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y-rhywbeth2 · 5 months

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Gods and Clergy: Bhaal

Link: Disclaimer regarding D&D "canon" & Index [tldr: D&D lore is a giant conflicting mess. Larian's lore is also a conflicting mess. You learn to take what you want and leave the rest]

I'm in a Durge and Orin mood, so we're getting the full details on Bhaal and his priesthood now. Fun fact, did you know the Dark Urge couldn't even die without Daddy's permission?

Featuring:

Intro: Do you realise this cult is basically a crime syndicate supported by the rich and powerful?

Priests: Hierarchy. Responsibilities. Murder. I rather like the ceremonial regalia, personally.

Deathstalkers: Teleporting! Killing people with your mind! Unlimited ressurections courtesy of Bhaal!! And yet more crazy shit!

Bhaal: Kitten thinks of nothing but murder all day. Also mortal backstory and the Slayer is absolutely nothing like the games depict it

Right then, "Bhaal awaits thee," and blah.

"Make all folk fear Bhaal. Let your killings be especially elegant, or grisly, or seem easy so that those observing them are awed or terrified. Tell folk that gold proffered to the church can make the Lord of Murder overlook them for today." - Bhaal's Dogma

Unsurprisingly for an ex-assassin, Bhaal is the patron god of assassins. Assassins, mercenaries, bounty hunters who aren't bringing their quarry in alive and, presumably, executioners all tend to send a prayer to Bhaal for success. Faithful were called Bhaalyn in the East and Bhaalists in the West. As BG3 takes place in Western Faerûn we'll use the latter.

Amongst these assassin worshippers we find the oh-so healthy individuals for whom killing is more than a job. These killers who regard their murders as a "pastime and a duty" join the clergy.

That said, Bhaalists do not murder indiscriminately. The taking of another life is a holy act, a lot of thought and planning goes into both the kill itself as well as what impact the death may have upon the world. Once the target is slain, they are to smear the victim's blood over their hands and draw Bhaal's symbol by the body with it. If Bhaal is pleased then the blood will vanish.

Bhaal supports and encourages his followers attaining wealth and comfort (it's a good hook to draw them in, and it makes him look good if his followers are successful), and in exchange for their worship his priest-assassins receive the priest spells and administer to the lay worshippers, who benefit second-hand. The assassins have an easier time killing people and getting rich and Bhaal profits from more prayer and death. A win for everyone (who didn't die in the process).

Bhaalist temples historically have spent their time founding and sponsoring guilds of assassins and thieves, including infamous organisations such as the Shadow Thieves of Amn. These guilds survived their patron's death, and while they were mostly businesses throughout the years of Bhaal's death many still paid homage (although there was some confusion involving his replacement, Cyric) and have presumably resumed worship. There's a massive old temple still functioning over in Thay; the Tower of Swift Death, and the assassins work closely with the Red Wizards who rule the country.

Bhaalists have no tolerance for rival guilds and organisations not following Bhaal (which would make them independent of their control) and will eliminate them. They will also root out anybody in the area that will attempt to oppose or otherwise interfere in their business and ensure they have freedom to go about their jobs/worship.

Their other job is to ensure the church has a steady income. They terrorise the commoners into paying tithes in exchange for safety from being sacrificed this tenday (a protection racket, basically) while leaving "economically and socially important individuals live unharmed." I mean, the peasantry have far less enemies to assassinate and gold to spend, so. Plus the rich and powerful are brilliant at turning a blind eye to crime when it benefits them, as well as making sure the evidence never sees the light of day - know which side your bread is buttered on, and all. Baldur's Gate has no law against the worship of Bhaal. Why do you think the original temple exists, after all? Bhaalists actively seek out and sway such potential patrons who would be... amenable to sponsoring and protecting their technically-legal church and its not so-legal activities in exchange for their services.

Urban temples of Bhaal are usually dark, subterranean affairs built under the city streets, containing countless branching tombs that are home to the bodies of the clergy's victims - said victims are usually wandering around down there as restless undead.

Bhaal's clergy can be recognised as Bhaalists by their ceremonial robes - full body robes of black or deep purple with a deep cowl. The robes will be randomly and violently streaked with flashes of violet. Their entire face is fully obscured by a black veil, to both hide their identity and make it appear as though the hood is empty for the intimidation factor.

The leader of the church in an area is the High Primate/Primistress, who can be identified by a red belt/sash they wear over their robes and the fancy curved ceremonial dagger that marks them as a high ranking priest and a specialty priest known as a Deathstalker - more about them in a moment.

High Primates spent much of their time planning the proper strategies of manipulating nearby rulers, inhabitants, and organizations into the deeds and behaviour that the Bhaalyn desired.

The High Primate is directly served by the First Deaths, who in turn can call upon a council of the nine most senior clergy; the Cowled Deaths. Below them were the regular priests, who were known collectively as the Deathdealers and are referred to by the title Slaying Hand. A Bhaalist rises in the ranks by hunting and ritually killing a target with nothing but their bare hands, which they will then report to a higher ranking priest who will confirm that they are being truthful. If they are then there's a party, and a ritual sacrifice is held to celebrate.

When on a job they dress in black - in the form that suits whatever their preferred method of killing in. Leather armour, mage robes, whatever.

Bhaalists pray to their god before sleep. In the temple the entire congregation comes together to pray in a formal ceremony called "Day's Farewell"). Bhaalists are also to pray before setting out on a murder.

Bhaalists only observe one holy day. It's the Feast of the Moon, a continent-wide holiday for honouring the dead and honouring one's ancestors. Bhaalists have their own spin on it where they remember dead Bhaalists and celebrate with stories of murder to honour them.

All Bhaalists are to commit a murder every tenday at midnight, should they be unable to fulfil this duty then they are to kill two people in place of the one who should've died that day. Before the victim dies, the murderer is to ensure that they know their killer and that they died as a sacrifice to the God of Death; "Bhaal awaits thee, Bhaal embraces thee, none escape Bhaal."

The specialty priests of Bhaal, those who dedicate their devotion and worship no god other than him, are the Deathstalkers.

One does not have to be a cleric to join the ranks, though the majority are. Rogues, rangers, barbarians and fighters are the most common, but all classes make an appearance (and most are multiclassed clerics)

To become a Deathstalker one must have murdered sixteen sapient creatures in sixteen different methods with sixteen different weapons. This presumably is also the rite of passage to becoming a member of the Brethren of the Keen Strike - an order of Bhaalist assassins to which all Deathstalkers belong.

Distressingly for people who aren't Bhaalist, Bhaal's Deathstalkers regained their Bhaalist abilities around 1372 DR, following the end of the Bhaalspawn Crisis, and resumed their duties, spreading death and terror in his name as they worked to bring him back to full power. The most popular argument for how the priests of a dead deity were getting their spells is that another god - likely Cyric, was granting them spells disguised as Bhaal. However, in the wake of the Bhaalspawn Crisis and the wave of fear felt towards Bhaal that resulted (which counts as prayer), the rumour mill became very fond of the idea that, despite how the crisis ended, Bhaal had still managed to resurrect at least some scrap of himself through that fear and the God of Murder was haunting the Realms once more.

The various abilities Bhaal gifts to his Deathstalkers include the following:

[From 3.5e] The ability to identify key weaknesses in a target by studying them for only a few moments, killing them in a single strike. They are also supernaturally good at stabbing people with their ceremonial daggers.

[3.5e] The ability to tap into the hatred of a person, stoking it into homicidal rage and direct it at another person who they will kill in a mindless bloody rage (also called the Urge to Slay, an ability Bhaal himself has)

[3.5e] Bhaal's own inability to just fucking stay dead - a Deathstalker Bhaal doesn't want dead will come back to life an hour after it is killed, with a single hit point left. During the time prior to resurrection they are an actual corpse.

[2e] They can point at a person, sending necrotic energy coursing through them and causing them significant damage, agony and possibly death.

[2e] They can inflict severe wounds on a person just by thinking it.

[2e] They can teleport! A Deathstalker can teleport themselves (and other people, if they're powerful enough) to the Throne of Blood and from there they can teleport to anywhere on Toril that isn't protected by warding magic. Bhaal won't do anything to protect Deathstalkers while they're in the Lower Planes - if you're strong enough to get yourself here, you're strong enough to get yourself out.

[2e] They can affect the emotions of those around them, reversing whatever emotions an individual is feeling towards them into its polar opposite.

[2e] They can accelerate the entropic aging process of objects.

Bhaal himself is "violent, cruel and hateful at all times." Being in the presence of the living fills him with an overwhelming urge to kill and destroy. He presents himself as either on the verge of a violent rampage or cold and ruthlessly calculating depending on which suits the occasion best. A Lawful Evil deity, his domain is the Throne of Blood in the first layer of the Lower Plane of Gehenna (Khalas), part of Bane's domain (Banehold). Hilariously, not a single Baldurs Gate game has got this right. BG2:SoA claimed it was the Hells, BG2:ToB changed to the Abyss and, for some reason, BG3 has put it in the Grey Wastes.

Bhaal served Bane, and was in turn served by Loviatar (goddess of pain) and Talona (goddess of disease).

His holy symbol is the Circle of Tears; clue in the name, it's a skull surrounded by teardrops of blood forming a circle.

Bhaal rarely manifested in avatar form. When he did, his main avatar in urban areas was the Slayer, which was not a four armed scaly monster:

"The Slayer look[s] like a corpse with a feral face, [bloodless] skin, and deep lacerations that endlessly [weep] black ichor that vanish[es] before it strikes anything."

It makes no noise at all when it moves. it can talk (its softly spoken and sounds creepy). It can levitate at will and summon floating daggers made of bone, that appeared and disappeared at will. They would cause any living flesh they hit to wither and die. Creatures slain this way would rise again as zombies under its control - or have its skeleton shattered into more bone daggers. Enough of these daggers form an area-of-effect; a wall made of a flurry of sharp shards of bone that would trap the soul of anyone they killed. Oh, yeah, and the Slayer can also inflict the overwhelming urge to murder everyone around you on the people around it.

Bhaal's other avatar was the Ravager, which was mostly an angry 30-foot tall giant with horns.

While in either avatar form, Bhaal also had the ability to create any form of undead loyal to him by touching a corpse (greater undead like vampires would be free once they'd completed whatever task he'd assigned them). He could also immediately destroy any undead, turning them to dust at a touch. Bhaal cannot be harmed by the undead.

Rather than using his avatars, Bhaal usually just manifested as a pair of flying undead hands that can shoot bone daggers at people. Or a laughing human skull trailing teardrops. Both these manifestations are capable of speech, casting darkness and driving everybody into a mindless bloodthirsty rampage - you might have noticed he really loves this trick.

