy, you see, one which you should be quite familiar with, coming to pass very soon," Dnefruuk picked up an old book and shuffled through it. Shaz was still unsure why they had had to brave Apocrypha just for that musty old book. Hermaeus Mora had just laughed once they were discovered and let his seekers have at them. Shaz was still sore from that fight.

"Here." Dnefruuk turned the book so Shaz could see what they were talking about. The page was covered in runes that Shaz could only vaguely grasp and strange circular diagrams that spun and interlocked in different ways as she watched.

"I see." Shaz lied. Dnefruuk, too absorbed in whatever the book said, nodded and didn't bother to elaborate. Shaz sighed and pulled a loaf of sweetbread from the food barrel. She looked out over the sea of wine and at the yellow sky. The clouds drifting lazily above were white, like on mundus, which Shaz wasn't sure about because the water was literally wine. She took a bite of sweetbread and twisted in the boat so her feet dipped in the drink.

One thing about Oblivion that she had not expected was that it was hot. All the time. Everywhere. Shaz slung her head over the edge of the boat and closed her eyes, listening to the wine foam and lap at the hull. She had another bite of sweetbread and opened her eyes.

She blinked.

"Dnefruuk." she said.

"Not now, child," the dwarf said, scribbling away in a different book.

"Yes now, child!" Shaz scrambled upright and fumbled for the looking glass.

"What are you-"Dnefruuk stopped short once they saw what she was looking at "oh. Oh OH!" they fumbled through their notes and the book.

"What is that? We should move, right? I’m gonna move us-"

"NO! That’s our way back to Mundus! I think." Dnefruuk yelled. The roar of the incoming projectile was getting quite loud now.

"No thats our way to drown in Sanguines fucking wine glass!"

"That’s your friend the Dragonborn! We need to follow him back to Mundus!"

"Are you fucking with-" Shaz was cut off by what was apparently her friend Do'Kath hitting the water about a foot off their port bow. Dnefruuk was already opening the sail and aiming the till. Shaz knew her place and immediately filled the sail with wind and got them moving into the trail of light left behind. Dnefruuk was on their feet and singing something She couldn't hear. A halo of red light illuminated the ship and before she knew it they were underwater. Underwine? Whatever. It was the familiar feeling of hopping between planes of oblivion with the combined feeling of falling an impossible distance. Shaz grabbed for the mast and held on for dear life.

A moment later they were out of the wine and surrounded by yellow orange flames. Shaz managed to blink the wine from her eyes and saw Dnefruuk had crawled to the bow of the ship and was poking their head over the side. Beyond them, Shaz saw stars. Below them, she thought she could see clouds. Right next to them she for sure could see a loaf of sweetbread fly up and disappear into the night, because it was indeed nighttime. The Hellfire shifted in the wind and Shaz saw what should have been a heartwarming sight, had they not been plummeting towards it at an alarming speed.

Spread out below her was Whiterun hold, the White River, Dragonsreach, and even Riverwood. As the ship spun she caught sight of the Throat of the World, about half a second before they crashed into it.

[][][][][][][][][][][]

She woke groggily, still in the Hellfire, still wrapped around the mast. A fresh dusting of snow covered everything, and the early light of morning painted it all a golden yellow. She stood shakily and immediately cast stoneflesh on herself to ward off the chill.

"Good morning, Mal Fahiil," came a deep rumbling voice. It sounded to her like an avalanche was speaking. She spun slowly to see none other than a giant dragon.

"Good...Morning?" Shaz managed. The dragon was bigger than the ones she had seen, but also much much older. He was gray and yellow and had a few chipped spikes.

"I am Paarthur-nax."

"Oh uh. Hi" Paarthurnax snorted and a wave of hot air washed over Shaz.

"Drem yol lok, wundiik. You expected someone else...drog do sadon vum. You have fallen far to stand here in my hofkiin...My home."

"I uh. Didn’t mean to, we were just trying to get home."

"Geh...Wake the Onik-Fahiil and take the Dovahkiin in your...your veysun, your boat. Zu'u fen bo...I will take you to my students." With that the great shape pulled back and waited, stretching in the sun.

