A party of adventurers has hired you to “raise their spirits”. You’re wondering when to break the news that you’re not a bard. You’re a necromancer that plays the harp as a hobby.
My nayme is Bard
And it is said
I spred the tale
That all men dred
Of party’s sords
Twix nek an hed
In simple truth,
I raise the dead
Villain: “You and I are very much alike, you know.”
Hero: “I realize that.”
Villain: “Doesn’t that trouble you?”
Hero: “Why would it? I share most of my genome with sewer rats.”
Villain: “But our similarities mean that, deep down, you’re a bad person. There’s nothing stopping you from being just as evil as I am!”
Hero: “Sure there is. I’m stopping me.”
Villain: “But in your heart you crave—”
Hero: “Sometimes when I’m in a crowded building I get the sudden urge to just boop a stranger right on the nose. But I don’t do it, because that would be super rude and weird. Does having that compulsion in the first place make me just as much of a weirdo as if I had acted on it? Maybe it does in your eyes, but to the would-be boopee, it makes all the difference in the world.”
Villain: “We’re not talking about booping noses, we’re talking about killing peop—”
Hero: “Look, dude, I’m sure murder can be really satisfying. But I’ve decided that I don’t want to murder people, and I think that’s very sexy of me. Look at me. With a little self-restraint, you might have had what I have.”
Villain: “But surely it disturbs you, doesn’t it? To know how close you are to snapping. Don’t deny it. There’s so much darkness in your heart. Do you really think they’d still love you if they knew? They’d be disgusted by you. They’d hate you, for thinking so much like me.”
Hero: “That’s the difference, isn’t it? Between you and I. One tiny difference. That’s all it takes. That’s the line between good and evil.”
Villain: “What?”
Hero: “You saw your own darkness and let it destroy you. You surrendered to it the moment you realized it was there. You threw open the door for it and welcomed it inside and let it rob you of your humanity without even a word of protest because you just couldn’t imagine it was something you could fight.”
Villain: “And you, oh-so-sanctimonious one?”
Hero: “I said ‘no thanks’. That’s it. That’s the difference.”
Villain: “Did you just—did you just—”
Hero: “Boop your nose? You’re right. It did feel good.”
I’m still salty!
The sun is probably the closest thing we’ll ever have to a true Eldritch Abomination. Hear me out here-
You are a devout Paladin trying to prevent the resurrection of a dark goddess. Ultimately you fail. When the goddess awakens, she claims that she doesn’t know who she is or what has happened. After a few days you’re struggling to determine if she actually has amnesia or if she is just lying.
It wasn’t what I had expected.
I had expected…. Oh… the usual things. Clouds of smoke, maniacal laughter, some monstrous being… they were always monstrous, whether fair or foul of face.
Not this. Not an egg.
It is already hatching, a jagged opening showing in the greyish, mottled shell. Even as I watch, small pale hands show, gripping the edge and breaking another piece of it away.
When I approach the egg and look down into it, I see a child. I would have guessed her at eight or nine, if I wasn’t seeing her hatching before my eyes. If I didn’t know she was Rek’na reborn.
When she sees me she lifts her little arms to me, like a toddler wanting to be picked up. “Help… pl’s…” she says pitifully, her voice wavering and uncertain. Are they her first words? They must be. Even though I know what she is, they pull at my heart. This is a child. I have never harmed a child, even one that might grow to be the darkest of goddesses. When she looks up at me, I know I can’t do it now.
I open the egg a little further, so the sharp edges won’t scrape her soft skin. When I lift her out with gauntleted hands, I try to be gentle. There were preparations made for her hatching, I can see… lengths of silk cloth to wrap her in, dishes of raw meat and bowls of what might be wine or blood. The priests and priestesses had their plans.
But they are dead or fled, and I wrap the child in my cloak and cradle her against one shoulder. She wraps her small arms around my neck trustingly, and I carry her out of the hidden temple to where I hid my horses. There I dress her in a spare shirt – four of her would fit inside it, for I am big and she is very small – and feed her her first meal. I don’t have fresh meat, and am not sure it would be wise to give it to her if I did, but I feed her bean porridge with salted meat, and a round of dry journey-bread, and she eats it eagerly.
I know I should destroy her. But she is a child.
Somewhere in France. This beautiful building is a Pigeonnier (pigeon house)
Baba Yaga tried to save a few bucks, ordered a house on Wish. Got a birdhouse instead of a bird-house.
