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

Call of the Blood 5.1/?

[(Anonymous)]

5. Home

In my nightmare I was back in Markarth, in that shallow tomb buried beneath the earth with the other vermin that I had called home. Home. My mother was tugging me over to a pile of rubble, feverishly burying me beneath it. I strained and fought her, trying to catch a glimpse of her face, but all I could see was long tangled auburn curls. Screams and the clash of steel echoed in the distance. Tears sprang to my eyes as Mother piled stones and bits of wood on top of me, drowning out the light and dream-me let out a sob.
"Shhh, be quiet, there's a good girl." She stroked her face, "Stay there, no matter what."
The noises were getting closer. Mother threw a pile of cloth over the top and I was left in darkness listening to my panting breath echoing in the narrow space.

A loud crash made me jump and I pressed the palm of her hand against my mouth to stifle my cry. I couldn't hear all the words in the chamber but I could hear Mother pleading and crying and men cruelly laughing. A thud of a body hitting the floor and a cheer from the men, I thrashed, trying desperately to wake up.
No! I don't want to remember…

The rhythmic slap of flesh on flesh filled the chamber and I bit my hand to muffle my sobs. I didn't want to remember. A scrape above me and light flooded into my hiding place, as Ulfric Stormcloak pulled away the block covering me. That's not right. A giant hand descended on my shoulder…

And I woke up with a jolt. There was a hand shaking me and I instinctively thrashed, fighting it, still caught in the nightmare. The shadowy figure pulled back and I began to focus. I was in the carriage heading to Markarth, Torvar snoring in one corner, Vilkas opposite me wide awake, face shadowed in the dawn light.
"You were dreaming."
I nodded, not trusting herself to speak.
"We'll be at Markarth in a couple of hours. Not worth you trying to go back to sleep now."
I nodded again and he passed his water gourd. I swigged at the brackish water, grimacing slightly at the salty taste and passed it back, "Thanks."
He inclined his head and turned slightly to gaze out at the passing countryside and the lightening sky.

Call of the Blood 5.2/?

[(Anonymous)]

We arrived in Markarth at late afternoon. The sight of the grey gates melding into the ravine and spilling into the green plateau of the Rift looked distinctly alien and unwelcoming. I was no student of history but I had always supposed that the Dwemer were isolationist in nature, purely from their citadels. I bet Vilkas would know for sure, but there was no way in Oblivion that I would ask him and reveal my ignorance. I reached for my sword from where it lay under the seat then leaned over to elbow Torvar hard, interrupting him mid-snore, "Wake up, we're here."
The Companion groaned and muttered, hopping out the carriage first to stretch his legs. I quickly followed suit, relishing the ache in my body as I could finally move freely. Vilkas headed straight to their bags, pulling them free from the webbing on the side of the cart and hoisting them effortlessly onto his shoulder.
Show off.
"Come along, whelps. We've a job to do."

Last time I'd been here had been a flying visit with Karliah. I'd waited at the stables whilst Karliah had snuck in to speak with the Court mage, Calcemo. I hadn't had to set foot across the gates and that had been bad enough. Torvar and I trailed behind Vilkas, up the steps and through the bronze plated gates. Butterflies were twisting my stomach.
I've got the proverbial bad feeling about this…
The market inside was teeming this early in the morning but beneath the bustle something felt rotten, an undercurrent of malice and fear rippling through the city like the streams of churning water that cascaded down from the mountain.
From the tense shoulders of Vilkas, I could see that he sensed it too, "No fighting or getting into trouble. Either of you. This place is as corrupt as fuck."
I nodded darkly, lost in the past; I knew exactly how corrupt this place could be. And it didn't look as though things had changed.