Shaz looked behind her at the Hellfire. It had held up well, given the fact it had just crashed into a mountaintop. Sticking out of the snow nearby were Dnefruuk’s boots. Shaz jogged over and found the dwarf snoring and upside down.

She shook her head and looked around. Further behind the dragon was a crumbling word wall, and in the middle of it lay a familiar orange figure. She ran over and knelt beside Do'kath. As soon as she touched him her sleeve caught fire. With a yelp she buried it in the snow and looked closer at the snoring Khajiit. With a quick clairvoyance spell she saw he was covered in spectral flames. Fortunately she had just spent the past two years dealing with shit like that, so after a quick warding spell, she was able to drag him through the snow by his boots(one of which was missing) and into the boat. At that point, Dnefruuk had woken up and stumbled over to hide in the Hellfire.

"What is that!" they hissed to Shaz, pointing at the watching dragon.

"That's Paarthurnax. He’s the head of the Graybeards. I don’t think he'll kill us." She said.

"That’s reassuring. Why are you bringing him? He’s on fire." Dnefruuk nodded to Dek.

"He asked me to. Oh shit hold on," Shaz scrambled into the ship as Paarthurnax took flight. She quietly prayed to any divine listening that he wouldn’t just decide to throw them off the mountaintop as his claws gripped the Hellfire and they rose up in one great heave of the dragons wings.

#tesfest22 #skied rim #i do have like a good drawing of the mental image here #but its on my computer at home not the laptop im using rn #so stay tuned for that if yall want

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itssuppertim3 · 3 years

Text

Relax (Miraak x Reader)

Since Miraak always acts like an angsty teen, I decided to counteract it with a wholesome drabble :D

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"You use too much energy in one strike. You need to pay more attention to your lower body rather than your upper. Also, you need to charge with your knees. It may feel slower, but less movement is more effective and wastes less stamina."

Miraak stood in agitation as he watched his student idly slump to the ground. "I just... need a break," she huffed, smearing sweat from her brow. "It's difficult to believe that you managed to defeat me, Dragonborn," he noted. "I beat you with magic, a bow, and my voice. There's plenty of ways to take down a person other than using a blade." By now, her back was already bedded in the tall grass. "Come on, Miraak. We've been training all morning. Can't we just relax for a few minutes?" The younger Dragonborn pleaded. Miraak's arms were crossed and his index finger drummed against his forearm. "I don't relax. Now get to your feet and quit your wailing. There is much work to be done."

She ignored him. "Just come lay down with me." Although his mask had forbidden him to show his face, Miraak scrunched a wary brow and shook his head. "I am not tired," he declined. "Well I am. Plus, you should really drop your guard every once in a while. Stress is a heavy burden," she advised him, lifting her hand to beckon him over. "Let my guard down? What a foolish thing to say." Despite his words, Miraak's feet disobeyed him as he drew closer to his sluggish companion. He stared down at her, almost as if waiting for her to instruct him what to do next. She threw a smile at him and patted the spot beside her. "You'll like it, I promise." After a bit of convincing, he cautiously lowered himself onto the blanket of green.

The First Dragonborn's muscles quivered at his restlessness. His shoulder twitched when he felt Y/n's fingers brush over his wrist. "You're so tense," she mused. "Pretend with me for a second." His suspicion roused. "Pretend?" he repeated. Y/n nodded to the vast, blue sky above them. He ultimately followed her actions. "Let's pretend life is a safe and normal place. Pretend there isn't any danger or higher power to control us. There isn't anyone, no bandits, sabre cats, or dragons. It's just us and the trees and mountains," she gently murmured. Her words flowed from her tongue with such promise, like a river of wishful thinking.

Miraak observed a bundle of clouds moseying along without a care in the world. A safe and normal place... no Apocrypha or books; no gooey cluster of eyes stalking his every move. The dragon priest felt his body gradually unwind. "What would this place be called?" he asked. His apprentice's eyes met the slits of his mask and displayed a grin. "Whatever you want." He pondered a moment. "I think that it's suitable without a name. I fear that if it did, it would be yet another piece of knowledge in Hermaeus Mora's collection." Y/n peered at him in curiosity before caressing his hand with her own. He wasn't sure why, but he felt something thud against his ribs just then. "Alright. A place with no name. I like that," she chuckled.

