#topsy rambles

[thana-topsy]

It's so funny seeing the ratio difference on the scant BG3 art I've posted versus my TES stuff.

Like, yeah sure the numbers are wild and I do absolutely love that vampire, but I get so much more of a kick out of seeing my little TES freaks reblog my art and add their little comments and tags even if it's only 35 of you compared to 500 strangers.

I absolutely love BG3 as a game and am nowhere near done playing it, but I think I find more joy in creating things for TES.

Anyways, sound off little TES freaks I love each and every one of you and I always look at all the tags when people reblog things I've shared.

[imabiscuitinthousandworlds]

climbing is sooo funny when you're not scared of heights but very much scared of falling. and then people will try to comfort you with "it's not hight" it's all thick mattresses" (boulders) and "that rope is secure" "i'll hold onto it as well" (climbing) and "i swear nothing will happen to you" like. i know that. i trust my climbing buddy with my life. i've fallen or jumped onto those mats plenty of times. i'm not scared of going crack or splat though i'm scared of falling. hitting the ground is entirely irrelevant in this situation. i couldn't care less if i was to go splat or break a knee. it's the Fall. the bloody Fall. and with funny i mean annoying as fuck and it's putting me wayyyy behind (along with a general lack of training these days sadly)

[exopelagic]

i said i wouldn’t do it this time but it’s 3am and mods asleep. boy

[arkhmlcst]

no one ever gives HER an extra extra large weiner deluxe from pauli's...

[goldensunset]

@imminent-danger-came this is the funniest thing anyone’s said to me in a while; thank you so much

[galaxy-sundae]

Alright Guys, Hear me Out

It's this theory I had for a while. By for a while, I mean like a year or so ago.

Anyways, the theory is that Yoshi Topsy Turvy originated by two different game concepts that have been merged together.

Game 1 was about Yoshi but Game 2 was (most likely) about something else entirely. The Spirits still played huge roles/had the same roles as they did in Yoshi Topsy Turvy.

The only piece of evidence I have for this theory would be the two enemies that only showed up in Yoshi Topsy Turvy: Igarashi-Kun and Daruma Otoshi-kun. Perhaps they were originally going to appear in Game 2 before becoming enemies for Yoshi. The same thing can be applied to the gravity mechanic and the gimmicks that came with it in the now merged game.

These are just some thoughts of mine I had for some time.

[kindaorangey]

that episode was insane (<- hasn't seen the full episode)

[buginateacup]

MASSIVE SPOILERS FOR TEA WITH TOPSY AHEAD!!!!

I had a shower ramble about the past, present and future of all the little satellite plots Topsy has swirling around to try and work out who and what and why is happening next

Hokay so!

In the beginning there were random fires cropping up around Metro City. This was because the Mayor had been paying someone to pay kids and randoms in firecrackers to set fire to hedges and post boxes in the hopes of driving down property prices. This was because he had hatched a plan with his old frat buddy Charles Mclaren and his company Dexcore to buy up dodgy properties and convert them into gentrified homes for young professionals (working class who? never heard of them). He has plans for this city, big plans.

One day way back in chapter 4 (ish?), Metro Man hurled some bombs Megamind had planted around the city into the lake. This knocked loose some of the plastic wrapped cubes Megamind held down there for people he waanted permanently out of the way but didn't want to directly kill for whatever reason (mostly for punishment reasons, also probably an alien thing, bones of your enemies laid in the deep etc etc).

One of those cubes was The Conductor.

The Conductor, thanks to several years as a cube, had some funky shit happning with his powers now and teamed up with the Mayor while he was still half out of it. The Mayor now has a pocket pyro for his gentrification plan and The Conductor is figuring out his brand new fire powers hile imagining Megamind burning under his hands. Y'know, normal response.

The Mayor is surprisingly fine with this.

That's because the Mayor's plans also extend to getting some of that sweet, sweet Defender's Council money that the MetroMegaRox combination has locked him out of. Naturally he considers Roxanne the thin edge of the wedge, if they can just get rid of her, Metro City can have a brand new Defender's Council Approved Damsel, complete with sponsorship deals and merchandise. If the Coductor manages to knock off Megamind as well, even better! A supervillain in his pocket and a new damsel on the ropes and surely at that point Metro Man will agree to some of the Defender's Council merchandising deals.

The Mayor spends a lot of time dreaming in dollar signs.

So plan one, blow Megamind and Roxanne up, that doesn't go as planned, oh well, onto the next one. Calling up another of his old frat buddies in the form of Jonathan Chisolm. Max gets promoted and here's the new boss, much worse than the old boss.

Jonathan has one job, find a reason to fire Roxanne Ritchi (he's probably also getting property tips).

Unfortunately for him, Roxanne is EXCEEDINGLY good at her job, and thanks to her status as an unofficial damsel, he can't really rely on uprofessional behaviour as an excuse.

Roxanne gets Charles McLaren arrested. She's also mid panic attack over realisng her feelings for Megamind so this takes something of a back seat.

A short while later she gets Delic arrested as well.

Delic and Mclaren wind up in the same cellblock. Mclaren thinks he's found a friend. Delic knows he's found a meal ticket. (Delic is also very carefully considering his next move seeing as Megamind can't actually touch him while he's in jail, he's being very smug about that).

