DONE-mer

Shitpost adventures/RP of a 100% legit Dunmer

[mathprofessorquotes]

Now it’s time for vector differentiation’s ugly drunk uncle: integration.

Electromagnetic Theory professor (via mathprofessorquotes)

[mathprofessorquotes]

Oh dear, what have I done here… my god…”

Math professor (via mathprofessorquotes)

[snowberry-pie]

It’s General Tullius appreciation hours :)

[coyotemage-deactivated20250215]

Reblogging this because even though I’m having a lot of fun with my Stormcloak playthrough, I fuckin’ miss Tullius (and Rikke and Hadvar, too). But especially Tullius.

He’s 90% of the reason my other characters ended up joining the Legion. He gets a lot of hate from the fanbase for being a blunt and sometimes outright rude asshole, but think about it like this: He’s stationed far away from home, in a land he’s not accustomed to, and is being forced to help its native population destroy itself because the Empire can’t be bothered to send him with more resources and/or is unable to thanks to the avalanche. It probably crushes him to have to watch people kill their own neighbors and friends over what, to him, was an entirely preventable war - and all for one man’s desire for the throne.

The first thing he does when Alduin attacks Helgen is command his soldiers to save as many people as possible, and he himself fights on the front lines in defense of wounded civilians. If you linger while running with Hadvar, he’ll straight up yell at you to run because he doesn’t want anyone else to die.

If you side with the Legion, he’ll regularly confide pretty dangerous thoughts to you about the Thalmor and expresses doubts and reservations about his side in the war if you manage to unlock certain conversations with him. He’ll tell you at the Thalmor Embassy that Ulfric isn’t wrong about all of his criticisms of the Empire. During Season Unending, he’ll inform you that most of the Legion is tied up at the border preventing any more Thalmor from getting in. At the end of the Reunification of Skyrim questline, he’ll (not very subtly) hint to you that the Empire is gearing up for a Round 2 with the Dominion.

While a lot of people argue that the Stormcloaks treat the player better and with more overall respect than the Legion, I feel like that’s not totally true. I think Galmar’s test is more reasonable than Rikke’s, and find his dialogue to be less abrasive (”here’s some stuff to help you out, try not to die” vs “if you die I have no further use for your corpse”), but the Stormcloaks take a long while to warm up to the player. Tullius is an ass initially, but it doesn’t take him very long to start trusting you and confiding in you.

Not to mention, if you like to sit down in Castle Dour every now and then like I do, he’ll often go out of his way to seek you out and sit down next to you and reassure you that you WILL win this war!

As a further bonus, he gets actual character development at the end of the Imperial questline, having come to love Skyrim and respect the Nords, even if he doesn’t quite understand them. He plans to stay in Skyrim long-term out of his newfound appreciation for the land and culture.

Tullius deserves more credit than he gets.

[dyslexic-daedra]

Given that his right hand man, Rikke, is a nord, it’s long been my assumption that he intentionally “forgets” about sovengarde when you kill Ulfric.  There’s no way he could possibly forget the nord warrior afterlife when the woman right next to him constantly correcting his social faux pas is a Nord.  He does that to rub salt in a wound.  Is it the best action?  Noooo... Is it the wisest?  Definitely not... Did he piss off a lot of his own men and stormcloaks?  Undoubtedly.  Is he a human being at the end of his rope wanting to get one last jab in?  Wouldn’t we all be?

[dyslexic-daedra]

A Minor Lecture on Soul Gems

The classroom was silent as the students slowly filed into their seats.  Even their footsteps were muted on the cold stone floor.  The shivering breath of a particularly chilled student and the harsh squeal of a wooden chair being drawn into place were the only things to break the soft ambience of the room.  In the early winter morning, the colors themselves seemed to be muted and grey though bright light filtered in from the windows settling on half of the class and their professor.  He was a man out of time, or so he had been described.  No collegiate robe.  No full beard.  A knitted vest, pressed slacks, and manicured facial hair.  His was an intentional look.  He was a man of intentional looks, for he had crafted his body to suit his niche in the mortal world.  Thus his true self had been hidden within the confines of a tall and lithe dark elf with skin as dark as ink and hair and eyes as pale as the clouds.

