#Farkas knows whats good

[ronkeyroo]

🐺 LYCANTHROPY:

Featuring : The werewolf brothers

Is it a Blessing? ᴏʀ ᴀ ᴄᴜʀꜱᴇ?

[dykedvonte]

thoughts on the best ending slide where the Khans and Followers of the Apocalyspe meet up in the north and create a mighty society?

I think its so interesting because on the basis of FNV it's likely The Followers would not fuck have actually fucked with The Khans.

Like not in a mean way but Followers and the Khans differ on pretty fundamental levels. They already had prior and brief interactions where the Followers taught the Khans how to make a lot of the chems they sell, hoping they'd use it for benevolent purposes. They likely would not be happy or thrilled to know what they were actually using them for or that they were supplying them to the Fiends of all people. Especially if Julie Farkas is still in charge, she reacts very negatively to the idea of working with the Atomic Wrangler on the sole fact they intentionally hook their patrons on substances to keep them coming. Even if the Khans stopped there'd be the question if the Followers would look past this for cooperation.

We also have the fact that the followers are generally pacifists and loathe violence. They have guards as holding such beliefs makes them a vulnerable group but it's still another contrast from the more aggressive Khans. Not even to get started on them siding with the Legion, who will slaughter the Followers if they win (on the condition Caesar is dead) or run them out of the Fort and have a kill-on-sight protocol for them. The rule of fiction is they bonded over being run out or settled their differences but the build-up to the thriving empire is so much more interesting, along with the current state of it as it no doubt had to alter a lot of Khan traditions.

What I find most interesting about this ending is more so the effect the player has on it. If we use the idea the Followers they reconnect with are a different branch, then the Khans only go on to create a legacy and become a powerhouse again like in the first game. If we like to believe the Followers influenced positively then for good too (and not like their Fallout 1 predecessor). It's a clean slate for them in Wyoming but I do question what happened to the people already settled there?

If we take it was the Followers from the Fort, this route only happens if the player pointedly neglects a lot of Follower interaction and begs the question if they were desperate for a protective allegiance. The Followers are already run ragged with demands by the time the Courier gets there and being forced to leave under any of the conditions wouldn't help either. Just because they helped the Khans doesn't mean it was because they went with the same goals, more so it was mutually beneficial, much more on the Khans side because they would have to give significantly less up as the providers in this scenario.

Ultimately I think it's interesting no matter what because I like to imagine the turmoil and beef they had before cooperation. The Followers are seen as peace-loving doctor hippies by a lot of the Mojave and NCR but they are never truly hated. They just suck at actually forming alliances. To where the Khans' history and reputation are a big reason why they had to side with the Legion for revenge on the NCR despite the NCR not being loved either. To have to work with a group that previously sided with the faction that wanted you dead or just in general went against what you stood for is fascinating from a story standpoint. The fact that they prospered is another!

It's also interesting as this is treated as a much better thing for the Great Khans as it only appears on their ending slide and not the Follower's.

[actual-corpse]

I played Skyrim today.

[argisthebulwark]

This Weight Upon My Shoulders Won't Fade

summary: How they react to seeing you cry. gn reader, no pronouns or y/n used. feat: Vilkas, Cicero, Miraak, Farkas, Brynjolf, Erandur, Arnbjorn warnings: brief mention of injury, lots of stress masterlist

Vilkas panics. He's terrified that you're hurt and begins searching you for injuries. Hastily, he takes mental notes - no sign of blood, no apparent bruising, perhaps it's internal? You haven't been eating well, it could be causing you pain. He pauses when you sniffle and tell him that you aren't injured it's just been an especially rough week. "What do you need?" He's earnest, prepared to shoulder any task that will make your life easier. "What can I do?" "Just - just sit with me for a bit." He eases into the chair at your side and tugs you onto his lap. Vilkas' heart breaks when you cuddle into him and he feels the quivering of your shoulders, uneven breaths puffed out against his skin. He's content to hold you while you cry, pressing kisses to your head and promising that he will take on all of your duties if you need. He's no stranger to responsibility.

Cicero's soft fingers frame your face and peppers kisses across your sore cheeks. Gentle thumbs swipe at your tears, his voice dripping with compassion when he finally speaks. "My Listener, I vow to kill whoever hurt you. I will hunt them down." Your laugh eggs him on, the sad little smile on your face all the encouragement he needs. "Would that make you feel better? Your loyal Cicero to put someone in the ground for you?" His threats escalate, becoming goofier and more outlandish with each giggle he summons from you. He's deliriously proud of himself when you're laughing through your tears, eyes squeezed shut and thankfully beginning to dry. "Should we go out together? I'm sure there's a contract or two waiting around." Cicero urges, offering you one of his beloved blades. "You already made me feel better." You sigh, a grateful kiss planted on his lips. Cicero's a bit shocked - he made you feel better? "I don't deserve you, my Keeper."

Miraak threatens to burn the world for displeasing you. He sinks to his knees, malice lacing his voice when he demands the name of whoever has dared to harm you. He doesn't bother worrying over any repercussions - his world has narrowed down to the tears brimming in your eyes. "Miraak -" "A name, my love." He softens his tone, terrified by the tears spilling down your cheeks. One scarred hand raises to wipe them away but they do not cease. Miraak's blood runs cold when you collapse into his chest, sobs racking your body. "I will tear it all down." He murmurs, allowing you to burrow into his robes. "I will burn the world for hurting you, my dragon." "Can you just stay here instead?" He's relieved to hear a touch of humor in your voice. "Burning the world down can wait. It's not going anywhere."

Farkas gathers you into his broad chest, one hand rubbing across your back. He knows just how much you've been handling since becoming Harbinger and wishes he could take some of the burden for you. He's witnessed the ways your role has broken you down - dark circles under your eyes after the sleepless nights and cheer in your voice nearly gone after another boring meeting. "So proud of you." He mumbles, allowing you to cry into his tunic. "It's so much." His heart drops at your voice - gods, how he misses the easy way you'd once laughed together. "It's all so much, I don't know how much more I can take." "I'll handle all the recruits." "No, that's not your job -" "It is now. Recruiting and training is mine." Farkas wipes at your messy face, relieved when you nod. "And Vilkas can handle all the stuffy meetings." "I couldn't put that on him." "He'll bitch and moan but he's good at that stuff." He kisses your head once more, resolved to never let it get this far again. "Don't worry, honey. We'll take care of everything."

Brynjolf extends a hand for you, offering to show you somewhere quiet. His footsteps are silent when he leads you down to the docks and clambers atop the fishery. The smell isn't exactly pleasant but he's correct - all that chatter from the market and the Flagon are gone, replaced with the soft lapping of waves against old wood. Nestled far from the rest of town he bundles you into his cloak and kisses the top of your head. Lake Honrich's winds are chilly but his warmth keeps that at bay. "Alright, love." He sighs, one arm slung over your shoulders. "Let's hear it. Get it all out." God, it feels good to get everything off your chest. Brynjolf has no shortage of responsibilities but you've never experienced anything like being the Guild Master. You are constantly pulled in a dozen different directions. Everyone needs your full attention at all times. Tasks and assignments have piled up over the months until you're practically drowning under them. "Y'know, I hear you've got a second in command you could assign the bullshit to." Brynjolf finally speaks once you've spilled your guts. "Fairly competent if my reports are correct. Handsome lad, too."

Erandur is fairly sure his heart breaks at the sight. Careful fingers wipe at the fat tears rolling down your cheeks as sweet words fall from his lips. He's seen you hurt before, certainly - he's carried you for miles after attempting to heal a broken bone or close a terrible wound but this anguish is new. "What can I do, my beloved?" He coos, gathering you into his arms. He can't help it, this compulsion to fix everything for you. "Should I draw you a bath? Or we could retire to bed early this evening, chores can wait until the morning." When he sinks into a warm bath at your side, Erandur's terrified by the clammy hands that clasp his. You are powerful, his fearless savior. He's never seen this bone deep exhaustion in you. "It's all so much." You finally mutter when he massages soap into your tense shoulders. "Being the Dragonborn - it's more than one person can handle." "I will carry whatever burdens you permit me to, my love." He murmurs, glad when your tired eyes fall closed. He will offer you anything he can, even if it is simple comfort.

Arnbjorn freezes. His brain halts at the sight of you storming past his workstation with angry tears shimmering in your eyes. It's been years since he's been this emotionally invested - he's forgotten how to handle this. "Hey." He's shocked by the rage in your eyes when you glare over at him, hands clenched at your sides. "Meeting go badly?" "You cannot imagine." Uh oh, he hasn't heard that tension in your voice in ages. "Wanna hit somethin'?" Your acceptance is quite the relief. He keeps a careful hand on the hilt of his latest sword, ensuring that it remains on the workbench when your hammer slams down on the blade. Over and over the sound of metal rings through the Sanctuary, a convenient cover for the angry sobs that slip past your gritted teeth. The forge has dried your tears before they can fall. Once your arms are numb and muscles feel dangerously limp you turn to him, all that burning rage drained away. Arnbjorn doesn't say a word, merely plucking the tools from your quivering hands and pressing a kiss to your sweaty forehead.