While Delic and Mclaren are being cell block buddies, The Conductor is also starting to make a plan of his own. He's not interested in gentrification or money, he just wants to make sure Megamind and he has ever built or cared for burns to ash. And it turns out all those dexcore buildings burn so easily, and there are so many of them in the city, what a wonderful opportunity this will be.

Mayor Hank doesn't quite know when he stopped being in charge but he's definitely no longer the boss he thought he was. He does get Delic out of prison (always handy to have an extra villain also keen on destroying your enemies) and sets him and the Conductor up in the fanciest penthouse suite the city has on offer.

Delic wants revenge, sure. But he's way more interested in riding this gravy train for as long as he can. Apparently old Chuckie is in rehab, ah well, he can sit tight until his buddy old pal reappears and they can start having themseslves a REAL good time.

The Mayor however, is starting to get really mad that not only is Roxanne Ritchi not fired, she's making him look like an idiot as well. He's got a damsel right there and waiting! Why can't she just disappear already?!

**FUTURE SPOILERS FROM HERE**

The Opera is the last straw. If Jonathan isn't going to fix things, he'll do it himself. The Conductor gets an address for one Roxanne Ritchi and a direct order to burn her place to the ground.

The Conductor does not take well to being told what to do. He takes quite significant offence in fact and burns down one of Roxanne's coworker's building instead.

This does get Roxanne out of her building and into the Lair for 10 days. Megamind is QUITE delighted!

Shortly after, so is the Mayor, he may not have a new damsel, but Metro Man just offered to buy the destroyed building at pre fire value! This is brilliant! He's going to tell the Conductor the good news immediately, oh they are going to make so much money...

The Conductor is not impressed by this.

Delic takes the opportunity to avoid mummy and daddy fighting to sneak downstairs and finds where Charles has been hiding.

Or at least what's left of him.

Delic has some THOUGHTS about this.

To be continued tomorrow....

[throughtrialbyfire]

WIP Wednesday!!

holy shit it's been forever. i'm sorry i haven't posted anything in a while, to make a long story short, college and burnout. but i'm slowly getting back in the groove!!

thank you to everyone who's been tagging me in this, including but not limited to @wispstalk @its-christmas-probby @saltymaplesyrup @skyrim-forever @totally-not-deacon @dirty-bosmer @rainpebble3 @thequeenofthewinter and anyone else who i may have missed!! ily guys, thank you <;33

tagging all of the above and @mareenavee @viss-and-pinegar @orfeoarte @thana-topsy @boethiahspillowbook @umbracirrus !! can't wait to see what you've been working on!!

this week, since i've hit a wall with CotS, i'm bringing an excerpt from an upcoming chapter of An Inner Sanctity. arch-mage athenath is going THROUGH it

Down in the Midden, the guttural swallowing of the sea and the hiss of wind drowned the remains of silence in the caverns. Athenath toed his way through carefully, taking out skeevers with arrows as quickly as he could. He tugged their robe tighter, as though the warmth of the wool could eliminate the darkness that crept around them like a thousand glaring eyes. The Augur's chamber stood before him, separated only by a door that their hand fumbled to even reach for, fingers unable to outstretch no matter how much they willed their hands to move. Shame lapped against his sternum, the depths of the caverns threatening to close over him, a moth into the palm of something unnatural, fingers closing over the last glimmers of ice. Tolfdir had been correct. Mirabelle and Savos were dearly beloved by the College, the last vestiges that kept the College in good graces with the town of Winterhold. They had been the pillars of this world of magic, and Athenath had done nothing but betray their memories. They shut their eyes, turned, and leaned his back to the door. Sliding down in stumbling, stuttering ways, he sat on the frigid floor, pulling their robes tighter around himself. This would not shield them. This could not save them. And what did he hope for, anyways? For the Augur to take some stance? He could almost laugh at the thought, were their heart not down in their stomach with dread. If he got trapped, no one could find them.

The thought rambled through his mind. If he let something happen, let themself fall into the frost, sleep and sleep and sleep, no one could find them, no one would want to. The filtering light from underneath the door shocked the Arch-Mage to stand, stumbling and slipping until he found himself once more with his palm on the handle and his questions before him, thick in the back of their throat. He inhaled and pulled open the entry, hinges creaking with age and ice. "You seek answers again, Arch-Mage?" The hoarse voice of the Augur of Dunlain reverberated around the dim chamber, illuminated solely by the presence himself. Athenath's eyes ached in his skull at the sudden sight, vision pulsating as he adjusted to the Augur's form. He swallowed tightly, attempting to form words, nothing tumbling out of their lips. The Augur waited patiently for a while, watching the Altmer open and close their mouth several times before he spoke again. "Very well. I must warn you, what you look for in guidance, you may find nothing but disappointment." The Altmer rumpled their brow. "Then-" he swallowed again, trying not to squeeze their eyes shut in the presence of the Augur, "okay, then you tell me what I seek."

