#char barrow

[pimsri]

Yngol Barrow

#yngol barrow #skyrim #tesblr #the elder scrolls #the elder scrolls skyrim #tes skyrim #tes v skyrim #khajiit #skyrim khajiit #dragonborn #dovahkiin #her name is filka and she's my first skyrim char :) #OC: filka #filka #pimsriart #pimsriart2023

[luminaxplushie]

redressed my earth rep recently, thoughts?

#trailcam recordings #flight rising #dragon share #flight rising dragon share #flight rising dragon showoff #char: barrow #he’s a gravedigger who is really sad and keeps the ghosts company

[fuckyeahmarxismleninism]

By Nora Barrows-Friedman

During its two-week siege on al-Shifa Hospital, Israel destroyed “all buildings and departments without exception, in a clear crime that shames humanity,” Gaza’s government media office stated.

The army withdrew at dawn on Monday, after facing fierce battles from Palestinian resistance factions.

#Al-Shifa Hospital #GazaGenocide #war crimes #massacre #Israel #FreePalestine #resistance #armed struggle #Struggle La Lucha

[serregon]

losing it over the dream scene from the lays

'Tis told that Turin then turned him back and fared to Flinding, and flung him down to sleep soundless till the sun mounted to the high heavens and hasted westward. A vision he viewed in the vast spaces of slumber roving: it seemed he roamed up the bleak boulders of a bare hillside to a cup outcarven in a cruel hollow, whose broken brink bushes limb-wracked by the North-wind's knife in knotted anguish did fringe forbidding. There black unfriendly was a dark thicket, a dell of thorn-trees with yews mingled that the years had fretted. The leafless limbs they lifted hopeless were blotched and blackened, barkless, naked, a lifeless remnant of the levin's flame, charred chill fingers changeless pointing to the cold twilight.. There called he longing: 'O Beleg, my brother, O Beleg, tell me where is buried thy body in these bitter regions? ' -- and the echoes always him answered 'Beleg'; yet a veiled voice vague and distant he caught that called like a cry at night o'er the sea's silence: 'Seek no longer. My bow is rotten in the barrow ruinous; my grove is burned by grim lightning; here dread dwelleth, none dare profane this angry earth, Orc nor goblin; none gain the gate of the gloomy forest by this perilous path; pass they may not, yet my life has winged to the long waiting in the halls of the Moon o'er the hills of the sea. Courage be thy comfort, comrade lonely! '

#i mean when i not losing it over these boys #narnposting

[changelingsandothernonsense]

WIP Whenever

Thanks for tagging me @mareenavee You get art and some writing this week.

So start with the art:

Getting there. ~~~

And a little bit from Serious Mistakes chapter 1.

She found the first victim fused to the ash, the body burnt beyond all recognition, flames dancing across its surface. Ahead of her was another, burnt and blackened, the melted remains of an iron great sword sticking out of its torso, still molten. This one’s armour had survived the inferno, the distinctive Bonemold of the Redoran Guard.

“What are you gawkin’ at?”

Sydari looked up, a figure clad in ramshackle chitin armour and leather approached her. His features were obscured by one of those ugly chitin helms with the thick goggles and an old, ratty scarf that covered the rest of his face. He seemed familiar, maybe she had seen him at the Netch?

“You did this?” She accused, her hand instinctively reaching for her dagger.

“And?” He answered bluntly.

“How many of these were guards?” She inquired, wishing she had chosen to wear some armour instead of the light tunic she’d left on.

“Oh, I don’t know, one?” The man turned around and walked towards one of the charred corpses that littered the beach, crouching to examine it, “I think that one was already dead when I got here”.

“What do you mean he was already dead?” she questioned, following him down the beach.

“Look I’m kinda busy here, either make yourself useful or get out of my face,” He answered.

“Tell me what happened, and I won’t report you to the guard” Sydari threatened, as she unsheathed her dagger from her belt.

“Yeah, that’s not going to happen,” the stranger shook his head before moving on to the next corpse.

“I mean it,” She didn’t.

“Well, go on then,” he said dismissively, before crouching to examine the charred remains, “Nothing on this one either.”

Sydari watched him as he moved along the beach, systematically examining each body as he went. There had to be at least twelve, maybe thirteen bodies littering the beach, most of them charred beyond recognition, but a few seemed to have survived the inferno with some of their belongings intact. Sydari knelt to pick the valuables off one of the more intact bodies closer to the cliffs. Not much was left outside of a few slightly melted Septims and a charred piece of paper.

“What you got there, Outlander?” Sydari jumped as the stranger took the piece of paper out of her hand, strange how she never heard him approach.

“Well, that’s a start,” he handed the burnt paper back to Sydari, “Might want to bring this information to Captain Veleth, I think he might find it… useful,” He readjusted the scarf that covered his face before turning back towards the Barrow, murmuring something about n’wahs that she didn’t quite catch. She carefully unfolded the note, the handwriting was similar to the fliers she had collected.

Wait at Bloodskaal Barrow until further orders,

I will try and infiltrate the city until the other group makes their move.

Ramodo.

She’d found them.

#wips #look at the things

[wellthebardsdead]

Henwen: *went on a complete rampage after finding out who his real father was and what he did to his mother, now ripping apart his tomb with his bare hands after freeing Kodlak from Hircines grasp* YOU!!! *grabs hold of the giant stone coffin and rips it open grabbing Ysgramors Draugrfied corpse* YOU RAPED MY MOTHER!! YOU ENSLAVED AND SLAUGHTERED MY PEOPLE! YOU LEARNED HOW TO WRITE JUST TO DOCUMENT THE BEST WAY TO KILL ELVES!!! *screams making the tomb shake and rumble, threatening to collapse on all of them*

Aela: He’s? Ysgramors son?

Vilkas: Does that matter right now?! He’s going to bring the whole barrow down on our heads!

Farkas: IT DOES MATTER! *snarls at them* HES IN PAIN! THAT CUNT WE ALL FUCKING WORSHIPPED IS THE REASON FOR IT! YSGRAMOR IS NO HERO! HES A MONSTER!!! *looks over at Kaidan*

Kaidan: *nods*

Farkas and Kaidan: *both start slowly closing in ready to pounce on the enraged atmoran snow elf*

Henwen: *raising wuuthrad over his head, staring down at Ysgramors corpse as it’s eyes begin to glow blue, the Atmorans soul re-entering his body to fight* you. You don’t deserve to be remembered.

Ysgramor: *gargles with dried vocal cords as his body cracks and bends back to life in death* You- I remember your eyes.

Henwen: Good. They were my mothers. *moves to bring the axe down and freezes seeing two long swords stab into the draugr taking its head off in the process* what- I- *jumps a little as two strong bodies press against his, as Kaidan and farkas abandon their weapons to hold him* I…

Kaidan: shhhh. It’s okay now sweetheart… he can’t hurt you…

Farkas: *crying into his shoulder* I’m so sorry- I’m sorry for believing he was a hero, after what he did to you, to your mother, to your kin. I’m so sorry darling…

Henwen: *drops the axe letting it clang against the ancient stone floor, as he starts to openly sob* he raped her, he raped her and she made me, he killed her for giving me to Hross so I could be free, and he killed him too!! And now he gets to be remembered as a hero! It isn’t fair! IT ISNT FAIR!! *cries hugging onto them as they hold him tighter*

Aela: … *looks at them, then at Ysgramor… then at vilkas* …

Vilkas: … *walks over grabbing Ysgramors head* may you. And your ilk, be forever remembered for what you really are… *tosses the head into the fire Henwen used to free kodlak, letting it burn beside the charred skull of the hagraven as the snow prince’s cries fill the echoing void of the chamber*

#Ysgramor canonically is a terrible person #his axe was originally named elf grinder #he enslaved the snow elves he didn’t slaughter and forced them to build his cities #and he learned how to read and write just to document the best ways to slaughter elves #his own axe has the face of a screaming elf engraved in it #Skyrim #henwen dragonborn #falmer dragonborn #kaidan skyrim #aela the huntress #farkas skyrim #vilkas skyrim #ocs #yes henwens mother was the snow queen #tw: implied rape #tw: rape #tw: trauma #tw: slavery

[jelazakazone]

Liminal spaces in ep 7

Thanks so much to @barrows-teeth​ for the gifs and comments. All mistakes are mine. Find the master post here. 