I dreamt that some ludicrously overpowered space emperor destroyed a planet and then turned to me like, “okay, help me rebuild it” and there was absolutely no angst in the dream beyond the frustration of trying to explain to a boss that he’s given you a gargantuan undoable task and you can’t complete it
he was like “hm... crops are important... can you put some farms in?” and I told him that no, agriculture was off the table since there was currently no atmosphere
IDK seems like the person who somehow survived the destruction of a planet, and is on speaking terms with the creature that did it, might just possibly be qualified to help with rebuilding
I was an employee
This sounds like the sort of boss that would tell you they have a legit license, honest, so just go pirate a new atmosphere to use temporarily until they find it.
Anonymous asked:
Originally dxed with just ASD, I got assessed again and was dxed with ADHD (combined) and ASD with intellectual and language impairment. My full scale IQ was 112. I was under the impression that intellectual disability was IQ under 70. So I'm... confused. What does all of this mean?
IQ is a very broad way to calculate a very specific metric of generalized intellectual ability. It doesn’t tell you much, especially without knowing the numbers actually used in the equation to calculate IQ. You can generally ignore it unless your diagnostic report called specific attention to it.
To learn more about IQ, the equation is MentalAge / ChronoAge * 100 = IQ and mental age is a racist, sexist, classist mess poorly understood because of pop culture. Google can help you from there.
What this tells me is that you have ADHD, asd, and probably have an above average or better capacity to learn “smart things” (Average or high IQ) but have a language impairment or learning impairment that makes retaining information AND/OR applying that information to your life hard enough for you to qualify as a disability in its own right or as part of something else. But there is no specific “intellectual impairment” diagnosis by itself.
I am guessing here, but your intellectual impairment was probably specified because either your language impairment or ADHD or more likely BOTH, actually make it hard for you to exercise your inherent ability to apply your smarts (IQ) in a practical way.
When ASD is diagnosed it is diagnosed with a specifier “with” or “without” intellectual impairment. But there is no “intellectual impairment” diagnosis in the DSM.
In the case of ASD “intellectual impairment” means anything that affects a broad category of things, from “smart” intelligence to emotional intelligence to relationship management to your general ability to live independent. It can also mean a diagnosable intellectual disabilty (ID) like what most people think of (Down syndrome, for example) or stuff Non-verbal learning disorder, or dyslexia, or even ADHD in its own right, despite not being an “intellectual” disorder.
This all to say, you can be smart (average or high IQ) and have an intellectual impairment (as a specifier to ASD) without having a named, diagnosable intellectual impairment or disability (ID) on paper, even if you display traits or symptoms similar to an ID.
Other things that can cause acute or chronic symptoms of intellectual impairment without having a specific diagnosis for an ID range from ADHD to TBIs, and even depression, anxiety, ptsd, epilepsy, and more. Like, mental health problems in general cause mental problems, including related to applying intelligence.
All that said, I am not an expert in IDs. This is my understanding based on some schooling, some activism, and knowing the right people.
For someone who REALLY knows the line between intellectual impairments and diagnosable intellectual disability (ID) and developmental disabilities (DD) like ADHD and autism, head over to Twitter or Facebook and look up Morénike Giwa Onaiwu, and check out their books.
They are my go-to for understanding IDs in general, and especially where they differ and overlap with DDs. I have worked with them before on multiple projects and they are one of my favorite people to learn from.
Anonymous asked:
entire families of housecat khajiit dedicated to the secret branch of the dark brotherhood who's only job is to knock things over
esoscreenshots answered:
dark botherhood
Sweet Mother, sweet Mother, send your kitten unto me, for the sins of the unworthy must be baptized in mess and mild annoyance.
Child: Anyhow, go to riften, and push the old bat of a headmistress
Player: Off a counter?
Child: NooooOOOOooooo. Off a bridge!
Player: …
Child: I’ll give you belly skritches and kiss your kitty beans
Player: … K.
I think if I was an ancient human I too would believe in multiple terrifying Gods given that I’d be strolling around and might run into one of these bastards
or these dnd-esque shadows of fear coming from above
I think humans invented sophisticated language just to describe this thing to each other
as our father art say, religion is stored in the fucked-up-looking-deer thing.
If I was a god I would choose to roam the earth as megafauna so like I get it
if I was a god I’d walk around like this
it’d feel appropriate
If I was a human I would intimidate other humans by being composed of hundred and hundreds of humans crudely lashed together.
“of course I am human! as you can see, i am made entirely out of human!”