And so it was his intention that his class would be somber and quiet that day, as he had set something forbidden on his desk for all to see.  The blue rock glinted in the light-- the only colorful thing in the room.  The professor, who had once named himself ‘Talasse’ and later added the surname ‘Rayenel,’ stood next to it leaning back on the desk half sitting on the wood.  His arms crossed; hands pressed to his side.  His face down.  When it was quiet enough, when the chairs stopped moving and the loudest sound was that of the cold student, he lifted his head.

His white eyes glinted like frost on a window.  

“You are all awfully quiet today.”  The class was silent and unsure of how to respond.  “Do you know what I have on my desk with me?”  The professor’s voice was bright but not chipper.  He waited a moment before reaching for the gem and holding it up in front of him.  “Surely you do.  I know several of you have a fondness for enchanting, and a number of you study binding.  This object is a requirement for both studies.”  The students felt a sense of shame despite knowing they had done nothing wrong.  Their professor, a man out of time and a demon from the Apocrypha, had only stated that such things were banned from his classroom.  Eventually a bold younger student raised her hand.  When he pointed to her with the stone, she cautiously answered.  “A soul gem?”  For was it not obvious what he held?  Why was no one else answering him?

Talasse beamed.  His sharp white teeth flashed.  “Very good! It’s a soul gem!  A grand one at that!  Do you know what a soul gem does?”  He pointed randomly into his classroom this time picking on a man.  The man stopped, frozen from being put on the spot, and slunk down before answering, “holds souls?”  The professor’s lips drew into a tight line before he pointed to another student.  “Traps souls?”  “Yes!”  He bounced on one leg briefly before settling.  “And does anyone know why I ban the use of them in my class?!”  He was smiling, bright and wide like a threat.  “To challenge us--?” “NO!”  The student slunk back despite his tone leaning more towards excitement than frustration or anger.  “Not at all!  But today I will challenge you since I seemingly have not done so.”  He was not the sort of professor who allowed groaning in his classroom, but there was a shared pained sigh among the students.

“When you trap a soul, what do you think happens to it?  Do you think that cute little skeever is stuck in that rock forever?  Do you think you destroy the soul when you use the gem?  Or is the soul released?  Do you think on it at all?  Do you wonder why you are allowed by your peers to trap the souls of beasts and lesser folk but not your fellow sapient beings?  Have you ever considered that the border between the ‘lesser folk’ and your fellows is nonexistent?  Or that what you think the border is is actually something very different?  As you have likely seen, magic has no care for morality.  There is no cosmic judge of moral and immoral.”

“I do not have an answer for what happens to the soul itself when the gem is used and the soul discharged.  I have never been trapped.  I can tell  you that this gem in my hands holds a very strong soul.  At this point it’s not a question of what kind of soul is in here but who’s soul is in here.  The energy of the soul is directly connected to the power of the mind.  Souls are connected to aetherius and oblivion and are made of great magic.  When you use a gem you disperse some of that magic and bind it into an object.  I have to wonder, does that take away from the being trapped in there?  If you trapped me and used my soul, would I lose a part of myself?  If you were trapped and used, would you lose a part of yourself?”

“As an Archivist, I have spent more time reading than any of you have been alive.  Every mortal who wished for my patron’s support has returned every bit of knowledge to him two fold.  I have read material on the nature of soul gems, some of which mention a sort of special hell for the souls trapped in them, and I have read accounts of souls being used to power mechanical beings while retaining their personhood.”

He paused in his small rant, leaned back on his desk, and held the stone in both hands.  

“It is no doubt hypocritical for a daedra like myself to lecture on the cruelty of soul trapping.  But hypocrisy like this is that of a wisened being.  And that is the first reason as to why I have banned soul gem use from my classroom.  The second is far more tame and does not warrant your quiet fear…”  He looked up from the gem in his hands and smiled.  “You waste so much magic with a soul gem.  It’s excessive.  My limitations upon you force you to be more economic.  To do less with more and to hurt no one in the process.  Not a rat, not a daedra.”