“Bully” starts with “Bang, Bang” playing and Charlie looking in the mirror in his room, so we’ve got a mix of moods: upbeat song, but insecure Charlie, which is reinforced when he flashes back to a bad moment with Ben after Tori asks him if Nick is his “boyfriend.” Interestingly, Charlie is framed by open closet doors behind him.

As his dad drops him off and tells him to call if any of the boys does anything nasty, Charlie reassures him with a big smile that “NIck’s going to be there. [He’s] going to be fine.”  Nick is waiting for him outside, in fact, and gives him a big hug in the wide open air where no one else is. 

As they ride down the escalator, they are being a little flirty and Nick reassures Charlie that his friends will be fine — “Ben and Harry aren’t coming.” But the first hint of things going awry happens when they step off the escalator and see both Ben and Harry. I think this is the first time their private bubble had been burst. We’ve seen Charlie look worried before, but I think this might be the first time we’ve seen Nick look this nervous in front of his friends.

As they walk through the pink/blue/purple lit corridor with words like Super Hero and Horror and Scifi written on the wall, Nick tries to draw Charlie away from the group, to reassure him that he didn’t set him up to be hurt. They do seem to manage to resurrect their little bubble. Nick touches Charlie’s elbow and calls him “Char” before he pulls away and they end up laughing together. Their body language is very close even if they don’t actually continue touching each other.

In the theater, we realize they are at a horror film. We are led to believe the horror is on screen and they can walk out, free and clear. In fact it is once they leave that the horror unfolds — Harry starts badgering Charlie. When Harry suggests that Charlie has a crush on Nick, Charlie denies it, so as to protect Nick, and Nick looks like he could cry. He’s clearly upset with himself that Charlie’s doing all the heavy lifting and Nick is just standing by, silently. For the first time, we see Nick’s private little bubble burst. He may not be experiencing the bullying/homophobia first hand, but his movie date definitely did not go to plan.

Outside, on the parking deck, Nick apologizes for his so-called friends. I think this is another first for Nick — actually voicing disdain for the people he hangs out with, even though we saw him say in ep 5 that he wasn’t sure he fit in with them any more. Out in the open, with a wall between him and his friends, this realization is growing teeth. Nick chases after Charlie, to apologize for what happened. Charlie assures Nick that “it’s ok [he’s] honestly used to it by now”. Nick has a sad and horrified look on his face as Charlie turns away.  Charlie having to lie to keep them a secret and watching Harry bully Charlie acts as a catalyst and Nick boils over. 

Then, in the parking lot, after Nick goes back in, Ben Hope just has to have one more dig at Charlie. He pops up, almost like a “jump scare”, and tries to get Charlie to out Nick. When Charlie resists, Ben has to poke a little further with “let bullies walk all over you” as he bullies Charlie.  “I never liked you. I’m not even gay. I just felt really sorry for you.” Ben has to know how much damage this comment will do to Charlie. This time Charlie is not honest with his dad and acts like nothing happened. The real horrors Nick and Charlie have to face are some of their past choices. 

We see two very different interactions in the same space. Charlie is used to the comments, yes, but it doesn’t mean they don’t still hurt. 

Meanwhile, Nick is so very not used to the comments and he is on FIRE. He charges back in through the doorway, backlit in glorious, bi-colored lighting (similar to the lighting at Harry’s party and the bowling alley), and confronts Harry. As at the party, Harry is flanked by all the lads, but Nick doesn’t care. He is leading with his whole heart now and that means standing up for Charlie, consequences be damned. Nick is realizing the tenuousness of the private bubble and he doesn’t like it. He isn’t used to being disrespected and doesn’t think he needs to just put up with it. 

In the car, on the way home, Sarah Nelson asks Nick what happened. Like most teens, he responds with “There’s not really anything to tell.” Sarah is clearly frustrated with this answer, which makes me wonder if Nick had had problems getting into fights before he met Charlie. Nick rubs Nellie’s ears and then tells his mum what happened. He ends with, “I’m just so angry at myself for not seeing that all my friends suck.”  Sarah says “fighting’s not the answer” and Nick replies “I know. He just used a really bad word,” and Sarah says “Charlie’s a really special friend, isn’t he?”  Nick takes a moment before agreeing “Yeah. He is.” He is sorting out his past choices with his current self in the comfort and security of the car with his mom driving. 

The next morning, Charlie seems subdued, both as he wakes up in his bedroom and on the bus on the way to school. As he passes the school gates, he notices Harry’s bloody lip and asks what happened. “Ask Nick Nelson, he’s got some serious anger issues.” Nick is missing, though. The public space of the picnic tables, where he previously started every school day, has changed for Nick. He is clearly no longer comfortable there. 

Charlie walks down the corridor to the classroom, shaken. This is not the giddy Charlie we saw in episode 4 after The Kiss. He slides into his chair and Nick turns and says “Hi”. Charlie brushes right past this greeting (maybe the first time ever?) and jumps right to “What happened?”, pointing at Nick’s black eye. The private little bubble in the classroom seems to be holding up just fine. Charlie is concerned that Nick got in a fight because of him; Nick doesn’t see it that way at all. Charlie shouldn’t “have to be (used to it) People shouldn’t be saying stuff about him at all.” Charlie tries to apologize. Nick won’t accept it. And he says “I don’t even want to be friends with those people any more. … I’m tired of all of them.” And then he lays his head on Charlie’s shoulder for comfort (and we all melt, again). How no one else notices this is only explained by their little bubble. 

Charlie heads to the art room for lunch. Mr Ajayi is absent. The art room is empty. Charlie sits on the floor on his favorite tree, which has blossomed, just like Nick and Charlie’s relationship. Charlie takes his lunch out and puts it away without even attempting to eat it. Charlie is miserable and oblivious. 

Meanwhile, Elle (sitting next to a not-so-subtle rainbow umbrella) and Tao are sitting on a park bench talking about the problem with Harry and Charlie.  Tao thinks it’s his fault for provoking Harry. Elle tells Tao that Harry was in her maths class last year and that he sometimes made comments to her. “Surprise, he’s transphobic as well.”  And then she spills the beans, “I’m not surprised Nick started a fight with him, if Harry was being a dick to Charlie.” Tao asks her outright if something is going on between Nick and Charlie and she says “yes”.  Interesting that this news about Nick and Charlie is coming out in the open air and not through text or whispered behind closed doors. But Tao is hurt and angry to find out indirectly through Elle and that he’s the last of the group to know. (My one comment on whether or not it was right for Elle to tell Tao about Nick and Charlie is that teens, as well as adults, fuck up sometimes. It was a mistake. Let’s hope everyone learned from it.)

At the end of this long day, in bed, Charlie texts Nick that he wants to talk at lunch the next day. It takes Charlie several tries to get the right words. I wonder if it feels more heartbreaking to us because this should be the place he feels most secure, in his bed with his stuffed animal next to him, and yet he’s (over)thinking about his relationship with Nick and how he must be the cause of everyone’s suffering.

Elle pops by Tao’s with a container of cookies and proposes they watch a movie. It is a way for them to connect after the conversation in the park. Tao’s mom tells him to leave the door open a smidge, because moms have to embarrass their kids in front of their friends. But also, could this be the first time that Tao admits to himself that he really does have a crush on Elle? 