Great news for the local Eldritch Horrors out there! Every human is made up of AT LEAST two humans, and with the marvel of technology, sometimes three humans. Everyone is off to such a great start towards that hundreds of humans already and I couldn’t prouder of all y'all. Not get out there and lash more humans to your Essence.
out west they call me the Migraine Kid. aint nobody who could get a headache faster than me, and when the lawmen come the loud bangin and bright flashes of their guns only serve to make me even crankier
When did we collectively decide that tall buildings don’t touch the sky, or reach it, or climb it, but scrape it
As a 6'4 person I’m always scraping my head on things like door frames and beams and cabinets, and tall buildings are at least a couple inches than that so it makes sense to me.
For pride this year, I hope more people come to understand that nonbinary can mean H^ψ=Eψ.
A Vampire’s appearance will shift to resemble that which they feed on the most. Trust not the ones who are visions of human beauty - for friends they are not. Instead seek those with a monstrous countenance such as that of rats, lizards or even insects because those are our true friends.
There are no laws that say we can’t feed on humans. It’s not even a taboo per se to feed primarily on humans. But it is a statement.
As a teenager, it is a fashion statement. Highschool IS required for vampires, too. What we look like changes year to year, school to school.
As an adult, it is a sociopolitical statement. And since we have nothing better to do, we like to make sure that everyone else knows what our position in The Debate is. So we throw a LOT of parties.
Which is why we have, as well as why I went to, the centennial highschool reunion. And, not wanting to miss a single face, why I arranged to be on the welcoming committee handing out name tags.
Most everyone turned out how I expected. The person voted most likely to be elected to office obviously needed to look human to get elected and if they used magic, I couldn’t tell.
Elizabeth was recognizable, somehow having managed to keep the same youthfulness she had then, while also adding a mature stateliness another four hundred years past her true age. Voted most likely to become a celebrity and start a clothing empire, she was and she had.
Richter, the quintessential jock, went on to the very much expected and very public life of a professional football player. I knew what he looked like, so it was a huge surprise to see that he, like me, was a mashup of small animals, though he had clearly been eating more mammals recently. He was fucking hot.
When his gaze lingered a little too long, I was thankful for the scales covering my blush. There was no doubt in my mind who I was going to try and go back to the hotel with. Yum.
And then there was Vlad. Fucking Vlad.
[Animated image of Pizza The Hut from Space Balls, bobbing up and down]
You are a small god, with very little power or influence. But you are happy, and take care of your few worshippers as much as you are able. An extraordinarily powerful being stumbles bloodied into your sacred place, and cries “Sanctuary.”
thanks to @writing-prompt-s for this prompt!
—–
I sense them coming from a thousand miles off. They move like a tear through the fabric of reality, stitching and unstitching, leaving a trail of fifth dimensional embroidery in their wake. Lots of Great Ones pass this way—Death is not so far over my horizon, and many seek their lands for rescues and redemptions and respite. Few return. But that is not my concern.
What is my concern: this Great One is not heading down the well-trodden path to Death. They are heading towards me. Towards my little temple, safe and sequestered at the edge of all things. Defensible. But not particularly escapable.
Ten minutes later and my acolytes can feel it too. The few temporarily sheltering here cluster around my altar. They are all too well-practiced to tremble or cry, even as the approaching onslaught threatens to pop their ear drums and crack the marrow from their bones. Instead, calloused hands curl around favoured weapons. “Boss?”
“Yeah, this one’s not for you guys. Not sure it’s for me, either, but I have a slightly lower chance of going ‘pop’. Get your butts to the catacombs and prep for evacuation.” I scrabble together enough power to materialise, so I can look each of them in the eye. “Which means if you feel me die, or flee, you run. Got it?”
A chorus of affirmatives that only half of them mean fill the cloister, the echoes still bouncing as they file down through the secret passages in the floor. I lock the trapdoors behind them. It won’t keep them out forever, but hopefully it’ll hold long enough to keep them from doing anything completely stupid. Like coming back to rescue me from certain death.
Like they haven’t done that before.
The Great One hits the foot of my mountain, brushing through the meagre wards like fragile spider webs. They jerk up the rockface, not quite walking, not quite climbing, just…moving upward. Raking pitons and claws and wings through the fabric of space-time, and sealing it behind them in flares of sunlight and gold. Still, they don’t clean everything. I can feel their blood splattering my domain.
It tastes like an offering. Like a sacrifice.
Hmm.
alarajrogers