As time trudged on, the sun began to feel warmer against Miraak's clothing and a comforting breeze kissed the exposure of his neck. His eyelids gradually lulled and started to feel heavier with each passing second. This was the first time in centuries when he finally felt at complete and utter ease. In his last few moments of consciousness, Miraak made the decision to relax more often in the future. He then fell into a cozy slumber alongside the girl who taught him how to do just that.

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UGHHSUWH i love writing in Miraak's P.O.V. he's such a soft boy under that rough exterior and he deserves the freaking world ( /;-;) /💞✨💓💗💫💘

#skyrim #miraak #elder scrolls #tesblr #drabble #x reader #fdb #ldb #one shot #apocrypha #y/n

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cryptid-called-ash · 2 years

Text

I posted 844 times in 2021

111 posts created (13%)

733 posts reblogged (87%)

For every post I created, I reblogged 6.6 posts.

I added 304 tags in 2021

#the dragonbon's favour - 99 posts

#demongodau - 37 posts

#oc: breyth alarenzin septim - 30 posts

#miraak - 26 posts

#the last dragonborn - 26 posts

#ldb - 25 posts

#the first dragonborn - 17 posts

#detective void - 16 posts

#alduin - 14 posts

#skyrim - 14 posts

Longest Tag: 139 characters

#series of increasingly ridiculous happenings centred around the pen draig twins roughly coalesced into a maddening but mostly tangible plot

My Top Posts in 2021

*HC that dragonborns experience dysphoria because their souls don’t match their bodies* feat. double dovahkiin and tried dragon dad

“Miraak?” The first dragonborn looks up from the book he’s reading, Deathbrand, to glance at Breyth. The youngest dragonborn sits at the base of a tree, etching the blade of a newly forged nordic sword with dragon words.

“Yes, zeymah?” the youth taps his fingers against the blade, chewing on his lip. He’s clearly got things on his mind.

“Do you feel… wrong somehow? Or is that just me?” Miraak pauses, fully turning to face his baby brother.

“What do you mean?” the ex-champion of Hermaeus Mora asks. The last dragonborn fidgets and sheaths the half etched sword. He ruffles his hair, pulling out the tie and fixing his ponytail.

“It’s just… I don’t feel right.” Breyth slumps against the base of the large oak, waving his hands. Miraak nods, brushing a platinum blonde curl out of his eyes.

“Yeah I’ve felt that before. You know intrinsically that inside, something isn’t right.” Breyth nods, turquoise eyes brimming with life, slit pupils blown wide with relief that he wasn’t crazy.

“Vogevoth.” the deep rumble of the world-eater’s voice draws their attention. The gigantic black dragon touches down near the tree where the boys sit. Breyth jumps to his feet, as does Miraak.

“Vogevoth? I don’t know that word.” the youngest dovah tilts his head. Alduin settles on the grass.

Miraak briefly wonders if it’s a good idea to rest so close to a road, but Breyth had said very few travellers venture this close to Lake Ilinalta aside from a few hunters and bandits. Nothing they couldn’t handle.

“Disconnect.” Alduin continues. “Your souls do not match the bodies they inhabit.”

48 notes • Posted 2021-07-31 23:12:35 GMT

also not canon to DB’s favour but i got to thinking

so the fight between miraak and vahlok sundered solsthiem right?

so reasonable, the two dragonborns duking it out would be so much worse.

what if, the fight in apocrypha is so destructive that Mora has to cast both dragonborns back to Nirn in order the preserve his realm.

imagine the other daedra speaking in hushed whispers of a battle between dragons that nearly torn apocrypha apart.

just imagine

73 notes • Posted 2021-09-30 01:40:12 GMT

sometimes a family is a half-dragon demi-god, an ex-daedric champion, the reincarnation of a legendary saint, the world-eater, a far-seer child they found in Rokistead and all the dragons they met along the way.

Breyth Alarenzin Septim, on his found family.