The Augur waited. This seemed to be the game he played, if a game at all. The air swelled with the winds outside, the waves, the Sea of Ghosts pressing against the lowest reaches of the College as though it threatened to spill into the room and devour the Midden. Athenath tried and failed to conceal the nervous tremor on his lip. The Augur pretended not to notice. Instead, a thoughtful hum left his voice like a rumble of sand, before he rasped out into the dark, "you turn again to knowledge, the force that drives all who come to me. You know how easily it consumes, and yet you seek more." The understanding between the pair solidified. Athenath had seen the ends of the knowledge Ancano sought. Nearly-dead, barely himself. Only alive by the grim twist of Akatosh's will. "I warned him, and in his hubris, he destroyed himself. He has lost what I sought. Where magic may have taken my body, I am a part of the College. Where his magic was stolen, his body remains." "What stole his magic?" Athenath finally forced out, lowering their brow. The question gave the Augur a longer pause, and just as Athenath was about to speak again, the Augur interrupted.

"The thief has the knowledge that can help you in restoring Ancano's body. However, it will not be easy to convince him to assist you. He, along with the others here, have already grown suspicious of your activity. You were gone with no word for months, and he presumed that you had abandoned the College in it's time of dire need. You have lost the trust of your colleagues, and whether you regain it or not, is your decision alone." Enthir. Blood pulsing at their temples, the light snarling in their vision, they asked another question. "How can I convince him to help me?" The Augur, as though slightly amused, replied, "You are surely aware of his ties to the Thieves Guild, in Riften. He's a valuable asset, then, to both the Guild and the College." With that, the Augur vanished, and Athenath was left to fumble their way from the Midden in the dark.

Enthir rubbed his eyes, groggy from sleep. An afternoon nap never hurt anybody, but the way he'd woken to Athenath knocking on the door and urging him to follow them… Well, shit. He figured he was in trouble for something, and he figured over what. Look, yes, Onmund's robes were now a little worse for wear, but he didn't mean to set them on fire. If anything, the Arch-Mage should talk to J'zargo for swapping out Enthir's spell scrolls with ones of his own invention to test the results. The Khajiit swore up and down he didn't know they were going to backfire like that, but gods damn it, he should have warned Enthir before he sold them to Onmund, and… The walk through the Hall of the Elements set Enthir further on edge, dread creeping up his spine. He tried to ask Athenath several times on their march to the Hall of the Arch-Mage, but all Athenath did was shake his head. Even as the wooden doors creaked shut behind the pair with Enthir storming up to Athenath, wanting to know what was going on, Athenath waited until the doors shut fully and the pair were entirely alone to speak. "I need your help with something, but I need you to keep it between us." Enthir blinked a moment, inhaling, arms folding over his chest. He shifted his stance, balance moving from one foot to the other. "Really? What's all this cloak-and-dagger, Arch-Mage?" He snickered, a smirk winding onto his lips. The grave look in the other's eyes tore the smirk down like a banner. "You deal in things other people can't get their hands on normally, right?" Athenath walked slowly to their desk, covered in letters from the Synod and the College of Whispers, from researchers in Cyrodiil and the Reach, from the last two months of his absence. And not a single one was opened. "Yeah," Enthir rubbed his jaw, "if you couldn't tell, I don't just conjure my wares out of thin air. And for the record, you can't say you didn't buy some shady things from me before you got named Arch-Mage. So why are you bringing it up now?"

"Well," Athenath breathed, leaning back against the desk, "it would suck if your dealings became public knowledge. I mean, a scholar-thief, who knows what he's got up his sleeve. Maybe even other people's research. I mean, your ties to the Thieves Guild…" Maybe even other people's research. Enthir lowered his brow. "Blackmail." "And I'll give you something you can hold over me, if you promise right here and now to help me with something." A clavicusian bargain. He knew it was rigged against him. The tugging of the deal against his ear, the whisper of a poisoner promising wine. But gods, his curiosity dug into him as he watched the way the other shifted their posture, barely concealing their discomfort with the ordeal. This must have more potential to backfire than the Arch-Mage was letting on. A hefty price for both of them. Enthir swallowed down his apprehensions. "Just what in Oblivion would have you make a stupid deal like that? It's not like I'm a pillar of moral superiority." He raised a brow as the words flitted idly off his tongue. Athenath shifted their posture, eyes averting, avoidant. Enthir gave a pause as the idea slipped through his mind, and he finally asked, "is this about your friend?"

A nod. "Alright, what is it?" "I need you to promise me, Enthir, that no matter what I tell you, you'll help." This was not going to end in his favor, but he'd never seen Athenath so grave. The severity of what the Altmer was going to give him, in exchange for his help. Blackmail for blackmail for some vague thing that the newly appointed Arch-Mage kept close to their chest. He watched them carefully, rolling the tip of his tongue against his teeth in his mouth, slow, contemplative, before he relented. "Fine. I promise you I'll help on whatever you need." Athenath, despite the ringing in their ears, despite the thunder in his chest that made his hands shake and his throat taste of lantern oil from a draugr crypt, opened their mouth. "I know where Ancano is."

[angel-of-the-moons]

Nothing Is Lost

Khonshu x Fem!Reader

TW/CW: Nudity, nothing sexual, Khonshu is a dweeb who doesn't understand how privacy works, more comics/show merging.

Taglist: @drinkingwithkhonshu

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Chapter 8:

River’s Flow

You stared up dumbly. No way. No fucking way.

No fucking way was that damn god Jezebel told you to pray to right in front of you. Right now.

And did he just call you dumb or something?

“Well? What do you have to say for yourself?” He sneered.