We began to head across to the Silver-Blood Inn when I got sent sprawling to the floor as a small man pushed past me screaming, "For the Forsworn." There was a press of people as the crowd tried to get away from the commotion and I was terrified that I would be trampled as I fought to get up. Feet kicked me, knocking the Slow Time Shout from my lungs, and I felt a crunch as someone stepped on my left hand. A booted foot planted on my stomach and I cried out involuntarily. Then the weight was gone and I was being unceremoniously hoisted to my feet, Vilkas a steadfast island in the flow of the crowd. He pulled me in close to his body, wrapping an arm round me and using his bulk to force a way to the side. As we made their way to where Torvar was pressed against the wall, I glanced behind as the clamour behind us died down, guards surrounding two corpses, blood pooling from both to run in rivulets down the cobblestones.
"What the fuck was that about?" Torvar cursed, glancing over as the guards began dragging both bodies away. I frowned, clutching my throbbing hand, "I'm not entirely sure, I think he said he was Forsworn but the Reachmen were always fairly peaceful."
I felt Vilkas scoff against me, "It's been a while since you've been here, hasn't it? The Reachmen are still rebelling, against the Empire, against the Nords and against the Stormcloaks. And they've gotten worse since Ulfric Stormcloak began his 'Skyrim is for the Nord's' campaign." He glanced down at me and seemed to realise that he was still holding me, releasing me quickly, "You should heal yourself."

I nodded gathering my magicka, before pausing. There was something wrong with what I had just witnessed and it niggled at me, trying to get my attention.
"Igne. Heal yourself."
Whatever it was vanished and I shook my head, trying to clear out the echoes from my past, focusing on my swelling hand and aching stomach. When I was healed we headed back towards the Inn, casting a dark glance at the blood congealing on the cobbles.

Call of the Blood 5.3/?

[(Anonymous)]

We took separate rooms in the same corridor of the Inn and once I had freshened up from the bowl of clear and cool water and smoothed out the rat's nest that was my hair, I headed out to the tavern's main room. I paid for a ale and took a seat in a shadowed corner, whilst I waited for the others, casting a surreptitious eye over the other patrons. Most seemed to be miners or ruffian's from the Warrens, though there were one or two more affluent men around, probably lowly skilled silver-smiths. The mood was sombre and brooding, like the ominous calm before a storm. The thief part of me was screaming at me to get away from this wretched hive but the part of me that I had been trying to make more of an effort to listen to was saying that something was desperately wrong here and that I needed to do something about it.

Fuck.

A dark shadow crossed my vision and I started, stupidly I hadn't been paying attention to my sur-roundings any more. An aging Nord, eyes and nose red with drink, skin caked with dust and stinking of sweat and beer had plonked himself down next to me on the tiny bench.
"Hey there, sweet thing."

Oh Divines, his breath stunk.

I discretely tried to ease away but the idiot followed me, invading my personal space, "Up for a little fun?"
My fists clenched but he didn't notice. Mindful of Vilkas' earlier warning, I bit back my urge to shove him away and managed a grimacing smile, "I'm flattered, really but I'm not here to have fun, I'm here on business."
The man chuckled, "Oh aye, business is it? I get ya'. You know what, sweetie, I once fucked another whore with a face like yours. Down in the warrens." The drunken wretch was leering over me. My hand clenched round my tankard and I took another sip, trying to quell my rising temper. "Must'a been twen'y years ago." His hand came up to caress a strand of my hair but before I could take a swing at him, he was being hauled out of his seat by a very angry Vilkas who snarled in his face, "Get lost, rat."
The man fled, hitting the door jamb in his haste to escape. Deprived of my original target my anger found a new substitute.
"What in the name of Oblivion do you think you're playing at?"
Vilkas glared right back at me, "Saving you from Cidhna Mine?"
"I had it under control," I growled, standing.
"Is that what you think?" He raised a eyebrow at me.
Playing the supercilious bastard as usual.
Not waiting for a reply he continued with his lecture, "You'd have swung a punch, started a brawl and got thrown in jail for 'disturbing the peace' or the guards might even have recognised you from one of your actual crimes."
I deliberately stepped into his body space, refusing to back down, glaring up at him, "I can handle myself. I've been managing for my entire life- certainly since before you came along and I really don't need or want your protection!"
Our faces were now inches apart, flushed with rage. Torvar was shifting uneasily in the background, juggling three metal tankards spilling flat ale onto the floor,
"Maybe you two should calm down, eh? You're attracting a lot of attention."

We were. The whole wretched tavern was eyeing us, half just looking for entertainment and the other half with a slightly more sinister intent, hands dropped to concealed weapons.

This place really is a tinderbox. All that's needed is a spark…

So I backed down, meekly dropping my eyes and nodding, though the clench to my jaw remained.
"Thank you, Vilkas." My voice was perfectly level. "I'm just going to get some fresh air. I'll rejoin you both in a minute." I inclined my head in what I hoped was a graceful manner and headed for the door to calm down, still inwardly fuming.

