#one thing unrest and sleep have in common is that

[muckyschmuck]

zzzzzzzzzzzzzz

[signedkoko]

Howdy hey, wonderin if i could request a gn reader who has severe nightmares which lead to them having insomia, who can only sleep peacefully when husk is around? Platonic or Romantic is up to you (could be both if you want)

Husk X Reader [Romantic]

In which recurrent night terrors lead to you developing insomnia, and only Husk eases your worries. Reader is genderneutral.

Things were a lot better before going to bed became a chore

It was never an issue your whole life; in fact, sleeping was your favourite part of the day

Until the night, terrors began

One night, fine; two, okay, but as they kept stacking and nights became restless, you found yourself anxious about sleep in the first place

The chances were 75/25 in favour of a nightmare, and that statistic was far too skewed for you to feel at ease in bed

Losing sleep became common; you'd go a night or two without rest before crashing, and then again and again, until you were nothing but a walking corpse

You were pretty good at hiding it, going so far as to use makeup to hide any visual giveaways

But Husk knew; he'd woken up in the middle of the night to you reading or aimlessly scrolling voxtragram

You didn't look serene, only troubled.

One night, when he woke up to you still unrested, he stretched out his wings and pulled you against him

He wasn't all there, being so tired, but he noticed that in a few minutes you were sleeping peacefully, clutching onto him

He tried it again the next evening, though he did it late so you wouldn't catch on that he was doing it on purpose

Husk felt that if you thought he did it in his sleep, you might be less worried about it 'bothering' him

Like clockwork, he will be there to soothe you into rest

Just happy that you are back to your lively self

Besides, he loves having you so close, though he wouldn't tell you that

Author's Note - Starting off smooth and simple, thank you for the request!

[vahalia-cress]

⸸ Mask ⸸

‘I’d go on to other. Another tyrant, a true one.’ ‘I’d likely even enjoy becoming that up until and after someone, maybe you, pulls a blade across my throat.’ ‘I just don’t want it.’

Delicate knuckles lowered to draw along Idalia’s face as she slept.

Within the darkness of the room Vahalia stood centered between the two bassenettes with the twins sleeping within, blissfully unaware of the roils of the world around them. How fractured the family had been, possibly even dating back to Dalmasca.

She had to give herself some credit for trying to keep it all together despite the happenings. And now, Osric sought to take the twins back to Coerthas with him, a blessing both she and Hakan afforded him while also putting things and people in place to assist him with the twins while the Matriarch herself opted to see to wrap up business within Tuliyolall and then Black Water.

‘Vahalia. Trust me on this.’

There was a dull ache twisted into her ribs, one like she had never felt before. There was meaning to this pang but she hadn’t quite figured out why. Always reaching for more than what she was allowed, Vahalia hadn’t been accustomed to the word ‘no’, which made matters all the more difficult to swallow down.

She was desired when it was at a beck and call, the long haul as it were until someone grew uninterested and moved on to other things.

Actions spoke to her in a way where words often contradicted them and as often as she thought she was ilming more and more near to stability, the rug adjusted. Moved. The goal posts forever out of reach.

Perhaps something deep down was the driving force to working so hard to keep things together.

Palpable. Happy.

Not entirely, but one could hope.

It wasn’t as if though any parent wouldn’t want was best for their children. Especially when conversations about having more were on the table.

Hakan didn’t want her offering of him officially being her companion through life, but yet wanted his fingers dipped into Cress affairs which had been something he asked for many, many moons prior. Too much, too little – where was the line?

Tiredly, her eyes lidded and Vahalia adjusted the fleece over the sleeping infants where thoughts eventually brought her to the chair on the open balcony overlooking the shoals. A soft swish of her robe came and she settled into the spot to let the sounds beyond the walls try and lull her into a sense of calm.

She expelled a breath and couldn’t help but smile at her shortcomings, hand reaching to comb through the long loose strands of her hair that had been let down for the evening.

There was a meeting to look forward to. Two in total she would have to see to before returning to Ishgard. Hakan had gone and reached to bridge possible business between a clan in Hingashi and House Cress, a boon to be certain and one Vahalia herself had her interest piqued toward ever since he had told her of the proposal he had made on her behalf.

At least she was being thought of, that was enough to quell some unrest within her core.

Kiarra Ravensong, a name she had never heard but it was expressed that she and the Lady Ravensong had much in common. Outside of business, they both were mothers of twins simply looking to forge ahead. A quality that Vahalia herself could appreciate.

Any hard-working woman for that matter in the face of any adversary. 

The mention of silks possibly being traded would be the fray in the loom. Since she and Cordelia had become exclusive to one another in trading, transport, and textiles it would prove to be a difficult task to manage but one she would have to approach Cordelia about. If anything, Cordelia was an understanding woman and she had a mind for business and dealing as much as Vahalia herself did – there would undoubtedly be a way to keep both pieces of the proverbial pie.

Then there had been mention of Carrera and Carrera possibly having a hand in dealings to come. More fine-tuning, more meetings, more missives, more delegating.

Perhaps it was for the best that the twins were to be with Osric for a stint. It hadn’t been that she never wanted to allow him his time, but simply a matter of worry and letting her only, young children sail away from her care to be what felt like a world away. Despite the sizeable growth House Cress had met within recent years, the state of succession would always be fragile.

Her mind wracked itself with a myriad of things from worry, grief, and disappointment, elated with happiness but plagued by failures.

Some evenings were harder to find rest than others and this evening had been no different. Easing back along the wicker of the chair she gazed above to the well-thatched canopy that hung over the balcony. These days, flourishing felt like drowning and there was no easy way to depict the two.

In the morrow, another day, another mask.

[trickstarbrave]

omegaverse 2 fic. part THREE!!!

part 2 can be found here (it also includes a link to part 1 in the post)

nerevar is not in any real danger. but he certain thinks he is. warnings for a i guess talks of death.

he is doing physically better enough to jack off a little bit though

If Nerevar was thankful for anything, it was his ability to plan. 

Leaving Resdayn was the best course of action, all things considered, but there were many options to flee to. He could have taken a way out through Blackmarsh, but he wasn’t sure surviving in the swamps was going to be easy for them. Sure, he did well on the Bitter Coast, but that wasn’t comparable to the alien home of the argonians. Not to mention, the argonians could be particularly hostile to the chimer, were good at ambushing, and more importantly: the Morag Tong wouldn’t think twice to look for him there.

Nerevar knew it wasn’t just a matter of time of laying low to get House Dagoth off his ass. No, if they couldn’t find him to drag him back for execution, they’d make due with the guild. They were pragmatic like that. They might want a proper execution to make a point, but they would just as easily allow the guild to hunt him and present Voryn with his severed head and heart. 

So Nerevar was instead making his way up north on the mainland, heading to the opposite corner of the country. He hid out in Mournhold for a bit, letting the chaos and crowded streets conceal his presence for a time as he made his plans and bought supplies, before continuing his uneven path to Blacklight.

Skyrim wouldn’t be the most hospitable place. Nords hated elves, after all, but no doubt House Dagoth expected him to take the easy way out and flee to either Cyrodiil or Blackmarsh where they could use the guild. They’d think twice about looking for him in the harsh landscape of Skryim or sending the guild there--they might anger the nords and start a conflict that wouldn’t be worth just securing Nerevar’s life. And he could simply claim in Skyrim that he was the bastard son of a nobody--someone lucky enough to have taken a chimer woman hostage, at least. It was common enough, and if he laid low and stuck to the wilds hunting for the most part, he should be able to survive there long enough for House Dagoth to give up and presume he’s dead. 

After that, Nerevar would be home free. He could go wherever he wanted to, so long as it wasn’t Resdayn. The Illiac Bay, High Rock, Elsweyr.

All he had to do was make it up to Blacklight, and he could cross the Velothi mountains. The biggest issue though would be timing. It had to be before it got too cold, and also he needed to plan around his heat. Normally he’d just count on suppressants for something as risky as this, but they were getting dramatically less effective. Even spending his heat in an inn room didn’t really seem viable; being around others was only exacerbating his worst symptoms. His uncle coming by his room to offer him food left Nerevar wanting to set himself on fire, and strangers constantly prodding him seemed even worse, he imagined.

The biggest issue though was Nerevar was… Slower than expected. As a canvasari he was used to walking long distances across the country, but it seemed the past few months had not been kind to Nerevar. He was sleeping, but woke up feeling unrested. He was still having trouble eating properly, even outside of his heat. Small attacks from wild animals left him recovering longer than he typically did, and no amount of fatigue potions seemed to get him moving any faster. 

Which is why he fell behind schedule of his plans. He should really make a run for it, heading through one of the smaller mountain passes, but the idea of waiting out his heat in a small cave in the mountain pass with no promise of reliable food, clean water, and not getting potentially frozen in there was… 

Well. It was terrifying and stupid. He has only two options: try and wait out his heat in a shitty mountain pass, or hunker down in Resdayn, wait it out, and take the larger pass near Blacklight with more reliable travel. 

Yet, once again, his planning failed him. He was at a town near Blacklight, cold weather settling in, when the tell-tale symptoms of his heat started coming on. Hot flashes, nausea, panic, fear, all of the miserable things he began associating with his heat. 

He managed to buy some supplies, rushing out of town, and finding an old cave to hunker down in. Nerevar tried to be optimistic; it was a good thing his heat had come on a week early. Now he could wait it out, recover a bit, and make his way to Blacklight or another town or city with a mountain pass. He didn’t have to worry about going into it while making the trek through the mountains. 

At least, that was what he attempted at first. Once the heat really set in, Nerevar wished more than anything it would simply stop. The suppressants either weren’t doing anything, or his heat had only gotten worse. Likely both, if he was honest, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t miserable. Even looking at food left his stomach churning. The weather was frigid, but he felt like he was running a fever, and all of his skin burned. At several points he grabbed handfuls of snow just to slather his body in it, trying to calm the burning, but all it did was make him shiver instead. 

And then, when he was at his lowest wishing for death, death finally found him. 

“... Shit, I wasn’t expecting it to actually be him.” A hushed voice said, and Nerevar jolted from his dazed half-sleep. It was familiar, though he was so disoriented from both a lack of sleep and food that he couldn’t place why. Was someone here? A hallucination maybe? 

“We don’t want him running. Send in the guards.”

“Odros even if he runs I doubt he’ll get far.” Nerevar felt his body tense, wanting to flee, but finding no energy to pull himself upright. 

People were close. Multiple people. He had to run, or else he’d be caught. He had to run--now. But somehow all of his limbs felt heavier than lead, and even lifting his head and squirming around was a struggle. 

Footsteps approached next, Nerevar’s vision hazy. Someone touched him gently, but the touch felt like knives on his skin, making him snarl and growl in a weak attempt at protecting himself. They sighed, before tilting his head back, pressing a bottle to his lips.

“Drink. It’ll help.” Nerevar’s lips formed a tight line, nausea making his face go pale and head swim again. The potion smelled sweet and bitter at the same time, a disgusting combination to his sense, his body objecting to the idea of downing it. Another sigh, before Nerevar felt a spell in their hand washing some of the nausea away, before the potion was fed to him forcibly. 