In his bedroom, Elle fixes Tao’s “potato” drawing and Tao says he’ll “treasure it always.” Then he says, “sorry about earlier, I know it’s not your fault [Charlie] hasn’t told me.” “I think I know why he hasn’t told me.” Then he goes on a rant about how Charlie is worried that Tao will out Nick and how Charlie doesn’t care about Tao any more because Charlie’s in a relationship now. Tao admits that he doesn’t know why he’s so scared about being alone and Elle reassures him that she felt that way at the beginning of her first term at Higgs, but everything has turned out ok. We’ve seen the two of them have heartfelt conversations in Tao’s bedroom before, so I’m not surprised this one happens here. 

At the end of Episode 7, we have two scenes happening concurrently. One is Tao sitting alone outside at the picnic tables and the other is Nick and Charlie in the lunchroom. This creates a tension between the two situations, but also, it reflects the inner conflicts Nick, Charlie, and Tao are having. Charlie is trying to break up with Nick (thinking this will protect Nick from bullying and/or Charlie ruining his life), Tao and Charlie have hit a roadblock in their friendship, and Nick is struggling with coming out. The cafeteria is a heteronormative environment where it’s hard for Nick to be his authentic self. 

Tao reaches out to Charlie to join him for lunch since Isaac has lunch duty, but Charlie had already agreed to talk to Nick. Tao gets mad and says “Don’t bother. We’re barely friends anymore.” 

Nick finally shows up at the cafeteria table and asks Charlie what’s up. 

Then we flip back to Harry provoking Tao. “Not in the mood for that fight?” “Only if it’s in the form of a board game or a cake eating contest.”  Harry is really in the mood for a fight. He grabs Tao’s “shoe potato” drawing and walks away with it.  Harry invading Tao’s space outside is the last straw for Tao. Tao pushes him down, grabs the drawing, and then throws apple juice on Harry. 

The mood is tense from the eruption of the fight when we go back to Nick and Charlie. Charlie is clearly nervous. “So, I’ve been thinking. About me and you… I’ve been making your life really difficult … so I’ve been thinking, maybe it would be better if we just ….” 

They are interrupted by a kid announcing that Harry Greene is fighting some year 10 by the picnic tables. Nick and Charlie immediately know who he’s fighting and race outside. Nick pulls Harry off Tao and would have happily stepped into Tao’s place, but a teacher pulls Harry away. Tao and Charlie go in a different direction. 

Charlie asks Tao what happened and Tao loudly says “Why didn’t you tell me you and Nick were together? I thought we were friends, but I guess you’ve just forgotten about me. This is all your fault. Just leave me alone.” Tao is clearly quite hurt and he’s throwing the worst barbs because he knows it will hurt Charlie, which we can see when Charlie says “What?” Again, this had to happen outside, where the air could be cleared, so to speak. And it has reinforced Charlie’s perception that he’s ruining everyone’s life. 

#heartstopper #meta #jela rambles #yes I will dissect this show into a zillion pieces of confetti #liminal spaces #doorways

[dalishthunder]

Destiny Waits for No One

Chapter 4 - Fool's Gold

Pairing: Eventual Nebarra/LDB (Gender Neutral Reader) Other Characters: Kaidan, Xelzaz, Lucifer, Khash, Inigo, and Lucien Rating: Mature Words: 1875 Additional notes: Very slow burn, frenemies to lovers, Nebarra is an ass, Xelzaz continues to be the coolest Read on AO3

The wing beats were growing distant, and with a quick glance to the skies, you sprinted forward, coming to a sliding halt by the survivor's side. Already, you could feel the heat radiating from their armor.

"Fan out! Get Khash to that barrow we saw not too far back!" You called out over your shoulder.

"On it, Dargonborn!" Behind you, you could hear Khash's protests as Lucifer coaxed her to follow him.

"Inigo, I heard it in that direction, scout it out. No heroics, get back here alive."

"Aye, aye."

As he disappeared into the mists, you reached down to the poor sap, gently helping them sit up. "Are you alright?"

"I'm bleeding out like a gutted nebarra. Of course I'm not alright." He hissed, breath shaky, coming in ragged gasps.

"Hold still, I can heal you." You'd been practicing your healing hands since the last dragon attack. Xelzaz had been more than willing to teach you.

"No!" He coughed, the sound wet, almost bubbling in his throat. "I've seen the kind of scars the legion came away with.Healing potions."

You nodded, fishing around in your pack and pulling out one of the condensed formulas you'd been experimenting with. "Here. Drink this then."

He lifted his helmet only a fraction, and you saw only a very bloody chin as he gulped it down.

You listened intently for the sounds of anyone else, but all of the other bodies were charred beyond recognition. "I'm sorry about your friends."

"Not my friends." His breaths began to steady after a moment, the potion beginning to work its magic.

"O... kay then." You could vaguely see a set of gold eyes staring warily at you from the eye slits of his helm. "Well, who did we save today?"

"... Nebarra. Just... just call me Nebarra." Something about the way he said it almost sounded... defeated.

"That's um... an interesting name." You said, not quite liking how it had rolled off his tongue.

"It isn't a name, it's an insult." He rasped, and he stretched his back, joints popping and crackling like the fire that had consumed the carriage. "It means unwelcome and foreigner in Altmer."

You frowned, "Why would you want me to call you something like that?"

"Because I don't want to tell you my name, and I feel like a bloody nebarra in Skyrim." Strength was beginning to come back to his voice, and his cadence coupled with the condescending way you spoke was... grating.

But you figured he did just survive something traumatic so you let it slide, and you stood, offering your hand to help him to his feet. "Alright then. Where were you headed? Do we need to get you anywhere?"

Nebarra got up on his own. "Not anymore. I was a caravan guard. Ernurd wanted to avoid the roads, so we stuck to the forest. Figured it was contraband or something... must not have been that important if he left most of it out here though. Not that any of that bleeding matters with a giant lizard that can light up a whole valley flying about."

Inigo crept around the cart, "It appears to have headed for the mountains. We should be safe for now."

"Oh, great, a cat.Let me guess, you have contraband as well?" The altmer sounded bored.

You stepped between him and Inigo, "No contraband here. Just a group of intrepid adventurers."

"... Lovely. Well, I unfortunately don't have much that wasn't completely incinerated, and Ernurd certainly isn't going to pay me anymore, so instead of coin, I suppose you can have my sword at your side."

"We don't just let anyone travel with us," You lied.

... Well it wasn't a full lie. You had turned Lydia away when you'd been appointed Thane of Whiterun, and left her back at Dragonsreach.

"What skills do you bring to the table?"

He cracked his neck, rolling his shoulders. "I think you'll find I'm very, very good at killing things."

"And yet, the Dragonborn was the one to save you." Kaidan eyed up your new potential companion with a great disdain, slowly stepping closer until he was only a few feet away. "And you don't even seem particularly grateful."

"What about offering my services free of charge doesn't seem grateful?" Nebarra crossed his arms, straightening up.

You placed a hand on your companion's shoulder, "I'm a thane now. It's my job to save people, Kai. And there's a dragon out there. We have strength in numbers, so let's just get him to safety and discuss compensation after."

"Heel boy." You could hear the sneer in Nebarra's voice. "It seems at least your leader has some sense."

"I'll show you some sense-"

"Enough." Your eyes looked your newest... potential recruit over as you motioned for everyone to head back to the cave to pick up Khash and Lucifer. "Xelzaz, where's the closest settlement?"

"Falkreath. It shouldn't be too far from here."

"Good. Lead the way... mind the skies, everyone." You walked in silence, scanning your surroundings for danger, falling into step beside Nebarra. "I think we got off on the wrong foot, friend-"

"Oh hohoho... we're not friends. I owe you a life debt, no need to take it further than that."

You narrowed your eyes at him.

He truly was grating.

"If we're going to be travelling together, I don't see how it would hurt to at least try."

He turned to look at you, face frustratingly hidden by his helm. "You're new to the whole adventuring thing, aren't you?"

"What makes you think that?" Your smile didn't waver.

"Look, uh.... What did you say your name was?"