He also invented his own undead monsters, the Harrla of Hate. Harrla are invisible creatures, which if you use magic to see them appear like human shaped wavering impressions. Guess what they do?? If you guessed "fill people with a sense of overpowering hatred and drive people into committing homicide" get yourself a fucking cookie!! (This isn't said anywhere in canon, but Bhaal has less imagination than a chunk of rock, I swear to god...)

According to one version of the story; in life Bhaal was a Netherese mortal wizard named Tharlagaunt Bale. He was one of a few hand picked by Jergal to bear a fragment of the god's divinity and raised from a young age to serve him (a Chosen, basically). Hilariously, one of the others was Karsus. These Chosen were promised godhood for their service as they set about performing a ritual to increase Jergal's waning power and make him one of the most powerful deities. Karsus chose to try and make himself a god instead and blew up the Weave, destroying Netheril and the plan and killing all of his coworkers except Bale.

Bale got a job as an assassin, changed the spelling to Bhaal and dropped his first name, teamed up with a bitter ex-slave with no name except the title "Bane of the Ancients" and a necromancer prince called Myrkul Bey al-Kursi.

His other backstory features him as Arabhal; the spymaster and chief assassin of the Netherese City of Rdiuz, and an ally of Bane. The two became unwitting paws of Jergal, who directed them through nightmares to do his bidding and slay various primordial divinities who threatened his plans.

Regardless of backstory, they all grabbed more divinity by killing an ancient god (also Bane's ex-master) and then he went knocking on his old boss' door for that godhood he was promised (Jergal at this point had embraced depression and just went "yeah, whatever, have it. Idgaf, I'm retiring." Or was manipulating them into becoming his divine pawns. There's more than one take on this story.) and Bhaal walked off the god of murder.

He learned of a prophecy predicting he would die when his stupid ex-travelling companions would decide to piss of Ao who would then kick all the gods out and make them mortal, and Bhaal then decided to sleep with what seems to be at least 25% of Faerûn to produce kids who would hold fragments of himself so that they could all fight to the death and he could resurrect himself afterwards. He was killed by the soon-to-be-god Cyric not far from Baldur's Gate during the Time of Troubles. Cyric proceeded to take his job, and there was a huge fight between Bhaalists who converted and those who didn't and the converts killed all the holdouts.

The rest of the backstory is basically just the original Baldur's Gate games.

#Durge is basically a crime boss #Also; Bhaal please have more than one fucking idea for once in your fucking miserable life I AM BEGGING YOU #dark urge #orin the red #long post #bg3 #durge #the dark urge #baldurs gate 3

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youraverageaemondsimp · 5 months

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Entangled. // Aemond Targaryen x Niece!Reader x Alys Rivers

MDNI ; reader discretion is advised.

Summary: after so much loss, you had been betrothed and later married off to aemond as a means to put an end to the war, he takes you to harrenhal where you meet his mistress, Alys rivers. What can possibly unfold?

WARNINGS: dubcon (I'm not sure but I'm adding it just to be safe), unprotected sex, p in v sex, slight breeding kink, tiddy sucking, m/f/f, cunnilingus, threesome, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, polygamy(?), witch stuff, aemond x alys, alys x reader, aemond x reader, canon typical incest, war, loss, slight angst, slight fluff, contains spoilers for fire and blood, canon divergence, reader doesn't have a description. + not proofread.

A/N: here's a fic as promised before I leave for 2 weeks due to mid terms! hope you all enjoy it! // divider credit: @cafekitsune

WC: 2.8k

The war was devastating to you and your siblings, having lost both luke and jace, you were terrified for your life as well as your younger sibling's.

You watched as your family fell apart, slowly but surely, all of them ended up dying, leaving you and your younger siblings alone and estranged. The moment you heard your stepfather, daemon's, death; you knew that it was over, there was no more winning anymore.

Especially with Aemond surviving the fight.

Loss, Grief, and Sorrow were emotions you became familiar with.

You had to anyway.

Because with war, there would always be the plague of such pessimistic emotions that would follow, with every news it will only grow stronger.

Alas, the greens ended up winning the war.

And Alicent, as a way to make sure none of this repeats again, has quickly betrothed you to her second son, prince regent, Aemond, while your younger brother Aegon III was betrothed to Jaehaera.

It's not as if you and Aemond were on bad terms before the war, it would rather be described as more… tolerable. Aemond didn't hold any feelings towards you, neither negative nor positive.

Is what you had taught.

Until you found out that halfway through your wedding procession that it was Aemond who proposed the idea of marrying you to him, Alicent had only planned for Aegon and Jaehaera's betrothal.

You exchanged your vows half heartedly, and as soon as the wedding had ended, Aemond wasted no time and immediately whisked you away with him to Harrenhal, which he inherited and resides there to rule rather than at the keep.

You had not spoken a word to him ever since the departure. You did not want to.

Harrenhal looked and felt ominous, everything about it screamed danger, whether it was the rumours about the curses that surrounded this place, or just the overall aesthetics and appearance of it, it scared you.

You knew that it was destroyed and basically melted during Aegon's conquest, but it seemed Aemond had tried his very best to rebuild the place, yet the result was more horrific than it was ‘fixed’ you would've preferred if it had been just left untouched.

Aemond, wanting to go all the way with the formalities, he gave you a tour of the castle, before stopping in front of his chamber, a private residence where only he is allowed, “This is our chamber.” He said.

Ah yes, it also belongs to you now, doesn't it? You are his wife after all. You nodded, not wishing to speak to him, the guard opened the door.

As you both entered inside, there was already a woman who seemed to be waiting, as if she knew you both would be coming. “Aemond, you have returned.” She stood up from her seat, putting the book down, addressing him informally.

Not your grace, my prince or any formal title, just Aemond.

You took note of her appearance, hair as dark as the night sky, eyes that resembled emeralds, donning a valyrian steel necklace.

Alys rivers.

Aemond's mistress.

“Alys, I have not permitted you to enter my chambers.” Aemond speaks calmly, not realising the awkward situation that has occured with you in the room. “Oh come on Aemond, do not be so cold, Is she your wife?” She turned the conversation to you and you wished the ground would swallow you whole because of the tension in the air.

“Yes, she is.” Aemond confirms and she hums, “And you must be his mistress.” You speak, breaking the silence you maintained all throughout, acknowledging her presence, catching her by surprise. “Oh? You're know of me?” she asks and you nod, “How can i not? When there's words of your presence infiltrating every corner of the world, after all, Who could the prince have taken as a mistress after his betrothal to Floris broke?” You question, eyebrows raised, you see Aemond visibly tense, likely feeling the tension now.

“What have you heard of me, Princess?” Alys asks, tilting her head to the side, “That you are very beautiful, eyes that shone brightly like the stars amidst the night sky; that is your hair.” You tell her truthfully making her lips break into a smirk, “And what else?” She doesn't break eye contact, it's your turn to smirk now, “That you must wield powers, which you had used to bewitch the prince.” You watch as her smirk turns into a smile, “What exactly are you implying princess?”

“That you are a witch.” You put implication on the word ‘witch’, Aemond coughs awkwardly and her chuckle breaks the silence and you giggle as well, “And what do you think of it?”

Why was she so curious to know of your opinion?

“Mhm, I cannot speak for everyone, but I do not believe it, I can say that for sure.” You tell her your opinion, “And why is that so?” she asks, “Because- it's just my opinion.” you shrug and she smiles.

“Alys, you can leave now.” Aemond interferes, kicking her out and you give her a smile which she returns as she leaves the chambers. “I apologise.” Aemond expresses his apology. You simply ignore him, not wishing to speak to him.

He sighs in annoyance, “For fucks sake why can't you just talk to me? You were speaking a lot to Alys when she was here.” He breaks his formality and that's when you turn to him, “There you are uncle, I was getting bored with the formality you have shown me, pretending as though nothing happened, that your family did not just kill my family.” You say in anger.

“It's over now.” He says and you scoff, “Over?! What do you mean over?! What about the grief that I carry? The loss of my brothers, my mother, my father??! It's destroying me from the inside out!” You shout and Aemond stands still, looking down as if in regret.

“You are not the only one that has experienced grief.” He murmurs and before you can say anything, he lifts his head up and looks at you in the eyes and you immediately stop yourself from speaking.

That's right.

You aren't the only one that has experienced grief, you suddenly remember helaena and jaehaerys. You bite your lip in thought.

“I'm aware that you have experienced more loss than me, more grief than me, some directly caused by me, but that doesn't mean I'm not a victim of it either.” He sighs, “Either way, there is no use of dwelling over the past, we need to put our differences aside and make this work, you saw what happened. War will only make it worse.”

You hated that he was right.

You watch as he comes closer and you don't move away, he wraps his arms around you, embracing you, it feels so comforting, when was the last time you were held like this? You hug him back, burying your face into him, breathing his scent.

“I, I know this will not solve anything that has happened, or bring your brother back to life, but I apologize, I hope we can put our past behind us.” You hear him speak as you zone out in the comfort of his arms, slowly drifting off to sleep.

Ever since then, you and Aemond had grown closer a bit, trying your best to make everything work, he had bedded you during the days that followed, consummating your marriage. But he still laid with Alys.

You did not mind, because though you had gotten closer, you didn't always want to be around him and Alys helped you greatly with that, keeping him away from you.

You were sitting in the library of Harrenhal, reading on the chaise until you heard the door open and watched as Alys entered the room. “Greetings Princess.” She bows slightly and you raise your eyebrow, “You can drop the formalities Alys, you referring to me formally while being informal with my husband will make it seem like I'm that one mean wife who has forced herself between two star crossed lovers.” You close the book you were reading and she chuckles, “As you wish, Y/N.” she refers to you by your name and you smile. “What is that you require from me?” You ask and she shrugs, “I simply wanted to see you, see how you are doing.” She says and you nod, “Hmm.” you hum.

“Has anyone ever told you that you are delectable?” She suddenly says and you look at her, “I've gotten compliments, yes, but not to that extent.” you tell her honestly and she hums. “Well, you are extremely pretty. Almost makes me want to-” She interrupts herself with a cough and you raise an eyebrow, “Make you want to?” You question, and she looks at you, “Have you for myself.” She says directly to your face, catching you off guard. “Oh?” You smirk, “You wish to steal me from the prince? He might see it as an offence.” you tease and she chuckles, “Maybe.” She smirks and suddenly it feels as if the entire power dynamic has changed. You clear your throat in an attempt to deviate from this conversation and try to start another one.

Encounters like that had become more frequent with Alys, she was being flirty indirectly, she had even done it in front of Aemond to which he didn't bat an eye to.