75 notes • Posted 2021-07-14 00:25:46 GMT

Skyrim sexuality head cannons for pride month

Breyth Alarenzin Septim(ldb)- aro/ace, true love is his sword Akmirra

Mirrak- bisexual and a bit of a slut tbh, he missed people and is making up for it

Teldreyn Sero- pansexual

Cassius Alarezin(hok)- gay

Martin Septim- biromatic demisexual

Cicero- asexual, he and Breyth have an aro/ace club with Babette and Alduin

Erik- he’s bisexual and a total himbo

Lydia- demisexual trans woman

Serana Volkihar- the best damn lesbian friend you ever did met

all dragons are cannon aro/ace

bonus: all dragonborns experience a level of dysphoria due to their dragon souls. the more awakened as a dragon you are, the worse the dysphoria gets.

double bonus: skooma lets you temporally shift into a full on dovah. you take a hit of skooma and use dragon aspect, takes about an hour to wear off

139 notes • Posted 2021-06-12 18:17:56 GMT

can we talk about how funny Nerevarine Teldryn is?

like imagine him not telling the dragonborn, keeping it as his closest guarded secret. but also the dragonborn not telling Teldryn about themselves either.

picture the db using a healing spell ever time they absorb a soul so it doesn’t look sus.

imagine them going to Neloth and him being all “well if it’s not the last dragonborn and the nerevarine.” and they look at each other like

204 notes • Posted 2021-06-28 22:48:45 GMT

Get your Tumblr 2021 Year in Review →

#my 2021 tumblr year in review #your tumblr year in review #fricking eh #i'll be honest #i barely read this #have fuuuun

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sassyfahliil · 3 years

Text

"You think I like ANYTHING thats going on right now Inigo!?" she seethed, "once again I am going to be fucking screwed over. Whether immediately after or in a decade. Fucking. Bullshit." Inigo and Teldryn only watched on as she kicked a pot, Inigo filching at the clang it made when it made contact with the wall. Teldryn lifted up hands indicating he isn't getting himself involved and went over to the fireplace in the manor to work on dinner.

Inigo looks back to Teldryn and back at Lily who is just staring at a wall, fists clinched. He grabs her wrist and slowly walk her out the door and she just ... allowed it. No resistance, no comment, nothing. It sent a chill up his spine but they need to walk. He has to talk to her this time. It isn't going to be like last time, not that he can help it. Then he heard her murmur, "I do not have a choice do I Inigo?" follow by a long sign and. Silence. They are a bit out of town, a bit past the Earth Stone, looking across the ocean. "Get the secrets from the Skaal, give them to Mora in order to challenge Miraak."

"And Hermaeus Mora won't just want these secrets, would he?" He wants to be wrong, he wants her to disagree with him and hold her head proudly. But she just sat down.

"'Replace him with a more loyal servant' he told me," she couldn't help but laugh, "of course." Inigo sat down next to her and watched as she laughed and laugh before resuming her silence. Head hung low staring into the ashen ground.

"There has to be another way, what about-"

"I already went through all the other Black Books Inigo. All, duds." Letting out an exasperated sigh. "Fates really have in it for me. For fuck sake Mora proclaim himself as the master of Tides of fate. I was always doomed to begin with."

"The old dragon .. did say you were ... doom driven ha ha ..." Inigo was having trouble lightening the mood. "This isn't right, haven't you given enough?"

"Apparently not ... " she starts tracing circles in the ash sand ... "I suppose fates care not what happen to me as long as I get it done," before smashing it, "not even Akatosh cares." Inigo just feels the venom in her tone when she said Akatosh.

Inigo got to pondering ... while he doubts its going to end up like last time, he still rather not seeing Lily down again. Or as injured. Quiet. Going up against another dragonborn is going to be rough. In the past Lily would jump on the opportunity to fight a dragonborn, but now? He isn't so sure. Then, he got an idea, "you can only replace a champion if you kill the previous one right?"

"For Daedric Princes? Yeah why - ... oh. OH OH OH!" Lily stood up, pulling Inigo up with her before hugging him, "why haven't I thought of this before!" Before she starts taking a few paces past him to walk in circles. "I just have to challenge him right?"

"Uh huh ..." while Inigo was happy she caught on, he was lost to what she could possibly be thinking ...