He coughed and choked, but they continued pouring it in, making him drink. The painful burning began to fade, and the restlessness that had been keeping him awake the past two days finally subsided, along with more of the nausea.

“There we go,” They said, “Stubborn s’wit.” Before Nerevar found his arms being bound behind his back, another growl ripping through his throat as he squirmed.

“It’s for your own good.” One of the people tying him said. “We can’t risk you running again, Nerevar.” His vision was still unfocused and blurry, before a hand touched his forehead.

“Why don’t you sleep for a bit?” And with that, his vision turned black, and his body slumped, completely unconscious.

--

When Nerevar awoke, with a slightly clearer mind, he realized how dire his situation was.

His thoughts were still muddled, but he did actually manage to get a semi-restful sleep in the back of the cart he was in, though his body felt weak and he still had no strength in his limbs. But the blankets and pillows in the cart were of a familiar color and pattern, all smelling faintly of the incense of House Dagoth, and even more faintly of Voryn.

He’d been foolishly caught by House Dagoth, something that made him want to curl up in shame.

Nerevar debated trying to break out and make a run for it, but he knew that wouldn’t do him any good at the moment. For one, he didn’t have a lot of optimism for his ability to break out at the moment. His hands were still bound, his body still felt weak, and not to mention, they took his weapons and most of his supplies, leaving him with only the essentials in the cart. 

Nerevar buried his face in a cushion that smelled particularly like Voryn, frustrated, antsy, and still dizzy. He tried to find a way out of it, his mind racing, but he was coming up empty.

Briefly, he remembered what they said about those born under the thief sign: incredibly lucky, until they weren’t. They were doomed, inevitably, to have that luck run out and their lives cut short. 

He supposed it was fitting, in the end. The past six months--half a year of suffering--had been nothing but bad luck. Healers that couldn’t help him, House Dagoth ordering his execution on top of the existing exile, the fact his illness wasn’t seeming to get any better… And to top it all off, he couldn’t get away fast enough. He was caught, tied up, and was being dragged back to Kogoruhn. At least Nerevar could hope that his heat would be over when they executed him. 

At the revelation this was really the end, his body slumped, numbness settling in again.

As pathetic as it was to lay down and accept death, Nerevar didn’t know what else to do. He didn’t think he could go up against Vemyn and Odros as weak as he was right now--he’d just get killed for trying. He didn’t know how he could escape and hide either; he was moving too slowly to get any distance between them, and being in heat would make that attempt all the more miserable. They’d likely find him all over again before he got far. 

Though perhaps… Nerevar simply wanted this to be over. Even if he did run away, even if he did make it to Skyrim, was that really going to be any better? Skyrim had worse magic users and healers than Resdayn as far as he knew; he didn’t expect them to find a cure for him, and it would likely be many more months--even years--until he could make it out of the country to see a different healer more familiar with elven physiology. Every heat he was getting worse and worse, his condition deteriorating rapidly. If not for the weird potion they forced him to drink, Nerevar imagined he’d still be pleading for death to take him. 

All Nerevar could do, in the end, was hope that his death didn’t crush Voryn as much as he thought it would. He hoped Voryn would be fine in the end; the dust would settle, he would mourn and then move on. 

“Alright brat,” Vemyn scowled, opening the cart’s door, making Nerevar jump and hiss at the bright light hitting him. “It’s time to eat.” He plopped down saltrice porridge with some meat on top. A typical meal on the road, but the very sight and scent had him nauseated. 

Nerevar turned his head from it, instead burying his face in the pillow that smelled like Voryn, breathing deeply in an effort to keep from dry heaving. 

“Oh don’t act stubborn like that.” Vemyn rolled his eyes. “I’ve made Voryn eat when he was throwing a fit too, I can make you eat.” 

“Please don’t…” Nerevar moaned, feeling a disgusting, hot feeling climb up his throat, a tell-tale sign of intense nausea as his stomach turned. “Please, please I don’t…”

Vemyn took this protest as one of defiance though, taking Nerevar by the jaw, grabbing a bit of roasted meat. Nerevar closed his mouth tightly, skin burning again at the unwanted contact, tears stinging in his eyes as he twisted them shut. Regardless of how much he protested though, Vemyn managed to pry his mouth open, forcing the food inside, and Nerevar immediately began gagging and retching. Impulsively, Vemyn dropped him as Nerevar spat the food out, before throwing up bile for good measure, his body shaking and trembling uncontrollably. 

He almost face planted right into his own vomit if not for Vemyn grabbing him again, swearing under his breath.

“Shit,” 

“I told you not to make him eat.” Odros called from outside.

“He looks like shit, he needs to eat!” 

“Omegas are different from alphas.” Odros snarked back.

“Well what do you want me to do, let him waste away back there?” Honestly, Nerevar would prefer it. What did it matter if they fed him? He was going to die anyway. He wouldn’t starve to death by the end of his heat, and they could just keep dragging him to Kogoruhn.

“The healers can look him over when we get back to see why he’s not eating.” Vemyn still pulled him from the cart, as much as Nerevar protested it. He grabbed the pillow in a futile effort to keep himself inside; the enclosed space was much better than being out in the open, at least instinctively. But Vemyn just tossed Nerevar over his shoulder, pillow and all, and walked out, instructing the guards to clean it. 

Nerevar was then plopped by the fire, shaking and trembling, but to his surprise Odros wrapped a blanket around him, covering his body and face. Maybe it was just because the man didn’t want to look at Nerevar, but to Nerevar it was a blessing. The blanket was soft, and smelled more like Voryn too, slowly putting him at ease. 

A restlessness came then, the desire to run out into the wilderness and head for Kogoruhn himself, his legs shifting under the fabric eager to take off. 

Ah, he wanted to see Voryn. He wanted to see him so badly it was hurting, his chest aching. His teeth were clenched from how badly he wanted him, his thoughts only on Voryn and all the little things about him Nerevar missed. The way his hands would often have ink or charcoal stains when he was up late studying, how he always preferred a mild tea blend with honey (that had to be imported, a little indulgence he couldn’t go without), the way his laugh carried and rumbled in his chest… 

“Here,” Odros stuck a potion bottle under the blanket. It was the same pinkish colored potion he remembered from when they found him, however vaguely. Was it an even stronger type of suppressant? If so, Nerevar would take it. It didn’t matter if it was also unhealthy for him or even poisonous after all; he was going to die anyways, though he didn’t enjoy the idea of eating anything with how sick he felt. 

Nerevar uncapped it, his stomach turning, before he closed his eyes. He imagined Voryn was there, pressing the potion bottle to his lips, gentle voice coaxing him to drink. Nerevar began drinking, groaning in displeasure at the taste, nearly gagging at one point, before he managed to down most of it. It coated his tongue in a way that left him feeling more nauseous, but slowly the restlessness and burning once again faded, leaving him slowly starting to feel… Relaxed. 

“It’s clean.” One of the guards announced, though Nerevar could tell in his voice he was annoyed at having to do so. Nerevar didn’t really know why they bothered either, if he was being honest. It didn’t matter if a prisoner being dragged back to the stronghold for execution had to ride for several days with his own vomit, did it? 

“Alright,” Vemyn then picked Nerevar up again, still wrapped in the blanket, holding him under his arm like a bag of rice. Nerevar had half a mind to bite him, but luckily couldn’t manage from underneath the blanket. “Back in you go.” He then plopped Nerevar back onto the pillows, earning a growl. 

“Glad he still has some spirit.” Vemyn added as they locked the cart once more. Nerevar freed his head, once more wishing he had bitten Vemyn.

“Asshole…” Nerevar muttered under his breath, before curling back up with the blanket and cushion, trying to get comfortable. 

“He has some saltrice crackers, let him snack on that until we get back.” Odros stated. 

“Omegas are so annoying like this…” Vemyn grumbled. “Whatever. We need to head back quickly. He can eat in Kogoruhn then.”

Nerevar wondered how long he’d be alive then to eat there. Maybe they’d give him a last meal? It was hard to say. Perhaps they wanted an official trial, though it seemed odd given how House Dagoth didn’t usually bother unless the situation was particularly murky. There was nothing really vague about what happened with Nerevar. He agreed to spend his heat with Voryn. He had sex with Voryn. Voryn tried to claim him. 

Ah, even thinking about it had Nerevar rubbing his neck, a shiver running through him. Maybe he should have let Voryn just claim him. It would have felt good, at least. The feeling of being claimed was supposed to be an orgasmic rush, and everything falling into place, at least for a moment. If he was going to be punished anyways, he should have just gone for it. Let them hate him and kill him for something he actually did, not something that almost happened. 

His hips were squirming at the thought, a shiver of desire running through him. He hadn’t been able to masturbate his last heat; he was too miserable to even try, but now that the restlessness and burning had subsided he found himself oddly aroused. He buried his face even further into the blanket as one hand slipped into his trousers, stroking and rubbing against his cock. 

“Ah~” Nerevar moaned softly, muffling it with the fabric. Sparks shot up his spine as he once again imagined being claimed, his other hand stroking at the spot Voryn almost bit him on. The pleasure wasn’t enough; gods he missed Voryn’s hands on him--even just his fingers was enough to get Nerevar off sometimes, and that was to say nothing about his cock or his mouth--

Nerevar’s eyes rolled back at the memory, rubbing faster as his breathing quickened. 

Voryn’s mouth on him, tongue lapping at him and moaning obscenely as he whispered and moaned about how good Nerevar tasted, before his tongue slipped up and rolled around his cock. His lips closed around the nub too, suckling gently at first, increasing pressure as his fingers thrust in and out of Nerevar, rubbing at his sweet spot…

His body trembled as he came suddenly, no doubt pent up from six months of being unable to get off, a strangled groan falling from his lips. And then, just as soon as the bliss washed over him, tears started to fall from his eyes, only frustrating him more.

He didn’t want to cry. Nerevar was fucking sick of crying. He had finally just felt good after so long, at least for a brief moment even if his nausea wasn’t going away fully. And now here he was, spoiling the moment himself, crying. 

Gods he missed Voryn. The longing seemed to only get worse after his orgasm, as he curled back up with the cushion and blanket. He wanted Voryn to scent him again. He wanted Voryn curled up with him, holding him tightly. He wanted Voryn kissing him and whispered to him. He missed the safety and security of Voryn’s arms.

He never quite felt this way before. Certainly he enjoyed spending time with Voryn before--Nerevar loved his laugh, all his weird little habits, the way he twirled his rings when he was nervous, the soft tender smile he reserved for very few people, one of which was Nerevar himself…

He didn’t know what it meant. All he knew was it hurt to think about how he’d never be able to have it again. 

--

Nerevar had been under the impression they were going to drag him all the way to Kogoruhn in a cart. It made sense, honestly; why bother with teleportation for a prisoner? But upon overhearing the guards talk, they weren’t going to head for a port to take a boat to Vvardenfell, and were instead heading to Blacklight for the propylon chamber. 

It was weird. They were in a rush to execute him, but were talking about keeping him long enough to feed him and let a healer look at him. Were they afraid he might die before standing trial? Possibly. Did they need something else from Nerevar? Not that he could think of, honestly. They kept most of his things and he didn’t have much value they could extract from him directly. If they wanted compensation from House Mora they could simply demand it with his head or shake down his uncle, couldn’t they? Maybe the cart and animals were on loan from House Redoran and they were eager to return them before they incurred any more debt, but House Redoran weren’t as cutthroat about money like Hlaalu or even Dres were. 