"I did-"

He cut you off with a shake of the head, raising a hand to stop you, "Doesn't really matter given you'll probably be dead in a few days. Don't become an adventurer to find yourself; You'll sooner find your grave."

Deep breaths.

Deep breaths.

"You can't talk to the Dragonborn like that!" Lucifer cut in.

"The what?"

"A legendary hero of Skyrim that can shout and eats dragon souls."

Nebarra just laughed... a grating, wretched noise, "Of course I can, I'm the long lost prince of Alinor."

That cause Lucifer pause, and you placed a hand on his shoulder. "Doesn't a prince usually wear a crown?"

He... didn't take to subtlety or sarcasm very well.

"Hence the Long Lost," Drawled the elf.

"That still doesn't give you the right to talk to The Dragonborn like that."

"Yeah!" Khash butt in. "Do not be rude to our friend!"

"Oh, good. Another one."

You exchanged a glance with Xelzaz. "Hey, guys," You interjected, "How about a song for the road to lift the spirits?"

"That is an excellent idea, my friend!" Your Khajiit companion gave you a wolfish smile.

"I'm beginning to think you didn't actually save my life.... You just ruined my death." Nebarra muttered, walking faster to get away from the noise as Inigo began to sing his rendition of Ragnar the Red.

You joined in once or twice, but you didn't quite know the words.

Xelzaz being pleasant, and lovely, as ever introduced himself with some sort of Altmeri greeting only to be rudely dismissed.

"I'm afraid I'm at my limit of for my knowledge of High Elven words."

"Yes, I do imagine the complexities of elf-tongue would prove a difficult task for a slek such as yoursel-"

It took you two bounds to cross the distance.

Torque in the hips. Fist extended. "FUS!"

Your punch sent the elf flying, the intentions of Force behind it strengthening the blow.

Ignoring the blossoming pain in your hand from where bare skin and bone had met with the metal of his armor. "You do NOT speak to him like that. Ever again. Am I understood, fahliil?"

The word had rolled off your tongue as though they were something you understood.

And for some reason... you did.

Fahliil.

Elf.

The singing stopped. All eyes on you once more.

Khash let out a little whoop. "Tusk yeah! Get his ass! Can I punch him next?"

"What in Oblivion was That?" Nebarra hissed, his armor had cushioned him from the full force of the blow.

"That wasn't really necessary," Xelzaz said. "I'm more than capable of dealing with people like him."

But your blood boiled, "You shouldn't have to." You slowly made your way to where Nebarra was sitting up. "You owe me a life debt, and I am willing to overlook how unpleasant you are to me. But Xelzaz is my friend, and I'll not have you speak to any of my friends like that. I will not tolerate slurs in this party. Got it?"

You exhaled, extending out a hand to help him up. He immediately batted it away, getting to his feet himself. "We're going to get along just swimmingly aren't we?"

"Clearly."

He hung back towards the rear as you all walked in silence. The mood thoroughly ruined.

"I appreciate your enthusiasm, friend." Xelzaz chuckled after a moment, finally locating the road to Falkreath. He must have noticed your hand because he took it in his own and began inspecting it. "But people like Nebarra aren't worth getting upset over."

"Do you think we should let him travel with us?"

The bruise that had begun to bloom receded as he cast healing hands on you. "That's up to you. I won't complain one way or another."

Gods, he was so cool.

You wished you could keep your cool like that.

"We'll see how he fairs next time we encounter some bandits or something...." You mumbled.

"I say we ditch him the first town we get to." Kaidan muttered, glowering at your newest recruit.

"No... he owes me a life debt, and I'll see he repays it." You narrowed your eyes at Nebarra as well.

"What happened to him proving himself?" Xelzaz asked.

"I've made up my mind. He's coming with us. Just let me know if he mistreats you."

The gates of Falkreath loomed before you.

"I think that's a bad idea, friend. He'd betray you for a single septim, I can smell it on him." Kaidan huffed.

You just winked at him. "And that's where you come in. If he betrays me, I know you'll be able to keep me safe."

You almost missed the way his ears flushed as he gave you a sheepish chuckle, "Aye.... Our bond is forged in battle, I've got back."

"Good." Patting his arm, you ran a few paces ahead to jump up and slap the sign of the inn. "It's settled then. We'll rest the rest of the day, recover, get a few ales, and set out for Riverwood in the morning."

"Won't say no to that plan." Kai grinned. "Hopefully they'll have a good bard.... No offense, Inigo."

"I wasn't offended until you said that." Inigo gave him a dry look.

You all got food, eating with a reedy man named Lucien who offered you a great sum of gold to travel with you. And so your party grew by two in one day.

Kaidan and Khash danced to the bard's tunes, and the mood stayed fairly light... except for one surly elf sipping wine through a straw in the corner.

#nebarra #nebarra skyrim #xelzaz #lucifer the argonian #khash the argonian #Kaidan TES #lucien flavius #inigo skyrim #skyrim #thunderous applesauce #destiny waits for no one

[ask-naraenil]

A Garden of Winter - 17 Nov 23

There was an otherworldly aspect to the Dream that she had not experienced before.

Nara’enil did not have time to piece her thoughts together. Between the time her staff was burnt and slowly revived, the combined forces all over the Dragon Isles had gathered, and then collectively moved through the gate at the Ancient Bough. By the time she joined them, they had started to establish themselves under the very secret that was harboured within the Dream the entire time.

There was a lot to take in and process: how Amirdrassil came about, how long it was there, and the adversaries that all of the forces were now facing.

It took a while, but Nara’enil eventually found a quiet moment of respite, amidst the orders and briefings. While everything sank in, there was one significant aspect that stood out about their new home. It was under its immense roots: the same strange blue that threaded through its bark, visible across the entire region they were in. The same blue that faded the living beauty of the Dream into ethereal shades of twilight and indigo.

Nara’enil almost expected wisps to be present, but they weren’t. It felt as if they were woven into the very body of the World Tree itself. As if the large pond with its odd landscaped swirl, that was unlike any of the other intricate grassy patterns throughout the Dream, held its own secrets that only those who passed on knew of. In this garden of dusk under Amidrassil, this space of winter amidst the verdant summer of the Dream, she felt both safety as well as the notion that she did not belong. As if she was standing at a precipice, at the brink of a change in seasons, a step in the unending cycle of life and death. A cycle of balance.

She sank onto the azure grass by the edge of the water, next to the arrangement of druidic stones that decorated the circles of the pattern. Nara’enil could not help but feel the emptiness that she had tried her best to overcome over the millennia. It resurfaced every time someone she knew passed away, and gnawed at her chest like a hungry beast wanting to be fed.

It was quiet where she sat. All the activity fluttered above. Few druids came this way. Her staff, rejuvenated and no longer charred, was propped beside her. The smallest furls of leaves had started to sprout - a miracle wrought by “Elder Bearclaw”, a tauren from Hyjal who turned out to be an emerald dragon the whole time, and who told her that the staff was not of Azeroth, whatever that meant.

Amidst the encircled calm, the emptiness within her slowly faded into a familiar anaesthesia as she regarded the shimmering water. All she could think of were the faces that she once loved and still remembered. Were they part of the multitudes who gave up their existence for their new home and their people, or were they still on the other side, perhaps witnessing everything that was going on through their own similar patch of water and unusual swirls in the ground?

A memory came to her, random and unbidden, as she absently stared at the broken reflection of herself.

“I was Dreaming in the Barrow Dens north of Ashenvale when the satyrs attacked. All I knew was when I woke up, I was surrounded by the healers resuscitating me, with the branch already in my hand.”

It was another made-up story of the origin of Veldrinath’s staff. The very same she now carried. Nara’enil vaguely remembered the banter: how she joked that the healers gave it to him to hold as they expected him to violently lash out at them; how he laughed and retorted that he stole it from the Dream, or maybe beyond it.

