Tharya Stormhand - Tumblr Posts

get to know my character: for tharya and miraak you can answer these questions for both! 3,4, 6, 11,17, 28, 39, anddddd 48 pls

thank you for the ask!! it is a welcome break from election watching lol. i answered all for both tharya & miraak below the cut!

3. What would be their favorite physical trait about themselves?

miraak doesn’t really have a favorite—he actually is quite proud of his body, minus the scars, and works hard to keep himself strong. however, he does particularly like his eyes and his arms.

tharya would have a tough time choosing simply because she doesn’t think of herself highly. but she does like her hair; it’s a nice color, soft, and she enjoys messing around with it.

4. What are their favorite physical traits about their lover? (One psychological and one physical)

HOOO BOY isn’t this a great ask. let me drop some knowledge: miraak literally worships tharya. he thinks she is an actual divine being, heaven sent. in that sense he treasures everything about her, but especially her eyes—they were his first anchors in the waking world—and her endless selflessness.

tharya really admires miraak’s intelligence; my man has an entire library stored in his head, and knows everything about everything, especially when it comes to magic and history. she also really likes his bara tiddies.

6. Do they have any hobbies that their lover finds unusual, odd, or otherwise annoying?

hmm good one. miraak has a hard time finding hobbies once back in tamriel but after a few years he settles in more, and actually gets into composing music and drawing. he’s very private about what he draws, but will often share music with her or ask for opinions.

tharya’s hobbies almost always include making things; she likes to whittle or build stuff, enchant things, or tend a garden. so i guess no, they don’t really annoy each other with hobbies!

11. What is something that would make your character fly into a rage?

miraak is laughably easy to aggravate, but to make him fly into a rage you’d probably have to insult tharya directly—bonus points if it’s something he knows she’s insecure about. also try to talk down to him, see how it goes. talk shit about atmora? you’re done. mention hermaeus mora within a 50 mile radius of him? he’ll know, and he’ll kill you on sight.

tharya is much, much harder to irritate. she’s very easy-going and laid-back. unlike miraak, who goes off the hook the first time, it would take repeated incidents to make her angry. repeated insults, repeated failures, repeated betrayals will all make her pretty upset.

17. Does your character have dreams of getting married and/or having children?

oooh. miraak, yes. miraak wants nothing more than to have kids of his own. marriage he could go either way—it would be nice, but he prioritizes kids. unfortunately as a priest he was made sterile, and it continues to haunt him.

tharya, less so. she hasn’t ever considered marriage or kids as an option for herself simply because...she’s not your standard woman. pregnancy scares her, too, and she doesn’t feel like she’d be a good parent (which is probably true.) she feels bad about it because miraak makes it pretty damn clear he’d have kids if he was able, but she also knows he wouldn’t force her into doing so, and she doesn’t want kids.

28. If your character became a celebrity, what would they be famous for?

i’m gonna take this from the modern au that’s been lurking in my head for months now: miraak & the solstheim priests create a musical group. since they’re all hot dudes with great voices they become popular really fast. i wouldn’t count out miraak being a male model either tbh.

tharya is less likely to be famous simply because she doesn’t have “big industry” talents, but if she were to become a celebrity, it would probably be because she’s a huge activist on climate change (kinda like greta thurnberg) and has a really nice travel blog.

39. When people look at your character, is there some assumption they might make about them just by appearance? Is that assumption correct?

a lot of people assume miraak is tharya’s huge, callous, silent, scary, war veteran bodyguard before they think he’s the first dragonborn. though he isn’t a war veteran, he definitely has the look of one. miraak just gives off a strange aura that steers people away from him; and he is huge and scary and somewhat of a bodyguard, and he never speaks, so most people are correct.

let’s assume people don’t know tharya is the dragonborn for a sec. a lot of people would write her off because she’s kinda small, just your average looking nord woman and doesn’t look like she commands a lot of power. and since she’s a mage that would probably drag her credit further. so a lot of people would be wrong about her.