They were rested again, having made camp, Nerevar still curled up in the locked cart. By tomorrow they’d reach Blacklight. By around noon they’d no doubt be teleporting to Kogoruhn, where… Who knows what awaited him. 

He did realize he knew one of the guards. Not a canvasari, but an actual, proper guard in House Dagoth. The guards hadn’t been talking to him much; again, Nerevar couldn’t blame them. For starters, an omega in heat wasn’t one for much conversation. For another, he was a prisoner--why bother conversing with a prisoner? They could heckle him a little, sure, but he supposed they wanted to behave given they were traveling with nobility. 

Dagoth Beryl: fairly humble guard, less stuck up than most. Sometimes on trips where negotiations were important he was the official escort of Voryn or whichever Dagoth brother they were taking. Nerevar mostly protected items, after all, and being a proper guard of a noble required more intense training and education. For one, it couldn’t be done by outsiders; you needed to be an official member of the house, hence why Nerevar never got it. Outside of that you also needed etiquette training, education on politics, knowledge on poison antidotes and healing magic… Sometimes you were even required to taste food first to make sure it wasn’t poisoned. 

Again, not really the job Nerevar was cut out for. He could kill well, but he wasn’t skill in medical care or restoration magic, nor did he really care all that much about etiquette most of the time. House Dagoth had enough personal guards anyways, but were always in need of damn caravan guards. Most canvasari were flakey, ill mannered, and traveled from place to place in hopes of finding work. Nerevar was one of the few regular canvasari, someone that was reliable to have on hand.

Or well, he was. Not anymore after he seduced their heir completely unintentionally. Once again, Nerevar wished he had gone further and pushed for more. He would have at least earned all the shit he suffered through. Azura’s mercy, he probably would have suffered less because they would have just killed him faster! And he would have enjoyed it more! 

Beryl was the guard on duty for the night, and the potions they kept giving Nerevar were helping. He didn’t know what they were exactly--he was still in heat, and still struggling in many aspects, certainly enough that he couldn’t run away--but they were helping him not want to die if someone else so much as looked at him or spoke to him. He was even able to nibble on the saltrice crackers more reliably without getting nauseous, though anything more than that had his stomach churning in protest. 

“How does House Dagoth usually execute people?” Nerevar asked. A bit out of the blue, but he didn’t see a point in beating around the bush. They all knew why he was here, after all. He could start with small talk and work his way up to dropping the question, but it wouldn’t really soften the blow much for either of them. 

Nerevar knew he was going to die. They knew he was going to die. He figured he might as well ask how.

Beryl was quiet at that, falling absolutely silent. 

“Uhm,” Beryl began, “Normally in House Dagoth… Someone is simply killed for their transgression immediately.”

“And if there was an official execution?” Again, the guard was quiet. Nerevar couldn’t see him, but the tone of voice told Nerevar he was uncomfortable. Probably because it was a dark subject matter

“... I believe…” He continued, voice still hesitant, “ I think the official process is that they’re giving a poison that swiftly stops the heart,” he paused again, “And then they’re decapitated for good measure.”

Nerevar knew that poison. Voryn had brought it up once or twice. Every Great House had their own specialty poisons--though House Telvanni likely had too many to even count. This one was a colorless, extremely bitter liquid used on political enemies when they needed something fast and effective. First it quickly knocked the victim out, putting them to sleep so they couldn’t fight or vomit it back up, and then very quickly worked to stop their heart entirely. Within a minute they would be dead, passing without much hassle. It was important for him as heir to understand how the potion was made, keep its recipe a closely guarded secret, and also have antidotes on hand in the event someone tried to use it against him. 

It was, like all things in House Dagoth, fast and effective. Other houses delighted in torturing political enemies: selling them into slavery, extensive torture, whipping them until their bones were visible on their backs, or even nailing them to stakes out in the wilderness while guards watched animals come to eat them alive--or failing that, they died of exposure in the sometimes harsh climate of Resdayn.

It wasn’t a bad way to go, in all honesty. They could certainly do worse, and still might if he was being honest. They could give him the poison right now, but were probably waiting to drag him back to make a point of it, or because they thought Nerevar might have answers of what disease he gave Voryn. 

Nerevar could just tell himself it was a sleeping potion. He was having trouble sleeping lately, after all. He was back ‘home’ in Kogoruhn, just laying down to sleep, and when he woke up he could see Voryn again. Something nice as he faded into oblivion; a sweet lie to bring himself a bit of comfort. 

The numbness in his body spread at the revelation, static in his veins and his head even more foggy. Maybe thinking about it was bad for him. But he at least had a plan to make his death a little more bearable. 

“... Thanks.” Nerevar replied, before once again going silent.

[papermatisse]

Solace || B.JY

† genre: horror, fluff?

† word count: 5.4k

† warnings: extreme stalker behavior, paranoia, betrayal

† synopsis: when the world seems to be entirely against you, sometimes all you need is a comforting set of arms and whispered reassurances to get you by.

† (a/n): fourth installment of spooktober anthology! stalkers freak me TF out :)! this is also the longest one thus far 👌. enjoy!

† taglist: @scuzmunkie @hipsdofangirl @hydroyaksha

anthology | masterlist

The life of a star is never purely the glitz and glamor they portray it as being, and the same goes for social media influencers. Not that she'd compare herself to a star, because she was anything but. Just an average nobody who managed to post pretty, aesthetically pleasing pictures that appealed to the masses. Though aside from the few hundred thousand people who awaited for her next update, she lived her life just as normally as anyone else. Wake up, go to work, go home. If she was feeling especially daring, perhaps she'd take a different route home just to experience something new. Her free time was spent traveling with her friends and gaining new experiences in life, all the while taking pictures to document her memories forever.

Perhaps things started changing around the time she grew more comfortable with her platform. She'd perfected the art of showing, not telling. Her brief stories were enough to sate the curiosity of her followers, though still maintain her overall privacy. She'd even grown comfortable slapping on the locations of her travels—albeit, she'd post them after she left.

At first, it was mundane. A simple acknowledgement of profile names she recognized as being veteran followers. She'd look out for their sweet comments or if they tagged her in any content. Sometimes she'd even invite them to her live sessions for simple one-on-one chats. There really was no indication of any ulterior motives.

The first time she sensed something off was after having had dinner with her friends, as she scrolled through the comments of her latest post featuring said meal. A single comment amidst the sea of a thousand others, seemingly unassuming at first glance, though enough to stir a feeling of unrest within her.

"The picture doesn't capture how absolutely tender your steak really was."

It left a lingering thought in her mind as she went to sleep that night. It's a common statement, and one she's heard quite a few times, though in the context of meeting someone in person. They usually like to comment something nice like "your pictures do you no justice," or something along those lines. Hearing this comment online, and not even about herself, just felt… off. Though she tried not to dwell on it. There will always be a shroud of ambiguity when conducting communication online. It's a facet of this life that she must consider at all times.

Though as time progressed, the strange occurrences seemed to only intensify from that point on—all deriving from the same username.

DanteanNomad.

She recalled the name towards the start of her account, though he never actually spoke. That comment of her dinner was his first interaction with her. The first of many, so it seemed.

He had begun leaving comments on every new post she made, each comment just barely skimming the gossamer thread of suitability.

"You have such a captivating presence, even in the virtual world."

"I find myself coming back to your profile long after you've posted, just because you're always on my mind."

"I'm always eager to see what you'll share next. It's like a little window into your world."

He even comments in her lives, yet somehow only she seems to be wary of his approaches. No one else seems to notice. Her friends have merely suggested blocking or reporting him, yet something deep in (y/n) knows that won't do her any good. Especially after a certain post she made garnered yet another comment from this person.

"The blue sweater was a good choice."

It was his most unsettling comment. It was mundane like everything else he says, though the underlying connotations were beginning to surface in her mind. Because how else would he have known that she spent nearly an entire hour debating on wearing it before finally opting to do so? And through the gut wrenching anxiety which twisted her insides and tormented her heart, she successfully blocked him.

At least that's what she thought happened. However, he continued to appear on her account, as if her countermeasure did absolutely nothing to deter him. Neither blocking, nor reporting, nor even calling customer support for assistance. Nothing seemed to rid her of this plague upon her life.

His words were beginning to get to her, and she felt herself sinking into a dark chasm of paranoia. As if nowhere was safe for her anymore. As if her own walls seemed to be only a mode of voyeur for his own sick delight. It left her seeking an answer to her anxieties, worriedly searching her home with a wooden bat at the ready, yet coming up empty. Not even a secret camera nestled in any dark and unassuming nooks of her room. Yet these precautions did not sate those paranoid thoughts consuming her.

"How about we host a party?" Belle suggested, hope in her voice as the group of friends sat together at a cafe. "A little house party at my place! Just us. We'll invite some trusted friends and colleagues. Just let loose, without the worries of being in a public place?"

The group slowly turned to (y/n), nestled in the corner of the booth, sipping away at her beverage whilst nervously considering the proposition. Her friends had been nothing but supportive, albeit with a touch of skepticism in their mannerisms. They didn't see the cause for concern in it all, but they saw (y/n) and how the occurrences ate away at her. To them, she was perhaps going through a minor mental breakdown and needed all the support she can get.

So while the prospect of a party made her incredibly uncomfortable, especially during such a strenuous time as this one, she could see where her friends were coming from. She could see their attempts at a compromise. They wanted to bring her relief in the only way they knew possible, which was having fun and forgetting your worries. The thought was touching, even if the idea of a party brought a subtle edge to her disposition. She didn't want to be a damper on their fun. She didn't want to be the driving force to expel her friends from her life.

And so she found herself, rather unwillingly, nodding along to their idea.

With the party in full swing, (y/n) attempted to blend in with the other participants. Some faces she recognized, others she didn't. Names had begun to blur into one, and she found it more and more difficult to keep track of the attendees with every new introduction she received.

Sooner rather than later, she found herself slipping out the sliding glass door onto the balcony. The cool night air was a comforting presence on her overheated body, sharply contrasting with the sheen of sweat residing over every square inch of revealed skin. With the full moon hanging overhead,she allowed herself to drop her defenses, body weary from being on edge the entire night. The thought of leaving revolved around in her head, and she toyed with the idea, amusing herself with silly schemes of escaping under the surveillance of her friends.

The sound of the sliding glass door jostled her from her thoughts, defenses building up once more as she turned around and prepared herself for the battle of socializing.

"Hey," the man greeted, gently nodding her way. He was another familiar face of many. A friend of a friend's, no doubt. While she wanted to dismiss him, she knew he meant well.

"Hello," (y/n) responded meekly, nervously tapping a finger against the red cup in her hands. The man gave her space, which she was rather grateful for, as he approached the railing of the balcony and leant against it.

"Taking a break?" He continued, staring out into the city. Whilst his eyes lingered elsewhere, he carried that air that his undivided attention was upon her.

"Yeah." He never turned to her, and so she followed his lead, staring out at the city below. Though unlike him, her resilience was much weaker, and she continuously kept glancing his way. "You, too?"