[lelelego]

is there a canon ending you have in mind for Eli and Boone?

god yeah. i'm gonna put this under a cut because it turned into a long one. this is not just the ending but the stuff leading up to it. word vomit galore

just want to reiterate this is all in my insaneo mode head and simply fnv eli's timeline as far as i'm concerned

in a nutshell eli decides an independent vegas is ultimately the best for the residents. he has a hard time deciding between an ncr rule (a somewhat more organized freeside and new vegas, and potentially more resources aside from energy), but seeing firsthand the idiocy operating under the monolith, incompetence, and corruption, does he decide to help the followers of the apocalypse establish control over the area with the help of the king, since julie farkas and the king are both actual people of authority who the people of freeside respect.

when eli tells boone he's not going to help the ncr, boone's conflicted. he's been following eli around because (1) eli makes good on his promise re:fighting the legion, (2) eli is a legion magnet because caesar + lanius hate his guts and keep sending hit squads after his ass, and (3) he genuinely thinks eli will die without him. (none of this is related to the fact that boone enjoys his company, obviously. not even a little bit. obviously.) he's torn between the ncr, the only system he knows, and the person who stands as the trigger of the largest political change in the region. is he responsible for changing this person's mind? does he want to change eli's mind? he doesn't know shit about the ramifications of the ncr leaving, nor the ncr staying. is he just following orders again? despite what happens at bitter springs (hopeful ending) he can't really let the idea of the nation he grew up with go.

so at the end of second battle of hoover dam, the ncr gets chased out (mostly). eli still doesn't really know where boone stands regarding the ncr, because for all his talk and bluster he doesn't want boone to dislike him for prying (which has happened already before). forgive him, he's got a big fat crush that won't go away on the guy. he's tired. he's hungry. he's thirsty. but all he can do is think, "boone's going to follow them back." which is when the picture above happens. he snaps back to his senses obviously, because what right does he have to ask something like that?

but boone stays. eli goes to talk to julie and he's there. eli sits at the tops in benny's workshop for days, programming and reprogramming systems for the securitrons and tinkering with finer motor controls and he's there. eli negotiates with the crimson caravan and he's there. eli is confused but yknow. what is he going to do talk to the brick wall of a man about his feelings??

boone sees what eli does for the people of freeside. even helps, sometimes, even though the only thing he thinks he's good at is killing. he thinks, is this what being better is? is this what amends are? but like a reoccuring rash he gets the Itch. thinks about the ncr. about manny. they could enlist back into first recon, easy. he goes back to novac to look over things he'd left there, things he used when he'd freshly left first recon, spends the night in his old room.

only he can't sleep. he can't sleep because he can't hear the sound of eli playing some shitty video game on his pipboy. he can't hear eli and veronica arguing over which snack is the best for the road, or eli tuning ED-E to different frequencies to see what he can pick up. he can't see eli going to the bathroom what feels like every 5 minutes because of his wacked out digestive system. he can't hear eli cursing as he tries to take off his leg brace only for something to get stuck, and then him rustling around for his tools, not being able to find the right one, and then jamming whatever he can find in the joint to get it unstuck.

so he goes back to new vegas, and when he sees eli's smile when eli sees him, dirty and sweaty from working, he knows it's an easy choice to make.

(yes they eventually do h*ld h*nds. when is that? i don't know. when IS that. someone tell me please)

after that eli and boone stay in vegas for a bit to get everything as stable as possible, even though it's an uphill, impossible challenge, and then i think eventually eli's curiosity would get the better of them when he's a little older and he'd leave to find different things to prod and look at with boone at his side :^)

[coffee-at-daybreak]

at your back | farkas x reader

It takes a moment to recognize the sound you just heard - someone knocking on your door. It’s been just you and your thoughts for a whole day now. And you weren’t expecting company.

You turn in bed just enough to voice a “come in”. You’re reluctant in doing so, already dreading having to interact with anyone.

But then you see Farkas entering, and you feel a sweep of relief.

For a fleeting second, you forget about your sorrows when he greets you with a gentle smile, one that softens his icy eyes. He holds a tray with a small bowl of soup and a slice of bread. He teeters in carefully with it, bringing in the scent of warm spice with him.

“Thought I’d bring dinner to you, since you didn’t come up last night,” he says.

Something pangs in your chest. You remain mostly turned away, curled on your side on the bed, and facing the wall. “Thank you, but I’m not hungry.”

He sighs. “I knew you’d say that. Well, best we wait anyway - it’s really hot. You don’t need a tongue burn. I may have given myself one earlier.” He sets the tray down on the nightstand.

Then he approaches to stand next to the bed. “Room for one more on there?” He asks.

You cast him a wary glance, gauging his face to see if he’s using another joke to lighten the mood. But no, he’s serious, an almost pleading look in his eyes.

You move sideways on the bed, even closer to the wall, so Farkas can clamber in. You sense the dip of the mattress and hear the creaking of the wooden frame with his added weight.

Then his arms are gathering you up - one sliding under your abdomen, the other draping over your waist. They meet at your middle, and he’s pulling you in until your back presses to his chest. The familiar warmth of his body surrounds you all over, half muscle, half softness - all comfort.

“I missed you,” he rasps, breath tickling the skin on the back of your neck. He nuzzles his face closer to your shoulder. “I know you needed space. But I don’t like being away from you too long.”

Hot tears build up behind your eyes. Hearing those words, so genuine and sweet, is an almost painful contrast to what you’ve been dealing with since yesterday.

A nightmare of a day had happened - one of those where nothing goes right. You had so many responsibilities as Harbinger now, yet you were unable to succeed at any of them yesterday. You couldn’t face any of your fellow Companions after such an ordeal, afraid you’d see disappointment - the same disappointment you felt in yourself. So you came to the solace of your quarters, where there was nothing to do but deal with your thoughts - restless, agonizing, shameful thoughts - alone.

But he was here now, and though the thoughts linger heavy in your mind, you aren’t alone anymore.

You draw in a deep breath, but your words come out choked anyway. “I’m sorry. For everything. I - I failed you all.”

You feel Farkas shaking his head before you’re even done speaking. He gives you a tight, tight squeeze, until you have to shut up.

“No. You didn’t.”

His hand splays out across your stomach as you take more unstable breaths, helping you ward off the sobs wanting to escape. He spreads his fingers out, pressing warmth into your middle.

“You messed up, sure. It happens.” Even when his voice is barely more than a whisper, it has that little gruffness to it, one you’ve found to be unfailingly soothing. It’s a lot like him in that sense - he appears tough and scary, when he is the exact opposite.

His arms tighten around you again, but more so in an attempt to pull you even closer to his chest. You can feel his heartbeat vaguely, steadily, at your back.

“But you could never fail us, love. You’ve done too much for us. And you’ll keep doing more.”

The tears race down your face now, but for the first time, it feels good to let them. Some of that hot shame you’d been feeling escapes with them, no longer sitting deep in your chest, but taking the form of wet warmth on your cheeks.

Farkas keeps his firm hold, letting you cry in silence for a moment. The repetitive sweeping of his arms and the feather light kisses he leaves on your shoulder do all the talking for him anyway.

Eventually, your ragged breaths subside, and the fresh tears are replaced by weak sniffles. You feel less of the weight within you, focused more on the weight of the body around your own. The warmth of him is seeping past just surface level, ebbing into your system, beginning its slow but definite domination over the dark feelings.

You reach your hand down until it rests over his, still covering your middle. “Thank you. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

“You’d probably be fine, but luckily, you’ll always have me.”

You are suddenly reminded of one of your earliest memories with the Companions. When you returned from that first mission, and you’d been sworn into the inner Circle, and Farkas had been the one to speak for you. You had barely known him then, and he’d barely known you, but still, he swore to stand at your back, that the world may never overtake the two of you. Back then, neither of you could have known how close you would become, but the bond formed in that moment was the unmistakable beginning of it all.

“Even when-” you start to ask.

“Even then,” he cuts in. He follows his words with yet another squeeze of his arms, and this time, it works a strained little laugh out of you, and he smiles. “You couldn’t get rid of me if you tried.”

You want to tell him you’d never try, but you’re sure he already knows that. If there’s one thing that is consistent amongst the chaos that is your adjustment to the Harbinger life, it’s your relationship with Farkas. Strong, solid, full of warmth and support - a reflection of him.

“Now,” he speaks up, his grip finally loosening a bit. "You should really try and eat something. Don’t make me spoon-feed you.”

This time, you don’t protest.

a/n; this is a rather self-indulgent insert bc ya girl has one awful day and wishes for nothing more than to be comforted by a big sweet man but i thought it turned out nice enough to share. i also wanted to give a huge thank you to all who interact with my silly little fanfics, every like and reblog and comment means the world to me and i appreciate it all 🤍

[covid-safer-hotties]

a newsletter some of y'all may be interested in subscribing to

By John Dupuis

Welcome to the latest issue of the Covid-Is-Not-Over Newsletter! A couple more issues during December before I take a little break from regular issues and publish a couple of filler “Bonus” issues. I’m definitely looking forward to a couple of slower weeks of holiday movies and fun books. I’m thinking of a Lord of the Rings rewatch this year. LotR are holiday movies, right? Right?

Mini-theme this week seems to be librarian-friendly, with a couple of colleagues writing about Information Literacy and the pandemic and how we’ve gotten ourselves in this rather amazing fine mess. How can all that good information be available to seemingly smart people, and yet it doesn’t seem to sink in? How can Long Covid fly under the radar, ignored or psychologized?

One thing that I want to remember from last week is that appalling Lisi Tesher article. You may recall that Lisi Tesher is the Toronto Star agony aunt who gave a horrible response to a letter about how to accommodate a Covid cautious person at a wedding. Tesher basically called the person mentally ill. Appalling.

Anyways, clear air advocate Ryan Tennant wrote a fantastic response as a letter to the editor at the Waterloo Record, which republishes Tesher’s column. Here’s a little bit.

In the context of COVID-19, we should respect and support individuals who make choices to protect their health and the health of those around them, especially when science justifies it.

For weddings and similar gatherings, a compassionate response would have offered creative ways to understand and incorporate evidence-based health protections against COVID-19, ensuring everyone feels valued and safe.

I urge this publication to ensure its contributors are equipped with accurate information and an appropriate tone for readers seeking support.

If you are the grudge-holding type of person, perhaps it’s not too late to encourage Ms. Tesher to read this week and last. The Star’s Life section email is life@thestar.ca, the city editor is city@thestar.ca and Ms. Tesher herself is at lisi@thestar.ca.

This week I also highlight some more on Trump and public health, not to mention some revolution-making, rabble-rousing, high-energy jazz.

Like! Share! Subscribe!

As most have probably noticed, there is no paid subscription option for this newsletter. However, Substack does have an option where subscribers can pledge to subscribe “just in case” and a few kind subscribers have made that pledge. I very much appreciated the vote of confidence in what I’m doing here. What I’ve decided to do on a trial basis is to set up a “tip jar” on the Ko-fi platform. I’m not anticipating a huge surge of income from using Ko-fi but whatever revenue I do end up with, I plan to spend on supporting artists on Bandcamp.

Be my secret Santa!

It’s not about information literacy: Why people’s risk calculus around COVID has changed by Meredith Farkas / Information Wants to Be Free: The Newsletter I don’t think information literacy is the issue here. Most people I know are quite smart, well-read, and adept at research. I don’t know if they read things about COVID anymore, but if they’re not, it’s not because they don’t know how to find it. I think a lot more is happening with people who avoid COVID information and ignore risks and I think it’s a mix of personal psychological factors, privilege, the absolute disaster that was public health messaging around COVID, and social pressure to align with the dominant narrative that COVID is over. I know we like to distill things down to a single cause (“they’re selfish!” “It’s Biden’s fault!”), but this is considerably more complicated.