The numbness turned to pain. Somewhere in her consciousness, she always knew that she missed him more than anyone else who passed on. Somehow, she hoped that she was sitting on a patch of water, earth and grass that was touched in some way by his soul, that maybe all of this could have been a way for her to see him again. Or hear him. Anything to know that he was still around.

But he was gone. He had been gone for almost a thousand years. Neither he, nor min’do Ilisana, nor so many other sisters and brothers whom Nara’enil lost over the years, would be coming back.

She had to move forward. She needed to move forward.

Like many times before, she brushed aside the unshed tears and steeled herself. After all, she would be dishonouring their deaths if she was to continue to mourn, and not live on for the sake of those who survived.

In the near distance, she heard her name being called. Fresh instructions were being issued, and she was needed elsewhere. Her staff touched the water lightly as she manoeuvred it to support her standing. Nara’enil reluctantly tore her lingering gaze from the pond, then turned and walked up the slope without looking back.

As she did so, a bud of dusky blue that matched the pallor of winter’s air began to sprout at the head of her staff.

#stories #ic #rp #off screen #nara'enil #about nara’enil #10.2 spoilers

[absensia-archived]

𝚃𝙾𝙿  𝟻  𝚂𝙾𝙽𝙶  𝙰𝚂𝚂𝙾𝙲𝙸𝙰𝚃𝙸𝙾𝙽𝚂,      songs that most inspire  /  represent my writing and muse.  

𝟶𝟶𝟷.  𝚂𝙷𝚄𝚃 𝚄𝙿 𝙰𝙽𝙳 𝙳𝙰𝙽𝙲𝙴,   walk the moon.    oh don't you dare look back  /  just keep your eyes on me  /  I said you're holding back  /  she said shut up and dance with me  [ . . . ]  a backless dress and some beat up sneaks  /  my discotheque Juliet teenage dream  /  I felt it in my chest as she looked at me  /  I knew we were bound to be together  .

it isn’t difficult to imagine charlotte as the nameless woman in this song, embodying the energy of a crowded and excited dance club, showing up in a backless dress and beat up sneaks, and dancing,  twirling,  drawing a partner into her arms with a huge grin on her face.  the song itself is all the exuberant and upbeat fun that charlotte lives for and catalyzes herself. 

𝟶𝟶𝟸.   𝙼𝙴𝚂𝚂 𝙰𝚁𝙾𝚄𝙽𝙳,   cage the elephant.     the heat is risin' and only gettin' hotter  /  ready to blow  /  I think I'll pour myself a glass of water  /  let it flow  /  she'll show you what she's made of  /  yeah, she comin' for ya  /  she's gonna try to break ya  /  yeah, she comin' for ya  /  no, she don't mess around  .

somewhat of a cousin to the song that was charlotte’s original inspiration,  she’s not there by the zombies,  this one is,  at once,  a story of a mystery woman and a warning about her,  only this time,  maybe the warning comes early enough to avoid trouble.  this song brings up ideas of char’s sunny personality and her love for the summertime.   its sound and rhythm captures charlotte’s usual easy-going,  active,  and playful mood.

𝟶𝟶𝟹.   𝙷𝚈𝚂𝚃𝙴𝚁𝙸𝙰,   muse.     'cause I want it now  /  I want it now  /  give me your heart and your soul  /  and I'm breaking out  /  I'm breaking out  /  last chance to lose control  /  and it's holding me  /  morphing me  /  and forcing me to strive  /  to be endlessly  /  cold within  /  and dreaming I'm alive  .

if one could listen into the sound of charlotte’s “soul,”   it might sound like something like the electric guitar,  synth,  bass,  and percussion of this song. the hysterical pace and feeling of this song reflects the chaos charlotte seeks to catalyze and nurture,  the chaos that surrounds and seeps into her.   the lyrics perfectly speak to the drive and intentions behind char’s actions.

𝟶𝟶𝟺.   𝚃𝙷𝙴 𝚆𝙸𝙽𝚃𝙴𝚁 𝚂𝙾𝙻𝙳𝙸𝙴𝚁 / 𝙽𝙸𝙶𝙷𝚃𝙼𝙰𝚁𝙴𝚂,   henry jackman.     the last song sounds like charlotte’s “soul,”   but these scores sound very much what I imagine the score for charlotte’s narrative would be.   the hard hitting beats,  the unceasing high - pitched strings that inspire anxiety,  the screams,   the sense of something awful happening almost immediately. 

𝟶𝟶𝟻.   𝙷𝙾𝚃𝙴𝙻 𝙲𝙰𝙻𝙸𝙵𝙾𝚁𝙽𝙸𝙰,   the eagles.   last thing I remember,  I was  /  running for the door  / I had to find the passage back  /  to the place I was before  /  "relax, " said the night man  /  “we are programmed to receive  /  you can check out any time you like  /  but you can never leave" .

for as long as I’ve written charlotte,  this song has been a core inspiration her brand of horror and type of psychological impact she has on reality and other people.   there is the sense of the uncanny as well as not being able to escape a place or person.  there’s a permanence that comes with crossing paths with char, that even once you manage to escape her or she leaves you,  this feeling of being in the grasp of strangeness,  uncertainty, impending chaos remains.  there is also the matter of a hotel representing a liminal setting,  one which encourages chaos and transgressions,  setting which charlotte herself ends up in the most.     

honourable mentions:  she’s not there by the zombies,   personal jesus by depeche mode,  lighthouse chamber by ben salisbury and geoff barrow,   and blitzkrieg bop by ramones

tagged by @wtrss <3   /  if you see this and want to do it,   please do and tag me! 

#i've been working on a playlist of scores that capture the soundscape of the void as well as charlotte's theoretical narrative #it's coming along but slowly #despite being third on the list here muse's hysteria is really core to my portrayal of char #in choosing these - i tried to balance between songs chosen for the story they tell and the sound of them ! #dead even in memory #this was fun to put together and i hope it's fun to peruse!

[aristotels]

FUCK all the queer chars being "uwu soft babies" and "goodies". Fuck that. Make them assholes and cunts and interesting characters. Im saluting to our hero thomas barrow who was an ass and loved it up the ass and terrorized everyone bc he was a sly handsome cunt but also had such great arc relating to the discrimination of his homosexuality in 1920es britain. When there was nothing nasty going on he purposefully stirred up shit AND was sympathetic as a character, fuck off already w pitch perfect rep!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

[publicdomainbooks]

III. ON HORSELL COMMON.

I found a little crowd of perhaps twenty people surrounding the huge hole in which the cylinder lay. I have already described the appearance of that colossal bulk, embedded in the ground. The turf and gravel about it seemed charred as if by a sudden explosion. No doubt its impact had caused a flash of fire. Henderson and Ogilvy were not there. I think they perceived that nothing was to be done for the present, and had gone away to breakfast at Henderson’s house.

There were four or five boys sitting on the edge of the Pit, with their feet dangling, and amusing themselves—until I stopped them—by throwing stones at the giant mass. After I had spoken to them about it, they began playing at “touch” in and out of the group of bystanders.

Among these were a couple of cyclists, a jobbing gardener I employed sometimes, a girl carrying a baby, Gregg the butcher and his little boy, and two or three loafers and golf caddies who were accustomed to hang about the railway station. There was very little talking. Few of the common people in England had anything but the vaguest astronomical ideas in those days. Most of them were staring quietly at the big table like end of the cylinder, which was still as Ogilvy and Henderson had left it. I fancy the popular expectation of a heap of charred corpses was disappointed at this inanimate bulk. Some went away while I was there, and other people came. I clambered into the pit and fancied I heard a faint movement under my feet. The top had certainly ceased to rotate.

It was only when I got thus close to it that the strangeness of this object was at all evident to me. At the first glance it was really no more exciting than an overturned carriage or a tree blown across the road. Not so much so, indeed. It looked like a rusty gas float. It required a certain amount of scientific education to perceive that the grey scale of the Thing was no common oxide, that the yellowish-white metal that gleamed in the crack between the lid and the cylinder had an unfamiliar hue. “Extra-terrestrial” had no meaning for most of the onlookers.

