#ow ow ow ow no it feels good prommy ow ow ow ow

[narutomaki]

wanna get fucked but I have chronic pain localized to my lower half

[crescent-cubed]

Roses are red,

They also hurt

Ow fuck

That's a lot of blood

You feeling alright Crescent old pal?

LMAO

Ye I'm good, I prommy!

My brain is simply a fan of justified fury and related imagery in general :3

[da3drat]

Okay this is silly but i keep seeing people post their fic with a link to ao3 but also in the text of the post, and somehow that had never occurred to me. So. i'm doing that. Last repost of this fic i prommy lol.

Palla, Pygmalion, Meridian

In which the Nerevarine discovers complicated feelings regarding the one woman on all of Nirn she should be avoiding at all costs.

The long, long walk to Ebonheart had left Meridian exhausted and irritable. Arriving in town well after the sun had set, she had been in no mood to track down transport to Mournhold and had taken a room at the inn instead. This had been a mistake. Not two hours later she had awoken just in time to dodge a dagger arcing toward her throat. The scuffle with the Dark Brotherhood assassin had been loud and bloody, and she had been promptly asked to leave.

Now, as she shivered and stewed outside the Six Fishes, she figured her only course was to head straight to Mournhold and give those gods damned assassins a piece of her mind. If she was feeling particularly contrary on arrival she may even demand compensation for all the cleaning fees she'd owed after dispatching her would be murderers.

She stalked through the freezing night air and considered that this Asciene Rane who was meant to provide her transport would likely be asleep at this hour. Had Meri been in a less foul mood she may have considered camping outside the city until the sun had risen, but as it was she had no qualms about finding this woman, waking her, and insisting upon teleportation that exact minute. It was lucky for Asciene then that she was tucked away in a locked bedroom and would not be found by anyone until she awoke at dawn. It was not lucky for Meri, whose lack of sleep and growing impatience grated on her by the minute. When the two finally met in the Grand Council chambers one glowed from a good night's sleep and hearty breakfast, while the other could have been mistaken for a scrawny, ill-tempered spriggan from a distance.

All the same, Meri was a fine actor and put on a relieved smile as she closed the distance to Asciene.

"Oh, I've been searching for you all morning! I need passage to the mainland and was told you could help me, it's a bit of an emergency."

Asciene gave her a suspicious look, and Meri took the cue to up the pathetic fawning.

"The Dark Brotherhood is hunting me," She said in a sorrowful voice. "Even last night at the inn I was attacked, and in my sleep no less. Please, my only chance is to get help in Mournhold."

"The Dark Brotherhood?" Asciene's eyes widened. "Oh, Matius told me you may be by. Poor thing. Yes, I can get you to Mournhold, but you're likely to be even less safe there than here."

The corner of Meri's lips quirked upward involuntarily at being called "poor thing", but she did her best to cover it by giving her a thankful smile.

"It's the only chance I have," She reiterated. "Thank you so much for helping me."

"I can send you now if you're ready. Talk to the argonian Effe-Tei if you need to come back."

"Yes, I'm ready. Thank you."

Asciene put a hand on Meri's shoulder and she closed her eyes, soon feeling the pins and needles sensation of teleportation. When she reopened them she fell lithely out of the air and into the Mournhold Palace's reception area.

Scowl returned and mockingly muttering "poor thing" under her breath Meri marched out into the courtyard without bothering to take in her surroundings. The 'City of Light' did not interest her- she had eyes only for the good night's sleep that awaited her at the end of her quest. She caught the arm of a guard and managed to get some information out of him; if she was looking for the Dark Brotherhood she should investigate the Bazaar sewers. Simple enough.

Meri rolled her eyes as she made her way through Mournhold Plaza, of course the den of assassins was set up in the sewers. It felt cliche to the point of poor planning, shouldn't they at least have a codelocked safehouse? Though maybe she should take it as a warning, if they were that blatant it was because they felt safe. Her mind drifted to a checklist of pre-expedition errands as she walked, but she didn't make it far before she felt a prickle on the back of her neck that made her hair stand on end. Was she being watched? She slowed to a stop and turned, scanning the plaza for the source of her discomfort. Her eyes landed on the large ceremonial statue in the center of the square and a shudder crawled up her spine, her feet suddenly glued to the ground. Almalexia's masked gaze seemed to pass through her vanquished foe and onto Meri- and it pinned her in place like a startled deer.