You blink up at him, as if he were perhaps some sort of mirage you could will away from your vision. When that didn’t work, you got to your feet, your knees like jelly. You could faintly feel the buzz of the alcohol still in your system, but the shock of almost falling to your death and hitting the snow kind of sobered you up as the chill set into your clothes while the strange being glared down at you with non-existent eyes.

“Have you suddenly lost the ability to speak?”

You shake your head, standing up and finally looking away from the… thing in front of you. You start to pace, a chilly hand pressed to your forehead.

“Okay, okay… because this is totally fine.” You begin to nervously ramble.

“Those guys at the bar slipped me something when I wasn’t paying attention, or I–I hit my head when I fainted? Yeah, no, that’s gotta be it. I’m just hallucinating all of this because of some sort of GHB or…”

You wiped at your face with your hand, walking a trail into the slushy snow as your pacing increased. “Fuck, it’s like LSD or something!” You mutter to yourself.

“ENOUGH!” His raspy voice bellowed, stomping his staff onto the rooftop.

“Shut up!” You snap.

Your nerves were already alight with panic, confusion, frustration, and now just plain anger, thanks to the way your whole life has gone topsy-turvy over the past several weeks; you had just been attacked and literally swept off your feet by some literal white knight... And now, you were possibly face-to-face with a literal god that snapped at you for being upset?

You were done with supernatural bullshit–visions, nightmares, and gods included!

It seemed he didn’t expect a retort from you–let alone for you to shout at him like that–judging by how he reeled his head back slightly, and stood ramrod straight.

His skull tilted slightly as he regarded you silently, before his voice washed over you again. “You think you can just–”

“I said shut it, bone-face!” You say, gritting your teeth and jabbing a finger at him as you stomp towards him, your shoes now soaked all the way through and the chilly throb in your toes serving to only add to the flames that begun to bloom through you.

“I don’t care who you are, or what you think I owe you--but I am sick of the crazy bullshit that I’ve had to endure since I decided to take Jezebel’s word and pray to that stupid statue of yours! I could live with those crazy dreams before, being mugged every so often–but this?! I’ve quite had enough of this crazy, B-Rated movie nonsense!”

You throw your hands up over your head and march over to the door that led back down into the warmth and safety of your apartment building. Your stiff and aching fingers punched in your entry code, silently praying that by the time you made it to your nice warm bed the world will magically make sense again.

You cast one glance over your shoulder before you depart for the comfort of your meager home.

Khonshu was gone, leaving only a melted void in the snow. You shake your head and continue down the dirty old stairs, your shoes squishing with each tired step.

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You shakily cram your keys into your lock, grumbling to yourself about perhaps spending the rest of your paid vacation time in a mental ward after tonight…

You shut your door and re-lock it, sighing as the night’s events begin to rise and ebb with every thought that flutters through your mind. You didn’t care if you had the dreams again, tonight; sleep sounded like paradise right now, no matter how restless it might seem in the morning.

You toss your jacket onto the rickety old thrift shop chair by the door and turn.

Only for the light across the room next to your bed to turn on with a soft click.

You blink your eyes hard, once more hoping to will away this situation as a possible mirage cooked up by your imagination as you gawked at the figure sitting on the edge of your bed, one leg crossed over the other, hands clasped in his lap.

“Did you really think you could dismiss me so easily?” Khonshu sighed, sounding offended.

“Oh, come on!” You groan, throwing your hands in the air. “What do I have to do to get rid of you? Jump off a building? Because if that's the case I can go back to the roof!”

“I merely wish to know how you could be so powerful as to invoke me directly,” He tipped his head towards the statue of himself and continued speaking. “And turn that statue into a conduit.”

“Yet, when I show obvious signs of providing protection in return, you shrug it off and discontinue prayer…”

“You haven't done–” You stop talking and squint as you think back. One event does stick out in your mind…

“The guy in the alley?! That was you?”

“Of course it was. Did you think it was you?” He sighed deeply, sounding disappointed as he stood.

Khonshu takes lumbering steps to lean into your space, looking down at you. “You invoked me. The first mortal to directly do so, either intentionally or not, in some time. You have power inside of you, mortal.”

You step back, frowning. “Okay, if you think you can turn me into some… Some cultist the answer is no. I swear, I should never have accepted that stupid statue from…”

Your eyes widen and you look up at him. “...Jezebel? She's one of your followers?”

“It appears the alcohol hasn't completely nullified your ability to think rationally.” Khonshu scoffed. “Of course she is. What, did you think she happened to have a statue of me for no reason? That she, as a business owner, would give away stock?”

Well... Yeah, actually, you did. She sold all sorts of weird occult shit to people who adopted it as their lifestyles and gimmicks for internet clicks.

But at the same time...

He was right. It wouldn't have made sense, from a business’s point of view to give away something they could profit from…

“Then why give it to me?” You ask.

“I do not know. I intend to ask her.” Khonshu huffed, looking off to the side. “She is not known to do such things, especially at the risk of her own safety.”

“Okay, so you're a god but don't…” You frown once more. “...Wait safety? You're saying she could get hurt?”

“Of course. She is a defector from Ammit's cult. The only one I have found thus far that is worthy of being spared. She was a victim just as much as those Ammit and Harrow murdered.” He replied stiffly, standing up straight.

You pinch the bridge of your nose, hissing between your teeth as you think. “Okay… what the fuck is Ammit's cult.”

“None of your concern as their god is dead.” He said, waving his hand. “My knight has taken care of it.”

