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

What's a Thief to a King? M!DB/Ulfric 24/??

[(Anonymous)]

Galmar hadn’t been wrong about Ulfric making himself a target; the missiles were falling like rain and Dyce held his shield over his head, flinching every time another arrow thudded into it. Ulfric showed no fear, and Dyce knew he had to do the same. So he Shouted, and they ran up the slope, Galmar batting aside the Imperial soldiers who ran down to meet them.

Dyce hissed as a lucky arrow skimmed his knuckles, but he didn’t drop his blade.

The watchtowers loomed over them. And Ulfric raised his head.

ZUN HAAL VIIK

“The archers are disarmed!” Dyce shouted. “Take the towers! FUS!” He Shouted in one of the doors, but he and Ulfric kept going; their goal was the gates, through which the Imperial troops not trapped in the watchtowers were retreating.

“They’ll bar them before we get there!” Galmar snarled.

Dyce shook his head. “Cover me.”

“Wait!” Ulfric ordered.

WULD NAH KEST

Dyce didn’t wait. The world blurred and then came to a halt again, the oak and iron doors of the gates closing like jaws just ahead of him. Dyce threw his shield with all his strength into the faces of the nearest Imperial troops and drew his second blade. Without the breath yet to Shout again, he ducked and weaved, and his blades flashed.

They struck at him, and he stumbled as a mace found his hip, and he rolled and somehow no bones were broken and he found his feet and lunged and his blade skewered an eye.

The Imperials held the gates open as the soldiers trapped between Dyce and the approaching Stormcloaks fought to get past him, but Dyce heard the frantic order to close them. It was too late for those still on the outside.

The gates creaked into place as Dyce gritted his teeth, willing the words forward.

Maybe if he could delay it. Just one word might be enough.

FUS

FUS RO DAH The gates blew back on their hinges, ropes snapping.

Dyce jumped as Ulfric put a hand on his shoulder. “Try not to get too far out in front, my friend,” he said hoarsely. Half his face was covered in blood, and an arrow was embedded in his fur cloak. His eyes and teeth gleamed as he smiled.

“Drop the ram! The gates are open! Forward!”

Galmar hollered the order, and further back Yrsarald passed it on, and sky blue and steel flowed like a great flood into Solitude.

“Secure the walls! Take the keep. You! That way!” Galmar was silenced momentarily as an arrow lodged in his shoulder. He tore it away and kept going.

Dyce knew these streets. He’d stumbled and snuck and swaggered down them, but he found himself lost. Buildings were burning. Out of the smoke, Imperial troops appeared from nowhere and he swung his blades until his arms ached. His eyes stung. He swallowed a potion and that was enough to fix his limp.

He caught a glimpse of Ralof putting his sword through a window, scooping up an unfortunate dog that had been tethered outside and hauling the creature up and into safety. He heard children screaming from an upstairs window. He met an old man, trying to wield a sword; Dyce knocked it away from him and kept running.

Smoke billowed into the clear morning sky. The eagles had all fled.

“Have you seen Hadvar?” Ralof appeared out of the smoke again, supporting another Stormcloak injured in the fighting.

Dyce shook his head, but he honestly didn’t think he’d recognise him in this mess. It was enough telling friend from foe. He came across a group of Stormcloaks and beckoned them to follow him. He didn’t know where Ulfric was, but was determined to find him.

Ulfric’s Voice was a rallying point. As Ulfric fronted up to the doors to Castle Dour, his followers heard him Shout and emerged from the chaos in the streets below, bloodied, singed, and determined.

Dyce ran to Ulfric’s side, where the Stormcloak leader was pressed against a stone wall, looking up at the approach to the castle.

“Keep the troops back! They’ve got a lot of flame up there.”

As if to prove his point a volley of flaming arrows landed among them, the Stormcloaks diving for cover, and frantically trying to put out their shields where they were hit.

“That’s why half the city’s on fire,” Dyce said, crouching down next to Ulfric.

“I didn’t want it to be like this,” Ulfric said.

“I can try and cool them off,” Dyce said.