48. Is there anything in particular that would ignite your character’s jealousy? Or does your character not get envious?

miraak gets jealous almost as easily as he gets angry, however, like his anger, his jealousy has stages ranging from harmless, mild, annoying, and severe. he’s an attention whore specifically only for tharya’s attention, so take that away from him for a long time and he’ll be bitchy. other people flirting with her or being grabby makes him both angry and jealous.

tharya, like we said before, is super laid back, and a people person; she can read the room and body language really well. she knows when idiots are flirting with her and politely removes herself, but that doesn’t stop miraak from seething across the room. it takes a lot for her to get actually jealous, if she ever does.

You've been visited by the random OC question fairy! :D ~☆

Is your character concerned with becoming a better person? Do they consciously take steps to improve themselves? Why or why not?

ah thank you for this!! i was so excited to see it in my inbox 👀

for now i'll stick to my skyrim peeps since i've written them most recently.

for tharya (my nord ldb) who has good morals but can definitely diverge from them occasionally and knowingly, being a good person is all she has ever tried to be - however, being a better person is exceedingly difficult. she often already puts herself at risk for others and takes care of people before herself, she's not a very selfish/self-focused person, so being "better" in her mind would be being better for other people, which in turn may actually be destructive for her. she's kind of like an endless uphill trend but never reaching the goal.

for miraak, simple answer no. to be fair he's already changed A LOT from who he used to be, both out of necessity and driven by his surroundings. he knows he isn't "morally good and pure" like tharya, and he doesn't care. he's done his changing to adapt to life post-apocrypha, and he very much hits a plateau after a long period of dramatic growth that he doesn't really grow or decline from afterwards.

thank you for the ask!

I still obsess over your tharya x miraak fanfics and the speedpaint I made for it

BRO THANK YOU SO MUCH😭😭😭💖💖💖 genuinely i know i say it every time but....it does baffle me how lovely people are about tharyaak, and i feel so so lucky (and EXCITED) to have such awesome comments and support 🥺 thank you SO much!

IF YOU ARE THE PERSON I THINK YOU ARE, omg if you still have it could you send the speedpaint to me? i've been actually tearing apart my discord to find it recently...i could've sworn i had it saved but who knows what the servers of time have gobbled up. i'll keep looking tho! and again thank you so so much for the art, literally nothing makes me happier than people making ART of THEM! i've always wished i could draw so i could show others how i visualize them but alas 😭 not for me

a tharya addition (partially for @kiir-do-faal-rahhe hehe) ((cw: alcoholism, and ED))

tharya's body has changed a bit over the years (both irl years, and years in-fic) on par w miraak, i think, who was essentially locked in bodily stasis in apocrypha. she's a very average normal weight and body type, but the war and alcoholism changed her. she basically starved almost to death during the civil war, lost a TON of body fat and weight, and it was hard to regain - esp when she was traveling a ton, not settled, eating only what she had and never carrying surplus. for that reason the civil war has changed her body and how it stores fat; her weight fluctuates quite easily (which worries miraak) but six years after the war she IS healthy. she's healthy and gained good weight and is eating well :^) but still the mental and physical repercussions of starving in fort snowhawk and almost freezing to death i think will stick with her forever, and it changed her physically.

it helps because miraak eats a lot (which he is very self conscious of, except around her), so she had to feed herself and also him well enough as opposed to living off the bare minimum. i like to think her legs and stomach (she has more lower body strength than upper) are a lot more healthy looking and full and strong now that she's safe from the war and largely sworn off drinking, and she's getting some more weight in her Boobs which, as CEO of the itbc, makes her a little happy🥳.

wip wednesday but not

when i first started writing miraak i kinda gave him a thicc gym boy build. hefty but with abs and all.