At that time it was quite clear in my own mind that the Thing had come from the planet Mars, but I judged it improbable that it contained any living creature. I thought the unscrewing might be automatic. In spite of Ogilvy, I still believed that there were men in Mars. My mind ran fancifully on the possibilities of its containing manuscript, on the difficulties in translation that might arise, whether we should find coins and models in it, and so forth. Yet it was a little too large for assurance on this idea. I felt an impatience to see it opened. About eleven, as nothing seemed happening, I walked back, full of such thought, to my home in Maybury. But I found it difficult to get to work upon my abstract investigations.

In the afternoon the appearance of the common had altered very much. The early editions of the evening papers had startled London with enormous headlines:

“A MESSAGE RECEIVED FROM MARS.”

“REMARKABLE STORY FROM WOKING,”

and so forth. In addition, Ogilvy’s wire to the Astronomical Exchange had roused every observatory in the three kingdoms.

There were half a dozen flys or more from the Woking station standing in the road by the sand-pits, a basket-chaise from Chobham, and a rather lordly carriage. Besides that, there was quite a heap of bicycles. In addition, a large number of people must have walked, in spite of the heat of the day, from Woking and Chertsey, so that there was altogether quite a considerable crowd—one or two gaily dressed ladies among the others.

It was glaringly hot, not a cloud in the sky nor a breath of wind, and the only shadow was that of the few scattered pine trees. The burning heather had been extinguished, but the level ground towards Ottershaw was blackened as far as one could see, and still giving off vertical streamers of smoke. An enterprising sweet-stuff dealer in the Chobham Road had sent up his son with a barrow-load of green apples and ginger beer.

Going to the edge of the pit, I found it occupied by a group of about half a dozen men—Henderson, Ogilvy, and a tall, fair-haired man that I afterwards learned was Stent, the Astronomer Royal, with several workmen wielding spades and pickaxes. Stent was giving directions in a clear, high-pitched voice. He was standing on the cylinder, which was now evidently much cooler; his face was crimson and streaming with perspiration, and something seemed to have irritated him.

A large portion of the cylinder had been uncovered, though its lower end was still embedded. As soon as Ogilvy saw me among the staring crowd on the edge of the pit he called to me to come down, and asked me if I would mind going over to see Lord Hilton, the lord of the manor.

The growing crowd, he said, was becoming a serious impediment to their excavations, especially the boys. They wanted a light railing put up, and help to keep the people back. He told me that a faint stirring was occasionally still audible within the case, but that the workmen had failed to unscrew the top, as it afforded no grip to them. The case appeared to be enormously thick, and it was possible that the faint sounds we heard represented a noisy tumult in the interior.

I was very glad to do as he asked, and so become one of the privileged spectators within the contemplated enclosure. I failed to find Lord Hilton at his house, but I was told he was expected from London by the six o’clock train from Waterloo; and as it was then about a quarter past five, I went home, had some tea, and walked up to the station to waylay him.

#war of the worlds #WWChapter

[diabeticlady]

Skyrim Stuff Part 4!

Okay this is going to be a long one. There is a gap in time between entries, mostly due to me just wanting to play the game instead of writing. I have spent HUNDREDS of hours in this world, and like most others not a lot of that time was spent with the main quest. So, going through that magic once again with a completely different mindset (aka, being in the mind of my character and not in the mind of well... me) had me hooked for quite a bit! I know that Skyrim is a flawed game and that Bethesda is an even more flawed company but I can not express just how magical their games can be. And I hope that by retelling the game's events in this way still captures the magic. Anyways, here is the first few parts of my Dragonborn's hero's journey. Last Seed, 21st, 4E 201

The gap between entries was not due to the drunken shenanigans from the 19th, but instead due to the gravity of the situation I have been thrust into. The trip to Helgen was by all accounts a simple and easy one. What I found there was a terrible tragedy, charred corpses littering what was once a town center. An eerie and terrible sight to witness. But nonetheless, I pulled through and found a journal that chronicled the events leading up to it. It was an attack by a dragon. A terrible beast that I had thought was long since gone, killed hundreds of years ago. But I could see it before my eyes, recognizing it from the Imperial emblem. It appears I have arrived to Skyrim during an interesting time. A terrible and tragic time too. The journal spoke of a cave nearby, one that I hastily moved to. I found a survivor, a member of the Empire. He spoke of what occurred, and his recount of the events matched what was said in the journal. I helped the man out of the cave, ensuring his safety during a short trek to Riverwood. He is likely still there, nursing his wounds.

Last Seed, 21st, 4E 201

With the man unable to do much other than rest, it was myself that was given the task of heading to Whiterun to inform the Jarl. I made my way there as quick as I could, entering the Jarl's chambers with haste. I know my father would be disappointed in me with my lack of etiquette to the Jarl but with the threat of colossus beasts being nearby to civilization, I could not waste time with the common formalities taught to me. That would come later. I explained what I had seen, and the Jarl believed me. Having seen the great beast flying overhead, they understood that I spoke of the truth. A short argument occurred, relating to the current war going on inside of Skyrim. Whiterun seeks to be neutral, it seems. Nonetheless, the slab of stone I found in that crypt (which I have now learned is named Bleak Falls Barrow) was of importance, the court wizard requesting it. Not being one to deny those with much more magical influence than myself, I hastily handed it over, hoping that it would prove to be useful to what the Jarl needed.

Last Seed, 21st, 4E 201

The peace did not last long. There was not enough time for the Jarl to assemble troops as a dragon was reported just outside of Whiterun! I see myself as a brave noblewoman, trained in both the martial and magical arts, but the concept of fighting a dragon filled me with an unending dread. How were we supposed to slay such a beast? And with only a small host of guards and the personal Housecarl of Jarl Balgruuf the Greater at my side, I feared for the worst. The Nord people are warriors, that I know. And the Dunmer had managed to become a highly trusted advisor for a reason, but even then. This was a Dragon we were talking about. Beasts of myth. I silently prayed to the Divine Mother, hoping that the fight would not be a slaughter. That the brave men and women alongside me would come back home. After a rousing speech from the Housecarl, we left the city walls and hunted the dragon.

Last Seed, 21st, 4E 201

We did not need to travel far, as its destruction was swiftly shown to us all. A destroyed tower, and terrified guards. It broke my heart hearing a Nord be afraid. I had always viewed the people of Skyrim as being much simpler than those of High Rock. I would come to be mistaken, instead finding a whole host of traditions, and respected parts of their culture. They are a proud race, that much is clear. I wish to learn so much more about them. Anyways, the fight with the dragon had my heart pounding against my chest. It made me question myself about what I tend to fight. Bandits and undead are simple, easy. Even daedra tend to bend when the will of Stendarr comes into play. But a dragon? A child of Akatosh himself? That was not something that could feel fear from the Gods that watch over me and bless my body. I had to rely completely on myself and those that took up arms against the beast. As it flew overhead, hundreds of arrows (and tens of my own bolts) pierced the Dragon. The guards of Whiterun were quite adept archers, nailing shot after shot on it. Even then, the fire breath that came from the Dragon easily killed dozens of the guard, a battle that was not easily won. But despite that, we still managed to ground it. The Nords' bravery showed itself once again, clashing with the beast using sword and shield. I myself joined into the skirmish, attempting to slash at the beast at the parts of it that were unarmored. I do not know how long it lasted, but it was myself that landed the final blow. Slitting its throat with my claymore. I do not know what compelled me to attempt such a maneuver. Those that attacked the beast from its front found a terrible fate through fire or through its bite.