Many of us are dealing with pandemic fatigue, which is a lot like burnout and leads to a “demotivation to engage in protection behaviors and seek COVID-19 related information” (Haktanir, et al., 2022, p. 7315). Ford, Douglas, & Barrett (2023) describe pandemic fatigue as “a complex set of emotions comprised of anxiety, hopelessness, depression, and anger.” There are a few of reasons people become fatigued in this way. The biggest is simply the length of time we were all expected to stay in a state of emergency and hypervigilance. Living in that state with no clear end in sight can easily lead to burnout as many of us who have worked in high stress jobs can attest. You can’t stay in a state of hypervigilance forever without eventually becoming exhausted and desensitized (Koh, Chan, & Tan 2020). Chen et al. (2024) found that even when they controlled for pandemic severity at particular points in time, pandemic fatigue increased in study participants an average of 5.8% every six months of the pandemic. Instead of vilifying folks who experience pandemic fatigue and decrease their precautions, the WHO portrays it as “a natural and expected reaction to sustained and unresolved adversity in people’s lives,” (7), an approach which I personally appreciate. Shame is not a motivator and these are very normal psychological responses.

Advice for U.S. Government Scientists: Lessons Learned From the ‘Muzzling’ of Their Canadian Counterparts by David Shiffman / The Revelator Step One: They Can’t Delete What They Don’t Exclusively Control

For scientists working at government agencies, they suggest making copies of everything so it can be stored somewhere else — and to do that as soon as possible, certainly well before the next administration starts.

For example, does your agency have a publicly funded database, report, or educational website that has anything to do with climate change, conservation, diversity, equity and inclusion, or public health? It’s very likely that the next administration will try to suppress or delete at least some of it. A nongovernment partner, such as a university or large nonprofit, can host copies of these important documents and data if they’re shared in advance.

These efforts are already underway, but it’s vital to spread the advice as far as possible, as quickly as possible, so no data is left vulnerable.

New Zealand Covid inquiry finds vaccine mandates were ‘reasonable’ by Australian Associated Press / The Guardian A royal commission into New Zealand’s Covid response has largely accepted the need for vaccine mandates, while accepting they harmed a substantial minority of New Zealanders.

The first of two inquiry reports on the pandemic was released on Thursday and also called for broad investment to plan for the next pandemic.

A headline finding is that New Zealand had one of the lowest rates of Covid deaths for each head of population among developed countries.

The most contentious of the issues surveyed was the use of lockdowns and vaccine mandates, which helped to curb the spread of the virus, but at the cost of social cohesion and trust in government, according to the report.

“Contentious public health measures like vaccine mandates wore away at what had initially been a united wall of public support for the pandemic response,” commissioners Tony Blakely, John Whitehead and Grant Illingworth wrote.

“Along with the rising tide of misinformation and disinformation, this created social fissures that have not entirely been repaired.”

Another finding was “it was reasonable to introduce some targeted vaccine requirements based on information available at the time”, but the case was weaker from early 2022 when the Omicron variant took over.

The COVID inquiry report is an excellent guide to preparing for the next pandemic – health cuts put that at risk by Michael Baker, Amanda Kvalsvig, Collin Tukuitonga, Nick Wilson / The Conversation The report concludes that New Zealand’s adoption of an elimination strategy was highly successful, but had wide-ranging impacts on all aspects of life.

The strategy required early use of border controls, lockdowns and other restrictions which helped prevent widespread infection until most of the population was vaccinated. This response gave New Zealand one of the lowest COVID mortality rates globally.

The report also found that as the pandemic progressed into late 2021, the negative impacts increased. Controlling the pandemic was focused on mandates, including restrictions on public gatherings, quarantine and isolation, contact tracing, masking and vaccination requirements.

The effects included declining trust in government within some communities and loss of social cohesion. Vaccine hesitancy emerged as a growing challenge to the vaccine rollout, fed by exposure to misinformation and disinformation.

The prolonged pandemic and lack of a clear exit strategy from elimination added to the difficulties, according to the commission’s report.

Almost a third of preteens, teens with long COVID still not recovered at 2 years, study shows by Stephanie Soucheray / CIDRAP A new study from UK investigators shows that—while most COVID-19 patients ages 11 to 17 who reported long-COVID symptoms 3 months after the initial infection no longer experienced lingering symptoms at 2 years—29% still did.

The findings, published in the journal Communications Medicine, come from the National Long COVID in Children and Young People cohort study, which followed up on thousands of young people after their COVID-19 diagnoses. …

Overall, 20% to 25% of all infection status groups reported three or more symptoms 24 months post-testing, with 10% to 25% experiencing five or more symptoms. Not all who reported symptoms, however, met the formal criteria for long COVID. In fact, five or more symptoms were reported by 14.2% of those who never tested positive for SARS-CoV-2, and by 20.8% of those with at least two infections.

Older teens and females were most likely to meet formal definitions, the authors said. "We did not find that symptoms or their impact differed by vaccination status," the authors wrote.

Independent Long COVID Journalism as a Lens for Critical Information Literacy: Conversations with The Sick Times Founders Betsy Ladyzhets and Miles W. Griffis by Andrea Baer / Communications in Information Literacy The realities of COVID-19 and Long COVID and their ongoing impacts are unsettling. In a world of information overload, when we face numerous wicked problems that have no simple or complete solutions, it’s understandable that we may sometimes want to simply look away or may, at times, feel paralyzed and throw up our hands. Some readers may, like me, ask themselves to what extent to engage with wicked problems like COVID-19 in the realm of information literacy, given how polarized and taboo this topic has become and given that most discussions about COVID-19 place it in the past tense (e.g., “postpandemic,” “post-COVID era”). Some readers may also, like me, ask themselves how examining reporting on complex topics like COVID-19 might inform their teaching practices more broadly. I would like to do more of the latter along with others, and do so with critical reflection, care, and an ongoing practice of perspective-taking. …

COVID-19 and Long COVID, similar in many respects to climate change, are not going away, and they affect us all, albeit to varying degrees and in different ways. The Sick Times is a concrete example of people and communities making a positive difference for many in the short term, while also growing connections and efforts that necessary for larger and more systemic change over the long term.

Long COVID is becoming a serious social and economic issue for Australia by Jason Murphy / Crikey Among the current generation of kids, many are growing up with their mother or father confined to bed or confined to bed themselves. According to a study by ANU, long COVID is hitting up to an estimated 20% of Australians three months after they contracted COVID — mostly women, but also men and children. In the current COVID wave, that means a lot of people coming down sick for a long time.

Long COVID is keeping people from their jobs and their lives, and as COVID cases continue, it is unclear whether the rate of new long COVID cases is increasing faster than the old cases recover.

‘I was in denial about it’: actor Matt McGorry on having long Covid by Estelle Tang / The Guardian What does risk mitigation look like for you, and what did you want people who don’t have long Covid to take away from the video?

The risk mitigation in my life is very high. When your health is taken away from you, you realize how important it is. There’s not much that feels worth the risk of another Covid infection.

I don’t necessarily expect that everyone does or should do what I’m doing, but the number one thing is having a very well-fitting respirator. For maximum protection, you need something that forms an airtight seal. While you may get some protection from a surgical mask, if you’re already taking that step, it makes sense to find something that seals to your face. I wear the Flo mask, which is a reusable mask. People definitely look at it, and I have all sorts of feelings about that. I used to love to people-watch, and now I don’t any more, because people are watching me. …

My asks are very simply masking, at the very least, in places where disabled and immunocompromised people have to be: grocery stores, medical settings such as doctors, offices, pharmacies, hospitals, and transportation like planes, trains and buses.

Even as an act of solidarity, picking a couple of those places, making a commitment to that and making that known is incredibly important. As someone who feels extremely isolated and abandoned by the rest of society, I don’t have the capacity any more to ask individual people in my life if they will take this on. That’s what the video was for.

Long COVID pandemic in the aftermath of the acute phase / Centre for Pandemics and One-Health Research Why is this topic important?

It is important for many reasons, but I would say the main reason is that this is a problem that affects a large fraction of those with acute infections or certain acute infections. In this COVID study with adolescents, we found that approximately 47 percent had long-term sequels, and quite a high percentage of these would fulfil the criteria for chronic fatigue syndrome, which is a debilitating situation. That is quite similar to what we have seen after other infections. For instance, with kissing disease, six months after the infection, you are left with 10 to 15 percent with a chronic condition and with functional impairments.

The good news is that the majority, especially in the younger age group, will recover spontaneously. However, this can take a long time, and in adolescent medicine, this is one of the major causes for functional impairments in adolescents. So, it has a significant impact on people´s functional capability. It is necessary to understand the details of the pathophysiology for treatment, prophylaxis and prevention. The first step is, therefore, to understand what is going on. The next step is to conduct clinical trials in order to try to treat this phenomenon. This is something my research group is doing as part of the research.

For the love of God, Covid isn't over - so can people please wear masks? By Sam Williams / Canary A week ago, my wife and I went to John Lewis to look at air fryers. As we entered the store, I put on an FFP3 mask because of Covid. My wife looked at me in disgust and said, “Oh, you’re wearing a mask?” I replied, “Yes. There’s a lot of Covid around, and I don’t want it. Do you?”

She responded, “Well, the trouble is, I’m not wearing a mask”.

I said, “Yes, I can see that. I wish you would. The trouble is, every time I’ve caught Covid, it’s been from you. I’m disabled with long COVID, and every time I get reinfected, it makes me really, really ill”.

So here’s my question: does my wife not care?

I want to use this piece to spark a debate about who we are as people. Are we kind and virtuous, or are we selfish and indifferent? Writing an article about what stops people from wearing masks, while I live with the pain caused by my wife not masking, feels like an oddly meta activity.

That’s right, folks: it was probably my wife who gave me Covid in the first place. Although, to be fair, neither of us knew about masking or long Covid back then.

Want to Limit Respiratory Virus Infections? Mask and Test in Hospitals by Rachel Robertson / MedPage Today Stopping universal masking and SARS-CoV-2 testing in hospitals led to a surge in hospital-onset respiratory viral infections relative to community infections, a cohort study found.

After these safeguards were removed, there was a 25% jump in hospital-onset respiratory viral infections compared with the preceding Omicron-dominant period (RR 1.25, 95% CI 1.02-1.53), reported Theodore Pak, MD, PhD, of Massachusetts General Hospital in Boston, and colleagues.