"Just a little break. Never hurts to lay low for a few minutes. Get off the freeway and do a little drive."

Such a simple analogy, one that seemingly pertained to solely the party, though she couldn't help but gape slightly at his words. They seemed to transcend the immediate situation and coincide with her exact predicament. And the subtle dose of validation had her defenses weakening by the minute.

"Yeah, I get that. I get that a lot actually." Her voice wavered as her emotions seemed to take over, doing everything in her power to hold the onslaught of tears threatening to be released. The last thing she wanted was to startle away this kind stranger with a sudden bout of crying. Though he was just full of surprises she wasn't prepared for.

"Hey. Hey, it's alright. You're okay." His voice was soft, retreating from the railing in favor of comforting her any way he could. He hesitated in touching her, hands hovering over her body, though his presence alone seemed enough for her defenses to all but crumble as the first sob broke through. And then the next. And soon she was full blown weeping into this man's chest, burying her face into his dark sweater and releasing all of her pent up frustrations.

His arms around her were a comforting constant, rubbing up and down her back and holding her tightly against him. She felt… safe. For the first time in a long while, she didn't feel eyes upon her or the paranoia that someone was attempting to infiltrate her space. It was just her and him. And she couldn't have been more grateful.

"I'm sorry," she mumbled, hands grasping at his top in desperation, not wanting this reprieve to ever end. He seemed to understand as he just shushed her and drew her closer.

"It's okay. You're okay."

She didn't know for how long they stood there for, rocking back and forth in this calming trance-like state. As if slow dancing to the acoustics of the cityscape below them. And it was all she could have asked for.

"Thank you. For everything." A final sniffle on her part, and she hesitantly shifted to look up at him. "I don't know your name." He let out an amused huff, arms still wrapped around her body, though retracting just enough to meet her curious gaze with his own delighted one.

"Jinyoung."

The coming days were a mix of ups and downs which rattled the very fabric of her life. Any semblance she may have attained had been washed away with the torrential events succeeding that of the party.

On the one hand, following that very night on the balcony, (y/n) found herself more than grateful to have met Jinyoung. Sweet, attentive, dedicated Jinyoung.

He filled her days with kind messages, reminders she was not alone in this and that he was always there for her whenever she needed him. It was a comforting sentiment, waking up to texts from him and then going to sleep on call with him. He'd send lovely pictures to her, like a dog he passed by on a walk, or the setting sun from the view of his apartment. As if saying he thinks of her in everything he sees.

Jinyoung through his ceaseless attention upon her proved how truly little her friends seemed to acknowledge her and her situation. The way he provided his undivided attention whenever (y/n) deemed to speak on the subject was further proof that her friends had merely granted her a percentage of the help she needed. She realized she was venturing into dangerous ground, though she couldn't deny the feeling that Jinyoung was perhaps the only person she really needed in this lifetime.

And he continued to prove that with every thoughtful action of his.

Though even with this brief reprieve, the plight seemed to only spiral more out of hand than ever initially conceived.

Again, it started out covert. Live streaming with her fans when she accidentally broke a vase of hers. It was entirely circumstantial, and she laughed it off for the viewers, even if she was disappointed in the cute decor she had picked out herself when first moving in.

Within a matter of days, however, the once demolished vase she presumed she'd never see again was found at her doorstep, neatly tucked away into a box. Pristine and brand new.

Her friends all praised the mystery fan who sent it, commenting on how sweet it was of them to do so, but (y/n) grew even more uncomfortable, as all she had ever shown of that vase was a single shard when it broke. There was no possible way for someone to know the exact item she once had.

Her suspicions were soon being proven with the first sighting of a photograph in her mail. Photos of her house. Photos of the cafe she frequents. Photos from her friend's house where the party was just a few weeks ago. All information she's never revealed online before.

The next set of images was that of her in her day to day. Walking with her friends at the park, reading at the cafe, even shopping at the grocery store. Images taken from afar, though unsettlingly close enough that she could have very well seen them had she looked around.

At this point, her friends were now growing wary of the situation, understanding the severity of it all as it had gotten this out of hand. Jinyoung was the one to suggest the cycling method. One person stays with (y/n) at all times. Whether it be staying over at her house or spending the day with them elsewhere, she would always be monitored by one of them.

Surprisingly, they all agreed, and the rotations soon began. Just as Jinyoung had planned, one person would take night shift, and when the next would show up for their shift, they'd leave. Things seemed to work swimmingly, and (y/n) felt more comfortable than she had in ages. She began reducing her time online, as well, keeping her online presence even more professional and disconnected than ever before. If there was anything she was doing to feed this person's delusions, she wanted to put an end to it as soon as possible.

"Where did you go?" Jinyoung asked from where he sat on her couch, eyes remaining on the screen where their movie was still playing.

"I went to get the mail before it got dark," (y/n) responded, pressing her back against the door to close it as she made her way back to the living room with Jinyoung. She shuffled through some junk mail and a few letters from fans before landing on a small mailer package. There was nothing attached to it. No return address or indication of any shipping company, nor did she recall ordering anything recently.

Absentmindedly, thoughts still wandering on the subject of what she could've purchased, she peeled back the sticky opening, reaching in to retrieve the item. Though as her fingers grazed a suspiciously familiar material, she retracted, eyes widened as fear began to settle in once more.

The fabric was unmistakable. Something that had been lingering in her mind for quite some time now, and she both wanted to confirm her fears though also run away from them.

Tentatively, she tilted the package her way, peeking into the mailer for a mere second before a gasp ripped forth from her throat, tossing the offending object across the room.

"(y/n)?" Jinyoung was immediately by her side, movie abandoned as he focused on the panicked girl hyperventilating and staring at the thrown package. His hands wandered about, brushing back her hair, stroking away her tears, squeezing her shoulder, anything to get her back to reality. "(y/n), talk to me. What's going on?"

She was silent. Her throat had constricted upon itself. The room seemed to sway in this infinitesimal spiral, as if her body wanted to shut down, though her brain refused to go unconscious. This painstaking tug of war that left her absolutely deteriorated.

There was a momentary lapse in her demeanor as Jinyoung's presence anchored her to reality. His soft and warm touch grounding her when she could have drifted off long ago. His sweet whispers murmured into her ear, drawing her away from the accursed object lying at the other end of the room. And she was once more glad to have Jinyoung by her side, lulling her to a rare yet ever so peaceful slumber.

When she wakes up, she'll explain it to him. She'll explain how weeks ago, as she did her laundry, she realized her favorite undergarment had all but disappeared. She'll explain how she searched high and low yet couldn't find it anywhere. She'll explain how she briefly forgot about it from how long it's been.

She'll explain how she finally found them—in an anonymous package delivered to her.

"Is this the last of it?" Jinyoung's voice sounded from behind (y/n) as she stood amongst a sea of boxes. A quick scan of the room, listless and barely even acknowledging anything, she turned to Jinyoung with a nod.

"Yeah… That's all of them."

"Are you sure?" He asked again, stepping into the room to stand beside her. She looked around again, though now she felt even less concentrated on the matter as his gentle touch once more rested on her, warmth penetrating through her sweater and stirring a sense of comfort in her conflicted mind.

Another nod, along with a brief and assured smile, and Jinyoung finally seemed sated. He glanced around alongside her, eyes scanning the many boxes scattered about his guest room.

"We'll get to packing after we eat, yeah? What would you like?"

"You can order whatever."

"I want to eat what you want to eat."

Her cheeks warmed under his attentive gaze, muttering something about giving her time to think as she wandered out into the main living area of his apartment—of course, with Jinyoung in tow.

As if he hadn't done enough for her as is, the moment that horrid package arrived at her home, Jinyoung had all but insisted she live with him. At least for the time being. Until she can find her bearings. Find a solution to this ordeal.

It had taken some insisting on his part, as she didn't want to burden Jinyoung anymore than she already had. He urged her into accepting, anguishing over the possibility of her being harmed while he's not there for her. How tormented he'd feel if she were to ever get hurt. And no matter how much she wanted to reject his proposal, insist that she could return home to her parents whilst she figure out the ordeal, she felt compelled to accept his offer. His soothing warmth encompassing her as she wept into his chest, the low timbre of his hushed voice quelling her frightened soul. Jinyoung felt like safety.

His apartment reflected his personage well. As if a perfectly crafted haven for her. Decorating which fit her tastes to a tee, kitchen stocked with all of the foods she loved to eat, even her favorite candle scent filling the air whenever she walked around. Her room as well carried this sense of home with it. Even with the swarm of boxes stacked within it, it felt like she belonged there.

All of this was only a mere factor of her new happy living situation, as the primary source of that security came with Jinyoung's presence. Those texts she had always loved receiving now transitioned into little sticky notes everywhere. Reminders to eat and take care of herself, to text him when she wakes up, silly jokes to brighten up her day. And when he'd arrive home to see her seated at his couch, the mirthful smile that would spread on his face all but melted her heart. The grins he'd give her as they cooked dinner together, watched movies together, existed as one together.

Perhaps that's why she wasn't too shocked when Jinyoung one day asked her to be his.

A sweet and simple declaration of love. With full stomachs and wine muddled minds, he professed how he felt whilst they sat in the living room, movie long forgotten as their conversation hit uncharted waters. His thumb smoothed over her knuckles, eyes ardently staring into her own as he spoke. It was undeniable now how smitten she was with him, something she hadn't truly processed with all that had been conspiring in her life. Though now with the light of the moon seeping into their home, intermingling with the warm orange glow of the lamps, movie droning on as mere white noise in the background, and Jinyoung's adoration practically radiating off of him in waves, she felt it near impossible to reject him. A shy smile and a whispered acceptance, their fates were sealed with a deep and passionate kiss.

A whirlwind romance that seemed too good to be true. Sticky notes exchanged for morning whispers and good night kisses. Cuddles on the couch, Jinyoung's soft and tender touch lulling her into a state of tranquility. As if nothing could ever harm her again. And for a moment, she had forgotten what had led to such happiness. What trials she had gone through to get where she was now.

It was almost scary how quickly she had forgotten what lay outside the safety of Jinyoung's apartment. Even the brief outings with her friends seemed to never spark that subconscious paranoia that had lay resilient up to this point. Her social media had returned to its state of normalcy. Live sessions were back to how they once were. Comment sections were filled with their usual dynamics of love and hate. And through a bit of hesitancy on her part, after checking the account that had been tormenting her—DanteanNomad—she was pleased to learn he had gone radio silent.

It seemed things were back to normal. And there was only one thing left to take care of.

"What?" Jinyoung asked, voice low as he looked up from his dinner plate.

"I think I should move back home." He remained silent, staring at her through his lashes with furrowed eyebrows. She took that as a sign to continue on either way. "I mean, your solution worked! I've been safe and protected this whole time. To be honest, perhaps a little coddled at this point." She laughed, though Jinyoung again stayed quiet. "There's no activity anymore. I think it's safe to go back home."

"I don't understand." Jinyoung put down his fork with a clatter, hands wringing together and resting against his mouth. "What about this place isn't home to you? Is it the guest room? You can just sleep with me in my room. Is the food not satisfactory? Are you not happy with the couch or the TV?"