Call of the Blood 5.4/?

[(Anonymous)]

Outside the sky had faded to the colour of a bruise as night approached and the traders were pack-ing up their wares in the tiny marketplace. Ignoring the bustle I headed down towards the ravine dangling my legs over the edge as I watched the churning torrents of water escape the city and flow into the Reach. The rumble of the water and the cooling spray from the white water helped me calm down as I stared at the endless cascade. Soft footsteps approached but I didn't need to look. I knew who it was. Vilkas sat down beside me, silent, turning his attention to the water and whilst it wasn't an uncomfortable silence I still felt the urge to break it.

"I'm sorry." I shot him a quick glance, wondering if he was angry at me for running out of the tavern or for snapping at him.Or both. He didn't seem to be but I felt the urge to try and explain, "It's just, this place, being here. It sets my teeth on edge."
"You don't like Markarth?" He sounded curious. I had suspected that a large part of his dislike for me came from my reluctance to share anything about my past.
"You could say that." I weighed the decision in my mind.

Sometimes you need to take a leap of faith.

"I'm from here. Originally. We lived in the Warrens, my mother was a whore and I never knew who my father was. Maybe he was a Reachman. It would explain a few things." I shrugged. "Anyway, when Ulfric took the city his soldiers killed everyone who 'associated' with the Reachmen. My mother included. When the soldiers came she hid me under a pile of rubble, I was about four, maybe younger. Afterwards an old lady took me in, I scavenged food for us, she gave me somewhere safe to stay."
"A hard life."
"But hardly unique. This place was full of kids like me back then, and we were the lucky ones who managed to avoid Ulfric's troops. Anyway Silda, the old woman, died from a disease when I was eleven so I decided to head to my mother's family in Bruma. They didn't really want an extra mouth to feed so I ended up pretty much neglected, stealing what I could. I had a few lucky escapes and eventually found the Thieves Guild. They took me in, gave me a home of sorts and protected me. Taught me how to survive."
I risked a glance at the man, unsure about his response to my disclosure about my rather sketchy past, but I couldn't see his expression in the dusk so I carried on, "Anyway I felt like it was time to come home. I missed Skyrim, so I hopped on a cart crossing the border and got caught up in that Stormcloak ambush." I let out a bitter laugh, "You should have seen my face when I woke up and realised I was sharing a prison cart with that bastard. And when they went to execute me first…" I shook my head as I trailed off, aware that I was babbling and I scrambled for anything to deflect his attention, "How about you? What's your story?"

He gave a small laugh, staring down at the eddies of the river and the flickering lights of the dancing torchbugs, "To hear Farkas tell it, our father raised us at Jorrvaskr as happy pups, running around biting knees. I love my brother, but his brains are not his strong suit. We were brought there by Jergen. Whether he was our father or not, I don't care. He left to fight in the Great War and never came back. So he's not my problem any more. We've been at Jorrvaskr as long as either of us can remember, though."

I glanced at him, a small sympathetic smile twisting my lips. I'd never actually had a proper conversation with Vilkas, only squabbles and arguments, had never bothered to try to understand the man. This felt like a tiny tentative step bridging the distance between us, but it was a step and one in the right direction.
His eyes met mine in the darkness, then he stood, rolling powerful shoulders and offering me a hand, "Come on. We shouldn't leave Torvar alone in there the way our luck's going."

I grinned as I took his hand, allowing him to help pull me to my feet, "At least we haven't been attacked by a dragon."
"I'd enjoy that."
I rolled her eyes though I kept my tone light, "I bet you would, you crazy bastard."
"Hmph, some fearsome Dragonborn you are." He pushed open the door, letting me pass through first.
"Feel free to swap any time, oh brave Companion."

Not entirely joking there.

Call of the Blood 5.5/?

[(Anonymous)]

Torvar was sat at the table we had vacated, hand straying to his sword as he cast a shifty glance around the tavern. He stuck out like a sore thumb. Divines save me, he looks like such an easy mark. I slid back onto the bench, leaning back on the cool stone wall and grabbing one of the beers in passing. I was somewhat surprised when Vilkas slid along the bench to sit next to me, in-stead of by Torvar.
"All friends now?" Torvar's eyes flicked between the two of us. I nodded, "It won't happen again."
"Don't make promises you can't keep."
I shot Vilkas a wounded glare for his comment, though it lacked my usual heat, "Anyway, what’s the plan?"
"We look for this criminal."
Would punching him count as breaking my promise?