When hospital staff began masking again, the rates of hospital-onset respiratory viral infections decreased by 33% (RR 0.67, 95% CI 0.52-0.85), they wrote in a JAMA Network Open

Testing and Masking Policies and Hospital-Onset Respiratory Viral Infections by Theodore R. Pak,Tom Chen, Sanjat Kanjilal, et al. / JAMA Network Open In this study, stopping universal masking and SARS-CoV-2 testing was associated with a significant increase in hospital-onset respiratory viral infections relative to community infections. Restarting the masking of health care workers was associated with a significant decrease. Limitations of our analysis included a lack of concurrent controls, possible variations in compliance, difficulty disentangling effects of testing vs masking, and potential case misclassification. However, medical record reviews suggested most hospital-onset cases were true acute cases.

Nosocomial respiratory viral infections remain associated with increased length of stay and higher mortality in hospitalized populations. Our data suggest that masking5 and testing were 2 potentially effective measures to protect patients who are hospitalized, particularly when community respiratory virus incidence rates were elevated.

Long Covid-19 Weakens Immunity In Children, Increases Risk Of Infections: Study by Himani Chandna / News18 Children experience weakened immunity and bacterial infections after suffering from long Covid-19 syndrome, a study published in the medical journal Nature has revealed.

Persistent fatigue was the most common symptom in children with long Covid syndrome, while the majority of children often complained about anxiety.

Is H5N1 (Bird Flu) the Next Pandemic Causing Virus? / LIL_Science One critical aspect of H5N1 becoming a pandemic causing virus is developing person to person transmission, this has not yet been reported for the virus. However, research published December 2nd, 2024 in Nature Microbiology makes a strong case for increased virus shedding and hence airborne transmission being a key component of increased infectivity. The researchers found that increased viral shedding in H5N1 found in an infected dairy farm worker but not in H5N1 that infected the in cattle themselves. This means the virus in that person had changed in a way that allowed for improved airborne spread. This supports prior research published October 28th, 2024 in Nature showing that the same virus strain (A/Texas/37/2024 (huTX37-H5N1) had acquired a mutation that improved the virus’s ability to infect human cells and increased lethality in animal models.

Repeat human infection gives the influenza virus more chances to develop mutations. Within the last month several reports have indicated that H5N1 is moving closer to person to person transmission while maintaining it’s highly pathogenic nature, exactly what we don’t want.

I have gotten hundreds of questions on social media about this so I will start with some of the basics to help everyone navigate what might be coming next. Let’s dive into where H5N1 came from, why is it more concerning than annual influenza strains, and what can we do to protect ourselves?

'Mistaking Covid as a cold may put people at risk' by Nikki Fox / BBC An NHS matron said that too often people were mistaking Covid for a common cold and a lack of testing could be putting vulnerable people at risk.

Lana Goodwin, who works in Covid services at Mid and South Essex NHS Foundation Trust in Billericay, Essex, said she believed people who were not high risk "feel that Covid has gone".

She added that statistics showed many vulnerable people were also not aware they were eligible for anti-viral drugs.

Ms Goodwin said: "I feel the public see [Covid] symptoms as a cold and it doesn't trigger off a response to test."

Ms Goodwin said that her clinic had people testing positive for the virus every day and vulnerable people were "unfortunately still dying from Covid".

[miraakulous-c6]

My headcanon about what would happen if Farkas is in love with the Dragonborn

He would be really confused at first because he does not understand his own feelings

He would like to be at the Dragonborn's side even more than before, which he does not think anything specific of

But he does not understand why he feels weird in a good way whenever the Dragonborn looks at him, talks to him or just near to him

It is pretty obvious to everyone but him and the Dragonborn

Noone helps him out as long as it does not get out of hand

After watching Farkas becoming a nervous wreck and not being able to say a single word without stuttering Aela helps him out

Or at least she tries because with Farkas it is not that easy

He just gets even more confused and wants to do nothing but hide from the Dragonborn because while he still does not entirely understands, he knows it is more than friendship but cannot name it

It goes on and on until the Dragonborn takes matters in their hand and make a move on Farkas

Which still would render him to a stuttering, nervous and blushing mess but at least that's a start

And once he gets used to it then he will be more than happy to have the Dragonborn at his side

I hope it does justice to Farkas. I never did this kind of headcanon before

[mischasbongwater]

farkas x reader

warning: intense sex, vaguely fem-bodied reader but only if you squint

authors note: this is most certainly not my best work, just practice if anything but im still glad i finished it (emphasis on finished) and i wanted to share it and this felt like a good place to do it

(also for context this takes place after his transformation in the crypt that first time)

You slip into Farkas’s room as quickly and quietly as you can, out of worry that one of the other Companions might get suspicious. You carefully close the door, turn around—

—And Farkas is standing at the foot of his bed, in nothing but a loincloth.

“OH!” You yelp, throwing your hands up in front of your face. “I’m sorry, I didn’t-“

“It’s fine, open your eyes. I don’t care.”

You falter. “Wh- seriously?”

“Yeah. Why not?”

Slowly, you lower your hands and look at him. He’s sat down on his bed now, arms folded. Somehow he still looks just as big and intimidating as when he’s wearing armor. You can so clearly see his muscles rippling beneath his olive skin, but you try not to look anywhere other than his face — or arms.

You catch the inquisitive look on his face and snap yourself back to reality. “So,” you begin. “Werewolf.”

“Yes,” he agrees. “It is a gift given only to those in the Circle. Should you want to share the beastblood, you’ll have to prove your honor.”

“Right.” You cannot stop looking at him.

“Truth be told, if you want a more technical history, you should talk to Kodlak or Vilkas. I don’t usually put much thought into it beyond the gift itself. But- are you okay?”

“Huh? What do you mean?”

“I don’t know. You smell different.” He stands up.

“That- is so weird,” you respond, momentarily distracted by bewilderment. “What do I smell like?”

“Normally? Just you. But now…” He steps closer until he’s barely a foot away from you. It feels like his bare chest is looking you straight in the eyes. “It’s different. Stronger. Sweeter.”

You look up at him, eyes wide, feeling something you’ve never quite felt before. Dread and thrill both building up in your stomach, like white-hot balls of metal expanding through your abdomen. Sharp bursts of adrenaline spiking through your body.

“Are you interested in me, new blood?” His deep, gritty voice had a strange new cadence to it, like warm honey pouring into your ears.

You inhale shakily. “I- don’t know how to answer that question.”

“Can I answer it for you?”

You don’t even know if the word “yes” had left your mouth yet before you were in Farkas’s grasp. One hand is gently gripping the back of your neck, and the other is caressing the top of your head, weaving fingers through your hair. His rough, salty lips are pressed against yours, hard. You reach out and place your hands on his hips, closing the gap between you. He quivers under your touch, then melts into it, grabbing a handful of your hair and pushing his tongue into your mouth.

After a few heated moments, he pulls back, much to your disappointment.

“Do you want this?” He asks, his voice sounding much darker now.

You look at him, confused. “Wh-“

“The beast-spirit inside of me. He wants you. Bad.” He fidgets with his hands, showing the first glimpse of true uncertainty and nervousness you’ve ever seen from him. “I don’t know if I can keep being gentle like this. I don’t want to-”

“Farkas.” You take his hands. “I don’t care. I’m yours.”

A lustful spark appears in his eyes. He grabs you by your waist, picks you up with ease, and pins you to his bed, desperately grabbing at your clothes and trying to pull them off.

He seems as stocky and strong as a tree trunk, every part of him laying over you like this. He reaches down and pulls his loincloth off, then lowers himself down, almost completely immobilizing you.

His hands wander up to your face, lazily at first, then grabbing you roughly and once more pushing his lips against yours. His hips begin to thrust slowly against yours, and you feel his hardening cock sliding up and down against your stomach.

“Mmm… you smell so good.” His hands travel across your body, greedily touching every part he can reach. Your own hand begins to drift downward, but he grabs your wrist and pins it above your head.

“You had your chance to lead,” he growls. “It’s my turn now.” He pins up your other hand and buries his face in the crook of your neck, sucking and biting, forcing high, breathy moans out of your mouth. His movement slowly grows more desperate, and you feel the same.

“Farkas…” you say pleadingly. He lets out a deep purr and snaps his hips against you in approval. He raises his head above yours. You stare into his eyes, and he stares back, perfectly mirroring the burning passion you feel. His soft raven hair hangs down perfectly around his broad, rugged face. He leans down and whispers into your ear, his hot breath tickling your skin and sending tingles down your back. “I’m going to make you mine.”

Without any more warning than that, he grabs your hips so hard you think he might leave handprints, and he pushes his tip inside of you. You let out a shuddering gasp, your hands shooting up and grabbing onto his biceps for dear life.

He begins to push further into you, his thick shaft throbbing and stretching you out. The pain felt so good. A keening moan escapes from your mouth. Farkas closes his eyes, and you can see the muscles feathering along his tightly-clenched jaw as he sinks deeper and deeper into you.

“Farkas,” you breathe out. “Farkas-” you yelp as he forcefully thrusts his full length into you. “Y-you’re so big…” you manage to stammer out. “Fu-uuck. Please, Farkas.”

He opens his eyes and smirks. He smirks at you.

“Please what, darling?”

“Fuck me,” you heave desperately, your nails digging into his skin. “Fuck me, Farkas, please, I-”

You’re cut off by his strong, meaty hand pressing over your mouth, covering half your face. He gives a firm but gentle squeeze. “Sshhh, shh-shh.” He purrs. “Can’t have you waking up the others.” He starts slowly thrusting again. “Or is that what you want? Does the new blood want all of Jorrvaskr to hear them whining like a dog?”

You can do nothing but squeeze your eyes shut, your whole body pulsating with the feeling of him inside of you. That white-hot feeling is back, even more intensely now, like a sun planted in your stomach.

“That’s right,” he groans, starting to speed up. “Good.” He squeezes your face tighter, his eyes closing again and his head tilting back in pleasure. His movements grow almost animalistic, shoving himself further and further inside of you over and over. Your body tenses up, vibrating with heat and ecstasy, his cock filling you up so deep you think you might pass out. Your moans are uncontrollable and muffled by his hand, while your own are nearly drawing blood from their death grip on his arms. He keeps pounding into you, grunting and moaning huskily, holding you solidly in place. Your hips snap back up in rhythm with his, your body twitching from the pleasure and strain. If not for him muzzling you, you would be crying out, screaming his name, moaning and keening in primal euphoria.