You had tried your best to remain composed, only to find yourself in a situation you didn't quite expect.

Your legs were held spread open by Alys as she laid behind you, your back against her chest, you could feel the softness of her breasts against your back as she kissed your neck.

You gaze falls on Aemond who was currently undressing, he was taking off his breech which revealed his hard cock, to which he gave a few pumps to ease the tension, “Come on Aemond, don't take way too much time.” Alys coos and Aemond obeys, lining his cock to your cunt, sliding it down your fold, gathering the wetness on his cock and later placing his tip against your entrance.

He then slowly pushes inside, causing you to gasp and grip the sheets below, Alys’ hands travel up to your torso and she grabs your breasts, playing with the nipple as she continues placing kisses on your neck.

Aemond fully sheaths himself inside you, grunting when he feels you clench around him, “Fuck, I love this cunt so much.” He groans before drawing his hips back and pushing forward, thrusting. “I know right? Been wanting to taste it for a while, let me at it when you're done.” Alys replies to him, she turns your face sideways and presses her lips against yours, kissing you.

Aemond's tip prods at the sweet spot located inside of you, causing you let out a loud moan into Alys’ mouth to which she chuckles, one of her hands leave your breasts and go to your cunt, she rubs small circles on your clit, elevating the pleasure you're feeling, and before you know it, your orgasm hits you as you come all over his cock, clenching him, causing him to moan and eventually finish inside you. He pulls out slowly, his cock beginning to soften.

Alys is swift in her movements, moving from behind you to facing you from the front, she pushes you further up the bed before lowering herself down to the level where she is face to face with your cunt, she hums in delight as she watches Aemond's spend ooze out from you.

Her tongue collects some of it before she licks a long stripe up to your clit, before engulfing it completely with her moan, which causes you to throw your head back in place. Your hand flies to her head to grip it, your fingers locked in her tresses. You whimper as she pulls on your clit with her mouth, nibbling it. She travels a little down towards your hole and pushes her tongue inside, fucking you with it, her nose rubbing against your clit.

You watch as as Aemond begins to harden again, he positions himself behind Alys, grabbing her by her hips and lifting her lower body up, You feel Alys moan against your cunt as she feels him enter her, her body rocks back and forth as he thrusts into her, she uses your thighs as a leverage to keep her steady, annoyed by the fact that he's using so much force to the point her face keeps leaving your cunt, her tongue swirls around your clit which causes the band in your stomach to snap, you gasp out her name and she moans into your cunt as she reaches her orgasm, teeth clamping down onto your clit but not too harshly yet enough to cause slight sting. Aemond pulls out before he can finish inside her, finishing on her back.

Why did he not finish inside her?

The thought flies over your head as they swiftly change positions again.

Another round? You're already too overstimulated from the previous pleasure.

Aemond lays down and pulls you on top of him, you lay your hands flat against his chest and balance yourself, he lifts your hips up and lines his cock against your entrance again before sinking you down on it, letting out a groan. “Seven hells, I just can't get used to this cunt no matter how many times I take it.” He grunts, “Sit on my face, Alys.” He looks at her and she smiles, immediately obeying, she faces you and you watch as her cunt hovers right above his mouth before she descends to it, his tongue immediately capturing her sex.

You slowly start moving your hips, causing Aemond to groan against her cunt, one of his hands remains firmly on your hip as the other travels to Alys's thigh, gripping it for leverage.

‘This is what heaven probably feels like’ Aemond thinks.

You bounce up and down his cock, Alys leans towards you to capture your lips into a kiss and you let her, your hands roam all over her body before reaching her breasts, you give a slight squeeze to them, making her breath hitch. She kisses downwards your neck, to your breast before taking your nipple in her mouth.

She suckles on your tit while maintaining eye contact with you, and you can already feel the third orgasm of night beginning to build up. She moans with your breast in her mouth causing pleasant vibrations to shoot up your skin, it seems as if she had reached her peak.

She quickly get off of Aemond's face and he sits up, fully focusing his attention onto you now, pressing a kiss to your lips, you can feel the taste of Alys’ essence on his tongue as he shoves in your mouth, deepening the kiss, he ruts into you at a speedy pace and pulls away from the kiss, to watch your tits bounce up and down as he thrusts upwards.

His mouth descends onto one of them, tongue playing with the bud, flicking it up and down, “I can't wait to see these swell with milk when my seed takes, I bet you'd taste so fucking good.” He growls, biting your nipple making you wince.

And it isn't long before you reach your third orgasm of the night, moaning his name loudly as you finish on his cock, and he once again finishes inside your cunt, filling you up with his seed, painting your walls.

You fall slumped onto his shoulder, exhausted from all the intimate acts you have committed with Aemond and his lover, and practically your lover too now.

He pulls you off him and lays you down next to him gently, pressing a kiss to your forehead, you watch as Alys lays on your stomach, and she turns to press a kiss to your lower abdomen, right where your womb was located and whispers some words which you couldn't make sense of.

She then climbs up further and lays beside you, hugging you close to her chest and Aemond pulls you both into an embrace.

“She'll soon give birth to children that will look like the three of us.” Alys says to Aemond and he hums, “How?” You question, furrowing your eyebrows and she chuckles, “Maybe that being a witch rumour wasn't false after all.” She says and you gasp, “Though, I never really bewitched the prince, I never had to.” She chuckles and leans over to kiss Aemond before falling back to place.

You thought Alys was just bluffing and joking at that time, until you gave birth to twins months later.

Who ended up having features of all three of you, your son, having one emerald green eye and one purple eye with your hair colour, and your daughter with platinum blonde hair with your eye colour and facial features of alys.

You wondered how she'd done it.

— ! ݈݇- thank you so much for reading! i hope you enjoyed it <3 comments and reblogs are appreciated greatly ♡

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sharksandjays · 10 months

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Once again rambling about Jay and his awesome power. One thing I've noticed about him, especially with his power, is that it seems to tax him a lot more than the others' does. Probably because of the power and intensity of lightning. I've seen so many posts about how Jay uses a very small voltage when he fights because he doesn't want to hurt people, but what seems to be supported by the canon is that it also hurts him. Every time he deals with pure lightning bolts (rather than just shocks), he seems to hurt himself in the process. This is proven in season 14 when he is literally sparking after recharging the ship.

And judging by his expressions, it's affecting him. It hurts and exhausts him.

And in season 6 and season 8 we see how dealing with direct bolts of lightning affects him. In season 6, he screams when it hits him.

And in season 8, he gets physically exhausted for a moment after redirecting.

At least from what I have seen, this is very different from the other ninja, who seem to be able to control their elements-for the most part-at different intensities without it affecting them. (Aside from Lloyd.)

Which just brings me to the point that I personally believe that Jay's power is the most powerful of the creation elements. He doesn't use it to its full potential (and KO enemies, like he could) because, while he can handle like 900 million volts (in season 6 he's struck by like 3 direct bolts of lightning, and survives), that doesn't mean he will be combat ready after that.

This might also be why Wu brought him into the team early (with Cole). He probably needed a lot more training on pain tolerance, keeping the mind and body calm, and probably lots of other endurance training. (Which is indirectly canon with how well he was able to handle Nadakhan's mental and physical torture vs the other ninja.) His power is so unpredictable, and so his training must have been very rough when he first got his powers, which is once again supported by the canon as both Nya and Lloyd talk about how he destroyed the South(?) Wing of the Monastery with an electrical fire while practicing his powers. Wu probably had to focus on his control a lot more than with the other ninja (probably like how he had to with Nya, if you think about it. Lightning and Water are both hard to control, so concentration would be key to learn for both of them, which is ironic with Jay's fanon ADHD).

Point is, Jay is super cool and so underrated sometimes. I really think it'd be cool if the show went more into how their powers affected them! Though speculation is also fun.

Anyways. Jay with the lightning chicken because they would be (are) besties.

#once again rambling about ninjago #once again rambling about jay #guess who my favourite character is guys #i love lightning #jay ninjago #jay walker #jay gordon #ninjago thoughts #ninjago hc #sharkanalysis

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bimbolita · 3 months

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I’m so glad everyone is having the same visceral reaction to episode 4 like I did. I thought I was being too sensitive but fucking no. It is painful. It is horrid. Knowing that this type of abuse actively happens to sex workers and those who are trafficked. It’s jarring because I didn’t expect to see this dark and explicit depiction in a cartoon that jokes about penises every 2 minutes. It’s like when light hearted coco melon shows start talking about death, it was just unexpected because I never took this show serious. I’m going to share more of my thoughts below! Trigger Warning: Mentions of SA ⚠️

I don’t think it’s my place to deny or confirm if the ‘poison’ scenes were fetishized, I personally believe it’s subjective. I know how I feel but I think no matter where you stand, you are right in your own way. Many things can be true at once. What we can all agree on, is that it was harsh. In a way, I hope the audience is able to understand how exploiting and non glamorous sex work is. There is nothing fun about having your body used multiple times a day by people you do not know and having said scenes recorded then plastered all over the media. Of course all forms of engaging in or creating adult content are different, I am specifically talking about sex workers who have no say or control over their bodies and finances. Like Angel. Let us put emphasis on WORK in sex work.

It is demanding. It is laborious It is scaring. Remember that and remember the unheard voices who must do this to simply survive.

There is a lot of criticism about angel’s personality and yes I agree it is annoying but you have to understand, it is a trauma response. Hypersexuality is a common trait among those who are sexually abused. Angel just outwardly expresses it all the time because it is all he knows. This thought process is the only way to tolerate his behavior. I say thought process because it is only an interpretation. It’s very obvious viv just adores writing sexed up characters with zero nuance or depth but let’s just pretend she can actually write male characters that think beyond their cock and balls. Let’s pretend that Angel Dust is a two dimensional character and not (grits teeth) fetish bait.

Now, let’s talk about Charlie. Alright great, she saw her friend being mistreated and was about to stand up to his abuser, ok good good. The victim (Angel) gets upset and wants her to leave because he was beaten. Yes, average response of someone who is an abusive relationship, he is afraid and wants to avoid more conflict between him and Val. The situation at hand couldn’t be more than obvious. How does Charlie respond? She cries. And not because she is frustratedly concerned for the safety of her friend. It is because he yelled and rejected all her poor attempts at helping. Charlie is weak as shit and I think that interaction was weirdly written. I wish she had the mental fortitude to understand how much danger Angel’s life was in at that moment. I cannot enjoy her ‘aggressive kindness’ cutie do no wrong baby girl type of character in a moment like that.