Last Seed, 21st, 4E 201

The rush of victory was unlike anything else I had felt. Normally my reward for a battle well fought was the feeling of the Divines smiling on me. Instead I found people smiling upon me, cheering. We had managed to kill a dragon, a feat that no one else could claim. Not for hundreds of years. I had thought that would be the end of it, that we had dealt with the problem just like that. But instead I found myself sorely mistaken as I felt a rush of energy and power being pushed inside of me. The exact same way I felt when I absorbed the ancient magic from off of the wall. The guards looked at me with their mouth agape, in a state of shock. I had no clue what was happening to me. I would have likely still not known what was going on until one of the Nord guards spoke about me being a "Dragonborn". Just like Tiber Septim. I was shocked at such an exclamation. The idea of such a thing was surely preposterous. But when I was asked to prove it, I was able to use magic with my voice. That was apparently proof enough. Somehow, I have the blood of dragons. As if that was not a big enough revelation, a voice boomed in the sky, the "Greybeards" according to the Nords. Other people that can use magic with just their voice. The Jarl confirmed this, telling me that I must go to High Hrothgar to meet with these "Greybeards".

Last Seed, 21st, 4E 201

With all this new information, on top of the Jarl naming me the "Thane of Whiterun", I am left overwhelmed. I had brought this journal with me to keep track of the things I encountered and as a safe space to store my adventures, so that my mother, father and my friends could read about what I had done in Skyrim. But with the title of "Dragonborn" thrust upon me, I believe this journal should serve a new purpose. An autobiography. A recount of my tale. I did not expect for this journey to Skyrim to end up with me joining the ranks of The Eternal Champion, The Hero of Daggerfall, The Nerevarine, and The Hero of Kvatch. I wonder if the Divines are the reason why I chose to explore Skyrim, instead of Hammerfell, Valenwood, the Summerset Isles, or any other place in Tamriel. I have a sudden weight of responsibility pushed onto me. If I am to have my name etched into the Elder Scrolls themselves, then I must earn it.

Last Seed, 21st, 4E 201

For the sake of this making the readability of this journal-turned-autobiography easier, I might as well explain who I am. I am Lady Summer of House Whittington, loyal to House Barynia. While I hold no land yet, I am first in line to inherit Castle Whittington and the surrounding area. I have been trained as a mage in both the Schools of Restoration and Alteration. I have received training as a knight too. I was born under The Lady, on the 29th of Hearthfire. I worship three of the Nine Divines separately, Mara, Stendarr and Dibella. 

Last Seed, 21st, 4E 201

Now that I have finished journaling the events of the previous day, I am currently headed towards High Hrothgar, to meet with these "Greybeards". I took a carriage to Ivarstead, a village close by to High Hrothgar. There is a clear path set up. A blessing from the Divines, as I would hate to have to climb my way up. On the way up it became clear to me that the journey was spiritual to the Nord people. Little shrines were made here and there, and I came across a couple people praying to them or reading what they had to say. I, on the other hand, was not so lucky to enjoy a simple hike up the mountain. Wolves and trolls attempted to make the journey difficult but with the help of my new companion, Lydia, they were all easily dispatched. The woman gifted to me (I hope that she at least agreed to this arrangement) by the Jarl of Whiterun has been nothing but useful thus far. Adventuring alone was never quite my style! (Addendum: Looking at my previous post and realizing that I am having my character talk about modded content without ever explaining what that modded content is. So, here is the names of all the content mods that I have in my load order.) Legacy of the Dragonborn Missives Headhunter - Bounties Redone Dungeons - Revisited (this is why Bleak Falls Barrow was big enough to have places be unexplored during my first romp through it) Hammet's Dungeon Pack 1 Hammet's Dungeon Pack 2 Beyond Skyrim - Bruma Vigilant (all the Dark Souls stuff makes me SO excited) Glenmoril (manages to get me even more excited with Bloodborne content, though no Unslaad for now because it hasn't immediately gripped me, might check it out after this post) LC_Build Your Noble House (couldn't resist, esp with how I made Summer as a Noble) Destroy the Thieves Guild (playing as a Lawful Good OC so this should be expected, as should-) Dark Brotherhood Rising Revengeance (-this mod! Can't have petty thugs and assassins in MY Skyrim!) House of Horrors - Quest Expansion (JaySerpa my beloved...) The Only Cure - Quest Expansion

#creative writing #elder scrolls #oc #roleplay #skyrim #the elder scrolls #writing #mods

[bookclub4m]

Episode 191 - Dark Fantasy

This episode we’re discussing the fiction genre of Dark Fantasy! We talk about horror, grimdark, violence, amoral protagonists, epic fantasy vs small scale fantasy, the importance of tone, and more!

You can download the podcast directly, find it on Libsyn, or get it through Apple Podcasts or your favourite podcast delivery system.

In this episode

Anna Ferri | Meghan Whyte | Matthew Murray | Jam Edwards

Things We Read (or tried to…)

Berserk by Kentaro Miura (Wikipedia)

The Citadel of Fear by Francis Stevens (Gertrude Barrows Bennett)

Coraline by Neil Gaiman

The Lies of the Ajungo by Moses Ose Utomi

Every Heart a Doorway by Seanan McGuire

Shadowland by Peter Straub

Flowers for the Sea by Zin E. Rocklyn

Twice Cursed edited by Marie O'Regan and Paul Kane

Other Media We Mentioned

Dark Souls (Wikipedia)

Elden Ring (WIkipedia)

Magic Knight Rayearth by CLAMP

Pet Shop of Horrors by Matsuri Akino

The Library at Mount Char by  Scott Hawkins

The Coldest Girl in Coldtown by Holly Black

The Cruel Prince by Holly Black (Episode 147 - Contemporary Fantasy)

Monstress by  Marjorie Liu and Sana Takeda (Wikipedia)

Ravenloft (Wikipedia)

Nettle and Bone by T. Kingfisher

Leech by Hiron Ennes (Episode 184 - Horror)

The Salt Grows Heavy by Cassandra Khaw (Episode 176 - Fantasy)

Norylska Groans by Michael R. Fletcher and Clayton W. Snyder

Porky Pig's Haunted Holiday (Wikipedia)

The Sandman by Neil Gaiman and various artists (Wikipedia)

Children of Men (Wikipedia)

The Children of Men by P.D. James

Fables by Bill Willingham and various artists (Wikipedia)

Deerskin by Robin McKinley

Links, Articles, and Things

Dark fantasy (Wikipedia)

Category:Dark fantasy anime and manga

Category:Dark fantasy video games

Grimdark Magazine

20 Dark Fantasy by BIPOC Authors

Every month Book Club for Masochists: A Readers’ Advisory Podcasts chooses a genre at random and we read and discuss books from that genre. We also put together book lists for each episode/genre that feature works by BIPOC (Black, Indigenous, & People of Colour) authors. All of the lists can be found here.

The Stardust Thief by Chelsea Abdullah

Children of Blood and Bone by Tomi Adeyemi

Eleventh Cycle by Kian N. Ardalan

To Shape a Dragon's Breath by Moniquill Blackgoose

The Book Eaters by Sunyi Dean

Funeral Songs for Dying Girls by Cherie Dimaline

The Hurricane Wars by Thea Guanzon

The Year of the Witching by Alexis Henderson 

The Library of the Dead by T.L. Huchu

Babel, or the Necessity of Violence by R. F. Kuang

The Changeling by Victor LaValle 

Jade City by Fonda Lee

She Who Became The Sun by Shelley Parker-Chan

Tread of Angels by Rebecca Roanhorse

Tender Beasts by Liselle Sambury

Witches Steeped in Gold by Ciannon Smart

Sorrowland by Rivers Solomon

An Ember in the Ashes by Sabaa Tahir

The Lies of the Ajungo by Moses Ose Utomi

The First Binding by R.R. Virdi

Give us feedback!

Fill out the form to ask for a recommendation or suggest a genre or title for us to read!

Check out our Tumblr, follow us on Instagram, join our Facebook Group, or send us an email!

Join us again on Tuesday, April 2nd we’ll be talking about the format of Non fiction Graphic Novels and Comics!