now that i've seen the light (and he's been out of apocrypha for 5 yrs, his body has finally changed for the first time in 5000 yrs) i've been giving him a powerlifter build with thick arms/shoulders and TITS and a strong but softer torso. somehow it just genuinely fits him so much better (though it's not like anyone could tell in my writing how different it is) in this way he still occupies a large amount of space and is very physically intimidating, but when he's relaxed he's comfy to hold or snuggle, and when he holds people they get the bonus of his strength and relaxed softness. and i think tharya who really enjoys hugging/holding his waist (which is NOT tiny, this man is a rectangle) bc his shoulders are usually too high would enjoy the little ability to squeeze :3

(his butt is still big and perfect. it will never change, nor will his thighs, which are also big and perfect and strong and)

a lil oneshot for the ides of march! (not actually i wrote this like...4 days ago) a writethrough of skyrim's opening scene centering my LDB. here's the ao3 description:

On a sweltering summer morning in 4E 201, Tharya of Whiterun is a prisoner of the Empire in the back of a rickety wooden wagon rumbling towards Helgen, where she, the horse thief, and the Stormcloaks captured with her are set to be executed at 10 A.M. Terrified of her fate, Tharya begs the Imperials to let her go free, especially so close to her home city and family. In the face of Tullius' clamor to win the war, Tharya does die that day - just as she will die every four thousand years when she returns to defeat Alduin, riding the sways of Time until the Wheel churns her out again to face the World-Eater til the end of eternity.

some wip wednesday!

just wanted to share some of the skyrim project i'm working on :3 hoping to start posting in april (or at least put ch1 up before my ao3 draft dies lmao). open tag for anyone who wants to join, but here are some folks i know may have WIPs of any kind:

@kiir-do-faal-rahhe @helix-studios117 @nuwanders

Suddenly Miraak was below her on the ground, his eyes widening and the stench of fear flooding through his pores as he called her name; he was so distant, so slow. Her saliva slathered over her chin and dripped onto his neck, onto his pulse, quick and warm. She felt dirt push under her nails as she dug her hands into the soft ground on either side of his head - somehow his arm had detached from her, she felt it slip away as her back began to bend and crawl and her skin moved and bubbled and trembled, stretching so thin it turned white, and then a murky brown-grey. 

"Tharya," Miraak whispered, struggling for breath as her face twisted and snarled just above him, as her teeth lengthened and sharpened. "I'm here, elskavin. Don't. I'm here. Your family-" she screamed at him as he spoke, a scream that had a thousand different sounds behind it, augmented chords that pulled and plucked her voice into a gargling roar, and then a guttural howl.

last line tag

OP did NOT tag me (@pitiable-arisen) but i wanted to do it anyway :3 i've been getting close to finishing the last chapter of my new fic and wrote some miraak bangers (as usual, he always gets my best lines, sorry tharya)

“Good heroes do not exist.” Lofrek jumped a little at those words, surprised by their force and clarity since Miraak had been murmuring his sentences until now. But he said it so staunchly, so fully, that Lofrek couldn’t help but peer up at him. He would have to get used to that gaze if he wanted to make any of this work in the years they would inevitably be around each other. “They are only people whose shortcomings are weighted less when faced with the grandiosity of their accomplishments. Your sister tries to be something that does not exist, and cannot be attained - she knows this. It makes her better, but it destroys her.”

tagging anyone and everyone who wants to share! @kiir-do-faal-rahhe @nusaran @evil-is-relative @elventhief

IT'S UP!!!!!!! description from ao3:

“You are a beast, Tharya Stormhand. Dragonborn, soldier, werewolf - all beasts of different titles, but beasts nonetheless. You have never been anything more. You will never be anything better. Isn’t that why you gave your soul to me?”