“Your “Knight”?” You squint at him. “You mean that Hunter guy?”

“A god has more than one fist. I have Hunter's Moon and the Moon Knight. My Moon Knight is currently overseas. Hunter's Moon tends to stay here, in the city, running the Midnight Mission.”

“Which I'm guessing is some kind of church.”

“A temple.” He corrected with a jerk of his head.

“Same thing…” You sigh softly, scratching at the back of your head.

“Not technically.”

“What are you, a thesaurus?”

“I’m curious.” He replied curtly.

You grab another one of your cheap thrift shop chairs around in a fluid motion and sit across from him, leaning forward on your elbows. “Fine. Shoot.”

Khonshu matches your gesture. “How did you invoke me.”

“All I did was say the prayer that Jezebel gave me. That's literally all I know.” You shrug, not breaking…. did it count as eye contact when the other party didn't have eyes?

“That is all? Nothing else?” Khonshu asked you tersely.

“Yeah. Why?”

“I heard your voice. Thousands of years ago I never had to strain my abilities to hear a prayer from one of my followers. But since the Old Dynasties fell, there are less and less…” He makes another, strained sigh, looking off to the side. “I still have followers and I know their voices well. But say, a new voice tries to join the fray… I would have to tax myself to hear them clearly. But you.”

He points at you with a long, heavy finger. “You are an anomaly. I heard your voice even above my recognized followers. Even above my Fists, my Knights.”

“Look, I don't know why that is, man.” You say, standing up. “People have said I'm loud and obnoxious, so maybe it carried over into that prayer thing.” You turned and started walking to your meager bathroom.

“Where are you going?” He asked.

You give him a bored and irritated look from over your shoulder as you yank some pajamas out of your dresser. “I'm cold, I'm wet, I'm filthy. I'm taking a damn bath. You can stay or leave, I'm too tired to care.”

And before the ancient god could respond, you closed your bathroom door and locked it; frigid, icy fingers wrapping around the knobs to your shower faucet. The knocking and squeaking of the pipes comforted you, of all the crazy shit in your life that keeps changing… those old noises stay the same.

You strip off your dirty and wet clothes, setting your clean ones off to the side of the countertop, and carefully step beneath the wonderfully steamy spray of water, allowing the heat to soak into your body, warming your chilled bones.

You let out a sigh through your nostrils and closed your eyes, moving your hands across your head and down so your hands were clutched at your shoulders; head tipped back.

And again… you weren't sure when it all went black.

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You hummed as you dipped the cloth back in the hot water before bringing it back to your body and scrubbing. It was another hot day and you wanted to wash the sweat and grime from your body.

You had visited the temples today, so you didn't have to shave or pluck any hairs away tonight.

Once you'd scrubbed yourself enough, you leaned over on the limestone slab to the kitc containing the various bathing oils you used in your house.

Of course, you could have the servants help bathe you, but you very much preferred to do so yourself, taking your time and ensuring every bit of you was clean.

Your body was a temple, after all, no? It deserved to be taken care of, just as methodically as the temples in the city dedicated to the gods.

But even those had priests and scholars to tend to them, however…

You sigh as you rub the oils into your arms, moving up to your throat before moving back down again to massage it into your breasts, and once more you move downwards to your belly, thighs… you did not stop until your body smelt as radiant as a wading pool when the lotuses were in full bloom.

There was a knock at the door to the bathing room.

“Merit, dear. Dinner is almost ready.” Your mother's voice called out. You could hear your younger brother, muffled through the wood of the door as he pestered her about something.

“Yes, mother! I'm actually finished! I'll be out shortly.” You reply, moving to your fresh linens to slip them on. Since you were not going anywhere for the rest of the night, a plain loose gown was perfect to wear to dinner with your family.

You opened the door and your mother's bright smile greeted you, your little brother hanging off of her arm, speaking so quickly you could barely catch him.

He was still merely dressed in the linen cloth wrap that covered his nethers. Draped over his chest was a gold necklace that your father gifted him not two weeks prior during the celebration of Hathor, at the feast in the palace.

Your thoughts were snapped back to the present when your mother placed her hand at the small of your back, guiding you to the room where you would all be dining.

“Your father is thinking of proposing a marriage for you, soon.” She sighed with a sweet smile.

“Ugh, not this again…” You whine. You were a grown woman. Old enough to bear children, yes, but you weren't ready for the tasks needed from a Lady of The House.

“I know... but, love and light,” Your mother said, brushing your cheek with her knuckles as your brother started to hang off of you, instead. “Your father and I won't be here forever. Our tombs are nearly finished and we want you to be taken care of when we depart.”

“I know…” You mumble, clasping your fingers tight over your little brother’s hand.

He tugs you through the beaded curtain, grinning at you with a gap-toothed smile. “Come on, Merit! Sit next to me!”

Your mother follows shortly, immediately moving to kiss your father fondly on his lips.

You shrug away the possible marriage, stowing the thoughts for a later time.

Now wasn't the time for thinking of marriage, right now it was dinnertime and you were happy to spend it with your family.

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You were pulled from your memory sequence suddenly when your shower curtain was yanked open and the steam flooded out from behind the safety of the plastic sheet.

Of course, you screamed and went to cover yourself. This did not seem to phase the elder god in front of you, who sounded, frankly, bored.

“You have been in the bath for over an hour.” He said flatly.

