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: Songs for Nomads 5.8

[(Anonymous)]

Immediately an orc, dressed like a dandy but painted like a warrior, comes stalking down the gangplank. “Enough! We’re headed for Dawnstar. You can tell Erikur he’ll see his shipment when we see his coin, and not bef- who in the name of Malacath are you?”

“Not who you were expecting, I take it.”

His hand drifts to the mace at his hip. “If you’re smart, you’ll turn around and forget you were ever here.”

Freyja lifts her hands, empty palms outward. “We’re not looking for trouble.”

“I don’t care if you’re looking for it – you’ve found it if you don’t walk away. Sayed,” he growls, and a wiry Redguard on deck nocks an arrow.

“Even if you stand to make some coin? We only want passage to Dawnstar. That’s where you’re going, isn’t it?.”

“This ain’t a passenger vessel for noblemen, sweetie,” he sneers.

Freyja gives him her fiercest stare. “Then it’s a good thing I’m not a noble, isn’t it?”

He’s quiet for a long, tense moment. Freyja continues to stare him down; orcs in general respond well to bravado. Out of the corner of her eye she watches the smuggler on deck, waiting with his half-drawn bow.

“Go get the captain,” the orc finally barks, to one of his crew.

The captain turns out to be an old Nord named Volf, with a long grey beard and a wicked scar just beneath his left eye, red and raised and curved like a fishhook. He takes one look at them and steeples his fingers under his grizzled chin. “What are you running from?”

“The double-crossing son of a whore who took over my gang,” Freyja says, without missing a breath. “We had a good operation going before he staged his mutiny.” The captain just smiles at her.

“I’ve got a sense for people,” he says. “You’re no common bandit, lovely - I can see that just by looking at you. Why are you really in such a hurry?”

Freyja pauses for only a beat; men like him can scent weakness. “Got me,” she shrugs, and then winks at him. “I’m a jailbreaker - someone hired me to pull these sorry louts out of a cell.”

“Who?”

She scoffs. “A moment ago you were telling me I looked like a professional.”

His grin shows a gold tooth. “Fair enough. You any good?”

“I got them out of Castle Dour, didn’t I?”

“Maybe you did and maybe you didn’t. Where else you work?”

Careful, Freyja thinks. She’s willing to bet he’s familiar with the inside of several prisons, and ready to grill her on what they look like. “Markarth,” she says.

He laughs. “Now I know you’re lying. No one escapes Cidhna Mine.”

“I did. Or didn’t you hear? I’d have thought a man like you would know the latest rumors.”

The captain regards her with new respect. “I did hear about a breakout, a few months ago,” he says. Then he smiles again, slyly. “If you’re so good, you must have plenty of coin.”

Damn.

“Aye,” she says, “and I’m not in a hurry to donate it to the jarl’s coffers. You think I carry a load of gold on me when I’m aiming to get myself jailed, you’re a much bigger fool than I took you for.”

He smiles again. “How much do you have?”