Last Seed, 4E 208. Almost a full year since the events of Revenant, the Dragonborn - and their burgeoning family - have found home in Whiterun, with work and adventure to keep them happily busy. When the summer nights grow watchful and the moons deadly, Tharya finds herself at the center of the Wild Hunt, desperately outrunning a secret that has both plagued and formed her life and relationships for the past eleven years. Unwilling to let her long years of evasion go unpunished, the Daedric Prince Hircine gives chase, and the Hunt begins.

i like dropping little tidbits about upcoming fics as if i'm a huge name brand movie studio dropping tiny crumbs of information to goad people so they freak tf out when the full thing drops 😌

guess who FINALLY got bg3 for xbox and guess who started playing, immediately made tharya/miraak, and has been thinking nonstop of a BG3 AU for both. expect writing soon

silly me i forgor to include pics 🤪🤪 (i remade them 3 times so i forgot to put tharya's scar BUT i will as soon as i go back to her save)

guess who FINALLY got bg3 for xbox and guess who started playing, immediately made tharya/miraak, and has been thinking nonstop of a BG3 AU for both. expect writing soon

MORE PICS? yes. this time including my actual BG3 character zefirith (zef)! tiefling monk :3 i love her a lot. i am in the works of coming up w a backstory for her one human eye

what i both love and hate abt tharyaak in BG3 is that they look SO FUCKING GOOD and yet the tiny details are off. tharya's face isn't that long (nor are her eyebrows so perfect lmfao), it's just a bit shorter and a tiny bit rounder. miraak's hair isn't swept back like that ever, he's always got a little bit hanging over the side of his forehead, his hair naturally falls a bit forward because of it's part. BUT IT'S OKAY. THIS IS THE CLOSEST I'VE EVER BEEN TO SEEING THEM CORRECTLY so yes they will be used as references and i do still love them incredibly

guess who FINALLY got bg3 for xbox and guess who started playing, immediately made tharya/miraak, and has been thinking nonstop of a BG3 AU for both. expect writing soon

DID IT LET'S GOOO!!!! im excited for this week of sick prompts‼️ @tes-summer-fest

i PROMISE i am here for tesfest but i literally forgot it started yesterday!!! will be writing/posting day 1 soon :3

tesfest day 6: mirror

hello all!!! i haven't been posting these on tumblr but i really enjoyed writing this one, so i figured why not 😎 maybe i'll post the rest after tesfest is done! otherwise they are all on my ao3 :3

This time, when he walked by the tall, slender mirror in their bedroom, he actually stopped.

He avoided mirrors if he could, rarely ever checked himself prior to going anywhere or doing anything. If Tharya complimented him on their way out, then he knew he'd done fine. But he hated it, his own stupidity with these things. It was utterly trivial. In Apocrypha he had moaned and wept and prayed for a mirror to remember his face by, anything to grant him his reflection that he had forgotten. And now that he walked so freely amongst mirrors large and small, he disliked them.

But he made himself stand in front of this one. One of the great joys of his mornings was watching from bed as Tharya got ready in front of this mirror. One of his great joys in the evening was watching her undress and step into her sleeping clothes, watching her inspect herself in this mirror. She did it so easily. It was foolish of him to run from his own reflection like a scared deer. He forced his gaze to his own body, the vessel he so often felt...unnattached from. The thing he had lost sight of in Apocrypha as well, not for lack of a reflection, but for lack of its preservation. Hermaeus Mora had ravaged his skin and bones countless times, torn him, knit him together, touched him, split him, crushed him.

Yet the mirror showed his body as whole. How strange. It was...different than he thought he remembered from the Merethic Era. He'd been a bit thinner then, the muscles in his stomach more prominent. Now his midriff was cushioned by a healthy layer of fat, though he was sure if he tensed, it would all go rigid. The muscle had not vanished, just changed shape. His chest had perhaps been a bit smaller, his arms not as big. He could heard Morokei's voice in the back of his mind, a fleeting memory from his childhood, at the point where Miraak had learned that if he would never be taller than his peers, he would have to be stronger. Aelskling, you've gotten bigger! He thought those words and found himself...brightened by their presence. He was sure Morokei would say the same now - in the Merethic Era he had been strong, but less hulking, less dense.