The ball in your stomach expands like molten metal, spreading through your body until it feels as if Farkas has filled every last inch of you. It builds and builds and builds-

Until he stops, hilt-deep inside of you. You squirm and cry out, frantic with lust and just on the edge of overstimulation from his huge cock. He hums smugly at your struggle, his face inches away from yours. “Look at you. Such a desperate little thing. You like being used like this?”

You nod, aggressively and pathetically. Farkas chuckles, and the deep, raspy sound of his subtle laughter is almost enough to send you over the edge right there. He shifts, taking his other hand and grasping both sides of your face, pushing his thumbs into your mouth.

“Stay quiet,” he growls, before continuing his merciless thrusts at the same pace he left off at. Without even meaning to, you clamp down on his thumbs between your teeth, letting out a flood of sharp, cut-off moans as he fucks you with reckless abandon. You almost can’t stand the speed and girth hammering into you, sending you into a state of complete, mindless hunger.

Through your feral haze, you see his bottom lip caught under his teeth, his eyes tightly closed, and his eyebrows knitted together. Then his mouth hangs open, and a small whimper escapes into the air.

The molten ball inside of you explodes, coating his length and squirting onto his thighs and stomach. You lay completely silent, convulsing and arching beneath him, consumed with bliss. You scratch helplessly at his shoulders, wordlessly begging, and Farkas complies, thrusting more sensually yet somehow rougher into you now. He covers your mouth again, and you allow the torrent of wild moans to erupt from within you as he continues to fuck you through your orgasm, every vein and ridge on his cock hitting you in all the right places.

Just when you think you might finally go unconscious, he pulls out and a thick ribbon of cum streams out onto your stomach. He looks to be reared back like a horse, holding tight onto your hips to keep from falling, head swung back as he shudders through his own orgasm.

Panting, he collapses onto you, practically forcing the air out of your lungs with his weight. You wrestle your arms out from under him and wrap them around his torso — or at least, as far around as they can reach.

“Fuck,” Farkas whispers hoarsely, enveloping you in his arms now and turning you both to your sides. You make a noise of agreement muffled by his chest.

“Are- are you gonna stay here?” He asks, a hint of nervousness in his voice. You make another noise, this one of more serene agreement. He exhales deeply and goes limp, pulling you closer to him. You were both far too hot and sweaty for his blankets, but not for your own skin against the other’s. Filled with contentment and… other stuff… you relish in his scent and the feeling of his body pressed against yours. You catch a glimpse of the moon from outside his window.

Who cares if he’s a werewolf, you think to yourself. Nothing could make me rethink this.

[helgiafterdark]

blah blah werewolf husbands blah blah blah

so, i just wanna talk about my personal characterizations of them. farkas is not some stupid bumbling brute with no brain and no feelings, and vilkas isn't just some angry angsty asshole (although at a surface level, i can see this). and this definitely heads into headcanon/fanfic territory.

farkas has the unique role of being the only companion we can actually witness transform into a werewolf (we do get to see aela in wolf form, but not her actual transformation and with no combat). and kodlak has convinced vilkas that sovngarde is a desirable goal incompatible with lycanthropy. so what does this mean?

clearly, farkas is more at ease with his own lycanthropy – his own self. he can transform into a wolf at will, he has amazing control over it. he is always calm and level-headed, he isn't concerned about any sort of bloodlust or rampages. i think this is due to his upbringing, surrounded by werewolves and warriors his entire life. this is his normal, his peace. i still believe his wolfblood burns hot within him, and he has moments where he loses control. but these moments are few and far between. his outer shell is a quiet calm man, who has moments of boisterousness and passion. and he is perceived as man of few words, or more negatively, a bad conversationalist. i think this contributes to the idea that he is stupid, but he isn't. he definitely doesn't have as much capacity to remember many historical facts like vilkas, but still he isn't stupid.

farkas has a rich inner dialogue and feels his emotions very deeply. yes, he has his personal trauma and other things he has dealt with which have possibly caused him to become withdrawn. but he has a very healthy outlet in hunting and fighting and training, especially considering he is literally not a human and biologically has a need to hunt (whether this aligns with human needs or morals is irrelevant).

and you'd think the same would apply to vilkas, but it doesn't. he is always grumpy at best, a whirling storm of fury at worst. he has bursts of anger, shouting, maybe even violence. combat is his main outlet, at jorrvaskr he can knock skulls together all day. but put him in a tavern and he will sulk in the corner all night. to most everyone else, he's moody, brooding, irritable, snobby, fun-intolerant, and has no problem laughing in your face when you ask a stupid question (although he'll tell you the answer anyway, because he certainly knows it). but there is an ache, deep in his heart. he has carried it with him for a very long time.

i believe in childhood vilkas was perhaps closer emotionally to their father, jergen, or had a stronger attachment to him. and when jergen left for war, vilkas took this much harder. he had to reason with himself and come up with some way for this loss and grief to make sense. so vilkas perceives this as abandonment, and maybe it was. and due to his environment and the people around him, the only thing this boy could understand was anger. then he latched onto another father figure, kodlak.

and we have to remember that kodlak wasn't always an old man. he was young, a powerful werewolf warrior who claimed many victories and looked glorious doing it. he still maintains a connection to talos in his old age, which he likely acquired in youth long before he became a werewolf. after jergen left and never returned, kodlak took on the responsibilities of instilling good values into those boys. i don't believe kodlak really taught them much about talos (somewhat secular upbringing). but he did teach them about honor, integrity, leadership, and security. over time, kodlak came to see them as his own sons. i think this is where kodlak's worries regarding sovngarde stem from; things are different now that he has children.

and when kodlak became disillusioned with lycanthropy, he projects onto vilkas and farkas, saying that they do not take to the blood as deeply. vilkas was easily convinced. farkas obviously just agrees with vilkas, he goes where his brother goes. but i think internally, farkas is extremely comfortable as a werewolf and would not choose to rid himself of his power. so when kodlak says farkas seems to be fine after swearing off transformations... well, i think it is because farkas would never give this up, and hasn't.

i think farkas' mental peace and clarity come from being his unrestrained self. he doesn't hold back his wolf, he embraces it fully. he regularly hunts in beast form, like aela and skjor. he transforms whenever he needs to, a powerful release of emotions and other energies. maybe farkas just wasn't as close to jergen, maybe he just has better emotional control and was able to efficiently cope with his grief. no matter the reason, he isn't as affected by this loss as his brother. (not to say farkas was entirely unaffected, but everyone has their own reaction to loss). however, farkas did very much look up to skjor. and when skjor dies, farkas is grieving. he expresses this verbally once and then never again. he's a man of few words, he contains his grief and other emotions.

vilkas' enduring anger, however, is worsened by holding himself back. he is convinced lycanthropy is a curse, that he isn't a true nord. so he doesn't transform into a wolf. he remains a man, every day, possibly for years. he is bottled up, repressed, waiting to be released but he will not allow this to happen. this is the illusion of self control. in holding himself back, he makes it so much harder to contain. he is absolutely itching with rage and he knows why but he is so stubborn. he has made up his mind; he will not transform. to him, this is strength. he believes his beastblood is his weakness. but i don't think werewolves should see their blood as a curse or a blessing. it is simply who they are, and it's important emotionally and mentally and physically to embrace who you are.

so basically, when farkas transforms into a wolf, he is completely in control and fully aware. this is what vilkas thinks he is, but in holding himself back he is actually on a path to losing control over his beastblood.

i love them <3

[hircines-hunter]

I was just checking to see what songs I used in Blood Moons and instead I kinda started to reread the fic.... and I love sifarkas so much..... they're gross and grossly in love. and... i just... i need help.... I'm so feral for them.

“Divines, you know how incredibly attractive you are? Fighting those hunters. Arguing with a Daedric Prince? If we weren’t being hunted….” He kissed her neck. “Simply beautiful.” Sifkni put her hands on his face and leaned down, kissing him. She hummed as she rested her forehead against his. “Do you know how attractive you are?” Farkas laughed. “Of course I do. You remind me almost every second.” “Good. You deserve that.” She kissed him again. “Go ahead and put me down.” She ran her fingers through his beard. “So incredibly handsome.” “Thank you.”

and this

“Have I told you that I love you today?” Farkas hummed. “Briefly. I think you might’ve mentioned something. Can’t remember that well. Or maybe I didn’t hear properly.” Sifkni laughed loudly. “I love you, husband. So very much.”

[umbracirrus]

Snippet Sunday!

So, @hircines-hunter tagged me in a snippet sunday post before, and yeah, I think I can do that :3 Done quite a bit of writing over the past few days for anyone but Elyse who is who I'm wanting to write for right now😭

Here's a bit of chapter 3, possibly chapter 4 of Tempest!

--------------------

Brynjolf, I'm alive. Somehow. A dragon attacked Helgen when I was scoping the town out… I would have been done for if not for a soldier seeing me alive in the rubble, apparently. I'm not in the best way at the moment. Burns and broken bones. Currently in the Temple of Kynareth in Whiterun, the priestess here has been tending to my injuries. I don't think I'll be in a state suitable for travel for a while. I'll be staying in Whiterun for the foreseeable future. I am sorry to ask this of you, but could you send me the belongings which I had intended to collect from Riften? I desperately need clothes. My own clothes specifically. I appreciate that I've been given some spare clothes from the temple to wear… but they smell terrible. And don't fit. Don't forget the armour either… you know the one. I've got the blade with me still, thankfully. Take care of yourself and the guild. You'll do great as the boss, Bryn. T.

Thorne had felt almost hesitant handing that letter over to the courier alongside a small bag of coin which Danica had kindly given to her after she had mentioned wanting to send a letter to her family. The priestess didn't need to know that the 'family' which she was talking about was the Thieves Guild. And thanks to her decision to distance herself from them… well, they weren't really her family now anyway.

All that she could do now was wait for a response, ideally with her belongings accompanying it, and hang around Whiterun. Danica had told her not to venture too far from the temple, just in case her injuries were to flare up any, so she had settled on sitting on a bench under the tree just outside the temple, picking flowers from around the bench and fiddling with their petals. It did, admittedly, frustrate her that she could hear a preacher of Talos crying out from nearby, but she did her best to try and ignore it by instead focussing on the sound of flowing water.

After a short while of hanging around there, she suddenly snapped to attention when she heard her name being called out, and frantically glanced around until she noticed Farkas descending the stairs leading to Jorrvaskr in the company of another man… who didn't half look similar to him. A brother or something?