She was suddenly aware of how little she had considered the Tribunal since arriving on Vvardenfell.

The Three had always stayed at the periphery of her thoughts, never breaking through the daily focus of travel or investigation. Too many nights she had collapsed into a fighters guild cot and been sucked into sleep before she could recount the events of the day, much less think ahead to the future. But now the statue made her wonder. She wondered what kind of people - what kind of gods - they were. If she was the Nerevarine, would they know her? Would she know them? What were their stories? Their teachings? She knew nothing. She had learned the proper way to make friends with the ashlanders, to predict cliff racer attacks, even memorized the alchemical properties of near every ingredient in Morrowind, but she knew nothing of its gods. Mostly, consumingly, she wondered about the color of Almalexia's eyes.

She had considered the Tribunal very little, but faced with the visage of Almalexia in her war mask she now found herself unable to consider anything else. She approached the statue slowly, resisting the urge to reach out and touch with a greedy hand. It depicted Almalexia locked in a moment of victory over Mehrunes Dagon, her blade plunged through his abdomen as he recoiled in horror. Even in stone, the instability of the moment was evident. Long claw marks along Almalexia's side, her stance powerful yet faltering, but it was Dagon's face that was twisted in shock and agony.

Etched in stone and larger than life, Almalexia looked every bit a god.

An old, old ache awoke in Meri then. One she had squashed so many times in so many ways, only for it to return tenfold in it's own time. She wondered if Almalexia would abandon the people of Morrowind the way Meri's gods had abandoned her. No. No, she could see it even in the statue. Dedication, love, divinity, power. A living god, one you could see and touch, whose loving hand you could feel in the flesh. Desire and curiosity bloomed in her chest in equal measure, taking her beyond wonder and dangerously close to tunnel vision. She needed to find a book, a priest, anything that could tell her about the goddess in the statue.

Somewhere in her a small voice of reason tried to draw her away. It insisted that whatever she felt now was dangerous, that following it would end in tears if she were lucky and blood if she wasn't. But Meridian had never been a woman of reason, nor was she particularly fearful of her blood being shed. And the voice was not loud enough to distract her from the expertly carved coils of hair that fell loosely around the slope of Almalexia's neck, nor the defined musculature of her arms. She pulled her journal and charcoals from her backpack; her hands were itching with inspiration and she was not one to deny them. She would sit and sketch as long as she was able and then she would be off to find an inn, a temple, and a bookshop.

The Dark Brotherhood, she decided, would have to wait one more day.

[boundlesshart]

the billy o’ tea

soon may @allegreta @vaida​ come to bring us sugar and tea and rum

The wind blows strong this evening, and the True North’s sails swell as the ship carries on through the waters. Claude sets his sights on the waves below him, the rolling clouds above him, anything that proves actual movement and progress. If only they could travel by wyvern... the excitement he held for sea travel as a kid dried up when he sailed from Tadmur to Derdriu, stuck under the decks ‘for his protection’. The brisk, salty air calms him somewhat, but he wishes for the skies all the same.

Dinner is bland but Claude chokes it down anyways, taking small sips of water in between bites of salty cod and hardtack. The Egg, nestled in linen, sits securely in his lap. Leanne told Claude that it was hungry before they set sail, but through all of his experimentation with different food and surroundings, he hasn’t seen anything yet...

It’s just an egg. And yet...

Conversation with Kai-Marik and Cameron doesn’t go anywhere fast. His question regarding the captain receives an unsatisfactory reply—that they would meet her in the New World, whatever that means to those two. Kai-Marik’s distrust is met with a bit of his own, but Cameron thankfully turns the conversation back to the Egg.

Cameron hops up to Claude, smiling. "Don't worry 'bout party pooper o'er there! He'll warm up eventually. Maybe. Near death experience or two and we'll all be the tightest o' buds, prommy!" That is how it usually works, right? They lean in for a closer look at the egg. "Mmm... Wotcha got there?~"

“Just an egg,” Claude answers. Actually, considering Cameron is a native here... “Since I'm not from here, I have no clue who laid it... Any wisdom to share?”

Cameron giggles, looking at the egg closer, humming to themselves in thought.

"Maybe Kai-Marik did. It'd explain his sourpuss attitude, don't you think?" 

Kai-Marik about chokes on the drink he'd just taken from a small flask. Wipes his mouth before turning over with a faint glare. "Where'd you get the thing anyhow?" he questions, brow quirked.