And I feel the same about Husk’s song. Out of all the responses you could’ve made, this is what made it to the final cut? Do better. I don’t care if I lack the mEdIa LiTeRaCy twitter keeps yapping about. It’s bad. You just showed a sexual assault montage and the rebuttal was basically “my uncle broke his neck tap dancing once :/“ lol we’re both losers and that’s ok, suck it up buttercup, I like you regardless. This was the best response to an SA victim? No degree in media literacy would ever help me think that was an acceptable response. I dunno about ya’ll but I major in common sense at the university of using my eyes and fucking ears. Now imagine, if that entire segment, when Husk and Angel are at the bar plus the musical number; imagine if all of that was placed BEFORE we see Angel and Val interact and then poison plays as the final song. It would be 10x more impactful because then the audience sees how deep and stuck Angel actually is. Trauma olympics is never acceptable but neither is trauma participation trophies. It is not right to make Husk’s issues be seen as the same as Angel’s issues. They are not the same and it is ok to acknowledge that Angel has it worst than Husk. It’d be more genuine if Husk were to just hug him in complete silence after dragging him out of the bar and have Angel tearfully embrace him back. The first non sexual and benevolent interaction between them. The first physical act of care with no ulterior motives of lust.

I grind my teeth at the wasted potential.

#sorry for randomly dropping that trolls reference but it’s exactly what husk’s song felt like!#i hope my statement about sex workers didn’t come off as bashing anyone!!!#it’s just important to know it hard and can be extremely dangerous #don’t let some onlyfans girl with a pink wig trick you into thinking it’s fun just because she used her check to buy disney tickets or smth #sex work is (and i cannot stress this enough) WORK. LABOR.#anyways teehee thank you for reading!!!#anti vivziepop #anti hazbin hotel #vivziepop critical #vivziepop criticism #hazbin hotel critical #hazbin hotel critique #hazmat hotel #🍯

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rebeccathenaturalist · 1 year

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Wild vs. Feral, Domesticated vs. Tame, Native vs. Invasive, and Why Words Matter

Originally posted on my website at https://rebeccalexa.com/wild-vs-feral/

Recently a post crossed my dash on Facebook featuring a small group of llamas in the forests of the Olympic Peninsula. The caption described them as “wild” llamas (Lama glama). That may seem pretty innocuous to the average person, but to a naturalist it’s a gross mischaracterization. For one thing, llamas are completely domestic animals, no more wild than a cow or dog; they are descended from the guanaco (Lama guanacoe), which is a truly wild camelid. So this means that the llamas on the peninsula are feral, not wild. But why does the distinction of wild vs. feral matter so much?

The terms we use to describe various species help us to understand their origin and, perhaps more importantly, their current ecological status. These concepts aren’t just relevant to scientists, however. Everyday people are constantly making decisions that can affect the ecosystems around them, and often these decisions are made without having a full understanding of their impact.

For example, look at how many people release unwanted pets into the wild, whether domesticated rabbits, goldfish, snakes, or other, more exotic animals. Some of these unfortunate animals end up dying pretty awful deaths due to starvation, exposure, or predation. But others manage to survive and reproduce, becoming the latest population of non-native–and potentially invasive–species in their ecosystem. This wouldn’t happen if more people understood the impact of non-native species, and how releasing captive animals puts native species at risk.

But it all starts with knowing that there’s a difference, and understanding the terms that explain why that difference exists. So let’s explore some vocabulary that can be used to describe species, whether animal, plant, or otherwise.

Let’s start with domestication, because there often seems to be confusion as to what makes a species domesticated. Domestication is a process that takes many years, often measured in centuries. Humans breed chosen animals for particular traits over a number of generations. As time passes, each subsequent generation becomes more different from the wild species it originated from, and eventually a new, fully domesticated species emerges from this process of artificial selection by humans.

Dogs (Canis familiaris or Canis lupus familiaris) are the first animal humans domesticated in a process that started about 30,000 years ago. They evolved from the now-extinct Pleistocene wolf, a particular lineage of the gray wolf (Canis lupus), and it’s likely that the partnership began as some wolves showed less fear of humans while scavenging from our kills. By 14,000 years ago dogs were a distinct species (or subspecies) from wolves.

Dogs display very different characteristics from wolves. Their faces tend to be shorter with a more pronounced stop (the bump in the forehead where the muzzle meets the rest of the skull.) Floppy ears and curled tails are common, as are patchy-colored coats. Dogs tend to have weaker muscles than wolves of a similar size, shorter legs and smaller feet, smaller teeth, and a smaller size overall. This is a phenomenon known as neoteny, in which domesticated animals have a tendency to retain more juvenile physical traits of their parent wild species, and you can see it in domesticated animals across the board.

But it’s not just physical appearances that matter. Behaviorally dogs are generally more friendly toward humans; in fact, they’ve even developed some human-friendly body language that wolves don’t have, like “puppy dog eyes.” They can be easily trained and, unless poorly socialized, dogs generally enjoy the company of humans.

In many ways, physically and behaviorally, a dog is a wolf that never grew out of its puppy stage. While a young wolf pup may be able to live in someone’s house for a short time, as they grow older they become more destructive and less tolerant of human company. Your dog may love watching out the window during a car ride, but a wolf is going to be much more stressed out by the experience. Even wolf-dog hybrids have to be treated differently than your average domesticated dog because the wolf content has a significant effect on behavior.

This is just one example of how domestication isn’t just a matter of a few generations of selective breeding. You can also compare domesticated horses (Equus ferus caballus) with Przewalski’s horses (Equus ferus przewalskii or Equus przewalskii) or zebras (subgenus Hippotigris), domesticated cows (Bos taurus) with stories of fierce wild aurochs (Bos primigenius), and so forth. In every case the wild and domesticated counterparts are very different in both appearance and behavior.

Now, what about the term “tame”? Many wild animal species have been tamed over the years, either wild-caught individuals or those born in captivity. These tame animals may be more docile in comparison to their fully wild counterparts, but this generally takes a lot of handling and socialization from a young age. Moreover, tame animals retain a lot more wild behaviors than domesticated ones.

Take those supposed “domesticated” foxes that people want to have as pets. Most of the foxes available as pets have no relation to those in the famous Russian fox domestication experiment, but are from modern fur farm lines. And in fact the study foxes came from Russian fur farms, so the researchers were beginning with pre-tamed animals rather than truly wild ones. While some tame foxes may be more amenable to human handling than wild foxes, they are by no means domesticated. They are more prone to wild behaviors like urinating everywhere to mark territory, chewing on anything they can get their jaws on, nipping, and making a LOT of noise. Moreover, whereas dogs adapted to eating an omnivorous diet after millennia of eating alongside us, foxes need a more specialized diet than what you can get at a pet store.

Unfortunately there are unscrupulous people within the exotic pet trade who will advertise their tame (at best) stock as “domesticated.” This often leads consumers to thinking that they’re getting a much more tractable animal that will be as easy to care for as a cat or dog, and sets up everyone involved for disaster (except, of course, the seller with a fatter wallet.)

Next, let's compare wild vs. feral. A wild species is one that has never been domesticated, nor have its ancestors. Generally it will be a native species to its ecosystem, though non-native species can also be introduced to an ecosystem without ever having been domesticated. A feral animal, on the other hand, is a member of a domesticated species that has escaped or been released back into the wild and has survived to reproduce new generations that have never been handled by humans.

I’ve often heard people refer to the feral swine (Sus domesticus) that have ravaged ecosystems worldwide as “wild pigs”. They may behave in a wild manner, and they certainly look rougher and hairier than your average well-fed domesticated pig on a farm. It’s not uncommon for feral animals to regain some traits of their wild ancestors. However, that does not make them truly wild.

If you manage to wrest away a litter of newborn piglets from a feral sow and bottle-feed them, they are likely to be able to be socialized and kept in captivity, though they may still physically resemble feral pigs. They haven’t lost the deeply-ingrained genes that carry domesticated traits. However, if you try to raise a newborn Eurasian wild boar (Sus scrofa) or red river hog (Potamochoerus porcus), it will lack the domesticated traits of its farm cousins and show more wild traits as it ages, making it a rather unsuitable pet or farm animal. We also see this return to domestic traits in mustangs and other feral horses captured at a young age. While a mustang born in the wild may be tougher to work with at first than a foal born in captivity and handled from birth, the mustang will be much more calm and easier to train than, say, a zebra.

The problem with referring to feral animals as “wild” is that this suggests they are a natural part of the ecosystem they are in. Because a truly domesticated species (or subspecies) is not the same as the parent species, it has no place to which it is native as a wild animal.

A native species is one that has evolved in a given ecosystem for thousands or even millions of years. In the process it has developed numerous intricate interrelationships with many other species in that ecosystem, creating a careful system of checks and balances. A non-native species is any species that has been taken out of the ecosystem in which it evolved and placed in a different ecosystem where it is not normally found.

For example, here in North America the mourning dove (Zenaida macroura) is a wild native species. While it may resemble domesticated pigeons, it has never been domesticated even when kept in captivity. The Eurasian collared dove (Streptopelia decaocto), on the other hand, was introduced to the Americas after a few dozen individuals were released in the Bahamas in 1974. The feral pigeon (Columba livia domestica) is a domesticated species derived from the rock dove (Columba livia), which is native to Europe, west Asia, and northern Africa. Both the collared dove and pigeon are examples of non-native species. Most non-native species do not offer any benefits to the ecosystems they are introduced to because they do not have established relationships with native species. When they compete with native species for resources, they weaken the ecosystem overall.

Non-native species can be further categorized as naturalized or invasive, or even both. A naturalized species is a non-native one that has managed to establish reproducing populations, rather than going extinct without becoming established. Unfortunately, some people take this to mean that the species has become fully integrated into the new ecosystem. However, this is a process that again takes thousands to millions of years as other species adapt to the newcomer, which itself often also changes as it adapts to its new environment.

Ring-necked pheasants (Phasianus colchicus) are an example of a naturalized species in North America. Native to Asia and parts of Europe, they were introduced here as a game bird 250 years ago. While captive pheasants are regularly released into the wild to offer more hunting opportunities to humans, this species has likely been naturalized from its first introduction.

Again, “naturalized” doesn’t mean “natural”. Pheasants compete with native birds like northern bobwhite (Colinus virginianus) and prairie chickens (Tympanuchus spp.) Not only do they compete for food, nesting sites, and other resources, but they also spread diseases to native birds. Pheasants even engage in brood parasitism, laying their eggs in native birds’ nests and sometimes causing the native birds to abandon the nest and their own young entirely.

This means that the pheasants are also invasive as well as naturalized. Invasive species are non-natives that aggressively compete with, and sometimes displace or extirpate, native species. There are several hundred species that have become seriously invasive here, including both vertebrate and invertebrate animals, and numerous plants. But even the rest of the over 6000 non-native species that have become naturalized here still put pressure on native species, and have the potential to become invasive if their impact increases to a more damaging point.