"Thorne! It's good to see that you're out of the temple," Farkas grinned as he made his way over to her, grabbing the wrist of the other man in the process. "How are you doing? Injuries any better?"

"I… I'm okay, yes. Still some problems and pain, but… I'm getting better," she responded, noticing how the man in his company was now giving her a scowl. He really didn't seem friendly in the slightest. "Who is…?"

"Oh! This is my twin, Vilkas," he stated, giving Vilkas a playful nudge with his elbow. "Don't mind him. He isn't too friendly with anyone until you get to know him."

Vilkas made a quiet grunt noise as he shook his head. "We've got a job to do, Ice Brain. Come on."

Farkas frowned, then let out a sigh as Vilkas started walking away without another word. "Sorry about him. We'll chat again when I'm back, yeah?" He began to walk away, trying to keep pace with his brother. "And do consider what I mentioned the other day about joining us when you're feeling better!"

[dovahkinniez]

this is an absolutely, shamelessly feral idea- but i hope you’re up for writing submissive, bound farkas in sexual denial 😇

+ no pressure to write it ofc if u don’t like writing for submissive guys!

i saw another fic by someone else with the trope of farkas gone feral from his wolf blood, and asked to be bound down to his bed to try and calm himself, he wears a muzzle that muffles his speech and secretly wears a chastity belt underneath 👀 And so i thought up this continuation of the trope and was hoping you’d write it for me (istg ur work is so good i have like it all archived) Btw the fic is called Wolfs Blood I'm pretty sure.

maybe it would be his wolf blood acting up that made him not realize his internal desires, how he actually wanted to be in this situation for sexual pleasure rather than to calm himself, but he slipped up. being bound to his bed, unable to tell anyone to release him, muzzled and strained by his chastity belt? It would be so unlucky for him to be especially horny and turned on that night. such a pitiful sight for him to be effortlessly struggling in his binds, hot breath escaping his muzzle, demeanor cracking. DESPERATELY trying to release his core from its prison; but just simply can’t. And so effortlessly turned on from the fact that he can't. maybe the reader (who farkas def has a wild crush on at the time) would be the only one awake at that time, only one hearing the grunts and near silent wails from the other room, the only one to investigate it, opening the door to such a sight 😳

being so clouded by desperation and denial, embarrassment and self control completely subsided him as an affect of his heightened wolfs blood making him so honest; he would beg the reader to help him through muffled words. He would have meant for them to release him, to take off his muzzle even- but the reader would have other (consensual) plans, determined not to lose this opportunity to make the oh so strong farkas SOB.

( I honestly didn't plan on making the trope so descriptive but I think I had a little too much fun- still dont really know how you're supposed to request things here.. Nevertheless id b so happy if u could use it 2 make a smut or something. If u don't want to, that's completely okay!!!!!)

` 𖤓 . . . FARKAS.

First of all, thank you so very much for the compliment! I love seeing you guys tell me you like my writing, like fr makes me so happy.

(18+) I did do a semi sub! farkas fic not long back, but it just didn't involve kink, so maybe you'd also like to read that if you haven't. But as I said, it wasn't sub sub, ya get me? Idk. ANYWAY! Yes, submissive men >>>. Gotta love em, I just don't write it out a lot due to the fact most people like them dom (tell me if I'm wrong). So hell, yeah. I love this idea, and the idea from the fic you told me about (I haven't ever read it though). But I have once read a few anime character fics that work along the same lines so I am familiar with the whole 'in a rut and can't control self' thing, and I love it. :D

So credits to the op who wrote that fic, I don't want to steal that person's idea, of course.

I will try and make this as gender neutral as possible, but there may be mentions of a female bodied reader, I'm sorry if I do and that makes you feel uncomfortable, I adore you all. And enjoy!

18+ only! Sexual content ahead, minors dni!!

Hours. That's what it felt like. Fingertips burning as he tugs at the restrains, trying to find some release. It's not working. Eyes glazed over with frustration and desire, his blood is burning through his skin, he's counting down the hours until this...curse...wares off. Hoping the ache in his body subsides, so he can feel normal again. The ceiling grows misty from his lack of vision as he pushes his hips up, feeling the metal of the chastity belt rub against his needy flesh.

Gods, he needed release.

Whining and grunting as he aims to gain as much friction as possible yet it isn't enough. Feeling the hardness of his cock strain against the solid metal stings as it grows tighter against his skin, fuck it hurts.

Asking to be restrained but a few hours ago he didn't expect to feel this worked up already, he knew it'd be bad but not this fast. He feels his body changing each rut he falls into and since meeting... someone. He's noticed his desires increase until it hurts, now he's completely feral as he attempts to grind his restrained cock against the belt, all while thinking of you.

He wants you so fucking bad its driving him crazy.

You walk back in from a night's work, shaking the adrenaline off your limbs; wiping blood from your face with your hand, which is smeared in just as much blood. Cringing at the taste of the blood you make you way into the sleeping quarters, it's silent. Not wanting to make noise you creep around, hearing noise from Farkas' room you freeze slightly, hoping maybe he could help you with some clothes as you didn't want to wake anyone up making a ruckus to get a change of clean clothing.

This had became a routine, as Farkas stayed up late at night he became the person you'd go to if you needed anything after a late night job. In reality the night time was the only time you had Farkas to yourself, enjoying his company uninterrupted and without eyes watching, where you could be yourselves. You found Farkas more comfortable in speaking around this time.

Slowly opening the door the heat hits you, taking your breath slightly at the sheer temperature in the room, Farkas felt you by the door. He could smell you and the blood that coated your form, biting down onto his bottom lip as he pulls on the restraints until it burned at his skin.

"Y/n.." By Dibella. His deep voice broke out into a cry of desperation, the sight took you by complete surprise yet something in the air compelled you to shut the door behind you, watching him closely as he moves his body on the bed, in an attempt to try and get you.

Walking closer you take in the details, feeling the arousal seep through your veins, it was intoxicating as the heat from his body radiated through the entire room. "S-Stop..." "Stop what?" You reply as you watch the sweat on his heaving chest, the way his stomach sucks in as you grow closer, how his back arches, his thighs cling together, tight and muscular. "You're making it worse." He barely growls out, whines passing his mouth as he falls back, watching you with dozy eyes. "Do you need help, puppy?" "Don't tease me." Inside he was begging, pleading and the way his hips push up tells you exactly just that.

Smirking, you begin to realise the power you hold in this situation. He's ready, hot and looking at you with needy eyes, all for you to play with. He notices your smirk, the way you snake your way onto the bed, watching his body as he shakes from not only the rut but now you too. He's always wanted this.

He just didn't realise how badly.

Slowly taking off your armour, he watches with bated breath. "Tell me, do you need help?" You ask again, he watches the blood drip across your naked form as you take ahold of his legs, parting them between you as he lifts himself up, he could cum alone at the sight and smell of you.

"Y/n-" "Farkas. Yes or no. Do you need help?" You cut him off, eyes sharp as he gulps with a nod, "Use your voice, puppy." You smile gently, almost innocently as you rub your hands up his muscular thighs, tugging at the straps of the belt he wiggles his hips up, wanting to be freed.

"Yes. Please. F-Fuck." He hums out, his lip almost bloody from biting down. "I need you-" Farkas whimpers out as you lean up, running your hands across his body, squeezing at his muscles and his neck as he pushes his head back, "Fuck. Me ... Please." He chokes out between breaths as you giggle while licking and kissing against his abs and v-line. "Patience, puppy." He had none. He had been wanting, needing and waiting for too long. He needed release.

You knew this. You decided to take advantage of it instead. So cruel.

"I can't-" "Ah-Ah." You smack his thigh, Farkas mutters a shy sorry, causing you to smile against his skin, "Good boy." Fuck. He felt whatever blood left up shoot right down, his cock pressing against the belt and he swore it felt as if it were bleeding from the pain. Whimpering as he attempts to close his legs, you slap his thigh again, grabbing at the hot flesh as he takes a deep breath in.

Biting and licking against his neck, bruises litter across the skin, you lick up his neck as he moans out, your fingers tangled through the raven locks of his hair as Farkas hangs his head back, like putty in your hand he follows each movement and each motion you make. Hot and sweaty under you, his body laid out ready to be fucked as he whines each time you make eye contact in a desperate attempt for more.

"You're so impatient." You hum out. He only whines more. "Do you want me to suck your cock?" You ask, he moans out, feeling his dick twitch against the metal desperately for your mouth. You laugh out, looking at him as if he were weak and pathetic and fuck, he loved it.

Slowly taking the chastity belt off you pepper kisses along his torso, releasing his cock as it slaps against his stomach, hot and heavy, tip leaking and angrily red.

You couldn't help but laugh, leaning back and simply watch him as his hips jolt, his cock twitching with need. "Please." "Patience." You shush him, running your finger across his thigh, until it reaches to his ballsack, using your hands you tug and gently massage, he grits his teeth, his cock bobbing with anticipation and all you do is watch, eyes low and glued to his face as he watches with a helpless expression, panting for more. Rubbing your hand up to his cock, feeling each vein and the wetness that formed a string from the tip to his stomach, you form a fist around him, slowly pumping, watching his dick swallow your hand as he let's out groans and whines. Fuck, he sounds hot.

You wish to stay there longer, but your mouth waters at the sight and the sounds before you, but it didn't matter how fast leaned down to move your mouth because to poor Farkas it felt hours before he noticed you slowly lean down to lick the tip, gathering the precum on your tongue before you slowly take him I'm your mouth, your jaw expanding until it hurt due to the thickness he bared. "Ohhhhhh ..... Fuck yeah." He breathed out, louder than he expected. Biting down on his bottom lip to mask his moans and to mirror the pain you were causing in his thighs as you dig your fingernails into them, gripping tightly while trying to fit more of him inside your mouth.

It almost felt impossible, too big. Poor puppy is too large for his own good yet he shakes and moans just as well while you lick and press your tongue against him, sucking and licking while making all sorts of ungodly sounds, Farkas listens and forces his own sounds to quieten as he rolls his eyes back, leaning back onto the bed. Arching his head back as you wrap your hands around him, pumping him while focusing your sweet mouth on his weeping tip. Farkas moans like the good boy he is, "Please... I need to come.." He begs, as you rub and fist the saliva that oozed out your mouth and down his shaft.