[tenebris-metallum]

Decided to do a new avatar for my oc Vire’s blog!  Also I just wanted to draw him.

I love the him

[unicorn-argent]

Sheogorath but like, in tacky dad on vacation fashion

[unicorn-argent]

Every other Daedric Prince: I can’t manifest directly on Nirn because reasons so my servants/underlings/possessed mortals do everything for me

Sheogorath:

[foulserpent]

also i think bc restoration induces tissues to mend, its possible for novices attempting extremely complex healing in a rush to “overheal” and generate new tissue accidentally, or even mold organs together in really ugly cases. this is pretty rare and usually happens on much smaller levels that the body can later correct, but is a real danger.

i think this would be hard to accomplish intentionally and it would be much easier to just cast a destruction spell, but a really fucked up master healer might be able to weaponize this in combat- cast a healing spell on an enemies wound but cause the tissue to multiply out of control until it crushes or overtakes their organs.

[dyslexic-daedra]

People don’t think about how fucked up restoration can be.  On one hand, you have the above with horrifying cancer magic, on the other hand, you could make super soldiers who simply heal themselves with every wound and tear, who build muscle far more quickly than the body should allow.

On the contrary, I don’t think it would be that uncommon, but it would be why people are hesitant to become healers and part of why people are hesitant to trust healers outside of the religious institutions.  Would you trust some random mage not to grow your organs out of control?  I wouldn’t.  But the temples have the insurance of more experienced healers and the training they provide. 

Another magic category I think gets overlooked in terms of how fucked up and dangerous it could be is illusion.  That shit’s straight up mind magic. Pacify, fear, frenzy, and rally all fall under it in Skyrim.  Not only is frenzy dangerous enough on it’s own right, but spells from earlier games like Sound from Morrowind are clear hallucinations.  But cast Mayhem in a crowded place, and they’ll never know who did it. 

[dyslexic-daedra]

I threw together a height reference for my own use.  None of these have explicit anchors in canon, but then again nothing about height or age have any real anchors in canon at all.  We have a great deal of anecdotes about different ages but...

Using my height as a 5′1 human being and thinking about how genuinely tall someone who is 6ft to me is as well as how much shorter someone who is 4′8 appears to me, I figured it was important to keep that perception in mind.  It’s easy to say a tall person could be 7 feet tall when that’s absurdly tall. 

For human/dunmer/orsimer I DID go online and look up height statistics for the real world population.  I did not include Khajit or Argonians because they can vary wildly. 

To read this, 70% of the population’s height is found within the boxes.  The extremes (the end lines) represent less than 1% of the population.  Think of the extremes as absolute min and absolute max. These heights do not account for various medical issues such as giantism, but if you met an Altmer who was 8′6, there would be some suspicion as to whether or not they had a medical condition.

[dyslexic-daedra]

oriinthel‌:

Ori drew in a sharp breath, and her head shot up, meeting his gaze for the first time that evening. “I’m not afraid of you! I’m not.” She swallowed and after another, more bracing breath, she pulled out the crumpled letter and set it on the table, then pushed it a little closer to him. “I love you. You’re my family. And I didn’t want to disappoint you.” 

She glanced back down, short nails now picking at the sleeves of her shirt. “Doing magic… being a good student… becoming a good mage like you, or Revus… it’s more important than the dragon… things overall. But right now, things are just. And I just. I didn’t want to hurt you. If I leave, I’ll be a quitter. And I’ll be putting this dragonborn business over my healing studies.” 

Ori stuttered and stumbled over her words, hands wringing furiously as she almost visibly closed in on herself. This certainly would have been a better conversation over dinner. At least then there were other people there. And the distraction of food. Perhaps it was partially the lack of sleep, and partially having the truth finally pulled from her, she couldn’t say exactly. Hopefully he’d read the letter, or none of what she said would make sense.”