Claude would never turn his nose up at a joke at Kai-Marik’s expense, and he laughs along with Cameron as the other man splutters. "Oh, I just found it lying around. Not in a nest or anything. I have some fond memories of hatching eggs, so..."

Kai-Marik squints, quite clearly suspicious, but doesn't say anything more at present. Cameron, meanwhile, stoops and coos at the egg. "Lying around... how lucky! I bet it hatches into a cute lil snuggly critter." They reach a hand out, but look up for permission. "Can I touch it?"

“Sure!” Claude pulls away at some of the cloth, revealing more of the Egg. This would be a good experience, right? Meeting new people... but what is he saying, this is just an egg, right? "Sure! Actually, back home, when eggs were close to hatching, we would rub against the shells to encourage them to hatch. Hatchlings making their way out of the nest would brush their scales against nearby eggs, and that would signal that it's ok to come out."

Cameron lights up, absolutely delighted with the information. "How cuuuuute! That would be so fun to see..." 

 They slowly, carefully stroke the egg until-- "Ow!" (Kai-Marik's head whips around to see.) 

 Cameron frowns. Looks at their hand. Nothing there. "It felt like it bit me... Weird." But it's just an egg.

...”Like it bit you,” Claude repeats. Alarm makes his heart race, but he has no idea what to make of it. The shell isn’t sharp, right? He runs his hand against the shell again, feeling subtle movement but no ‘bite.’ How can it bite outside of its shell? Wait, but was it even the creature in the egg?

Claude sighs, patting it one last time before he pulls the cloth over the egg again, focusing on Cameron. "I can heal your hand, if you'd like?" Not like he really knows what the hell happened, but they seemed genuinely hurt. "If nothing else, it'd help with the pain."

[belphesnore]

You don't owe anyone a calm conversation, especially not if they're trying to start an argument. For what it's worth, you've never come across as aggressive without reason in my opinion. You actually seem pretty cool and I love seeing you posts show up on my dash :)

THANK YOU, i fr don't think anon understands that so much of my aggression goes towards anons (because when is it NOT on anon) who decide to poke the bear, or folks who just decide to straight up lie about/grossly misinterpret the points i'm trying to make. like, if you scroll through my blog you will see months at a time where i'm just calmly talking to people w 0 issues, like............. lashing out at anons is not a commonplace thing at all. honestly, i try my best to come off as approachable and nice and supportive of the creators i DO think are worth the recognition, who are wonderful and create brilliant content!! because in the end that's what this blog was made for, and should at least balance the bullshit i get myself into, and I really value the people who do see that and stay for the content/my humor/my art. BUT, that doesn't mean i'm just going to accept the few that keep dragging up months old bullshit, like the loganthrives trash anon from earlier, and i am going to verbalize in a definitive and memorable way that i'm not even remotely going to entertain that shit.

THE OTHER THING IS: I USUALLY RESERVE THE CIVIL CONVERSATIONS FOR DMS (gasp). izzy belphesnore? a private and respectful person when they're treated with respect and good faith counterpoints off anon? that the public DOESN'T hear abt bc it's not their business and i don't need/want the "good person points" for having a civil resolution??? like, in the case of Big Issues, very pointedly public resolution always feels deeply disingenuous imo. it's easy to lie through your teeth and roll over and apologize to appease followers, but it becomes about the people watching and the perception of you instead of the actual issue at hand. In DMs, there's nobody but the other party to perform for, which, for me, usually means no performance - getting to the meat of the issue and working it through, as much as the other person is equally as willing to. unheard of. impossible. #notmybelphesnore (HUGE /S in case that wasn't made super clear).

tdlr im nice i prommy and i rly appreciate the folks here who actually acknowledge that and give me the props i deserve <3 (YOU!!!!!!)

[neptunebeetle]

Life feels so much better when you mentally make the effort to stop caring. Force yourself to smile when you see people enjoying themselves and think to yourself “It’s good that they’re happy. I’m happy they’re enjoying themselves.” It literally waters your brain I’m serious. Put that anger where it actually counts, and simultaneously reinforce as much positivity as you possibly can. Wash over yourself with love for all the creatures on this bitch. You do not owe everyone love but you owe it to yourself to stop caring about the harmless shit other people are doing. It feels refreshing. It feels so much better I prommy