"Jinyoung," (y/n) cut him off, a chuckle of disbelief expelling from her lips. "It has nothing to do with you at all! I don't know how you could have come to that conclusion. You've been nothing but supportive of me." His eyes seemed to endlessly pierce into her, still waiting for a valid explanation. "I just think… We should have space."

The silence was near deafening. The kind of silence where your ears ring to fill the void. A thick tension filled the atmosphere, this heaviness lingering in the room that felt almost suffocating in a sense. And Jinyoung's eyes remained trained on her. Gone were the warm and loving eyes of her lover. The eyes that would crinkle every time he laughed. The protective eyes she'd wake up to, already watching and waiting for her to wake, too. There was no comfort in his gaze now, replaced only by a dark, cold, unforgiving emptiness that twisted her gut into knots.

"Space?" He asked, eyebrow quirking up at the word he all but spat out.

"Jinyoung…" Her voice was wary, barely even spoken above her breath. "I don't want to rush through things. You have to understand. I want things to be as natural as possible. I don't want to jump into certain stages of our relationship that we're not ready for." Her hand shook as she reached across the table for him. His eyes lazily drifted to her hand and back to her, and after a few seconds, he reluctantly held her hand in his. Though the comfort she sought in his hold was hard to find, his touch feeling cold, uncaring almost. "If you think about it, you'll feel even more excited to see me when we meet. Distance makes the heart grow fonder."

The remainder of the night was perhaps the strangest she's ever seen Jinyoung be. He walked about the apartment like a robot. Eyes distant and calculating. Posture tense and brooding. He cleared the table, cleaned the dishes, prepared dessert, all in utter silence. Even on the couch, his demeanor remained as is. It was as if it didn't matter how close she got to him. The little kisses she pressed to his jaw to try and awaken him from this state. The swirled patterns she'd trace along his chest. Jinyoung stayed in this perpetual state of solitude. And if she wasn't mistaken, it looked almost as if he was thinking. So deep in thought that he barely even processed when the movie ended and she got up to go to bed. A final kiss goodnight, and she went to her room.

The next day was like a complete switch from the night before, with the return of her loving and affectionate Jinyoung. He helped her pack any necessary items, insisting she keep everything else here for whenever she sleeps over. He helped return her home, checked the premises to make sure she was safe, and even helped her unpack afterwards. To top it all off, he decided to stay over, and she couldn't have been more delighted to have this Jinyoung back, cherishing the cozy embrace of his arms around her again.

Like that, she entered another state of normalcy. A combination of her days before the online occurrences and her days after meeting Jinyoung. They'd spend their free time together, go out on dates with one another, alternate houses for movie night. She had to relearn how to live on her own, but the joy of living life without any fear made up for any discomforts she may have felt.

Life was perfect.

(y/n) closed the door behind her with a huff, tossing the sponsored packages she received onto the floor. With a heavy sigh, she trudged through the darkness of her house and into the kitchen, fishing out a water bottle from the fridge before turning to find the light switch. Though as she did so, she was greeted by the sight of flowers on her counter.

It was a rather obscure sight to behold. A clash of purples and yellows and blues. The ones she could identify were baby's breath. So, so many. Practically pooling out of the feeble vase the flowers were tucked away into. Turning the vase around, she searched for a note. Perhaps Jinyoung brought them in whilst she was out. Though when she did find the slip of paper she had wanted, it was empty. Virtually no writing at all. And while she was momentarily stumped, a brief flash of a memory sparked in her head. The memory of an equally blank return address.

A gasp surged forth from her throat, backing away from the flowers until she was pressed against the wall. She clutched her phone, ready to call for help as she slipped out of the kitchen. But then she took a gander at the living room.

The first thing that caught her eye was the pop of green suddenly in her vision—a moss green couch. Atop it were pillows that complemented its shade, and a throw blanket across the cushions. The walls were adorned with artworks she admired, bookshelves contained trinkets she fawned over. And atop the coffee table lay a candle of her favorite scent.

All of these things were mere fantasies to her, nothing more than fleeting desires for a future home. Added to a wishlist of her own to track them for future reference. Yet now resided in her living room as if always having belonged to her.

At this point, her mind was racing, heart beating out of her chest. Her eyes darted around her home to find that practically everything was unfamiliar to her. Paintings, vases, furniture, plants. Everything was different. Everything was what she had always wanted. Yet she had bought none of it.

In a surge of mindless panic, she bolted out of the living room and down the hall, eyes downcast so as to not see the walls lined with more unfamiliar decor. Once inside the sanctity of her bedroom, she planned on calling for help. Whether it be from her friends, the authorities, Jinyoung, someone had to come and save her from this hellscape of a house.

She all but shoved open the door, nerves alight with utter fear from what she had just experienced. Her hand clutched the phone like a lifeline, just about ready to call emergency services before she caught sight of what had become of her room. What nightmare had unfolded in the place she once considered her sanctuary.

Every square inch of wall.

Every available surface.

Every single speck of her room.

All of it was plastered with photos. Photos of her.

Ones printed from her social media just last week, ones from years ago, ones she had deleted immediately after posting, ones she didn't even remember taking. Shots of her walking around town with her friends or spending time on her own out and about, like the ones sent to her in the mail, yet these she had never seen before.

There were shots from her window as she did her makeup. Shots of her changing, though with horizontal dark lines obscuring the full images—grates from her louvered closet door… as if having been taken from within.

Photos of her sleeping in her bed... taken from right above her.

She stumbled back, a gasp catching in her throat as her pulse thundered in her ears. A whispered sob spilled from her lips, and then a defeated, mortified shriek as she crumbled in upon herself. Her body coiled into a fetal position, face burying itself into her knees. Her one refuge which hadn't been violated by this sickening invasion.

She didn't know for how long she remained there until Jinyoung soon came, the familiarity of his voice calling out to her relieving her anguish almost instantaneously. A remedy to her every ailment. (y/n) felt his hands roam across her, gathering her limp body into his own sturdy one, cradling her to him in his protective embrace. He littered her face with soft kisses, brushing away her tears and whispering reassurances to her. If he was shocked by the surrounding area, she hadn't been made aware, mindlessly nestling further into his body and crying out the last of her tears.

"Jinyoung," she muttered weakly, voice battered and defeated. He hummed softly, fingers gently carding through her hair as he rocked the two to and fro. Her eyes were shut, face pressed into the crevice of his neck, hiding away from the horrors of the world, the horrors of what she once perceived as her home. "I'm sorry."

"It's okay, my love," he responded, voice mellow and steady. The vibrations from his chest soothed (y/n) as she grew more distant from her surroundings.

"I want to go home."

Those words were like music to his ears.

Everything he had ever strove for. Everything he had ever wanted in life. Like a confirmation that all of his hard work, all of the trials he'd gone through, had finally paid off. He had finally obtained his one sole desire—and he wasn't letting her go ever again.

A smile crept onto his face, a twisted and manic grin as his arms coiled around her tighter, claiming her as a constrictor does its victim. Taking a look around at the memories he had captured of her ever since he first met (y/n) online, he felt triumphant. Succeeding in both capturing (y/n) whilst simultaneously proving how she can never be safe without him. Victory was sweet, but this false vindication for a situation he himself conjured felt somehow even sweeter.

"Of course, my love. Let's go home."

[wondereads]

WLW Book Recommendations

Happy Pride!

Recommendations are under the cut due to the size of this post. The books listed below are:

The Priory of the Orange Tree by Samantha Shannon

Crier’s War by Nina Varela

The Jasmine Throne by Tasha Suri

The Winter Duke by Claire Eliza Bartlett

Ace of Spades by Faridah Abike-Iyimide

Seven Devils by L. R. Lam and Elizabeth May

Malice by Heather Walter

The Priory of the Orange Tree by Samantha Shannon (high fantasy)

Yes, this book is a monster, but it is well worth your time. Told from multiple perspectives spanning a huge fantasy world, an ancient evil is waking up, and humans must be prepared. This book does a great job of blending many different cultures into one narrative, and the way it deals with organized religion is better than any other book I've ever read. While this is a fantasy over a romance, the sapphic relationship in this book is top tier. It develops slowly and naturally; it's not big and sweeping like a lot of romance in fantasy, but the smaller things really come through.

Crier's War by Nina Varela (high fantasy)

In a fantasy world, humans are ruled over by automae, artificial beings that were initially created by humans but have now taken over as the 'superior' beings. Ayla's family was killed by the king, and she vows to take revenge by killing his own family, his only daughter, Lady Crier. I find the history of the automae very interesting in this book, and Crier's story in particular has a lot of good reveals. While this is an intense high fantasy, there is a bit of humor in it. Told from both Ayla and Crier's perspectives, I find it incredibly funny that a human girl is scheming how to assassinate a princess while said princess is experiencing her first crush on said human girl.

The Jasmine Throne by Tasha Suri (high fantasy)

This book is set in a world inspired by ancient India, and tells the story of a maidservant and princess. The maidservant has a dark past that involves illegal magic and old societies, and the princess has been imprisoned by her cruel and despotic brother. This book is very much on the slower side, but some people prefer that. Similar to Priory, this book is told from multiple points of view, not just the two main characters. The unrest in the kingdom is slow and creeping but happens steadily and realistically. Also, concerning the romance, I actually quite like that the two main characters, Priya and Malini, don't exactly have a very healthy relationship.

The Winter Duke by Claire Eliza Bartlett (high fantasy)

One of my favorite books, The Winter Duke is about Ekata, one of the many children of the duchy of Kylma Above. All she wants to do is leave this place and her family to pursue her dreams of scholarship, but when her family falls into a permanent sleep the day before her departure, she must step up to rule. As someone who loves political fantasy, this book is right up my alley, and yours too as long as that's something you like. I really like that this book explicitly states that Ekata has zero interest in men romantically and is only interested in women. Her romance with Inkhar definitely brings out the YA aspects of this book. Ekata is forced to grow up so quickly, it's nice to see her have a crush and get flustered over it like any teenage girl.

Ace of Spades by Faridah Abike-Iyimide (mystery thriller)

At a predominately white private school, the only two Black students are targeted by an anonymous texter, Aces. Though they have nothing in common, they team up in order to uncover Aces and protect their secrets. Plot wise, this is by far my favorite thriller I've ever read. It's tense, it'll keep you on the edge of your seat, and it discusses institutionalized racism, especially in academia, masterfully. One of the main characters, Chiamaka, has a great sideplot of coming to terms with her sexuality. However, when it comes between her safety and her romance, I love that she keeps a level head on her shoulders and always chooses the former. (There is also MLM rep in this book with the other POV character.)

Seven Devils by L. R. Lam and Elizabeth May (space opera sci-fi)

An intergalactic empire spreads across the universe, and it's up to a ragtag group of rebels to stop it. Eris was once heir to the entire empire, but she gave that up to be part of the Resistance, and one mission may be the deciding factor in the universe's continued freedom. While Eris is technically the main character, this is fundamentally an ensemble cast with multiple perspectives. This book has quite a bit of LGBTQ+ representation, including a sapphic relationship between two of the POV characters. While not a huge focus of the book, their relationship is sweet and touching.