After a drink and a meal consisting of grilled fish and leeks, much to Torvar's disgust, we retired to Vilkas's room with bottles of mead to discuss the plans for tomorrow. Torvar took a seat at the tiny desk, so I climbed onto the stone bed, that was still uncomfortable even when piled high with furs.
Damn, I really hate this city.

Vilkas leaned against the wall, arms folded across his chest, "The man we're looking for is called Morven; Breton, dirty blond hair, brown eyes and two distinctive tattoos on each cheek. Wanted for the murder of three Nord women over the last year, possibly more. Each time he vanishes without a trace and the local guards are unable to find him." I glanced up and looking at Vilkas I could see his thoughts were running along the same lines as mine.

Corrupt as fuck, indeed.

"So what's the plan? We poke around, ask a few questions?" Torvar grinned at me, "Or how about we get the little girl here to dress up all innocent and get her to wander around and see what trou-ble see can attract?"
I rolled my eyes, "You do realise the trouble I normally attract consists of dragons, don't you?"
"I've always wanted to kill a dragon-"
Men! I threw Vilkas's pillow at Torvar's face and he promptly caught it and threw it back.
"Enough!" Vilkas was growling, a sure sign his temper was on the boil.
"Sorry," Torvar muttered. "So, where do the scum in Markarth go?"
"There's a place called the Warrens," I could feel Vilkas's gaze rest briefly on me as he spoke, "but I don’t think we'll find him there. This guy is smart; the client's been looking for him for months to no avail. If he's here he's hiding somewhere no one would think to look."
I sighed, this was looking to be a more complicated task than I had originally thought, "There are plenty of abandoned houses here, not to mention the Dwemer ruins underneath the Keep. And we shouldn't discount the Warrens, people here look after their own. They could be hiding him."
Vilkas nodded, "I'll go check out the ruins tomorrow, Torvar you can do the Warrens and Igne you can ask around the city and check out some of those houses."
I pursed my lips. No fair. I've got the easy job here. Vilkas saw my scowl and rolling his eyes added, "We can't pick locks. You can."
Stupid logic.
"Fine."
Torvar nodded as well and we both stood up to make their way to their rooms to get what sleep they could. It would be a busy day tomorrow.

Is it too late to say I'm getting a bad feeling about this?

Re: Call of the Blood 5.5/?

[(Anonymous)]

This fic. THIS FIC! It just keeps getting better and better, and I can't actually remember what the prompt was and I don't care, this fic is that good. I love it. And best of all you sent them to Markarth to do the Forsworn Conspiracy! I love that quest!

Please continue, A!A, I'm reading with baited breath!

Re: Call of the Blood 5.5/?

[(Anonymous)]

I like it, I like it! you're creating a story that leaves us speechless! you are keeping the plot, but please no rape, do vilkas discovers that what he feels for our dragonborn as a result of torture or abduction, but not rape! Soon, we hope your new update!

A!A here

[(Anonymous)]

Glad you like it ;)The next few chapters are mostly written so hopefully will be up in a few days. I just need to polish them :D

A!A here

[(Anonymous)]

Didn't the original prompt require Vilkas covered in cream and chocolate sauce and various other tasty treats or did I make that up?
...
...
Sorry, got distracted for a second by the images there ;)

Glad you're enjoying it! I always hated Markarth in game but it did make for interesting times and the politics of the Reach were so interesting plot-wise (and I'm a bit of a sucker for the Forsworn at heart).

OP here

[(Anonymous)]

Unf! Just unf! I'm really enjoying this story! I haven't a clue as to what flavours to add because you're doing great cooking this thing on your own!

Did I read a comment about a chocolat covered Vilkas and what not? UNF! Please!

Can't wait for the next chapter!

A!A here

[(Anonymous)]

Well I have taken your suggestions in the prompt on board and if you think of anything else let me know! I won't say which ones because spoilers!

I'm afraid chocolate covered Vilkas was just what my incredibly dirty mind went to when you asked for Vilkas as a dessert...mmmmmm...though I may have to work in something along those lines now, just for closure :p

Do they have chocolate in Skyrim? I'm sure Sheogorath would have some...and maybe Sanguine...