His legs had never been so thick either, but as he examined them they were nicely proportionate to the rest of him. Faint stretch marks decorated his inner thighs. Softer at rest, a good cushion for the woman who so often occupied his lap. And...quite long. Had they always been like that? He supposed it made sense because of his height. Atmorans were a long-limbed people. Still, he peered at them in the mirror, dressed in only his smallclothes and with tight concentration behind his eyes. Both Tharya and Bhijirio had remarked before that he looked taller the less clothes he wore. He didn't know how that happened, but it seemed a fair statement. Here, now, the optical illusion of wearing less did seem to make him...a bit bigger than he thought he was.

Hesitantly he lifted one arm, curled it, and watched his bicep contract, bulging against his forearm before he stretched the arm out. Thick veins decorated the hinge of his shoulder and shot down into his arm. Veins that carried real blood, not the sludge of Apocrypha. Strange. He put the arm down to twist it, examining his tricep and elbow in the mirror. All strangely mundane parts of the body, yet he couldn't help as if he'd never seen them before. Holding his arm like this made it press into his chest, creasing his pectorals together and disfiguring the long scar slashing over them. Warily he held his chest in both hands, trying to emulate the sensation of the way Tharya did it. No, that was ridiculous. He didn't need to grope himself just for- for research.

But that scar...as he traced it, the open-mouthed concentration in his face settled into grim deliberation. That scar had almost torn his heart out. Almost ruptured his lungs and ripped through his ribs. He was lucky his healers had grabbed him when they did, otherwise he would have surely lost his life to Paarthurnax that day. The old worm had left him to bleed out in the lush foothill they fought upon. Perhaps he had known it was the crux of his Thu'um, its home nestled to his heart between his ribs. Perhaps he had merely been living up to his name.

Silently he let his hand slip up to the base of his neck, but immediately it felt itchy just sitting there. He didn't like things around his throat. He wore his necklaces loose and low because of it. He let Tharya touch his neck, but she never held it in the way he did hers. A pang of guilt slithered into his gut at that. That didn't seem fair.

He stepped a bit closer to the mirror and bent down to examine his face closely in the reflective silver. It was difficult, but he felt he must. Carefully he took in his eyes and nose, his undefined cheekbones. The neat edge of his beard. Absently he ran his fingers through it - soft, trimmed, and oiled. Little things. He thanked the gods he'd been blessed with the ability to grow one so fully. Vahlok always used to have a little stubborn patch below his chin that refused to grow. The memory made him smile however faintly, chuckling to himself, but he zeroed in as quickly as possible to catch the expression before it faded. Gods. What a dreary sight. He remembered smiling with his teeth once upon a time, laughing freely. Did he always look so...bland? Poor Tharya.

He ran a hand through his dark hair, ruffling it a bit to let it fall looser. He didn't have Althëa's curls, but his hair had little waves in its inner layers that sometimes curled if he let it grow long enough. It, like his beard, was one of the very few things about his appearance he truly cared about. More for habit than any real love of his own visage. Humming curiously, he decided to comb his hair back with his fingers, pushing away the little pieces that usually framed his forehead. He wanted to know why Tharya always said he looked so different with his hair swept back.

The change was small, but very noticeable. Even removing those few strands seemed to...open his features more. He realized she was absolutely right - it did look good. As he straightened out and examined himself in the mirror again, he hardly recognized his own face. It all seemed to flow differently.

His concentration was broken by the door coming open, but, in a brief panic, his feet remained rooted to the spot. Gods, he would look like an idiot standing here. No one did such foolish things unless they were daft in the head. He found himself warming with - what was that? Shame? The guilt of being caught? - as Tharya stepped in, still dressed from the day.

"Hi, beautiful," she said easily, smiling at him. Heat creeped into his neck. Gods, how many thousands of years since he'd blushed? He almost wanted to laugh at himself. Almost. "What are you up to?"

"Nothing," he said quickly. "I am...I had a bath."