Hopefully this gives you a clearer understanding of what these terms mean and why it’s important to know the difference. By knowing a little more about how your local ecosystem works and how different species may be contributing to or detracting from its overall health, you have more power to be able to make decisions that can preserve native species and help ecosystems be more resilient. Given that the removal of invasive species is one of the most important ways we can help ecosystems thrive in spite of climate change, it’s more important than ever that we increase nature literacy among the general populace. Consider this article just one small way to move that effort along.

Did you enjoy this post? Consider taking one of my online foraging and natural history classes or hiring me for a guided nature tour, checking out my other articles, or picking up a paperback or ebook I’ve written! You can even buy me a coffee here!

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star-anise · 2 months

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reading supercut: disability, body image, and trauma

A glimpse into the clothes thrashing around in the washing machine of my mind, with apologies that it is still a wet lump and not an actual synthesis of ideas.

From Easy Beauty: A Memoir by Chloé Cooper Jones:

[This event] embedded a damaging idea in me, one I’d recognize deeply when I read Scarry years later: beauty was a matter of particulars aligning correctly. My body put me in a bracketed, undercredited sense of beauty. But if I could get the particulars lined up just right, I could be re-seen, discovered like the palm tree is discovered. To be deserving of the whole range of human desires, I had to be extraordinary in all other aspects. In this new light, I started to see my work, my intellect, my skills, my moments of humor or goodness, not as valuable in themselves, but as ways of easing the impact of my ugliness. If only I could pile up enough good qualities, they could obscure my unacceptable body. [...] accepting the argument that beauty was malleable came, for me, with a cost. The Platonian view rejected me cleanly, but Hume and Scarry left a door ajar and I’ve spent a lifetime trying to contort my form to see if I could pass through it.

From Til We Have Faces: A Myth Retold by CS Lewis:

I now determined that I would go always veiled. I have kept this rule, within doors and without, ever since. It is a sort of treaty made with my ugliness. There had been a time in childhood when I didn't yet know I was ugly. Then there was a time (for in this book I must hide none of my shames or follies) when I believed, as girls do — and as Batta was always telling me — that I could make it more tolerable by this or that done to my clothes or my hair. Now, I chose to be veiled.

From Cognitive-Behavioral Therapy of Borderline Personality Disorder by Marsha Linehan:

Inhibited grieving is understandable among borderline patients. People can only stay with a very painful process or experience if they are confident that it will end some day, some time—that they can "work through it," so to speak. It is not uncommon to hear borderline patients say they feel that if they ever do cry, they will never stop Indeed, that is their common experience—the experience of not being able to control or modulate their own emotional experiences. [...] In the face of such helplessness and lack of control, inhibition and avoidance of cues associated with grieving are not only understandable, bur perhaps wise at times. Inhibition, however, has its costs. [...] Volkan (1983) describes an interesting phenomenon, "established pathological mourning", which is similar to the pattern I am describing. In established pathological mourning, the individual wishes to complete mourning, but at the same time persistently attempts to undo the reality of the loss.

From How to Respond to Criticism by Danny Lavery:

Apologize, but don’t really mean it, and plant a seed of secret resentment so deep in your own heart that years later you can’t even remember that you’re the one who nurtured it and made it grow, it seems that much like a native part of you.

From Tiny Beautiful Things by Cheryl Strayed:

[After learning that state child protective services had made a budgetary decision to only intervene with children under 12, to one of the teenagers that regularly shared stories of abuse at home] I told her it was not okay, that it was unacceptable, that it was illegal and that I would call and report this latest, horrible thing. But I did not tell her it would stop. I did not promise that anyone would intervene. I told her it would likely go on and she’d have to survive it. That she’d have to find a way within herself to not only escape the shit, but to transcend it [...] I told her that escaping the shit would be hard, but that if she wanted to not make her mother’s life her destiny, she had to be the one to make it happen. She had to do more than hold on. She had to reach. She had to want it more than she’d ever wanted anything. She had to grab like a drowning girl for every good thing that came her way and she had to swim like fuck away from every bad thing. She had to count the years and let them roll by, to grow up and then run as far as she could in the direction of her best and happiest dreams across the bridge that was built by her own desire to heal.

From Essays in Aesthetics by Jean-Paul Sartre:

Freedom is what you do with what's been done to you.

From "I Know What You Think of Me" by Tim Kreider:

if we want the rewards of being loved we have to submit to the mortifying ordeal of being known.

#mental health tw #trauma tw #child abuse tw #child neglect tw #staranise original #kinda #there's also a lot I've been reading about avoidant personality disorder that DEFINITELY needs a lot more baking #before it's ready to be unleashed onto the public

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palesweetscherryblossom · 3 months

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Platonic Yandere Naga Todoroki family

(This was a long time coming. This is completely disconnected from the Mythical Forest au btw)

Warning: Mentions of stalking, violence and Yandere behavior.

-These guys are extremely feared by villagers and tourists alike, Enji had gathered quite the reputation for being a massive asshole. A violent asshole to be exact.

-Rei and her children are far more merciful and generous, helping out lost people and giving them directions.

-Except Dabi, he’s just a smug bastard who will probably lead you into crocodile invested waters for shits and giggles.

-You were the child of infamous explorers, whom have decided to explore the Todorokis’ forests.

-It was Shoto who discovered you first, watching you from the trees once he got wind that there were humans around.

-He ended up saving your life because a jaguar attempted to attack you.

-You were a little freaked out by the fact that a creature like Shoto existed but you became chill around him.

-Shoto then decided to tell his family about you. Enji was going through his redemption process as no one was tolerating him anymore. (Dabi tried suffocating him-)

-So now you have a snek family stalking you.

-Rei is just instantly in love with you, you’re just so adorable to her.

-Fuyumi leaves you little things that kids your age might like. I.E little hand woven dolls, books she had picked up from abandoned structures.

-Shoto and Natsou keep you safe from threats. Hanging out in trees in the late night hours.

-Enji stays at the den, as his kids are like: My dude, thin fucking ice.

-Dabi occasionally hangs out with his brothers on night shift but other than that, he’s fucking with crew.

-Casually depositing venom into a crew member’s water, breaking someone’s ankle.

-You are currently quite content with everything, especially with the all the little gifts and occasional visits from your friend Shoto.

-Until they fully raid your camp. Enji and Dabi handle everything whilst the rest of the family get you.

-Understandably, you’re quite upset about your family possibly being murdered and being abducted by snake people.

-Rei and Fuyumi are utterly upset with your crying and screaming, Shoto feels especially bad.

-Once you get comfortable in the den, everyone is satisfied. They have obtained their hatchling!

-Rei is obsessed with you, doing your hair, snuggling you. You’re her baby! She especially loves it when you willingly snuggle with her.

-Fuyumi teaches you essential skills about surviving and how to function. She’s really gentle but can get a little bit overwhelming. She’s wary around the idea of you potentially flocking together with human kind.

-It took a while for you and Shoto to rebuild trust, he was genuinely sorry. He’s loving and gentle with you but a bit clingy. He can’t stand the idea of humans reclaiming you.

-Natsou is probably the most chill and level headed of the family. He’s patient and scolded everyone for being overwhelming. He handles your health stuff, making sure you don’t die. Natsou can’t stand you being around Enji, given how Enji is a violent asshole.

-Dabi is a strange guy, he lurks around the den, just eyeing you with an indescribable gaze. He scares You honestly, especially since he’s the most trigger happy of the clan. He’s gentle with you, snuggling you whenever he wants. He’s not afraid to make his disdain for Enji and Shoto clear, giving a nasty hiss towards them. Don’t run off when he’s around, just don’t.

-Enji is probably the most gentle with you, but wary. He knows that he’s on thin ice around his family and will probably get turned into a hashtag by his sons if he fucks up. He uses his tail as a weighted blanket for you tho.

@thecuriousquest

@messedupcookiejar

@bongo020405

#platonic yandere #yandere mha #yandere todoroki clan

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scientia-rex · 7 months

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Do you have thoughts about dealing with your ADHD without medication? I'm in Europe where the laws are different and its haaaaard to access meds. (Immigration is very bad for consistent health care)

Yeah, I mean, caffeine. Caffeine in the mornings and propranolol if I overdo it or have too much caffeine after 1pm. Caffeine has a variable half-life depending on your genetics, so for some people they can have caffeine within about 4-5 hours of trying to sleep and for me if I have it within 9 hours of when I want to sleep I'm a little fucked. (5-9 hours is a relatively typical range for half-life.) Caffeine has active metabolites, which means that as your body processes it to break it down it creates different molecules which are still stimulants, so it's not as simple as "caffeine in, break it down, inert molecule out." You also need to be aware that your brain WILL develop tolerance, so taking drug holidays where you have a chaotic, disorganized day will help when you go back to work.

Another alternative is Strattera, generic name atomoxetine, which gets marketed as a "non-stimulant" ADHD medication. In my opinion it does still have stimulant qualities and the classification has more to do with legal status than medical reality. However, it does have a tendency to cause nausea, so I usually start people low (10mg) and ramp up to 80-100mg, which is target range for efficacy for most people. It doesn't seem as effective as the stimulants but it also doesn't have the legal implications of the stimulants.

Wellbutrin, generic name bupropion, is an antidepressant, but it's not the same as SSRIs or SNRIs--it has its own combination of effects on neurotransmitters that makes it a cousin rather than a sibling drug. It can be used (off-label) for ADHD.

In terms of other things I do to help myself cope, setting and maintaining a sleep schedule is critical. I definitely always feel like I'm being asked to wake up at the equivalent of 3am for other people. This means I need to make sure I go to bed and get up at consistent times, including days off. Bed needs to be for sleeping and intimacy and not for being activated--not for reading, not for hanging out. "Sleep hygiene" is about training your brain that when you go to bed, you go to sleep. The bedroom needs to be quiet, cool, and dark. You can Google sleep hygiene for more information on that.

Learning how to learn was critical for surviving med school. I didn't struggle that much with the material even in grad school, though I was more miserable overall in grad school. The sheer volume meant I couldn't just read everything once and figure enough would stick; I had to read, listen, watch, and eventually I figured out that I really needed to draw pictures and make myself flash cards if I wanted to actually force my brain to retain anything. Making sure I was physically comfortable, including that I was fed, hydrated, and didn't have to pee, was also part of the process. Getting there involved lots of tears and failing multiple tests.

