Meme Announcements!

[skyrimkinkmeme]

ANNOUNCEMENTS: UPDATED 12/16/2017

Happy Holidays, fellow Kinkmemers! I have returned and have no reasonable excuse for my absence except LIFE. I will be working on updating the archives. If anyone sees anything amiss, please let me know.

I am also hoping to find another Mod and an Archivist.

The more dedicated people we have in this Meme the less chance of it dying. I admit that being the sole keeper of the Meme is not great for the fandom. If something were to happen to me, for good, this place would go the way of the Fallout Kink Meme. Let's not let that happen! If anyone would be interested in Modding/Archiving, please drop me a line. Thanks! <3

Comments

Daughter of the Reach 3a/3

[(Anonymous)]

So these are turning out to be much more chronological than I anticipated, oh well! Hope you're still liking them OP, as they become more friendly towards each other we'll see them visiting hagravens and brewing up potions and Vilkas becoming more bemused by her antics than angered.

The next one won't be up for another 2 weeks at best as I'm going on holiday and won't be writing much, the joys of summer eh?

Daughter of the Reach: Tomb Raider

History had never been her strong suit. No Matriarch’s tale could keep her entertained for long before Niamh’s mind would start to wander. Too many of her people’s tales included the history of Faolan and the evils of the Bear’s Stormcloak army, it was all too depressing when the world was too exciting, too distracting.

Ralof had called it Bleak Falls Barrow when they’d made their way to Riverwood the first time. The ghosted arches had held a crown of mist and her unlikely saviour had spoken of the nightmares it gave him as a child. Its commanding presence had been somewhat marred by the bandits that had blindly attacked, yet the Werewolf who’d insisted on dragging her there had made quick work of the threat.

“I think that’s all of them.” He told her, placing the giant blade back onto his back. His hair was mussed, and the dark smudges around his eyes made them glisten more intensely. Not even after their brisk job up the hill, followed by swinging around the oversized sword and then having to kill all those people, had he even broken a sweat. All that metal and weight, a small part of her wondered how he managed it.

“Okay.” She said, dragging her gaze away from him and towards the large wooden doors of the entrance. “Are we going inside?”

He nodded and motioned her to follow. She obeyed, knowing from experience he’d just pick her up and start carrying her in. Instead, she meandered up the stairs behind him, dragging her feet as she quietly mourned for the sun they turned their backs on.

Inside was golden, the flames from the camp fire licking the crumbling walls around them. Without thinking, Niamh set off a little ball of mage light, alerting new thugs to their presence. The whole place was overgrown, the stone cracked and crumbling as roots forced their way through the widening gaps and criss-crossing against the filthy floor. It was almost funny watching the Nord take the sword from his back, only to stumble as he tripped over a root that he’d been intent on ignoring.

“Are you going to murder everyone in this place?” Niamh asked him, crouching inspect one of the fresh bodies when he was done. Fur and hide, their weapons weren’t uniform, instead being a mismatch of elven, orc and steel swords and axes. Loot.

“They’d kill us first.” He said as she began to inspect what was in the dead man’s pockets, “What are you doing?”

“You said something about gold earlier.” Her fingers found something hard and coin like and she pulled a small purse up into the air. “A-hah!”

“You can’t go around robbing dead people.” The Werewolf snapped, leaning over and snatching her prize away.

“Hey!” Niamh stood up and tried to leap for it back, the Nord before her was too large, and his arms much longer than hers as he dangled it out of the way. “You’re the one forcing me to start robbing graves!”

“Robbing graves- No. We’re not-“ He let his hands drop to his sides, his thick eyebrows knotting together as his lips pursed, trying to figure out what he was going to say next. “We’ve been sent to retrieve something, by the Jarl of this Hold.”

“This is someone’s tomb, that’s what a Barrow is right?” At least, she was fairly certain it was. “The draugr in this place don’t care if you’ve got permission from some Nord in a chair.”

Hah! He was angry; she could practically see the fur bursting from his skin as he struggled to compose himself.

“Just stop stealing from the dead.” He managed and threw the purse back down on the corpse before stomping off deeper into the tomb.