“GET THE FUCK OUT!” You squawk, blindly reaching out behind you to the alcove in the wall until your fingers wrapped around the bottle of your shampoo.

“You were–”

“I don't give a fuck–GET OUT!” You say, hurling the plastic bottle at the god in front of you.

It bounced off of his obnoxiously large beak with a comical “plunk!”, before falling to the floor.

He seemed taken aback by your outburst, and tilted his head at you as you hastily grab the shower curtain to re-obtain a semblance of decorum.

Khonshu on the other hand, did not understand your modesty. Back in ancient Egypt, it wasn't uncommon for many to walk only partially clothed.

He simply did not fathom as to why modern cultures put so much stock into body modesty. And besides, yours was attractive, at least to most standards nowadays.

Wait… why did he…

“Get out! Out out out!” You repeat, pointing towards the door. Funny. You didn't hear it open or close.

“How did you even get in here?!”

“Things such as doors or walls mean nothing to a god.” Khonshu scoffed, looking absolutely titan in your teeny bathroom as he rolled his shoulders stiffly.

“Okay good to know that locks mean jack shit now–GET OUT.” You snap, your voice once more becoming shrill.

“Ugh.” Khonshu scoffed once more before he turned, vanishing in a blur of mist before your very eyes.

Great.

Now, you assumed, you were going to be bunking with an ancient god who had no concept of personal space or privacy.

“Why can't I just have normal breakdowns like everyone else where I get put on meds and everything’s fine?” You ask yourself with a groan.

🌑🌑🌑🌑🌑🌑🌑🌑🌑🌑

Chapter 9: Link

[thana-topsy]

I think if I posted every unhinged thought I had about Neloth I would lose followers by the thousands.

Should I start?

[captain-of-silvenar]

WIP Wednesday

It's been a hot second since I did a WIP Wednesday! I got some stuff laying around, testing out new story ideas so I'm here to share one of them!

Here's a snippet of Chapter 3 of First Impressions! Do also read the other two chapters and let me know what y'all think of it!

Tagging: @yansurnummu @scalecallerpeak @sniperviper @throughtrialbyfire @thana-topsy

@skyrim-forever @eatthatsweetroll @baileybooradly @ashyam-xivilai

With a sudden crunch, Yera's arrow pierced through the chest of the draugr. Its death rattle followed it down as it collapsed onto the watery floor. Several more footsteps splashed toward their position as Teldryn stepped out of their hiding place and drew his sword. Flame in one hand, blade in the other, he was quick to end another draugr that approached and burned another arriving as back up. The whistle of a passing arrow was all that warned Teldryn as he turned around to see Yera having shot another of those creatures trying to sneak up behind him.  As fast as they arrived, there were now four dead-again draugrs in the crypt around them. Yera carefully stalked from her hiding position to the closest one and started rummaging around their rotten clothes for loot. Teldryn stood guard and kept his eyes and ears out for any more unwelcome visitors. It was quite the shock really to find anything else down here. As far as he knew these kinds of crypts were popular in Skyrim, same design and everything. Why there would be one under Raven Rock and not documented was beyond his knowledge. Perhaps there was some weight to Crescius’ ramblings. He tried not to think too much on it, no point in what ifs and what haves when one is in the situation already. With all the tight hallways and turns there was no telling what other monsters and fiends would be lurking here. Once Yera was done searching the draugr she moved up to him and turned her ear towards the next exit. “Don’t hear anymore footsteps,” she whispered. “Chances are they’re in their dormant state and waiting for us to walk by.” She pulled her seeing cane out again, letting it go before her and quickly clacking against the rubble on the ground. Teldryn followed behind and let her lead. She was quite insistent on it and for a good reason. It was she that told him of the draugr ambush and why they were taken down so swiftly. “There’s one patrolling around the corner”, she had told him, crouched behind a corner. “And two more walking deeper into the crypt. Chances are more will wake up though, so be prepared to fight when I take the first one down.” Recalling the memory just mere moments ago, Yera had pulled out her great ebony bow and pulled it back just in time for Teldryn to see a draugr walk right into view. Dead on, not a hint of struggle or hesitation. He’d have to ask later how Yera was so accurate without her sight. But later, Yera was walking ahead of him and he was lagging behind. Neither of them were going at much of a pace, trying to avoid splashing in the water below them. It was a refreshing change of pace from other patrons who never seemed to know where to put their feet half the time. Yera seemed right at home in the darkness and craggy ruins. The seeing cane far ahead of her, gently swinging back and forth to tell her of the obstacles. When it rose over a slight bump Yera paused and held a closed fist to signal to him. “Trap,” she said. “Right at the end of my cane, probably a pressure plate. Just go around it and we’ll be fine.” Easy order, he walked a wide berth around the end of the cane as Yera followed beside him. When he glanced up to check the upcoming stairs he did see a sort of glint behind the overgrown vines besides it. Old but effective. No one wants to become a pincushion from a swinging trap door.

[mareenavee]

Light The Way

Happy birthday, @thana-topsy <3 Neloth rambles, so I let him. Enjoy your Morrowfic :3

Light the Way

--- Please check the AO3 tags on this one. ---

“This is the most absurd thing I’ve ever heard,” Neloth said. “Though I should hardly be surprised, considering it’s you.”