Cleaning can't be an all or nothing proposition or nothing ever gets cleaned. When I start cleaning, I just grab whatever I'm walking by that catches my attention. Fuck doing whole tasks at a time consistently. Move those three bowls to the sink, in the kitchen realize I need to take out the recycling, take out the recycling and realize on the way back in that I have a load of laundry to start, start the laundry and realize I need to pee, while I'm in the bathroom realize I need to clean the counter, clean the counter and realize I need to take out the bathroom trash, take out the bathroom trash and realize I still didn't pee, continue until I'm too tired and then sit down and have a snack and a nap. My house is still a black hole but it's infinitely better than my apartments when I was younger.

Accepting that you can't do things the neurotypical way is a big part of it. Giving up on how things "should" be and recognizing what you can do and how you can do it is critical. I will never stop crashing into things so I've bought rounded furniture that hurts less when I crash into it. I'm slowly designing a life and a home where I'm playing to my strengths, and although it's a work in process, I'm slowly becoming happier.

#the attending dr. kristophine

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pearlywritings · 4 months

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Alive

synopsis: the fall of your homeland is a catastrophe as it is, however, it's not only the home you and your husband lost. It's just a miracle you didn't lose each other.

prompt: 21

requested by: a lovely anon

pairing: Pierro x fem!reader

tw: angst, hurt/comfort, established relationship, pre-Fatui Pierro (he is more open and emotional), topic of pregnancy and children, a couple of my personal headcannons about Khaenri'ah and how the curse affects the body. [...] - is used in places where Pierro and reader use their real names.

word count: 1.3k+ words in total

a/n: part of my Token of appreciation writing event! Closed now, still have 1 more requests to write. Also this fic is from the same AU my other fic is - Behind the wall of falling snow we love. You can check it if you'd like some more

Bright Sumeru sun is blinding and the evergreen forests are dizzying when you look long enough. And yet [...] forces his eyes to take in the life itself blooming in front of him, tired gaze mindlessly following the movement of a red butterfly, flying by. Red. Red, red, red, r e d╴

Khaenri’ahn stars hide behind the eyelids, fingers clenching in a fist unconsciously. So much blood, everything is dirtied by the curse. To this very second he can hardly endure it - two months later and it still haunts him as if he’s back there, at the beginning of the end. Screams, cries, loud screeching of machines, rumbling of collapsing buildings and deafening booming of explosions… It’s hard to forget, he believes he never will. There is blood on his hands yet he hasn’t killed anyone. He only tried to save, but he managed to save only one╴

The one he can’t imagine his life without.

The one the healer is examining behind his turned back. This old man was tolerable, he kept his mouth shut about two refugees from the fallen nation hiding here, above the surface and under the sun. The two previous ones had to go.

“Your wife’s condition is better,” the silver-haired man shivers, torn from his thoughts and finally lets go of the blindfold, dimming the natural light inside this small house you had luck buying. Your love for wearing jewelry and the rules that dictated adorning his mage’s robes in those helped you both survive so far.

“Be more specific,” he demands, returning to the bed, gaze immediately on your body, resting under the covers. Your eyes, equally as mysterious, momentarily dart from the healer to your husband. Before you could even lift a hand resting atop the duvet, he already leans in and slides his palm under yours, squeezing.

“The healing process is complete,” you see the way his breath shakes when your beloved exhales in relief. Fingers flex around yours in a comforting gesture. “I can’t get rid of this curse mark, but I succeeded in eliminating the harm it caused to her internal organs. But,” the wise man looks at you, no longer talking to the man at your side and his gaze turns sorrowful. Your heart stops in fear, knowing what he is about to confirm. “As I said before - I am afraid you won’t have children again. Ever. From what is known of the medicine right now - the closeness of your reproductive organs to the fetus most likely made them more exposed to the damage. On the bright side, I estimate that this factor won’t stop you from continuing living your life. I am still not sure how exactly this ‘disease’ got into your body, however from my observations over you I can state with all confidence - it’s a miracle you stayed alive, dear.”

It’s a miracle you stayed alive.

Big hand squeezes around yours. He doesn’t know yet, that the two of you were cursed with immortality, he doesn’t know yet, that sooner or later even the damage of the severely cursed part of your body would’ve naturally healed either way (not completely, but still). All he knows right now is that there was a possibility of him losing you.

When the healer leaves your humble abode - this one deserves to live - you ask your lover to help you sit, which he does and immediately takes a seat on the edge of your simple bed (it groans a little under his burly mass, but you both ignore it). He still hasn't let go of your hand.

A few moments are spent in silence. You are deep in your own unease, while he is wrecking his head over the way to start the conversation. Gently. He doesn’t want to bring those memories back - how the curse targeted the weakest spot in your body - your womb, how he had to save you, to make a life-changing decision of ridding your body off what was slowly killing you - *your own unborn child*... How he used his best knowledge in healing magic to keep you stable and get you out of the falling land. Everything else is a blur. But everything else doesn’t matter.

All that matters is that you are alive.

“My heart,” he starts slowly, but these two words are enough to gather your attention, “I am relieved to know you are alright. Forgive me my selfish desires, but I can’t fathom a thought of losing you, of spending the rest of my life without you. I ask a lot from you, but, please,” he covers the hand he is already holding with his other one, “I know it’s hard, but I beg you not to forget the happy days we spent together, the love we share,” your gaze falls to the wedding bracelets clasped around your wrists and your heart clenches when you hear desperation in his voice, “and above all, do not let go of your desire to live… For any reason, understood?”

“If you tell me this one more time, I will let go.”

Your abrupt response surprises you. You didn’t mean to lash out, but suddenly it just happened. Is it the brewing pain in your heart? The dull ache and emptiness in your stomach? The settling understanding of the loss and that life will never be the same? You don’t know. You feel too much.

He is taken aback and you notice. Eyes widen and anxiety settles in your heart - have you pushed him away?

"You know you are not guilty, [...]?" Your husband reaches to cup your cheek. You hopelessly cling to it with your free one, leaning into the warm palm, closing your eyes. "At that time nothing else could've been done."

"But if I was stronger, if my body was stronger-"

"But we were not, my heart. It's a cruel reality, but every time I see you I am so glad you were spared. Even if it happened like that."

He knows his words are cruel and he says them to your face now, raw and hurting, but that is the only truth he has. And he is not going to lie to the woman he vowed to treasure.

"Sorry for being rude, I didn’t mean it,” you swallow the lump in your throat, and the man beside you reassuringly caresses your cheek. He understands. “And sorry we have to have this conversation… I am not the only one hurt after all.”

"I am not mad, [...]. And you are the one who’s been hurt the most, so we will return to this topic as many times as you need. I will remind you that none of it is your fault,” his promise is soft and you make yourself believe it. He climbs next to you, wrapping an arm around your waist - gently, almost feather-lightly, - and brings you closer to his chest.

"I just really wish it wasn't our one and only chance to have a family," you snuggle into him, diving into the warmth of his body. "You don't hate me for it, right?"

"Of course I do not. There will never be a thing I'll hate you for."

"Thank you…"

"No, thank you for being alive."

He can feel your lips pulling in a small smile against his chest. He is aware that so little time is not enough to numb the mind and heart to the memories and that this pain is hard to heal - he is sure it never completely will, and even though he is pushing his own despair to the back of his head, he fully shares your hurt. He keeps reminding himself, that you got to stay alive and you are right here, he can see, touch, hold, love you…

And even in the frozen lands of your soon-to-be-destination he’ll continue doing so.

#pearly writing appreciation event #token of appreciation #genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #pierro x reader #pierro x fem!reader #pierro genshin #genshin impact angst

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reimeichan · 7 months

Text

Hey guys.

It does get better.

I know what it's like to be drowning in a sea of trauma and pain. The ocean is so vast and deep and you feel like you'll never get out. You feel yourself sinking more and more into despair, with no end in sight.

I didn't think I would ever make it out. And yeah, I'm still not out of it. I keep getting dragged back under when another wave of depression hits me or I get too close to a traumatic memory that I trigger myself.

But... things have finally become easier.

I've learned how to swim, just a little. I learned some new coping mechanisms, to help me get through the worst of it. Coping mechanisms that aren't going to hurt me in the way my old ones have. I've learned how to recognize and process through my emotions. I've noticed some of my negative cognitions and am actively working on undoing them.

And in the process, I've noticed a lot of things starting to change for me. My window of tolerance for distress has gone up. I can actually notice when I'm in a rough spot, and instead of beating myself up for not being good enough I forgive myself and let myself rest. I have learned how to manage my emotions in a way that they no longer control me. My personal relationships have gone better, as my ability to communicate with others have gone up. I can set proper boundaries and not feel like I'm a terrible person for doing so. And I can enforce those boundaries if I need to.

I rely less on dissociation now, to manage my life. And the things that are still causing me problems, I am working on improving. I have tools to handle my memory issues and resources to help with my time management.

I still have a lot of work to do, of course. I still get triggered, but I know better how to manage myself when I'm in that state. I still have bad times, but they are far fewer than they used to be, and they don't last as long as they used to. And they don't feel as all-encompassing as before. And now... I actually feel like there's an end in sight. It's far out on the horizon and barely visible through all the fog, but I know it's there. And that gives me hope to keep on going.

To everyone else out there struggling: I know how hard it is. And I know how frustrating and futile it might feel, to try so hard and to make what looks like so little progress. But it is so, so worth it. To be able to live life, to enjoy your life and feel like you're thriving and not surviving... I can't really describe it. But it feels wonderful.

I hope that my words can help provide you all with some hope as well. I don't know your specific struggles, but I know you're doing the best with what you've got. Keep at it. And someday, I hope that you, too, can see the horizon.

#dissociative identity disorder #did #actually did #actuallydid #did osdd #osddid #cdd #mental health #positivity #did positivity #by gray #by rose #by green

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downtherabbithole-tumbleedition · 6 months

Note

Sorry for the late reply.

But can I request a playtonic yandere Alduin x daughter Dragon Born reader

Like the reader Dragon soul is his daughter that died years ago but got reborn as a Dragon born dark elf. And when he realized it his daughter reborn he trys to trun her down a dark path and make him Join his side. Please.

And if you can't do it I can think of something else. This just been on my mind lately

Mockingbird

(Yandere! Platonic! Father! Alduin x Dragonborn! Reader)

“And if you ask me to

Daddy’s gonna buy you a mockingbird, I’ma give you the world

I’ma buy a diamond ring for you, I’ma sing for you

I’ll do anything for you to see you smile.

And if that mockingbird don’t sing

And that ring don’t shine

I’d go back to the jeweller who sold it to ya

And make him eat every carat, don’t fuck with dad.”

- Mockingbird, Eminem.

Dragons did not love. Love was for mortals, for lesser beings who lived only a short life where they could freely give their heart to another with no thought of what eternity meant.