"If I don't kill him in Apocrypha and got him out," Inigo shakes his head along, "and THEN kill him, I won't necessarily be Mora's champion!" and immediately froze and was lost again. Took him a moment to collect his thoughts as Lily rambles to herself in a quiet murmur.

"Would that work? Wouldn't keeping him alive be more conductive?"

Lily stops her circling, pondering for a moment, "I guess?" before wondering around in a circle more, "but why would I keep him alive? He took my dragon souls Inigo!"

"Don't think those dragon souls are good for you Lily."

"Bull. shit." Inigo been bugging her for a while about her consumption of the dragon souls, its not as if she can stopped it. At least until Miraak showed up. He is just being overly concern she shouldn't concern herself with his opinion- she stops herself and sighs, "fine, if he gives me a reason to I may keep him alive. May. But we have work to do."

"Work?"

"Yes," she nods before looking at Inigo and placing both her hands on his shoulders, "like how the fuck we be able to get out."

"Aren't the Black Books ..."

"Negative." Retracting her hands back, she sighs and cross her arms, "Mora control them. I think. Plus, Miraak would of been able to use one to get one home."

"Lily, if Hermaeus control them, couldn't he kept them away?"

... "Right, good point. ... So if I bring one with me ... he could ... get out."

"Yes!"

"Then I kill him."

Right. Inigo forgets dragons tend to fight to the death and doubts it could end like it did between Lily and Odahviing ... still. If Lily can prove she is stronger he might yield. Might. Regardless, at least Lily is in better spirits. More talkative than when they left that dwemer ruin and killed the dragon outside. Maybe she can change her fate after all.

And she was in high spirits. She has a fighting chance to change what so call fate plans for her and damn it all she will find a way ...

S̵̢̬̣͚̓͛̋t̵̙͉̄r̶̘̹̦͊͆́͠ù̸̪́g̵̡͙̠͎̊̍͝͠g̴̢͖̗͇̀̾ļ̸̗̗͑è̴͉̮̩͌͠ ̷͈͂̀̏d̷̖͍͉̓͜ǒ̶̫̲̝̈́̀v̷̡͉̙̘̀̌͗͌à̵̰̖̿̚h̵̯̝̪͝k̷̢̂̀i̸̻͚̟̹̊́̃̚i̴̡̺̻̿̃͝n̸̪̘̄͗̐͊,̵̝̆͋͗ ̸̲̗̋̈i̴̬͙̕͜t̵̨̹͌ ̸̛̮̎͘a̶̛̠͒̈m̵̭̠͒̀̆̓ụ̸̲͈̖̾̾̆s̷̛͖̞͓̈ȇ̶̙̺̳̃͜s̴̭͛̋̕ ̶̣̣̃͜m̴̭͂ē̵̼ ̵̙̄̉̚s̵̱̫͙̫̿́͝o̷̧̼͝

#OC: Lilthuryn #tes ramblings and headcanon #hello i was just; in the mood to write a possible convo as to why keep miraak alive!#plus inigo does not want see lily go full dragon; she should stay on the ground; probably safer

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drabblesforsanguine · 4 years

Text

Letting Go - Oneshot

Summary: Miraak lets go of the past and looks towards his future.

Pairing: Miraak/f!LDB

Warnings: fluff, flirting, light angst, brief descriptions of ptsd, mentions of violence, possible thalassophobia triggers

Word Count: 1879

Prompt: none

A/N: this is the first oneshot I've ever posted on this site, so pls be gentle lol. Also I'm on mobile, so sorry about any spelling/grammatical errors. Find me on ao3

The only sound to be heard was the soft splash of the oars cutting through the water. No sound of waves crashing against the shore or the cry of seagulls, for even they didn't fly out this far.

If he squinted hard enough, Miraak could just barely make out the rocky outline of the northern coast far behind the Last Dragonborn.

The midday sky above was overcast and the ocean breeze was bitter. More than once he'd seen her shiver from a particularly harsh gale only to pretend that she didn't. A storm was brewing on the sea behind him, though with luck it would be many hours before it reached them.