Teldryn Sero, fool that he was, had the nerve to sigh. Dramatically. He did rather have a flair for that. All things considered, Neloth doubted he’d act any other way, what with the Nerevarine nonsense hanging over his head. An inflated sense of self is all it amounted to, really. And if Neloth knew anything, it was how to deflect that, much to Sero’s chagrin.

“We’ve been over this, Neloth,” Sero said, scrubbing a hand over his face in exasperation. He had a new scar—a raised scratch that cut counter to the tattoos that spiraled down his face. He’d said it was a cliff racer attack. Neloth rather doubted it. “My way is more effective. Blatant murder over on the Peninsula isn’t going to win you any points with the Council. It’ll turn into a House War before you have a chance to cackle.” Sero shook his head and began to pace the room while cracking his knuckles—an annoying habit made worse by the hollow clunk of his chitin armor. Neloth grit his teeth against the urge to yell at him over the unnecessary noise and drama. “Besides, I am…they won’t let me leave Vvardenfell anytime soon. And what are you really going to do over there by yourself?”

“House Dres needs to be put in their place, and I need to regain favor after…well. You know.” He was relatively safe here in Sadrith Mora, but they’d sent the Morag Tong after him a handful of times in the recent past. Shame, that. A waste of good fighters. Neloth fidgeted with a soul gem on his bookshelf until it stood just right to refract the sun filtering in through his window. It acted like a prism and washed the floor with shifting multicolored light. For a fleeting second, the pristine order of the moment brought him peace. “There’s things you’ll never have to worry about at your rank. Or even as Hortator, if you do choose to go be whatever it is the Empire insists you’ve got to be.”

Sero’s face twisted through several emotions before it settled back into the familiar, frustrated scowl he always wore. “The Empire can go f—”

“ —yes, yes, we know your sentiment. Spare me the histrionics, if you don’t mind,” Neloth interrupted with a flap of his hand, “because we do rather have things to accomplish today if we aren’t simply going to wreak havoc on the Mainland as I’d intended.”

“You know, we will have to discuss that topic again later,” Sero drawled, scratching the back of his neck. “As much as I don’t want to. For now, though, you’re right.” He huffed and crossed his arms over his chest. “Hortator. It’s madness.”

“I told you, you’re going to have to talk to Dratha first.”

“Neloth, she hates me. And you. And everyone, I think.”

“How on Nirn could anyone hate you, oh great Nerevarine,” Neloth droned dismissively. Sero shot him a glare and threw up his hands in disbelief. He muttered to himself in Dunmeris as he leaned against a far bookshelf, fiddling with some Dwemer gear or another Divayth Fyr had brought over the last time he’d deigned to visit Tel Naga.

Neloth grinned at his own minor victory and glanced over at the distracted Nerevarine, caught in the glare from the soul gem. His frown was etched into his face. Gods only knew the weight of all he was responsible lately was heavy enough to merit the dismay. Nobody seemed quite as capable of being so sullen over something as ridiculous as the entire Nerevarine situation. Well, perhaps now that it wasn’t quite a rumor anymore, it carried more weight. If any of this was real—though Neloth still had his doubts—it was a responsibility that came with expectations even Neloth would be remiss to shrug off in favor of this abolitionist nonsense. 

He knew Sero was procrastinating. Neloth had called him on it earlier, though the comment had been deflected. Regardless, like anything worth having, he’d eventually have little choice but to take the title. Or—Sero being Sero—convince himself he’d already earned it. The utter chivalry of the entire situation got exhausting after a while. What had happened to the slovenly bandit with a chip on his shoulder? Neloth could have sworn it hadn’t been that long—months, if that—since he’d first arrived looking for, of all things, employment. It was a valid path for a reformed criminal. But a bandit with a boyish face he’d still been, nevertheless. Apparently, prophecy and legacy did a number on one’s priorities.

Though, come to think of it, Sero had never really been the type who allowed himself to be pointed in a direction and told to stab. He’d always been too clever for whatever he’d believed about himself all those years before. Not that Neloth would be caught dead telling the fool that, though.

Neloth shuddered at the implications of admitting any kind of respect for a non-mage, first of all, and an otherwise nameless urchin besides. Imagine. The Council would be in hysterics, and the ruse would be dropped, and every ounce of power he’d clawed back to himself would evaporate in the blink of an eye. No. Securing a seat on the Grand Council was imperative if he wanted to keep his status. One did not simply earn a seat the same as individual House Councils: one had to make connections—or honestly, more likely lie or commission writs to clear a spot. No. There had to be concrete proof of concept. What, exactly, could one do as a Grand Councilor that would advance the House’s position as a whole? -> Read the Rest on AO3

[arkhmlcst]

“ what the fuck is a gluten… take that shit out… idc that it’s free .”

[definitelynotshouting]

Oh my goodness, this new chapter. Every time you update hunger au I go back and read the entire thing from start to finish - I think sections of it are written on the back of my eyelids now.

Grian is absolutely going through it right now, poor guy - everything’s topsy turvy, his friends won’t listen to his Very Reasonable points about their safety, and it sounds like he’s fighting a killer migraine in the form of the tendrils.

And the Grian Retrieval Squad! They’re fraying at the seams because getting to Grian was only ever half the battle, and they’re all trying so hard. Pearl last chapter was such a terrible delight.