Malice by Heather Walter (high fantasy)

Malice is a retelling of Sleeping Beauty following Alyce, the Dark Grace, who is reviled but used by all in the kingdom of Briar. Alyce dreams of escaping Briar until she starts to master her powers and meets the Princess Aurora. I will admit that I prefer the plot to the romance in this book for the most part, but the ending really gets me sometimes. Alyce's powers and her people's history are so interesting, and Aurora is a great, understanding, and kind love interest.

Stay tuned for more pride recommendations all throughout this month!

[all-eyes-lead-to-the-truth]

All Eyes Lead to the Truth | Unruhe (4x04)

TW: CSA

The night he lost his sister was the first time he felt the howlers. When he opened the bathroom door and saw her seizing in the tub, he felt their hands grip his throat. In his rush to get to her, he tripped over the power cord that was running across the floor and over the lip of the tub. He tried to catch himself against the porcelain, but it caused some of the water to slosh onto his skin. The water burned and he felt a stabbing sensation behind his eyes. That’s when they entered his body, causing him to fly back as the black, smoky howlers danced around him in a thick, suffocating plume — that’s when they started taunting him.

You should have saved her.

His father said she was a Jezebel with a guilty conscience.

His Freud-loving doctors said suicide was common after paternal sexual abuse.

His howlers said it was all his fault.

The howlers never slurred their words and he never needed an appointment to hear what they had to say.

***

Sometimes it felt like he spent every day resisting their efforts to drag him to hell. He knows other people can hear them… can see them. His skin stung from their claws digging into his flesh. He can’t shake them no matter what he does. Maybe they’re a part of him by now, maybe they always were.

After all, if it was really just “schizophrenia” then why did his father have them too?

“I don’t know why I do the things I do, Gerry.”

“She looked so pretty… just like her mama used to.”

“Something inside me just snapped. I had to show her what her life of sin would lead her to. If she wanted to act like a woman, I needed to treat her like one.”

He usually only talked about his howlers after a few drinks, but Gerry could see the regret in his eyes. Howlers could be very persuasive, especially when it was impossible to drown out their voices.

Gerry knew the howlers were why his father would go into her room every night. He knew that was the only reason why a father would lust after their daughter, why a man would seek release in a child.

You can save him.

He raped her.

He liked it.

Avenge her.

It was the howlers that told him where to find the axe.

***

When he was in the institution, his roommate told him all about Rosemary Kennedy. An icepick to the corner of her eyes, and she became a new person. She went from troubled to happy in a moment. That’s what he wanted.

Gerry thinks that if he could just forget those memories, his life would be better. He loved his sister, not as much as Father did, but he got sad every time he thought of her. He just wanted to savor the happy memories of her singing around the house with her nightgown trailing behind her.

But he couldn’t forget. He was plagued with unrest. It wasn’t until he saw that first troubled young woman that he realized if he couldn’t save his sister, he could save other women who were suffering. 

He wished he had thought of the twilight sleep before the first one, maybe then she wouldn’t have been so scared. When the metal of his tool caught on the skin of her bottom eyelid while he pulled the rod out, she let out a guttural groan that sounded like a strangled scream.

“Wie fühlen Sie sich?”

Her attention locked onto him, but all the earlier fear was replaced with something that looked like contentment. Her mouth opened and closed like she was going to say something but forgot what it was before she could find the words.

Trying again, he asked: “How do you feel?”

“Adjuh-juh,” she slurred, glassy eyes looking around the room.

He waited, allowing her a moment to collect her thoughts. When she blinked, it looked like a strained effort, but she didn’t seem bothered, even as the movement caused little rivulets of blood to trail down her cheeks and onto the fabric of her nightgown. Her head lolled onto her shoulder, and the suddenness of it made her lips quirk into a small smile.

You saved her.

“Für Sie wird es keine Unruhe mehr geben,” he reassured.

She looked up at him, blinking slowly. “U-un-ru-”

***

His face twitched and he closed his eyes shut until the howlers faded against his eyelids, floating into a familiar face before laughing at him.

They’d been getting louder. He spent so much time trying to forget, but this FBI woman and her partner were only egging the howlers on. 

“Gerry, help!”

“Daddy, stop!”

“It’ll only hurt for a second, baby.”

The taste of iron in his mouth made him cringe as he soothed the bite mark on his inner lip with his tongue. He had to do this. He needed to save enough women to make up for all the times he pretended he couldn’t hear what was happening on the other side of the wall.

Gerry knew she needed his help the moment they met. There was a howler inside of her head — a black mass invading her body and mind.

“Aufhören! Ich habe keine Unruhe. Ich habe keine Unruhe. Ich brauche nicht gerettet zu werden,” the woman pled.

She doesn’t know.

“Yes you do. Everybody does, but especially you,” he stated firmly.

Ihre Unruhe bringt sie um.

Sie liegt im Sterben.

For the other women, he always feared he might make a mistake and end up hurting them, but she was different. Not because she had his sister’s eyes or because she could speak in his father’s tongue, but because he’d never seen such malignant, cruel howlers. She may not be able to hear them, but she was being consumed from the inside out. He needed to help her before it was too late.

Read the rest of All Eyes Lead to the Truth on Archive of Our Own

@gaycrouton

[bees-tes-blog]

Dd2 ask!

Arisen and pawn

#7, #16

Misc/ au

#7, #8

questions from here!

Arisen & Pawn - What are their least favourite enemies to fight?

perfect question for projecting hard! post jesse's vocation change to mystic spearhand, harpylikes are definitely on that list. having been an archer, adjusting to a combat style with less effective ranged attacks makes flying enemies that would normally be target practice frustrating in a way jesse doesn’t have the patience for. constantly trying to counter their sleep magic as his master flails in their general direction for so long is a drain on mati as well. pre vocation change though? chimeras.

Arisen & Pawn - What is the “silliest” order VS what is the “worst” order your Arisen has given your Pawn? (These things potentially don’t have to be separate.)

I had to think about this one—it’s such a good question that circumstances make so difficult to answer. one thing about jesse is he will not give orders (as much as mati often wishes he did). tbh he rarely even asks for help when he needs it. but I’ll try to answer with what is probably the most foolish thing he’s asked of his pawn. in the version of the stolen throne that exists only in my head, jesse asks mati to accompany him to the masquerade instead of going alone. mati knows this to be an awful idea. after all, pawns are not permitted within the palace grounds—should their mission take a turn for the worse, his presence might only put his master in further danger. but mati is not quick to turn down the opportunity to feel needed. if jesse wants him there, he will go. at the very least, he reasons, this way he'll be at his master’s side, ready to act at a moment's notice in the event something does go wrong. they elect not to tell the captain of their plan. alas, they’re way out of their element. they fumble through their attempts to fit into the gathered company, they miss cues, they distract each other, they linger in places far too long. and as it turns out, a mysterious stranger with an unmistakable otherworldly aura draws attention at such events. slipping away without being noticed proves challenging. at some point after they decide to separate to give jesse a better shot at searching the area, the wrong person catches a glimpse of mati's bared pawnprint and it's all downhill from there. the second he's out of sight once more he rushes to his master's side, and jesse doesn’t need to be told twice that it's time to go. with the help of the very same secret door their quarry disappeared through at the beginning of the night—special thanks of course to lady wilhelmina—they escape by the skin of their teeth, guards losing their trail, before their identities are discovered (by the common crowd, anyway). so there it is. I realize this doesn’t exactly answer the question, but I hope it’s of interest regardless :,)

Miscellany & AU - Share a theme song for each of them

for jesse:

if I'm crazy then it's true that it's all because of you and you wouldn’t want me any other way

and for mati:

under perfection I woke as you protected your home I just kept getting stronger I did my best to control the growing unrest in my soul I could suppress it no longer

Miscellany & AU - What’s that one random fact about them you want to yell about?

since I already do quite a lot of yelling about random facts unprompted, I'm gonna take this opportunity to indulge a little more in something I barely ever do and share a few other misc songs that remind me of them:

champagne supernova - oasis (I added this to the playlist with a very particular image in mind of the final cutscene of ddda even before I knew how much it fit their story in dd2 as well. it's very jesse all around. and the water sounds in the beginning? chefs kiss) the magic position - patrick wolf (so mati. sort of bestowal of spirit to me, even more so for dd2) nothing left to lose - the alan parsons project (I've actually briefly mentioned this one before in a ramble post but I'm bringing it back. it's fitting for jesse at the end of ddda.) paid in full - sonata arctica (post-ddda, after mati’s begun living in jesse’s form. he's crisis 💖 everything about this song is just so perfect for him. runs straight into a wall)

thank you for the ask! <3

[raphieeee]

Plural Raph or the ‘voices’ I think he would have

Red:

He/Him

The first to present and most common to speak up:

Animal instinct. The parts of him that focus on self preservation in both a defensive sense and a self caring sense, as in eating, sleeping and drinking. Leo says he sounds like the ‘mother hen’ parts of Raph (he doesn’t mention how that’s one of his favourite parts of his brother.)

Rose:

They/Them

The second one to present, much more quiet and picky about when they choice to speak:

The softer, more pushed down parts of himself. Named Rose for their softness as they are the most worried one and care greatly for Raph to the point of being extremely untrusting and while they love their brothers, they seem to have no trust for humans and surprisingly Splinter. Raph suspects it’s because Rose also holds the parts of him that knows that Splinter is not fit to be both father and Sensei.

Ruby:

The third to present:

They/He

They tend to show the more Ninja like part of himself. The thoughts of honor and mercy as well as effectiveness and cruelty, the parts that wish to meditate on things or to train when in a state of unrest. Being much more blunt, Ruby only really cares for the others as team members who can be of assistance and not as family, often wishing to leave them behind to finish their mission. Raph finds that despite being so much about ninjitsu, there’s a lot of contradiction as they are not fully comprehending the core values.

Rage:

She/Her

Raph isn’t actually sure if Rage is the fourth or not, she feels like she has always been there. He isn’t sure why she feels like a woman despite the others either being genderless or male, he thinks it might be because he isn’t allowed to feel rage so it feels alien, like a feminine presence in his life. She is often quiet, but always somewhat present. When she does speak it’s fills his mind and shuts everything else out, often making him feel sick and floaty, like he’s not real yet also the only thing left in the universe. Rage is the part of him that feels injustice, like fighting and running all at once. He sees her as his protector when he gets too scared to do it himself. He knows his family can do that too, but it’s different when it’s saving himself.

(If anyone who is a system or plural is upset by this please let me know and I’ll either fix it or just take it down.)

[lennjamin-o7]

Ooh, worldbuilding questions! Hmm. How do prophecies work, in general? Are they something very rare or somewhat normal? Who gives prophecies, and do they generally always come true?

It depends on the country and depends on the god. In Scywar, it's kind of assumed that the king WILL have a gift of prophecy. It's INCREDIBLY rare for a King not to have that gift, and there are scholarly debates on if there ever HAS been a king without the gift. Prophecies in Scywar tend to be most frequent in times of unrest. And the Kings that supposedly didn't have that gift were INCREDIBLY peaceful rules. So, it may just be that the Blood God chose not to give a prophecy since it was uneeded.