"Not much further, now." Her eyes were fixed on the dark waves as she spoke.

"You've been saying that for the past hour." He grumbled, his arms starting to feel sore from this seemingly endless amount of rowing.

She looked at him out of the corner of her eye, a faint teasing smirk on her lips.

"Well, this time I mean it."

His gaze flickered down to the wooden chest resting by her feet, his curiosity still piqued as to its contents and purpose for being here.

He'd asked about it at the beginning of their voyage, among many other questions, but of course she'd just shrugged him off like she always does and said he'd find out once they were far out at sea. Well, they were far out enough.

He stopped rowing and fixed her with a hard stare.

"I'm not rowing another inch until you tell me what we're doing out here."

She finally turned and faced him fully, one of her dark eyebrows arched upwards. With a dead serious look in her eyes, she spoke.

"Isn't it obvious? I'm going to kill you, lock your corpse in this chest and dump it in the sea."

He blinked at her once, twice.

"Is it impossible for you not to act like a child all the time?"

She rolled her eyes then, with a sigh, she leaned over the chest and lifted the lid. Miraak peered inside with curiosity. His eyes narrowed at what he saw.

"Are those..."

"The Black Books, yes." She said, wrapping her arms around herself as another breeze rolled by.

True to her word, inside the confines of the chest were all seven of Hermaeus Mora's forbidden tomes, each individually wrapped in animal skins and tightly bound with rope.

"He will not be happy if we do this." Miraak cautioned after a short pause, his eyes still fixed on the evil books before him.

The books that had brought him nothing but suffering. Just looking at them made him feel... uneasy, for lack of a better word. It was the same feeling he always had in Apocrypha: alone, yet constantly under watch by an unseen entity.

She just shrugged nonchalantly. "He's not exactly thrilled with me anyways."

He stared at her, his brows pinched together. "Why?"

For a moment she appeared confused. "For starters, I shot him with Auriels bow, temporarily destroyed his plane of Oblivion and stole his favorite champion?"

He rolled his eyes and huffed out a breath. "No. I mean, why are you doing this?" He gestured towards the chest to make his meaning clear.

"Oh," she mumbled, suddenly avoiding eye contact with him. When she finally focused back on him, it was with a seriousness he'd rarely seen from her before.

"These books have brought us nothing but misery -- you most of all." He winced involuntarily at her words, but she continued. "Maybe doing this will give you- us, some closure. If not, then at least it'll piss Hermaeus Mora off, which is good enough for me."

He scoffed, "He is probably laughing at us as we speak, you know."

"Yeah. Well, he can choke on his own tentacles for all I care. Now, are you gonna keep rowing or what?" She asked, feigning irritation as she shut the lid of the chest.

He rolled his eyes but seeing as she revealed why they were there, he stayed true to his word and continued pushing the boat further out to sea.

"You are too eager to defy the Daedra." He admonished lightheartedly.

She shrugged, "We defeated him once. We can do it again."

He gave no response, though there were many things he wanted to say. Most notably that she was naive to think they could defeat a Daedric Prince twice. They'd merely gotten lucky the first time. He wanted to say that, but he didn't.

After a brief silence, she spoke again.

"How long has it been now?"

"Nine months, 14 days." He answered without skipping a beat.

"How time flies," she mused. "It feels like only yesterday that I was nursing you back from the brink of death."

"Don't remind me."

She smirked at his sour tone.

"Come on, I wasn't that bad of a caretaker."

Again, he didn't respond.

Miraak would much rather forget those first few weeks after he was freed from Apocrypha -- after she freed him from Apocrypha -- when he was so weak and ill that he couldn't even walk by himself, and he was forced to rely on the Dovahkiin's good will to help him.

He hated feeling so powerless. So vulnerable.

He'd learned from an young age how to take care of himself, but all those years trapped in Oblivion made him forget. For a long time it pained him to admit how much he needed her in the beginning, to help him remember how to be human. It wasn't quite as painful to admit now, but he'd still rather not be reminded of it.

"Is it such a bad thing to let others take care of you from time to time?" She asked, as if reading his thoughts.

"In my time, relying too much on others was a good way to get yourself killed."

"You're not in that time anymore."