His face went through a few expressions.  First relief, then confusion, warmth, and disappointment, but it settled on dumbfoundedness.  Relief that she was not afraid.  Confusion at the crumpled letter (which he did not pick up).  Warmth when she said she loved him.  Disappointment when she claimed being a mage like him or Revus was more important to her than seemingly anything, and dumbfoundedness as the last claim sunk in and she mentioned ‘quitting’. 

“Oriinthel…”  He reached out and placed a hand on her wrist.  “I am flattered.  I am.  But no one becomes a great mage by burning out.  Heh…  When I met Revus, most of his magic was performative at best.  He was Telvanni, certainly, and well over a hundred years old, but I could have snapped him in half-- I mean.”  He bit his lip at his faux pas.  “Most of his work was with his hands following what he enjoyed.  It took him a long time to really get anywhere with his magic.  And me…  Well.  You really shouldn’t compare yourself to a daedra.  I don’t mean because I am powerful.  I mean because I have had all the time in the world to get to where I am.  I was born in the waters of the Apocrypha before this world existed.  But…”

He did not try to smile.  He knew that his attempts at comforting smiles often appeared uncanny and worse than his bland frown.  His warmth was instead in his eyes.  A tweak of his brows, a calculated change in his face around his eyes.  This was a sincere expression if not one that came naturally.  “I am still nowhere near as great a mage as many of the mortals I have met.  I have no concept of how long it took me to learn how to manipulate magic, but you’re so young and can already cast it without so much effort.  And I have met mages who could out do me with their eyes closed-- some of whom might still be alive.  They didn’t become so skilled by running themselves ragged.”

Talasse moved next to Ori and placed his hand on her shoulder.  “It’s not quitting to take a break.  And it’s not quitting if you come back to it.  And even if you did quit…  what of it?  Whether or not you pursued magic, you’re still my grand niece.  You are aware that the man I married had absolutely no magical inclination?  That two of the three children we raised had no interest in magic?  And…”  He wanted to press a kiss to the top of her head like he had done so many times before for his own children, but that was not a permission that had been given.  Just as he did not hold her, he waited for her to seek that affection.  “How do you know your dragon business and your education as a healer aren’t one in the same?  Perhaps there is some old aedric magic geared for restoration.  A power word you don’t yet know. Of course none of that matters if you don’t want it to.”

[uesp]

Rejecting the Princes

Something I Enjoy: The reactions of the Daedric Princes if you reject their quests in The Elder Scrolls II: Daggerfall.

Azura: “No! You’re supposed to say yes! You’re supposed to say: Yes, beautiful Azura, I would gladly murder at the snap of your ivory fingers. Boor! Bigot! Barbarian! Now, I must go before I forget that I am a lady and say something that I’ll regret.”

Boethiah: “Pah, you make me sick. Don’t summon me again, Agent, unless you grow up or are looking for a fight.”

Clavicus Vile: “Why, you nauseating insect. You poison the air with your thickwitted insolence. How dare you summon forth the greatest of the Princes of Oblivion and refuse the simplest request I could possibly propose? In return for water, I offer you wine and you spit both in my face. I will not forget this, Agent.”

Hermaeus Mora: “You answer negatively. Am I to understand that you sought power, but seek it for free? You ought to have sought wisdom instead, for that is what you need. I bid you a very disappointed goodbye.”

Hircine: “Seldom am I summoned, even rarer are the occasions when I am free to answer a summoning. To be perfectly blunt, this was a waste of my very precious time.”

Malacath: “Witless (player’s race), don’t you even know enough to lie? Do not waste my time with your pathetic yearnings.”

Mehrunes Dagon: “Scruh! Mortalcreature say no to Mehrunes Dagon! Mortalcreature know you time means nothing to Dagon, he remembers insult, yes. Hamita too black for Mortalcreature, no, I … will … remember Agent.”

Mephala: “That is just as well. I have better uses for my time than building a power base for ungrateful, lazy guttersnipes.”

Meridia: “Oh, that’s a shame. As a friendly warning, bad things happen to greedy (player’s race) adventurers willing to take, but not willing to give.”

Molag Bal: “You have wasted our time. We are not pleased.”