Tears roll down your cheeks from the sheer size of the man, yet his tears where from pure frustration as you fuck his cock with your pretty mouth and skilled hands. "Cum for me, puppy. Be a good boy." You say lowly, he whimpers and arches his back as he pulls on the restraints. "Fuck - fuck." He grunts as you bob your head up and down, hands rub and please his cock and his balls as your mouth licks and sucks until you feel him pulsating, squirting cum onto your tongue as you groan, you mouth rumbling against him as you tilts your head, licking and sucking down the edges on him, licking at the oozing cum as he continues to moan out like the whore he is, thighs clenched into stone until he gives way, limp and sweaty, whimpering breathlessly as you clean him up with your tongue.

"Gods. I'm not finished." Tonight was going to be a long night. Good job you haven't fucked yourself on him yet.

[deadlymousex01]

Skyrim Characters when you get hurt

Farkas, Brynjolf, Nazier, Aela, Arnbjorn, Lydia

You got hurt on a mission and there were no healing potions readily available (but let's face it if your actually playing skyrim you're usually stocked on those things, also for the sake of this story you don't have a healing spell). Sorry if this is a long one! Hope you enjoy! :)

Farkas

Farkas carefully wraps the bandage around your injuries making sure to not hurt you further. He's trying so hard to focus on helping you feel better but you can tell by the way his brow is scrunched he's more than a little annoyed you went so far into the barrow without him.

He got caught up dealing with some draugr and by the time he finished with them you were gone, so focused on your goal you didn't realize you'd left him behind until you were dealing with three draugr deathlords. You'd managed to keep them all at bay between shouts and your sword, even killing one of them, but they managed to get a few good hits in and if it wasn't for Farkas showing up you might have joined the dead. Once the two of you had finished them off your adrenaline had worn off and the decent cut down your back and side made it impossible to travel further, so instead Farkas got you both into a cleared out room and secured the door for the night so you could rest without risk of attack.

Now he was currently bandaging a cut along your arm and a wave of guilt washed over you. You had first been annoyed by his fussing, reminding him once again you were the dragonborn and perfectly capable of taking care of yourself but seeing his concern and worry made those feelings disappear quickly and be replaced by guilt. Once he finished with your arm he set to work building a small fire in the little pit in the room as you leaned back against the wall watching him.

"I'm sorry Farkas." You say softly. You know he's listening as his hands pause their movements even as he continues to face away from you. "I shouldn't have been so distracted and gotten so far ahead without you. We were warned this barrow was dangerous and I was reckless...I'll try to be more mindful about my surroundings in the future." You see his shoulders rise and fall with a sigh as the fire starts up. He moves to kneel in front of you, worry written all over his face, as he brings a large battle worn hand up to cup your cheek.

"I just want you to be careful, if anything happened to you..." He trailed off, but you knew what he wanted to say. Many think he's just a thickheaded brute but you knew better. Under that all that gruff was a intelligent and caring man. He sighed again looking you in the eyes. "I know you are a capable warrior, the dragonborn, and I don't want to belittle you but...please stay close to me until were out of the place."

You bring one hand up to gently hold his wrist and bring your other to cup his cheek like he's doing to yours with a smile. "I promise, and thank you for saving me, my big strong wolf." He returns your smile with a huff of a laugh before bringing his forehead forward to lightly rest against yours "You're welcome, my ferocious little dragon."

Brynjolf

"Of all the boneheaded, reckless, stupid stunts I've seen what you just pulled has got to be the stupidest one!" Brynjolf's angry whisper tickles your ear as he leans dow to talk to you. The plan was supposed to be simple; He would create a distraction downstairs in the basement of the estate to draw the guards down and then you would sneak in and rob them blind as the owner was supposed to be out for the night and his wife was not home. Well it didn't exactly work like you planned.

Brynjolf had to wait a little longer than expected to get into the estate as the owner was standing in front of the door he needed to get into talking with a guard. Deciding you didn't need a distraction you snuck into the building without him. It was going well in the beginning however you forgot to consider the owners mistress who was visiting her lover for the night. She had been sleeping in the bed and heard you sneaking around in the room over and came to investigate. You had been so busy trying to break into a safe you didn't hear her until it was to late and her dagger stabbed into your shoulder.

Luckily she had terrible aim and in the dark it was even worse so instead of stabbing into your shoulder it missed and ran the blade down the back of your shoulder and back. Your scream of pain and surprise, as well as turning around with your own dagger, caused her to scream in return and start drawing the guards upstairs. You managed to get out the window again and drop to the ground where Brynjolf was still hiding nearby. He knew what was going on the minute he heard the screams and saw the guards run into the house giving the two of you the chance to run.

You didn't get to go to far when the guards started running after you, so Brynjolf had pushed you into a small space between houses and pressed himself up against your back in order to fit himself. The wound on your back ached and burned but the feeling of your lovers body against yours helped distract you from it.

Once the guards had moved off elsewhere he slowly left the space before helping you out as well. Turning you around with his hands he lowered your collar to examine the cut.

"You're lucky your armor protected you from the worst of it, you'll need a couple stitches but you'll be fine." He turned you back to face him as he crossed his arms. "You could of been killed and it would of been because you were being stupid." You knew he was right but that didn't stop the annoyed feeling rising up at his tone.

"Oh like you've never made a bad call during a job."

"Oh plenty love," He said leaning down to be face to face with you with that signature smirk "But I'm clever enough to get away with it." You roll your eyes before turning to walk away. "You're a cocky bastard Bryn." He stops you but grabbing your arm and pushing you back until your trapped between the wall of the house and his body still smirking down at you.

"Aye love, that I am, and you can't resist it."

Nazier

You start to wake with a pounding in your head. As your open your eyes you realize you're back in the sanctuary, laying on one of the beds. You go to lift your arm but a sharp pain prevents you from doing so, instead you turn your head to see Nazier walking up to your bedside, a mug of water in his hand. He sits down in the chair next to your bed and helps you take a few drinks of water before setting it down on the end table and gently taking your uninjured hand.

"How are you feeling? We would of given you a potion but Gabriella said you needed to wake up first or it could do more damage than good." he explained gently running a hand through your hair, careful to avoid any hurt areas.

"I'm sore and hurting all over...how did I get here? Last thing I remember we were hunting down that rouge in the woods." Your head hurts as you try to recall memories that are escaping you. Nazier scooted his chair a little closer so he could lean against the bed.

"Turns out that rouge was a werewolf. The we hadn't any indication of that otherwise we would of been ready for him. You had managed to get close to him but he either smelled you or heard you because he changed quickly and hit you so hard you went flying back into a tree..." He trails off for a moment giving your hand a gentle squeeze. "For a minute after that I thought you were dead."

Your heart ached at the sound of his voice. It was so broken and hurt, like he was truly afraid he had lost you. Of course it could of been true, werewolves are hard to fight when your prepared for them let alone when you aren't. You squeeze his hand back encouraging him to continue.

"I managed to kill him and ran to check on you. You were hurt pretty bad, my healing spells are rusty but I managed to heal you enough to be able to move you and get you back here. Gabriella and Babette got you bandaged up and healed a bit more, but then it's just been waiting for you to wake up. You've been out for two days."

You gently bring your hand up to his cheek and give him a small smile unable to give him the comforting hug you want to. He leans into your touch before leaning down to place a soft kiss to your lips. You knew he must have been extremely worried if he's being so affectionate where the others could see. While the whole family knew the two of you were together, Nazier wasn't one to how it off much.

"Next time you go out I'm going to make extra sure we know everything about the next mark, I'm not going to let you go in blind again." You hum contently feeling safe with him nearby and as he leaves to get the healing potion you close your eyes knowing it will be a while before he lets you out of his sight again.

Aela

You limp toward Whiterun holding your side, the injury wasn't life threatening thankfully as you had been wearing your steel armor but like a idiot you hadn't remembered to bring a healing potion so now you had to endure the long walk back to Jorrvaskr. As you grew closer to the gates you could smell Aela's scent getting closer. Sure enough around the bend she came looking annoyed and worried at the same time.

"I could smell your blood from the gate, how badly are you injured? Why didn't you bring any healing potions?" She asks coming up next to you and lifting your arm to allow her to inspect your injuries. You wince as she does so, the sudden movement pulling at the wound and causing you to flinch.

"I'm fine Aela...ow...I just forgot to get some before I left since I didn't want to lose the silver hands scent. I had the element of surprise and I wasn't going to waste the chance to get 'em." You pull your arm around of her grip and lower it to relieve the strain it was putting on your side. "I had them all nearly taken care of when one pulled a hidden dagger out on me. Just got me by surprise but I'm fine. My armor blocked most of it."

She gives you a firm glare before poking your side causing you to flinch and yell in pain. "You are clearly not fine. Now lets go, don't want you to bleed out in the street." She moves to your good side and drapes your arm around her shoulders so you can lean against her for support. She leads the way through the streets gaining you both a few curious looks before you make it back to the hall. Leading you inside and to your shared room she sits you on the bed and begins to help remove your armor to look at the damage. Even with a healing potion it would need stitched up so she sits on the bed next to you and begins sewing the skin shut giving you the potion to help with the process.

"While I'm all for knocking a few silver hand heads, I wish you would of told me you were leaving to do it. I would of given you back up and probably prevented this from happening." Her quick and nimble hands make easy work of the stitches before she starts wrapping bandages around your chest and waist. "We've already lost two important people to the Companions... and to me ...I really don't want to lose anyone else. So next time, clue me in on your plans so I can make sure you don't kill yourself by accident alright?"

You nod as she finishes with the bandages and helps you lay back on the bed before joining you herself. Snuggled up together you give her a small gentle kiss "I'm sorry for worrying you Aela, I promise to tell you when and where I'm going next time."

"Good, cause if you don't I may be the one stabbing you."

"Wouldn't want it any other way, love."

Arnbjorn

"Arnbjorn, calm down! I'm fine, really, look! See? I'm fine!" This was of course a lie; your left leg was cut up and bleeding, your right arm was just as bad, you were pretty sure your left wrist was broken, and you could be sure you had at least one black eye and a cut lip. In truth you looked like hell however Arnbjorn was one move away from shifting into his werewolf form in a rage and going out and unleashing hell on anyone and everyone, wether they were involved in the bandits that did this or not.

Arnbjorn's chest was heaving so badly from his heavy breathing and growling, and his eyes had almost gone full black in rage you wondered if he was even hearing you or was just lost fighting the beast inside. While you knew he would never hurt you, you didn't want him to hurt one of the family by accident or go on a rampage in Dawnstar and force all of you to move again. You slowly limp toward him, every movement of your leg sending shooting pain up it, until you were close enough to cup his face in your hands.