Then on Tuesday, April 16th we’ll be giving an update on Media we’ve recently enjoyed!

#genres #fiction #fantasy #dark fantasy

[juniperberries-canisroot]

Loaded up my main save, did IronBind Barrow & kept walking till I was near Mount Anthor. I was already in the mountains so I could see the dragon perched on its wall thing.

I however had to reload three times and still the game was acting buggy.

First the body wouldn't burn up and give me the soul. Second, the body still wouldn't burn up and it flew off somewhere and didn't die evwn thou I one-shot it. I could still see it flying far below. Also when I went to mine the moonstone ore vein, my char glitched out. It was like they were tethered to the ore vein, I could attack but the camera control didn't turn the camera, it turned the char on a fixed spot. Like it turned them around in place. Also I couldn't get far from the ore vein, they were stuck facing it and hit an invisible wall when I got not that far from it. The third time, the dragon body STILL didn't burn up and give me the soul. At this point I give up and proceed on.

Good thing I have so many dragon souls already and most of the shouts. If a dragon body never burns up again I'm sitting comfortably on 70+ souls, not counting the ones from Jurgen Wind-Callers horn since I never went back and got it. I already killed Miraak so I won't be gettin any souls from him. Even including the DragonBorn shouts (and DawnGuard apparently added some but I don't remember what they are) I think 70 souls should be enough to cover the rest of the words I'm missing.

#Skyrim #Skyrim Shenanigans #Elder Scrolls #Elder Scrolls V #tes #tesv

[changelingsandothernonsense]

Friday's Wippings

I've moved Wip posting to Fridays so I get all the pings first XD If I post on my Wednesday it'll look like I'm jumping the gun. Tagged by @mareenavee, @thequeenofthewinter and @friend-of-giants Thanks so much for including me! Today we have art! and Writing Featuring Gun!Josh, a playlist of N.W.A and a pain in the ass of a pose.

Writing under the cut! A delve into Bloodskal Barrow.

“Teldryn Sero, if I didn’t know better, I’d say you were scared,” Sydari snickered under her breath, she looked ahead, from what little of the tunnel was illuminated, she could see the silhouette of wooden boards blocking their path. She walked up to them, losing light for a moment, she heard Teldryn swear in Dunmeris before her path was illuminated again.

“What? No!” he protested, he leaned his back against the wooden planks and sighed, “You think maybe there’s a reason the way is blocked?” He started readjusting his scarf, “There’s nothing here Sydari but spiders and draugr. The mine’s dry and one of those crushed skeletons at the entrance was probably old Caerellius’ cousin six times removed or something.”

“I can hear something down here Tel!” Sydari pulled at the plank that lay at eye level, it came loose with a crack that echoed throughout the chamber. The force caused Sydari to fall back, landing in the dirt. Teldryn cackled before he crossed over to her and offered her his hand.

“And that tells me that we shouldn’t be down here,” he helped her to her feet, though didn’t let go of her hand, “Really Sydari this is- “Both his hands suddenly clasped hers, she thought she saw him jump a little. No, she did see him jump. When this was over, she’d be sure to tease him over the whole thing. As the light flickered out, she heard it again amongst the humming, a hollow rasping, air running through desiccated tissue. A pair of eerie blue lights appeared from the darkness, then a second, a third. They encroached on the opening in the wooded barrier, it began to creak.

“Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit!” Teldryn cursed, he released her hands. She could hear him unsheathe his blade in the darkness, “I told you they swarm!”

“I know that Teldryn! I’ve been in one of these before!” Sydari hissed back, as she readied her bow. The eyes kept multiplying, eight, nine, eleven? The wooden barrier began to give way under the persistent weight of undead. Their hollow rasps reverberated inside her skull, joining the hum, she dropped her bow and cupped her hands around her ears in a feeble attempt to drown out the constant drone. The barrier broke, and flames swirled ahead. Time moved as a series of images. One moment the dead were staggering through the broken barrier. The next saw the entire tunnel engulfed in fire that didn’t burn. There was a chime, a barrier, burning. Flames danced across Teldryn’s shoulders as the tunnel exploded in a hail of fire, it passed over the two as if there was a barrier. They were knocked to the ground and Sydari didn’t know if it was by the force of the explosion or if Teldryn had knocked them both over. The chiming began to subside alongside the flames and the two were engulfed in darkness once again. Sydari could feel her chest heave as she gasped for breath, Teldryn had landed on top of her, knocking the wind out of her lungs. Sydari pulled down her mask and gasped, the air smelt of ozone, and charred decay.

“What happened?” She gasped, Teldryn sat up, moving off her in the process. His breath was ragged, she could hear him gasping somewhere in the darkness.

“Gas? A trap?” Sydari heard a light chime as the tunnel was re-illuminated, though this time, the light was dim, it flickered, never stabilizing. Teldryn look towards her, breath still ragged, he’d removed his headwear, his hair stuck to his brow. She brushed it to the side, resting the errant strands behind his ear. He took a drink from his waterskin before using some of the water to wash his face before offering it to her. She didn’t realise exactly how thirsty she truly was until the cool water hit her throat.

“Probably gas, these damn tunnels,” Teldryn opened Sydari’s pack and began rummaging around, pulling two small glass bottles from it. He shook the first one, the liquid inside was watery, dark in colour with a light hint of green, “These places are full of the stuff! I should have known…” He popped the cork on Sydari’s stamina potion and drank the concoction in one go, “ I’m sorry hla miluth,” he turned to face her, his fingers brushed against hers for a moment before he uncorked the second bottle, blue this time. He drank this one in two gulps and grimaced as he swallowed the potion. Sydari smiled to herself, he must have taken one of the cheaper potions.

“I should have remembered that.“ Teldryn muttered as he rose to his feet, remember what exactly? It looked like no one had been this far into Raven Rock’s only ebony mine in centuries. He held out his hand again to help her up.

“Remembered what Tel? This place looks completely abandoned; how could you have known?” She took his hand, and he pulled her to her feet. The magelight that floated above his shoulder had finally stopped flickering, he ran a hand through his hair, dragging it back from his face. He wouldn’t meet her gaze. She decided to prod him a little, he’d been acting strangely ever since they set foot in the mine that morning, “Teldryn? What’s wrong?”

He fiddled with his scarf again before pulling it back over his nose, “What’s wrong is that we’ve been wandering through these gods forsaken tunnels for hours now,” he started resecuring his helmet and goggles, Sydari could no longer read him. It frustrated her to no end, he folded his arms and shifted his weight a little, “What is wrong is that we have been here for hours, fumbling around in the darkness and found absolutely nothing that even indicates Caerellius’ grandfather was even in here, let alone whatever it was that the old man thinks shut down the mine.”

“Teldryn, this place opens into a crypt! Doesn’t that say anything to you?” She was beginning to raise her voice; it cracked a little on the final word. Shit! ”Sero I never asked you to come down here, I never asked you to follow me!” Gods, sometimes he made her so mad, she knew that wasn’t why he wanted to abandon the search, she knew he was bullshiting.  Teldryn was always cryptic when he was uncomfortable, “Teldryn just go home if you’re so gods damn uncomfortable, I don’t need your help anyway. I never did.”

“It’s not-“ He sighed and readjusted his scarf, “I’m not-“ he folded his arms and swore under his breath, “Fine, I don’t like draugr, happy?” She wasn’t, she had a suspicion that wasn’t everything but getting Teldryn Sero to admit to anything was like pulling teeth, “and if I leave, who’s going to light your way?”

“I’ll figure it out, I’m not helpless you absolute ass,” she hissed at him, her voice straining, “you’re forgetting that I’m-“

“I’m forgetting nothing,” he exhaled and began to fiddle with a latch on his armour before looking back towards her, “I-I’m staying, I don’t trust a Daedra to keep you safe Sydari!”

#weekly wipings #my wips #my art #my writing #teldryn sero #sydari aralen #danger!josh