Namira: “No?! Now you taunt me, Agent. You tempt me out of my dark palace and then shun my company. If I thought you were merely being cruel, I could respect it. But I suspect that you are actually stupid, which I cannot abide. Therefore, I bid you a most disgusted goodbye.”

Nocturnal: “As I thought, no heart at all. We shall have no contract then, you and I, and, disappointed, return I to my cold palace. The souls within are no kinder than those here, but there, they follow.”

Peryite: “Changed your mind, eh? Don’t feel bad. It’s a sign of maturity to be brave enough to say no. Just give me a call when you change your mind. I know you will.”

Sanguine: “A pox on you, Agent. How dare you summon me forth and refuse my generous offer? Pray that I forgive you, Agent. Sanguine is an enemy none should have.”

Sheogorath: “La, rejected by a squalid (player’s race) with lice in its hair. How far has Sheogorath risen! I shall have to ask for a raise in my allowance. Tirrah, (player’s guild title/name).”

Vaernima: “No? Why … you … contemptible, sniveling, virtuous, sterling piece of goblin snot! I’m not going waste my precious time with anyone so poisonously moral.”

[dyslexic-daedra]

[dyslexic-daedra]

oriinthel‌:

“You’ve met Dad before.” Her brows knitted together, and she clasped her hands in her lap as she turned her gaze to the kettle. “It was when he visited and met Revus. No… I was talking about the other one. You know… the, uh… the dead one? The one you’re related to.”

She blinked for a moment at her Tala’s words. “I– I mean I guess it wouldn’t matter either way. I’m just one student.” She glanced back down. Perhaps leaving the college was a good idea after all…

… Which he then directly asked her about. Ori’s ears flicked and pinned back against her head, and she paused for a long moment before shaking her head, hair whipping side to side. “I– well, no? I don’t know. I would. I would just… run it I guess? I don’t have any experience teaching, so I don’t know if I should really decide how classes are run… and, you know, it’s probably different for every person… Is the tea ready yet?”

He watched her with the detached yet intense interest of a hawk eyeing a mouse.  His eyes were wide and unblinking, but his intention was hidden in the misplaced expression.  Talasse was not a bird of prey watching some unaware creature and judging if he could catch it and eat it.  He was a concerned man.  Concerned for his grand niece and for his students.  But she would not answer him.  She had never been open with him, and perhaps she wasn’t the one to ask, but she had been there, and he had had some sense of her unease by his door.  

When he spoke, his voice was true to his nature.  Genuine.  Melodic.  Curious.  Benign.  His head canted sharply and slightly.  “Why are you avoiding my question?”  The tea was likely ready, but he made no move for it.  “Oriinthel..?”  His hands came together, fingers knitting, between his knees.  “Are you afraid of my judgement?  Are you…”  His face shifted from the bird like curiosity to a softened sadness.  “Afraid of me..?”

Talasse hesitated in contemplation before leaning back.  “I suppose if the answer is yes to either of those, you would still answer no.  I cannot imagine being in your position.  Learning that one of your professors is first a daedra and then connected to your family.  I’ve never been able to navigate social channels.”

He paused briefly to pour the tea before sitting and trying to catch her gaze.  “I do not know if anyone has ever said this to you, Oriinthel, but you are never obligated to love someone.  Love is not something you can owe.  It is only ever a choice.  Regardless of that, I do choose to love you, and I will support you in your endeavors.  I am sorry for asking you such a delicate question in such a cumbersome way.  You are free to go.  You have always been free to go.”

[mathprofessorquotes]

This is kindergaten.

Differential Equations professor on the rigor of her class (via mathprofessorquotes)

[dyslexic-daedra]

aurielswaywardson‌:

Manarion listened contently as Talasse spoke of fire and his connection to it, via his students and his own family. He allowed the words to wash over him, letting himself relax into one of the most pleasant conversation he had had since his banishment from the Thalmor. 

The former General glanced sideways at the Dunmer, a teasing, mischeavious smile crossing his weathered and scarred features. A smile made him look younger, more carefree, even if his eyes crinkled at the corners and he possessed some laugh lines along his cheeks. 