"Arnbjorn...please...breathe. I know you want to help and the best way for you to do that is calm down so you can help me. Please love, for me." The mission had gone badly. The target had been ready for you and managed to capture you. They had started to torture you in the hopes of finding the rest of your family but you managed to get away and kill your target before you left. Arnbjorn had smelled your blood the moment you walked into the sanctuary and when he saw you, the beast started taking over.

His breathing started to slow down as you held his face and his body began to slowly relax. You watched as his eyes slowly returned to color before he let out a long slow sigh closing his eyes before opening them again. Without a word he immediately scooped you up into his arms and carried you downstairs and into the master bedroom of the sanctuary. He sat on the bed with you in his lap, protectively holding you against his chest as if the bandits were going to show up to finish the job. Babette came in and bandaged your wounds giving you a healing potion for the pain. After she left she shut the door leaving the two of you alone.

Arnbjorn buried his head into your neck deeply breathing in your scent and letting out a low growl. "I will be going out and killing the rest of those bastards." This wasn't a surprise, you knew he would. After losing and being betrayed by Astrid it had taken him so long to be open to the idea of having a mate again and once he did he was even more paranoid; making sure he knew where you were traveling to, who you were talking to, what your plans were, that your weapons were sharp and in the best condition, that your armor was intact. He had loosened up and a lot of these but he had been so hurt by Astrid betrayal you knew this was just what he needed to do to allow himself to be open to you yet still protect himself and you.

He laid you carefully on the bed and then laid next to you allowing you to position yourself against him comfortably without hurting yourseld further. "I know you will, I know you'll always protect me when I need it." He grunted in response before burying his face in your neck again.

"You're not leaving this sanctuary again until your wounds are completely healed...and even then I might not let you." You huff a laugh starting to feel drowsy from everything that had happened the last two days.

"Yes, love."

Lydia

Lydia let out a grunt as she helps slide down the wall to sit on the ground outside of the cave the two of you had just explored. Neither of you had expected the cave to be full of vampires however once you discovered it was you had been determined not to leave until you had cleared it out as it was so close to Morthal.

The two of you had gotten most of them taken care of when a gargoyle popped out and surprised you both. Its claws got a good cut in across both your legs and while you had managed to kill it you were definitely not walking very well by the time you had made it back to the entrance, needing Lydia to help you limp your way out.

"Here my love, rest here while I see if I have a healing potion or bandages." She digs through her bag managing to find a small healing potion and a few rags to cut up for bandages. Offering you the potion she cuts the rags into strips before carefully bandaging your legs.

"You'll need to rest here for a day before you'll be strong enough to reach Morthal. That potion was enough to heal your legs so you don't bleed out but you need to build up some strength. Wait here, I'm going to grab some firewood before it gets dark." When you nod in response she leaves for several minutes before returning with some wood. She sets up the fire before lighting it and then moves toward you. She removes her leg armor and sets it aside to help you lay down with your head in her lap.

"Thank you Lydia, you really were my shield in there. I probably wouldn't be here right now if it wasn't for you." You smile up at her, legs feeling numb from the potion working its magic. She gives you a smile running her fingers through your hair as you close your eyes and let out a sigh of contentment.

"Of course, you're not just my thane, you're my love. I would do anything to protect you, even lay down my own life for yours." You bring a hand up to stroke her cheek and she takes it in hers giving it a soft kiss.

"Let's hope it never comes to that dear, after all, someone needs to go home to the kids."

[argisthebulwark]

Catch Up, Princess.

summary: Calling him 'princess' <3 gn reader, no pronouns or y/n used. feat: Farkas, Miraak, Vilkas, Brynjolf warnings: none masterlist

"Morning, Princess." Farkas would grin, flopping easily into your lap. His cheeks are flushed when he gazes up at you, clearly amused by the pet name. "Good morning my love." His voice is still rough with sleep, eyes squinting against the golden light peeking through the curtains. "You're so pretty." You gush, brushing stray hair out of his face. His skin is still warm from sleep when you caress his face, soft brown eyes gazing up at you. "You're so pretty." He kisses your fingers, clearly pleased with the attention you're lavishing upon him.

"Hey, Princess. Whatcha workin' on?" Miraak sighs, head falling into his hands. You're certain that ink is staining his skin, quill dropped lazily onto whatever scrap of notes he'd been taking before your intrusion. The anguish in his expression is quite entertaining but you stifle back the laugh, awaiting whatever dramatic response he has. "Never in my life did I think I'd be faced with such blatant disrespect." He mumbles, collapsing into his chair. "For ages humans have feared to speak my name, reverent followers dutifully saying 'my lord' and falling to their knees in fear before me." Sharp eyes cut toward you, color raising in his cheeks. "And here you stand without an ounce of fear." "For what it's worth, you'd make a very pretty princess." You grin, relishing the way his teeth grind. "My lord."

"Time for dinner, Princess." Vilkas would huff and roll his eyes but you catch the blush in his cheeks. He clings to that tough exterior in front of your fellow Companions but you know just how soft and squishy he is deep, deep down. "Cut it out." He grumbles, though he doesn't protest when your hands cup his face. Stubble scrapes at your palms when that sweet, grumpy expression softens. "You're cute when you pout." "I will cut your hands off." "You will not." He mutters something nasty under his breath before rising from his desk. There's still color in his cheeks when he drags you toward the main hall, clearly wanting to ignore the pet name.

"Thanks, Princess." Brynjolf freezes, hand still outstretched after handing off a stack of parchment. You only get a few seconds to enjoy catching him off guard, it doesn't happen often. The man's reflexes are usually too good. "What's that, love?" He stammers and oh, how you enjoy the sight of Brynjolf collecting himself. He blinks off the moment of hesitation, leaning across your desk. "Thank you for the documents, Bryn." "That name sems more fittin' for you." He leans closer, lips brushing your ear when his damned voice wraps so nicely around that term of endearment. "Princess."

[wolfclad]

For all his size and strength, Farkas is at the bottom of the Circle’s dominance hierarchy.  Even within the wider faction, there are Companions bold enough to put him down, and seem to do so without consequence. This is despite Farkas’ assertion that: “Some people don’t think I’m smart. Those people get my fist.”

We never see Farkas push back, not physically, not verbally.  Although he is frequently belittled by his comrades, he speaks kindly to and of them.  This is despite the fact that he and Vilkas were the youngest candidates to be granted the honour of becoming Companions.  I think it’s important to remember that Farkas has a proven record of serving the faction well and with honour, to the extent that he has been elevated to the Circle and gifted lycanthropy. Some interactions for context:

Skjor: “Farkas!” Farkas: “Did you call me?” Aela: “Of course we did, icebrain. Show this newblood where the rest of the whelps sleep.” Farkas: “Relax, newblood.” Torvar: “I’ve been hunting on my own for years.” Farkas: “Fighting people is different. Smarter.” Torvar: “Some of ‘em, anyway.” Farkas: “You only use the little swords.” Athis: “It’s called a shortsword, you oaf. It’s quicker. Sharper. And it can cut through a whale like a razor.”

It isn’t simply external.  Farkas himself has absorbed these opinions and is quick to defer to others. There is even a submissive element:

Farkas: “I’ve never been a smart one. But the Companions welcome anyone with the heart of a warrior.” Farkas: “My brother Vilkas is a better talker than me. He should be around someplace.” Farkas: “Too confusing for me. Empire, Nords, Talos. Who cares? Just tell me who needs bludgeoning.” Farkas: “Oh, you don’t need to worry about me. I do what I’m told.” Farkas: “You go if you want to. I’ve never seen bones this large, and want to make sure I remember them so I can tell the story right. Otherwise Vilkas will just say I was making it up.” Farkas: “I don’t like making him [Skjor] angry, but there is some work for you if you want it.” Farkas: “Aela said that you were hers. I don’t know what she meant… she scares me.”

Vilkas, at least, is openly fond of his brother, though he too makes mention of Farkas’ perceived low intelligence – “I love my brother, but his brains are not his strong suit” – and on one occasion, he appears to gently redirect his twin during a group discussion:

Aela: “And you avenged him.” Farkas: “Kodlak did not care for vengeance.” Vilkas: “No, Farkas, he didn’t. And that’s not what this is about.”

It is Kodlak’s journal that we see more positive descriptors applied to Farkas.  The harbinger writes:

Until we can pursue a true cure, the twins and I have chosen not to give in to the beastblood.  For me, it’s provided a clearer head, but Vilkas seems to be suffering a bit for it.  Farkas seems completely untroubled.  That boy continues to amaze with his fortitude. Aela is too solitary, Vilkas too fiery, and Farkas too kind-hearted.

But the journal also hints at Farkas being easily influenced, his tendency to follow his brother:

Farkas didn’t know what to think, but I believe he will come around with me and his brother eventually.  He usually does.

I do feel Vilkas is the first person Farkas turns to, that he follows his brother’s lead almost blindly – which undoubtedly puts pressure on Vilkas.  He trusts his twin to do the thinking for them both, to explain matters to him in a way he can understand:

Farkas: “He [Skjor] was the one I looked up to. I need to find my brother.” Farkas: “Vilkas says you’re the new Kodlak. I don’t know what that means, but you seem honourable, so that’s good.”

My perspective:  Farkas is someone who has been belittled over the long course of years, picked at like a wound until he has learned to make himself smaller, more pliable.  It is an insidious part of the culture of the Companions, and it likely started in the days of his boyhood – next to his academically brilliant and deep-thinking brother, Farkas was seen as lacklustre, witless. Like @hircineswrath, I believe Arnbjorn would have given both twins a hard time.  Furthermore, new recruits learn from established members that Farkas can serve as a verbal punching bag, that he will still think highly of those who demean him, because he considers them family, and he sees the best in everyone: “Skjor and Aela like to tease me, but they are good people.”

Farkas is simply wired differently.  My interpretation is that he is a kinesthetic learner, and in modern settings he would be identified as dyslexic, possibly even as having ADHD.  In Skyrim, a medieval-esque society that doesn’t understand neurodiversity, he gets branded as an oaf, and icebrain, a fool.  Persistently told that he is these things, he begins to believe it.  Why else is one of his primary skills speech, and yet he rarely uses his voice?  He may not be eloquent, but he is emotionally intelligent and able to see straight to the heart of matters.  And through it all, he remains kind.