She looked at him with a sincerity that made his insides ache. He almost couldn't stand it -- these feelings she aroused in him.

He looked down at the chest again, just so he didn't have to bear that look anymore.

"This should be far enough." She said suddenly.

Miraak stopped rowing and secured the oars in place. He watched curiously as she reached into her satchel laying on the bench beside her and withdrew an iron padlock. She paused for a split second before reaching out towards him with the padlock.

With little hesitation on his part, he took it from her open palm, his fingers lightly grazing against her skin. He saw goosebumps raise on her arm as he withdrew his fingers, but chalked it up to the cold. For a Nord, she didn't handle the cold very well.

His hands felt heavier than usual as he reached forward and snapped the lock shut around the latch, sealing the chest.

When he looked up at her, there was a hint of relief in her eyes. Like a huge weight had already been lifted from her shoulders. He felt it too.

"Ready?"

He nodded, unwavering.

They both stood carefully as to not tip the small rowboat over, each grabbing one side of the chest, and leveraged it precariously on the boats edge. Kneeling side by side, they shared one last look of determination then, after a deep breath, they pushed the chest overboard. Together they peered over the edge and watched it sink into the dark water below. With all luck, it will remain lost to the depths of the Sea of Ghosts forever.

Then they waited.

A minute passed, two minutes. For what felt like forever they remained there, holding their breaths as they stared into the icy water. Nothing ever happened. No mass of angry, slimy tentacles appeared over them, threatening to disembowel them for desecrating his precious tomes.

When it finally felt safe to do so, they each exhaled their long held breaths. Relief finally settled in his bones.

She spoke after another significant pause, if only to break the ice.

"When I 'won' the Oghma Infinium, the first thing I did with it was drop it into the sea. At least now it's wretched cousins can keep it company."

"Mora will not let this go unpunished. Sooner or later he will have his revenge." He hated that his voice wavered ever so slightly. He was never one to show fear. He could feel it, yes, but he certainly never showed it.

If she noticed, she gave no indication.

"Yes, he will," she said, her tone not lacking in surety. "And when he does, we will face him together."

Then she turned towards him, a faint smile on her face. His stomach nearly jumped out of his throat when her hand slowly slid over to rest atop of his own. Strangely though, he didn't move away. He should've moved away, but he found that he didn't want to.

Even before he'd been imprisoned for thousands of years, Miraak had gone out of his way to avoid intimacy. It was nothing but a weakness to be used against him. After being completely devoid of the touch of others for so long, he'd forgotten how nice it could feel.

Seeming to act on a will of it's own, his hand turned upwards and sought her own significantly smaller one. Her ice cold skin immediately warmed at his touch.

"Together." He repeated with a nod.

Her smile grew a little bit brighter, her cheeks turning a faint pink. It was only due to the cold air, or so he told himself.

"But until then," he continued, "let's get somewhere warm. You're freezing out here."

She gave his hand a little squeeze before pulling away, much to his disappointment. He tried not to let it show, but the way her smirk grew even more told him he was not as stoic as he thought.

His disappointment quickly faded, however, as he watched her take a seat on the bench he'd previously occupied. Still smiling, she crossed one leg over the other and pat the empty space next to her.

"Yes, let's go home."

Home. She'd never called it that before. It was always 'my house' or 'the house', but never 'home'.

Struggling to contain his own smile, he sat down next to her and started unfastening the oars. Before he could react, she scooted closer to him and huddled against his side, digging her hands into his robes for warmth.

She was shivering worse than he'd realized.

He wrapped one of his arms around her to grab the other oar. She angled her body in a way that allowed him to row while still being close enough to absorb his warmth. With a tranquil sigh, she rested her cheek on his chest, the peek of her head stopping just below his chin.

He tried to tell himself she was just cold, but he knew better. He'd always known better.

It was in that moment, with his ferocious little Dragonborn cuddled against his body for warmth, he realized that she was his home, and to his surprise, that wasn't such a scary thought.

For the first time in a long time, he had something worth holding onto and he never planned on letting go.

#the elder scrolls #tes writing #miraak x ldb #miraak #ldb #tes fanfiction #oneshot

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