A King of Scywar would only declare a prophecy to the people once or twice in an entire generation. However, most suspect that they have more knowledge than that. As it is incredibly common for Kings to casually skip meetings only to find out there was a coup attempt that was thwarted because they happened to leave. But formal official prophecies are generally pretty rare.

Since King Dante's prophecy came not long after his brother's assassination and a culling of "suspicious" nobles, religious laypeople believed easily that the turbulent atmosphere led credence to his words.

Besides the King of Scywar, there are few other places that give insight into the wills of the gods and the world's future.

There is a special Oasis in the country of Las Nevadas where a seer lives, but he doesn't often speak to people about the future. He prefers to write about the past.

The Leadership of Hermitia (a very secretive country) is based on a cycle of names. Like a zodiac, a new leader is given control and they take the name of the cycle they are. I mean, there is NO way that Scar is the same Scar from hundreds of years ago, no matter how similar they appear. Nor can Ethos be the same Ethos. That would be absurd. But anytime the leader bears the title Grian, they know far too much.

While a person might be given revelation from any god at any time, those are the most likely places to find true prophecy. With the King of Scywar, Within the Seasons of Hermitia, and With the Seer Who'd Rather Not. So, not easily accessible. It's one of many reasons the Sleeping Empire maintained such a long treaty with Scywar in the first place. (Another thing ruined by Dante).

And yeah, Prophecies always come true. One way or another. As long as a god is involved.

[ericbalchauthor]

ARC Review: Moonshadow's Champion

Moonshadow's Champion by Dianna Gunn

Title: Moonshadow’s Champion Author: Dianna Gunn Genre: Dark Fantasy Rating: 5/5 Available: Amazon

Warning: Possible Spoilers for Moonshadow’s Guardian

I received an ARC for this review.

About the Book

In the weeks after the events of Moonshadow’s Guardian, Riana finally has what she’s always wanted: a free life in the human world. No more commands. No more restraints on her will. No more being used as a living weapon. Yet the scars she earned escaping her old life don’t just mark her body. Nightmares haunt her sleeping hours and news of Jacob VIII’s plans to exterminate the telars harry her waking thoughts. If she wants to keep the fragile place she’s built for herself and the peace she secured for Moonshadow, she must decide if she will once again take up her blade—this time against her former master. Elsewhere in Moonshadow, unrest and discrimination have roiled into a deadly storm of force. Revolution is brewing—and even Jacob VIII’s death might not be enough to stop it from sweeping over Moonshadow.

Review

Moonshadow’s Champion is the sequel to Moonshadow’s Guardian and the conclusion to the Moonshadow Rising Duology. Following the events of Moonshadow’s Guardian, Riana now serves Moonshadow directly rather than answering to its ruler, King Jacob VIII. As the king grows increasingly paranoid, he plans a crusade of exterminate the telars entirely while also lashing out at his subjects. Riana is put in the difficult situation of how to deal with a king who seems to be going insane, with the best solution seemingly being a treasonous one. Meanwhile, a new leader has emerged among the telars, a woman named Fiona, who gathers forces and forms alliances behind the scenes. Moonshadow’s Champion is an excellent story. Riana desperately wants to move on from her past and live a life of her own, but keeps getting pulled back into being a living weapon. She expresses deep regrets about her past, which repeatedly comes back to haunt her. King Jacob VII is paranoid and unreasonable, descending into madness that effects even the loyal subjects of his own court. Jacob’s son, Marcus, just wants to do the right thing, but is put into situations where he must do horrible things for the common good. Fiona is stubborn and vengeful, wanting nothing more than true freedom for her people, even if that means wiping out the royal bloodline. All the characters involved are unique and well-portrayed with their own desires and motives. Overall, Moonshadow’s Champion is an entertaining and well-written story. Like Guardian, it is a dark tale, but easily enjoyable by those who prefer lighter fantasy. Dark Fantasy fans will enjoy this book as much as the first. Moonshadow’s Champion is an excellent conclusion to the duology, but fans of Dianna’s work will certainly be hoping for additional stories within the world of Moonshadow.

About the Author

Dianna Gunn is a freelance writer by day and a fantasy (and occasional science fiction) author by night. Her fantasy novel, Moonshadow's Guardian, was released in November 2018.  When she's not writing, Gunn can be found working to develop the indie author community. She hosts the #weeknightwriters Twitter chat at 7PM EST and is a co-host of #ReviewPit, a quarterly event designed to connect indie authors with review bloggers. Read the full article

[chiimaera]

KEIR MOREAU.    chaotic evil 

vampire, interview with a vampire + folklore fc: timothee chalamet.

dossier:                                   

keir is a villain in every sense of the word. in all his verses, he is a born psychopath with little empathy or full range of emotion. he is a manipulator and opportunist, he will always go down the road with the most reward even if its paved with blood and suffering. as long as its not him who is suffering, he is very goal oriented. his relationships are purely based off of how that person benefits him. he doesnt make friends or romanic connections because he likes someone, there is always a motive and purpose hes assigned to that person. sex, love, kindness, compassion are all tools hes learned to use to control the people around him and get what he wants. he can fake emotion with the best of them, using those emotions like masks. he is highly volatile, jealous, possessive and cold.              when it comes to dealing with keir, its better to be not noticed. to have his favor is dangerous because his eventful loss of interest may be a death sentence. he doesnt understand friendships or relationships, he only knows possession and control. if he feels that he is competing for someones attention, he will eliminate the loved ones of those who he deems as ‘his’. hes entertained by others pain though will rarely get his hands dirty unless he has to. a big part of his ability allows him to simply separate himself from others actions, creating a god-like untouchability that his thirst for power thrives on.

at over six foot with a lithe frame, he wears rings on each hand and a half human skull mask dipped in gold. this black filtered mask covers his nose and mouth, sporting sharpened incisors.          writers note: keir is evil and will do evil things. i may not write out those evil things in detail but it can be assumed that he will/has done horrible things to people. all ships will be toxic. in plots/threads, he is not meant to win and can be killed by the protagonists.                    

abilities: telekinesis, telepathy, mesmerism, along with enhanced senses, strength, and immortality. he is exceptionally strong at anything that deals with the mind 

background:                                   

in the 1700s, keir was born among a family of tailors but at a young age showed signs of his narcissistic and psychopathic tendencies. he had an innate ability to manipulate the people around him with little effort, mirroring emotions and inciting their beliefs. by the time he was coming of age, most of the village children either kept their distance or followed behind him, hanging on his every word. when he reached his teens, he was more trouble than the others knew what to do with. he lashed out over minor trouble, unafraid to truly hurt those who crossed him. it was his greed, his coldness and lack of honor that set him apart from the others. he would do whatever was necessary to win, be it cheating or intimidation. he could turn his peers against their parents, their countrymen and even their siblings with only a well-placed word.  

his father saw the darkness and sin in his son and banished him from his home at the age of sixteen, fearing what unrest he might cause. filled with animosity and hunger, his path crossed with an older man who offered him bread and a warm place to sleep. sir moreau saw potential in the boy, took him under his wing as a book keeper. over the years, moreau molded the boy and when the time was right, turned him into a vampire to truly be his son. you see, moreau was more than just a business man, he was a butcher. when he wasnt finding delight in hunting and torturing french commoners, he sold bodies to doctors and living slaves to vampires. his fledgling’s psychopathy worked well for him. 

as for keir, he found that there were plenty of others who were misplaced, discarded or lived in the shadows of society. He lacked empathy but practiced mirroring it in others, creating an illusion of camaraderie and power until they began to believe it. He honed this skill, gathering the banished, the outlaws and the deformed, demanding their loyalty in return for acceptance and absolution. his numbers grew. by the time he was a century old, he had a following the size of a small army. they believed him to be a savior, someone to call on when life got hard.

so he became their god and they became his right hand. for years, they participated in wars and revolutions, masking their blood thirst for righteousness. they took slaves, selling them to covens and any creature with deep pockets—even the aristocrats. keir is as cunning as he is ruthless, taking young children from their homes and teaching them what it meant to have real power, creating loyalty that only grew stronger with age. he never turned anyone, believing that their short lives made them more desperate to please. he kept his operation in the shadows just as his sire did, staying just off the radar of those who would oppose him. 

no one thought much of death and he was but a messenger. 

connections:  n/a

[sloggervlogger]

Jambo The Hairless Chimp In A Huge Brawl

Jambo the hairless chimpanzee hasn't got it easy. The chimp from the Twycross Zoo ended up in a huge brawl again, resulting in some big cuts. This isn't Jambo's first injury, he has enough battle scars to show. The biggest one losing an ear in a battle. I always thought he lost his ear, fighting with his challenger Kibali, as this is what the educational talks were saying, but it turns out the keepers of the chimps said that it was his mum that did it accidentally. Twycross did try to save the ear, as it was only partly ripped at first, they used skin glue, but Jambo kept playing with it and eventually he lost his whole ear.   The bite he received this time looks quite bad and deep, but sadly this is a common thing among chimps and not just captive chimpanzees. Wild chimpanzees just like other animals fight to stay on top and even kill. I'm sure you're aware of lots of wildlife programs that show this behaviour all the time in different types of animals. Jambo got in a fight with a male when all the rest of the troop joined in and a massive fight started. Some of the group members jumped on top of Jambo, biting him and others like the females tried to protect him. The chimp on the left is taking a bite out of Jambo and pulls his leg, you can just see this to the left. You can also see Rosie (the chimp with the pink face) cutting in, to defend Jambo. You'll also see Jambo's Daughter Genet ( brown chimp towards the camera) try to get the others off Jambo as well. As quickly as it started it stopped again and everybody dispersed. Jambo licked his wounds and made his way outside. With the cold winter air, his breathing looks like he's having a smoke and a quiet moment for himself. Charlotte his half-sister comes to check on him and lick his wounds, but Jambo moves away.   Twycross zoo did write an article a while ago when the younger male Kibali was joining the group, but it's still quite relevant now. They wrote "What’s happening with the TZ chimpanzees? Some of the younger females in the group are changing their allegiance to one of our young virile males, Kibali. This attention is giving Kibali more confidence and a keen interest in mating. Jambo is not in favour of this and as a leader of the group tries to control the situation, which sometimes leads to clashes between the two males. Challenges for power, although completely natural, are not for the faint-hearted. It involves the challenging chimp working to ensure he has his backup in place (lots of bond forming with his chimpanzee pals) and then displaying aggressive behaviour toward the dominant male. The extent of this can vary from lots of loud screaming and chasing around to the use of their strong arms and teeth to prove their power, which may create some injuries. Recently Kibali and Jambo have been entering into this type of combat, with Jambo receiving some nasty-looking wounds. Up until now Kibali has been unable to gain control of the group but he might decide to try his luck again in the future. This is causing tension within the group from time to time while they are transitioning through a time of unrest at the top. What do we do? It is important that our chimpanzees are given the space and freedom to live as close to a wild situation as possible. This means foods they have to forage for, space to climb up and along, high places to sleep, freedom of choice to go outside, stay inside, to be seen by the public or not and most importantly to create their own hierarchy. If we were to get too involved in this process it could mean potentially training the chimpanzees to rely on human intervention or it could even elongate the issue. We have an amazing keeper team to take care of our animals, knowing when to intervene or not, and a very well-trained on-site vet team, who monitor and treat injuries as required. Chimpanzees heal very quickly; we don’t rush in to treat injuries (which would require a full general anaesthetic) unless absolutely necessary but tend to let the wounds heal themselves where possible. So in general – we allow our chimpanzees to be chimpanzees!" #SloggerVlogger #HairlessChimp #HairlessChimpanzee

[aactailmon]

Autism ask game (except I do all of the questions at once for AAC practice)

From this post

⏰- when were you diagnosed/when did you start suspecting you were autistic?