Scar finally pulling all the key information together is wonderfully fitting. He’s one of the few able to consistently get past Grian’s defenses (after all they’ve seen of each other, flayed raw and aching), and he knows dissembling - knows what it looks like when Grian’s hiding things, small or large - well enough to pinpoint all the things Grian tried hardest to keep from saying, and drag them into a whole.

I’ll save the rest of my rambling for a more fleshed-out AO3 comment, but thank you as always for a wonderfully heart-wrenching chapter!

-☕️

Anon im so so glad you liked this chap!!!! Yeah its ALL a mess rn, and i really enjoyed writing Scar piecing things together!!! From the comments im receiving about it, it seems very much like i hit a good pace with that, and while some people are surprised i think i managed to keep it from feeling super out of nowhere (which im relieved about, that was a slight worry of mine)

Im looking forward so much to writing the next chapter. Hopefully i wont have to cut this one in half too, bc MAN i have some exciting things planned for it >:]

[lyrabythelake]

I’m back! This time with @fwoosheye’s prompt: “Lorian rabbits are venomous and therefore considered dangerous monsters.  None of the Links knows this.” 

The rabbit was a deep, dark indigo colour with two bright eyes staring innocently up at Wind, Twilight, Ravio and Legend as they continued their trek through the plains of Lorule. It was sweet really, albeit certainly less skittish than the usual grey rabbits of Twilight’s own era. He didn’t blame Wind for reaching a hand out to touch it.

“Wind!” Wind startled and drew his hand back with whip-like speed at Ravio’s sharp exclamation. The merchant looked positively aghast.

“I know you heroes have this reputation of having a death wish, but seriously?”

Wind scrunched his nose up in confusion.

“Huh?”

“I’m not one to lecture, but you should really be more careful.”

Twilight raised an eyebrow, an action he had certainly picked up from Time although he would never admit to it.

“Legend,” he asked the hero who is currently pinching the bridge of his nose like he had a bad headache coming on, “care to explain? I think we might be missing something.”

“Stay away from the rabbit,” he said tiredly. “Just… stay away.”

Now it was Ravio’s turn to look confused.

“Don’t you have rabbits where you’re from?”

“We do,” said Wind, “but they’re not that–”

“--common” Legend interrupted hastily, his hand dropping from his face. “They’re not that common in most of the other eras. Still vicious, though. Very poisonous and deadly, just like the ones in Lorule. And Hyrule. Obviously, because you’ve seen the ones in Hyrule and they’re the same as they are here.”

Twilight narrowed his eyes. Legend was rambling. Rambling! He never did that. He was also pretty certain rabbits in Hyrule were in no way vicious or poisonous. Ravio, however, seemed to take the explanation without hesitation.

“I see. Well, just make sure to be careful around them, okay? As Mister Link says, they’re very vicious.”

Wind and Twilight shared a look.

“Is that why you dress like one, then?” Wind asked, and Ravio nodded proudly, the ears on his hood bobbing up and down.

“You want to know something cool? Rabbits are Link’s and my soul animal.”

“Rav,” Legend warned, and oh, some things were beginning to slot into place.

“What’s a soul animal?” Wind asked innocently.

“Oh, well, it’s like how Mister Twilight can turn into a wolf! A soul animal is a creature that most reflects who you are inside and it often takes form with some transformation magic.”

“Wait…” Wind was clever, much too clever not to figure out Legend’s little secret, and frankly hilarious as it was, Twilight respected the fact he didn’t want anyone to know about it. “So if Legend used Twi’s shadow crystal–”

“Rabbits are vicious!” Legend suddenly cried, rendering any ideas Twilight had of saving his dignity null. “They’re deadly, poisonous beasts and I am not ashamed to be associated with them!” He sounded a little deranged.

Wind sniggered, because of course they were not poisonous, vicious beasts, no matter how much Legend wanted to pretend in front of Ravio. Yes, they might be deadly in the topsy-turvey land that is Lorule, but they literally saw a rabbit in Legend’s Hyrule two days ago and it was clearly docile and harmless (not to mention pastille pink).

“Too right, Link!” Ravio said enthusiastically. “You shouldn’t be ashamed, not one bit!

Twilight had a sudden image of Ravio cowering in the face of one of Hyrule’s pink bunnys and had to really try to keep the smile off his face.

“So, just out of interest, Ledge,” Wind continued, “is your soul animal a Lorian rabbit or a Hylian one?”

“It doesn’t matter,” Legend snapped, which was just a good an answer as any. Legend did have a tendency to dig himself into holes.

“I mean…” Wind began through snorts of laughter, “it kind of does. They’re a bit different if you catch my drift.”

“His form is actually a Hylian rabbit,” Ravio stated cheerfully. “You can tell because of it’s colouring.”

Legend was showcasing that colouring now; his face bright pink.

“Oh, Hylia,” Wind whispered, barely smothering his laughter.

“I hate you,” Legend growled. A lie, and they all knew it, but that didn’t stop him from storming off. Ravio followed, of course, leaving Wind and Twilight alone to burst into laughter.

“So wait–” Wind gasped, “let me get this straight. Ravio is under the impression that Legend can turn into a ferocious beast when in fact, the animal that most reflects his soul is a pink bunny rabbit?!”

“You can’t tell the others,” Twilight warned him with a grin.

“Oh, I know, but I so wish I could. Warriors would have a field day.”