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

Re: Fire and Potions - 105/105

[(Anonymous)]

“Well, if we cannot appeal to Therion, can we appeal to his, ah, dragon nature?” Talamagne asked. “At the moment he seems to be the personification of a hundred dragons, give or take.”

Farengar mulled over the idea for a moment. Using his most persuasive tone, which he normally reserved for the tedious occasions on which he had to engage politicians and dignitaries, he said, “Faal Psijic Order los suleykaar.” The word for ‘power’ had an immediate effect, catching Therion’s interest. “Nust los hin grah-zeymahzin. Voth niin hi los muliik.”

The Psijic Order is powerful. They are your allies. With them you are stronger. He reflected on his words, double checking his translation.

A deep rumbling sound of consideration came from Therion’s chest.

“Nii huvut pah do dii mul,” he said uncertainly. “Zu'u fen kos gesahlo.”

“It requires all of my strength,” Farengar translated for the Altmer. “I will be weakened.”

Ondolemar placed a hand on Therion’s shoulder, squeezing reassuringly.

Talamagne nodded his support.

“Mu fen jaaril hi. We will protect you,” Farengar promised.

The Dragonborn let out a heavy sigh. Closing his eyes, he furrowed his brow in concentration. The aura of souls around him whipped up in a sudden gale of wind, before suddenly branching off in numerous directions, the white orbs each finding a Psijic to hover over. One by one, lights drifted down like glowing snow, settling onto the monks and absorbing into their bodies, followed by a sudden gold light flaring in every direction, blinding the three men.

Farengar felt Therion sag and quickly supported his weight as the elf slumped.

When the after images finally faded and he could see once more, he found Therion was no longer glowing. His whispering aura had gone and his hair was once again obeying the whims of gravity.

The Psijic Monks stirred one by one, rising to their feet with shared looks of confusion.

Quaranir looked the most surprised, as he found himself surrounded by his brethren. Particularly Nerien. The monk lay over him, having tried to protect him to the very end. He looked at Nerien with relief and gratitude as the mer sat up.

With a deep throated groan, Therion raised his head and opened his eyes, looking down at Farengar.

The mage started as he found a tender hand on his cheek.

“I killed you…” Therion said in a choked whisper.

Farengar’s heart ached at the look of devastation on his face.

Smiling, Farengar wiped away a tear rolling down his cheek.

“You tried,” the mage said with a gentle chuckle. “But I was determined to collect on our bet as to which of us would die first. I win.”

Despite his best efforts not to, Therion couldn’t resist laughing.

Wrapping Farengar up in his arms, he kissed him deeply, the Nord’s warm lips sending a peaceful wave throughout his body.