I don't actually remember being diagnosed with Autism, nor do I remember being told what it meant to have Autism. However, I was diagnosed when I was 7, but would go through a number of diagnoses before my Autism was recognized. (Fun fact: I was diagnosed before you could have both Autism and ADHD, with the latter being my original diagnosis. This was also before the DSM allowed patients to be diagnosed with both Autism and ADHD, so my ADHD diagnosis would become null and void. I still wonder if I could have both...)

🌙- are you a morning person or a night person?

Definitely an afternoon and evening person, my chronic fatigue makes me have unrestful sleep, so getting a good night's sleep is difficult.

🎁- what’s your special interest(s)?

A few of my special interests include toys and toy collecting, cats, music, disability, and roller coasters. There are a few others as well, but they aren't as intense as my main ones.

🍔- do you have sensory problems with food? what food do you like to eat?

I struggle with food and eating, but I have been learning how to cook over the past year and I think its been helping me to cope with my sensory issues. I like to cook with meat, grains and dairy, so I like dishes like chicken Alfredo and other pastas, steak, pizza, hamburgers, and grilled cheese. I like some fruit and vegetables too, but while I am trying my best, I can still be picky with them.

🎧- what symptom(s) of yours is the hardest for you to deal with?

There are a lot of things about Autism that I struggle with... Social interaction, emotional regulation, communication, harmful stims, sensory issues, executive dysfunctional, amongst other related mental health problems.

🦄- what do you excel at?

People would say that I am skilled at art and painting, I have been doing it since I was very young and I used to want to be an artist, but these days I don't think the art industry is a good match for me. I also think I am decent at customizing toys, sewing and cooking. I also like technology and photography.

🍯- do you stim? what are some ways you stim?

I stim a lot and have many methods of stimming, too many to list here, and I do pretty much every type of stimming there is. A few of my favourite stims include hand flapping, body rocking, listenning to music, petting my plushies and cat, looking at calming visuals, and playing with my stim toys. I also have a unique finger stim that is difficult to describe, but I have had it since I was a young child.

🌡- do you prefer the heat or the cold? is one or the other stimmy? does one or the other cause sensory problems?

Both heat and cold make my chronic illnesses flare up in different ways, so neither are ideal. If I had to choose between the two, I would probably go with hot weather, but there is only so much I can tolerate before I reach my limit.

🌈- are you a part of the lgbt+ community? what is your lgbt+ identity?

I am a gay androgynous man and I am very proud of my identity. Also, my pronouns are he/him and she/her.

🎢- what are some common phobias you have?

It is not nearly as bad as it used to be, but I have a fear of fire, and I have had this fear since I was a young child. I am able to cope with it better since, but being around it makes me very anxious. Even things like candles make me nervous to be around. Nowadays, my fears are more hypothetical concepts rather than existing things. I don't even find things like heights or the dark to be scary.

🎆- fireworks: yes or no?

They are pretty to look at, but I will appreciate them from a distance, they are way too loud for my liking.

💬- are you an introvert or an extrovert?

I am actually an extrovert, but I struggle with socializing a lot, and keeping up with neurotypical standards is very exhausting, so I prefer to socialize with other Autistic and developmentally disabled people.

🍫- do you have a sweet tooth?

Yes, and I probably have more of it than I should. I love chocolate and chocolate-covered almonds and pistachios, cookies, donuts, brownie, ice cream, and cake.

☕- do you regularly consume caffiene? do you find that caffeine helps manage your symptoms or makes them worse?

Never tried caffeine before, but I have been meaning to for a while now. I am curious about whether or not it would do anything for me.

👨‍👩‍👧‍👦- do you have friends or family members with autism?

My sister is considering the possibility of having Autism, but nothing has been confirmed yet. Other than that, there is no one else in my family who has Autism as far as we know. When it comes to my friends though, almost all of them are Autistic or developmentally or mentally disabled in some way.

👕- what kind of clothes do you usually wear?

No textures are off limits, but I don't like anything too tight. Too bad I have to wear braces.

✏- do/did you like or dislike school?

It got easier when I went to special ed and alternative high school, but school has always been a struggle for me due to my Autism, and learning and physical disabilities. Even with an IEP, it was still a major struggle, both for learning and making friends.

💅- how do you usually practice self care?

I have an app on my phone called Habitica that tracks my chores and self care habits by turning my life into a video game, it helps to have an interactive schedule in my hands that I can bring with me wherever I go. Without it, I wouldn't be able to function as well as I can.

❤- what’s your favorite color?

Pink, yellow, green and red are my favourites, specifically in that order.

[potsmart]

CBD Capsules for a Great Night’s Sleep

Getting a good night’s sleep is, like, super vital for your general health and well-being, bro. Sleep and water if you haven’t been paying attention to all the beauty tik tokers is the secret to beauty and longevity. We all know we should be getting 7-8 hours of sleep a night, but actually getting there is the hard part. For many who find sleep elusive, cannabis is a go to remedy for easy dreamless sleep, but others get a similar effect without the psychoactive effects as well. I’m referring to CBD. Here are a bunch of suggestions for CBD capsules before we get started with the rest of this article.

Melatonin plus CBD

CBD Gel Caps

The green, narrow-leafed plant that you may recognize has many different slang terms, but scientifically, it is called Cannabis sativa. The term “cannabis” is used to refer to any products derived from the plant. Cannabis plants are known to contain numerous chemical compounds, including a group known as “cannabinoids.” While there are over 100 cannabinoids present in the plant, researchers have focused on studying two that have the greatest effect on humans: tetrahydrocannabinol (THC) and cannabidiol (CBD).

As most people know THC gets you high and CBD doesn’t, it is worth mentioning the benefits of CBD. Certainly there is more than sleep, but that’s the scope of what we’re chatting about here.

Research done by The National Center for Biotechnology Information has shown that oral doses of 300 mg of CBD can be taken safely on a daily basis for up to six months, and up to 1,500 mg daily was well-tolerated by participants in one scientific review. Another review confirmed that using 1,500 mg daily for four weeks showed no negative effects. Preliminary research has indicated that it can be helpful for a number of sleep disorders, including insomnia, REM sleep behaviour disorder, and excessive daytime sleepiness disorder. That’s to say, CBD may help improve sleep and reduce anxiety in patients.

This is likely because cannabidiol has a calming effect on the nervous system and can alter mood by affecting the serotonin system. Unlike THC, CBD does not induce a feeling of being “high” and even large doses of CBD do not produce THC-like effects. Additionally, studies have demonstrated that CBD can reduce the psychoactive effects of THC. Short-term use of CBD does not result in withdrawal for patients. It can be a good thing to keep around for those times when you get a little too edible high.

CBD medications and products are generally associated with mild negative effects. For instance, patients who use Epidiolex, a CBD-based drug that is FDA approved, may encounter digestive issues such as diarrhea. Drowsiness is also a common side effect of CBD intake, but that’s kind of the point right?

Insomnia however can be devastating to one’s ability to concentrate on their waking life. People who suffer from insomnia may feel anxious about not getting enough sleep due to their history of poor sleep, which can exacerbate their sleeplessness at night. It’s a feedback loop of unrest.

There is hope that CBD, which has been shown to be effective in treating anxiety, may also help alleviate the anxiety associated with insomnia. A new pilot study is currently underway to investigate the use of CBD and THC in individuals with physician-diagnosed insomnia. The study aims to provide more insight into the effects of CBD on insomnia and its potential benefits. A more personal, less scientific study (with a test group of one) has brought me to the realization that this is indeed true for me.

CBD has the potential to interact with other medications that a person is taking. One of the ways in which it can affect the body is by slowing down the liver’s ability to break down certain drugs. This can result in an increased concentration of these drugs in the body, which could lead to adverse effects.Furthermore, combining CBD with other herbs or supplements can cause excessive drowsiness, which can be dangerous in certain situations or great sleep in others.

That is to say, it is highly recommended that individuals consult with their doctor before using any CBD product with regularity at any serious dose. It is important to inform your doctor of any medications, herbs, or supplements you are currently taking, so that they can assess if CBD may cause any negative interactions. Your doctor will be able to advise you on whether or not CBD is a safe and viable option to help you achieve your health goals way better than some random on youtube or the internet.

In general CBD is among the most regularly used drugs in the world. For most of us the effect is rather benign, neighbouring. However, if sleep is your goal, boring is exactly perfect. Don’t forget to check the links above to CBD and have a great night’s sleep.

Sources:

U.S. Food & Drug Administration. (2021, January 8). Better data for a better understanding of the use and safety profile of cannabidiol (CBD) products., Retrieved April 8, 2021, from https://www.fda.gov/news-events/fda-voices/better-data-better-understanding-use-and-safety-profile-cannabidiol-cbd-products

By Rico Suave, for Potsmart

[srbachchan]

DAY 5174

Ob-delgrg,Del                    April 15,  2022                   Fri  10;17 PM

There was an attempt to put out what puts out now .. the late call gave rise to a late rise and a late rise gave rise to an additional slumber which then manifested into dreams that kept the mind disturbed and unrest ful .. at a moment thought of pulling the speaker to the bedroom and putting on music in mood of the sleep .. but altered the design and tried pushing the senses oto shut the lids of the eyes and try the dreams again .. ad that is when the wise dream merchants appeared .. there seemed to be un fulfilment on the agenda of the menu of sleep patterns, and that is exactly what was exercised .. in moderation but enough to attract discomfort .. 

So one does the next best thing .. the Plan B .. 

get up splash some acqua on the contours of the face that have gone through the damage of a nights sleep on the side that seems damaged now .. there is only one for me , because the other side blocks the breathing .. deviated septum , I think if that is what is called .. its either a blow to the part during the days of the boxing ring .. or that metal booted missed kick during an action sequence of the film , that immortalised the blow to the gut in a freeze , to inform the audience of what exactly happened during the shoot of Coolie .. a unbelievable act , never done before in film ever .. but it worked .. and his, MKD’s argument .. ‘when the whole country prayed for you for that moment then they must be able to see what they prayed for ..’

a simple enough explain but so modest true and honest in its present .. 

and as you drive to work you recollect the dream in its finality and find even the greatest memory makers shall find it impossible to  remember .. so leave it leave it leave it .. 

let us be with the pictures of the day ..     

  the house that looks so similar to the house of Sarkar in Sarkar 1 .. some basic structures keeping in mind the environ the weather the compatibility were so common .. 

.. the ‘ajgar’ the ‘anaconda’ the AC vent to the sets .. a name coined by me .. now used as a given ..

enough they all look the same .. the scenes be such .. and so does the evening in its lateness ..

so GN dearest ones .. you be the best .. 

Amitabh Bachchan