"That's exactly what I'm about to do," she snickered, joining him to put her hands on his hips. She squeezed him lovingly, and he noticed for the first time how that little extra bit of fat that he hadn't had before pooled into her palms so perfectly. "You look spooked." Her hands traversed his body so easily, drawing up his arms, rounding his shoulders and settling on his chest. He had admitted to her before she seemed to know his body better than he did, and it was true. She knew the strongest parts of him, and she knew the softest. She knew where to touch him to make him crumble into her palms and where exactly to touch him to inflate him, to make him stand straight. She knew how to hug him to make him feel the thousands of eyes on his back retreat. She knew how to stroke his hair and trace his face to tease him into sleeping. She knew the places on his body that had never healed completely in Tel Mithryn, and she knew which scars he still felt the most, and which she could kiss. "Everything okay?"

He blinked at her and then merely nodded, feeling dazed at how many things she knew of him, how he could so easily list them. He liked to think he returned it, but she had a certain intimate knowledge of his body that he simply could not have with hers. She had been the one to take care of him for so long, after all. It only made sense. He glanced in the mirror again - if she knew him so well, then there was only one question his curiosity begged to ask.

Wordlessly he held her hips and turned her around, watching her peer at him in the mirror.

"Tell me what you see," he whispered. "Please."

wip wednesday‼️

was inspired by @hircines-hunter to post something for wip wednesday😎 i'm taking a little break after finishing TWH, but this project (dubbed "the morthal minific") is super fun and i've been working on it slowly!! anyone who wants to do a wip wednesday, consider yourself tagged!

“Get back!” Tharya barked, grabbing her spear and swinging its bright tip out at the faces. They gasped as they dissolved under the golden glow, shocked and confused. Some reached out for her as if begging, but vanished as she cut through their hold. The boat rocked dangerously as she and Bhijirio tried to balance their weight out, twisting around to watch the creatures retreat back into the fog. Bhijirio whimpered as he knelt, clutching at his stomach and looking gaunt. 

“I fucking hate this place,” he wheezed, taking in shoddy breaths. Frowning, Tharya scooted a bit closer to offer her hand for him to hold. He snatched it up, squeezing her knuckles to the bone.

"It was always like this, but...it got worse after the Civil War," she said in a soft voice, dampened by the humidity on all sides. "Plenty of soldiers lost their lives in this marsh. Hundreds. It hasn't been the same since then, it's a more...more malicious place. I try to avoid it," she whispered, shivering. “The marsh is almost...living.”

wip wednesday!

it is definitely still wednesday. it is not friday. tagged by my beloved @kiir-do-faal-rahhe and i'll tag @elventhief @nusaran @nuwanders @hircines-hunter and anyone who wants to do it!! ((you can wait til next wednesday if you want LMFAO))

this blurb is from a tiny oneshot in the atmora au, so enjoy long haired, 6'4" tharya😎

"Her hair is braided," Dukaan mused as the pair spun through his line of sight again.

"Is it his?"

"I think so." He recognized Miraak's handiwork because he himself had worn it once or twice. The First Mage preferred flatter strands, nothing so loose or tightly portioned as some others but something fashioned to display its natural beauty. Her braid started low, or at least it appeared to, but sheaves of hair at the back of her head were layered so minutely and so loosely it was impossible to see. And it glittered. The braid itself was a five-strand, quite impressive for a woman Dukaan and Zahkriisos had not met nor heard Miraak speak of before tonight. There were smaller braids barely the width of Dukaan's pinky interwoven as well, creating an altogether new pattern that swayed gently downwards. Small gemstones littered her hair, catching and gleaming in the light, and she wore what looked like blue snowlilies tucked into pieces of the braid. It looked like at least two hours of work.

Pygmalion and Galatea (1763) by Étienne Maurice Falconet Paul and Virginia (1844) by Alessandro Puttinati Worship of the Female Form (early 20th century) by Alméry Lobel-Riche Kneeling man embracing a standing woman (1908) by Gustav Vigeland In Paradise (1918) by Max Svabinsky Thief of the Moon (1924) by Norman Lindsay