Alduin was as old as time itself, the all mighty world eater who cared only for the power he held. Nothing could sway his cold, black heart - not his brothers, the female dovah he laid with, of the endless amount of mortals he devoured.

But you were so tiny, so fragile - one of his nails would have been enough to end your vulnerable little life. And yet, he found himself not desiring your death, perhaps even feeling sick at the thought of it.

The mortal form was an ancient secret among dragon kind, often used to communicate with dragon priests and blend in among mortals when necessary. Alduin despised to use it and thought dragons who used it often to be weak. However, a benefit of such a form was an easier and faster birth for female dragons, perhaps safer as well.

In dragon form, the female would pass the egg as soon as her body allowed, forcing her to guard her offspring for as long as it took to hatch. It could be an especially daunting time, even more so when the female and male hadn’t mated for life. As distasteful as it was, pregnancy was a far safer process for both the mother and offspring if she stayed in her mortal form until the young could leave the womb.

Alduin had never found a dovah worthy enough to be deemed his life partner, but it was awfully satisfying to see how many would throw themselves at his feet just to be mounted by him. Your mother had been one of those - just another female Alduin had fucked and discarded, most likely not even bothering to satisfy her. He had done it countless times, nothing should have been different.

And yet, somehow, his seed had taken root in her womb and made you.

When she came again at his feet, she was foolish enough to believe the seed in her womb would force Alduin to make her his mate.

“Your young is inside me!” She had exclaimed, clutching her stomach, still in her distasteful mortal form. “You and I shall be bound for life!”

He had laughed her at then, a cruel and malicious sound that had snuffed any hope from her eyes, leaving only fear. Alduin did not tolerate insubordination, planning to kill her and the infernal young that grew inside her.

Odahviing, his general and right hand man, had stopped him - much to Alduin’s rage. The general had claimed that killing her would be foolish when Alduin needed an heir, and she seemed the only dovah that had ever been able to carry Alduin’s young successfully.

Alduin was not convinced, countering that he would never cease to exist and, therefore, no heir was needed. Odahviing had his reply, however, stating something along the lines of the bloodline needing to spread if Alduin wanted to rule other worlds.

Although he found it suspicious that Odahviing was fighting so hard to keep the offspring alive, Alduin humoured him - both from the begrudging urge to have young, and morbid curiosity to see if the female would even survive carrying the world eater’s child.

Just as Alduin had suspected, the female did not survive the birth. How could she when you carved your way out from her insides, leaving only a bloody and mangled mess in her place? Begrudgingly, Alduin felt the prick of pride of his young being entering the world with blood on her hands.

He’d planned to kill you, he truly had… but then you looked at him with eyes as red as his own, your cries calming immediately at his touch. So delicate, so trusting.

Every mortal disgusted him but, there you were, born in your mortal form and… disgustingly adorable.

Tomorrow, he told himself every day when the sun set, failing once again to rid you from the earth. Tomorrow the girl will die. But you never did and, before he knew it, you were talking, walking on your own two feet and hanging off the world eaters wings and horns as if he couldn’t kill you in a breath.

“Can we fly now?” You’d always ask him, picking up the ancient language easily from constant interactions with Odahviing and Parthunax. They were the only other living souls he trusted around you, and even that had very quick limits.

“Entitled girl,” he’d grumble, annoyed at your constant requests at him. But, by the end of the day, you were on his back and he was gliding through the air. “I will throw you off if you do not hold on,” he’d threaten. That did not affect you, however, continuously throwing your arms in the air.

Supposedly, you grew bored of “tame” flights in the air, wanting to find your own wings. Alduin’s heart was in his throat when he no longer felt the tiny wait on his back, watching with wide eyes as you plummeted to the ground.

He roared, loud enough to disturb the mountains, chasing after you as fast as his wings would allow. Thank Akatosh he had caught you before you hit the ground. Alduin doubted the world wanted to know what he’d do if he had lost you.

“Are you a FOOL?!” He’d yelled in anger as soon as you arrived home, smoke coming from his mouth due to the rage that rang through him.

“I just wanted to fly, like you,” you replied, far too calm for someone who had practically been on death’s doorstep.

Initially, Alduin had been enraged and frustrated that you had never turned to your dovah form - your true form. The world eater found himself constantly questioning what value you held if you remained in a lesser mortal form ever, wondering if he should kill you and try again.

However, he very quickly became thankful that you seemed unable to become a dragon - after all, you couldn’t leave him if you were entirely reliant on his protection, right? When you grew up and no longer desired to stay by his side at all times, he could simply lock you up in the highest point of the world, away from the all the dangers and unknowns of the world. Your only visitor and protection being Alduin.

After your little jumping stunt, he pondered locking you away from the world early.

“I’m sorry,” you had told him that night, hiding under his wing as you always did when you were scared or sad. “I won’t do it again.”

No, his plan would wait; you weren’t even trying to get away from him yet, why should he make you hate him so soon?

Alduin did not know gentleness or love or affection but he tried his very best to be those things with you, because you relied on him and were the only thing in this world that wasn’t afraid of him. If dragons loved one thing aside from themselves, it was their treasure, and you were the most precious treasure in the world.

But all good things come to an end and any remorse Alduin had inside him was ripped out when the mortals rebelled.

When they took you from him.

He had been so distracted with their rebelling - forcing his hand to the point of anger - that he left his largest vulnerability opened. Someone among Alduin had betrayed him and you were stolen from him. His blood turning to ice when he realised his most precious treasure was gone.

Relentlessly, Alduin and his army had searched the earth for you, burning cities and devouring armies in his unbridled rage. Until you were returned to him, the mortals would know fear like never before.

But when he found you, your head had been stuck on a pike, hanging up like a trophy in one of the mortal camps.

The world burned.

By the time the elder scroll had been used, most of the world had already been destroyed - abolished and devoured by Alduin’s sorrowful rampage, the dragon king running entirely on revenge.

A small part of him wished the mortals had just killed him so he could once again see his precious treasure.

———

About 5000 years later…

They called you a cursed child.

About ten years ago, you had been found by a mercenary, wandering around in the snow in one of Skyrim’s most isolated and dangerous places. Thankfully, he had been one of those honourable mercenaries (as opposed to those who would have sold you) and took you to an orphanage.

You couldn’t have been any older than eight. It wasn’t exactly out of the norm for the people of Skyrim to abandon their children at an orphanage, but a child surviving the harsh dangers of the mountains for divines knew how long… now that was strange. Stranger when you held no memories of your life or family, not even a name.

What really set you aside from the others, however, were your blood red eyes.

Perhaps the mercenary - having seen all sorts of strange things across Skyrim - thought nothing of them but the people at the orphanage certainly had opinions.

“She’s a demon!” One caretaker had exclaimed, pointing at you with a trembling finger and wide fearful, eyes.

“Kill the vampire!” Another had demanded, believing whole-heartedly you were a blood sucker.

It wasn’t long before the guards had been called, many wanting to see you hung for being a “demonic child”. Luckily, the mercenary had vouched for you, explaining that he had traveled with you for weeks and you hadn’t harmed him. As it was, the guards wrote off the caretakers as “emotional women” and left you unharmed - not without some searing glares, however.

Even if they couldn’t have you burned at the stake, the orphanage wouldn’t accept you and they were under no legal obligation to. So, the mercenary took you to Riften at the temple of Mara - where everyone was reasonably tolerable - and the two of you parted ways.

Priest Maramal was nice enough, being a Redguard in Skyrim he was more than used to jeers and harassment thrown his way. You couldn’t complain about the temple, not when you were given shelter, food, and a bed - which was a lot more than some of the people in Skyrim - but you couldn’t sit still, something in your bones told you to explore, to conquer.

By thirteen, you had pickpocketed earned enough money to leave the temple of Mara.

Skyrim was rough, but you adapted fairly easily. You’d always been strong, even as a child, fast too. Due to your sharp tongue (that Maramal often said you needed to hold if you didn’t want to end up dead), you wound up in a lot of scrapes. If you couldn’t fight your way out of them, you could usually run away.

You circled back to Riften soon enough, gaining entry to the Thieve’s Guild due to light feet and quick fingers. You thought you had found a family within the guild but when you were partnered with Vex and there was a spiky situation… she left you for dead. You got out alive - because you always did - but there was an anger towards the Thieve’s Guild you couldn’t contain. You didn’t go back but, one day, you planned to get you revenge.

At sixteen, you’d somehow stumbled your way to getting Astrid’s attention, granting you entry into the Dark Brotherhood family.

It was different from the guild - somehow warmer, more like a family. Astrid was like an older sister, Nazir like an uncle, Veezera like a cranky grandpa. You’d never felt so loved.

But Astrid set you up and, before you knew it, you were in a wagon trailing to the execution block. It didn’t matter; two families had betrayed you (three if you count the first one that abandoned you) and you had nothing left in your heart.

You witnessed something scarier than death that day, however - fear incarnate. Dragons had always been legends but you never believed you’d see one so close. So angry.

Death wasn’t ready for you, it seemed, because you got away.

Not long after, you killed a dragon and absorbed its soul, the myth of the Dragonborn reviving with the dragons. How amusing it was, to watch those nords be outraged at the thought of the “cursed child” being the living version of their most worshipped legend.

They all wished to be the Dragonborn, and yet that honour was given to a girl with blood red eyes and hatred in her heart.

The Greybeards were boring and the Blades were annoying but Parthunax, well, he piqued your interest. Often times, he spoke to you like you were an old friend rather than a naive Dragonborn he had never met before.

It only became clear when Alduin attacked you and Parthunax on the throat of the world, his teeth and flames out for blood.

“Your arrogance will get you killed,” Maramal had often said, when you thought you could do anything. Maybe you should have listened more.

Stupidly, you thought you could defeat Alduin easily. You were, after all, the one thing that could kill him, right? That’s what was foretold so what did you have to be afraid of?

You had used the Dragonrend shout on Alduin, forcing the world eater to the ground. Parthunax had yelled at you to stop but you ran at the black dragon anyways, sword at the ready to slash his throat. It seemed Alduin had adapted much quicker to the shout, though, catching your sword in his teeth and flying up into the sky.

He dropped you.

Honestly, it was a little humiliating that he didn’t even have to use fire or anything of significance… all he had to do was render you useless by dropping you.

Your helmet fell from your face as you fell, unfortunately giving Alduin a perfect view of your helpless and fearful face.

His eyes are red, like mine, you thought, mind trying to escape the thoughts of death. You wanted to scold yourself for being pathetic when a tear fell down your face, realising your life was over before you did anything significant.

Or so you thought.

———

You woke up with a pounding headache, which was strange considering you didn’t recall falling asleep. You groaned with grogginess, snuggling into the comfortable bed.

Wait… I don’t have a comfortable bed.