“Of course not.” He joked. “Exactly what a person who is not coming onto someone else would say.” The Altmer shrugged a broad shoulder in response, puffing out a breath of air. “Firiel is around her somewhere. Last I saw, he was flirting with a Bosmer.” He looked around the warmly lit inn for his son, but found no trace, instead letting out a small chuckle. “To be young again.”

“I think if I were coming on to you,” he said with a jovial smile, “It’d be more like our sparring.  You’d punch me,” he waved a hand with his words.  “I’d say something sexual.  You’d groan and create as much distance as possible.  I’d make an innuendo...  How did I used to flirt...  The last person I successfully flirted with was Revus...  And that doesn’t quite count since I’ve known him for... a very long time.”

His brows knitted as he thought on it.  His courtship with his husband had been far more subdued and delicate than his fling with Revus all those years ago. 

“Oh but now I’m feeling nostalgic...  I don’t really want to flirt with anyone since... I don’t really want to.”  He looked out over the small population in the tavern.  “Even if Revus and I didn’t have a sort of monogamy, it’s just not fun anymore.”  A soft chuckle and he returned Manarion’s smile.  “Though it’s still fun to flirt with you.”  A wink.  “Probably because no one else will go hand to hand with me.  The college is filled with soft bodies.”  With a hum, he lifted his chin in an apparent daydream.  “I remember the first time I disarmed my husband with a parry knife.  He was so taken aback that he insisted we spar daily so that he could learn to counter it.  Gods... he was so sexy...  Had such a brutal weapon too-- what a quiet man.  What a monstrous mace.”

[dyslexic-daedra]

aurielswaywardson‌:

Manarion’s golden eyes remained steady and calm, even as he frowned slightly in thought. “Not your words, no.” He said, voice a soft, rumbling growl, a low chuff coming from him as he snorted in amusement. “Perhaps if you used Daedric.” A puzzling tilt of the head, accompanied by a flicking of notched ears. “It is not something that I really care to experiment with, no offense.”

The Altmer leaned back as Talasse spoke, his back resting against the table, resting his elbows on it and humming thoughtfully, low and deep in his chest, even as a small smile crossed his weathered and scarred features.

“Firiel is rather fond of her as well. He has always been a good big brother. It always made me so proud. He has a gentle heart, and the only time he has my temper is when someone is in danger. If anything happens to me, he will not allow any harm to come to his little duckling.” 

Manarion smiled and chuckled wistfully, giving Talasse’s shoulder one more reassuring squeeze before allowing his hand to drop. However, his body seemed much more relaxed than before they had started conversation; and it was the most at ease he had ever been around the Dunmer. 

“We make an odd pair. A Dovahkiin and a Daedra.”

Talasse smiled at both the squeeze and Manarion’s reassurances.  “It is not my intent to lace my words with magic.  Even when I cast, I do not use my voice.  I had one of my students use her voice on me-- which was fine and well until she got to the fire…  Heh, you would think that someone pretending to be a dunmer would have at least been equipped to handle a flame but…”  He reached up and idly touched the scarred part of his throat. 

“You know my husband’s family had an affinity for fire as well.  He was actually named for it despite having very little magical aptitude.  His niece had such an affinity for it that her magical applications of it would have fit with even the psijics, but she rejected even the college of Sapiarchs to instead join the Mages’ guild.  For all her affinity for it, she never chose to weaponize it.  Claimed weaponizing it was too narrow minded, but her experiments also proved to me that dragonfire is very different from … fire.  Fire.”

With almost a sly smile, Talasse turned his head to face his languid companion.   “I am always part of an odd pair.  My husband was a battlereeve of a people who despised daedra, and my dearest friend was a Telvanni who opposed slavery.  And I’m not coming on to you when I ask this, but are you staying by yourself tonight?  Loneliness is the largest killer of old people, and I think you qualify as an old person.  We both do.”

[dyslexic-daedra]

You seem to enjoy writing letters to people - have you ever thought of writing to your enemies or those you dislike? I'm sure you could find a way to irritate them and at least distract them from being horrible for a short time.