You bolted upright, heart pumping with fear as you took in the unfamiliar surroundings. The room was huge, larger than courtroom in the Palace of Kings, made entirely of stone and gold. There were books, furniture, decor but it was all extremely mismatched and unfamiliar. As if from an ancient and unknown time.

The oddest thing, however, was that there were only three walls. There was no wall in front of her bed, only a hole big enough for a dragon to fit through.

Why did Alduin save me? You wondered. What could he gain from bringing me here?

You held back a gasp when you heard a noise and saw a man sitting in one of the chairs, staring at you with eyes as red as blood. He stood when your eyes met, taller than anyone else you had ever seen, armour pitch black and spiky.

He looked oddly familiar.

Idly, he looked around the large room with an almost reminiscent gaze. “I should have locked you in here from the beginning,” he muttered with an impossibly deep voice, barley loud enough for her to hear.

You didn’t know what he was talking about but you knew you needed to get out of there. On your left, you spied a gold dagger - not extremely sharp but it should have been enough to injure him.

“Do not try that,” he rumbled when you made the slightest movement, making you whip your head back to him. “Even if you could hurt me, you are far too high up to ever escape safely, little one.”

“Why am I here?” You demanded.

He looked at you then, and you realised, without a doubt, that he was Alduin. That only made the situation even more confusing.

“You are safe here,” he said, as if it was nothing less than a fact. “You can despise me but I will not risk your safety for your happiness ever again.”

“Aren’t you the one who wants me dead?” You questioned dryly, still internally gawking at the fact you were having a conversation with the world eater.

The bastard chuckled. “You really have no idea, do you?”

You only have him a confused look.

“Why would I ever kill my only child?”

Your heart dropped to your stomach, blood turning to ice at his words.

“You’re lying.

“An immortal being has no reason to lie.”

You raced to the gold dagger, gripping it in your hand and throwing at Alduin. He barley needed to move to dodge it, the puny attack having no affect on him.

He left after that, claiming you needed to “calm yourself”. You spent hours exploring the place, restlessly searching for a way out that wouldn’t leave you plastered on the ground.

You didn’t know how long you had been there but eventually, he had come back and you attacked him once more, making him leave again. That cycle repeated itself until you were tired, disheartened by how unaffected he was.

“What do you want from me?” You asked him one day, when you had curled into yourself out of pure exhaustion. He had no answer.

Your numbing limbo changed one day, though. Your armour, light as it was, was stiffening your joints. You stripped out of it, leaving you in the simple clothes you had underneath.

Alduin visited you, like normal, but when you turned your back to him, he roared in anger and his eyes glowed red.

“Who did this to you?” He demanded, voice deeper and louder in his dragon form.

You were confused for a moment, having sported no knee injuries since being abducted. But then you remembered the deep, numerous scars on your back - a reminder of Astrid’s intense training. She once said it was necessary if you were to become strong and you thought she cared about you… but now you wondered if she just always hated you.

Despite yourself, you told Alduin. He was the world eater - evil and deadly, the very thing you were supposed to kill… but he was also the only being who had ever looked upon your wounds, your suffering, and given a damn. And, if he was to he believe?d, he was your father, why shouldn’t you tell him?

It was a strange relief to tell someone else your woes, to unleash the many stories of sufferings and betrayal you had faced. By the end of it, you had tears down your face.

Alduin said nothing, oddly calm. Perhaps, he didn’t care.

“Get on.”

You looked up at him with wide eyes, confused as to what he meant.

“Get on my back.”

Still confused, you listened to him, hauling yourself up onto his back and grasping at his spikes so you didn’t fall.

Flying was exhilarating, freedom like you had never known it. You had the urge to spread your arms and feel the wind but Alduin snapped at you when you did.

“Where are we going?” You asked, having to yell so you could be heard over the wind.

“To get revenge.”

When you had told him what had happened to you, it wasn’t your intention for him to burn down Riften. And by all accounts, you should’ve climbed off his back and fought him, made him stop. But… no one in Riften gave a half damn about you. They saw you as the cursed child, a blight on Skyrim.

There was terrible feeling of glee as you watched the wooden houses burn.

You hunted down the Dark Brotherhood after that, adorning your armour and sword, taking a great joy in watching Astrid choke on her own blood.

You knew this wasn’t what the Dragonborn was made more, quite the opposite, but could you be considered the hero of Skyrim when Skyrim hated you? When all you had been given was betrayal and suffering?

You didn’t just let Alduin get away with drowning the cities in fire and blood, you helped him.

The Blades watched in horror as their noble hero was tainted with the blood of the innocent, the Greybeards mourning the prodigy that never was.

Maybe you should have felt guilt but you didn’t really give a damn.

Your blood told you to conquer, so that’s what you did.

———

Alduin feared his daughter would forever be corrupted with ideas of killing him, that she had been manipulated to the point of no return.

Perhaps he should have thanked Skyrim for being so horrible to her - what was it they said? The child that is not embraced by the village will burn it down Yo feel it’s warmth.

The world eater was filled with pride as he watched you slaughter the mortals, the lesser beings who should have known better than to lay a finger on you. If his pride allowed him, he would have thanked Odahviing for making him keep you alive.

Alduin savoured these moments of rage and fire, devouring with his daughter at his side…. Because it would never happen again.

When you had had your revenge and Skyrim had paid the price for disrespecting you, he’d take you back to that tower and ensure you never left.

Perhaps you’d go back to hating him but how could he risk it? How could he risk losing you after he just got you back? Akatosh had given him a gift of mercy in bringing you back to life, and it was not a gift Alduin would waste.

Perhaps in a few centuries, when you were strong enough to defend yourself and smart enough not to be betrayed, you could go free.

No. Alduin truly didn’t believe he could willingly let you back to those wolves in such a vulnerable state. When you could leave on your own, when you had completed your transformation into a dovah, Alduin would do nothing to stop you from conquering the world yourself.

Of course, Alduin prayed to Akatosh that day would never come.

——

I don’t know how that was but I hope you enjoyed. I feel like I rushed the ending a bit lol.

I took some creative liberty with your suggestion so sorry about that.

#Skyrim #Alduin #platonic yandere #yandere skyrim #yandere #yandere Alduin #dragons #the elder scrolls #yandere x reader #female mc #x reader

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i-cant-sing · 2 years

Text

Just thinking about a deadly disease spreading throughout the RE8 village and reader being one of the unfortunate to get infected. Its a supert painful disease that kills you very slowly. Chances of survival are next to none.

Poor reader is just having the worst time of have her life because this disease is eating her from inside out but she doesn't even have the time to rest or process it because she's still on her mission to find Rose.

Her only comfort is Handsome, the zombie cyborg growing more distressed by the hour. Your skin is turning pale, you're losing weight faster than you're consuming calories, you're feverish, breaths are shallow and you can't even seem to hold your own weight, having to lean on Handsome for support, all while chanting "Rose. Rose. Need to find her."

Eventually though, you pass out in his arms.

Handsome doesn't know what to do other than provide you some very basic care, but it worries him when you don't wake up. So, he caries you towards Heisenberg's factory, where Heisenberg is having yet another argument with Lady Dimitrescu. But they drop it the moment their eyes land on you.

Soon, word spreads to the other Lords as well that you're sick and they're all gathered together to find a cure for you because no way are they gonna let you die.

But it's agonising to watch you suffer through it. You're feverish, in extreme pain, in and out of consciousness and yet you're still incoherently mumbling your sister's name.

As more time passes, your symptoms worsen. The disease feels like its eating up your organs from inside, your head feels like someone is hammering nails in it, and your bones feel like someone is snapping them very slowly.

You may have a high pain tolerance but now, you wanted to much rather die than spend another second through this curse.

So you begged them. You begged them to kill you.

"Pleass- please, just do it. I don't care- I don't care how, but please do it!"

Alcina tried to soothe you. "Sweetie, no. It's gonna be okay! We're finding you the medicine. You're gonna be all good in no time!" She smiled, wiping the sweat off your forehead with her handkerchief, but you knew the truth.

"Y-you're lying- you're lying. You don't have the cure- don't have any medicine for me-" You started coughing, blood staining the rag you'd hacked up into. "I'm gonna die anyways. Why make me suffer through it?"

Moreau shook his head. "No, no! We are working on the cure!"

You chuckled dryly, wincing as your throat hurt. "Yeah? I bet you're gonna propose she turns me into a vampire."

Alcina peeked from under her hat. You shook your head. "Dont bother. If I became one, dad would never accept me."

Silence fell over the room at the mention of Ethan. It was no surprise that they all loathed him, maybe even more now than before.

Heisenberg left the room, his hands shaking in rage. He didn't want you to become a vampire, he didn't. But if that was the only way to save you, he'd do it.

Yet all you could think about was Ethan, the man who abandoned his one daughter in favour for another. He bets Ethan isn't even worried in the slightest about you right now, or trying to track you down.

Donna is going through all of her father's books to find anything useful in it for you, while Angie is crying with the Dimitrescu sisters.

Moreau is testing medicines upon medicines upon other infected people from the village, sighing as he crosses off the drugs as more people die.

Alcina and Heisenberg are both extremely frustrated because of your wish to die. How can they kill you when they've never even imagined of hurting a hair on your head?

You're still a child for fucks sake! You're too young to die, too young to even think about contemplating death.

And it broke their heart to hear you beg for them to do it.

"Handsome?" You called out to the man standing silently in the corner. His drill whirled in response. "Can you do it?"

He walked closer to you, wanting to know what you're asking.

"Can you kill me?" He didn't reply. "I know you can hear me, Handsome. Please, just- you know what? Give me the gun. I'll- I'll do it myself. Yeah, I'll do it-" you cut yourself with another coughing fit and he rushed to give you sine water.

Handsome didn't sleep a wink that night. How could he, when all he could think about was you waking up and picking up a revolver to off yourself. He couldn't trust you to not hurt yourself, not anymore.

After a few more agonising nights, your health started to return, and a week later, you were normal again, and soon you were back on the road to find Rose again with Handsome.

However, you also had many others following you around in the shadows. It was the Lords, because they couldn't bare to be at rest now (or ever again) after all they had seen you go through.

Oof imagine how Chris and Leon would react to a sick reader. Like I can see their anxiety going through the roof, Chris is coaxing you to drink the warm soup and drink your medicine while Leon is threatening one doctor after another to find a cure.

#yandere resident evil #yandere re8 #yandere lady dimitrescu #yandere heisenberg #yandere moreau #yandere donna #resident evil x reader #resident evil village #resident evil 8 #lady dimitrescu x reader #lady alcina #yandere chris redfield #yandere leon kennedy #heisenberg #heisenberg x reader

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